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gloriainalbis · 4 years

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Half a Person

Klaus Hargreeves x Reader Words: 7.8k Warnings: Drugs, smoking, and alcohol, mentions of ODing and death, swearing Summary: It’s difficult watching the person you care about most in the world barreling towards rock bottom, and it’s even more difficult when you only find out after. Ao3

For what felt like the hundredth time, you were waiting outside a formidably bland concrete building, leaning against your car and staring up at a sign that read ‘Something-Something Clinic’ or ‘The-Such-And-Such Center.’ Today it was Lakeshore Hills Rehabilitation. You’d gotten the all too familiar call only a week ago, and it was the first time you’d heard anything from Klaus in almost a month. Seeing Lakeshore’s name pop up, you’d answered immediately. You had the main number for close to every rehab center in the city saved in your phone for precisely this eventuality.

“Klaus?!” you answered expectantly. “y/n! Oh, how I’ve missed your voice!” You ignored him and got right to the point. “Where have you been?” “Oh, here and there. Rehab, mostly.” Well, that explained his absence, but not the lack of calls. “Why haven’t I heard from you? I was worried.” You still were, honestly, but decided to leave that part out. “Oh, you know, reasons.” It was painfully apparent that he was leaving something out. “Anyways! Got any plans for next Friday?” “Do you need someone to pick you up?” “Excellent deduction skills, y/n.” “Thank you. What time?” “Noon, Lakeshore Hills. Be there or be square!” You grinned, grateful that he couldn’t see you smiling at his joke. “Okay, Klaus.” “Great, thank you. Goodbye!” “Wait!-” the line clicked and went dead, leaving you with some answers and even more questions.

You still hadn’t heard from Klaus in the past week, but you tried not to hold that against him. Someone from the rehab center had called you a few days ago to confirm that you were Klaus’s designated pick-up, which was one of many hints that something wasn’t right. You were often there to pick him up, but it was seldom that it was required. The front doors burst open. “y/n!” Klaus was beaming as he jumped over the front steps. “Hey, Klaus.” You had planned on scolding him and asking questions but forgot as soon as you saw him. “It’s so good to see you!” He pulled you into a giant hug, and the feathery trim of his coat tickled your cheek. “Mr. Hargreeves!” you heard from the door, “Mr. Hargeeves, wait! We still need you and your escort to sign discharge papers.” He pulled away and cocked an eyebrow at you, “Oooh, escort…” he purred. “How scandalous,” you joked before turning to the nurse. “Forgive him.” You walked with Klaus back to the building, signed the papers, and then left, for real this time. When you finally got back to the car, he seemed to sink into the passenger’s seat, slumping into it and propping his feet up on the dashboard in front of him, plastic hospital bracelet dangling from his wrist. You tried to keep your eyes on the road, but couldn’t help sneaking a glance at him. The lines of exhaustion were written clearly all over his face. “So,” you started. “You look… unwell.” “I have my reasons.” He shot you a nonchalant grin that didn’t seem to fit the mood, but oh well. You turned off the main road and were only a few streets away from Klaus’s apartment when he stopped you. “Ooooh, wait, I have a huge favor to ask of you.” He sat up a little straighter. “Okay? Shoot.” “Well, I got evicted, so-” “You what?!” Well, that was quite the bombshell. “I was kicked out! My lease is no more, it’s passed on, gone to meet its maker, it’s an ex-lease, whatever.” He gestured dramatically into thin air. You persisted, “When did this happen?” “While I was in rehab,” he admitted quietly. He still seemed to be hiding something, though, which worried you. “Is that even legal? Can they do that?” “Uuuuhhhh....” he tried to stall, but you shot him an incredibly motivating glare. “Alright, fine. I may or may not have neglected to pay my rent, and upon further inquiry was found severely passed out.” Excuse you? What was that supposed to mean? If you weren’t worried before (which you had been), you were now. “What? Did you-” “On the upside, it was the closest I’ve been to actually seeing Ben in years!” He brushed you off with an even more cryptic admission. “Oh my god, Klaus, what do you mean?” You could feel your heart sinking lower and lower in your chest as he continued to ignore your questions. “That I definitely need a place to stay.” You had already turned around and started driving back to your place. “No, I meant-“ “Do you mind, (Y/N), if I used your couch for a while, pretty pleaaaase?” That exhaustion from earlier was peeking through his resolve, and you could see how much he just needed to sleep, to rest. Maybe he would talk about it later. “Fine,” you acquiesced, hoping this wouldn’t bite you in the ass later. “Yay! Thank you, y/n!” He clapped his hands triumphantly and blew joyful kisses at you until you finally smiled.

The rest of the car ride involved minimal chatter as you tried to process what he had told you. It was incredibly serious. From what you could tell, going over his words again and again in your head, ‘severely passed out,’ ‘closest to actually seeing Ben in years,’ he had OD’d, and not in his typical wake-up-in-the-ambulance fashion. You knew that he could see and talk to Ben, at least when he was mostly sober, so being closer to him than he had been in years meant something different. How were you only hearing about this now? Since he had just gotten out of rehab, this had to have been at the very least a month ago. Klaus could have realistically, actually died. Your mind raced with possibilities and questions, but most of all, you just wanted to make sure he would be okay. He had to be. You made an odd pair, you being a somewhat put together, mostly functioning adult, and him being a clingy junkie whose life was perpetually in shambles. Still, you couldn’t imagine your world without him in it. He was your best friend, the person you cared about more than your self-preservation instincts wanted to allow. You saw so much more in him than he could ever imagine. Without him… you didn’t even want to entertain the notion. You were all about being prepared, but this was too real. You couldn’t think those thoughts and imagine that you could very well go through them all again in not too long, for real.

You got back to your apartment finally, telling Klaus you’d make space on the couch for him before going off to find pillows and blankets. He started walking backward hastily in the direction of your bathroom. “I gotta go- in the other room- to the bathroom- for a sec…” “Okay, Klaus…” It was strange, but Klaus himself was strange, and it wasn’t the weirdest thing you’d heard from him today. Klaus made sure he saw you leave the room before walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. As an addict and junkie, he’d hidden stashes everywhere. Honestly, the Hargreeves mansion would probably be worth considerably more if all the drugs hidden there were taken into account, and those stashing instincts extended to your apartment as well. Klaus stared intently at the tile walls of your bathroom, looking for the one that was slightly out of place. He found it above the toilet, a few tiles down from the ceiling.

You returned to the living room, placing down your gathered things before sitting beside them, melting into the couch, exhausted, as Klaus had done in your car. With him momentarily gone, you had some space to think- and break down. You let out a quiet sob. And then another. You had been so close to losing Klaus and knew that it would, in all likelihood, only happen again. And again. And again. You needed to be there for him and make him see how much he meant to you, but he was once more approaching rock bottom, and you didn’t know if you could take it this time. A painful tension built in your chest as you tried to keep some semblance of composure, but sobs kept bubbling up and the hurt kept ripping through you. So, head in hands, you curled up, pulling yourself closer and closer inward.

Klaus was standing on your toilet, carefully and quietly removing a loose wall tile. “Bingooo!” he whispered with levity. “This is a bad idea,” Ben spoke, suddenly appearing in your bathroom. “Oh, Ben, lovely to see you. Bye now!” Ben glared indignantly as Klaus wiggled his fingers and un-summoned him. “Wha- Klaus!” “Toodles!” And with that, Ben disappeared. He was replacing the tile, pill bottle in hand, when he heard a sound coming from the living room. He froze, listening. He had learned many things during the decade and a half he spent under the instruction of Reginald Hargreeves, one being the importance of gathering intel. When faced with an unfamiliar environment or sound, listen, stay still, and wait. Figure out what it is before proceeding. But, being perfectly honest, Klaus wasn’t thinking about his childhood superhero training at that moment, he was far more concerned with being caught. Nevertheless, the sound became clearer as he focused on it, and he could eventually make out sniffling and- crying? Shoving the pills into his coat pocket, he leaned down and steadied himself on the counter before slowly stepping off the toilet, being careful to ensure that the rubber soles of his shoes didn’t squeak. He unlocked the bathroom as quietly as possible and crept into the doorway to see what was wrong. Something in his heart broke. The crying slowed to fitful sniffles, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the tears still shining in your red eyes and on your cheeks. The pill bottle felt unrealistically heavy in his pocket as his stomach dropped right down to his feet, leaving only sickening embarrassment and shame. He felt like a complete and utter piece of shit. He tried to let it pass, but it just kept washing over him in waves. It was difficult, but even more so was trying to keep that fear and guilt from showing in his voice as he spoke up. “y/n?” Surprised and a little startled by his sudden appearance, you turned around and made attempts to wipe your eyes dry, but it was too late. And you both knew it. You tried not to look at him as he crossed the room and sat beside you, very contained and un-Klaus-like. By contrast, he couldn’t tear his eyes from you and couldn’t stop feeling like shit. Then you turned to him, perking up and putting on a thinly veiled smile, the tone of your voice too cheery to be sincere. “Hey, Klaus, what’s up?” The furious drying had only worsened the redness of your eyes as you continued to look like a vision of sorrow. “Well, I saw you crying. So that’s something.” You should’ve known that he understood you too well to be fooled that easily. And he was right. Your smile broke, eyebrows furrowing into a painful look of grief. “Are you alright?” he knew his words were hollow. It was more than obvious that you weren’t alright, but he didn’t want to point out or confirm why. You slumped back into the couch, looking defeated. This was difficult to say. “It’s… hard. To see you so determined to destroy yourself.” You stopped there, wanting to be strong, unwaveringly stable, worried that Klaus would lose all motivation if your faith in him wasn’t absolute. But feelings and emotions aren’t that simple. Klaus relied strongly on you to ground him, to provide a baseline and a home, but he was well aware of his failure to maintain any and all relationships and didn’t expect much beyond that. And besides, he was used to letting people down and had been able to see your weariness with him grow considerably over the past few months. And you- you were tired. The fuel of your optimism and hope had gone completely dry, and you were running on empty. You wanted to believe he could and would stay sober but you just didn’t anymore. There was the occasional good day or two, but they never lasted. He didn’t know what to do, what he could say, to make it better. So he went with the next best thing, sincerity. He reached out for your hand, both to steady himself and to let you know how much he meant what he was about to say. “I’m sorry,” he whispered through a broken voice. It was small and nearly silent, but you appreciated it far more than any speech or string of excuses. It was real and genuine. Letting go of your hand, he reached an arm out to bring you close, and you understood. He nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You spoke no words. You didn’t need to. Sincerity was a lot more difficult for Klaus than his usual flippancy and nonchalance, and you were both too drained to continue talking anyway. You just held onto each other.

