#it is no longer anywhere near that sort of slice of life

[chatonyant]

Old designs which have since changed (a lot, Asadal has different hair and clothes now) but the colors are the same and i like it so up it goes

Yeah! Flower System! cause its a story with the game system dungeon crawler thing but the mc gets isekaid into a different world without that system (it ends up getting it) and also they all have plant names hahahahhaha

yeah more stuff under readmore

woe, identity crisis be upon ye

Thorn is Just Some Guy (false) who is a part of one of the world's strongest guilds that fights for the protection of humanity and for the hopes of climbing the Tower that appeared one day and caused some sort of apocalypse on Earth. It's been 5-10 years (undecided) since the world has been plunged into chaos as dungeons spontaneously spawned and spewed forth monsters that terrorized the world. Humanity has gained powers and skills alongside the System, allowing them to fight back and rebuild. Guilds have formed to challenge dungeons and fight monsters in order to find magical items or collect monster spoils in order to create their own items. Dungeons contain monsters, but monsters aren't limited to these domains and free roam the land alongside various different ailments upon the land and people. The System has told them that with the defeat of the Tower, there comes a chance to end the nightmare of uncontrollable destruction at the edges of their barely rebuilt towns.

One day, as Thorn's guild is challenging the Tower, Thorn takes a wrong step and just

slips

through the cracks of reality.

Thorn wakes up in the body of Asadal, the bitchy wife of Maple LastNamePending (Kal? Jun? idk), the head of noble family who is in charge of keeping the monsters that lurk at the edge of their town at bay. Suseon is Maple's nephew, who he treats like his own child after Maple's older brother and Suseon's father perished during a monster swarm. Maple's family isn't a historically noble family and had only been "promoted" (dunno if that's the right word) during Maple's father's younger years due to the family's contributions to the protection of the country's borders against monsters. Chamomile is the head guard of the estate and one of Maple's old friends.

(idk why i'm writting this so formally)

Thorn-now-Asadal is now having a grand time (wrong). Having been told by guildmates about dungeons that places them in scenarios with different settings and bodies, Thorn decides to investigate and figure out what the goal of this dungeon is. Problem is, Asadal seems to dislike the entire people of the estate, especially Suseon, and at best tolerates Maple and seems to be trying to??? seduce him???? Thorn is very confused about the motives of this wife.

On the flip side, Maple, Suseon, Chamomile, and everyone else is very confused as to why their lady one day woke up and is??? nice???? She sees Maple and runs. She sees Suseon and runs even faster. She's sometimes on the roof (why). She doesn't seem concerned about her dress and excessive jewelry (though she still wears some). She's got her nose into every other book in the house. She doesn't remember anyone's names– wait no that's pretty normal, she always looked down upon people. But now she's making the effort to remember??? Is she possessed (yes).

The world does not have the System that Thorn has grown accustomed to, which had granted things like resistances, skills, and ability upgrades. Along with that, Asadal's body is not built for fighting or moving the way that Thorn's was. Asadal doesn't need to have a fighting body. But Thorn does. Suseon walks in on Asadal(Thorn) training and internally freaks because wtf

so uhhh personality?

Asadal(Thorn) is quietly batshit. my notes say "like a cat. quietly leaves gifts and runs" which yeah checks out. blunt and to the point, down to argue with fists. plagued with the Doubts. Feeling quite lonely without his guildmates. Very curious, will do many things to satisfy that curiosity. Also impulsive i guess? I have. a doodle of Asadal going "what's this plant" -immediately eats it and barfs, forgetting the loss of poison protection- Hey why is Asadal up a tree. Hey is Asadal bout to go marching into the fforest please for the love of fuck please stop her. Why does she know things about the monsters. Oh lord she's pestering Suseon to teach her talisman magic. Oh Fuck She's Good. She is now setting fires. Help.

Maple is, in the simplest way i can describe him, the type of gentleman the grannies love. When with the common people he's incredibly friendly and expressive and deeply cares for the people he's responsible for. Though he cares for Suseon like his own son, he insists on Suseon always calling him Uncle and never "Dad" despite Suseon thinking of Maple as his dad as Suseon was too young to remember his actual dad. Maple loved his brother and never really got over the loss. Maple wasn't meant to be the head of the family and had to scramble to learn things he hadn't been fully trained in. In front of his people, he is warm and gentle. In front of other nobility, he is cold and hard. He often has problems in hiding his expression, so he trained himself to not show any emotion at all, leading him to look stiff and angry all the time. He often runs into issues regarding funds and aid as much of high nobility look down/don't give enough regard to the edge towns. With the original Asadal he tried to be accommodating and gentle but in the end could not ever properly connect, leading to a cold relationship. With the new Asadal he is hesitant and confused, but eventually warms up once he realizes this new personality means no harm. Asadal ends up teasing Maple endlessly

Suseon is stubborn and grumpy and highly defensive against Asadal. Maple calls Suseon "my boy". Suseon uses a gun. Asadal gives him pointers on using a gun. Suseon is freaked out by that. He wants to live up to the reputation of his father because he thinks its what people expect of him. He knows Maple is endlessly proud of him and loves him and fears ever disappointing him. Asadal(thorn) looked freaked out when she first saw him and he doesn't understand why. Suseon is likely to get into fights at school because he, like maple, is not great at holding back his emotions.

Chamomile is the lone braincell and is endlessly tired of reminding his lord to please stop charging into monster battles with a laugh. Calm and observant. Master of talisman magic and future baffled tutor of Asadal regarding magic. (undecided: he's lost a leg and has a prosthetic? something about him previously being a part of the monster fighting brigade and moving to be the estate guard head after losing his leg. also something about the change in job being maple and chamomile making his leg an excuse for chamomile's change in job. because he's kind of maple's advisor as well???? thoughts aren't organized enough)

[yanderenightmare]

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, heavy dubcon, bordering on noncon, profanity, manipulation

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL - PART TWO

TRUST ME

It's safe to say that Bakugo had gotten used to a certain lifestyle. 

Being top three in all years in the Hero-course, girls fawning, falling at his feet left and right, drooling, begging him to fuck them. 

Or… begging him to take them out on a date. 

But let’s be honest… no girls want to date him, they just want to ride his dick once a week. They just want to know what it feels like to be taken by a real man before halting, limping back to their clueless vanilla-boyfriends, all made up of soft smiles and warm hugs and nothing like Bakugo and how he spanks their girlfriend’s ass until blood leaks from popped veins and his name comes falling from their lips like tearful prayer.

Nowadays though, he’d had to kick more girls to the curb than he could count on both his hands without as much as getting his dick wet from the girl he’d picked for himself, the star that was once so bright and shining like a wild sunflower before he forced himself into her life. 

She seemed to have wilted, as she wouldn’t even spare him a second glance until he forced it from her.

Or… that was unfair. She was perfect, doing everything he asked, but… it wasn’t really willingly, now was it? 

All he needed was ask, but he knew she didn’t try to make him happy because she wanted to, she didn’t try and make him laugh because she wanted to, it didn’t come naturally as it did with others, she did it because she was scared shitless of what he would do if she didn’t.

It made him so unbelievable angry to see her laugh with others. Wrathful, vengeful even, when she buckled over and nearly fell, rolling on the floor in the pit of her humor, crying with how painfully she was wheezing. So furious because he couldn’t even blame her. He couldn’t blame her for preferring other people over him, other smiling laughing idiotic people, pleasant people as opposed to him and his aura of grumpiness. 

Some insouciantly greedy, almost evil, part of him whispered to him those times he saw her smile that genuine angel-bright smile, never with him, that perhaps if he simply took her, took her away, tucked her away more so than what he had already, that perhaps she’d have no choice but to share that light with his darkness, because supernova’s like her need things to shine for, they crave lighting people up, they’re just so fucking eager to please, and if he were the only one around to absorb all which she had to give, then she’d have no choice but to share.

It shouldn’t have been legal for him to demand more of her. 

She did everything he asked. 

She worked out with him, pushing herself to limits and extents she didn’t even know existed, almost until she barfed, almost until she collapsed, then praising his teaching-methods instead of admitting it was too much. 

She watches his movies, where she would contort the scary imagery of whatever horror or action movie Bakugo would put on the screen into the finest goriest comedy, cough up her lungs at the guts and brains leaking from sliced abdomens or cracked skulls, burry her face in his shoulder as she cried out laughter, instead of jumping into his arms like the scared little lamb she was supposed to be, begging him to turn it off and giving him an opportunity to slide his hand up her shirt. 

She studied with him, again gushing about what an amazing tutor he is instead of being honest by letting him know what an absolutely aggressive jerk he is, saying words she’d regret and have to find a way of apologising for, making it up to him in so many ways Bakugo lusted for, fantasised about when he laid next to her at night. 

She joined him with his friends, let him sleep in her bed, she even ate what and when he told her eat, dressed how he wanted her to dress, changed if he didn’t approve, cheered like his own personal perfect cheerleader at his battles, being probably the loudest person in the bleachers, making all the boys jealous of him, doing everything and more, and still, still it just wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what he needed.

And no, what he needed wasn’t her pussy served on a platter. 

What he needed was leverage. He needed reassurance, he needed her trapped, locked down, glued to him. He needed to know, to believe, to trust that he had her not just for now, but for as long as he wanted, forever. 

And having her in the most primal shameless way, showing her what he could give her, show her that he isn’t just a god on the battlefield but has those same godlike skills when it comes to making her see stars was how he intended to make her need him. 

Granted, he’s never actually made love like how she’d probably want to, but he’s fucked plenty of sluts to have confidence in saying that he knows the female body like the back of his hand. 

If he could just feel her melt beneath him, just make her unravel, wrap her around his pinky, just once and he would know, she wasn’t leaving him anytime soon, she wasn’t ever going to leave him, not unless she wanted her pretty pictures leaked.

Not that he would ever let anyone see her like that, that was just for him, but he doubted she would think too much of what he was willing to do or not. That’s the beauty of threats, they don’t need to be true for the outcome to be fruitful. 

Though, he really wished it didn’t come to that. 

No, once she gets a taste of what it feels like to be taken care of the way he would take care of her, when she wakes up from what fever-dream he’s given her with a mouthful of honey and the newfound realisation that with him is where she belongs, where she’s always belonged, where she’ll always belong.

Or...

Perhaps it was about the sex. 

He had been good, loyal, patient, understanding, boyfriendly. 

She wasn’t the only one making sacrifices. 

It’s unfair of him to hold that against her, and he knows that… most of the time… but no one can blame him for forgetting it when he sees her sitting next to him in that short school-skirt, so in-reach, so grabbable, with his bed taunting them from right behind his back, how easy it would be to just pick her up and throw her down on it, watch her bounce while looking up at him in a giggling fit. 

He can’t be expected to focus on doing algebra with that in his mind, he can’t be expected to tutor her when she looks at him with that apologetically hopeless clueless expression, laughing that nervous laugh that every time warns him about how completely lost she is to what he’s talking about.

Granted, it was him who told her he would be tutoring her, because god and every teacher along with him knew she needed it, what with how she daydreams or pranks each and every class away like the ditzy klutz she is.

“I… I- I don’t know?” Was her answer to yet another equation he’d poured out from between his grit teeth.

Plan A revolved around her wanting to repay the favor, give him a little present for helping her out. Tit for tat, eye for an eye, sort of thing. And usually she would, give him a little something in return, a chaste kiss to his cheek, a frisky make-out session that always ended just a bit too early, never fully what he wanted.

Plan B was to tire her out, creating an opening for him to suggest that they do something that requires less thinking. She usually gets distracted, sometimes she’ll even initiate it in hopes he’d let her off the hook with studying, she’d pout her lips, look at him with those large pretty puppy-dog eyes, coax him into cuddling, but she’d always fall asleep just a minute later.

Plan C was a spin off plan B. Where in hopes of making her the bad guy, he would be sweet, he has been sweet, offering his help to tutor her, she would grow tired like she always does, only this time he wouldn't allow her to rest, therefor causing her to snap, resulting in her saying something she’d regret, again resulting in her apologising, something he could mold into her owing him a favour, something that would end up with having her splayed out on the sheets of his bed, ready for the taking. 

He just needed an opportunity to hold something against her, an excuse, a favor to cash in, he needed her backed up into a corner.

Plan C wasn’t working though, unfortunately.

She never grew fed up with him, she never said anything foul. 

He was stupid to think that an opportunity like that would arise. She isn't like him after all. In fact, she’s the farthest thing from him.

Well, time for plan D then. Another spin off plan B.

Don’t hold it against him, but he’d been spouting bullshit for the last three minutes in hopes of making her frustrate over herself, where the former plan had evolved into something a bit more crucial. 

But, she’s insanely tolerant, reminding him of Kirishima’s sturdy quirk, though he had to admit finding her unfaltering confidence and dedication way more mind-blowingly impressive. 

He had been chipping at that composure of hers for the last two hours without breaching the surface. 

But there was still hope. 

Everyone has a breaking point after all, and he could sense she was getting fed up. Fed up with his tone, fed up of him treating her like a moron, fed up with him. 

It would only take one last blow now and she’d break.

Or so he thought.

He had impressive amounts of patience, but he was also nearing his breaking point and finally after one more of her soft-natured laughs, he was the one that had enough, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

And plan E was looking way more opportune by the minute.

“You think it’s funny that you’re an idiot?”

Her eyes widened and turned instantly glossy at his harsh words, looking like a kicked-puppy, before it contorted into an expression of something akin to anger but not truly as vicious. 

Yet, obviously taking offence, huffing as she got up to leave, proving how she too was done with playing their little fantasy, uncaring, or rather forgetting, that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without his permission.

“I think so too, I think it’s fucking hilarious.” He mocked, hand gripping her shirt and pulling her back between him and the desk. 

Already she was pushing at him, as he leaned in closer gripping her hips and gliding her onto his desk, wanting to feel her thighs and legs cradle around his torso. 

“But, you know what I find even funnier?” 

She opened her mouth to speak, but she was given no room to let her protest out as he raised his voice in warning. 

“What I bet you laugh your ass off at behind my back?!” 

Her annoyance turned ashen, faltering into that meek fearful look he didn’t realise until know that he’d missed. 

“Is how much of an idiot I am.” 

Her brows scrunched, hands placed on the thick stiff muscles of his arms as she felt him start to rub circles into her midriff where his fingers where digging into her soft flesh through her shirt. 

“I’ve been so fucking patient.” It was barely above a whisper, almost sounding broken, like a cry or a plead or an apology, but then his face split into a snarl as he leered at her, teeth flashed at her face making her jump slightly where she sat planted on the desk. “So fucking patient with you that it’s ridiculous.” 

His nose touched hers where she slightly bowed her head. His eyes were blood-shot, or perhaps it was just how they always looked. She wouldn’t know as she made it her unrelenting mission to never look directly at him. 

But now she couldn’t escape his stare, the stare she’d feared so much, pushed tight up against her, so tight she smelled his breath when she inhaled, so tight she felt the thin hairs on her upper lip dance as he huffed out his own growling breaths. 

“And no, I’m not talking about math.”

Her hands had moved to his chest as he hunched further and further over her, pressuring her to lie down on the desk. 

“Please, Baku-” She tried, adding slightly more pressure to her hold on him, but honestly... no amount of her strength would be able to fend him off, especially with the mood he was in.

“No!” He cut her off with a growl, finally forcing her down on her back underneath him, as he palmed the doughy flesh of where her hips connected to her ass, greedy and so very hungry, still keeping a firm hold on her with a thumb hooked on her hip, keeping her in place. “No more please, and I told you it’s fucking Katsuki.” 

She flinched as he spit the correction in her face, feeling something bulging slot and rub itself up against where her skirt had hiked up and exposed her thin panties. 

“No more pleas, no more excuses, no more teasing, no more jokes.” 

He spotted a tear dripping down her cheek, escaping with how hard she was squeezing her eyes shut to avoid his gaze.

She whimpered before she spoke. “I- I’ve do- done every- everything you- you asked.” She blubbered, her hands removed from their insignificant standoff with his chest and shot up to cover her face as she began crying, wiping at them as they fell, pathetic and broken and so pretty his balls hurt with how much he wanted to bury himself inside her no doubt tight cunt.

Desperate now, he bumped his erection into her heat. Trying to steal her focus away from the action by gripping her chin between his rough finger-pads, his lips brushing up her jawline, inhaling her perfume, the scent making another pleasurable shiver spring to his cock, again humping into her. 

“So, what’s one more thing?”

Her heart would have sunk by his words if it weren’t for the building intensity that spiked it to beat faster, hammering in her chest as she felt what she now had no doubt was him pushing into the scared place found between her thighs. 

She could feel her panic bubble up where she was pushed against the cold wooden desk, with her boyfriend’s unwanted heat radiated and seeping through her clothes to tickle her skin. 

She didn’t want this. She wasn’t sure if she ever would want this. 

Bakugo had told her so many times that this was something she needed, everyone needed, but as her heart kept pumping so profusely in her chest, as though it were some blaring alarm, she wasn’t at all sure if she liked the way the stubble on his shaved chin scratched as it rode up her neck when he planted soft open-mouthed wet kisses there, she wasn’t sure if she at all wanted his large calloused wandering hands to stroke and tamper with her soft skin as he pulled her shirt out of her skirt to touch and feel up her stomach and squeeze the soft flesh of her tits, and the more and more his threatening clothed cock continued in rubbing desperately against her own teased sex she fell short of understanding just what it was she didn’t want, if it was the intimacy or just him.

Her panic built like bile in her throat, wanting to burst, which it did. 

“I’m not ready- I don’t- can’t we just…” 

He captured her chin between his thumb and index finger, lips coming to shut her up, cut off whatever protesting excuses she was about to splutter out. 

She tried getting her words out, trying ever so timidly to shake from the kiss, yet however which way she tried turning her head, Bakugo simply followed to deepen it, turning more bruisingly passionate by the second.

Her hands were kept unsurely in their delicate touching on his chest, again in her fear of souring the mood she only barely pushed at him to get off, whereas his hands grasped and groped up her thighs, feeling her soft flesh up like dough, squeezing and kneading and just touching her, all of her, despite her small hums of discomforted surprise.

Large encompassing hands took a break from their pioneering and easily pried her smaller ones off his chest, interlocking his fingers with hers and pushing them down to her sides where they wouldn’t get in the way. 

The kiss then turned rough, hungry as he yet again rocked himself into her, a rugged groan escaping from deep within his throat as her struggles met him with her own type of delicious friction, kissing his sensitive bulge with little caution.

He was so sensitive from having to have held back his primal urges for so long, especially after being teased daily by the soft grabbable little mouse he slept next to throughout every night without being allowed to do more than simply hold her, being teased with her ass slotted against his crotch as they spooned. 

If she wasn’t careful with her movement he might just become a pathetic mess and cum in his pants with how pent up he was.

His other hand made to slip under her skirt to feel up the lace of her panties, wanting nothing more but to slip his finger inside her no doubt tight little hole and work her up until she’d be dripping drenching his hand with wetness, wanting to hear those panicked whimpers turn into ones of pleasure instead, but she was making it impossible with all her troublesome wiggling. 

His fingers forgot their quest between her thighs in favor of picking her up and moving her to the bed instead. 

She tried pushing, but it was so weak that he could pretend to not feel it. 

He wouldn’t be stopping unless she flat out screamed at him, and even then, she’d have to be brutally clear or else he’d take it for screams of pleasure.

He made sure the fall was soft, placing her down on her butt first before his hand cusped the back of her head as he pushed her down onto her back with him hovering on top, deep kisses aiding his quest in pressing her and keeping her beneath him.

She jostled under the entrapment of his weight when his digits stroked up over her panties, rubbing and dipping into the warm tender skin found beneath. 

Her hands pushed at him then, only a little, though it should have been enough to get her message across, but as she realized it wouldn’t she turned her head to the side, freeing her lips from his attacking ones and allowing her to speak her protest, or… more whine than speak.

“Katsuki…”

He shushed at her from where he was nuzzling in her neck, seeming almost lovesick like a frenzied pup as he began to lightly hump into the mattress, his teeth nibbling at the thin skin of her throat. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll make you feel good.” It was a drawled-out mumble, but it told her of how he had no intention of stopping.

“But-” She tried, but was quickly made to shut up as her chin was once again captured and dragged to make her look up at him, his lips again pressing into her, seizing all words.

Soon his antagonizing finger hooked under her underwear, rough-textured fingertips quickly making their way to rub over the sensitive lips found at their disposal. 

Her struggles grew then, her chest jutting forward to try and lift him off her, to allow her to speak, but it was as though he was glued to her, his fingers nearly marking their presence into her cheeks as his wet mouth and even wetter tongue continued exploring the insides of her mouth. 

She whimpered at the feel of his fingers pushing through her folds, gliding up and down the slit. Jolting once too violently, Katsuki laid all his weight down onto her, trapping her there completely, quenching the harshness of her struggles and subduing them to what felt like she was trying to meet his desperate humping.

“Trust me.” 

He should have whispered it, he should have tried making it sound less aggressive as he cuddled with the lips of her pussy, sticking one finger inside her warmth, followed by her squealing in surprise against his lips. 

Her fingernails marked their presence into his skin as she held onto his arm, still not allowed to protest, still only barely allowed to breath.

He couldn’t help but growl at the feel of how tight she was, or… at the feel of how unprepared she was. 

She whimpered as it was no doubt uncomfortable being skewered onto his thick finger without being at all wet, but he was determined to make that change. 

His thumb pushed into her clit, starting to rub slow carful circles into the hooded and hidden pearl, wanting it to pucker out to meet him. And soon, at the hands of his experienced fingers, and perhaps encouraged by her virginal thrill of having something touch her for the first time, his wishes were met. 

The finger buried inside her began squishing in wetness, allowing him to add another one at the expense of her gasping against him, her hands relenting slightly in their need to push him off, a soft uncertain hum simmering against his lips, making him smirk, gloat and bloom with cocky bliss.

Working her tightness with his digits, coating them in slick, he began curling them, feeling the waves of her tensing and melting beneath him. Parting them, scissoring them inside of her plushie walls, his thumb rubbing tight patterns into her bead.

Encouraged by her struggles subsiding he began pumping the digits in and out, feeling her wetness coat his hand. The actions finally earning him a moan, a sweet trembling breathy moan, one that got right to his head as his grin widened against her lips. 

“You see?” He asked, lips still barely detaching from her, breathing the words into her. “You were just scared…” 

Their eyes locked and he was happy to see her orbs large and glossy yet cotton-flavored and blissful as she looked up at him. 

“You don’t need to be scared with me, just let me do this for you, trust me…” 

He kissed her softly now, no brutality or forcefulness, but lightly and sweetly and tenderly, so much so she almost forgot it was Bakugo. 

“I’ll make you feel good.”

But it was Bakugo. 

It was Bakugo. 

Bakugo who’d forced her into a relationship. 

Bakugo: her self-proclaimed boyfriend, her self-proclaimed roommate, her tutor, her guard-dog, her warden. 

Bakugo, who was now persuading her into giving him her virginity.

She was about to answer, but as though he precepted her growing trepidation he met it all with a sharp hooking of his fingers, making her arch her back up into him, her knees trembling where they were pushed up over his thigh next to his hips. 

“Just relax…”

An open-mouthed uncontrolled moan escaped her then. “Katsuki~” 

She felt her hips buck back into his hand, letting him know that he had her completely wrapped around his finger, just as figuratively as it was literal.

“That’s right…” He spoke softly, maintaining the aura of safety, wanting to keep her exactly like that, all soft and sweet and vulnerable for him. “You just focus on me, babe.” 

He placed a tender kiss to her jaw, contrasted with how he now rubbed vigorously onto her swollen bud, feeling her tremble, quake at his hands. 

He knew he had her right where he wanted her, chasing that high he was giving her, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso, reminding him of his own arousal, but he couldn’t pay himself any mind. 

Right now all he needed to worry about was sealing the deal.

An excited jumpy hitched breath left her lips, precious as it was sweet, chest rising above the bed and pressing against his own in such a soft expression of gratitude, just as her legs squeezed tightly around his waist, keeping him close, pussy clenching around his fingers so tight he could only dream of what it would feel like wrapped around his cock, as her eyelids started to flutter, squishing to a close, but not before he saw her eyes cross, reaching towards the light, a light he ignited for her.

She was left a panting mess, her walls fluttering around his digits, happily sucking on them as she spilled.

But she wasn’t left blissed out for long as she hurriedly scurried back to herself, hands covering her face as she hung her head in embarrassment, feeling that dreadful feeling wash over her, that draining shame feeling like death’s embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” She squealed, words muffled beneath the cover of her hands.

His brows scrunched as he perceived her, trying to spot her face from beneath what shield she’d made with her hands.

“I- I made a mess…” 

It sounded as though she were about to cry, so ashamed her body began to shake, her thighs pressed together, hiding where she cocooned herself in the bed in front of him.

His hand trailed soft fingers up her forearm to wrap around her wrist, gently prying her hand away from her face. 

He sighed, heart clenching at the sight of her glossy shameful eyes. 

“You’re so fucking adorable…” 

There was a slight chuckle attached to the statement, his lips kissing her temple before they brushed against the shell of her ear. 

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tongue next?”

The question left her shell-choked, her lip quivering at the promise of his mouth kissing her down there in the same manor he kissed her lips: brutally, passionately, with teeth. 

“M-Mn-No…” She spoke bashfully, still anxious.

Too cute for her own good.

His hand, the one soaked with her essence, ascended to his face, his fingers disappearing into his mouth, lips enclosing around them as he sucked the juices clean off, giving a groan at her taste as well as her shocked but curious expression, smirking once he let his finger go with a kiss.

His hands moved front and centre, beginning to tamper with the buttons to her uniform. 

“You’re safe with me.” He repeated, knowing it was something she needed to hear, especially as he began opening button after button, revealing her precious pearly-white bralette, where under was found glory in the shape of soft warm pillows. “Trust me.” 

He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, bringing it out of her reach, not allowing her the freedom of covering herself if she were to change her mind and snatch it back from his hands. 

She hummed in unease as though to ask if he had to go any further, to which he answered by kissing her forehead, a gesture that made a shiver run up her spine, unsure if it was of pleasure or something more eerie. 

His finger running, dancing around to her back, tickling the skin where her bra was held together. 

He felt her tense up, but ignored it and continued in his quest, pinching the clasp and taking hold of the straps to pull the annoying thing off, leaving her bare and beautiful.

Taking a second to admire her as her nipples perked at once at the hands of her embarrassment, he held back the urge to pinch, forcing himself to be soft, soft and sweet and safe, something he needed to remind himself of. 

Hands moving carefully to hold one of the mounds, a careful squeeze followed by a careful rub of the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Lay back down.” His voice was so warm, so warm it left her perplexed, unable to tell that the words shaped a demand as he placed one large hot hand in the space between her breasts, adding slight pressure to ease her back down into the bed, all the while her curious yet terror-wide watery eyes looked up at him, falling prey to his dominant crimson ones. 

His head followed hers, lips pressing one soft kiss to her wet ones.