That night, you went to your room while Klaus tried to settle into the couch. He lay there, unable to fall asleep. Time ticked on, and he could do nothing but stay awake. He was on his back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind the pillow under his head. He was lucky that your apartment wasn’t as haunted as it could be. But time is long, and the dead are plenty, so Klaus was never without his demons. They whispered in the back of his mind, very quietly, barely there. But it was hard not to hear them, and it was worse when he closed his eyes. The long-gone and less unsettled spirits that he had a harder time conjuring visually had almost no trouble simply projecting their likenesses into his mind. They called for him, reaching out through him, into him, all around him. He could almost feel their clammy hands plastered all over his skin, suffocating him, dragging him back down with them. Breathless, utterly exhausted, and entirely unable to sleep, Klaus sat up and walked to your room. He didn’t quite know what he was doing and, feeling odd just standing in the doorway, crept closer to you and whispered your name. “Klaus?” You were groggy and confused but awake. “Wakey wakey,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light. “What is it? Is something wrong?” He didn’t look great, his mussed up hair flying off in countless directions. Dark circles loomed under his wide, fearful eyes. “I was wondering if I could… uh… maybe stay with you?” “Of course,” you patted the space next to you, and he climbed into bed gratefully. At first, you were just lying next to each other, but as he got more comfortable and you settled down again, his hand naturally found yours. Once you were holding hands, it only made sense to scooch closer to each other. You were both tired and needed comforting. Consequences be damned. Before long, he was on his side, arms wrapped around you while you lay against him, nestled into his chest. He placed a small kiss on your forehead, and you smiled lazily, knowing that he was doing the same. You couldn’t help but love the feeling of his skin against yours, his body beside you, solid and warm and wholesome.

He was still there, still entangled, when you awoke the next morning. You let yourself enjoy his peaceful expression for a few moments. Time didn’t seem to pass as you lay there with him. As far as you were concerned, you had always been here, sleepy and happy in the soft morning light, and always would be. Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself, and you reached up a hand to touch his cheek. His eyes opened, greeting you with tender green, and he smiled. “What a beautiful way to wake up.” You refrained from giggling but definitely felt like it. “Hello to you, too.” You dropped your hand from his face, letting it fall into the small space between you. “How about we do all this again in, hmmm, ten minutes.” He pulled you closer. “You didn’t get any sleep at all on the couch, did you?” You wondered with some concern He closed his eyes, “Nope.” “I’ll make us breakfast,” you decided, trying to sit up but finding his arms inextricably wrapped around your waist. “Hmmph,” he groaned in protest. “I’ll make coffee, too,” you reasoned, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead, which seemed to placate him. His grip slackened, and you untangled yourself. You got up, put on some more appropriate clothes than your grungy pajamas, and took one last look at him before leaving the room. Klaus appeared to belong there, in your bed, curled up under your comforter and looking more serene than you could ever recall having seen him before.

Breakfast smelled delicious, but what actually got Klaus to leave the perfect comfort of your bed was the wafting scent of coffee. Uppers had always been his drug of choice, so anything energizing was always a must when attempting sobriety. He wandered into the kitchen, still in the shorts and small tee he’d slept in. “Good morning, Klaus.” “Good morning, coffee,” he joked, pretending to ignore you while pouring himself a cup. You raised your spatula in warning, and he chuckled nervously. “Haha, just kidding, good morning to you, too.” He set down the coffee slowly, and you returned to the breakfast still in progress. “Did you finally get to sleep?” Klaus wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind, “Yes, thank you.” He placed a kiss on your cheek before grabbing his coffee and sitting down at your small table. It was the largest one you could find to fit in your tiny apartment, and yet still only seated two. You joined him a few minutes later with two plates of food. You ate in silence. The morning had gone well so far, blissfully, even, but your short conversation and crying session from yesterday still loomed large. You just wanted to forget about it and move on. But Klaus, in that moment, was acutely aware of the pills still tucked into his coat pocket across the room. “Listen, about my breakdown yesterday-” you began. Klaus perked up at the mention of it, “Oh, yes, we really should talk about that.” “What? No-” now it was your turn to chuckle nervously, “just forget about it, really.” “We both know that’s not how this works.” He looked at you pleadingly, and it didn’t take much for you to give in. If Klaus wanted to talk seriously, then you wanted to let him. “Fine,” your voice became softer. “I understand if you don’t want to share details, but from what I can piece together, something dangerously serious happened a month ago, and you didn’t tell me until yesterday.” He set down his empty coffee cup. “Not my finest moment.” You could tell that he was still avoiding talking about it directly. “I don’t want to lose you, Klaus, I can’t lose you, can’t you see that?” He nodded solemnly. “And to think that it could just happen, that I could just wake up one morning and you’d be-” you couldn’t say it, but you knew he understood. “That’s terrifying.” “I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know how to make you stay after I told you,” he admitted. It hurt knowing you had to tell him how exhausted you were. “I really do want to…” You didn’t even have to say it, the ‘but’ hung in the air between you, bounding back and forth like a toxic little ping pong ball of doubt. “You know, the very first time I went to rehab, all of my siblings were there to pick me up. Even Ben, spectrally. It didn’t take long for me to relapse, and it didn’t take much longer for them to stop coming. You’re the only one who’s still here.” “It's so hard, Klaus, and I’m so tired.” You were trying not to cry at this point. “I know.” You could hear his voice break. Was this conversation hurting him as much as it hurt you? “I care so much, and I don’t know how to make you see that, or protect your, or- or do anything at all. I don’t know what to do!” You felt like crap for lashing out, for blaming him when he seemed almost as powerless as you. “No one’s perfect, y/n.” His eyes began to water, too, threatening to turn into tears. “I know it’s not easy, and I’m so sorry.” It was incredibly painful for him to imagine you leaving. He wanted to stand up and scream, to yell, do something, anything, to make you understand that you were all he needed, but he didn’t have the words for it. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. You were still trying to process what he had said about his siblings. You knew all of them and their contentious relationships pretty well, so it didn’t surprise you that they seldom turned up in his hour of need, but it hadn’t yet occurred to you that they should. When you realized how much it would mean to him if even one of them was there just to pick him up, you realized how little he expected the people around him to do, and how significant your presence alone must have been. You had wanted to be strong for him, to be as good as possible, and as supportive as possible, whatever he needed. But all he needed was you. You smiled at him gently as you realized this. “If all you need is for me to be there, then I will always be there.” Relief flooded him, and in a heated moment, he lunged forward and pulled you into a kiss. It took you by surprise, your heart practically bursting out of your chest, but you quickly melted into him. Klaus had cursed himself for his impulsiveness at first, but all that drifted away when you kissed back. The feeling of your lips on his, the way you seemed to meld into him, readily greeting his fervor ardently and earnestly. Your hands found their way to his chest as he cupped your face. It was intoxicating, and you were both out of breath when you finally pulled away, still so close that you might as well be touching. “Thank you,” he breathed. You could tell that he meant it for your comfort and support, as well as the kiss. You laughed, breathlessly, as the pressure and tension left you, leaning down to rest your head on his chest. He joined you, grinning and giggling in relief and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Kisses between you and Klaus weren’t typical, but they had happened before. It was something you didn’t speak about, but that added a whole other layer of complexity to your relationship. You cared about Klaus, more profoundly than you’d ever cared about another person. You shared something. Whether that practically soul-binding connection was platonic or romantic had yet to be fully decided. But you knew two things, and they kept you going. You loved him, and he cared deeply for you. What you lacked the emotional intelligence to realize, of course, was that while close friends could indeed enjoy the occasional platonic kiss, emotionally charged near-makeout sessions typically signified, you know, romantic feelings. “I’m going to go have a smoke, wanna join me?” He asked once you had both settled down. “Sure.” You couldn’t say that you supported his smoking habit, but you far preferred it to drugs or drinking, so you had no objections. You cleared the dishes as Klaus gathered his things. Putting on his coat, he stuck his hand into his pocket and remembered the pills he retrieved yesterday. Ben noticed. “In the spirit of being honest, you know, now would be a great time to tell her about the pills you still have.” He didn’t want to lose your trust (or, secondarily, his sobriety), but also couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of them. He knew this was a dangerous game, but recovery is supposed to be a process, right? Right? “Recovery is not short and sweet. It is a lifelong process,” Klaus quoted. “That’s what the poster says, at least.” “It would probably be easier if you didn’t keep pills in your pocket.” “Shut up, Ben!” He hissed, trying not to catch your attention.

You followed him outside, sitting next to him on the stairs out front of your apartment as he pulled out a lighter and cigarette. He sighed after taking the first drag, grateful for the rush of nicotine. Wonderful nicotine. It would have to take the place of other inebriants for the time being, so he tried to savor it. “Feel good?” you asked, mocking him slightly. “Oooooh yeah,” he smiled, putting an arm around your shoulder. You leaned into it instinctively, letting your head rest against his shoulder. You enjoyed Klaus’s little moments. He may have a tendency to hurt you and push away the people around him, but he did care. He cared deeply, and you loved when he showed it. Then he decided to break the silence. “Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?” He sounded serious, genuinely concerned as to whether or not you had heard the sordid tale. “No, EW!” “It was painful,” he continued, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Klaus, what?!” He chuckled quietly to himself at your exasperation.

The pill bottle remained in his left coat pocket for the next week. Life with you was practically blissful, he wished it would last forever- and wondered why he hadn’t yet had the guts to make whatever you had official. It turns out leaving things abstract and unlabeled is a lot more complicated in practice. But it was Klaus’s feelings towards relationships that were complicated, not his feelings towards you. Committed relationships were honestly terrifying to him, unsurprising for someone who grew up steeped in what could essentially be called a non-committal home life where traditional familial relationships were simultaneously enforced, through the very conventional loving-wife-and-mother Mombot and disallowing of inter-sibling romantic pursuits, like with Allison and Luther, but also condemned through a dehumanizing number system to replace names, traumatic isolation during training, and the calculated creation of a team dynamic to replace the fractured sibling bonds. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. But you- he knew how he felt about you. He loved you and had very recently come to the realization that he had for years. But even that was yet another reason to not commit. He felt incredibly guilty as it was, factoring in an actual relationship where you would feel obligated to stay with him was a whole new order of magnitude. But he was even more worried that if your relationship became more concrete, his inability to handle commitment would jeopardize everything.

You endeavored to clean up one morning. The blanket and pillow from Klaus’s first night here remained on the couch, though he had only used them once. It was while moving his coat out of the way that you heard an all too familiar rattle. You froze and hoped against all hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was. You stood up slowly, trying to put off the inevitable, before reaching your hand into the pocket and pulling out a bottle of immediately recognizable small, colorful pills. You felt angry, wretched, and wracked your brain to try and retroactively see the warning signs. A small yet venomous voice blamed you for not noticing sooner, for becoming complacent. You tried not to listen. It was difficult. The front door opened while you were still standing there. It was Klaus, back from a quick trip to the nearest convenience store for a pack of cigarettes, which he had been smoking more and more of lately in an attempt to quell the urges of addiction. “Darling, I’m hoooome!” he purred, closing the door. “I got-” he saw you holding his coat and the bottle of pills and stopped dead in his tracks, one hand still on the doorknob. He glanced up at your face for one horrible moment before turning away and biting his lip, waiting for you to say something. “You left your coat,” you pointed out as explanation. “Oh. I see.” You knew Klaus so well, but it was impossible to guess what he was thinking when the entire past week of what you had believed to be sincerity was called into question. “How could you?” You whispered, wanting an explanation but feeling woefully unprepared to hear it. You were hurt, horribly. Your chest burned with pain, your mind raced with barely comprehensible thoughts, mostly vague emotions, sinking feelings, and hurt. A lot of hurt. He looked pained and defeated, stepping forward tentatively and holding his hands out. “Please, y/n, I can explain.” “Klaus…” you whimpered, tearing up despite your best efforts. “Just listen to me, please, just listen!” “Don’t.” you pleaded. It was agonizing to watch him try and reason again and again. You’d heard everything a thousand times before. “Please! Please, I’m sober, I swear!” you looked at him incredulously and his tone softened. “I’m telling you the truth.” You told yourself that you wanted to believe him, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. You sighed and glanced away. “Y/n, I’m sober! I’m not lying to you, please!” “I don’t know how to believe you,” you admitted. It was difficult to say, so difficult. But it was the truth. Klaus was quiet, not offended, really, just disappointed- in himself. What was he supposed to expect? Only a week out of rehab and already caught keeping a bottle of pills in his pocket, even if he hadn’t used them. He wanted to make you understand, but he didn’t have the words to tell the truth without making it sound like he was lying. “You reeeaaally should have thrown those out,” Ben chimed. “Please trust me, (y/n), there’s a perfectly semi-reasonable explanation.” You raised an eyebrow. “Sure, they’ve been in my pocket for a week, but-” “A week?! You’ve only been out of rehab for a week!” It didn’t stop hurting. The thing that felt like a hole in your chest just kept growing and growing as you watched him struggle over your words and wince at your reactions. “Oh, no. No no no, it’s not what you think.” He was bewildered. “This whole time? You’ve had these this whole time?!” You couldn’t stop yourself as your thoughts spiraled. He grimaced and squirmed a little, not wanting to answer. “Well…” “Really, Klaus?! Really?” How much of this past week had been a lie, you wondered, how much of it had been sincere? Was he more comfortable with you because you were making progress, or was he just high? Your head spun and it hurt to think about. He couldn’t do anything but watch, horrified as you dropped the coat, grabbed your phone, and strode out of the apartment, still holding the pills. He couldn’t summon up the right words or actions to make you stop and listen. It felt like his mind was disassembling, falling apart. As soon as you closed the door, he broke down, holding the sides of his head and screaming. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity FUCK!” You could hear him through the door, and it tore at you. “Damn it, NO! No no no nononono! FUCK!” You wanted to think that this was warranted, that it made sense to be angry, but you couldn’t shake the immense guilt, the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You tore yourself away and started walking. You decided to call Diego, whom you knew was also pretty used to Klaus’s antics. “C’mon, Diego. Please pick up…” He did. “Y/n! Hey, what’s up?” You hadn’t spoken to Diego in a while. He sounded good. “It’s-” you hesitated, finding it hard to say and unaware of how much he knew. Most likely, nothing. “It’s about Klaus.” “Oh.” It was a loaded explanation. Diego sighed. “What is it this time?” “Where do I even begin?” You asked, realizing you probably should have thought this through more. “At the beginning,” he responded. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and figure out what to say. “So, twelve years ago, you met Klaus-” You surprised yourself by laughing. “Okay, not that beginning,” he conceded. It was calming to hear from someone who wasn’t actively freaking out. “It was two weeks ago. I got a call from Lakeshore. It was Klaus, in rehab again and getting out in a week.” “Surprise, surprise,” he interjected sarcastically. “No, just- listen.” You tried to impress on Diego the gravity of what you were telling him, what was so different about this time. “So I went to pick him up last week, and on the drive back to his place he tells me that he got evicted and needed somewhere to stay.” “Also not really a surprise-” “Diego!” You insisted. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll shut up.” You continued, “The way he explained it, he was a few months behind on rent and when his landlord came to collect, they found him quote-unquote ‘severely passed out’.” Diego was silent, which you were grateful for. “So he OD’d a month ago and I only found out about it last week. “I’m sorry, (y/n), but you know him.” He probably believed you were just venting, but this was so much more than that. “He said it was the closest he’s been to seeing Ben in years.” “Woah.” He finally understood. “I’m so tired, Diego. So tired.” You were near defeat. “I know. You’re the only one left still putting up with his shit.” You chose to ignore that. “So we talked, and he apologized. It seemed sincere. We talked again the next day, and then it was honestly kind of wonderful. He was back to his old self. He has been all week.” The line went quiet for a few moments. “What happened?” There was no judgment in Diego’s tone. Just sympathy. You stopped walking, and, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, your voice began to crack. “I found a bottle of pills in his pocket today,” you could hear Diego sigh on the other end, “and he’s apparently had them this entire week.” “Oh my god, that little SHIT!” You heard the telltale whoosh and thunk of Diego throwing a knife in some instinctive burst of anger. “He insists that he’s sober, but I have no idea if I can believe him.” You looked around for a bench or some stairs. Your feet ached, your head ached, your soul ached. You needed to sit down. “Where are you? I am coming over there right the fuck now and dealing with this.” “No, Diego, please. I’m not at the apartment. I had to get out of there.” You understood why he felt protective, but it wasn’t what you needed right now. You needed everything to be okay, even though it wasn’t. Diego’s more aggressive tactics weren’t going to fix anything. “Well then, where are you?” He had started to sound worried. “I’m just walking. I left Klaus at my place. I don’t know if he’s still there or not.” You spotted a bench outside of a park just down the street and made a beeline for it. “Tell me the street. I can be there in four minutes and fifty-three seconds.” His determination was sweet. “Please don’t. I just- I need to figure this out.” You finally sat down, cross-legged because you honestly felt like curling into a ball right about now. Diego thought for a moment, ultimately deciding that it was better to let you talk to him than to intervene on your behalf. “Fine. What makes you believe him?” This was something you and Diego did fairly often, your very own twisted pro and con lists, stacking up the evidence for Klaus versus the evidence against Klaus. “Well, he didn’t try to stop me or make a grab for the dope when I left, he didn’t plead or beg, he just tried to get me to listen to him, which I now realize I utterly failed to do. And the bottle’s pretty full, so I doubt he could have had this for a whole week already. The label’s also from a while ago, but who knows if that actually means anything. And Diego, I have to believe he was being sincere when we talked. I have to.” Diego was silent for a while. “And the evidence against him?” You took another deep breath. “The pills I found in his pocket, the fact that he’s had them this entire time, and- ohmygod, I just remembered something.” A memory flashed into your mind, feeding the sinking feeling that pervaded your senses. “What?” Diego’s tone betrayed his concern. “He hasn’t been acting shifty or running off without explanation. He’s barely been out of my sight this whole week, but after I picked him up, the second we got back to my place, he made some lame excuse about having to do something in another room or go to the bathroom. I just remembered it now. It’s the kind of shit he says when he’s getting high or stashing stuff.” It was true and only served to fuel the nervousness that made you want to scream. You sniffled, trying to ignore the passing glances of strangers. “When was this?” He still sounded sympathetic. “Right when we got home.” When we got home. It’s funny what you say when you’re not thinking about it. Diego was silent for a long time. “Diego? Are you still there?” “Talk to him.” He spoke finally. “See what he has to say for himself.” It was a surprise to hear Diego even remotely on Klaus’ side, but you were grateful. “Okay. Thank you.” You said your goodbyes. Diego reminded you that he could be anywhere in the city in under five minutes and told you to call him back later. You sat there for a few moments, alone, with just your phone in hand and endless thoughts in your mind. You felt wrong for having left Klaus to his own horrible devices while he was clearly falling to pieces, but simultaneously angry at him for doing this to you and for seemingly disregarding everything you had been trying to tell him for the past week. Above all, you just felt pain, and you knew Klaus was the reason why, even if he didn’t want to be. You got up and started to walk back. Passing a trash can by an intersection, you made a split-second decision to throw out the pills.

Finally back at the apartment, you stopped before your front door, scared to open it. You took a deep, though shaky, breath to steady and brace yourself. You’d had versions of this conversation countless times, and you knew it was more than likely that you would again in the future. You assured yourself that even if he wasn’t sober, he would be okay. You just needed to stay with him, to let him know you were there, and hope it would be enough. You opened the door. Klaus was pacing circles around the room with a lit cigarette smoldering between his fingers. A window was cracked open, which you knew was as far as it would go. The bag he brought back from the convenience store sat on the table with the contents, two boxes of cigarettes, dumped out next to an ashtray. One box lay open, and several cigarettes were missing. The open window was a nice touch. “y/n.” He noticed you immediately and stopped pacing. “Hey.” You smiled softly. “I’m sorry I walked out, I shouldn’t have.” Klaus hadn’t moved yet. He stood still, his eyes following you with restless longing. He finally reached down and snuffed out the cigarette, leaving the rest of it in the ashtray. “Did you call Diego?” he asked, trying to piece together why you left. “Yes,” you responded. Klaus looked a little scared and started to reach for his coat, “but he told me to listen to you, which I’m going to do.” “Oh! That’s a surprise!” Klaus looked pleased. He also looked much more contained than you’d ever seen him before, but the red eyes and disheveled hair told a different story. He sat down on the couch, and you sat beside him. “You had an explanation?” “Yes,” he nodded, fidgeting before working up the nerve to speak. “Well… a long while ago, which was not that long ago, I may have- well, I did- hide some drugs here, in your apartment.” Your eyes widened, and he winced. “Specifically, behind a loose tile in the bathroom.” You knew where he was going with that, “The pills that were in your pocket.” “Bingo!” He flashed a small, somber smile. “This doesn’t paint me in the most flattering light, but I had no intention of staying sober when you picked me up last week. Then I… heard you. I felt like a real piece of shit.” “Oh.” It was a lot to process. He was starting to fidget more, and you could see his eyes watering, threatening tears. “I am so sorry, y/n.” He was starting to break down. “But I didn’t take any, I swear!” “Why did you still have them?” You asked, earnestly trying to maintain composure. He ran his hands through his hair. “I couldn’t-” Klaus looked tortured. He was terrified you wouldn’t believe him. “I couldn’t bring myself to toss them.” It came out as a whisper. “Klaus…” “I know it was shitty, and Ben’s been harping at me to do it all week-” “I threw them out,” you admitted, and watched for his reaction. He breathed out a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god.” You put a hand to your mouth as you realized he was telling the truth. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” you choked, trying not to let your voice break. “Hey hey hey, no hard feelings!” He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, and you placed your head on his chest. “You’re here, that’s all that matters.” “She really cares about you, Klaus, maybe you should stop hurting her,” Ben said. Klaus glared at him, but the words did have an effect. “I’m really proud of you, Klaus,” you whispered. That seemed to give him the impetus he needed. You were confused for a moment as he pulled away from you, but then he tilted his head down and kissed you. You froze briefly, because this already felt different than the other times you had kissed. Then you accepted it, hanging your arms around his shoulders. He leaned in closer to you and placed a hand on your cheek, stroking softly back and forth with his thumb. You tried to deepen the kiss, running your hand through his soft curls, and he let you. He let you. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. This was love. Chaotic and confused and messy, but love. He pulled away, arms still around you as you stared past him in disbelief. “Oh my god,” you whispered breathlessly. You noticed, then, that one of his hands had wandered to your waist and, having hiked up your shirt slightly, was pressed against the small of your back. The warmth of his hand on your skin, the feeling of him touching you, was euphoric. “You felt something, too, right?” He asked in a dazed tone, somehow sounding both soft and desperate at the same time. You looked up at him, into his eyes, and found something reflected back at you that was remarkably familiar. It was a feeling. “Yes.” You almost laughed, almost cried. You felt like bursting. Leaning, almost lunging, forward, you kissed him once again, crashing and falling back into him. His lips on yours, your hands on him, his arms around you, his breath on your skin. You were intoxicated, you were engulfed, you were in love.