There is something about being bare in front of someone fully dressed. Something so dominating, something so frightening. But, surely the fact that he looked at her as though she were the world made everything safer, surely it evened the scales, surely… she wasn’t completely powerless.

“Let me prove just how much I love you.”

He could feel how terribly fast her heart was beating as he kissed down her neck, over her collar bone, careful to not bite too harshly, giving into simply nibbling or grazing his teeth, fighting the urge to mark her up so prettily. 

Mouth moving to suck at the exposed sensitive skin of her tits, forgetting himself as he made to grind the protruding nib between his teeth, being met with a squeal from the girl beneath him, her hands instinctively pushing at his shoulders. 

But again, her racing heartbeat and impulsive struggles were subdued, Bakugo making to squeeze her cheeks between his fingers, squishing her plump bloated reddened lips together, whispering upon them as he leaned in close. 

“Don’t worry, babe, you know I won’t hurt you.” 

She nodded, but still he felt her shiver, heard the tremor in her breathing, the soft sniffles she couldn’t keep at bay, just as pathetic as they were adorable and mouthwatering for him to hear.

Once he reassured himself she wasn’t about to roll out of bed and stagger towards the bathroom, running like a spooked hare, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth before peppering a dozen more down her neck, over the nipples he’d played with, going further down and lower and lower until he was all the way down to kissing the space found just beneath her bellybutton, his ears shifting to listen to how the bed creaked upon her shuffling, yet those anxious movements where seized when his hefty arms wrapped beneath her thighs, pulling her all snug and personal, lining her up perfectly with his face, all for him to see what gorgeous mess he’d made of her, all glistening and blushed with arousal. 

He couldn’t wait any longer to give her a taste, feel her melt on his tongue, hear her moan as he buried his face into her.

He flicked a light kitty-lick over her budding clit, felt her quake in his arms, looking up yet still down at her where he couldn’t quite place what emotion terrorised her face the most, whether it was mostly anxiety, discomfort, shame, embarrassment or pleasure. 

It didn’t discourage him though as he made the same movement again, only now twirling his warm textured tongue around the pearl, swirling around it, circling it like a shark, before his entire mouth enclosed it, devoured it, sucked on it, his tongue placed flat on top of it as he dragged it over the sensitivity again and again, sucking fervently, feeling her panic at the intrusive pleasure, yet being held steady in his arms with no way of getting away.

He let up, letting go with a wet pop before running his tongue deeply down the slit, plunging into her weeping hole where it wormed its way inside. 

She wiggled as his nose bumped into her ravaged clit, all sensitive with tender swelling.

She was all shaky breaths, no sound too loud, no sound too brazen or wanton. 

He needed to change that. 

He planned to go slow, but had wanted it to be a surprise, and so, instead of lightly grazing his teeth over the silken bud he gave into biting down on it, gnawing it lightly between the rows of his teeth.

She shrieked, hands pushed with force against his head to get him off as she climbed higher up on the bed, away from him, yet the movement was soon stilled, or rather reversed with the strength of Bakugo’s arms coiled around her thighs, dragging her back to meet his hungry mouth. 

“Don’t move.” 

Carmine eyes stared up at her from down in between herself, and she felt her knees go weak as they shook at the terrifying growl that accompanied his threat. 

“Just… trust me.” 

She didn’t. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared his marred and mauled hands, those scars running up over the great juicy muscles of his arms, those deadly arms themselves, capable of both withstanding and giving destruction, proof that he can and has survived far greater than what she could ever hope, proof that she was no match, no equal. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared how his thumb now rubbed over her clit, creating such godsend friction that had her unraveling, melting into his mouth, and that mouth itself, that tongue, those teeth, how they devoured her for everything she was worth. 

She didn’t trust him, but she found... falling suited her, and chasing the fires had unknowingly become a feeling she rather cherished than feared, a little less like dying, and more like... coming home.

By the time she came to, reeled back into reality, yet still remaining far away, succumbed by bliss, her eyes were opium-blown as she blinked dumbly, not realizing how Bakugo had placed himself on her side, eyes full of awe as he watched her, leg tangled with legs, heart to heart, hand held lazily on her hip, drawing small patterns up and down her side, watching her flushed face drowse into the pillow until those pretty chaste eyes met his again.

His boxers were sticky. 

She’d been too busy, too distracted with the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth abusing what found between her legs to notice how he’d been humping the mattress while eating her out as though he were starved and crazed and feral with lust. And even though she felt him groan and growl, the reverberations that tremored at the roughness of his gruff timber was enough to make her eyes cross and forget, even forgive them from ever happening.

“How about making a mess on my cock next time?” 

His hand stroked her cheek after pulling the covers up to drape her naked body that now had begun to shiver in the crash of coming down. The thoughtful action a stark contrast to his cocky suggestive tone, eyes glinting wickedly at the little lamb he’d lured into and onto his wolf fangs, still tasting her essence on his tongue, watching as those skittish brows erupted into that beautiful panic that somehow resembled hope as she looked at him wide-eyed, smitten with plead and all things soft. 

“I’m joking…” 

He gave a smile, soft but in a different way, admiring what was his. 

“Or, not really… but whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.” 

The thumb stroked over her cheek once again, before his lips pressed a long firm kiss to her forehead, hinting for her to nuzzle into his neck, where his smell had become like ritual, something she wasn’t meant to go on without for too long.

She thought she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for any of this. What makes the next step any different? Still, with the defeatist thought, she did like the defeatist she was, timid hands coming to hold onto Bakugo’s fire-hot skin, slotting herself tight against his body. 

She didn’t trust him, but she trusted his love, she trusted his lust, she trusted he would never let her go, and that perhaps those arms of his weren’t too bad. Perhaps if she thought of how safe she was she could more or less forget or rather forgive that they were there to keep her trapped, perhaps if she spent enough time believing she was kept safe by him, then she’d forget all the reason as to why being trapped with him was the farthest thing from safe.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

Whumptober No. 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But...

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Summary: Nothing could’ve prepared Geralt for Jaskier being brought to Kaer Morhen, nor for the sight of the bandages on his injured hands. Despite what happened on that mountain, Geralt wants to know who did this - who took away something so integral to the core of Julian Alfred Pankratz. But he doesn’t get the answer he thought he would.

Words: 2k

A/N: DAY THREE LET’S GOOO! And after two and a half months, I’ve finally gotten another witcher fic out! It feels good! I missed writing for this fandom so much (and it’ll help me ease back into Spider’s Thread), and this was SUCH a fun prompt fill for today. This was inspired by some of That Jaskier Content from the latest s2 trailer, and it’s... implications about the state of his hands. I hope you enjoy!

[CW: Hurt/No Comfort, Torture Aftermath, Hand Injury]

--

Nothing could have prepared Geralt for this.

No, there was nothing in this world - not even a miracle - that could’ve prepared Geralt for the moment he sensed a portal - one of Yen’s portals - outside the keep.

For the moment he ran out to a balcony and saw her there, having somehow - despite everything he believed, everything he thought he knew for certain - having survived the Battle of Sodden Hill; for the moment he’d lay eyes on a very much alive Yennefer… with a bard’s arm drawn over her shoulder to support him.

His hair was longer now, down to his jaw, and a burgundy leather jacket - adorned with ribs and folds just like that red doublet he wore as he looked down at him on that mountain, heart shattered - lay in tatters on him, bandaged hands peeking out of it’s sleeves…

He didn’t look the same - Gods knew he didn’t look the same - but Geralt still recognized Jaskier.

He was shuffled into one of the many, many spare rooms almost immediately, and Geralt tried talking to Yennefer. Of course, she’d been tense with him, but that was alright. At least she was alive to be tense with him. He’d take that over a particular alternative any day.

Speaking of tense...

The keep had never felt so cold as right now, when Geralt of Rivia stood in the doorway of Jaskier’s impromptu room. Here, the bard sat in an old chair, in front of a desk he did not look like he’d use to write on anytime soon. No, he looked at the wood slab despondently, not even seeming to notice Geralt.

So, he spoke up, speaking to Jaskier, his companion of twenty years, for the first time since that mountain.

“Jaskier… you’re here.”

Jaskier didn’t look at him, but he did speak.

“Wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know where else to go, and even if I did, Yennefer insisted - didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere else. Can you believe that? Yennefer of Vengerberg has a soft spot for me. The end of days may very well be upon us.”

His voice was hoarse. Geralt knew it must have been from screaming. His eyes drew down to Jaskier’s hands, where patches of horrendous blue and gods-damned purple peeked out from slivers of space between the bandages that showed his open skin.

“Your hands…”

“Oh, these old things?” Jaskier looked down at them,  “Well, Yenny did her best, but they still hurt like a bitch to play with. I won’t bestow new ballads on the world for a while yet. Sorry if you expected me to sing your praises…”

But his tone made it clear that he wouldn’t do that even if his hands were as good as they were that day in Posada, or in Cintra, or on that mountain…

Geralt pursed his lips, trying to hold back his question. He didn’t deserve to know, he knew that, but he had to…

“...Who did this to you?” he spat out.

Jaskier lifted his gaze to meet the Witcher’s, and he laughed. It wasn’t like before - like the sunrise in the spring, like the bloom of buttercups, like love and joy and all the things he came to equate with Jaskier’s laughter, however unconscious, unadmitted these comparisons were. No, it was an empty, sardonic, quietly angry thing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“And for what?” he asked, “So you can tear some fucker to shreds for laying a hand on me? Because you think I’m still your naive companion that would swoon at the thought of you exacting revenge on him for my sake? So you can make some grand gesture of brutality?”

“I’m not the one of us enamored with grand gestures.”

Jaskier tilted his head back and huffed. The shift in his movement made his hair move a bit, and Geralt realized he missed that little swoop - the little… floof, even - of hair that went down his forehead before, when his hair had been shorter.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said “us” about me and you.” Jaskier remarked, “Twenty years, and you acknowledge that I was something to you. Not sure what, but something.”

“You were…” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened as if he remembered something, “Oh! Right! I remember - a shitshoveler. The catalyst for all your plights, something life would bless you by taking off your hands.”

Guilt sliced into Geralt like a kikimora’s claws.

“Looks like life heard “taking” and “hands” and went straight to me…” Jaskier huffed with the ghost of amusement with himself, looking down at his hands.

“Of course you can still joke.”

Jaskier shrugged, “Not much else to do. They took my lute, and my ability to play it, but they haven’t taken my wit.”

He crossed his legs.

“The funny thing is…” he said, staring down at the cracks in the table in front of him, “There was a little bit there where, if you’d apologized, I would’ve forgiven you. But… there wasn’t a trace of you to speak of after that hunt. Nowhere I went. Not that I went looking.”

“I didn’t have time to look for you, either.” Geralt said, “I was with Ciri.”

Jaskier snapped his gaze up.

“Oh, come now, Witcher.” he said with venom Geralt only ever knew from bigoted villagers that Jaskier had tried to change the minds of with his songs before, “Does your prolonged lifespan render you timeblind, or has your head been so far up your ass for so long that you can’t even properly tell time anymore?”

“I-”

“Two years, Geralt.” he said, “A blink of an eye for you, maybe, but that’s how long it was between that damned dragon hunt and the fall of Cintra. Two years you could have found me, before Cintra fell, before-”

He snapped his jaw shut.

“Before who?”

“No, Geralt!” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table to help him stand up. It seemed that his anger stopped him from realizing how bad that would hurt, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Geralt tried to step forward, but it was like the ground between them was covered in hot coals, and Geralt’s feet couldn’t have been more bare.

Once the pain seemed to quell, Jaskier’s eyes opened, and he glowered at the Witcher.

“You don’t get to know. You don’t get to make that bastard beg for mercy and act like that fixes anything - as if it does anything but conflate your ego that is so, so massive despite how much you hate yourself. You don’t get to take revenge on my behalf. You don’t get to act like this,” he held up his hands, “is anything compared to what you did to my heart.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you DON’T GET TO SAY THAT NOW.” he screamed, killing Geralt’s words before it could leave his lips.

Geralt saw tears in his eyes as he huffed shaky breaths.

“You don’t get to say it like some off-hand statement, only brought up since it’s relevant.” he said with a wavering voice, “You don’t get to only say it now that I’m here, fallen right in your lap because Gods knew where else Yennefer could take me. And you don’t get to say it like it means anything now.”

“Now?”

Jaskier lowered his gaze.

“...I sort of figured you were embarrassed. That you were too scared to get your head out of your ass, like you are with a lot of things, but once you did, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“But I heard you went to Cintra. Heard you went to claim your child-surprise.”

“What does Cirilla have to do with this?” he asked.

“Who do you think he asked about with each bone he broke?” Jaskier asked, snapping his gaze back to Geralt, “You? If it were just you, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“That isn’t the point. When I heard that after twelve years of running from your claim, you hauled your arse to Cintra to protect her, I realized that you were always capable of going back to unfinished business, to scorned places of the past - you could always do it, if it was for the sake of something important enough to you.”

Jaskier lowered his gaze again, smiling sadly - smiling bitterly. It was an odd thing, a bitter smile, but Jaskier, like a fine doublet, wore it well.

“I just wasn’t.” he said, “I’m not your destiny, or your djinn-bound soulmate. I was just a bard.”

My bard. Geralt wanted so badly to say.

“What could I have said?”

Jaskier’s lower lip quivered as he looked at the Witcher near-dumbfounded, as if his incredulousness were a dagger that cut him deep. He leaned back against the table.

“You tell me.” he shrugged, “For those two years, I was still stupid enough that anything would have worked. Really, I wished some of my eloquence rubbed off on you, and I could’ve gotten a plea that, in a spur of irony, I was one of the few blessings life ever granted you, but anything that sounded remotely like an apology would have worked.”

He put his hands on his hips. Geralt could tell how hesitant he was.

“...At least, it would have made me think I was worth an apology in your eyes, and I was worth all the work it could have taken, tracking me down to say it.”

He rubbed a patch of cloth on his trousers with his thumb. Geralt didn’t miss how the corner of his lip twitched.

“At least, I could’ve known that what you said really was just a product of the heat of the moment, sprung forth by a misplaced attempt at levity, and there was no truth to it. I was so desperate that I would have taken anything if it meant I’d stop missing you.”

“You obviously stopped missing me eventually.” 

Jaskier threw his head back again, “Wrong again, Geralt.”

He stood up straight again and walked across the floor, which, to Geralt, was still littered with hot coals he couldn’t dare step over.

“Do you really think that the venom in your words - the spit from your lips - the fury in your eyes could clear you from my mind? From my heart?” he walked right up to Geralt, though the space between them felt like it was pushing the Witcher away from Jaskier like a magnet.

“Do you really think that anything but the Gods themselves could’ve made me stop missing you?”

Geralt couldn’t say anything. Hearing Jaskier’s words… it was like a vocal hex, like someone had sewn his very lips shut.

(Perhaps if he had done so himself before that day on the hunt, things wouldn’t have gone so bad…)

(No, no, he still would’ve found a way to ruin things. He was Geralt of Rivia, after all.)

Jaskier was only inches away from him now - a distance like something from a dream, after they’d been distant for so long… but even though this was the closest their bodies had ever been to one another, the Witcher knew that Jaskier’s mind - his heart - was as far away from Geralt as it could ever get.

Jaskier was the one to break eye contact - as if he was still terrified of giving the Witcher the chance to break anything - and he looked down to his feet.

“...If you want to know who broke my hands, Yennefer knows more than I.” he said, “She’s the one that found me, told me more of who he was. All I have is a name for a face.”

Geralt turned to leave. Jaskier grabbed his wrist.

The touch burned.

“But…”

Jaskier lifted his head and looked Geralt in the eye.

“...You want to know who did this to me? Who ruined me? Who broke me?”

Jaskier’s eyes bore into Geralt’s soul, the ice blue of his irises piercing him like shards.

“Go look back on that mountain.”

[honestlyvan]

📓?

Unsurprisingly I have a whole genre of ideas that can be summed up as "slice of life with explosions" centered on the Wreckers during various parts of their lives and various stages of the war. Just leaving it at that feels like cheating, though, but know that there's So Much More of This Exact Thing.

There's a couple specifically for exploring how Wheeljack goes from being the only de facto non-combat personnel among the Wreckers to being their finest frontliner, usually through some kind of variation on a theme. One of them that I feel particularly fond of revolves his relationship to the various helicopters on the team as his power level grows, and he stops being so reliant on the inherent superiority of having an airframe giving you covering fire. The twist is that the actual scenes have him going from needing less help to needing more help, as a way to thumb at how he bonds with the team over time.

The first vignette is from very early after Wheeljack joined up (perhaps even before he joined up? Hm.) back when he was still a pioneer-saboteur and acting as technical support on the field, seeing Springer get shot down in the middle of a firefight and crashing near him. Wheeljack saves Springer from bleeding out with a bit of clever but ruthless field medicine (ripping out his whole damaged fuel pump so the low fuel pressure seals around his tanks kick in. It knocks Springer into stasis, but hey, at least he lives!) while freaking out, tbh, because he's been thinking of the Wreckers as indestructible battering rams capable of beating back any sort of offensive. It's heavily implied to be the first time he's like "ah, frag. I care about them", which is a hell of a feeling to have when you're stained up to your elbows in one of your friend's blood, y'know?

The second vignette is when Wheeljack has moved onto be a saboteur-commando, active in combat all the time but not at the front of the pack -- it starts in the middle of the battle, Wheeljack groggily coming back to himself after getting shelled and realising that he's pinned under Rotorstorm. After a little coaxing, Wheeljack manages to wiggle out and automatically goes to patch him up, demanding to know what the hell he was thinking, swooping into try to grab him and nearly getting his wings blown off, while Rotorstorm lies on the ground groaning and complaining that Wheeljack is so ungrateful, he would have died if that had been a direct hit. They bicker about disposeability (both of them treating themselves as the less valuable combatant) and then lapse into a tense silence until Rotorstorm is ready to get up and back to the sky. Wheeljack tells him to be careful before he takes off.

The third vignette, set after Wheeljack's full transformation into a commando, starts with Wheeljack booting back up from getting knocked out, waking up to Whirl looming over him at a weird angle, babbling at him about how he's alive (boo) and Whirl was gonna raid his lab for guns and grenades, if he wasn't, steal his booze etc etc to which Wheeljack obviously takes the bait and starts backsassing Whirl while he tries to work out why he can't move his... anything, frankly. It takes a bit longer (with Whirl being a crude chatterbox, very obviously trying to distract him) for Wheeljack to realise that he's missing an arm and is pinned on something, and the reason for the weird angle Whirl is looking at him from is that Whirl is supporting his whole upper body, presumably so he doesn't injure himself further, hanging prone on whatever he's gotten impaled on. He falls quiet, which leads to Whirl immediately asking (quite panicked) if he's finally gonna kick it, but Wheeljack just reaches out to pat the side of Whirl's helm and tells him he's not going anywhere. Whirl does a little "oh. good." and then collects himself enough to go back to lamenting that he can't go raid Wheeljack's stash, to which Wheeljack calls him an asshole and promptly passes out again.

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Clingy

As I mentioned in my asks today where I was gushing about Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch, it’s about time for another clip of my fanfic novelization of this lovely game!

It’s been a while since I showed a clip of Step 3, so here is a slice from Errands! Thank you to @gb-patch​ and everyone else who enjoy seeing me gush and write about Cove and Jamie! You all make me so happy I cannot even!

Oh, and since this is Step 3 content, spoiler warning for those who haven’t played this far in the game yet.

...

Liz folded her arms over her chest and let out an amused chuckle. “We couldn’t have picked a more perfect trip. It’s been too long since we’ve had a true family outing.” She then gave a pointed look to her little sister and the baby boyfriend for emphasis.

The three parents laughed approvingly at the familiar joke. Jamie rolled her eyes at their mirth and the teasing note to her older sister’s tone even as she fought to keep from smiling herself. Her favorite next door neighbors had joined the Leimomis on this outing, which was what made it a ‘true family outing’ as Liz put it.

Cove offered Jamie a sympathetic smile when their eyes met. Some things never changed and some jokes never died, especially when it came to teasing them about their relationship. It was something they had both long since accepted. The fact that they had been holding hands since they left the cars behind naturally didn’t help lessen such teasing, but neither of them felt inclined to let go of each other.

Jamie finally allowed herself to smile as she squeezed his hand a little, her smile only widening when Cove returned the gesture. Teasing aside, she was bubbling with anticipation to explore the market and see what sort of hidden gems they might uncover. Sure, that meant wading through a sea of people to find them, but she wasn’t alone, so she didn’t pay them any mind.

The idea of spending a day traversing through such a dense crowd of strangers was not something Cove looked forward to, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with them by himself. He could tune them out as long as he had Jamie by his side. Seeing her so animated with excitement as she looked around raised his spirits, and when she smiled at him, it was like the world around them no longer mattered anymore.

Cliff turned to the group as he clapped his hands together, the sound catching everyone’s attention. “Well, I’m ready to get started. I’ve got plenty of dishes in mind I could use ingredients for.”

It was easy to see that everyone held the same sentiment. Noelani and Pamla were especially excited as they shared a conspiratorial smile with one another.

“Yes, that’s a very good idea, Cliff,” Noelani said cheerfully as she turned back to the others. “This place is much larger than it seems. It’s difficult to visit each part in a single day.”

Such a challenge did nothing to diminish Cliff’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure we can make a decent dent together at least.”

“Actually…,” Noelani said as she let her gaze wander to the rest of the group. “Since there are so many of us this time, we could take different sides of the market.”

For a second, Jamie swore she saw a hint of mischief in Pamela’s eyes before her mom turned away to look at the stalls.

“Divide and conquer, eh?” Pamela said. “That sounds brilliant.”

The suggestion took the rest of the group by surprise. No one else had considered splitting up to be an option.

Pamela flashed the group a dazzling smile to banish any misgivings there were towards the idea. “Though, it’s a little unfair that there are four Leimomi family members and only two Holdens here, so I’ll go with you boys to even out the odds.”

“That’s fine with me,” Noelani said cheerfully.

Despite the upbeat attitude and smiles Noelani and Pamela showed the group, it was clear that they were the only ones excited for the idea. Liz pursed her lips in a frown, her brow furrowing, but she kept her mouth shut. By contrast, Jamie’s mouth hung open in a small ‘o’ of surprise. Cliff awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and his gaze wandered aimlessly, as he found himself at a loss for where to look or what to say. Neither was a problem his son had.

Cove tightened his hold on Jamie’s hand reflexively, drawing her attention to his frowning face. The grip wasn’t anywhere near painful, but it made his thoughts on them being separated crystal clear even before he spoke up. “I don’t like that idea.”

Noelani was nonplussed by the resistance, smiling at Cove despite his obvious disapproval. “Don’t worry, we’ll be apart for only a few hours, and then we’ll have something to talk about at the end of it.”

Cove wasn’t especially convinced. He had never been comfortable with plans being changed without notice, especially when he wasn’t even consulted about the change. Unfortunately, he could already tell that this was a battle that he wasn’t going to win. He could be stubborn with his own parents or peers, but when it came to the Leimomi matrons, he couldn’t dig in his heels with only the argument that he didn’t want to be separated from Jamie. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he let out a sigh. Reluctantly, he nodded and released his girlfriend’s hand.

Liz let out a thoughtful hum and shrugged off her confusion. “Alright,” she said, her frown melting away into an easy smile. “I don’t get the point, but I also don’t mind spending the first part of the trip with Jamie and Ma.

Delighted, Noelani clapped her hands together in a brief show of cheer. “Wonderful. Are the teams ready to go?”

Like her sister, Jamie didn’t understand why their moms thought splitting up was a good idea. The entire point of both of their families going to the farmers’ market together was to enjoy each other’s company, wasn’t it? Splitting the group in half felt like splitting the fun in half too.

Actually, it would be even less than that if they expected Jamie and Cove to spend the day apart when they could be together.

If this was going to happen regardless of any of their opinions on the matter, Jamie knew that she had to at least suggest a compromise. “Can I be the one who goes with the Holdens instead?”

Jamie clasped her hands together as she looked between her moms hopefully. They would understand why she wanted to spend the day with Cove, right? He just got back from Nevada, and after he had been gone a long time to boot. It felt almost cruel to spend a day apart from one another when they didn’t have to.

Cove immediately perked up at the suggestion, his defeated frown turning into a hopeful smile of his own.

Unfortunately, the expressions Noelani and Pamela wore were not promising. Noelani pouted at their youngest daughter while Pamela merely shook her head with a grin.

“Sorry,” Pamela said. “No can do this time, kiddo.”

Jamie saw not even a flicker of reluctance between her parents, and the disappointment on Noelani’s face, however played up to keep the mood light, made her feel a twinge of guilt for suggesting she leave her ma’s group. Her shoulders sagged in surrender as a quiet sigh escaped her. “We won’t be split up too long, right?” she asked weakly.

A cheerful smile returned to Noelani’s face as she moved to her youngest’s side and wrapped an arm around Jamie in a little side hug. Her comforting gesture was rewarded with a lopsided smile from her daughter. “Yes, thank you, Jamie.”

With things finally settled, Pamela walked over towards Cove and Cliff, grinning in spite of the confused looks they still sent their way. “Come on, boys, we’re heading out.”

“Sure,” Cliff said.

“Okay,” Cove said with far less enthusiasm than Pamela. This trip had suddenly become a lot more of a chore than it started off as.

His gaze then turned to Jamie, and he offered her a soft smile when her eyes met his. He was drawn towards his girlfriend, stopping just short in front of her. The smile he wore wavered as he hesitated to leave. “Bye,” he said quietly, unable to hide the note of regret from his voice.

Jamie was no more thrilled to separate than Cove was, but she managed to offer him a small smile in return anyway. “Bye.”

Cove took his girlfriend’s hand in his once more and gave it a gentle squeeze, which Jamie returned. Her smile grew just a little stronger at his attempt to reassure her, which raised his spirits as well. He then dipped his face towards her for a parting kiss, his cheeks warming as his eyes drifted closed.

Jamie started to close her eyes as well in anticipation of the kiss, only to notice Cove suddenly jerk to a halt stiffly a few inches away from her.

The reason why became immediately clear as Cove twisted his head around to stare back at Pamela with wide eyes. She had seized the hem of his shirt and physically held him back. She gave another firm tug, urging him upright before letting go.

“No, no, no,” Pamela chided with a wide grin on her face as she wagged a finger at Cove. “Time’s a wastin’, Cove, and I’ve known you long enough to be aware that you’re one to linger. If I don’t stop you now, you’ll only drag your feet on parting ways more.” Her smile then turned mischievous as she shifted her gaze from him to Jamie and back again. “The two of you can snuggle and make out as much as you want later. We have important shopping to do now.”

Jamie felt her face grow hot from being called out so publicly by her mom. Cove outright gasped at Pamela, completely taken aback by what felt like a truly obscene thing for her to say.

Once Cove overcame the initial shock, he forced himself to ignore how fiercely his cheeks burned as he made an unimpressed show of rolling his eyes. “You don’t need to literally pull me away from Jamie. I’m not that clingy.”

Pamela made no effort to hide her snickering as she shook her head wryly.