You weren’t sure how, but when you finally looked up from each other to notice your surroundings, it was night. Holding onto one another, you made it across the dark and quiet apartment and found your way back to your bed together. You found yourself pulled into his embrace, and you also found yourself accepting it willingly. You were facing him, head resting on his arm and nestled against him. His chest was so close to you, so warm under your fingers. It was a familiar warmth to be close to him, the same smells, of eyeliner and cigarettes, the same steady sound of his breathing, the same sparks every time his skin brushed against yours. You couldn’t possibly dream of falling asleep now. “y/n?” he spoke in barely more than a whisper. “Hmm?” you hummed in response. “I’m sorry.” It was a small few words, but you knew how intently he meant it. Tilting your head up to find him just as wide-eyed and awake as you were, you knew that it was now or never. “You should know something, Klaus.” You looked away from him again, knowing that what you were about to say would be difficult. “What?” He began tracing small circles in your shoulder. You breathed, in and out, and began. “I didn’t want to think that you’d been numb all week, that everything you said had been a lie, that you cared that little. But even then, I couldn’t imagine not staying to help you, because I had to know that you would be okay because I-” You stopped, words caught in your throat. “Because you what?” He already knew what you were about to say. “Because I love you,” you admitted, heart pounding and thoughts raw with vulnerability. You felt a hand on your cheek, tilting your face upwards and tugging you back into the reality you had to face. You didn’t want to look up or see him until you felt his lips brush softly against yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he did it again, kissing you gently and earnestly. “I love you, too,” he mumbled into the kiss. Your heart flipped and soared. You pulled away for just a moment. “Say it again.” He did, immediately, with an easy smile, “I love you.” You began kissing again, and he whispered, “Your turn.” “I love you, Klaus.” You could feel him smiling as he tugged you closer. It was wonderful, it was perfect.

#My first tua fanfiction!#It felt nice to finally be writing again #and to try out some new characters #tua #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua fanfiction #klaus fanfiction #klaus x reader #klaus #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus imagines #klaus hargreeves imagines #the umbrella academy imagines #tua imagines

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evilrubberducke · 4 years

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IzuMina Week Day 4- Closet Full of Love

Well, it took me almost a week longer than I wanted to, but I finally have the fourth prompt done. The week may be over, but I’m going to keep going till I’m finished.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418139 Or on FF.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13530836/4/IzuMina-Week-2020

Izuku was sure that the sound of his beating heart could be heard across the entire campus. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his hands felt clammy despite his numerous attempts to wipe them off on his pants.

“M-Mina,” he whispered as loudly as he dared, “a-are you almost done?”

“Just... one… second…” Mina grunted, struggling to make herself understood around the sheet of tin foil currently clenched in her teeth.

Izuku still wasn’t sure how he’d let himself be talked into the escapade. Mina was persuasive, yes, but this was a bit beyond his usual boyfriend duties. Somehow, though, she’d made it seem like an opportunity to become a better hero, instead of just pranking their teachers.

She had described it as “Training his observational skills, as well as his ability to stay cool under pressure”. He suspected she’d asked Yaoyorozu to help her come up with some fancy terms for the activities, ones that were sure to grab his attention.

In reality, she had him keeping an eye out for any teachers returning to the teacher’s lounge early, while she wrapped their desks entirely in tin foil. She’d already finished with Midnight, Present Mic, and All Might’s desks, but Aizawa’s tendency to pile things haphazardly on his desk, forming great piles that threatened to fall over at the slightest touch, was slowing things down significantly.

Izuku was about to tell her to simply leave it when his worst fears came true. The unmistakable laughter of Present Mic echoed down the hall, causing Izuku’s stomach to bottom out instantly.

He peeked around the corner as far as he dared, then whipped his head back around as he spotted their enthusiastic English teacher, as well as Midnight walking down the hall towards them. There was always a chance that they weren’t heading towards the teacher’s lounge, but Izuku highly doubted that, considering his luck.

“Mina!” he hissed as loudly as he dared, “Present Mic and Midnight are coming!”

She looked up from Aizawa’s desk with a scowl. “Nuts! I was almost done, too. C’mon Izuku, time to blow this joint!”

She hopped to her feet, grabbing the bag with the remaining rolls of tin foil, and grabbed his arm. She hadn’t been quite clear on how they would escape in such a situation, simply assuring Izuku that she had a plan. Now, it seemed, he was going to see it in action.

To his surprise and trepidation, she made her way over to one of the outside windows and popped it open in one swift motion. As she did, Izuku realized that her plan was to have them jump out the window and run for their lives before the teachers could catch them. He’d certainly pulled crazier stunts during his time at UA, but the idea of jumping out a third floor window still made him antsy.

“Mina, maybe we should just—”

“Get down!” Mina suddenly hissed, pushing him away from the window.

“What is it?”

“Hound Dog is eating lunch down there.”

Now that she said it, Izuku could hear the sounds of lips smacking vigorously and exclamations of pleasure. Apparently whatever the guidance counselor was eating, it was quite delicious.

The small seating area directly below the teacher’s lounge window was fairly isolated from the rest of campus, surrounded by high shrubbery and tall trees, making it the perfect place to eat in peace. Izuku had slipped away to sit there a few times during his first few weeks on campus when the hustle and bustle of the class got to be too much for him. He figured that Hound Dog used the space to eat freely, since the hero seemed to be a little worried about scaring people with his powerful jaws.

The sounds of eating weren’t the only things Izuku could hear, however. Present Mic’s voice had been joined by the clicking sound of Midnight’s heels as she marched down the hall. They were much louder than an ordinary pair, leading Izuku and the rest of the class that her heels were tipped with metal so that she could use them for combat, as well as for fashion.

“Got any bright ideas Izuku?” Mina asked, turning to face him.

He racked his brain furiously for a solution to their predicament. Truthfully, they would probably be fine if they were caught. Present Mic was always telling jokes in class, so he would probably find the whole thing hilarious. Midnight was harder to predict, but she probably wouldn’t do anything too ridiculous to them with her colleague right there. That said, Izuku would still prefer not to be remembered as the guy who got caught trying to prank the teachers.

If they tried to sneak out the door, they would run straight into their teachers, and the window would be just the same, which meant exiting the classroom was a no go, unless he wanted to burst his way through a wall.

Finally, Izuku’s eyes alighted on a large closet in the corner of the room. It was big enough for two people to fit inside, assuming the closet wasn’t already full, and they didn’t mind being a little close to each other.

“Over here!” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the closet.

The teachers apparently used it for coat storage, which worked out perfectly for their purposes, since there was still room for them to hide in. Izuku recognized the jacket for All Might’s suit, as well as what seemed to be a spare trench coat for Ectoplasm. Before he could puzzle through who owned the rest of the coats, Mina stepped into the closet, shoved the garments to the side as best she could, and pulled him in after her before shutting the door behind them.

It was a tighter squeeze than Izuku had been initially hoping for, and he found himself pressed tightly against Mina in order to remain hidden in the closet. His nose was pressed into her hair, letting him smell her shampoo with every inhale, and he could feel her own breath on his neck in a way that was very distracting. The tips of her horns rubbed against his forehead as well, just gently enough to remind him of their existence without irritating his skin.

He swallowed hard. This was absolutely not the time to be distracted by how pretty his girlfriend was. Instead, he ran over hero factoids in his head, hoping that they would distract him from his current predicament. They, unfortunately, did not, but the arrival of their teachers into the lounge did.

“You’re pulling my leg Hizashi. There’s no way you actually got him in that outfi— what the heck happened here?”

“Looks like you and All Might got pranked!” Present Mic said, with obvious levity in his voice, “That’s what you get for teasing the kids, instead of befriending them. I, on the other hand, am their favorite tea— oh come on, not me too!”

“They even got Shouta,” Midnight said, “Do you think he’ll bother taking the tin foil off of anything he doesn’t need to use right away?”

Present Mic snickered. “Probably not. It ‘Wouldn’t be logical’!” he said, doing a truly horrendous imitation of Aizawa.

Midnight laughed as well. “That sounds like him. How long do you think he’ll leave his desk tin foiled for anyways? My bet’s on at least two weeks.”

“Nah, it’s gonna take him at least three,” Present Mic replied. His statement was quickly followed by the sound of tearing tin foil, indicating that the Voice Hero had begun to clear his desk off.

“I’ll take that action,” Midnight said, “Hows 5000 yen sound?”

“Hah! You still owe me from our last bet. Settle up, and we’ll talk.”

Midnight scoffed. “What, do you think I’m not good for it?”

“I think you’re still sore about me calling Kaminari and Jirou hooking up.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, and he felt Mina’s breath catch. Had they really just heard that? Were the teachers betting on which members of their class would end up dating?

“Am not!” Midnight said, sounding rather scandalized, “Besides, you’re the one who’s down a pair. I still called Uraraka and Tsuyu, as well as Ashido and Midoriya.”

He shouldn’t be horrifically surprised, but Izuku still felt his stomach do a small flip at hearing his and Mina’s names come up in the conversation. The sensation only heightened at Present Mic’s reply, however.

“Called nothing! You cheated with those two, and you know it!”

“I didn’t cheat,” Midnight said indignantly, “I just put them together on a project. If that caused their teenage hormones to blossom into a relationship, well then they were probably going to end up there anyways. I just hurried things along.”

Izuku remembered the project she had mentioned well. Their class had been split into pairs and assigned to analyze a famous hero’s costume, how it changed throughout the years, and which elements had been successful and which had been mistakes. It had been quite the long term project, requiring weeks of research and many meetings in order to analyze their findings and put them together into the final paper.

It was during one of these meetings that Mina had asked Izuku out for their first date. Apparently she had gotten tired of his many blushes and general awkwardness around girls, and had decided to confront it head on by taking him on a date.

It hadn’t gone perfectly, but they had enjoyed themselves enough that they had gone on a second date the next week. And the one after that. When they hit nearly two months of consistent weekend dates, even Izuku had to admit what the rest of the class, as well as Mina, had known long ago. The two of them had become an item.

Since that point they had been pretty much inseparable, to the delight of the rest of their class. Or most of them, at least. Mineta still referred to Izuku as a traitor whenever he saw Izuku and Mina being affectionate.

And now, for the first time, Izuku was questioning all that. Did their relationship even count, if it had just been set up for a bet in the first place? He knew he cared for Mina deeply, and nothing was going to change that, but what if this revelation changed her feelings towards him? Would he even be able to handle the heartbreak?

He still remembered the day that he had finally admitted to himself that he and Bakugou were no longer friends. It had torn him apart, to the point that he hadn’t been able to eat anything for almost two weeks. It had felt like the entire world would fall apart at any minute, just like his own world had shattered.

What would it even feel like to lose Mina in the same way, to not have her constantly cracking jokes that made him snicker during class, or surprising him with hugs when he was least expecting it, or the myriad of little things that she did that made his days so much brighter.

Before his thoughts could travel any further down that dark rabbit hole, Mina’s left hand slipped into his own and she squeezed it tightly. Slowly, so as not to give away their hiding place, her other arm came up and wrapped itself around him, turning their already tight squeeze into a full embrace.

Then, Izuku felt a tickle on his back as Mina traced a finger across it. At first, he thought it was an idle gesture, but as it went on he realized she was tracing something onto his back. It took him a few repetitions to realize what she was writing, since he had to mentally reverse the characters, but when he finally did, he was glad that the darkness of the closet hid his burning blush.

She was tracing the words “I love you” over and over again, her hand sure and steady with each stroke. Her calm attitude, and the assured way she continued to tell him that she cared for him no matter the circumstances that had caused them to come together in the first place helped to calm his mind.

Slowly, his stomach began to untwist itself, and his body relaxed. He hadn’t realized how much he had tensed up just then. Or how much of the outside world he’d been tuning out.

Present Mic and Midnight had moved on from their betting on classroom relationships, and were now discussing an upcoming meeting they were both dreading. Apparently Principal Nedzu had called a surprise meeting for that weekend, and had refused to elaborate on the reasoning behind it. Apparently all their teachers were concerned about what it could be about, and were on their best behavior as a result.

It was while listening to them talk that Izuku realized the chances of Mina and him getting out of the teacher’s lounge without being seen were dropping by the second. Soon enough, it wouldn’t just be Midnight and Present Mic in the room, and if that happened, things would only get more awkward. Izuku knew he would have to explain how he had been roped into the prank, and why they had chosen to hide instead of owning up to it. He couldn’t bear to think about how All Might would look at him in such a situation.

He had already opened his mouth to announce their presence when salvation arrived in the form of one of the second years that Izuku vaguely remembered from the sports festival bursting into the teacher’s lounge.

“Professor Midnight, Himura and Mori are fighting again! They’re delaying our training, and Ectoplasm needs you to help knock them out before they break another wall.”

Midnight’s sigh was audible, even from Izuku and Mina’s hiding spot. Even still, they heard the distinctive click of her heels as she rose to her feet and prepared to break up the fight.

“Need some backup?” Present Mic asked, “Those two can be quite the handful.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Midnight said, “I swear, one of them is going to end up in handcuffs one of these days, and not the fun kind.”

“You said it, not me.”

Izuku let out a sigh of relief as the pair finally exited the lounge, leaving it empty except for Mina and himself. He popped out of the closet as soon as he thought the teachers were out of earshot, and stretched. After the tension, both emotional and physical, that he had been under, the stretch was exactly what he needed and it helped him hide the massive blush that was still evident on his face.

A quick tap on his shoulder caused him to turn around and face Mina, whose own face was dusted with lilac. She might be much better at showing affection than he was, but that didn’t mean she was immune to embarrassment. He imagined stating her feelings that openly had taken a lot of courage on her part, as well as a lot of trust in him.

It was the least he could do to respond in kind.

“You feeling better Izu—”

Before she could finish her question, Izuku stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Then, mustering every bit of willpower he possessed, he pressed his lips against her ear and whispered the words that were still singing in his heart.

“I love you too.”

He felt a sudden surge of heat rise off of Mina’s cheeks as she blushed furiously. She spluttered slightly, trying and failing to say something in response to his words.

For the first time since they had started dating, Izuku understood why Mina was always teasing him. Being able to render her speechless and blushing with just a few words was a heady feeling, and one he didn’t often get to experience. Occasionally he would make her blush by accident, but moments like that were few and far between. Now, though, he thought he might try and make them a bit more common. If nothing else, Mina certainly seemed happy about it.

Before they could say anything else, the lounge door opened with a bang.

Izuku leapt back from the embrace as though he had been scalded, his heart thundering with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. They might have only been hugging, but he still felt as though he had been caught doing something naughty.

That feeling only doubled when he saw who had walked in on them. Aizawa stood in the door, the late afternoon sun behind him somehow accentuating his normally gaunt appearance until he looked like a ghost out of one of Mina’s favorite horror movies.

“Not the ‘surprise’ I was expecting,” he said flatly, glancing back and forth between Izuku and Mina.

“S-surprise, sir?” Izuku said, his already overwhelmed brain struggling to process his teacher’s words.

“Nemuri told me there was a surprise waiting for me in here. From the way she was grinning, I was sure it was something ridiculous again, not just a pair of hormonal teenagers.”

Izuku wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He already felt lightheaded from all the excitement of the day, and it didn’t seem like things were going to be getting better anytime soon.

“You two have something you need, or can I actually get some work done?” Aizawa asked, finally stepping into the room.

Before he could get far enough inside to see his desk, Mina stepped forward to address him.

“We’re good. Midnight totally just helped us out. We’ll get going now. C’mon Izuku!”

She grabbed his arm, and started to drag him out the door. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite make it out before Aizawa spoke up.

“Ashido, you forgot this,” he said, holding up the bag of leftover tin foil that she had left lying near the window in her haste to hide.

“Oh, uh, that’s not—”

“Don’t waste my time. Take the bag, get out, and don’t try anything like this again, got it?” Aizawa said, tossing the bag to Mina.

She barely managed to catch the bag, then stared at Aizawa in confusion. “That’s… it?” she asked, obviously not quite believing this wasn’t some elaborate ruse to trick her into admitting to the prank.

“That’s it, unless you have some sort of rule transgression you’d like to confess to…?”

“Nope!” Mina said quickly, “No confessions here!”

“Thank you, sir!” Izuku called back, as Mina dragged him out of the room.

---

Shouta clicked his tongue as the two hustled out of the room, relieved that he hadn’t thrown them into a week-long detention. He had been tempted to do it, just to make an example of them so none of their classmates would get uppity and try to pull their own pranks on him.

The only reason he hadn’t was a small voice at the back of his head, one that he hadn’t heard in many, many years. It told him to relax a little, to stop being so uptight about everything and to just go with the flow.

He pulled his desk drawer open, not even bothering to remove the tin foil first, and reached into the very back to grab a yellowed and weathered picture.

Shirakumo had snapped the picture against Aizawa’s will after dragging him along on a quest to steal every chair from the teacher’s lounge during their second year. He hadn’t succeeded, of course. Eventually someone had noticed the cloud filled with office chairs floating outside the teacher’s lounge and had reported them.

The principal, Nedzu’s predecessor, had given them both week long detentions, staggered so they wouldn’t be able to pass the time with each other. Aizawa had never admitted it, but those two weeks had been some of the longest in his life. Even if Shirakumo had been the biggest pain in his ass after Mic, Shouta had still missed their interactions.

During one of those detention sessions, Shirakumo had decided on where he was going to train for his work study, as he had proudly proclaimed when he and Shouta had finally been reunited. Apparently time to think had given him the inspiration he needed.

Shouta had always wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t gone along with the prank. Maybe things would have been different, and Shirakumo would still be there. Or maybe he would have sacrificed himself somewhere else, like the brave idiot he had been.

Shouta stared at the picture, and a small smile crept across his face. Painful as the memories of Shirakumo were, he still remembered how bright the constant jokes and pranks had made his life.

“Why did I put up with you?” he whispered, already lost in recollections of a better time.

#izumina #midoriya izuku #mina ashido #izumina week 2020 #izuminaweek2020 #day four #why do i put up with you #dekumina #minadeku #fanfiction #mha #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

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The Drunken Lie

Hello! By popular demand, this is a sequel to ‘The Sober Truth’. T rating.

Thank you for reading!

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Ellie rolled her eyes, following Hardy up the path to his front door as they bickered. She’d entirely lost the thread of the ‘discussion’, more focused on disagreeing with him for the sake of riling him up. While once it would have been for the enjoyment she got from listening to him rant and rave in that Scottish accent, now it served a... better purpose.

She licked her lips.

“All I’m saying is,” he snarled, yanking open his sliding door, “don’t make promises I have no intention or interest in keeping! Just because you’ve got a bleeding heart-”

Hardy cut himself off, staring inside the door at his house, and she frowned. Leaning to the side she peeked around him, smiling even as her heart fell, their plans evaporating into smoke. “Daisy! What’re you doing here?”

Nudging her stunned partner out of the way she bustled inside, greeting the girl with a well-received warm hug. The teenager had cut and dyed her hair since the last time she’d been back to Broadchurch, and Ellie admired the short, straight, fluorescent pink hair. “This looks lovely!”

“Thanks, Ellie,” Daisy grinned, raising a curious eyebrow at her father. “I’m trying not to be insulted by how disappointed you are to see me, Dad.”

“Of course I’m happy to see you,” he recovered, hugging her close and shooting Ellie an apologetic look when his daughter couldn’t see. “But, erm, why are you here?”

He led her to the couch, Ellie dithering in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt but sorry to lose, among other things, her dinner date.

“I… needed a favor. From both of you,” Daisy added, when Ellie moved to leave.

“Anything,” she promised, perching on the arm of the chair while Hardy settled next to his daughter.

Hardy shot her an exasperated look of warning, before turning his gaze on the teenager. “Are you in trouble? Or… trouble?”

“What? No! And, no! Dad! Jeez,” Daisy complained, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “Come on!”

“I just… wasn’t expecting you. What’s going on?”

The teenager took a deep breath, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Um, remember how Mum’s getting married?”

“Yes,” he said shortly, and Ellie nodded in agreement, biting her lip to hide a smile. She honestly couldn’t care less about Tess’s impending wedding, but the initial news had been what had pushed her and Hardy together – for that, she’d like to thank her. Maybe.

Well, probably not.

“So, I’m supposed to be in the wedding, give her away, whatever.”

“Okay?”

Daisy fidgeted with a ring on her middle finger, turning the band and sliding it off and on. “Well, I just found out why they’re getting married.” She gave them both a significant look, one Ellie caught and understood immediately, shaking her head with a soft sigh. She could hardly judge though; it was the same reason her own marriage had come to be.

“Why’s that?”

Poor, clueless bloke, Ellie snorted, and he glanced between the women, confused, while they shared an eye-roll.

“She’s pregnant.” Daisy broke it gently, and Ellie watched his expression carefully only to see the confusion clear, with no hint of longing or regret.

“That’s nice,” he said neutrally.

His daughter shook her head, pink hair bouncing with the movement. “Not really – I sort of flipped out on her. Turns out it’s made her introspective, wants to ‘heal the wounds of the past’, so this new kid can… I dunno, have a place in my life or something. That’s what she wants at least.”

A gnawing feeling started low in Ellie’s gut as she realized what the favor was likely to be, and already wondering how she would keep Hardy from losing his mind.

“What d’you need with us, then? An excuse not to go?” He didn’t seem to have gotten it yet.

Daisy shook her head slowly. “I, uh, told her I refused to go if you weren’t there.”

There it is.

“And?” Hardy’s expression turned thunderous, steam practically coming out of his ears and making Ellie wince.

“She called my bluff,” she said miserably. “Said ‘fine, whatever, he can come – though he’ll be at the farthest table.’ And I said… well, I told her that you wouldn’t come without your fiancée,” Daisy’s voice trailed off, and she offered her father a tentative smile.

“My fiancée?”

Ellie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Daisy had the good sense to look ashamed. “I didn’t think she’d go for it, I was trying to be unreasonable!”

“Well, tell her you’ve thought about it and you’re a big girl, you don’t need Dad there with you.” Hardy was unsympathetic, though Ellie noticed he steadfastly refused to look at her, focusing on his daughter a bit too intently to be genuine.

“I can’t do that! Dad, please?”

“Is that how I’m involved?” Ellie asked, trying to divert Daisy’s attention away from her father for a moment so he could rein in his anger. “You said that I was…”

Daisy nodded. “Sorry, I know it’s not like that between you, but… it would really mean a lot. If nothing else, it’s a free night away, and they’re doing it all posh. You won’t know anyone but us, and you’ll never see any of them again.”

“I know them all!”

She waved dismissively, not even glancing back at him. “This isn’t about you. Chloe’ll be there too, but she already knows about the ruse so that’s not a problem. Please? Don’t make me go alone.”

Ellie sighed, but was unable to deny pleading eyes. “All right. When is it?”

Daisy winced. “This Saturday.”

It was Thursday evening. Hardy looked ready to have a stroke.

“Daisy!”

In the end, it was easier to sneak away than they'd first feared. They already had the weekend off, and if her vague explanation led her father to assume it was a work trip, so much the better.