The reaction wasn’t one Cove expected. He raised his eyebrows at her before he looked over at Noelani. However, the other Mrs. Leimomi refused to look him in the eye as she whistled in a supposedly ‘innocent’ manner.

Cove noticed the look Liz sent his way, particularly the sly smirk she wore that stretched from ear to ear. He whipped his head around towards his dad next. Cliff met his gaze, but could only offer a lopsided smile and an apologetic shrug.

It was only then when it dawned on Cove - everyone really thought he was that needy.

Finally, Cove dared turn to face Jamie, his eyes wide and pleading with the desperate hope that at least she didn’t agree as well.

To his relief, the look Jamie gave him was a sympathetic one. She then leveled a stern gaze to the rest of the group, folding her arms across her chest. “Cove is totally capable of being independent when he wants to be,” she said in a very matter of fact tone.

After all, Cove had recently traveled to Nevada by himself for weeks. Willingly separating from her for that long was the exact opposite of clingy. In fact, that was all the more reason for them to enjoy each other’s company as much as possible now. There was no reason for them to poke fun at her boyfriend for wanting to show her affection. How they expressed their feelings for one another was no one else’s business but theirs.

Unfortunately, it seemed that no one else saw it that way, and her attempt at chastising them for their teasing was met with a few snickers from her family. Unlike them, Jamie was not amused.

Cove, on the other hand, beamed at having his girlfriend’s support. Without thinking, he took a step towards Jamie, feeling drawn to her once more. Also, once more, Pamela snatched the back of his shirt, freezing him in his tracks.

Pamela attempted to suppress the urge to laugh, but a few chuckles escaped her anyway. “Actions speak louder than words.”

Caught newly embarrassed all over again, Cove struggled to come up with something to say in his defense. His mouth twisted and his cheeks reddened as he looked sideways at their families, who were having way too much amusement at his expense. “Yeah, well…” After a few moments of struggling, he finally had to look away with a frustrated huff. “So what?”

That admission had their parents and Liz bursting into laughter, much to Cove’s mortification.

Jamie felt her irritation grow when everyone started laughing at Cove. “Yeah, so what?” she said in a challenging tone. Before anyone could make what she was certain would be another teasing retort, she closed the distance between herself and her boyfriend. She cupped his cheek to turn his face back towards her and stole a kiss from his lips before her mom could stop them a third time.

Cove barely had a moment to register the kiss before it ended. It was so brief that he hadn’t had the chance to really enjoy it, much to his regret. He could only stare wide-eyed at Jamie as she moved back from him, though involuntarily, as this time it was Noelani pulling her back by the shirt.

“I believe you were saying something about being independent?” Noelani said, though her chiding didn’t come across as particularly authoritative since she was chuckling as she said it.

Jamie was unrepentant for her act of defiance, her grin wide and proud, though she did step back at her ma’s prompting, if only to spare her shirt from further punishment. “Cove is, but I didn’t say anything about myself,” she said wryly. That comment along with her little display set off another round of laughter from the group, but it was worth it.

 Pamela shook her head with a wide grin. “I don’t know about that, but I think we both better keep the kids on a short leash if we want a chance of getting any shopping done before nightfall, ‘Lani.” She gave a little tug on Cove’s shirt for emphasis, much to his chagrin.

“I think you’re right,” Noelani giggled as she kept her grip on Jamie’s shirt firm.

Cove didn’t have any further defense for himself or Jamie, not with the way everyone was having way too much fun at their expense. Grimacing, he strode several feet from the group, his face red all the way to his ears. He wanted to move on from this teasing, even if it meant physically moving on and away from her. At least Pamela let him go despite her idle threat to keep him on a leash.

Seeing Cove start to leave washed the taste of victory from Jamie’s mouth, but she just had to accept it. “I’ll see you soon,” she called after him. When he glanced back at her, she smiled softly at him and gave him a little wave.

Despite how Cove still burned with embarrassment, the reminder that he had Jamie’s support helped him relax a bit. He nodded at her ever so slightly as he pulled his mouth into a bent smile.

“See you in a few hours!” Pamela said as she gave her wife and daughters a cheery wave.

“Take care of yourselves,” Cliff said with a nod of his head.

With that, the groups were divided. Pamela picked a direction and set a course for destinations unknown, leading the Holden men who followed not far behind her.

Noelani gave the departing group a grin and waved enthusiastically with her whole arm. By contrast, Liz gave a much more dainty wave of her own.

Jamie continued to wave goodbye as she watched Cove disappear with his dad and her mom into the dense crowd. Because of his height, she could still spot glimpses of his pale green hair for a little while, but all too quickly even that small sign of him was lost from view.

As her arm fell limply to her side, Jamie tried to banish all the negative feelings she had towards this turn of events. Sure, this wasn’t what she wanted, but that didn’t mean the trip couldn’t still be fun. Sure, it sucked that she wasn’t going to explore the market with her boyfriend, and that was the thing she was looking most forward to and now, poof, that wasn’t happening… but she would see him in a few hours. It was silly to feel sad or let down that they wouldn’t all be traveling together.

It wasn’t as though she was actually clingy like she joked.

[passable-talent]

How about something with suitless Vader? Honestly I find dark Anakin with yellow eyes very attractive (even more than Jedi Ani!)🚶‍♀️

ooooh girl me 2

gun to my head, it’s Jedi Ani. but holy shiiittt sith anakin,,,,

At nineteen, you married Anakin Skywalker. That’s where our story begins. 

You were a Jedi, just like him. You were made a knight too early, so that you could fight in the Clone Wars, just like him. The two of you walked through life side by side, from the moment you met. 

And so, you forged a bond in the Force. 

It wasn’t strong. You couldn’t communicate thoughts, and certainly couldn’t transport matter. But you could feel each other’s presence, you could feel the other’s emotion. 

It was a tool, and you used it, both in your marriage and on the battlefield. Like no other Jedi you were a team, rivalled by no one. 

Such a bond allowed Anakin a disturbing vision. 

He would wake up in the dead of night, hearing you scream. He felt the grief deep in his stomach, and even through the haze of sleep knew what it meant- he knew that you were meant to die. 

He confided this fear to Chancellor Palpatine, who took advantage of it. You know the rest- his fall to the dark side in order to keep you safe. 

The moment Anakin sliced off Mace Windu’s arm, you fell to the ground in the middle of a battle. Your legs couldn’t hold you- there was pain throughout your body, so intense, so deep, you could barely move. It forced all of your muscles to lock and tighten, as though you were subconsciously trying to force it away. You curled up, and when your will failed, you began to scream. You feared you’d never stop. 

It was pain, anguish, horror. Grief and sadness and rage. All of them, so tangled up underneath your ribcage, and you held your fist against it. You didn’t know what it meant, it was too violent to make sense of, and you couldn’t much focus anyway. 

Luckily, Obi-Wan was there. He got you to safety, and you curled up in a bed in a ship. 

For weeks, you just tried to survive. The pain never ebbed, in fact, it got worse, but slowly you were going numb. You had escaped to Tatooine with Obi-Wan after the Clones turned on the Jedi, and he let you be. Your pain combined with your grief, for Anakin had been killed- you couldn’t imagine what had taken him down. You just had to hope it wasn’t Rex. 

Not far from Anakin’s family’s home, you lumbered around with phantom pains, barely eating, never sleeping. The intensity of it had become your normal, eyelids always heavy, muscles always locked. 

You trembled with every step, and your lips were constantly bleeding, from when you’d bitten and been unable to let go. There was a line of scar tissue bisecting each palm, where your nails had ripped them open, again and again. You lost weight, rarely eating, and so looking so sickly, your muscle still toned from constant tensing standing out underneath paled, tight skin. It wasn’t a good look, and so you’d stopped looking in the mirror, not wanting to see the ghost of a Jedi, the one who hadn’t even tried to help in the final days of the Clone Wars, the one whose skin had sunken in around their eyes and cheeks.

“Have you gotten any better?” Obi-Wan asked, bringing you a meal. You were watching the binary sunrise, trying to meditate- it was how you spent a lot of your time, now, fists clenched under your chin, biceps tight, but your mind as clear as it could be. You tried to reach out to Anakin through the Force, hoping your husband could give you even the slightest bit of encouragement, and to the Jedi who’d been lost, and even to Shmi. It never worked. You had to assume that the grief and rage coiling in your stomach kept you barred from the Force.

“No,” you replied dryly, opening your eyes. “I don’t think it’s ever going to let up. Not until I die.” 

“Or Vader dies,” Obi-Wan said, a small smile on his face as though he was joking. 

But what in the world did that mean?

“Why would Vader have anything to do with this?” You asked, and though you couldn’t see it, you suddenly sensed Obi-Wan begin to feel anxiety. 

“I- He doesn’t. I meant that his death might bring you a little reprieve, him being a Sith and all.” 

“No,” you said, slowly rising to your feet, your fists held at your side, but now there was suspicion in your voice to match them. “You meant, somehow, that all of this is connected to Vader. Like this is-” Your words dropped off, as you considered what it could have meant. 

You had a Force connection with Anakin. Obi-Wan carelessly joked that this pain had to do with Vader, which would mean you had a connection with Vader. 

Which would mean that Anakin was Vader. 

“You told me Anakin was dead,” you growled, and now all of the rage in your stomach felt your own. “You told me you watched him die!” 

It all made sense. Obi-Wan taking you away, never looking back. The time you spent on Mustafar, curled up on the floor of his ship, not knowing what he was doing. The way the pain got worse as time went on. His choice to bring you to Tatooine, where Anakin was born, where his mother died, where he would never willingly return to.

“He is!” Obi-Wan insisted, taking a step back. “Anakin Skywalker is dead!”

“No!” you shouted, and reached out, calling your saber to you. You hadn’t used the Force in so long. “He’s alive! And all this time, all this grief I’ve been feeling- he was grieving for me!” You shoved back Obi-Wan, to the door of his home. “How could you keep this from me?” The pain was familiar, and now, it was all your own. 

“Y/N, wait!” By the time Obi-Wan caught you, you’d stolen his ship. 

Now knowing exactly what you felt, you could open yourself to it. Sure, it hurt, it made the pain so much worse, but only by opening yourself to the anguish would you begin to feel Anakin behind it. 

For the first time, you started to sort through it all. 

Anger. Fear. Hatred. Grief. Sadness. And all of it- all of it was because Obi-Wan had kept you from him. Obi-Wan had known Anakin was alive, and he didn’t tell you. He didn’t trust you enough, didn’t trust Anakin enough, to let you meet. It was all Obi-Wan’s fault that you’d become so ill, that you’d been in this much pain for this long. He kept you weak. Anakin probably didn’t even know you were alive!

Returning to like Coruscant was like returning home. It had been so long since you’d seen the beautiful, sparkling skyline as it stretched on towards the horizon under a golden sky. You touched down your ship onto the Senate’s landing platform, and strapped your saber to your waist before stepping outside. 

A droid was there to greet you. 

“What’s your name?” The stupid tube of wires asked, and you turned your face toward it with a glare. Your head hung low, and your breaths were irregular, forced out with the tensing of your diaphragm as you moved through waves of anguish that haunted your every step. 

“I’m (F/N) (L/N),” you said, “And you will tell Lord Vader that I am here to see him.” 

“Uh, I don’t think I-” the droid got no further before you ignited your saber and bisected it with all the contempt of a General of the Clone Wars. You turned to the next droid, voice even more commanding, even more angry.

“You will tell Lord Vader that I am here to see him.” Thoroughly threatened, this droid did as you asked. 

You stood on the landing platform, waiting, and the longer you waited, the more it hurt. The more it got to you. You started curling, as you always did, pressing your forearms into your stomach, your spine hunching over. 

And then it disappeared. 

It took you a moment to realize the way the pain vanished, your muscles so tight, so you slowly uncurled, more confused than relieved. You looked at your hands, and shifted your legs, not having felt this light, this free, since... since you’d seen Anakin last. Did that mean...?

You looked up to where the droid had disappeared to, and there he was. 

“Anakin.” Your voice was soft, in a way you hadn’t heard it in a long time. Suddenly you had all of the grace and lightness you’d once been proud of, and you ran to him, jumping into his arms. He caught you, like he always does, and spun you as he lowered you, and the hug was so tight, you’d never let go. You curled your fingers into his robes, and he surrounded you in them, enveloped you, his flesh hand bringing his fingers into your hair. You held his neck like it held your life, keeping him as close to you as you could. 

“You’re alive,” he whispered into your neck, sounding emotional. You probed into him and felt it, too, pure relief and happiness invading the Force anywhere near him. And after weeks of nothing but pain, it was sweet like nothing else in the galaxy. 

“You’re alive,” you responded, pressing your whole body deeper into him. “I thought- Obi-Wan told me-”

“Obi-Wan wants to destroy us,” Anakin said, cutting you off. “He ambushed me on Mustafar and tried to kill me.” He pulled his chest away just far enough to press his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry you had to survive being with him. If I had known- I’m so sorry.”

“You couldn’t feel me?” You had felt his pain so clearly, even if you hadn’t known it was his. Why couldn’t he feel yours?

“No, I...” he lowered his head to kiss you, briefly, and you chased his mouth as he left. Like you were teenagers hiding in the hallway of the Jedi temple, you tried to speak in between the kisses, in the moments where you repositioned or pulled away to breathe. “I must’ve-” he lifted you up, holding you against him, hands pressing and holding all over you before moving on, as though he were checking that every bit of you was still there. “I must’ve been too focused on my own grief.” You pulled away for just a moment, cupping his face. 

“It’s okay,” you breathed, “I’m here now. We’re here- we’re okay.” Only now did you notice the gold in his eyes, but it complemented the way he looked at you, and you sank back down into another kiss. 

He took you inside, and you couldn’t be damned to notice anywhere he carried you. You just rested your body on top of him, pressing your lips to his neck every once in a while, feeling content like you hadn’t since... probably since you were married, before the Clone Wars began. 

Wherever he’d taken you seemed to be his home, based on the way the bed was unmade. He always left the sheets scattered. He sat, setting you into his lap, and you once again let your hands come to his face, your fingers slipping into his hair, your thumb running over his scar, staring into golden eyes. You missed the blue- but the gold made you shiver. He cupped your face to match, and you pressed your cheekbone into his flesh hand. 

“What happened to you?” He asked, rubbing his thumbs along the dark skin under your eyes. 

“I haven’t been sleeping,” you admitted, letting out a breath. 

“I don’t blame you,” he said with a small smile, “Obi-Wan hovering over you, and all. Luckily-” With a twist of his hips he tossed you onto the bed, and followed, crawling over you, caging you in with his arms. “We’ve got a bed right here.” 

Laying on your back, you looked up at him, and this view was so familiar, it ached deep in you to see it again. The corner of your mouth turned up in a smirk. 