They left the office at three on Friday, Ellie behind the wheel as they headed northeast. Despite the last time having been a good five years earlier, the drive to Sandbrook was almost like muscle memory. Of course, she thought, checking on Daisy in the backseat via the rearview mirror, this is a much different trip.

It was funny, how much had changed. Then, Hardy had been terribly ill and downtrodden, borderline hopeless, and Ellie's rage had been about the only thing she could feel.

Now Hardy was healthy, his daughter's love doing as much for his heart as the pacemaker. Ellie… she had found peace, had moved on. Joe rarely plagued her dreams, and she looked forward now, not back. The man beside her had quite a bit to do with that, even before they had started their relationship a few weeks earlier.

"I know you're not thrilled about this," Ellie said quietly, double checking the mirror to make sure Daisy was distracted with her earbuds and smartphone, "but consider how this is good."

"What good could possibly come from this?" her partner grumbled from the passenger seat, turning his head to do his own check on his daughter. It hadn’t been discussed, but Ellie was a detective – it was clear enough that he hadn’t shared his new relationship status with the teenager, one who was already upset enough about her mother’s remarriage.

She hummed. "For one, we actually get to spend the entire night together. And not just 'cause we're stuck at work. In a bed and everything."

Hardy's eyebrows rose as he considered that. "True. First time." He swept his eyes over her, sparking a low burn of desire to flood her belly.

"Free cake. I looked the place they're having it up - easily £150 a plate."

His expression fell to a scowl and he went back to staring out the window. After a minute he said softly, "You realize basically everyone at this wedding will know who I am, right?"

She did, but tried for levity anyway. "Someone certainly thinks a lot of himself."

"They'll all know about the case, and the affair, and how clueless I was about both," he ignored her. "How my incompetence let not one, but two child-killers escape justice."

"We got the Ashworths, and Ricky Gillespie. They'll all rot in prison for decades."

He smiled sardonically. "Most of the guests will be friends and co-workers. They'll all know about- Danny."

Ellie's breath caught - she hadn't even considered that possibility. Then she rallied. "Well, if they're gossiping about me then they're too busy to talk about you," she shrugged, knowing her would-be casual air wasn't fooling him.

"Miller-"

“We’re a team,” she cut him off firmly. “Who cares what people you haven’t seen in seven years think of you. And remember, we’re here for Daisy, to make this easier on her. So no matter what happens, we will focus on her. Hang the rest of them.”

When he didn’t answer she glanced in his direction, wondering if she’d somehow over stepped, only to find him gazing lovingly at her.

“What?”

“Sometimes you know exactly the right thing to say,” Hardy murmured, reaching out to brush his fingertips against her cheek and over her ear. “You’re right – this is for her.”

“And the free hotel room.”

“Aye, and that.” His expression lightened, turning teasing and a bit naughty. “You, me, two nights alone… anything can happen.”

Ellie laughed softly. “I hope you know I have high expectations.”

“Me too.”

They shared a promising grin, and despite his daughter in the backseat not knowing about their deepening relationship she felt free. Free to be coy and flirty, to bask in her new relationship. To feel like a woman, instead of just the exhausted mother/daughter/employee rut she’d been in. To wear a pretty dress, and touch her lover boyfriend significant other in public, be seen together.

She pressed a little heavier on the gas pedal, pushing the car forward. She couldn’t wait.

“Really, Daisy, it’s fine,” Ellie promised, as they stood in the doorway to Ellie and Hardy’s room. “You should be in your room closer to the rest of the wedding party. We’ll be fine.”

“But won’t it be awkward sharing a room?” Daisy hissed, keeping her voice low as she looked around for other potential guests.

Hardy let out an annoyed sigh. “Daiz, we’re adults. It’s fine. You have stuff to do with the wedding. We will see you in the morning, yeah?”

The girl nodded slowly, biting her lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” they said in chorus, Ellie trying to rein in her delight at being so close to being alone with her boyfriend in a room with a bed. And a lock. “I promise,” she said more moderately, hoping she didn’t look at happy as she felt. “Now, run along. Your mum’s waiting.”

“Breakfast is until ten. See you then,” Daisy said reluctantly, trudging back towards the lift. Her room was a floor up and farther down the hall, near the rest of the wedding party, while Ellie and Hardy’s was as far from Tess and Daisy’s as they could discreetly manage.

They waited until the doors closed on her to enter the room, setting their bags down by the wall and surveying the single king bed.

“Such a shame they couldn’t get us those double beds,” she smirked, crossing her arms and turning to him. “However will we cope?”

“We’re adults, I’m sure we can share it in an adult manner,” Hardy’s eyes twinkled, and he pulled her close, their arms wrapping around each other. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

He kissed her leisurely, the promise of the night to come making her blood sing. “We’re finally alone,” he husked out, hands smoothing along her side. “What do you want to do? Dinner? We could get a drink?”

Ellie was hardly a passive participant, and she hummed, starting on the buttons of his shirt. “I could use a nap.”

“Oh?” He moved backwards towards the bed, working on the buttons of her own blouse. “I could… cuddle you to sleep, if you like.”

She laughed, letting his shirt hang open in favor of opening his belt. “You can something me to sleep, all right.”

It was a long time before they made it out of the room in search of dinner.

Ellie’s eyes snapped open, and she inhaled sharply to find a nose a hair’s breadth away from her own.

“Sorry,” Hardy whispered, thumb drawing soothing arcs on her skin when she automatically tensed. “Did I wake you?”

She carefully shrugged one shoulder, relaxing into the mattress. Daylight was starting to peek through gaps in the curtains, offering just enough light to see his face. He looked peaceful, and happy, and Ellie let a shy smile grow across her face. She was happy too, was happy to wake up next to him, and couldn’t help herself.

“I love you.”

It took a moment for his expression to brighten further, a beaming smile spreading across his face. “Aye?”

Ellie nodded, chuckling softly. “Yes.”

Hardy leaned forward, kissing her, and she rolled quite willingly to her back, tugging him atop her. Though he’d already said the words the day they became a couple, she’d held back, pretended not to be sure.

Of course, it wasn’t so much a pretension as a protection, but when she allowed the walls around her heart to crumble, she had to quietly admit to herself that she did, in fact, love him.

She’d spent the last fortnight trying to figure out how to say it, when to say it. This hadn’t been what she’d envisioned, had hoped they’d both be dressed at a minimum, but lying there, with him, waking up in his arms…

She couldn’t wait any longer.

“I love you too,” he whispered joyfully, peppering kisses across her face. “Truly.”

“I love you,” Ellie repeated for the simple pleasure of doing so, running her hands over his back and sides, reveling in the feel of him against her. “So much.”

They missed breakfast.

Ellie nodded, working hard to keep her polite smile as the woman she was talking to wittered on about her children, or her dog, or something – she’d long since tuned her out. Hardy had left her alone at the table twenty minutes before to fetch drinks from the bar, and within a minute this woman had claimed his seat and started talking her ear off.

“Sorry, how do you know the couple?” she interrupted, mentally willing Hardy to return as quickly as possible.

“Oh, I work with them,” the woman tucked away an errant curl, grinning widely. “Known them for years. Knew her ex-husband, too, he was our DI.”

“Ah.” That caught Ellie’s attention, and she narrowed her eyes. She was certainly used to people insulting Hardy, had said her fair share behind his back during the first investigation, but felt a stronger-than-normal need to defend him. “Is that so?”

The woman nodded sagely. “Bit of a wanker. Well, more than a bit. Dave’s a much nicer bloke, if you ask me.”

Ellie pursed her lips, trying to choose her words carefully. “He had an affair with a married woman, while married himself. Not sure he’d top my list.” Quite the opposite.

“Well, apparently Hardy’s got quite the type.” She leaned closer before looking around quite obviously, lowering her voice to whisper, “I heard he moved to a little village on the coast and had an affair with a married DS down there. From what I’ve heard, he’s even marrying her. Can you imagine?”

“I’m certain you don’t have all the facts,” Ellie said coolly, reminding herself sternly Don’t embarrass Daisy and Hardy. Don’t ruin this.

“Apparently he framed the woman’s husband for murder! I always knew he was an arse, but that’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think?”

Ellie had enough, rising abruptly to her feet and snatching her purse. “For your information,” she started quietly, meeting the woman’s gaze head on, “Alec Hardy is easily the most noble, caring, principled man I’ve ever met. He is an excellent detective, entirely dedicated to bringing about justice through the courts. I am very proud to call myself his partner, and am very much looking forward to the day I call him husband. Now piss off.”

Spinning around with the intent of stalking away from the table, she walked right into Hardy’s chest.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered as he steadied her, glancing up at him with wide eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Eh, basically none of it,” Hardy shrugged, eyes twinkling madly.

“None?”

“Maybe just a bit,” he whispered, one hand settling on her hip as the other cradled her head, mindful of her fancy hairdo she’d spent a solid twenty minutes lecturing him on not messing up.

A small smile spread across her face, as the memory of the woman’s cattiness melted away and she focus on him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kissed her then, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for interpretation, dipping her slightly. If she had been capable of thinking in the moment, she’d have thought something along the lines of the newlyweds didn’t kiss like this earlier.

They broke apart, panting slightly, and without another word Hardy took her hand and led her towards the exit.

Daisy stood between them and the doors, eyes so wide she must have seen the kiss, and Ellie flushed.

Hardy, however, barely blinked, just flashing his daughter a smile on the way past. “See you in the morning.”

They pushed through the doors into the hallway, eyes meeting before they immediately burst into laughter. Wrapping their arms around each other they headed for the lift, still chuckling.

“So…” he started pseudo-casually as the doors opened, “‘looking forward to the day I call him husband’? Mrs. Miller I’m positively scandalized.”

Ellie hit the button for their floor, before turning to grin up at him.

“If that scandalizes you, you’re not ready for our wedding night.”

#bbatcfic #Broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Hardy #Miller #The Drunken Lie

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amaltheaz · 5 years

Text

2018 Fic Writing Roundup

Tagged by @whythinktoomuch (thanks friend! I haven't been tagged in so many memes as well! 😂 it's been awesome ❤️❤️❤️)

Total 2018 Word Count: 288, 271 words (holy fuck balls lmfao and this isn't counting the stuff on tumblr that I didn't cross-post 😂😂😂)

Total 2018 Hits: 139, 823 (god that's mind-blowing)

Other 2018 AO3 Stats

Kudos - 7694

Comment Threads - 560

Bookmarks - 1427

Subscriptions - 1416

Links & Titles to 2018 Works:

1. how do you plan to go about (making amends to the dead) - “My mother didn't send me to Earth to fall in love with a human, have children, live in a house with a white picket fence. She sent me here to protect Kal-El. And now I will use my powers to protect the Earth. And if I die achieving that, I'm at peace with it. I'll join my mother. We'll be together in Rao's light.” - Kara Danvers.

2. your voice is pretty, baby (but i'd rather have your pretty skin instead) - "Kara shakes her head before adjusting herself on the couch to get into a more comfortable position. She decides to call Lena instead of replying to her text. Her heart flutters in her chest at the strong thump, thump, thump coming over the line when Lena accepts her call. “Hey you.” aka part ii and sequel to pick a blossom

3. we are one under a star - prompt: meeting at a masquerade ball au

4. one jump ahead of the hoofbeats - "Kara isn't having the best day. Her heart is racing fast and hard and she doesn't know how much longer she can run away from the palace guards. The loaf of bread that she st- liberated - from the baker’s stall is getting heavier by the second and she needs an escape since like, three blocks ago." aka the accidental Aladdin au

5. see how bright we shine - "Kara isn’t too sure what exactly is happening with her day. She knows that she has her Supergirl duties, if it was a weekday then there’s CatCo and then somewhere in between all of that, there’s Lena. There always has to be Lena in her day. It’s a rule, a very important rule. To make her day better, Lena must be in it." A twist on the fake dating trope

6. the brightest colours fill my head - "I do require some assistance.” There's a levity in Diana’s tone that lets her know that it isn't anything serious or life-threatening and so Kara sits back down in her chair. “Of course! Name it,” she replies easily, always so happy and willing to help a friend." Kara and Diana go out for dinner in the pick a blossom 'verse

7. Bet You Didn't Know That - What she doesn't know, she doesn't need to find out (also the faberry fic that took eight years to finish lmao BUT I FINISHED IT)

8. did you mean it (when you said i was pretty) - "Lena takes a deep breath to steady herself before she finally dares to look up. Dark blue eyes meet her gaze and she tries to swallow down the dry feeling in her throat, tries to see why Kara is looking at her like this because she's sure that friends don't do this." aka my own little twist on that friends with benefits au

9. we watch as our young hearts fade (into the flood) - Lena-centric one-shot where she takes a self-defense class

Favorite Fic

- I feel it might come as a surprise but the one-shot I did of Kara/Sam fake-dating just because I've wanted to write for them for the longest time. Fwb au does take a very close second just because of how much love it has gotten from so many people and that's been so humbling for me as a writer

Hardest Fic

- BYDKT has definitely been the hardest one just by the sheer fact that it took me eight years to finish and I was literally two chapters away from finishing it

Do you plan on taking prompts in 2019?

- I actually have a few prompts left in my inbox but I definitely would still take prompts anyway just so that it'd give me something more to do

What was the best thing about 2018?

- I'm gonna piggyback on Sunny's answer because for sure, the best thing has been befriending fic writers, complaining about procrastination and how hard words can be sometimes, giving/receiving sneak peeks into fics/chapters that haven't been published, sharing fic ideas that really basically start with "what do you think of" or shouting at each other to write something even though we have a gajillion other stories to write as it is. But oh! My favorite thing about befriending other writers is the love fest. I don't know how many conversations I've had with other writers just going like "omg I love your writing you're so gr9" and they're saying similar things right back. It's just so beautiful 😭

What was the worst thing about 2018?

- There really weren't a lot of bad things for me as a writer. Maybe the only really bad thing was not being able to follow through with writing as much as I wanted? But I feel I wrote so much more in 2018 than I ever had in any other year alone so... it's not so terrible lol

Any last thoughts for 2018?

- Good. Let's do more of that.

Goals for 2019:

- hopefully finish fwb au

- Pick a blossom prequel

- Also maybe finish my The Mummy au

- modern Romeo and Juliet au

- Amnesia au

- Kara runs a food blog au

- Alien activist Kara fic

- Maybe a Sam/Kara fic???

God so many 😂

Tagging:

@pippytmi, @swashbucklery, @storycharacter, @notamyope, @bitterbones87, @kendrene, @gveret-fic, @fromanothersun, @idontneedtobeforgiven, @wakefulstarss, @myheartisbro-ken, @spicycheeser, @thelnjames, @spaceman-earthgirl and all of my other writer mutuals/followers ❤️

#az speaks #tag meme #my fics #adventures in writing #writer tag meme

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lets-get-fictional · 7 years

Note

so um my story i think is a bit too depressing, do you have any tips on lightening the mood, or at least making it interesting to read?

Thanks for your question, love! This is something I’ve always feared with my own writing, since I like to handle heavier subject matter. But never fear! I have some ideas to help you soften that depressive edge!

How to Brighten a Dark Story

Comedy — I’m not talking about non-stop gut-busting laughter here, but there’s room in every story for a little humor. Some writers sprinkle humor into their dialogue, sometimes during editing — some writers include sarcasm or levity in their descriptions (or as a natural part of their author’s voice). Some writers designate a character for comedic relief and insert them into heavy scenes… although this has backfired in the past.

Small victories — Even in the darkest of situations, writers have to pull the curtains back and show a little light. This may not be what happens in real life, but it’s part of crafting a successful story — giving readers the hope they need to continue through the story. If you find your plot is consistently sloping downward, this could be the root of your “depressive tone”. Find places to sprinkle small victories for your protagonist — positive relationship development, an advantage over the antagonist, a fun moment away from the plot, etc. Give your readers a “sneak peek” of happiness, so they know that this story won’t be a doom & gloom, Gone-with-the-Wind-esque depressionfest.

Positive characters — Even if your protagonist is a sunshiney personality, when the sh!t really hits the fan, they won’t be able to smile about it. But the good thing is that no matter how dark life gets, there are always people in it who give you a boost — people with a fresh perspective or more reserves of hope, or even people who have no idea what you’re facing and just help distract you from the bad stuff. This is where secondary characters come in handy! Use the supporting cast to counteract all your MC’s pain and suffering with humor, kindness, and maybe their own (simpler) problems to solve.

Lighter subplots — When the plot can’t be lightened up at all, and even your characters can’t put a positive spin on things, it’s time to create a distraction – so break out your romance plots, your new friendships, your awkward encounters, and that one insufferably peppy Character A who makes smoke come out of Character B’s ears every few chapters. Think back to that episode of Friends – the one where Ross and Rachel (SPOILER) are breaking up in a really devastating way, while all their friends are stuck in the bedroom with nothing to eat but organic leg wax. Sure, this is a bit too sunny for some stories, but you get the gist.

Imagery — Last but not least, the foundation of tone in fiction – the silent killer of happy times and hope and sunshine – dim imagery. The less colorful, unique, or entertaining your scenery is, the more difficult it will be to achieve a lighter mood. Writers crafting a dark story will typically lean toward nighttime scenes and old-fashioned, poor, or ruinous architecture, as well as rainy, wintry, or desolate outdoor environments. If you’re writing a story about a terminally-ill orphan in a war-torn country, living in an old, colorless house, it’s going to be pretty difficult to lighten things up. Try casually brightening the scenery in your descriptions! Even if the whole world is burning, let the reader notice the beautiful red-orange of the sky.

These are just a few ideas, but they’ve always worked well for me :) If you need more help or this doesn’t answer your question, be sure to send me another question. Don’t be shy!

Good luck, anon, and happy writing

If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask me!

#writing #writeblr #writing blog #writing tips #writing advice #my post #ask #anon ask #tone #angst #darkness #setting

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frivoloussuits · 7 years

Text

Preview: Suits/Hunger Games AU

Here’s a peek at the fic I keep procrastinating on by writing Suits 100 prompts instead, lol. Apologies in advance for any odd formatting+warnings for referenced drug use and deadly violence.

All the Capitol’s geneticists have tried and failed to produce something that can compare with Mike Ross’ brain. At three years old, he’s more literate than many of the adults around him, and he spends his days reading aloud from a dictionary, his family’s longest book, to his baby sister Jenny. His eyes, skimming over the text at stunning speed, shimmer blue like the sea, nothing like the coal and fire surrounding him in District 12.

In District 1, Lily Specter dresses her four-year-old son Harvey in his finest clothes and takes him to their city’s central park soon after winter ends. Surrounded by a horde of other children, he plays games, solving puzzles, punching targets as hard as he can, flitting through an obstacle course with all the easy grace of a spring breeze. He throws himself into the challenges with childish enthusiasm, turning downright giddy as he outstrips one opponent after another. Young as he is, he doesn’t realize these are the entrance tests for Pearson Academy, Panem’s premier training school for the Hunger Games. He doesn’t notice Jessica Pearson herself observing him from a distance.

When school starts, Mike skips particularly boring classes and instead loiters around the Hob, 12′s black market. Even though he’s too young to buy or sell anything himself, assorted shopkeepers take a liking to him, and some use him as a human calculator. When he’s not needed, he tucks himself into odd corners, soaking up old stories and the old records that Sae plays sometimes, all crackling horns and syncopated rhythm. One day he’s joined under a table by a fellow truant named Trevor, the same age as him, with a dangerous spark in his dark brown eyes.

Seven-year-old Harvey– or “Specter,” as everyone calls him nowadays– lounges in his Academy quarters, blasting jazzy music out of brand-new speakers and singing along. When other kids bang on the door and shout for him to quiet down, he simply smirks and turns the volume dial higher, because he’s added bars and bolts to his door and built a barricade from furniture to keep intruders out of his room, and nobody can stop him from doing what he wants in here.

That is, until a little redheaded girl breaks through all his barriers, circumvents all his defenses, sneaks up on him as he leans back in his chair with three of its legs off the ground, and moves as if to tip him over– only to reach across him and click the speaker’s off button instead.

As he gawps, she just raises an eyebrow and says, “Hi, I’m Donna. I just moved in next door. Shut up, please, or I won’t be so nice next time.”

In a single heartbeat, an explosion in a coal mine orphans both Trevor and Mike.

Harvey ignores the baseball bat at the back of his closet and instead brings out a dark suit. Today is the first time he’s ever been permitted to leave the Academy during school. The occasion meriting such special allowances is his father’s funeral.

When his mother shows up at the wake with another man on her arm, Harvey straightens up and tells her to go to hell. “You made a fool of Dad,” he says. “You exploited him and his legal problem this whole time, and all he ever did wrong was love you from the moment he met you. Is it so damn impossible for you to at least pretend to be faithful?”

Lily just shakes her head, torn between pity and exasperation. “That’s not how things work here, Harvey.”

In the aftermath, Mike and Jenny move in with their grandmother Edith. There’s a roof over their heads but never enough food on their plates, and the wind cuts right through the walls and their threadbare blankets to chill them to the bone.

During a particularly harsh winter, Jenny takes ill, and Trevor starts showing up at their door with extra supplies of meat and other food that he can’t possibly afford.

At the Academy, Harvey beats back his grief by hurling himself into the nonstop competition, battling all the other students who want a shot at one of 1’s Tribute spots. He regularly faces off with Scottie, a girl with flashing dark eyes and a brazen wit, and every time she forces him to the ground. When he at last wins a match, he expects her to sulk or play it off as a fluke, but instead she beams proudly at him. Then there’s Donna, who proves a damn near equal match for him. Each wins just as often as the other, and the hope of pulling ahead sharpens both of their resolves. They pummel each other with mock weapons, study for months to beat each other’s scores on Games knowledge tests, and spend every school day taunting each other.

With time, the taunting softens to playful teasing, and they gradually turn inseparable. In their rare hours of free time, they break out of the Academy and roam around the nearby city. Harvey rather suspects Jessica is aware of every time they stray outside– she seems to have a knowing glint in her eye each morning afterwards, but perhaps he’s just imagining it.

Mike starts going out to the woods with Trevor, breaking a wide array of laws simply by crossing 12’s fence. They compound the crime by poaching, hunting down animals to eat and selling whatever meat they have to spare. After some exploring, they discover a swath of wild Eufrosyne trees, and they start harvesting the leaves to sell as well. They find plenty of buyers– people seem grateful for drugs around here.

One night, they find that the fence is electrified when they try to go home, and so they are temporarily barred from 12. Trevor starts to panic, but Mike starts to plan, recalling hundreds of tricks for surviving in the wilderness that he’s learned off the Hunger Games. They end up adapting a shelter that the girl from 3 made last year and weathering the night. When the fence powers off the next morning and they return home, they find Edith and Jenny both frightened senseless.

“We’re perfectly intact,” Mike reassures them. “Nobody died!”