“Are you actually going to let me sleep?” His eyes flicked over you for a moment, considering. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

~~~

With Anakin by your side again, you regained your strength. With you strength, you began training. With your training came anger, with anger came rage.

You’d been left to waste away for nearly a month, because Obi-Wan was too afraid of Anakin. Afraid of you! He feared what you could become if you returned to your husband, and he was right to. You, like Anakin, felt more powerful than you ever had before. With you alive, and by his side, he felt no anguish, you felt no pain, and so you could jump higher, strike faster, the Force flowed through you like wind, guiding you toward a mountaintop. Your saber skills were stronger than they’d ever been, you were faster, your focus clearer. 

And your latest focus had been one Emperor Palpatine. 

He was... a character, that’s for sure. You didn’t hold malice toward him, not the way you did Obi-Wan, but his choices in the past certainly were questionable. Maybe he needed to get into power, and maybe he needed to start a trade war to do it, but he certainly didn’t need to put Padme in danger. 

You had a number of small grievances with him, but there was one major issue. 

He sat in a throne clearly meant for Anakin. 

Anakin was the chosen one, meant to bring balance, and he had. Anakin had ended the war when he destroyed the Separatists and he’d brought down the oppressive, misguided Jedi order. Anakin was the most powerful Force user in the galaxy, it was plain to see. Palpatine was just a manipulative politician who hadn’t realized the full extent of the Sith teachings- that the master was meant to die. The student was meant to kill. If anyone was meant to rule the galaxy, it was Anakin! He was meant to bring balance, and had learned from the dark and the light side of the Force. That was certainly more than Palpatine could claim!

You’d spent your time around politicians. You knew how they think. You’d spent time around Sith, and knew what they valued. 

Which made Palpatine was easy to read. 

“You want to kill me,” you stated, one night, when you’d gotten him alone.

“My friend-”

“You know that I’m the one thing that keeps you from controlling Anakin completely.” Sidious didn’t respond, knowing he was caught. “And you need to control him, because you know he could destroy you, if he wanted to.” 

“That’s fine, I respect that,” you said, a nonchalant shrug to your shoulders. Anakin’s pain had been such a raw, burning feeling, for so long, that nothing affected you anymore. “Just know that if he knows you’re involved in my death at all, he’ll turn against you. Know that I won’t die without a fight- and the louder a fuss I make, the less he’ll trust you.” You turned from him without being excused, and approached the door, stopping within its frame to add one more thing.

“He’s smarter than you give him credit for,” you said, a threat in your tone. 

Palpatine had told Anakin that you were dead, that day. So now, he knew that Sidious was willing to lie to him. 

Anakin doesn’t take to deceit very nicely.

So, not long after the very nice conversation you had with Sidious, the throne and title of Emperor belonged to Anakin Skywalker, Emperor Vader. 

The details of how such a change happened don’t matter to much. Palpatine was very old, you see, he’d lived quite a long and successful life...

The grandest achievement of it, of course, the Galactic Empire, was passed on to his once-pupil to rule as he saw fit. 

And damn, did it look good on him. 

-🦌 Roe

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Five

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc word count :: 3k author note :: just got diagnosed with covid so i have a lot of spare time on my hands so ummm send in any requests you have into my ask box i’d love to try doing headcanons!! → next part is here!!

Erwin sees the confused look you have and now he too seems lost as he shifts his line of vision to Levi. At that moment your husband slams his heel and grinds it onto your foot. Squirming around in your seat dealing with the stinging pain you catch on that you can't let Erwin think you're clueless.

Quickly, the look of confusion washes away from your features and you return his smile. "I'm willing to do what I must."

You think you've ruined this entirely because Erwin's eyes dart suspiciously between you and your husband. However, Hange intervenes, the interference seems to be enough for him to shake off any skepticism he senses.

Two hands hold onto your frame and squeeze your shoulders. Hange is standing up and seems ecstatic."You two are just so evil." they cackle to themself and you play along laughing too. You are not giving Levi the opportunity to ram into your foot again. Hange who is practically a personified ray of Sunshine at all times does still seem a little down, you did pick up on it when you entered the room. Maybe it was just you overthinking, that's what you assure yourself with.

Then it settles in your bones. Evil? Blinking you turn to look at Levi hoping for some sort of indication about whatever is going on.

"She wouldn't listen to me at all, said she felt the need to step in and help the Empire in some way." His tone is monotonous, still not sparing you a glance and you want to kick him in the shins. He's usually much more affectionate and you're afraid Squad Leader Hange and Commander Erwin will figure out this is all a facade.

"It's a noble commitment to put yourself forward for such a risky position, I see why you and Lance Corporal Levi are a sound match." Erwin isn't smiling this time but his tone is content.

Mind now buzzing with ideas you want to fall face first into the carpeted floor of the office spread out like a starfish. You would prefer that instead of being left in the dark. Could they simply mention the name of whatever it is you've apparently offered to do?

Levi's clearly grimaces but then he moves to hold your hand rather boldly. Shaking him off isn't an available option because of his strong grip. "She wouldn't listen to me at all. If I had it my way she wouldn't step anywhere near enemy soil." He grumbles.

The fake concern he's trying to lace in his voice is having an effect on his two colleagues, they're eating it up and believe this act.

Enemy soil? Risky position? He has to be stealthily plotting your death because you see no other reason for why you would be sent off to venture anywhere near the enemy. You aren't even apart of their regime, or any regime for that matter, you're itching with nervousness and want to free your hand from his desperately.

The only emotion this man is good at feigning is straight boredom, he ignores the way your hand shakes and squirms, ignores how your palms are dampening with sweat, instead the way he holds onto you only strengthens. It's surprising that no one has said a word about the lack of chemistry between the two of you.

Suddenly Hange looks down at their pocket watch and hurriedly gets to their feet dragging Erwin up with them too. "Y/N, I have something to tell you later on, please do stop by HQ when you can, I expect that will be soon." They then tell Erwin that there's no time to loiter and that there are more important meetings to attend to.

Erwin leans into your ear and whispers. "He seems disturbed that you're putting yourself at risk. He means well." You wish that were the case but it isn't. Despite that the way Erwin tries to explain Levi's behavior is sweet.

Hange gives you a cute thumbs up but makes it a point that you need to speak later on, even as they're both walking out the door Hange keeps reminding you to meet up later on. The abnormal behavior between you and Levi may have been noticed but you know if that were the case Hange would have been more vocal about it.

"Combat classes start soon. We know this will all be difficult, building you up from scratch is hazardous but all in good time you will serve a key role in the liberation of Paradis."

Erwin's parting words are gracious.

And then both the Commander and Squad Leader leave, the room is empty but Levi doesn't even wait for the door to shut behind your two visitors.

He makes it a priority to throw your hand away from his, he's now methodically using his handkerchief to dust his fingers off. It's oddly ironic and enrages you because he's the one who grappled your hand into his grasp. What's the point when those same hands until recently looped around your waist in the middle of the night?

He thinks your hand is filthy, that you yourself are filthy and disgusting. At least that's what you think he thinks.

Crossing your arms over your chest you make your feelings known to Levi. You're frustrated beyond the way words can describe, it's not about how he refuses to touch you. Admittedly that does hurt you, makes your chest swell in remembrance of the old days but you really just want to know what he's put you up to without your permission.

Not speaking you wait for him to take the hint but he doesn't get it or he refuses to acknowledge your existence, something tells you it's the latter because all he cares about is sanitizing his hands.

He always had been a clean freak but when he was enchanted it didn't take much for him to touch you. Part of you wonders if it's the nature of the touch that he wants to exterminate or the fact it's your skin he's come in contact with which is bothering him.

"Care to explain?"

"Touching someone such as yourself romantically gives me the urge to retch." The confession is as acidic as the after taste one has after a late night of drinking, but he has no problem telling you the blunt truth.

"I see." You shortly reply, you weren't asking about that, your question was directed more towards the conversation which just took place with his colleagues but now knowing he doesn't want to touch you has an emptying effect on your chest.

A silent minute passes, maybe two minutes, you're not sure all you're doing is eyeing the carpet thinking about how you would like to be asphyxiated and brought to your end, you can't handle this for much longer.

"Sign these papers, we need your written consent." His voice shows no hints hints of Lev. Last night may have been the last time you had a chance to witness him.

A stack of documents is thrown in front of you and then you see it right at the top of the pile. A sheet filled with general information, eyes skim over the "Purpose of employment" section and you don't know what churns in your stomach. Is it Exasperation? Nerves? Grief? It can't be pinpointed, it could be a mix of all three.

"An Informant."

Rereading the title you hold the paper in disbelief between your palms. "You told your regiment that I would be willing to spy in on enemy kingdoms?"

His hands rub at his forehead, he's not perturbed at all. "Is it in your blood to be ungrateful?" Brutally cynical his tone is rocky.

He moves - not even towards you but for some reason you flinch stopping him in his tracks almost immediately. Narrow ice cold eyes trace your face carefully for any signs of manipulation or deception. Gulping anxiously you know you have to be careful with what you say or do. Getting too comfortable or casual around him is a risk you are not willing to take.

"I don't think you understand. I do not have the abilities nor the skill to do this. I would cause more issues." You cautiously move to grab his arm but before you get there he takes a wide step back. He's clearly defining that there's a boundary. You won't step into his territory not when you've already invaded a large portion of it for so long.

"I am no witch. I still don't understand what happened." You mutter hoping he believes you or at least tries to.

"Then die." Levi hisses. He fixes you with his poisonous stare. "Make it quick."

Curse yourself to a life with this man who every step of the way is hoping for your death - maybe he'll even push you towards it purposefully one day. The alternative choice available is to die by the hands of that same man right now.

Guilt and regret are what you feel, you can't look death in the eye proudly. Not right now. If you can't commit to the promise you made mother then there is truly no point in making your way to the afterlife.

Cowardice is not the cause of death you want to present her with.

With a heavy heart you sign the papers.

It's been a few days since then, you've received training from some of Levi's squad, at first the combat is nerve wracking but you get to a level where you feel comfortable in terms of defense.

Oluo is slow, you've picked up on the way his stance predicts every move he's about to make. You're thankful for that because it makes training easier, he's oblivious to just how easy it is to read his movements and you snigger at that. Today he's trying a new technique, it consists of attempting to dive in the direction of one of your shoulders and suddenly darting at the other. It catches you off guard for a second but it's simple to block him. Jumping back from another surprise attack you lunge forward as if you're aiming for his face. He lights up thinking this is his chance unbeknownst to him you've already seen the open opportunity you've been waiting for. You can change the wager in this brawl. Swiftly ducking you undercut him with one of your legs, his balance has been knocked and he stumbles teetering by a thread.

A solid kick to his stomach is all it takes for him to collapse to the ground grumbling in vexation.

Mikasa has been helping you with one on one combat and the extra hours of training behind the stables has clearly been of benefit.

Thinking back to your training sessions with Mikasa you frown, not because of the way she flipped you and shoved you into the dirt, no that part was quite exhilarating. It's Sasha. She's been on your mind. She has to be feeling left out, that's your fault you've kept her in the dark about joining the regime, how could you attend training with her? Your maid waiting on you whilst you were training? Impossible.

The last problem you wish to arise is everyone finding out you're Duchess Ackerman. No one has to know about that minor detail, in fact when you informed Hange and Erwin of your decision they strongly agreed it would be best to hide it.

"I think we should get you strapped into some gear. See how good you really are in the dexterity department." Oluo is spitefully mumbling under his breath red faced.

Offering him your hand he looks like he wants to smack it away, You don't have time for this, you were planning on dropping by and paying Hange their more than overdue visit after training hours were up.

ODM-gear doesn't look too hard, you're sure you can work out the mechanisms if given some time. Calculating and shifting time blocks in your head you can come to an end at Six, if and only if you're able to rush past ODM training.

"Okay, I admit you were tired today I could tell. I'll strap myself into some gear."

At this new new challenge Oluo willingly takes your hand and you heave him up.

He's got a cocky shit-eating grin sprawled across his face as he pats your back enthusiastically.

"Good luck, you're in for one hell of a ride."

Three dimensional ODM-gear, a contraption that is very different to a sword or dagger. Most soldiers find it difficult to master the balancing of all their body weight whilst simultaneously gliding through the air with the grapple hooks. This is why introductory lessons in balance, momentum and effective weight distribution are a must.

It's been instructed that you won't be using ODM-gear nearly as much as other members of the regiment, you're training to become a spy after all and ODM-gear is very obviously visible when a person is strapped into their uniform. Nevertheless it's still a requirement to be able to use it. It's a hurdle because it's not your forte by any means but you can't continue avoiding it.

When living as the Duchess you deemed it pivotal to only interact with a limited number of Levi's colleagues, those who worked at the estate couldn't be avoided such as Mikasa but apart from that Hange was the only outsider you spoke to (Before Erwin had come along). You don't know if you regret that decision because it's definitely why everyone is cackling as you thrash around, they have no idea he has a wife and if they do they show no inclination of knowing you are that woman.

Sniggers can be heard as you struggle to center your strength fully, your instructor bellows at you. "No, come on. STOP FLAILING AROUND!" Particles of his saliva fly in your face and that only feeds into your embarrassment. Paralyzed you don't know what to do, he tells you to not move around then the next minute barks at you to not give up, repeats that you have the agility level equivalent of a sick child.

You've been stuck in this upside down position for more time than you can imagine, at some point a large majority of the scouts including Oluo double down in laughter whenever you make a mistake - they berate you when you are trying your best.

Legs kicking out you're panicking and want to escape the harness you're in.

Oluo was right, nothing could prepare you for this.

Mikasa when she isn't busy assisting Levi is a part of the regime too, that's why she's grinding her teeth this morning when she walks into the training grounds and sees the whole scene play out right before her eyes.

She wants to desperately step in and stop this because you being forced into ODM training without having your core strength developed is unfair.

Then a yell is heard from the crowd "GO Y/N!! LISTEN TO ME ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS KEEP CALM!" Both you and Mikasa turn to see Sasha standing next to her.

Sasha? Mikasa knows very well how you forbade her to follow you today, you gave her the day off to visit her family.

"I thought Y/N warned yo-"

"I am dedicated in my service to the Lady, if she chooses to do this I will be by her side to support her. She does not have to feel embarrassed."

Members of the corps are eyeing her weirdly when she says "Lady" she doesn't know you're keeping your identity secret, that was the reason for giving her time away, you were afraid she'd slip up and expose you but simply hearing Sasha proudly announce her commitment for you in front of all these people knocks the wind right out of your chest. You've never felt this much importance before.

Sasha's motivation is all you need because by a miraculous turn of events you manage to steady your breathing pattern and find it within yourself to focus on your core. Wobbling shakily the transition is far from smooth but you flip yourself right side up, the muscles in your calf ache and throb with pain but you've done it.

Grinning from ear to ear at your two friends you feel light-headed with relief.

"Took her long enough." Levi sneers. He's made his way to the front of the crowd, you wonder when he got here. Beaming at him you think your presentation might be enough to discourage his usual response. You're incorrect.

"She's a shame to this squad, there is no need in motivating someone of her rank." Shallow breaths puffing out of you it comes to your attention that he's addressing Sasha.

She ignores what he has to say about you and stays silent, any normal person would have their head hanging down in shame but she looks into his eyes with a determination that takes your breath away.

He pays her no mind after that and turns back to where you're still struggling to keep steady. "Don't think you're hot shit." Your bottom teeth dig into your lip, and your throat suddenly clamps down on you restricting your breath. "She's no good at combat, no good at using her gear. Do you only excel at spreading lies, Cadet?" The way he's now completely indignant in the way he speaks stings. He doesn't even bother to sound normal in front of Mikasa or Sasha anymore, it makes you manually hollow your cheeks trying to keep your tears at bay.

Lies, you know what he's referencing. You want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw him to the muddy ground. That's what he deserves for prodding and poking at your vulnerabilities.

He doesn't understand the degree at which all these sudden changes are affecting you, in his eyes this is light work and shouldn't impact you at all, that's why when you feel a muscle contraction and reel backwards, rapidly falling back into that cursed upside down position. He scoffs, doesn't even move to check if you're okay.

Whispers circle around you and even some of the cadets who participated in ridiculing you step forward to take you out of your harness. However, Sasha and Mikasa get there first and shoot them with their intense glares, the both of them work on hoisting you out of your gear.

Levi takes one last look at you before he storms away convinced you're faking, what else would a runt like you do to escape the situation?

In his mind you lost your momentum and your ship capsized because of your own self sabotage.

Little does he know all that has truly lost momentum is the inner-workings of your heart and that is all thanks to him.

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Cold as You (I’ve Never Been Anywhere)

Characters: Nora (Female Sole Survivor), Father/Shaun

Relationships: Nora & Father/Shaun

Rating: K+ but T to be safe

Word Count: 1224

Summary: When Nora is assigned to take synths from Railroad agents at Bunker Hill, she knows she has to do the right thing. Even if it means facing the consequences of her actions that come in the form of her livid son.

A/N: This one is sort of canonically based? The words aren’t the exact same as the ones in-game, but it’s kind of the basic gist plus a dive into the ✨ angsty emotions ✨

  Bunker Hill. It had gone terribly wrong.

  At least by Institute standards. And maybe by Railroad standards as well. Nora was honestly not sure anymore. She ended up having to kill all of the Institute synths and every Brotherhood operative in sight that could possibly report how she was so openly defending the Railroad.

  She was tired. Exhausted even. It had been a really long day. And to top it all off, on her way to Diamond City to crash at Piper’s place, she was visited by a courser that told her that Shaun wanted to see her.

  So Nora had trudged her way to the C.I.T. ruins, finally arriving very late in the night to meet the man. She knew he was angry with the way that the mission had turned out. The fact that he was outside on the surface spoke volumes in itself.

  Therefore, when he finally addressed the mission, she was fully expecting it. But it did not stop the sick feeling in her stomach and the anger as well as disbelief rising within her as she felt all of the emotion from that day coming upon her at once.

  “I had a choice, and I chose to let them go.”

  “Why? Why would you do a thing like that?” he questioned, and she honestly could not believe just how unsympathetic he was toward these beings that he himself had admitted possessed something akin to free will. He knew that they were alive. He simply did not want to acknowledge it. He would rather that they continue being slaves for his own sick motives.

  “They were afraid. I couldn’t just look those innocent people in the eyes and take them back to a place that they’re so scared of. To people that they are terrified of.”

  “They’re not people!” Shaun cried, sputtering as he gaped at her. She felt her chest tighten with the words. She knew that he disagreed with her on many of her principles, but she had thought… she had hoped that she could convince him otherwise about the synths. Strangely, Curie came to her mind as he had uttered the words, and she shook her head slightly, unable to imagine how Curie and even the synths that she rescued that very day could not be considered as human as anyone else.

  Apparently, her small physical negation of his statement particularly infuriated him, and his face began to grow red as a different side of him altogether began to show itself.

  “They have no emotions!!! They do not feel fear, they do not feel sadness, they do not feel anything! They are machines, Mother!!!” he yelled, for the first time, that façade cracking to show the true monster beneath the shining veneer of humanity. Nora recoiled visibly, furrowing her brow as her jaw tightened as her mind focused on the way that he slung the last word as a sort of slur.

  “They are as human as you and me,” she spoke solemnly, her voice firm despite the intense lack of strength that she felt at that moment.

  “I just can’t believe you would do something so… so stupid,” Shaun hissed, the reptile in him flashing its fangs proudly. She swallowed hard, trying to instill a renewed sense of resolve within herself as she stared him down.

  “I made my choice,” Nora told him, her tone much harsher than that of the one she usually utilized to addressed people.

  “So you did,” he replied. The words were hardened, resigned, and she knew what was coming. She both welcomed it and found herself gripped by an intense and shattering panic.

  “Where does this leave us, then?” she questioned, knowing the answer, but figuring that she would ask anyway. At least it would give her something to reflect upon when remembering and regretting.

  “Well, I suppose since you have proven yourself to be untrustworthy and completely irrational, you have no further use to us. From now on, I simply request that you stay out of our way,” he sternly spoke, and Nora felt her throat tightening a bit as he delivered the words as if she were the true scum of the earth.

  But then, his expression suddenly softened into that deceiving calm that had fooled her for much longer than she was proud to admit.

  “I hope you find the peace you seek.” It was condescending despite how he tried to sugarcoat it with genuineness. It was hurtful despite how he had intended for her to take it as a comfort. It was just another way to twist the knife he had dug into her so ruthlessly.

  Her throat felt raw and her eyes were burning, but she collected every shred of force within her to speak to him.

  “For so long, I dreamed of what you would be like when you grew up. And now that you’re standing right here in front of me… I love you… But I’m just so disappointed in you.” Her entire body was trembling as her voice shook so much that she could barely utter her last sentence. It felt like a poison on her lips, burning her tongue with the pure venom in the statement.

  There was no emotion in his eyes as she spoke to him. Quite simply, this was not hurting Shaun at all. She almost envied the lack of emotion. This was killing her and cutting her to her very bone, and he was just standing there as if she were even less than the lowest scum.

  “Goodbye, Mother,” that icy tone replied, the frost in it somehow chilling her more deeply than even the literal ice that had engulfed her for over two-hundred years. It sliced through what was left of any hope and warmth she may have held in her heart for him. It was the coldest sound she had ever heard, and it would ring through her head until the day she died.

  Nora brought her hand up to her eyes quickly as the telltale bright blue flash of the relay lit up the rooftop of the C.I.T. ruins. She slowly let the appendage drop as she looked over the roof, knowing he was no longer there, but still feeling the need to check.

  She bit her bottom lip, screwing her eyes shut as tightly as she could manage. She felt the lump developing in her throat as the pure weight of everything she had gone through began to fall upon her.

  It was almost as if it were physical as her knees buckled underneath her and she collapsed on the rooftop. She clenched her teeth, the sobs wracking through her as the realization settled upon her that she had absolutely no one left.

  That was her son. The only piece of her own blood left in the world. The only chance she had at a life anywhere near the one she had. The only thing that kept her waking up early every morning to meet the sunrise with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

  And as the sun rose once again to introduce yet another day and she shed every miserable tear left in her heart, she did not have that glimmer of hope in her eyes. There was absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

  Well, that is, besides the icy hot flame of justice-seeking.

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter nine

chapter nine - the savior 

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You, Steve, and Hopper explore the Upside Down in search for the missing campers. 

warnings: swearin’, angst, violence feat. demogorgons, death! this one is dark folks!

word count: 5.5k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! sorry I was gone for two months w this story but here u go <3

===

The walkie drops from Steve’s hand and he straightens immediately, pressing his back up against Hopper’s. He holds the bat in both hands now as he scans the area.

It’s always weird, Steve thinks, how much of an impact adrenaline has on his body. He can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat and the rapid breaking of twigs somewhere in front of him. It’s almost an out of body experience - he’s numb to everything except the horror and anticipation. His knuckles turn white against the dark wood of the bat as his eyes flicker around in the near pitch blackness of the dimension.

“Steve, do you copy?”

And Steve does what seems right - he stomps on the walkie until it stops. The moment the sound goes out, the Demogorgon appears, and Steve’s tense muscles falter before stiffening again.

Hopper turns on his heel to stand beside Steve and cocks his rifle before shooting, directly into the opened flora of its head. Steve plants his feet and raises the bat as the thing gets closer. He almost feels like he’s right back at Jonathan’s house, with Jon on one side and Nance on the other. He kind of wishes that was the case, but Hopper would do.

Steve swings the bat as hard as he can once the monster is close enough and the nails slice into the thick skin of the Demogorgon. Both Hopper and Steve groan at the sound of its high-pitched shriek, and Steve rips the bat backwards before hitting it again, right where it’s ribs would be. Hopper fires more shots at it, but Steve knows it takes more than a few bullets to kill one of these things. If it can even be killed.

The Demogorgon’s mouth opens again to cry out and it slashes towards Hopper first, narrowly missing him. Steve arches forward to miss it’s claws before slamming the bat into its neck. When it cries out again, Steve aims towards it’s opened mouth and swings with all of his strength. Hopper takes a shot right after, and that seems to do the trick - the Demogorgon shrivels up on the cold ground. Hopper and Steve assault it a few more times before it finally goes limp, leaving the scene in deafening silence, save for the men’s ragged breathing.

Steve let’s the bat fall to his side, his grip on it easing. Hopper steps forward to look over Steve’s shoulder at the corpse before clapping Steve on the shoulder, sighing. The corner of Steve’s lips quirk up at the validation before he frowns when his eyes land on the obliterated walkie talkie.

It reminds Steve of Jonathan’s camera.

“Shit,” Hopper breathes, kneeling down to pick at the pieces.

Steve feigns innocence and points at the dead Demogorgon. “Must have stepped on it.”

Hopper stands. “We need a walkie.”

Steve looks at him like he’s crazy. “But we - we’re all the way in here -“

“I’ll go forward to look for the kids. You can go back to get a new one, since you broke this one.”

Steve’s mouth opens and shuts. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to split up.”

“We’ll get more done if we do.”

Steve stares before rolling his shoulders, throwing the bat back over them. “Fine. But we need to know where to meet.”

Hopper simply points at the shoe prints in the ground. “Follow these when you get back. I won’t move from them.”

Steve feels like he’s going to throw up at the thought of being alone here, but he knows that they really do need a walkie. So he sighs and nods curtly before taking off, back in the direction they came from.

“Hey, Steve?”

He turns. “Yeah?”

Hopper frowns. “Be careful.”

“No shit,” Steve mumbles, kicking at dead leaves as he continues.

===

You have no idea how literal children are handling this situation better than you, but they are.

El never really struck you as the superpower type, but you watch as she helps the portal open just slightly for you. Mike is completely unfazed, of course, like he’s watched this happen one hundred times. You stare at both of them with your jaw slightly agape before nodding. “Thank you.”

“You need a nickname,” Mike says. “For the transmissions.”

“Who is going to intercept this transmission, Mike?”

“Just -” He sighs loudly. “What should we call you?”

“I don’t give a shit,” you mutter, climbing onto your knees and looking into the portal with uncertainty.

Mike makes a noise of annoyance. “We’ll call you Athena.”

You genuinely couldn't care less, but anxiety pools in your gut as you continue to stare. El takes a small step forward. “Axe first.”

You throw it through to the other side and look up at her and Mike as you touch your waistband for the walkie-talkie you had. Your bandana is secure around your face and the goggles from the science room fog up slightly with each breath you take. If this was a prank, it was a very elaborate and good one.

“I’ll call you,” you say.

“Good luck.”

No one says it’ll be fine, or it’s really not that bad once you get in, or haha this is a big prank and we totally got your ass!. It’s just a somber good luck, with El wringing her hands and Mike clenching his fist.

Still, you continue. You have to find Steve.

===

Steve really does not like being alone in here. He doesn’t like being alone anywhere, but certainly not in the Upside Down. Any noise that he thinks might not be his makes his blood pressure skyrocket. His bat is constantly out in front of him, ready to strike at any second. His knuckles twist the bat tightly, making his fingers go numb.

About thirty minutes pass since he’s left Hopper, and he cannot seem to locate the portal he entered through.

Steve’s starting to get really scared now. He pauses his movements to think hard, eyes taking in the continuous scene of navy and black. Nothing looks familiar, but that’s probably because everything is cloaked in toxic particles and some kind of mucus that makes Steve shutter.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles out loud, taking a small step forward. “Jesus, you’re okay.”

Another small step. Then another.

A clicking sound emerges behind Steve and his blood runs cold. He can suddenly feel a presence behind him, and it sure as shit is not human. The clicking mixes in with a high pitched chittering and Steve’s knees nearly give out, but he turns and swings with the last of his strength.

He thankfully hits the Demogorgon, but the bat gets stuck in its thick skin. Steve pulls back, and pulls back, and pulls back, and he swears the moment before it swipes him it laughs at him.

He hits the ground with an audible thud and groans before rolling, narrowly avoiding its claws again. The bat is stillstuck, sticking out of the Demogorgon’s neck. For the first time, Steve curses his weapon for being useless

He jumps to his feet but is thrown down again. The claws reach him this time, swiping through his jacket and shirt and piercing the skin of his ribs. And Steve screams. He can usually grit his teeth and bare it, but the feeling hurts more than any punch he’d ever encountered. He feels bile rising in his throat and he pushes up, trying to scramble backwards. The fresh blood only motivates the monster, who comes for Steve slowly, chittering and clicking sickeningly.

Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Steve’s scream, and your heart drops to your soles. You take off, sprinting after him, too scared to shout for him. As you get closer to the sound you can hear something else, an unsettling clicking noise, and goosebumps rise on your skin. You still run, though, zeroed in on finding and saving him.

Steve’s pretty pissed. He’s been through a hell of a lot, and this was how he was going to go out. He’s a seasoned survivor and he’s about to die at the hands of the first monster that he ever defeated. And he’s pissed because he’s never going to be able to save those kids, or save the Party, or tell you that maybe he kind of sort of loves you.

Still, he braces himself, figuring that it can’t hurt any more than the pain in his ribs. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about sitting on that large rock with you at the swimming hole, feeling your soft and warm skin on him again.

Instead of hearing his own screams, though, he hears the Demogorgon let out one, a shrill and painful shriek. Steve opens his eyes curiously and his mouth drops.

You slice through the Demogorgon’s back, exposing a black interior. You pull back with a shout and slam the axe back into it, this time aiming right by the bat stuck in its neck, and it cries out again. It tries to twist back but in a complete moment of fury at the sight of a wounded Steve, you slice it’s head clean off.

The body slumps, but the head rolls, still shrieking. You march towards it and slam the axe into it over and over until it completely stops.

Steve’s never been more in love in his life.

You pant down at the head before looking back to Steve.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Steve.”

You pause for a moment longer before running for him, dropping your axe and kneeling beside him. He winces and hisses, moving his hand to his rib cage. You push it out of the way and examine him, moving back the blood soaked layers to assess the damage. It’s not as bad as you’d thought, but he’s losing a good bit of blood. You help peel his jacket off before tying the arms tightly around the wound, making him cry out.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, tears forming in your eyes. “God, Steve, I’m sorry - so sorry for everything.”

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for you, resting a blood soaked hand on your cheek before removing it. “Ah, shit -“

You grab his hand and lace your fingers through his. “Steve. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up - I should have trusted you -“

“‘s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, too. Should’ve just told you.”

“I get why you didn’t,” you laugh sadly, running a hand over his cheek. Your eyes well with more tears as you’re hit with the overwhelming sadness of his situation. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid. And he’s had to live with this for years.

“Don’t cry,” he says, furrowing his brows. “‘m okay.”

You shake your head and bring it to rest against his, forehead against forehead, eyelashes fluttering together. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Think you made it up to me,” he smiles - or maybe it’s a grimace. “Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

You push him back down when he attempts to stand, but he shakes his head, brows furrowed in concentration. “Gotta get up.”

“You’re hurt,” you say, and he sets his jaw.

“Have to help,” he pants. “Need to save the kids.”

You’d almost forgotten about them in the excitement. Your shoulders slump at the reminder and you have some serious doubts that they could have possibly lived through a hell like this.

Still, you help Steve up. He moves slowly, planting his feet and taking a few shaky breaths once he’s up. He walks towards the corpse of the monster with his back hunched and rips the bat from it’s flesh, wincing a bit as he does. He shakes it to get some excess flesh off before swinging it over his shoulder gingerly.

He looks very good like this, you think.

“Why are you here?” he asks suddenly. “How did you -“

“The kids told me,” you explain, grabbing your axe. “They told me your walkie had gone out and they needed help.”

Steve’s mad for a second before realizing he would have done the same if he was a kid with no other adult to go to.

“Demogorgon broke ours,” he explains. “Well, actually, I broke it -“

“A what?”

“Demogorgon,” he says, nodding towards the body on the ground. “Monster.”

“Like from Dungeons and Dragons?”

“The kids had a theme when naming everything,” he says. “C’mon, we have to go find Hopper.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, following after Steve, who stumbles and moves a lot slower than he had before.

“Who knows,” he mumbles. “Hope so.”

He stops walking for a moment to reach for you, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. He gives a firm squeeze and looks to you with a sad smile, but you squeeze back in reassurance.

It’s all that needs said.

“Athena to… whatever the hell - I got Steve.”

A cacophony of noises erupt softly from the walkie until Dustin says, “Is he okay?!”

“Doing great,” you lie, trying to not scare them. “We are going to find Hop-”

“Stache,” Steve corrects, only because Mike has yelled at him enough to make him remember.

You stare at Steve in annoyance but Mike also cuts in with, “He’s called Stache.”

“I do not care what the names are. We are going to find him and then we will look for the kids. Okay?”

“Over,” Steve says, and Mike says, “Over,” and you almost have a mental breakdown between the technicalities and the anxiety.

“Over,” you hiss, and turn the walkie off.

You and Steve follow the footprints that he had pointed out to you, hands clenching your weapons tightly. Steve realizes that he’s probably leading a trail straight to the two of you with the blood dripping from his ribs, but he knows he can’t back out of this. He won’t back out of this. He needs to save the kids and put a stop to this.

Eventually, you find Hopper, who’s a bit rugged but otherwise okay. Hopper stares at you for a moment, confused with why you’re here, but Steve simply points to the walkie. Hopper nods and steps towards Steve, suddenly noticing his wound. He examines Steve with worry laced in his brows, touching the fabric over the wound gingerly. “Got you pretty good, huh?”

“Hurts,” Steve mumbles, his fingers still tight around the bat.

Hopper looks to him with a newer expression, one laced more in fear than worry. “It likes blood.”

“I know,” Steve says, shifting. “We - we’ll be alright.”

Hopper is not so convinced, and neither are you, but there really isn’t much of a choice here.

“Have you found anything?” you ask quietly.

Hopper shakes his head, but points off into the distance. “But I bet we’re close.”

In the distance, you can see the buildings of the Camp. Well, this version of the buildings - dilapidated and overgrown.

“You think they’re there?” you ask.

Hopper nods, continuing to look at the buildings. “Will was….”

Your heart drops, remembering the story that the kids had told you. Steve looks sick as well, but everyone moves forward, weapons at the ready once more.

You come upon the main buildings - the cafeteria and the classrooms. The cabins are off in the distance, but Hopper is sure that if the kids were anywhere, they’d be here. He remembers where he found Will and Barb, in a sort of nest at the heart of the city. He reckons if the Demogorgons were going to have a nest, it’d be in one of these buildings.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you approach the buildings, and you stick as close to Steve as you can. He moves slowly, hunched over, but adrenaline keeps him moving. You look at him with concern, but Steve looks straight ahead, trying to act unfazed.

Hopper enters the school building first, raising his rifle and flashlight as he breaches the entrance. Steve ushers you in, looking around the outside before falling in behind you. Hopper looks around at the numerous hallways, before turning to you and Steve. “Somebody want to lead the way?”

Steve looks at you expectantly, and you narrow your eyes. “Come on, we’ve been here for weeks. Do you really not know the layout of this building?”

Steve shrugs innocently in reply and you sigh loudly, pushing past him and Hopper to lead the way. Your knees shake with each step you take, but you force yourself to stay upright. Steve moves in front of Hopper to be close to you. It’s not that he didn’t think Hopper could save you; he just wanted to be the one to do it.

The first few rooms are clear, although some are a bit more decayed than others. You have the fleeting thought that you wished you had brought something to take samples with - but who would ever believe this, anyway? The three of you pushed on, looking into each room slowly, straining to hear any signs of danger.

When you get to a new hallway, everyone splits up, checking the rooms separately to cover ground quicker.

You find the first missing camper.

The room is decayed beyond repair. Vines tangle over the concrete floor, and the same slime-like membrane covers the room and it’s inhabitants. It looks almost like a nest - cocoons on the walls, membranes with web-like appearances attached. But there were undoubtedly bodies in the room, and you stepped one foot over the threshold cautiously. You couldn’t breathe - refused to - as you took another step into the room. Your shoes stuck to the membrane on the ground and it took a bit of effort to keep moving. It felt almost unreal - the atmosphere, the scene before you. Like you were in another world completely - which, you were - but it felt like a nightmare.

Brent Albright was twelve and skinny. He disappeared first. You recognize his body immediately.

Shaking, you knelt down. “Brent?”

There was no response - no stirring, no signs of life. You reach for him and shake his arm, your own shaking violently. “Brent!”

It took every effort in you to not throw up.

“C’mon,” you whisper hoarsely. “C’mon, Brent.” You grab his wrist and feel for a pulse, but find nothing except ice-cold skin and veins.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. Soon, Hopper and Steve notice your absence, and they find you kneeling on the ground, shaking your head as you stare at his body.

Steve’s knees buckle but he pushes himself forward, following Hopper to kneel beside you.

“Gone,” you whisper.

Hopper reaches to feel the boy’s pulsepoint in his throat, but he knows once he feels his skin that he’s not there. His head droops and he sits his rifle down, cursing under his breath.

Steve shakes so hard that it feels like his organs are vibrating. He stands, takes a sharp breath in, and then strides to another room to vomit.

The scene hurt everyone, but it hurt Steve so much that he felt like he was drowning. He could always save them - he could always be the hero. He thought he’d be able to find the two campers and bring them home, safe and unharmed. But he failed them. He couldn’t bring them home. He couldn’t keep them safe, couldn’t get to them fast enough. And if he couldn’t do that, what could he do?

Steve remembers what Nancy told him about Barb. That El had found her in the Upside Down. Dead. He can’t help but to look around the room and realize that this is where Barb was when she died. Alone and lost and scared, just like Brent. And no one could save her, either, after she was ripped here right in his own backyard.

Will was here, too. Will had to deal with this. Will was probably in the same position - apparently nearly dead when he was found.

Steve digs his nails into his chest, trying to use the pain to ground himself. His head spins and he collapses to the ground, putting his head in his hands, wincing at the pain in his ribs. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.

It feels like he deserves to be next.

In the other room, you and Hopper examine the walls for any other signs of life, but find nothing that’s remotely distinguishable. Everything was flesh and bone.

Hopper rests his hand on your shoulder and sighs heavily. “There’s still a kid out there. We have to find them.”

You nod weakly. “Steve.”

“Go see if you can calm him down,” he says.

You nod and move to where Steve is, the room across from this one. He shakes alone as he curls up in on himself, and you rush for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispers brokenly.

“How?” you ask.

“I couldn’t… I shouldn’t have waited.” He shakes his head and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus, I should have looked for them sooner.”

“How would you have found them here?”

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “But they’re gone, and I couldn’t - I couldn’t do anything.”

Steve understands so deeply how Nancy felt in 1984. And he had brushed her off, terrified that they’d get hurt if they talked about it. He understands how helpless she must have felt, and it makes him feel like there’s a boulder in his stomach, cold and rough.

You wince when you hear him start to cry, and you press him deeply into your side. You feel sick and upset too, but you know you need to be strong for him.

“Steve,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

It makes him cry harder. He doesn’t know if he wants the pity or not, but nonetheless, he feels small and scared and he just wants to go home.

“There’s another kid,” you say gently. “And he needs our help, too. We have to keep going.”

Steve nods and swallows hard. He takes another deep breath - which really isn’t that deep - and sniffles, then stands, grabbing his bat and moving from the room. You follow him, frowning, tears brimming your eyes, too. But you push them back and grab your axe, setting off to find the other.

===

Fred Perkins is found just a couple of doors away. This time around, the kid is breathing.

Hopper finds his pulse, which is faint and slow, but there. He must have been recently dragged in, as he was relatively unharmed, but seemed to have hypothermia or something similar. His lips were blue and his face was paler than anything you’d ever seen - you were surprised he wasn’t a corpse. But you checked his pulse as well, and it was there.

“Fred,” you say, pushing his hair out of his face. “C’mon, buddy. Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t even stir.

“We need to get him back quickly,” Steve says. “I don’t know how much longer he can be here.”

Hopper nods, but you pause. “Isn’t the nearest portal the one that’s almost half an hour away by foot?”

“Do you want to leave him here?”

“No,” you snap. “But it’s not going to be easy, and your ribs are already messed up -”

“We can do it,” Steve says. “We have to do it.”

Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you look back down at Fred. You wish you’d brought a blanket or an extra jacket for him, but there’s nothing you can use. “Hop and I can carry him. Steve, just keep an eye open for us, okay?”

Steve stiffens, irritated, wanting to help. “But -”

“Steve.” Your voice is quiet and sincere, and he drops it.

“What about Brent?” he asks. “We can’t leave him here.”

Hopper sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “We don’t have much of a choice.”

Steve nearly becomes belligerent at this. “Leave him here? You want us to just leave him here? All alone?”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous. We can’t.”

“We can come back for him later,” you say, although it’s a lie. Eleven needs to close the portals - there’s no coming back. “We need to worry about Fred right now. Okay?”

Steve takes a slow, deep breath and nods, gripping his bat tighter. “Okay. Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Hopper really doesn’t have much of an issue carrying the child, since he’s small and skinny and had very obviously lost some weight. As he carries Fred, you call the kids back at camp.

“This is Athena, can you hear me?”

“This is Paladin, what’s your twenty?”

“We found Fred,” you say. You think it’s probably best to leave out Brent’s fate. “We’re coming back to the portal to get him out of there. It’ll take us a bit, but stay on the lookout. Have you seen anything on your side?”

“No,” Mike answers. “But El keeps having to reopen the portal. It keeps wanting to close.”

You share a glance with Steve and Hopper. “O-okay. We’ll move as fast as we can. Over.”

You clip the walkie back onto your waistband and follow closely beside Hopper, your axe over one shoulder. You pay more attention to Fred than to the woods around you, but Steve is luckily very aware of everything. Every crunch makes you all halt, looking around like prey before continuing once no threat is made obvious.  The walk feels like an eternity, and there are times where Hopper needs to rest and adjust; he still refuses any help, which irritates you, but only for a moment. You’re not sure if you could really help much.

Your worry drifts to Steve, who hasn’t said much of anything and whose jaw is perpetually clamped tightly shut. You quicken your pace to walk with him, and you run your hand down his arm in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve licks his lips, sniffles, and shakes his head just slightly.

“How are your ribs?”

“Medium rare.”

You smile slightly and bump into him. “We’re almost back. We’ll get you help.”

Steve nods, but he’s distracted. Though he can’t see anything, he feels some imminent danger that he can’t shake. The woods are dark and too quiet, and the fine hair on his neck stands on end. His hands wring around the bat as he looks around and scans the trees for any signs of danger. It’s so important to him in this moment that he protects you and Hopper and Fred. After letting down Brent, he cannot - will not - let anyone else get hurt. He’ll die to protect you if he has to.

After what feels like a hundred years, you arrive back at the portal you’d gone through. A massive wave of relief runs through you as you approach and you can’t help but to almost skip as you get closer to the portal. You call through to El and Mike who answer immediately, their own relief evident in their voices.

Steve protects you and Hopper as you kneel on the ground. “We’re sending Fred through first,” you say, helping Hopper lay him down gently. “We need to get him back to camp as soon as possible, he’s in really bad shape.”

You help Hopper feed Fred through to where Mike and El are able to grab him and bring him to the other side. You can’t help but to smile widely - you did it. You made it. Steve’s alive, Hopper’s alive, and one kid is alive. You did it.

Something snaps nearby.

Immediately on alert, Hopper jumps up and grabs his gun off the holster. You grab your axe and stand by him, behind Steve, who announces, “Company.”

You hear something wet behind you and whip around - the portal is closing. The portal is closing.

“El,” you call. “The portal -”

It closes.

“Guys.”

“What?” Hopper snaps, eyes trained on the darkness expanding in front of you.

“The portal closed.”

Both men’s shoulders - and weapons - drop as they spin to confirm your observation.

“What the -” Steve starts, but a similar, eerie clicking noise fills the air.

“Demogorgon.”

It clicks in Steve’s head within a split second - they’d been following the four of you this entire time. They planned this. An ambush. They closed the portal to corner you. Steve’s blood left the trail.

Clever shits, Steve thinks, before his bat swings at a Demogorgon that had sprung towards him.

You shout for him, but one emerges to your left. You slice through its arm with your axe, cringing as it lets out a piercing scream. You hear Hopper unloading his gun beside you, but you keep going, slicing at the monster before it eventually crumples and falls to the floor. You jump when something grabs your arm, but it’s only Steve, who quickly pulls you to run from the tree. You hear more snarling behind you and you feel like you can’t breathe with the bandana and goggles fogging up. Steve keeps pulling you though, and Hopper runs beside you, occasionally pausing to shoot back behind him.

What Hopper and Steve know, and what you don’t know, is that bullets don’t do shit to these things. The only time Steve ever saw one of them disappear was when he had set one on fire with Nancy and Jonathan - and even then, he couldn’t be certain that it actually died. It seemed that slicing through them was good enough, but maybe it wasn’t - maybe they could form themselves again. Either way, your chances weren’t looking good, and Steve’s heart plummets when he realizes what he has to do.

Steve suddenly stops running and Hopper goes to help him move along, but he shakes his head and nearly shoves him away.

“What is it?” you ask quickly. “Are - are you hurting? Can you not -”

“Go,” he says, turning around, and walking back the way you came.

You lunge for him, grabbing onto his arm, pulling him towards you. “No. No. This isn’t time to be hero, Steve -”

“They’re right,” Hopper says, taking a step towards Steve. “C’mon, we need to -”

A piercing wail pierces the air. They were getting closer.

“It’s my fault,” Steve says quickly. “It’s my fault. My blood -”

“I don’t care if it’s your fault, Steve -”

“Please.” His voice cracks. “Please. Go.”

“Not without you!”

“Kid, come on -”

Steve shakes his head and cups your cheek with his hand. “Right behind you. I’m right behind you. Go.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, reaching up to your throat. You feel like you’re suffocating. “Steve, please, not again, can’t lose you -”

But he leaves, marching towards the darkness, bat raised and shoulders back. Hopper tries to grab him, but Steve moves with such purpose that the universe itself could not call him back.

Hopper forces you to run, grabbing your arm and pulling you along. You wait to hear any noises of Steve’s certain death, but it’s eerily quiet. Only your breaths and footsteps make any noise.

You soon after land on the camp’s main buildings once more. Your mind races as you try to think of places to hide, but Hopper can see something bright and luminescent at the bottom of the lake. He stops to squint, and realizes that it’s a portal. An odd place for a portal, but a portal nonetheless. It’s your only option.

You’re confused as Hopper pulls you towards the pier, but you quickly understand as your eyes land on the open mass at the bottom. You almost stop running. “No way!”

“Hope you can swim,” Hopper says, and although you can, you’re not so sure you can survive that long - not when your heart hurts from beating, with your lungs on fire, with the absence of Steve cutting through your gut like blades. Not without him.

“But Steve -”

Hopper grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. “We have to. We can’t wait. He’ll be right behind us, he’s more than capable, but we need to go now.”

Your eyes dart back to the woods, then to Hopper. “Right behind me?”

“Promise,” he says. “I’m right behind you.”

You nod, legs and arms shaking. Your eyes move towards the woods one more time, hoping Steve would emerge, but there’s nothing except silence. You take a deep breath and step towards the edge of the pier, then another, then another. Your lungs contract and expand; your legs feel weak and on fire; and you feel your chest expand one more time before plunging into the water.

===

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[atomicstrawbrys]

Dead On Arrival

WOW i haven’t written in forever lmao, hopefully I still remember how!! I hope you enjoy the fic!! Please let me know if you did!!

Summary: Arthur and Alfred have a date. However, as Alfred finds himself unable to attend due to a rather...serious condition, it is up to Arthur to make sure they get to their dinner reservation on time. USUK.

Warnings: gross imagery, character death, violence

Words: 2583

Honestly, of all the times for Alfred to die, it had to be a few weeks before their big dinner date. 

Arthur had made the reservation months in advance, as The Boathouse was always packed full of the rich and influential, and, hell, he’d just wanted to have one really nice date. Sure, he adored Alfred, and loved being with him no matter where they were, but he’d been looking forward to getting all fancy and renting a nice car for the night, to coming home late and getting pounded into the mattress before they would wake up and resume their normal lives. 

And then Alfred got himself killed. A mugging gone wrong; they’d said. Alfred wasn’t even the intended victim, but he’d noticed the crime unfolding and had stepped in. The initial target had run away, but Alfred had not been so lucky. And oh, how his family wept. As did Arthur. He couldn’t even be considered a widower, as he had asked Alfred to prolong their engagement, putting off the wedding until they were secure enough to afford a decent house. How silly that seemed now- if he could go back, he’d have gone with Alfred to the courthouse the very day his fiancé had proposed. 

And now, instead of planning a wedding, Arthur had planned a funeral. Closed casket, at his insistence. He didn’t want to see Alfred, a man who represented the very definition of life, reduced to a cold meat sack. They’d lowered his love into the ground, and, rather than a goodbye, Arthur departed with a ‘See you later, Darling.’ And, if he had anything to say about it, he would.

On the day of their date, Arthur rolled up to the cemetery in the rose gold Ferrari they’d reserved for the occasion. He stepped out in his crushed velvet suit, checking his watch. He had a little less than an hour before they had to be at The Boathouse. If they were even a minute late, they’d lose their reservation, so he did hope this would be quick.

Opening the passenger side door, Arthur retrieved a weathered tome from on top of the seat. He’d had this particular book of magicks for a while now, though before Alfred’s death, he’d never intended on getting involved in necromancy. Well. Maybe only a little, but still. The tome itself felt odd in his hands- it was bound with some type of animal skin, but not like anything he’d ever felt. He had plenty of old books, but this didn’t feel like any of the others...it also had this weird, fleshy color that wasn’t too far off from his own, and- Nope. Nope, that train of thought had gone far enough. Whatever the book was made out of, he didn’t make it, so it wasn’t his problem.  He flipped through the pages of the tome as he walked through the graveyard, stepping over and around the headstones of those he was much less attached to.

When he arrived at Alfred’s grave -a nice little spot underneath the shade of a tree- Arthur took a moment to read the inscription on his headstone.

“Here lies Alfred Jones. Beloved Fiancé and Friend. Loved by all who knew him.” Beneath that were the dates that marked his birth and death, a short twenty-five years that seemed much too short for a man who loved life so much.

Before Arthur could contemplate on the tragedy further, he shook himself out of his thoughts  and held up the ancient book. He read the page-long incantation labelled only ‘Reanimation.’ Once he’d read it through a few times, he set the book down in the grass, leaving his hands free.

As he chanted, Arthur took out his pocketknife, bringing it up to his hand. The blood of the living to awaken the body of the dead, that was the exchange. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to slice his palm, despite what was often shown in movies. Instead, he nicked the side of his wrist, letting crimson droplets sprinkle the freshly tilled earth of Alfred’s grave. With a final flourish, he wiped his wrist across Alfred’s headstone, the grey inscription now painted red. Then, he waited. Forty-five minutes until their reservation- Alfred had better be quick about this ‘coming back to life’ business.

For a moment, nothing happened. Arthur had been beginning to lose hope, beginning to wonder if the Definitely-Not-Human-Skin tome had been little more than a cheap Halloween decoration. But then, the earth beneath him shifted. There was something shifting around down there, or, rather, someone.

A hand burst through the dirt, clawing desperately towards the sky. Arthur, recognizing the engagement ring on Alfred’s finger, lunged forward and grasped his palm in both his hands. He pulled as hard as he could, the hand eventually giving way to an arm, and then a shoulder, and finally, to the rest of Alfred.

At first, Arthur could just stare. Alfred’s body, once decomposing, slowly began to knit itself back together until he looked, well, sort of normal. Alfred just stared back at him, light blue slowly pouring back into his milky white eyes. They weren’t as clear or brilliant as before, sure, but Arthur didn’t mind in the slightest. Alfred always looked perfect, even as maggots wriggled in the flesh of his crudely reconstructed body.

“Baaaaaaaaabe?” He rumbled, his voice garbled and slurred. Arthur could only laugh then, pulling his fiancé into a hug.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s so good to see you! Ha, don’t you bite me, now, I’ll not be responsible for some zombie apocalypse.”

“Ha. Ha.” Alfred’s raspy voice replied, jerking an arm up to Arthur’s back to give him a squeeze. “Missed...you. Sorry…”

“Hush, Alfred, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Arthur blinked quickly, shaking his head. He’d known the moment Alfred died that he would be bringing him back, but still, having the weeks without him...Arthur never wanted to do that again. And now that Alfred was back... it was a good feeling. “We do have a dinner reservation in like half an hour, though, so we’d better get going. It’s a good thing you’re already in your best suit.” He leaned back, pressing a kiss to Alfred’s cheek. Alfred’s lips twitched into something that resembled a smile.

As they pulled up to The Boathouse, Arthur slipped out of the passenger side. Alfred’s parking job was crooked as all hell, but it still wasn’t the worst he’d ever done. Perhaps it had been a mistake to put Alfred behind the wheel, but Arthur didn’t really like to drive, and besides, Alfred had geeked out once he saw the rented vehicle. He’d run up to the driver’s side as quickly as he could manage, which, to be fair, wasn’t very fast for the time being. Rigor mortis was not being kind to Alfred for the moment, and all his movements were jerky and stiff. It might ease up over the course of the night, but, even if it didn’t, Arthur found the way he moved to be absolutely fascinating. 

Walking up to the restaurant with Alfred, Arthur held on to his fiancé’s hand, giving him a smirk. “I think I shall drive on the way back, Love. As much as I’d prefer not to, I’m a little worried that if I let you, I shall have to reanimate someone else before the night is out.”

“Boooo.” Alfred groaned in response. Arthur’s smile only widened.

The hostess of the restaurant seemed rather uneasy as she sat the two of them down at their table. Why, Arthur couldn’t begin to fathom. Even their waiter made little more than fleeting eye contact with them, practically throwing their menus to avoid stepping close to the table. Arthur just gave him a polite nod, opening it up and looking over the options. 

“Well, I think I shall be getting the Lobster Thermidor. And you, Darling?”

Alfred grinned then, a little more easily. He waggled his eyebrows.

“Braaaaaaaaaaaaains.” He snickered, and Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you funny. I already told you, no one is starting an apocalypse tonight. We can talk about it in the morning.” Arthur’s lips twitched up into a grin.

Alfred smiled, and, rather than giving the wheezing chuckle Arthur expected, he started to laugh. Sure, it was deep and bone-chilling and almost definitely not of this world, but it was still Alfred’s laugh, and Arthur’s heart melted at the sound of it. Then, Alfred looked back at his menu.

“Seared scallop pasta...looks good.”

Arthur nodded, and, once the waiter returned, relayed their order back to him. The waiter, again, would not get anywhere near their table, but that was no matter. Even if Arthur did have to speak up a bit for the other man to hear him, as long as the order was taken, it was alright.

As they waited, Arthur looked at his fiancé, fiddling with his own engagement ring that Alfred had spent way too much on. Alfred’s gaze wandered now, cloudy blue eyes taking in the restaurant and its patrons. He was still Alfred; Arthur was sure of it. Sure, he was pallid, and his body was...misshapen in some places. Sure, there was a weird wet ooze that soaked the front of his suit. Sure, he walked like a doll without articulated joints, and sure, his voice sounded as if there was dirt in his lungs. And, sure, his chest did not have the rise and fall of breath, indicating that perhaps Alfred no longer needed to breathe at all. But he was his fiancé, and, had they gotten married, Arthur would have pledged to love him until death parted them. Hell, Arthur loved him so much that death had failed to part them.

Alfred’s eyes refocused on him, and he smiled. “ Arthur…” He clumsily jerked his hand across the table, taking Arthur’s warm palm into his cold one. “Love...ya.”

Arthur felt a warm, soft smile spread across his lips as he looked down at their hands. It had only been a few weeks since he’d lost Alfred in the first place, but he’d gone far too long without hearing his partner say that he loved him. He blinked back misty eyes and nodded.

“I love you too, Alfred. So very much.”

When their meals arrived, the waiter’s hands subtly trembled as he set their plates down. Arthur pretended not to notice. He also pretended not to notice the way Alfred tore into his food- like he was a barely contained animal with a crazed hunger that flashed in his eyes only momentarily. Still, when Alfred looked at him, his eyes contained only warmth and adoration, so Arthur decided he wouldn’t worry about it too much.

After dinner, Arthur paid their bill, and helped Alfred to his feet. They left the restaurant, Arthur hugging his fiancé’s arm and nuzzling against his shoulder. He was sure the staff was glad to have them out of the building, and, to be honest, Arthur was glad for the fresh air. Alfred didn’t exactly smell the best anymore, but it was nothing a bath and some cologne couldn’t have helped. 

“Tonight was really nice, Al.” Arthur hummed, looking up at him. “I’m really glad we got to go out again. It’s...” His voice thickened. “It’s been really hard without you, you know.” 

Alfred slid his arm up Arthur’s back with more grace than he’d possessed the entire night, and gently squeezed Arthur to his side. He pressed a clammy kiss to Arthur’s temple, his eyes sad and apologetic.

“I didn’t...wanna leave you.” He murmured, and Arthur nodded, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist.

“I know, Alfred. I know. And I don’t...blame you, for what happened. You tried to do what was right, and you probably saved a life in the process. I only wish you’d come out unscathed.”

They reached the car, and Arthur opened the passenger side for Alfred before he climbed behind the wheel. He smiled at him, and, as they drove, he held his hand across the console. They rode in silence- not uncomfortable, but not quite comfortable either. Arthur wondered where Alfred had gone after he died- if he’d gone anywhere at all. But although he knew Alfred could answer him, he didn’t ask. He wasn’t meant to know what happened to a human soul after death, and he was alright with leaving it a mystery. As long as Alfred was alright, that was all the information he needed to know.

As they pulled back up to the cemetery, Alfred sat up, looking confused.

“Here?” He looked at Arthur, tilting his head. “What about...home?”

Arthur parked the car and turned off the headlights. “I know, my Love. I wish you could come back with me, too. But...you can’t, we both know it. What is your family going to think if your grave is empty tomorrow? And besides- I’m a little worried about the effects of keeping you out here for too long.”

Alfred’s lips drew into a pout. “Wouldn’t bite anyone...” He crossed his arms, looking down at his lap.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. All the same, I think this is for the best.” Arthur got out of the car and went around to open the trunk. He pulled out a shovel and motioned for Alfred to follow. Reluctantly, Alfred obeyed, getting out and shuffling up the hill to the place he’d been buried.

“Right, then. In you go- according to the book I read, once you’re back in there, you’ll...you’ll fall asleep, and...you know. You’ll go back to wherever you were before I woke you.

Alfred looked down at the dark, damp hole, and shot his best puppy eyes at Arthur. Arthur crossed his arms and acted like he wasn’t affected, but they both knew it wasn’t true.

“Goodbye, Al. I’ll miss you.” He gave him a little smile, but his lip wobbled.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“I know.”

Alfred sat down at the edge of his grave, legs dangling as he stared down into it. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he started to ease himself back in.

“Ah, fuck,” Arthur murmured, shaking his head. “I’ll wake you up again next week, okay? We’ll stay in- we’ll order pizza and watch a movie. As long as you promise we’ll have you back in here before sunrise.”

With a surprising fluidity, Alfred shot up out of his grave and crushed Arthur to his chest in a hug.

“Okay! I love you!”

Chuckling, Arthur hugged him back, pressing a soft kiss to cold lips. “And I love you. Now, get back in there before I change my mind.”

Nodding, Alfred wasted no time in hopping down and lying in the splintered remains of his casket. He smiled up at Arthur and waved before he closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

It took almost an hour, but, shovelful by shovelful, Arthur filled Alfred’s grave back in. He finished it up with a resounding pat-pat, then “borrowed” a rose from a nearby tomb and placed it down at Alfred’s headstone. He pressed a kiss to his dirt-crusted fingertips, then pressed his fingertips to the cool stone.

“See you next week, my Love. Sleep well.”

And with that, Arthur hefted the shovel up onto his shoulder and headed down the hill, already thinking about what movies they’d watch on their next date.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 16 (Mafia AU)

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning:  Lemon goodness!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

~~*~~

Read Chapter 16 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As heated as Edge’s kisses were, the warmth dissipated quickly when Edge led him out of the green room. Standing outside the door was one of the Dog guards, his expression the same blandly impassive as they usually were and that was enough to set Rus firmly back into reality.

Rus stole a single glance at that furry, emotionless face before he looked away, a stupid blush rising in his cheekbones. He couldn’t help wondering if this Dog were part of the security team that had seen him dancing on the cameras, but there was no way in hell he was going to ask. Better to banish that idea from the ol’ memory place and move right on.

Maybe Edge felt sort of the same or maybe he was still feeling a little handsy after everything. Instead of leading the way, he slid an arm around Rus and guided him to walk beside him, settling a large, warm hand at the base of his spine like a sort of backwards leash. Edge was wearing gloves, but they weren’t much of a barrier and the light touch against his exposed vertebrae made Rus shiver.

This was…this was fine, and he trotted along beside him as quick as he could without outright running, partly to keep up with Edge’s long strides and partly because the floor was damn cold on his bare feet.

If there was one thing he’d learned from all this it was that sexy didn’t have much in common with comfort, and that was the truth.

The path they took was different from the one this morning and led to an elevator instead of stairs. Crowded into the lift, Rus didn’t think he’d ever felt more awkward in his life as he stood there between Edge and the Dog, tarted up in the clothes Mona chose for him like the shiny jam-filling between two claustrophobically oversized slices of bread. He practically darted out when the doors opened, waited only long enough for Edge to gather him up again, herding his lost sheep through the hallways.

Edge didn’t seem to feel the need for all the tricksy backwalking that the Dogs usually did and led a straightforward path around the corner to a door in the middle of the hall.

Rus blinked, confused. “this isn’t my room.”

He was pretty sure about that, anyway. All the doors were exactly the same and Red’s tricksy tricks made it hard to keep tabs on anything, but as confusing as the corridors were, Rus knew for sure that there was a wall sconce across from his room, not a painting. Probably both were rigged with spy cameras or microphones, angel knew what.

“It isn’t,” Edge agreed. A press of his hand against a panel opened up a familiar keypad and Edge tapped in a code, the numbers obscured from Rus’s view. “It’s mine. Your brother can wait a little longer to see you.” He slanted Rus a knowing look. “I’m gathering he didn’t take your chat about us very well.”

“not really.” Rus blinked hard against the sudden stinging in his sockets, trying not to think about the accusations Blue flung at him.

He followed Edge into the room, the same room as earlier, had it only been a few hours since he’d been sitting on that wide sofa, healing Edge from the burns whose marks were still faintly visible on his bones? This entire week was rushing by at lightspeed, so many things coming at him at once.

Earlier, he hadn’t gotten a very good impression of the room past ‘posh’, more than a little distracted by Edge being, you know, burnt up. Now as he was looking at it, the expensive vibe was still winning the race but there was a close second coming up from behind of…unimpressive.

Yeah, the sofas were huge and plushy, the bed frame and side tables ornate wood carved in curlicue designs. Oriental rugs lined the floor, decadent cushions and pillows carefully placed. What it really screamed was a lack of any personality whatsoever. Like it hadn’t been five minutes since a designer came in and did their thing, leaving it coldly uncluttered and stark.

There was no personality, no shoes half-kicked under the sofa, no books piling up on the nightstand with a glass of water for the midnight thirsties. The sofa was nice, but there wasn’t a single anomaly in the cushions, a slight indent that revealed which one was the favorite. Back home, their walls were covered with pictures, Blue loved photographs, and there were so many of them; from when they first came to the surface and those first six months that all Monsters spent in quarantine, pictures of them working in the garden, from the grand opening of the shop.

There was plenty of art here, all of it probably expensive, not that Rus knew the difference between museum quality and dentist waiting room, but not a single photograph, not even a family shot on the nightstand. Which, okay, a candid shot of Red staring at him all night wouldn’t give him sweet dreams, but that was Edge’s brother, not some psycho stranger who’d abducted him right off the street.

Even their current borrowed room had a touch of clutter after only two days. This one was so impersonal, utilitarian despite the implied comfort. There was nothing of Edge here, nothing whatsoever, as blank as an expensive hotel room. This was nothing more than the place Edge slept and dressed, it wasn’t a home, and that seemed so wrong.

His impromptu assessment short-circuited when Rus realized that Edge hadn’t paused to sit at the sofas. He walked past those cushy seats to the bed, toeing off his shoes and lining them up precisely next to it, then impatiently shoving the curtains back as he settled to lay on top of the plush comforter with a loud groan, clothes and all.

Rus hung back, unsure. If Edge was planning on going to sleep, did he expect Rus to lounge around his room and…what? There wasn’t a television that Rus could see, not so much as a paperback lying around, and Rus didn’t even have his phone to play a couple rounds of Candy Crush.

Before Rus could plop down on either of the sofas to spend some quality time twiddling his thumbs, one of Edge’s sockets cracked open to show a gleam of crimson, his unscarred brow bone rising pointedly as he held open an arm in invitation. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a question and not precisely a demand. More like an expectation and when Rus didn’t move, only shuffled his bare feet against the carpet undecidedly, that brow bone rose higher still. “I only want to hold you,” Edge said, “it’s been a very long day. Can’t you give me that much, flower shop?” One corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smile of his, settling at a near smirk, “Considering that I was getting ready for bed when I heard about your latest disappearance, I think you owe me that much.”

The last thing Rus wanted to get into was a conversation about debts, seriously. He had no idea which side was in the red anymore, but he knew which side Red was on and Rus wasn’t liking his odds. He still waffled, lingering back. “like i haven’t been losing sleep over you, asshole?” Rus muttered.

That half-smirk only widened, unoffended. “Well? Make a choice.”

Somehow, Rus didn’t think he only meant this bizarre version of snuggle time. He shuffled closer, slowly climbing onto the wide bed, crossing the plains of it like a damn wagon train heading to California. But his reluctance vanished by the time he settled cautiously against Edge’s side. He was big and warm, the spice of his cologne sharp in Rus’s nasal passage, and one arm looped around his back, a large hand settling to rest almost chastely on the upper curve of Rus’s hip.

Both of them were still fully clothed even if Rus was a little more exposed in his dance outfit, intimate without being intimidating. As much as he hated to admit it, it felt…nice. Safe.

Rus gave in and snuggled closer, settling his skull cautiously on Edge’s chest. Felt the rise and fall as he took a deep breath and let it out in a contented sigh. Edge’s arm tightening around him, his hand rubbing a gentle, soothing circle against Rus’s hip. There was a soft touch against the top of his skull, a kiss, coupled with a gust of warm breath.

As tired as he was, Rus found that he wasn’t anywhere close to drowsing off. His thoughts were still agitated, questions bouncing around on the inside of his skull. Without letting himself think too hard about it, Rus blurted the safest one. “how did you get involved in all this? the club, i mean. you know what i mean.”

Edge’s gloved fingers dragged an absent path up Rus’s spine, leaving a tingling trail behind them. “Hm? That’s a long story.”

Of course it was. “give me the reader’s digest version.”

He felt Edge smile against his temple. “All right.” For a long moment, he said nothing, only gently pet the many bones that Rus’s clothes left exposed, but if he was hoping to lull Rus to sleep without answering, that was off the table. Rus shifted restlessly and he finally spoke, slowly, as if selecting each word with care.

“There were four of us when we first came to the surface,” Edge said. With his head resting on Edge’s rib cage, Rus could hear the vibration of his deep voice from within his chest, the words coming in strange stereo. “My brother and myself, Blaze, and Gaster. I’ve known Blaze since I was a child and Gaster was…I suppose our godfather, that’s as good a word as any. He raised us and he was the one who set up this little empire, he started nearly the moment we stepped out into the sunshine. He gave the orders and we followed them, without question.”

Referring to someone as ‘was’, yeah, that was kind of a big hint, but Rus asked anyway, haltingly, “so...um. what happened to him?”

“He disappeared one night.”

“he left?”

“I don’t know,” Edge said, and something in his tone warned about asking any more questions about that, “He was simply gone. Red took over after that and we finished building up this place as a home base.”

Their godfather up and vanished one night and no one looked any deeper into that.

Yeah…

Rus was no Sherlock Holmes or even a Watson, but that seemed, oh, what was the word, really fucking suspicious?

Then again, like he had room to talk, their pop had done something pretty similar before they ever came to the surface. Went off to get drunk, same as always, and never came back. In his case, the whole town went looking and never found so much as a speck of dust; for all Rus knew, his pop was out there somewhere alive, maybe starring in an Underground music review with this Gaster guy.

He wondered if Edge had been scared when Gaster disappeared, like Rus had. Or if he’d been guiltily relieved that it was over, and he wouldn’t have to deal with all that shit again…like Rus had. But in their case, with one man down, that left three.

“and blaze?” Rus asked, cautiously.

“That’s an entirely different discussion.”

Hmph. “that wasn’t the reader’s digest version, that was barely a tik tok video,” Rus complained. “when do i get the long version?”

“You don’t,” Edge said, and the coolness of his voice belied the heat of his fingertips fondling their way back down Rus’s spine. They teased at the waistband of his pants, barely skirting beneath the fabric. “I told you once, I am a very bad person. I wouldn’t taint you by telling you all that I’ve done. All I can say is that for every deal with the devil we make, some good comes of it, and if the price of helping our people is my soul, I’ll gladly pay it.”

Difficult as it was, Rus shook off Edge’s hand, sitting up enough to scowl back down at him. “nice speech, but if you don’t want me knowing anything about you, where does that leave me?” Ignoring his inner voice shrieking that it was better to stay in the dark, safer, ignorance was the only path back home.

“Right here.” Edge rose up on one elbow, his other hand gentle on Rus’s chin as he leaned up for a kiss and, damn it, someday Rus wasn’t going to fall for this. Someday he wasn’t going to melt like a pat of butter on fresh toast at the heat of Edge’s mouth, the curl of a tongue against his own, gently coaxing. For a moment or so there was only that, a cautious meeting of mouths that slowly turned more insistent, parting for gasps of breath before hungrily meeting again.

The world seemed to spin suddenly, revolving, and then the mattress was soft beneath him. Rus dazedly realized Edge was above him now, knees nudging his legs apart as his heavy weight settled between his femurs.

Wait, Rus tried to say, the word catching in his throat as Edge abandoned his mouth to bite a delicate line along his jaw

“oh,” he whimpered aloud. He fumbled for words that skittered out of his reach, unsure if he even wanted to speak them. He couldn’t focus, his attention torn in a dozen directions; the pressure of Edge’s weight pushing him harder into the mattress, the tease of his mouth sucking at his mandible joint, and his hands never stopping, roaming over him from his skull to his hip, touching, coaxing, soaking him in pleasure so quickly. Too quickly, days’ worth of pent up desire shaking loose of their bonds to follow that touch.

Edge shifted against him and knee slid higher to press firmly at the join of Rus’s legs, rubbing at his pubic arch through the too-tight trousers. He cried out, a half-voiced whimper of protest twisted up with an almost alarming need. “wait…i…i don’t…”

“Shhhhhh,” Edge breathed. His mouth was searing hot against the side of Rus’s skull, crooning into his auditory canal. “Let me, pretty. My pretty little flower shop.” His hand slipped down into the cradle of Rus’s pelvis, not into the agitated swirl of magic gathering there, but tracing his ilium in an agonizing tease. He could hear the smile in Edge’s voice as he murmured, “You’re trembling.”

If he’d had a single wit still in his possession, Rus would have snapped out, ‘no shit!’. He could hear that he was trembling, the muted rattle of his bones as shivers wracked him. But mere thinking was far past his skills right now as that teasing touch suddenly became so much more pertinent, fingers gliding down to rub circles against his sacrum, a matching rhythm to the rocking pressure of his knee.

Rus nearly sobbed as he tried to arch up, struggling against Edge’s weight holding him down. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, his breath panting harsh and the pulse of his soul so loud inside his skull he barely heard Edge whisper, crooning to him, a request and a demand as one, “Come for me.”

His knee pushed hard against his crotch at the same moment his fingers dipped down, fitting against the groove of his pubic symphysis, the rising wave of his pleasuring cresting with a garbled cry, “oh, oh, OH!”

His whole body quivered, carried along by sudden ecstasy and Rus could only whimper and let it take him. Shivering and choking out little cries even as he sagged weakly into the mattress, wrung out and undone.

Damp breath gusted against his temple in a fervent groan, “There. So beautiful, my beautiful flower.”

Rus only lay there gasping, limbs gone weak and limp. He squinched his sockets tightly closed and waited for Edge to strip away his pants, waited for a hand to take his own and guide it down to the hard shaft he’d felt pressed against him. Long moments passed and eventually, anticipation melted into confusion. Rus opened his sockets to see Edge still hunched over him, taking long, slow breaths to settle his aroused magic.

With a grimace, Edge rolled off him and the loss of his weight left Rus strangely bereft. He reached out unthinkingly.

“Don’t,” Edge gritted out. He caught hold of Rus’s hand before he could snatch it away, softened his words with a light kiss against his palm. “Not right now, not tonight.”

“oh, but,” Rus could only blink in dumb confusion, “why?”

“Because when I make love to you, you’ll spent the entire night in my bed.” Edge’s voice went lower, deep and dark, and a renewed flush of heat lit inside Rus, a kindling spark. “I want to be sure I can see your face when I make you come.”

A blush flamed across his face, burning hot, and Rus was almost ready to beg for that, even with little twinges of pleasure still lingering, but Edge’s smirk soured. “I don’t believe your brother would accept that tonight, I’ve been advised he’s anxious for your return.”

Been advised? How and by who? Reluctantly, Rus sat up, wondering if his trembling knees were even going to hold him. At least he could be grateful that his pants were black, it would hide the dampness he could feel between his legs. He really hoped they’d give the clothes a wash before taking them back to Mona.

Edge slid off the bed, frowning down at his wrinkled suit. He shed his jacket, tossing it on the bed and hey, his first piece of clutter, Rus could be a good influence yet. With a practiced yank, Edge untucked his shirt, pulling off the tie and loosening the top few buttons. It lent a casual appeal even as it exposed the lines of his collarbone, the slender bones oddly delicate on his large frame.

Great, he looked cool and casual, and Rus looked exactly like he’d just been rolling around in someone’s bed. That was a little more honest than Rus felt like being with his brother right now and maybe Edge agreed, because he disappeared behind a nearby door and when he came back out, he was carrying a shirt, a close match to the one he was already wearing.

He helped Rus slip it on and Rus couldn’t help a laugh at the way the sleeves fell far past his fingers. Between the two of them, they rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, Edge’s side neat and precise, and Rus’s a lopsided attempt. He stood like a child while Edge buttoned it and now shyness was creeping in, leaving him a little uncomfortable. He was grateful to be covered, his spine and ilia hidden behind the oversized shirt.

Rus bit back a yelp as Edge suddenly dropped down to crouch at his feet. He took hold of Rus’s bare foot with both hands, urging it to rest on his knee as Edge plucked loose the glittery ribbon still wound through his tibia and fibula.

Yeah, that was probably a good idea. The once-crisp bow was drooping sadly by now and it would surely bring up questions that Rus didn’t really want to answer. He honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to Blue at all and the urge to ask Edge to let him stay the night after all was strong. But this was his problem to deal with, not Edge’s and it wasn’t fair to ask him to step into the middle of it. Edge was already cobwebbed into the center of enough webs.

The rough feel of the ribbon gliding against his bones as it was pulled loose distracted him, making him shiver, his toes curling. He braced his hands against Edge’s shoulders, leaning against his solid support and it was a good thing he did because as soon as the ribbon fell away, Edge ducked his head to press a kiss against the newly sensitive bones.

“There.” Edge let go of his ankle and Rus set his foot back to the floor, trying to ignore the renewed wobbliness of his knees. “Let’s get you back to your brother.”

His sudden trepidation was harder to ignore but Rus managed, nodding and he said as firmly as he could. “Let’s go.”

The walk was a short one without the pretense, his room was only two turns down the corridors away. Rus hesitated in front of the closed door and turned back to Edge, looking up into his bright, crimson eye lights.

So much had happened that a simple good night seemed kinda pathetic. They were way past the conventions of a first date, hell, they’d skipped that part of the manual entirely. But there was a Dog standing on one side of their door as a guard and his brother was just inside, and Rus’s mind was a blank page.

Edge saved him with a brief, soft kiss, huh, saving seemed to be his personal kink and holy shit Rus did not just think that. He banished the thought, rising up on his toes to return that light kiss and sighing unhappily as Edge broke it and stepped back.

“It’ll be all right, flower shop,” Edge told him softly. Rus nodded stiffly and turned away. He took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.

“blue?” Rus barely had time to close the door before a blur flew across the room and attached itself to his legs. He flailed back a step, only saved from falling to the floor by the door behind him.

“I’m sorry!” Blue blurted, “I’m so sorry, brother, I didn’t mean it.”

Rus blinked hard against the sudden well of hot tears, dropping down to his knees to pull his brother into a fierce hug. “it’s okay, bro.”

“It’s not,” Nearly a sob and already the front of Rus’s shirt was growing damp. “It’s not at all!”

That was probably truer than Rus wanted to admit. A hasty apology wasn’t going to heal his aching hurt at the memory of his brother’s accusations. But it was a start and he couldn’t bear to listen to his brother crying, not now.

“look, let’s just get some sleep, tomorrow we can have a long talk and i’ll tell you everything.” Rus hesitated, took a deep breath, and forced out, “I promise.”

He meant it. He was going to tell the entire story from the beginning and if it made his brother hate him, then so be it. Whatever else happened, the lies and hidden truths between them were going to end.

Blue nodded, his chin digging into Rus’s sternum, “All right. But it doesn’t matter, Papy, none of it matters except that you’re back.”

They sat there together, caught in a tight embrace, until the cold of the floor started to seep its way in. “bro, i love you,” Rus said ruefully, “but my ass could use a new seating arrangement.

“Language,” Blue said with a watery laugh. He let go then, turning away so briskly that Rus frowned, watching his brother bustle away. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pajamas, everything will seem better after some sleep.”

He kept his face turned away, not looking at Rus and that was more than a little strange. He was used to Blue looking him over like he was studying for a test. “bro?” Rus asked, hesitantly, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” That single word bordered on maniacally cheery and he kept turned away, angling his head oddly, and yeah, okay, they weren’t going to get out of one set of lies by diving into a new one. Exhausted as he was, it didn’t take much to sidestep into a shortcut and come out in front of his brother, catching sight of him before he could spin away.

“what the fuck!” Rus gasped. He grabbed Blue by the shoulders, ignoring his feeble resistance as he forced him to turn around. There was a darkened bruise running down the side of his brother’s face like the shadow of a bluejay’s wing, from his eye socket nearly to his chin.

“what happened?” Rus demanded. The unpleasant thought came that while he was fooling around in Edge’s bed, his brother was out here alone, no, not alone, someone hurt him, and the list of suspects was vanishingly short. “it was him wasn’t it, he-“ Rus broke off, too furious to speak. He was going to kill Red, he didn’t know how, but somehow he was going to dust that low-rent Scarface bastard for daring to hurt his brother.

“No!” Blue shook his head frantically. “It wasn’t him, I swear, I promise, it was…” Blue sighed, tiredly. “I did something stupid. It seems to be an ongoing trend these past few days. Please, little brother, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Dirty pool, that, tacking the ‘little’ onto brother.

“okay,” Rus agreed, slowly. “but we’re talking about everything tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Blue hurried over to gather up Rus’s pajamas, practically thrusting them into his arms. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

Blue was trying to sound reasonable and it mostly worked. The endless flood of exhaustion was rising up over the sandbags and Rus was ready to get some sleep.

He went to the bathroom to wash up, trying to ignore the way his pants still felt uncomfortably damp at the crotch, a match to the tearstained front of his shirt. But it was an absent glance in the bathroom mirror that had him blushing up to his browbone.

Unbeknownst to him, he had a new bruise of his own, vivid against the pale bone of his jaw. It couldn’t be called anything but a hickey and there wasn’t a single chance Blue missed seeing it.

He’d seen it and hadn’t asked, not a single question about that or Rus’s sudden change of clothes and his obviously borrowed shirt.

Looked like neither of them were talking about their fresh bruises, not that that was anything new. Not talking about things seemed to be their current state of being; shouting, yes, avoiding, got it, but no talking, not really. Tomorrow was going to change that, Rus decided firmly, for better or worse.

Rus sighed and stepped into the shower, washing away the long day with hot water and heavenly scented soap. This place might smell like a choir of angels, he thought sourly, but the sulfur was sure starting to creep in.

~~*~~

tbc

[bunnyramen]

I just would like to give a big Happy Birthday to @kalofi , shes officially an old woman we shall plan accordingly on which nursing home you have to go to.

All jokes aside, it’s a been good year as your friend and uh. I hope you like this! Happy birthday!!💕💕

——-

A figure rose up out of a bed that wasn’t his own.

Josuke didn’t sleep on a bed covered in a queen bed spread, his was Prince and the under sheet was purple.

“What the hell?” That wasn’t his voice either, it was a bit lighter than his own but still had a sort of gruffness to it.

He looked at his hands and noticed they were smaller than his longer piano fingers, and covered a bit more scars than his own.

Josuke looked around the room with eyes that also weren’t his own, well eye since one seemed to be blind.

There were some Bruce Lee, Prince, Queen, Elton John and Selena posters hung around the room.

And despite the gaudy curtain and muscle clock, whoever this was had some taste.

He pulled the covers off of someone and someones feet touched soft carpet, rising out of someone’s bed.

God, was this what it was like to not be 6 feet tall? Small like Koichi?

He touched at the hair framing his face, some of it white and some of it a bright red.

And he ran a tongue over the teeth in his mouth.

They were razor sharp!

“What the fuck?!” A voice screamed and the wall next to him was punched, telling him to shut up.

He didn’t recognize the voice.

Ok, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

Speaking of attack, was this the work of a stand?

Where was the bastard? He had to neutralize him before he did some serious damage to Morioh!

But he couldn’t go anywhere in pajamas that weren’t his.

He went over to where presumed the clothes were, the dresser that had a boom box and plenty of boxes of tapes next to it.

He opened the first drawer and grabbed a white t-shirt with green accents.

He looked up on the wall and saw a picture on the wall, one of the kids in it was presumably the body he was inhabiting, judging by the hair and teeth.

Next to him was a angry blonde kid, who kind of looked like he got hit in the face with a hot shovel by his standards.

Maybe it was just the really ugly face he was making.

Luckily they were wearing school outfits, so he was able to figure out what he was supposed to normally wear.

A pair of green pants came onto his body next, a belt then a pair of purple socks.

He looked near the small closet in the room, seeing a pair of red Velcro shoes in front of them.

He figured it was time to brush his teeth and wash his face, and see what the hair situation was like,

He saw a large jar of hair gel sitting on the desk next to the bed and he grabbed it.

“Thank god, I didn’t wanna walk around with this hair all day.” His-er the kids inner voice said.

This was going to be weird since not only was his mom not here but there seemed to be more than one person on this floor.

Was he in a apartment or something?

Or some kind of dorm?

While he was thinking, he located the placement of a face towel and pulled a toothbrush from the boxes and boxes of toothbrushes in the kid’s closet.

He opened the door, peeking out into the hallway and seeing an empty get colorful looking ceiling and flooring.

He closed the door behind himself, thankful that he could be on his own while his mind was racing about where the fuck he was and who the fuck he was.

He went down the hall and got to an elevator.

“Must be some rich kid school or something.” He pushed the button for the second to last floor, figuring that was where the bathroom was.

Hopefully.

——

After asking another person than the original 2 he asked (that seemed to wanna chit chat), he finally located the bathroom.

He got in front of a mirror and finally got to see what the hell was he was working with.

He had to admit, the guy he was pretty handsome, at least he wasn’t stuck in someone ugly.

Like that Guy with that surface stand.

Or that little purple dude that he came across that kept chatting up with the girls in a gross way, he socked him one good with some kind of rock hand on his way here.

And it was weird since Crazy Diamond didn’t show up to punch the fucker for him.

Anyways, he did his hair in his usual pompadour, pretty much a second nature that it he got it done in less than 3 minutes.

While he waited for it to dry, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, having to periodically spit out bristles since they kept coming out when he gave these teeth a full cleaning.

He walked out of the bathroom but held the door open for some kid with a lightning bolt in his head since he was coming while he was trying to walk out.

“Woah! Trying a new look, Kirishima?” A pink girl with black eyes asked and he’d almost mistaken her for some kind of alien stand user but he didn’t sense anything from her.

“Uh haha, yeah! I’ll catch you later, Pink girl.” He laughed awkwardly, patting her on the back before he started to walk away.

He seems to be walking through a dining room, judging by the multiple people eating cereal.

God, he really missed his mom right now. He wondered what the other kid was like towards her. He hoped he got switched with someone nice.

“Your hair looks even more shitty than usual.” A low voice said from the end of the table he was walking past.

He looked to see the kid in the picture, hot shovel face.

“The fuck did you say about my hair?” A fire lit in his gut but it was pure hot red anger from himself , instead of the anger from him and his stand combined.

Bakugo took that as him not hearing what he said, so he said it again.

And that really set in stone was this body was about to do to him.

He punch him directly in the face, knocking over the cereal that was balancing in his spoon and ignored the gasps of the bystanders.

He would’ve went back for another but he was being pulled away by this really tall dorky guy.

He admitted to himself that the guy was pretty handsome.

“Eijirou, what has gotten into you?!” He pulled him away further as the blonde stood up with anger written all over his face.

“No one insults the hair of the man that saved me! No fucking one!” He tried pulling away from the nerdy dude but boy was he strong.

The lighting bold guy seemed to have to hold the other dude back from trying to let off some kind of explosion near him.

“Who saves you?” Mina looked confused.

“Look, My name is Josuke and that hot shovel faced asshole insulted the hair of the person that saved my life!”

“Josuke? Wait hold on, you’re saying your not Kirishima Eijirou.”

“No! I got switched with him by some kind of stand user or something! Now let me go so I can pummel him!”

“A stand?” Mina looked at him weirdly.

“Fuck.” He was hoping this “Kirishima” kid wasn’t doing anything weird with his body or messing up anything.

——

“So this is what it’s like to be tall!” Kirishima ran down the stairs of a house he didn’t at all recognize and was greeted by a rather tall purple haired woman when he reached the kitchen he presumed.

Maybe tallness ran in the family.

“Hello, Ma’am.” He waved at her nervously, not sure of who the woman was or who’s body he was in.

The lady picked up a knife, holding it towards Kirishima threateningly, the boy backing away.

“Who are you and where is my baby?” She said darkly, the knife glinting in the light.

“Huh?”

“Josuke never calls me ma’am. And he never comes down those stairs with his hair undone unless it’s a weekend.” The knife was getting dangerously close to his neck.

“I’m sorry but I’m not your son. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, and I’ve switched bodies with him, I think? I don’t what’s going on or who you are.” Either this Josuke kid could sweat a lot, or his sweat glands got transferred to this body.

“Switched? But where’s my baby?” She wasn’t holding the knife to his neck anymore but she still looked prepared to slice and dice him.

“I think he’s in my body. This could be the work of a quirk user or something, I’m not too sure.”

The lady fainted suddenly, the knife coming out of her hand and clattering to her floor.

“Oh fuck!” He was about to approach her to try and see if she was ok but a new figure bursted in, the door being unlocked by an outside force, probably a key.

“Josuke?” The new comer asked, his eyes shiny as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hey man, it’s not what it looks like! She fainted, and I don’t know what’s going on!” God, was everyone the type to fight first and ask questions later here?

The guy came over in a few strides and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, the motion alerting this really big pink guy that smelled oddly like strawberries.

“Crazy D, you know who this guy is?” The guy was really strong or something since he just shook him like a limp rag doll.

‘Crazy D’ looked at him with a weird glare, and the guy shook his head, shrugging with a confused “Dora.”

“What is that?” He pointed behind the guy, The Hand having been summoned at the mention of Crazy D.

“You’d know that if you were Josuke, and so since I don’t wanna cave my own boyfriends face in without giving whoever you are a chance, you got five seconds.” The guy robot he summoned looked ready to slice him in half too.

Normally, Kirishima would fight back but since he had no idea who he was, where he was, or what he was working with in terms of fighting back, he decided to bitch out just this once.

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou, I go to U.A, Im from Musustafa, I’m 16 years old, and my quirk is Hardening!” He flinched away when he felt that his explanation wasn’t good enough, but the punch didn’t come.

The guy let go of his collar.

“Alright, a stand user trying to actively kill us wouldn’t give himself away like that but I swear to god if you try anything funny, you’ll be having a talk with the hand.” The boy glared at him, making sure that hand thing was on stand by.

While the guy helped Tomoko onto the couch, Kirishima went to the nearest phone and dialed the number in.

There were a couple rings before he heard an energetic ‘Present Mic speaking!”

“Daddi-o!”

“Eijirou?”

“Yes!”

“Thank goodness! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m in this Josuke kid’s house and I have like no idea where I am!”

“You’re in Morioh.” The guy said from the couch, where he was helping Tomoko wake up.

“This guy said I’m in Morioh!”

“My names Okoyasu.”

“I’m with Okoyasu. Luckily, he let me speak before he tried icing me out.”

“At least we’re know you’re safe! The kid in your body, his name is Josuke and he’s actually a pretty nice kid when he stopped trying kill Bakugou. Something about his hair, it’s actually pretty cool, you should see it-”

There was a struggle over the phone and a brief ‘hey!’ Before he recognized his dad’s tired voice being put on the phone.

“We captured the villain. Luckily it wasn’t what this Josuke kid calls a ‘stand user’ otherwise it’d be up to you and you’re not able to control his stand.”

“Thank goodness. Dad, How soon can I get my body back?”

“Well, actually the quirk only lasts for a few hours and it should end right about now. Brace yourself.”

Kirishima dropped the phone from his hand and blacked out, he doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

“Hey, Kirishima!” He felt someone patting his cheek, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

He blinked his eyes, a blurry vision of pink and yellow coming into view.

“If your really Kirishima finish this phrase.” Sero said from above him, he could presume he was probably on the ground right now.

“Precisely.“ Kaminari started, Kirishima’s eyes lighting up.

“Damn, I’m late for school!” He sat up, actually seeing that the arms he was fist pumping were his and the friends he was looking at were his.

“Woah, hold the phone!” He looked up at his forehead and saw something blocking his view. “What is this?” Kirishima grabbed his pocket mirror, because he’s he owned a pocket mirror for just such occasions of keeping his spikes in order.

But it wasn’t spikes.

It was a pompadour.

“Yo Daddi-o, can I borrow your phone?” Kirishima asked Present Mic after his friends helped him off the floor and into a chair.

He called the last number, and it rung for a second before a voice he recognized answered the phone.

“Tomoko speaking?”

“Hello Mrs. Tomoko, I’m the kid your son switched bodies with. Sorry for the uh..trouble.” The redhead coughed.

“No trouble at all, as long as I have my son back in his rightful place and you back in yours. Would you like to talk to him? He says he’d very much like to talk to you.”

Kirishima heard Josuke whine to his mom to stop embarrassing him.

“Hello?”

——-

[purplesurveys]

1197

survey by ohsh1t2wksl8

Layers

Layer 1: The Basics

Name: Since there’ve been several people who’ve followed me recently anyway, HI I’m Robyn.

Age: 23.

Birthday: April 21st.

Gender: Female.

Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

Layer 2: Your Family

Do you have any brothers or sisters? Yes, I have one of each.

Do you have any pets? Yup, two dogs.

Do you still live with your parents? I do. I’m not in a rush.

Do you have any stepparents? Nope.

How many cousins do you have? 11 first cousins. Throwing my second cousins into the mix would dramatically increase the number and I don’t feel like counting rn.

Layer 3: Your Friends

Who is your best friend? Angela and Andi.

Who have you been friends with the longest? Angela and I have been friends for 16 years and it’s stronger as ever these days because of our mutual love for BTS hehe.

What do you like to do with your friends? It really depends! There’s no one thing I like doing most with any of them; as long as I’m with them I’d consider it time well spent.

Do you have more friends online or in real life? Real life. It’s hard to form friendships online once nearly everyone starts becoming younger than you.

What is a good way to make friends with others? One thing I learned is that you have to be okay to initiate, and that’s not really something I like doing all the time.

Layer 4: Your Home

Do you live in a home, apartment, duplex, trailer, etc? I live in a house.

How many rooms are there in your house? There are 4 bedrooms and 5 other kinds of rooms – that’s 2 bathrooms, the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

Is your home large or small? I’d say it’s medium-sized. It’s not small that I feel cramped or inadequate, but it’s also nowhere near a mansion. It’s very comfortable for a family of 5.

What is your favorite room in your house, and why? Rooftop. My family barely goes there (and what a shame they don’t), so it’s a nice place to go to when I want to be alone but can’t get out of the house. Not to mention that it’s open-air and windy there, so whenever I feel as if I’m getting cooked inside I can always depend on the rooftop.

Do you prefer having people over to your house, or would you rather go to theirs? I’d rather go to theirs. Our house is really deep into the village and is a challenge to get to, especially if you’re unfamiliar with the general area.

Layer 5: Can You

Can you fold your tongue into the taco shape? Yes, but that’s the furthest it can go. I can’t really bend or twist it into shapes more complex than that.

Can you touch your toes without bending your knees? Nah, I lost that ability years ago. I didn’t make the most out of my flexibility back when I still had it.

Can you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue? I never tried.

Can you hold up your end of a physical fight? I bet I can’t.

Can you do any yo-yo tricks? No, I was always terrible at the yo-yo.

Layer 6: Who

Who inspires you the most, and why? I don’t have any ~inspirations. I do like looking up to whoever my current obsession is – be it Rhett and Link, Paramore, BTS, etc. – to help me be happy and have something to smile at, but I try not to let any of them govern every single aspect of my life.

Who helps you maintain your sanity? My best friends. And these days, surprise surprise! – BTS.

Who do you go to most often for advice? Depends on the topic; I always run to either of my best friends. If I need a collective opinion, I go to my college friend group’s group chat.

Who knows you better than you know yourself? At one point it had been Gabie, but *shrug* Nowadays, the person who knows me best would probably be Andi.

Who is someone that you would die or put your life on the line for, no questions asked? Any of my friends.

Layer 7: Do you

Do you still eat sandwiches without the crusts? Nah - I’ve grown to be a fan of the crusts. I used to make my grandma slice them off as a kid or else I wouldn’t even think of touching the sandwich; then something changed as I got older and now I absolutely have to have the crust. At home, I even call dibs on the first and last pieces of bread (the ones that are all crust) whenever we get a new pack of sliced bread.

Do you typically finish your meal at a restaurant, or need to take a container home? I usually ask for it to be packed up for takeout.

Do you pull an Oreo apart in order to eat it? No, I just bite into it.

Do you read a lot of gossip magazines? As a kid/teenager. I’m over that now.

Do you make friends easily? I’m not the biggest social butterfly, but I’m also not super closed off. I’ll be happy to talk to anyone who approaches me.

Layer 8: How Many?

How many people live in your house with you? Four.

How many pets have you had in your lifetime? In my lifetime...I guess a good rough estimate would be somewhere around 10? I’ll never know exactly how many we’ve had since I never kept track of how many goldfish we kept.

How many tries does it take you to become successful at something? Depends. I never learned how to ride a bike even if I’ve pushed myself to practice ever since I was 5, but there are other things I’m able to pick up easily.

How many meals do you eat a day? One, dinner.

How many people can you honestly tolerate? This isn’t really an issue to me haha, I like being around people and my patience around them is usually long.

Layer 9: How

How do you typically get to school or work? I work from home at the moment and probably would for a little while longer; but if things were different, I would be driving myself.

How do you deal with a breakup? When I was going through mine, I was stupidly stubborn at first and refused any form of help. I deactivated all my social media and shut both my best friends out; it even got to a point where mutual friends were beginning to ask Andi where I’ve been as I’ve “disappeared off the face of the Earth” (an actual quote they relayed to me). I cried day in and day out, cried during my shifts, stayed holed up in my room; and I skipped hundreds of meals, sometimes not eating all day. It wasn’t a good place to be in.

But I knew I was on the right path to recovering the moment I reached out to friends again and acknowledged that I needed help. I started to help myself, too; I cut the person off slowly, and I started to look for new things to get into, new hobbies to invest in. I let my friends give me tough love and show me the reality of my situation, and I listened this time around. I don’t know what drove me to make a sudden change in my life but I’m really glad I came around to the decision, because I’m happier than ever these days.

How do you like to help others? All sorts of ways. I always want to make others’ lives a little easier.

How do you know when you’ve found “the one”? I don’t trust that instinct anymore.

How do you sleep in bed? On my side, clutching a pillow. No pillow to hug, no sleep.

Layer 10: What

What do you think happens when we die? That I just fall asleep for a very long time.

What do you do if there’s no toilet paper left on the roll and you’re already peeing? Turn around and hope there is at least a bidet in the stall.

What do you eat most often? Rice.

What toys did you enjoy most as a child? Anything with a lot of buttons or features to play around with, like detailed dollhouses.

What do you do if you witness someone being awful to someone else? Intervene, for the most part.

Layer 11: Where

Where is your favorite place to eat out? BGC has great ambience and restaurant choices, but it’s been a while since I’ve been there. I also still feel weird about the place since Gabie and I had dates there pretty often, sooooo I really ought to make new memories there with new people once I can.

Where is the place that has the best ice cream in your area? We don’t really have places known for ice cream...most people just buy pints or tubs of them at the grocery lol.

Where did you meet your current or last significant other? School.

Where can you be found at 7 PM. typically? Wrapping up work in my room.

Where can you find the best French fries? Potato Corner.

Layer 12: When

When did you find out the truth about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy? Never believed in the first two. Tooth Fairy I lost hope in when I placed a tooth under my pillow when I was around 6 or 7 and woke up to nothing.

When do you typically fall asleep? Early hours of the morning tbh. I’d sleep anywhere between 1-4 AM these days.

When was the last time that someone paid you a compliment? Kata and I often make sure to compliment one another for our hard work by the end of particularly grueling shifts.

When do you feel most comfortable? Friday nights when I’m sure I can finally close my work group chats for the next two days.

When did you last go to the bathroom? Around an hour or so ago.

Layer 13: Why

Why do you enjoy taking surveys so much? It’s a stress reliever that has never failed me, and it lets me answers quirky random questions no one would ever have to ask me.

Why do people gossip so much? For one, probably the thrill of knowing something that's meant to be a thing.

Why can’t humans fly? It wouldn’t have been a necessity, I’m guessing.

Why aren’t you doing something else right now? Because I just spent the last 24 hours streaming Butter on Spotify and YouTube to raise views and plays for the boys, and taking this survey is actually the first thing I’ve done all day after taking a quick nap this afternoon to recover from all the streaming I did hahaha.

Why is the sky blue? I don’t know.

Layer 14: If…

If you had a million dollars, what would you spend it on? Buy chocolate chips because I’m craving them rn; get all BTS merch in one go; give a chunk to my parents; keep the rest.

If you found out someone was cheating on you, would you ever take them back? I don’t really have consistency when it comes to this situation. I know I definitely would’ve been stupid enough to stay with Gab if she hypothetically cheated on me while we were still together; I’m not sure if I’d stay when it comes to another person entirely.

If you found a wallet with cash in the street, including identification, would you turn it in? Why or why not? Yeah, I’d look for the owner. I’m not that desperate for money, personally.

If you could have any food right now, what would you like?   SUSHI.

If you found out that the world was going to end tomorrow, how would you spend your last day? Go to the mall and get some much-needed air, then probably drop off some japchae and tteokbokki at Angela’s place.

Layer 15: Firsts

When did you lose your first tooth? I was in Prep and it actually fell out while I was in school. We were having storytime and I had to interrupt the session to tell my teacher it was starting to feel loose, so she got me some tissues to help me get it out.

Who was your first teacher that you ever had? Her name was Kathy. I don’t really have any substantial memories of her because I was 4 lmao, but I know she was nice.

When did you first learn how to ride a bike? ...Still learning...

When was the first time you had sex? Like a day or two after turning 18.

Did your first birthday have a theme to it? Not necessarily but my parents threw me a party at Jollibee, so it kinda had to be Jollibee-themed lol.

Layer 16: Lasts

Last person you texted: I don’t feel like checking because it was most definitely a work-related text and I don’t want to be reminded of work on a Sunday, but it was a media person. 

Last drink you sipped: The last of my coffee.

Last time you rode a bike: Like, March last year when the pandemic had still been fresh and I thought I could use all the free time to finally learn how to ride a bike. Absolute clownery.

Last time you swam in a pool: August 2019.

Last person you hugged: Not sure. Angela, I think.

Layer 17: Favorites

Favorite Color: I think pastel pink is still taking the lead for me.

Favorite Season: We don’t have the usual four seasons, but I do have a liking for winter. It just seems very cozy for me.

Favorite Shape: I don’t have one.

Favorite Letter: Mmmmm, don’t really have one of these either.

Favorite Number: 4 or 7.

Layer 18: This or That

Pepsi or Coke? I don’t drink softdrinks.

Movies or Television? Movies, but I haven’t really been watching much of either recently.

Phone or Tablet? Phone. Haven’t used a tablet in yearrrrrsssssss.

Fruits or Vegetables? Veggies. Hate fruits.

Animals or Humans? I think I like both an equal amount.

Layer 19: Which

Which Poke’mon is your favorite? Chikorita.

Which day of the week is your favorite? Friday, because of course.

Which birthday celebration was the most memorable for you? My 18th, even though out of all the friends I celebrated my birthday with I only have one of them left in my life. I know I was happy during that time so I wouldn’t invalidate that experience for myself.

Which holiday is your favorite? Christmas, only for the sheer amount of food I get to have.

Which shoe do you put on first? I always switch it up, I’m pretty sure. I don’t have a particular habit.

Layer 20: Love Life/Relationships

What is the name of your first love? Gabie.

How many times can you honestly say you’ve been in love? Once.

Have you ever been in a relationship before that was abusive in any way? After being able to take a step back and analyzing it deeper, yes.

Have you ever been engaged or married before? Nope.

Do you have any children? I don’t.

Layer 21: Jobs, Dreams, & Goals

What did you want to be when you grew up (as a little kid)? I couldn’t decide among being an astronaut, firefighter, or veterinarian.

What do you aspire to be now? What interests you? I realized I wanted to be in the field of media and public relations, and that’s where I am now. I like being able to use my writing skills for something I find fun and fulfilling, instead of rotting away in a newsroom writing news I’m usually too sensitive for.

What is the most recent goal you’ve achieved? I got regularized! :)

What is a goal you are still striving to reach? A salary increase would be nice, and then a promotion down the road would also be awesome.

Have you ever won any sort of awards before? If so, for what? Sure. I was consistently on the honor roll in college and graduated with Latin honors, if those count as awards.

Layer 22: Opinions & Beliefs

Pro-life or pro-choice? Pro-choice.

Were you raised with any sort of religious background? If so, then what? Yesss, I was and am raised in a Catholic household. Weirdly enough my parents have grown more laidback in the last few years and my mom no longer berates us for not doing the sign of the cross when we pray before eating (my siblings have taken after me and refuse to do it as well). No idea what sparked that change but I’m just glad I never have to do gestures like that one anymore.

Democrat, Republican, or Independent? We don’t have the same parties here.

For or against the death penalty? This is a very complicated web and for reasons largely relevant to my country and the issues we have, I am mostly against it.

Thoughts on assisted suicide? I am ok with it as long as there is consent involved. 

Layer 23: Currently/Today/Present

What day is it? It’s Sunday again, blegh.

What’s the weather like outside? Sunny.

What have you eaten? Just a Fudgee Bar so far but I’m having breakfast with my family in an hour or so.

Did you run any errands? Well it’s only 8:37 AM so not yet, but one or two might come up throughout the day.

What time is it? 8:38 now.

Layer 24: Yesterday

Did you have a work shift? No, I don’t work Saturdays.

Did you eat out anywhere? No :( I’ve wanted to for a while, though. Maybe I might today, actually – they’ve loosened up quarantine protocols so restaurants have opened up again. Let’s see if I’ll feel like driving today.

Was it snowing? It doesn’t snow here.

Who did you last say goodnight to? Cooper.

Did anything unusual happen? It rained and there was cold breeze during the evening.

Layer 25: Tomorrow

Do you have to go to school/class? No, but I do have to go to work.

Does this day have any sort of significance to you? May 24...I don’t think so. Nothing comes to mind.

What is a chore that needs to get done? My veeeeeeery long list of to-do tasks that I’m trying not to think about rn.

Will you hang out with friends? No chance of that happening.

What time will you be expected to be awake by? 9 AM.

Layer 26: Have You Ever

Performed a magic trick successfully? I don’t think so.

Sat or laid on a rooftop and looked at the stars? I’m at the rooftop all the time but I only occasionally lie down to look at the stars.

Walked around with your underwear on inside out or backwards all day without realizing it? Nope.

Touched a snake? Yep. I’ve had one wrapped around me before, too.

Been bitten by an animal? If so, what animal? Just by ants and mosquitoes.

Layer 27: School Life

Are preschool and kindergarten mandatory where you live? Not sure about mandatory but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of people who went straight to first grade as kids, either because of advanced intelligence or financial limitations.

Were you or anyone you knew homeschooled? I have one set of cousins who are all homeschooled; and I also used to have classmates who eventually transferred out of my school to be homeschooled instead.

Did you attend public or private school? Private.

Were you bullied in school, popular, or somewhere in-between? I was a loner for the most part, but after befriending the popular groups in high school I kind of got dragged into that scene as well.

What is the highest level of education that you completed? Undergraduate degree.

Layer 28: Your Appearance

Eye Color: Dark brown/black.

Hair Color: Black.

Height: 5′1″.

Weight: A little under 100 lbs.

Do you have freckles, moles, beauty marks, or birthmarks - and where? I have moles on my right arm, under my jaw, near my left knee, and under my left boob. I have a birthmark behind my left shoulder.

Layer 29: Electronics, Internet, & Social Media

How much time do you spend on the internet per day? Hahahah yeesh, way to put me on the spot. I wanna say anywhere between 16-18 hours? I’m online the second I wake up until the moment I turn in for bed.

Which social media platforms do you belong to? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr.

When’s the last time you replaced the batteries in your television remote? 4975493875495743 years ago.

Are you more likely to stream movies and shows on your laptop, or cast them to your television? Laptop.

Do you have an e-reader, or do you prefer actual books? I don’t read regularly anymore, but I’ve never liked reading from a screen. I prefer a physical book as much as possible.

Layer 30: Are You

Are you still in school? No. I’m not opposed to grad school either, but it has to be a REALLY REALLY REALLY fucking great opportunity for me to sink my teeth into it. We’re talking getting accepted to grad school in like Spain or NYU; otherwise I wouldn’t take it.

Are you a member of the LGBTQ+ community? Yes.

Are you looking forward to anything coming soon? Festa month!

Are you dreading anything coming soon? Work tomorrow.

Are you gullible or naive? I can be both.

Layer 31: Does

Does your workplace make you feel like you can never take a day off without feeling guilty about it? Not at all. I’m really grateful they take vacation leaves seriously; we even have a Mental Health Break Day scheduled two Fridays from now. Purely a company thing.

Does someone currently hold the key to your heart? Kim Taehyung... :/

Does anyone out there hate you? Idk and I couldn’t give less of a shit if anyone does.

Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? No.

Does crying make you feel less strong? Nope. It took me a while to realize it, but acknowledging feelings and processing them is actually one of the strongest things you can do for yourself. 

Layer 32: Would You

Do the Polar Bear Plunge? Idk what that is.

Ever try to walk across a room blindfolded? I’ve done it before, so sure.

Swim with sharks? As long as I’m surrounded with experts, yes.

Go into outer space, given the chance? In a heartbeat.

Go out in public, looking how you do right now? Nope.

Layer 33: Pets/Animals

Do you have any pets? If so, what type, and their names… Yesss. There’s Kimi who’s an aspin, and Cooper the beagle.

If not, what type of pet have you always wanted?

What is your favorite animal? Dogs and elephants :)

Do you think it is cruel to have circus animals? Yes, or having animals do tricks for show, in general. I always discourage my parents from booking tickets to animal theme parks when we plan vacations.

How often do you walk your dog, if you have one? How often do you scoop the litterbox, if you have a cat? Every week.

Layer 34: Food

What is your favorite breakfast item? Fried rice.

What is your favorite kind of dessert? Macarons and cheescake.

Do you eat all three meals everyday? Nah. I have one meal on weekdays, and two meals on some weekends.

What’s the longest you’ve gone without food? Around 24 hours.

What do you like to eat when you are feeling sick? Greasy things haha. If I’m feeling like death, might as well be having good food.

Layer 35: Past

Does your past ever come back to haunt you at times? Not really.

What is one of your favorite memories of the past? Spending my college years with the right people.

What is something that you used to do in the past, but no longer do? Harm myself.

If you could have a meal with someone from the past, who would it be, and what would you ask them? Audrey Hepburn, but I don’t really have a question for her. It would just be nice to get to spend a few minutes with her.

Which historical time period would you like to go back to and check out? Precolonial Philippines.

Layer 36: Future

Do you think you will ever get married one day? It’s definitely a lovely scenario to have but I’m really unsure about it at the moment just because there’s no one I have in mind and I have no plans to start dating around again soon.

Do you plan on ever getting a different job in the future, or are you happy with the one you’ve got? I’m happy with the one I have and I don’t see it changing any time soon.

What age do you plan to retire at? Or do you plan on working til you’re dead? Probably the latter haha.

What is something on your bucket list worth mentioning? Going to Wrestlemania.

If given the opportunity to see how your future plays out, would you take it, or no? Yes.

Layer 37: Hygiene

How often do you shower? Once daily. Twice if it’s stupidly hot during the day.

How often do you brush your teeth? Once or twice a day.

Do you actually iron any of your clothes? Mm, not really. But if I was planning on wear something that gets easily crumpled, I iron that in advance.

How often do you do laundry? I’m not in charge of laundry.

How long do you use a bath towel before switching it out? Around 1–2 weeks.

Layer 38: Clothing, Makeup, & Style

Do you wear nail polish? If so, how often do you paint your nails? Nah.

How would your describe your sense of style? I like sticking with trends as long as I feel comfortable in them.

Are there any popular trends that you do not find appealing? Just makeup in general.

Where do you typically buy your clothing from? Local small businesses or H&M. 

What sorts of accessories do you wear/use? I don’t really invest in them, but I wanna start buying more headbands, bucket hats, and earrings.

Layer 39: Hobbies

Do you still color, even as an adult? Occasionally.

Do you/would you like to crochet, knit, cross-stitch, etc? Yeaaah I do embroidery but I’ve stopped for a while since finding other interests and hobbies to dabble in. I have no plans to ditch it completely though; I’ll come back to it when the time is right.

What’s the last thing you crafted all by yourself? Not sure.

Do you use Pinterest at all? Nope.

What’s the last thing that you cooked or baked? Lol.

Layer 40: Dislikes

List some of your pet peeves here. Driving slowly on lanes intended for overtaking; taking too much of my food; being subtle about asking for favors.

What are some things that annoy you about yourself? Easily punishing myself for mistakes, no matter how small; I also find that putting others first before myself 100% of the time can sometimes end up being an inconvenience for myself.

Is there anyone out there who you actually hate? Who? Nope.

What is a feeling that you dislike? “I should have done/said this.” Not sure what feeling this falls under (maybe helplessness?), but having these thoughts irritate me to no end especially if I can’t do anything about the situation.

Do you get some ugly road rage while driving? Yep.

Layer 41: Random

Have you ever successfully pogo’ed on a pogo stick? Nah, I’ve never even seen one in real life. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been dying to try getting on one lol. 

Have you ever mastered the jump rope? I wouldn’t say I’m a master, but I can do the basic jumps and last a long time doing them.

Do you know what it feels like to be truly happy? I don’t know if I’ve determined this already; I have a lot of years ahead of me and lots of experiences I’ve yet to go through.

Is it winter in your part of the world right now? No.

What’s your favorite type of survey, and why? Random ones or ones with categories, like this one.

Layer 42: Music

What are some of your favorite genres of music? Alternative, folk indie, punk rock, R&B...and BTS.

What are some music genres that you can’t stand? Country, screamo, techno.

If you had a blank pair of concert tickets, who would you hope to be going to see? Any one of my holy trinity: Paramore, Beyoncé, or BTS.

Do you still listen to music on the radio from time to time? Not anymore, come to think of it. I’m completely unaware of the Top 40 space right now, and have been for a while.

iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, or YouTube? Spotify.

Layer 43: Books

What were some of your favorite books as a child? The Septimus Heap series and the Percy Jackson series.

What genre of books do you typically read most often? Memoirs.

What are some of your favorite books as an adult? I don’t read anymore.

What is a book that you were required to read for school that you actually enjoyed? Hands down, Without Seeing the Dawn. I remember fairly enjoying Charlotte’s Web and Number the Stars as well.

Do you read any newspapers or magazines anymore? No.

Layer 43: Around the World

Where’s the best place you’ve taken a vacation and/or day trip to? Jeju, South Korea; Bali, Indonesia; Palawan; Batanes; and Boracay.

Where is somewhere that you’d like to go someday, assuming you have the funds to do so? Seoul, South Korea.

Where do your family members originate from? Just Philippines.

What is your favorite type of ethnic cuisine? All Asian cuisines. Each of them is so unique and always has something new to discover.

What is something that is typically representative of your own culture? Jollibee? Hahaha.

Layer 44: Would you Rather…

Drink apple juice or grape juice? Apple.

Wear pants or shorts? Shorts, as much as possible.

Be taller or shorter? Taller.

Go to a zoo or an aquarium? Neither if possible.

Visit an art gallery or a museum? Museum.

Layer 45: Movies

Do you remember what the first movie was that you saw in theaters? Stuart Little 2 when I was 4.

What are some of your favorite movies you’ve seen? Two for the Road, Gone with the Wind, Roman Holiday, Revolutionary Road, Toy Story, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Room.

What genre of movie do you typically enjoy? Drama.

What is a movie you’ve seen that you weren’t expecting to like, but were pleasantly surprised? Requiem For A Dream, but maybe remove ‘pleasantly.’ Anomalisa is also a good answer for this.

How many movies do you own? Are they all DVD’s, or do you still have some VHS ones left? I just watch them on Netflix, haha.

Layer 46: Personality

Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert? I’m really more of an ambivert than anything else. I can deal with alone time and more social days equally well.

Are you more easygoing and laid back, or anal? Again, I can be both depending on the situation.

Are you kind to everyone who shows that they deserve kindness? Yes.

Describe your sense of humor. I can laugh over anything from dad jokes to crackhead memes.

Do you tend to over-share? Not really. I tend to have a good sense of how much I should share depending on the person/group I’m with.

Layer 47: Celebrities

Which celebrity has given their child the most unique name, in your opinion? I mean, Elon Musk and Grimes have to be up there, right? The Kardashians have also given their kids unique names, but I actually am a fan of them all.

Are there any celebrities that you keep tabs on/read articles about often? Nah, I’m past that part of my life lol. As obsessed as I am with BTS and as unavoidable rumors about their personal life are, I literally don’t care and just want them to have happy private lives. That’s one of the reasons why I know I’m truly in my 20s now hahaha.

Who is/are your celebrity crush(es)? Kim Taehyung, Hayley Williams, Kristen Stewart.

Have you ever personally met someone famous before? If so, then who? A lot of local celebrities and personalities since it came with the nature of my course.

Who is a celebrity that you’re getting tired of hearing about all the time? Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift.

Layer 48: Emotions

When was the last time you cried? Earlier, but they were happy tears.

What are some things that you’re afraid of? Big change, injections, drowning, sharp objects.

What is something small that makes you happy? Cold weather.

Who is the last person that you were angry with, and about what? My mom wrongfully blaming me for something I had very little to do with. Both my siblings are very sensitive and are never scolded, so I usually take the heat even for things I’m barely involved in. Such is the life of the eldest daughter in an Asian household, lmao.

Are you typically a shy or outgoing person? I’m always shy at first, but end up being perky and outgoing once warmed up.

Layer 49: Digging Deeper

What is your favorite alcoholic beverage? Mixed drinks.

How old were you when you got drunk for the first time? 18.

Do you smoke? Very rarely. I don’t want to make it a habit.

Have you ever taken and sent naked pictures of yourself? I have.

Have you ever done any drugs other than marijuana? If so, which ones? No.

Layer 50: Games

What are some of your favorite video games? Mario Kart, Resident Evil, and Legend of Zelda are some of my favorite series.

Do you have any computer games that you play regularly? I don’t play computer games.

What was your favorite board game, growing up? Scrabble.

How about your favorite card game? I also don’t play card games.

How good are you at solving puzzles? (such as a Rubik’s cube, word puzzles, or putting together a jigsaw puzzle) I don’t like puzzles.

[goldenpoison]

new beginnings and starting over || chapter two

read it on Ao3 || prev. ~ next

Adrien messed up. That part was obvious. Why wouldn’t it be when he was dangling off of the Eiffel Tower. All because a goddamn akuma got way over themselves and thought they could seize all of the power or something like that. In the akuma’s mind, to do that, he had to threaten Ladybug by throwing newly returned Paris’ heartthrob off of a tower for everyone to watch, naturally. He really should’ve taken the car instead of walking.

He looks over to Ladybug across the opposite side of the tower. Confidence and wit was still oozing off of her. You can see it in her stance: her puffed up chest, her raised chin, and even in her slightly furrowed brows. Although, as time does to everything and everyone, it wasn’t the same Ladybug Adrien knew. Her outfit has changed, that was the most obvious part. It was more streamlined and mature. There were solid shapes of black at the sides of her hips that meets near bellow her belly and ends at the middle of her thighs, quite resembling a pair of shorts. Her hair wasn’t in those iconic pigtails anymore. It was in a low braid, and it was longer too. There were more changes in her, changes that are deeper and goes way beyond her physical appearance. Changes that he couldn’t quite point out, but he’s sure it’s there, hiding behind her fierce gaze.

But unfortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell on that. Not when the akuma’s starting to loosen his grip of his wrists. Any looser, and he’d fall and be squashed like a pancake. Though he was sure cats always land on their feet, with this high of a fall, he definitely did not want to test it. Even he did, he can’t. He was sure the moment he transformed, the people would fear him, even if he’ll don the black suit. Besides, it’ll most likely shock Ladybug and cause the rift between them to widen even more.

The wind blew the hair out of his face, yet the only thing he saw were blurs of color as he fell. His breakfast— if you could even call a single slice of toasted bread and latte that— rode up to his esophagus, his heart wanting to break out his ribcage, and his brain out of his skull. If he had thought he had a head-splitting headache when he woke up, now he’s sure one-hit Hephaestus himself did the honor of hitting it with an axe and proceeded to chop it up a couple more times and put it in a grinder for extra measure. He could barely hear the screams of someone as the wind becomes deafening to his ears. All he could do is think about all the regrets and mistakes in his life: siding with his father, spending his last weeks of being Chat as Chat Blanc, hurting her. His tears couldn’t even get past his eyes because he’d already cried too much of it.

The scream came from none other than Ladybug herself. Her eyes, on the contrary, are welling up with tears. After what seemed to be the final battle between them and Hawkmoth, and after he left, the akumas has lowered in frequency and in fatality. In the three years following, she never once encountered an akuma that seriously threatened a human’s life.

Naturally, it had made balancing her lives as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, fashion student, aspiring fashion designer, part-time baker, and as Ladybug, the coveted hero of Paris, much more easier. Unfortunately, because of the ease, having another person’s life in your hands has became heavier and made the pressure much bigger.

But she’s not going to let a single tear escape. Not when she still has something to say about it. In a quick flash, she used her lucky charm, a fish hook, to hook open the shield-looking front metal piece of the akuma’s suit which caused it to malfunction and reveal the black butterfly. Wrapping her yo-yo around the metal tentacles holding him up, sliding under, then wrapping them to the tower itself, she races down to try and catch Adrien, tripping the akuma while doing so. The moment her finger grazed his, then her hand grabbing his own, Ladybug’s tear mischievously slipped out. Slowly, she brings them down until Adrien’s feet touched the ground.

Adrien waited for his demise, but it never came. Instead of death’s empty ghoulish eyes, he was met with his own lifeline’s bluebell ones. Here he is once again after what felt like a century of waiting to see her and look her in the eyes once more. All the years of regret started coming back. All the sleepless nights he spent dwelling on the memories of golden roads not taken and the pain of hurting his Lady, and by extension his own soul. All of them enough to restart his once dried tear ducts. Before he could say anything, Ladybug flew up again and purified the akuma.

The seconds after she says the iconic “bye-bye little akuma” felt empty. What once was moments of relief and joy and life, was replaced with a few seconds void of any warm emotion. He should’ve been up there with her, bumping their fists and saying “pound it” after she uses her powers of creation to restore the damage made. Even when the cluster of ladybugs flew by him, he just felt lonely and not energized like before. Had she really lived three years of fighting akumas with this emptiness? If before he related fighting akumas to fencing, an enjoyable necessity, he’d say it’s more similar to doing a cleaning your room after a week now.

Ladybug finally set foot on the ground next to Adrien. She was a whole head and three more inches shorter than him, he noticed. As opposed to before when he can freely rest his chin on top of her head. Not that he did, but he could if Ladybug would allow it. It seems that he changed too.

“Are you okay?” she asked, worry and concern coating every inch of her voice.

“Yeah. Thanks to you,” he said. He shifted his weight on his right foot then his left then right again. “What about you, are you okay?”

Ladybug did not expect that. Out of all the years of doing what she does, she doesn’t think anyone has ever asked if she was okay after. The only person who ever did is gone from her life now. “Oh, um, I’m good, thanks.”

She pursed her lips and her eyes wandered to anywhere but the boy in front of her. Thankfully, she was saved by his phone’s notification sound. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he looked at it and turned his head to look until it settled on a black car with a rather large man standing in front of it

Looking to Ladybug again in hopes of remembering every feature of her face. He looks at her eyes that seemed to have darkened over time. He notices her more pronounced freckles. He notices that her cheekbones are the tiniest bit less round and a little bit more defined along with her jaw. Yet all these changes seemed to do is make Adrien’s heart beat faster.

He looks back at the car then back to her. “Looks like my ride is waiting for me. Thank you, really,” he said before basically speed walking to the car to escape her lingering gaze.

Adrien takes his remaining sweet time of five minutes to just think mindlessly. That is, until he heard a small “psst” coming from the pocket of his shearling-lined leather jacket. Without a single second to waste, Plagg came out of his hiding spot and did what he does best: tease him. “So, you finally get to see her again, huh?”

Adrien just gave him a look. The partition between the front seat and the back was rolled up anyways so Gorilla couldn’t really see what he was doing, but he told Plagg to quiet to his voice just in case.

“She’s so different now. More independent too, it seemed. She doesn’t need me anymore. Not that she ever did.” Adrien’s voice was hushed and turned into a whisper when he said the last part.

Seeing the deep frown on his face and his furrowed brows, Plagg didn’t exactly know what to say, so he just hugged Adrien in the way a small creature like him could. Adrien released a deep sigh and held Plagg in his hands, staying like that for the remainder of the car ride.

When they reached the doors of his former house, he really couldn’t call it a home anymore, Plagg took his place inside his jacket and Adrien tried his best to look as presentable as he could. He looked at his shoelaces, then remembering that he slipped on his black loafers that morning. He adjusted his jacket a couple more times, pulled it down, then the sleeves, then pulled the collar up delicately.

Walking towards the front doors and inside the house, he comes to agree to everyone else. Going back to a place you were once familiar with, no matter how big it was, it will feel so small to you. Unlike the girl in the red and black suit earlier, the mansion is still as cold as ever. Perhaps a tiny bit colder, if such a thing is possible.

Nathalie, his father’s assistant even after all these years, came up to him. “I heard what happened with the akuma earlier, are you alright?” Nathalie, although distant, still acted as sort of a mother to Adrien. She may not be the warmest person he knows, but she was still there to keep track on him and worry about him. It was Nathalie too who had held his crying body that one night years ago. It was her who supported his decision to end his time as Chat Blanc. Adrien was sure that if it wasn’t for Nathalie, Adrien would be completely cut off of his father’s will, finances, and maybe disowned at most.

“I’m alright, Nathalie. Didn’t even get a scratch,” he said and smiled at her. “It’s great to see you again.”

“You too Adrien. Now,” he could tell she’s switching gears to her extremely professional assistant mode with the way she straightens her back, raises her chin, moves her glasses higher, and looks down at her tablet. “Your father has been waiting for a few minutes now, and it’s best not to keep him waiting any longer.”

She opened the door to let him in. His father didn’t even bother for pleasantries. “I sent Gorilla to come get you this morning, and you refused, now look where you ended up.” Adrien wanted to retaliate and point out that it was his akuma but he held his tongue. He wanted to say to his face that the reason why he wanted to walk was so he could procrastinate on seeing him and talking to him.

“I wanted to enjoy the early morning breeze,” he replied, straight-faced. His father only glared at him with his steely grey eyes. The wrinkles around it hasn’t changed much, which is to be expected from an man who is known for having a permanent frown glued to his face.

“Tomorrow there will be a board meeting to further discuss the happenings of the nearing Paris Fashion Week and as the successor of this company you are expected to show. Be on your best behavior and listen. This will be your first official meeting. This will set the expectations of you and let the heads acquire a clear impression of you as a leader. During the nine days of fashion week, you’ll still walk the runway, do photoshoots, and be present as a fit model, with the addition of corporate tasks. At the very end of fashion week, there will be a masquerade ball held to raise money for orphanages. Nathalie will provide you with a flexible paradigm of your schedule. That will be all.”

All of those things he said without stuttering and without the expected welcoming tone from a father to his son. He said it like a stereotypical emotionless and unsympathetic boss talking to his employees, which in a way he is. Adrien doesn’t think that his father had even once mentioned his name while he was gone. Collecting his calm, Adrien did not utter a single word when inconspicuously storming out of the room.

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Sunsets

“Redemption, my Love” Chapter 7 is not up yet.... My apologies. Enjoy this oneshot instead!  Cursed Tv 2020 Cross posted to Ao3 here Lancewain Rated T for suggestive themes. FLUFF, so much Fluff and Flirting Modern College AU: Roommates ) my deepest apologies to anyone who read this pre proof read. I have edited it now. :) ) 

 Lancelot and Gawain have been roommates for almost four years. The problem is they both like one another and neither is able to admit it. Until one night, one very domestic night, the teasing and flirting comes to a head, and all because Lancelot took a nap in an unlikely location.  @lorenzoxfrancesco I hope this tides you over for a bit friend. :) Enjoy.  Inspired by this post. 

Gawain came home to the small apartment he shared with Lancelot. They had met in the first week of classes their freshman year and had shared several of their general courses since then,  until this semester. For the last three years they have shared their living space, study habits, eating habits, and everyday life. They had cohabited the same space, with minimal disturbances despite being strangers when they moved in together. Certainly, they fought on occasion but it was never about anything to major, well except that one time, but they had sorted it rather quickly. Neither truly capable of staying angry at the other. It had been over a boy. More specifically about the lack of notice regarding a boy coming home with Gawain on game night, for purposes other than games. 

Today Gawain is running a little bit later than normal. It isn’t a big deal, it is Lancelot’s night to cook, so if the man was hungry he would have cooked and left him some. Besides, not only had his last class gone long, but he had decided to pick up some of the groceries he knew they needed. Unlocking the door he steps into warm air and a dimly lit room. Toeing off his shoes he pads into the common space towards the kitchen, casually avoiding Lancelots work space and easel. The kitchen is empty, and the space does not smell of food. Lancelot had not cooked then. A quick glance at the stove clock tells him that it isn’t actually nearly as late as he believed it was. The winter weather was throwing off his internal clock again. It was just past sundown, and it felt much later than half past four in the evening. Setting the groceries on the counter he acknowledged none of them were perishable and could wait to be put away. 

The absence of Lancelot is acute and he decides to check his room. It is unusual, especially on his night to cook, for him to be absent. He leaves the small kitchen and heads down the hall towards the rooms, and notes that his door is slightly ajar. He can’t remember if he left it that way or not, but it doesn’t particularly matter, if Lancelot had needed something he would have had the freedom to retrieve it. It was something that they had spoken about when they created their boundaries initially and adjusted them as they grew in their relationship. He ignores it and walks to the end of the hall and knocks gently on Lancelot's door. When he gets no answer he cautiously opens it, to find an empty room. Shrugging he returns to the kitchen and begins to put away the groceries from before. Then he will shower and make something for himself. It’s possible too, that Lancelot went out for ingredients or some such necessity.

When he opens his door what he sees causes him to stop short. The streetlight is casting the faintest orange glow through his window and onto his bed. And there, curled on his side is Lance  in the fetal position, wearing his oversized sweater and purple skull covered socks, peacefully asleep. He smiles, it is the most adorable thing he has seen in a very long time. Lancelot's hair is down and unkept sprawling across his face and onto the blankets beneath him. Slowly he steps into the dark room, careful not to disturb his roommate. Hypercautiously he sits on the edge of the bed and thoughtfully brushes stray hair from Lancelot's face. He looks undisturbed and calm like this. Mouth slightly agape as he breathes in and out in a steady rhythm. The worry lines that come with final exams erased from his features under the sweet caress of sleep. His muscles relaxed and pliant as he shifts subtly closer to Gawain’s ghosting touch. He doesn’t know how long he sits there watching Lancelot, but he knows it is far longer than a friend perhaps should. Of course that comes as no surprise to him. He wishes they were more than friends, but neither had asked, and perhaps it was safer to remain in this domestic life they had than to fall into something labeled and full of expectations and preconceived notions. 

Finally, he rises and moves towards his dresser for a change of clothing, he has no idea how much time has gone by, only that he still needs to shower and eat something before he makes another decision. Casting a final gaze on his sleeping friend he leaves the room, door slightly ajar and showers. He loses track of time again and finds himself dwelling on what it would be like to have Lance in his bed regularly. To be able to view him in such peace anytime he wanted, and not just through a snatched moment, that the other is unaware of. When he finally leaves the bathroom dressed in a pair of surprisingly comfortable leggings, (He had thought they would be and he was correct) he scrubs at his head hair with a towel and drapes it around his shoulders to catch any remnants of dripping water. Stepping into the hall he shivers a touch, Lancelot likes to keep the apartment a touch on the chilly side, which isn’t an issue at all, except for right after he gets out of a near scalding hot shower. 

The hall light is on, and it hadn’t been, which means Lancelot must be awake now. He is determined not to say anything. There isn’t a point in bringing it up is there? Lancelot would likely just get embarrassed and go hide in his room, or in the shadowy depths of his comfy clothes, and impossibly large hood. He heads in the direction of the kitchen regardless, he hasn’t spoken to Lancelot in ages, or at least it feels like and whatever it is he has decided to cook tonight smells delicious. Garlic bread, his brain supplies, which means spaghetti. Simple, easy, a good “sorry I fell asleep and now I'm panicking to make something because I bet you're starving and it was my day to cook” food. Not that Gawain would have minded taking it on. Lancelot had been busy this week, finishing multiple art projects, writing a speech on his favorite era of art history, and studying for his theology exam. Infact, he was half tempted to tell the man to go lay back down and let him take over, but he would need a shirt for that and he was already in the dining room. 

“Spaghetti with your homemade Garlic butter?” He asks innocently. Lancelot glances up at him, the barest flick of his eyes and then back at what he is doing, preparing meatballs. And there it is. Lancelot looks back up, meets his eyes and then casually takes in the entire sight of him. Face flushing just a bit, but it could be the steam from the noodle water. He watches the bob of his throat as he swallows. He assumes the other is attempting to formulate a thought but short circuiting, so he takes the moment to study bare arms and a pale throat, and the way messy black curls cling to the side of his face, cascading loose from a hastily thrown up bun. Lancelot has ditched his sweatshirt to cook and is wearing only a tank top, the tattoo consisting of swirls and runes he doesn’t understand standing out brilliantly on his shoulder and cascading to his elbow. It wasn’t often he got to see this. It was a work of art, part of Lancelot's heritage and closely guarded. It was nearly impossible to look away as his eyes followed each swoop and dive, broad stroke and fine line as they moved in turn with the muscles beneath. 

 "Those are not basketball shorts." Grits out his roommate, eyes still staring below his navel. He has dropped the meatball he was making and turned slightly to take Gawain in better. Grinning he laughs, 

“They certainly are not. Thought I would change it up tonight. Korin said they were comfortable so I thought ‘what the hell, I’ll give it a shot.’”  Lancelot finally looks up at him and licks his lip. 

“ Are they?” Oh, he sounds like he’s choking on air. Lancelot towels his hands and takes a long drink from his water bottle. 

“So far, Yes. Do you want help?”

“With?” Lancelot looks lost in the kitchen, which is really unfortunate it  is one of his areas of magnificents. He watches as he casts his eyes anywhere but at Gawain.

“The balls.” 

“The - Uh, no I uh, I’m good. Thanks.” The paler man says swallowing and pointedly starting the blender to puree the tomatoes into a sauce, cheeks unmistakably flushed now. When the noise ceases he watches as the liquid is poured into a saucepan and a mixture of spices is added along with roasted garlic and sautéed onion, stirred aggressively and left to heat. He chuckles when Lancelot stills as he walks to the fridge and grabs the carton of milk. Leaning against the counter he watches as Lance finishes preparing the meatballs and lets his eyes linger as he bends to put them in the oven. Then at his hands as he strains the noodles. He takes a long draw of milk straight from the carton  and Lancelot turns to him, raises an eyebrow as they make eye contact and abruptly turns away instead of chewing him out like normal. Smirking to himself he wonders how far he can push Lancleot tonight without giving him a heart attack. He knows the attraction is mutual, unspoken but unmistakable. 

“Did you have a good nap.” The knife comes to a halt against the cutting board. Lancelot grips the carrot hard enough to turn his knuckles white and pointedly stirs the sauce with his other hand before picking up the knife and turning the rest of the carrot into bits for the salad. 

“Yes.” The mumble is almost lost among the clicking of the knife against the board. Gawain reaches for a slice of the now cooled Garlic bread, from his spot out of the way,  and receives a well aimed smack to the knuckles with the flat of the blade. He locks eyes with Lancelot who is glaring. 

“Do not ruin your appetite.” Lancelot hisses, eyes fierce. 

“I don’t think that's possible where you're involved.” He sets the milk down and steps into Lancelot's space, and picks up the piece of bread he had intended to steal. Neither of them move. 

“How come you napped in my room. I don’t mind. Not even a little, but I am curious.” He takes a bite of the bread and loses his train of thought, “oh god, can Lancelot cook” he had made the bread earlier in the week. Lancelot looks away from him and that stings a little but mostly it’s cute, the way the pink has not receded at all but is progressively turning redder and spreading to his ears and onto his neck. They are close enough to touch if Lance took a step forward. Instead he takes two steps back and Gawain reciprocates, taking another long gulp of milk from the jug as Lancelot checks the meatballs. The oven is set to broil so they shouldn’t take much longer. He can almost see the cogs turning as he carries the salad and plate of warm bread to the table. Then the Pasta, still in the pot with a large fork, and the sauce in its pan with a ladle. 

“I was watching the sunset. I can’t see it from my room.” Lancelot finally answers as he retrieves the meatballs from the oven and places them in a bowl to be taken to the table. Gawain stares at him for a moment, 

“And you were comfortable enough to fall asleep?” 

“Mmm... I got lost in thought.” 

“What were you thinking?”  Lancelot eyes him a moment then walks over and leans into his space, opening the cupboard to his right and removing two plates.

“Many things. Be a dear and bring the salad dressing and Parmesan cheese.”  He watches as Lancelot turns and all but saunters to the dining table with the bowl of meatballs, two plates and their silverware. Blinking he kicks himself for standing there dumbly while Lancelot waits at the table. He puts the milk away and does as he was asked. When he finally joins him at the table he folds the towel over the back of the chair and  they eat in silence, but god’s he’s going to die if he keeps catching the dark haired man looking at him like that. 

“What are you thinking now?” He manages around a bite of pasta. 

“That I felt safe.” 

“I don’t think I am following Lance.” Setting his fork down he makes purposeful eye contact. Seriousness seeping into what had been a very flirtatious evening. 

“I feel asleep in your bed, because I felt safe.” Lancelot looks away from him, and takes a drink of his water. He hadn’t expected that. What is he supposed to say? Slowly he takes another bite of his food, he suddenly feels so uncertain. Finally, for lack of anything better to say, 

“I’m glad,” he whispers and avoids making eye contact. 

“I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I Gawain?”  Asks the man beside him, voice small and fragile in his ears. 

“Not uncomfortable, thoughtful. I don’t know what the proper response to that is.” He answers honestly and meets blue eyes. 

“I don’t know either. But I wanted you to know that anyways.” Lancelot smiles softly and returns his focus to his food. 

They lapse back into silence as they finish their meal and clean up in synchronized routine. When the food has been put away, the counters wiped up and the dishes done, all in companionable silence, Gawain feels the need to speak again.

“If my teasing went too far earlier, I apologize.” He shrugs and picks up the damp towel to be put away properly. Lancelot snuggles back into the security of his oversized sweatshirt and turns to look at him. 

“You didn’t. I, I thought it was sweet. I would have spoken up. But, Gawain,” he stands still as the other approaches him, “ Were you teasing me, or flirting with me?”  He feels the flush creep up his chest and onto his face, Lancelot is suddenly very close and his eyes are so very blue and earnest. On instinct he reaches up and brushes curls behind his ears, knuckles barely dragging across the others cheekbones in the process, and he leans into it.

“Flirting, I was definitely flirting and teasing. Both. It was both.” 

“Good,” Lancelot whispers, catching his hand, he lets it still  and does not pull away as plump lips turn towards it and kiss his wrist. “Watch the sunset with me tomorrow:” 

He nods dumbly. He will happily watch the sunset with Lancelot whenever, wherever, and however, the other man asks him to. 

[raleighliving]

Raleigh Apartment Culture

So I'm of the mind that Raleigh is a great place to live. It has my favorite things, my favorite people, and I'm too broke to move anywhere else.

Raleigh works for me, but I recognize it doesn't work for everyone. Some people had less than ideal childhoods and wanna escape the state ASAP, some just want to live closer to their dream jobs or have new opportunities. That's all fine, but what if this describes where you are now?

What if, for the sake of argument, you're outside of NC and wanna move in? Moving is expensive, time-consuming, and risky at the best of times; so you wanna make sure that wherever you're landing is at least as good as where you started 90% of the time

"But RL," I hear you say, "you make Raleigh sound like an idyllic dreamscape populated with parks and a diverse kumbayah of peoples living in harmony"

I do talk about Raleigh in a positive light but, like a life saving medicine flavored like ass, sometimes you have to take the good with the bad.

So before you spend thousands of dollars on moving vans, boxes, and grits; here's a crash course on what it's like living in a Raleigh apartment, coming from someone whose majority of Raleigh Living (heh) has been in apartments.

First off, location. Any realtor will tell you that location is 80% of the sale to sound profound, and as anyone who has lived in the middle of ass-backward nowhere can tell you: It sucks having to drive 30 minutes to go anywhere.

Good news: With the Raleigh Beltline and connecting roads, there are very few places in Raleigh where your trip will last longer than thirty minutes one-way. Bad News: where you set down still matters because cutting down on travel is important for car and mental health.

North Raleigh is different from south Raleigh is different from northwest Raleigh, and the locals aren't the only difference you'll find between locations. Each segment of Raleigh has something to offer, with easier access to some attractions than others and neighboring cities for when you need something outside the RDU area.

Using downtown as the center of our wheel, people generally divide Raleigh into North and South Raleigh (with distinction given for NW, SE, NE, etc when needed). N.Raleigh is considered generally more upscale, a slice of suburban living interspersed with plenty of shopping centers for families and the moderately wealthy; but it's boring as all hell.

Want some fun? Excitement in the evenings and a more traditional urban experience with bars, night clubs, strip clubs, and more? South Raleigh is your best bet, at the cost of being the "sketchy" side of Raleigh. That kind of place where you'll see a bunch of auto shops that look abandoned but haven't been closed in the past 5 years and there's at least one customer from time to time.

Of course, this is a lot of generalizing but you'll find that it's still mostly accurate. The main exception in this is Capital Blvd, a highway cutting across north and south Raleigh on the eastern half of the city; a high crime corridor that's undergoing some changes in the northern half that have (somewhat) reduced crime but most people will still associate that area with the majority of Raleigh's crime and debauchery.

More importantly, is the distinction Raleigh citizens put on inside the beltline versus outside the beltline. The I-440 and 540 highways that wrap around Downtown form the mythical beltline, and to a degree what you have access to. Inside the beltline is the majority of workplaces, stores, and shopping centers; while outside you'll still have these things just to a more... dispersed extent.

North Raleigh actually kinda exemplifies this perfectly. Living inside the beltline, you have access to places like North Hills, Crabtree Valley mall, and Triangle Town Center. Live outside the beltline, like I currently am, and you're looking at 10 to 15 minutes to the nearest sheetz for that late night double hot dog fix.

So for point one: How important is it that you're near things? The majority of apartments and rental properties are in or around the belt-line, but if you want to save some cash on rent checks the cheaper properties are gonna extend your trips a bit.

Next, what can you expect in terms of neighbors? Does Raleigh have a hip party scene full of teens renting cheap apartments and blasting trap music at 3AM?

Depends on where you live

I swear not every point is going to be this, but there's an important distinction this time that affects the type of people your complex will likely have surrounding you; are you in North or South Raleigh?

North Raleigh has a ton of pre-schools, k-12 public schools (Leesville, Hillburn, Lead Mine, just to name a few), and office complexes that make up the job market. As a result the majority of apartment renters in north Raleigh tend to be families with a few small kids or so.

As a result, living off of Glenwood North and Edwards Mill I never had any noise problems from neighbors, the worst being kids playing outside at 3PM sounding like they were being murdered (which apparently is a common thing and I apologize to any neighbors I frightened with ghastly shrieks).

What I did have a problem with, however, was the typical Karen's you hear people complain about online. Renting a property now, we have access to our neighborhood's NextDoor page and it's hilarious sometimes to go on and read the comments, but living at a certain property we had a sort of mini-Facebook for residents

That thing was always full of either people who were moving out looking to sell their furniture or people passive-aggressively challenging each other/the apartment managers with comments about things happening around the complex.

Once I logged in to see one man accuse another, without ever actually accusing someone specific ("I know who did it and they should be ashamed" type post) of putting glass beer bottles under the tires of his truck to try and puncture them. Everyone acts civil in public, but then online they'll stir the pot harder than a chef with a hand mixer.

South Raleigh, you have the schools like Shaw University, Meredith, and NCSU; so the people renting down there are typically college kids. You'll see more apartments that cater towards them like University Village or University Woods, but sometimes these places will cater to both college kids and working adults

Avoid these places like the plague, because despite sometimes having a lower cost to live there the neighbors and their shenanigans will drive you up the wall (unless you're the type to join in, then go wild).

I've had friends stay at places like University Village and The Proper (formerly The Vie, formerly Wolf Creek) who've shared horror stories. 3AM parties ending in property damage or vomit in inconvenient places, drug deals not even trying to be subtle, and maintenance workers doing nothing because regardless of the apartment conditions; no school's gonna pull their contract with them unless news articles start getting written.

http://www.technicianonline.com/news/article_898ddf34-82f5-11e7-b3d8-07059d248619.html

https://www.wral.com/vie-at-raleigh-residents-finally-able-to-move-into-clean-units/16887833/

http://www.technicianonline.com/news/article_ea8ed7aa-a092-11e8-a2af-e70af36566d0.html

Otherwise, south Raleigh apartments are largely like north Raleigh apartments; except the crime rate tends to be a little higher and you'll run into more singles and people working full time.

Otherwise, Raleigh apartment culture is like apartment culture anywhere else in the country. You have a mix of apartments catering to those just looking to live versus more ostentatious luxury apartments with fancy pools, exercise facilities, and tech packages to draw people in.

If you're renting in Raleigh, however, do try to get a roommate or two if you can manage. Even with a decent job paying 800+ on a one bedroom one bath apartment can be exhausting at best, but with even one other person that can functionally halve your expenses

So if you're a young professional, or a student, or even if you have a small family, I can safely recommend renting in Raleigh. There's plenty of places that'll accommodate you, and cater towards your needs.

But what about everyone else? Are there people who shouldn't rent in Raleigh?

No

But there are groups who I'd seriously ask to consider their other choices before picking Raleigh as a destination for their new home.

For instance, are you a member of the LGBT community? A trans or non-binary individual? Well then, first off, I want you to know that you're loved and valid. I'm accepting of who you are and appreciate everyone's right to identify how they choose, but I'm not everyone.

Raleigh's bluer than other parts of North Carolina, as I've stated in other blog write-ups, but it's still part of North Carolina unfortunately and as a result, you'll face some challenges.

I doubt anyone's gonna burn a cross in your yard or knock over your mailbox, but Raleigh doesn't offer LGBT protections for housing, jobs, or credit/lending discriminations according to the Movement Advancement Project's website.

We have support organizations for LGBT and NB individuals, plenty of high schools and colleges have Gay-Straight Alliance clubs, and there are numerous businesses downtown that cater specifically to those individuals... but we're also the state that got into a lot of hot water because of a stupid bathroom bill, and our politicians are trying to pass anti-trans sports legislation (because they now magically care about the integrity of womens sports).

By that measure, but to a lesser extent, if you fall outside the Liberal/Conservative political spectrum then be prepared to have no one to discuss your politics with outside of a few sparse networks like the DSA.

Additionally, if you don't have someone to room with or a significant other to split costs with; you may want to try searching somewhere a little cheaper.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Raleigh housing prices aren't terrible for a major metropolitan city, but we're not the best prices in the world.

You can get prices on apartments and rentals lower than say, California or New York. However, compared to other parts of NC like Greensboro or Garner; rentals are still a bit much.

On average, a Raleigh apartment can run you about $900 for a single bedroom and a single bathroom. You can find cheaper, but often times there's some risk associated (Crime levels, quality of the room, quality of the property manager, etc.) Looking for a two bedroom? Then your average price is gonna jump up to around $1,200, and this is all before utilities and cable come into play.

It's true a lot of companies around here will pay more than the $7.25 minimum wage, but most low-skilled jobs will pay around 10-11 an hour.

I guess though, that's kind of an obvious statement. "Don't live in Raleigh if you can't afford to live in Raleigh."

I might expand on these thoughts at a later time, but hopefully for now I've given you some food for thought; or at the very least an entertaining read for a few minutes.

I love my city, and I love the friends I've made in it, but the sad truth is that nowhere is perfect for everyone; leastways Raleigh. If Raleigh sounds like the kind of place you'd like to live in, at least take a day trip to come visit and see how things go that way. Visit some stores, meet some locals, and form an opinion off of more than travel blogs and youtube videos.