Trevor gives an easy smile and plants a kiss on Jenny’s lips. “Yeah, you know you can’t rid of me that easily.”

Harvey wears suits increasingly often, at interviews and dinners for fencing competitions and boxing tournaments and Mock Trials. Yet his dress is considerably plainer, just black slacks and a white T-shirt, on the day when he kills for the first time.

His victim is a patient suffering from a painful terminal illness who consented to being killed by an Academy student in exchange for money for her relatives. He knows taking her life ought to affect him– it’s an explicit opportunity to work through some of the self-loathing and moral quandaries that accompany killing ahead of the Games– yet he tries to pretend he doesn’t care. He thinks he’s doing a good job of it, until Jessica calls him to her office for a cup of tea and he winds up breaking down as he drinks it, just as he later finds out she predicted.

Days later, he’s dropped off in the wilderness with Donna for an Academy survival practical. As they huddle around their fire, in the shadow of a shelter they constructed together, she nudges him with her elbow. “I got us a present.”

“Oh?”

She pulls an old rubbing alcohol bottle out of her pack, unscrews the top, and hands it over to him. He takes a quick sniff and immediately starts chuckling. “Not quite the same alcohol it says on the label, huh?”

“Scotch, straight from Cameron Dennis’ surprisingly well-stocked cabinet.”

He grins and takes a swig. They while away the afternoon, passing the bottle back and forth and sharing increasingly ridiculous ideas for knocking off opponents in the Games, until Donna puts forth a plan with a can opener that Harvey can’t even try to top.

One bright spring morning, Edith passes away. Leaving Jenny with Trevor, Mike flees to the woods for the night, closing his fingers around the mockingjay pin she left him.

It’s impossible to ignore the Cameron Dennis problem anymore. And while Louis, the other main teacher at Pearson Academy, has his own endless issues, at least he’s not an addict.

Harvey and Donna drag Jessica down to Cameron’s office one night, when he’s out of his head with some ugly mix of alcohol and morphling, and the teacher they’ve studied under for years turns on them, slurring that Jessica ought to expel the two of them for their insubordination before lunging at Harvey. He easily sidesteps, and Jessica fires Cameron on the spot with a melancholy sigh.

“Well, that was self-sabotaging,” Harvey remarks in a half-hearted attempt at levity. “Now we’ve got to train with Louis instead.”

“No,” Jessica says sharply.

Harvey’s heart stops, as she confirms that they’ll be training in her small advanced class from now on, because she has officially decided to send them to the Games.

A few years down the road, Mike watches Dana Scott of District 1, a girl with murderous eyes and brazen confidence with all manner of deadly weapons, play in the 73rd Hunger Games. He’s fascinated in a sick sort of way, and he supposes he should root for her, if only because he’s put quite a bit of money down on her. She’s a relatively safe bet– Pearson Academy’s Tributes always start with the odds in their favor, thanks to their training and their willingness to do whatever it takes to win– and he grows more certain of her chances as the Games unfold, as images of Dana stabbing, garroting, and poisoning burn themselves into his brain. She pushes through the arena, along with her partner Vanessa, a young woman who matches her guile and skill in battle when necessary but has a sort of vulnerability about her that Mike rarely sees in Pearson students.

In between the deaths and fighting, the cameras show the coaches and sponsors and Gamemakers all mingling. Mike sees Jessica Pearson herself schmoozing with Caesar Flickerman, both wearing smiles that could kill. In the background, he identifies Tom Keller, the Capitol citizen in charge of most of the Games’ main gambling systems. The camera starts to pan away as Tom throws an arm around an up-and-coming Pearson Academy student, a young man strutting around with slicked hair and a suit that cost more than Mike’s house.

Mike rolls his eyes and tells Jenny, “If I ever try to look like that, feel free to smack me.”

“Will do,” she giggles, “after I figure out how you managed to afford anything remotely like that and take some of that money for myself.”

Mike gives her a thumbs-up.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” he says a few minutes later, rising from his seat with a yawn. “Wake me when the Gamemakers start firebombing the kids from 5.”

“How do you know they will?” Jenny frowns.

"They will.”

And they do.

Dana and Vanessa win, and they visit 12 and all the other districts on their Victory Tour. Yet the Gamemakers and academies and gamblers have already turned their attention forwards, to the 74th Hunger Games.

#suits #mike ross #harvey specter #jessica pearson #donna paulsen #trevor evans #dana scott #my fic

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therabidjackalope · 5 years

Text

A Blended Family

“Of all the stupid, annoying, ill fated, STUPID...” The dragoness grumbled angrily to herself. The tip of her tail thumped against the cold stone floor in echo of her every word.

“In all fairness, I did tell you to wait until he at least opened the door.” Came a voice from a few feet to her right. “It's that temper of yours that's doomed up both.”

The dragoness lifted her head to look at the owner of the voice. The gryphon did not bother to spare her a glance as he preened the feathers of his forelegs. His large wings bobbed briefly before settling back into place along his sides, held closed by large metal bands around the delicate appendages.

Giving a great sigh, she looked again around her cell. The spacious room had been magically carved from the very rock, it's lingering essence prickling at her senses. The bars as well as the manacled chain around her neck had been made of an enchanted metal, immune to her fire. The charred remains of their keeper lay smoldering a few inches beyond the bars, tantalizingly out of reach.

“Well, he called me a worm!” The dragon snapped irritably, the frills along her angular head snapping out to show her anger. “You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same in my position.”

The gryphon chirruped and fluffed up his feathers in response, slow to let them settle again. “He did not call you a 'worm', like some lowly grub, you silly scale-skin. He called you a wyrrrrrm. A serpent.” The 'r' was extended in a rumbling purr.

The dragon snorted. “His fault for not making himself more easily understood, then.” She once more lowered her head to the ground, the chain around her neck rattling in grim reminder of her captivity. She wasn't ready to give up on her plans to escape, but she needed some time to clear her head in order to think of a new plan.

When the gryphon began chuckling, she perked her head up again to look at him. “What's so funny over there, bird brain?” She sniped.

“Oh, nothing.” The gryphon replied with a shrug of his bound wings. “I just find it a little funny that the Great Mother would trap us together like this. I've always found the feisty ones the most attractive.”

The dragon's head snapped up in surprise, her own wings snapping open as if in readiness to fight. “Feisty ones?!” She growled.

“Tell me, scaled one,” The gryphon continued, undeterred by the warning of her body language. “Do your passions burn as hot as your fire?”

“Scaled one?!” She snarled in return. “Why you impudent little feathered furball!”

The gryphon's beak opened slightly in a smug smile. “Once you try feather, you'll never find any better, wyrm.”

The dragon's frills rattled softly as they began to vibrate. “First of all, bird brain, I happen to have a proper name.” She lifted her head proudly, nose tipping upward. “It is Ellamyriss. And you shall refer to me as nothing else, bird.”

The gryphon chortled and tossed his head, again ruffling his cream-colored feathers. “Ella it is then.” He said with a familiarity she did not share. “I have a name too. It is KrrrrrrrAWK.” The first part of his name was a deep, rumbling purr, followed by a parrot-like squawk.

“Hmph. Your name is Krawk?” Ella snorted indignantly.

Krawk shook his head, although his beak was still open in a playful grin. “Leave it to a cold blooded reptile to lack finesse. It's pronounced KrrrrrrrAWK.”

“Yeah, I'm not going through all of that.” The dragon retorted. “As I said, Krawk.”

Krawk lifted his own feathered crest amorously and winked an eye at her, lowering his beak against his neck. “Coming from your scaled lips, even that mangled version of my name is silk to my ears. It almost makes me wonder what other wonders that long muzzle of yours could be good for.”

Ella was only briefly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. “It's good for biting off the more tender bits of anatomy, for one.” As if to demonstrate her point, she shot her neck forward and snapped viciously at the empty air between them.

“Who doesn't enjoy a good love nibble.” Krawk teased, his lion tail whipping excitedly behind him.

Ella snorted indignantly. “I'm sure you'd enjoy my love nibbles all over your innards, Bird. Now shush so I can figure out how I plan to get out of here.” The rebuff delivered, she then lowered her head back to the floor, turned away from her pesky cellmate.

A soft shuffle and the rattle of chain caught her attention and made her snap her head back up in the gryphon's direction. Was it her imagination, or had the beast managed to sneak closer to her? Krawk gave a soft chitter and raised his crest again. “No reason we can't enjoy each others company while you plot. May even be good for a little inspiration.”

Ella growled softly at the gryphon, her scaled lips curling back to expose her sharp teeth in threat. “You mean like, maybe I'll be inspired enough by my desire to pummel you into a pulp that I'll magically think of some way to slip from these bonds?”

Krawk let out a screeing laugh before tilting his head at her again. “I guess the rumors are true that flying lizards like to play rough. Well,” he paused to stretch, his avian forelegs stretching out to extend his curved talons before settling back down again. “I like to play too. Gets the blood flowing.”

Ella whipped her own tail once, allowing it to slap lightly across her flank and create a slapping sound. “I'll get your blood flowing all over the place, if you don't behave yourself over there, bird.”

The gryphon opened his beak wider in a grin, his long, thin tongue peeking out like a timid snake. “Aww, but behaving myself doesn't sound like fun. You know what does sound like fun?”

“Pounding your fuzzy little marbles into dust?” Ella snapped, reaching the end of her patience with the other.

Krawk tilted his head as if in consideration although his expression remained playfully mocking. “Your paws are so eager for my fuzzy marbles, as you say? Yes, that does sound fun.”

Ella paused a moment and cocked her own head. “Are you saying you'd let me smash your pebbles, bird brain?”

Krawk let out a tittering laugh. “Oh, I'd be happy to smash them against some part of your anatomy. And you know that you would enjoy every moment of it.” He tried to flap his wings as he laughed again, but only managed to slap them together awkwardly. Some of his levity faded with the reminder of the bindings.

Ella tossed her head and harrumphed loudly. “Maybe if your pecker was as big as your ego, you'd have some kind of a chance of that.”

Krawk squawked a triumphant laugh. “I knew you wanted me. You don't need to be so shy about it.” His crest again rose and his feathers fluffed out.

“Shy? You silly feather brained beast! I am not shy!” Ella sighed in exasperation. She knew she should just ignore the pesky creature's taunts, but her own ego simply would not allow her to do so. She had a need to not only get in the final word, but to teach the annoying little pest a lesson. “As if you could even come close to the most lowly of dragons.”

Krawk squeaked in feigned offense. “Why should I want to be near the most lowly of your brethren? Only a wyrm of...” He paused a moment to allow his golden eye to roam across her length. “obviously good breeding stock could be worthy of my attentions.” The gryphon's crest folded and he tilted his head at her apologetically. “And you could certainly use a bit of attention, my dear. A few minutes of grooming and I'll have those dark scales of yours gleaming like a freshly lain egg.”

Ella nearly blew fire at the cocky beast. “There is not a thing wrong with my scales and any part of you that touches them gets bitten off, Bird!” Finally deciding to ignore her cell mate, she flapped a wing harshly in his direction, sending a blast of sand-filled air at the gryphon, then turned her attention to the chain holding her in place.

The length of enchanted metal ran from the heavy collar surrounding her neck several feet until it reached the solid rock wall of the mountain. The very links seemed to grow out of the rock itself. Ella grabbed the rattling links in a paw and gave a hard tug. Although the metal creaked slightly, she already knew it would never give. She had already given her best attempts and gotten nothing but bruises for her efforts. She glanced back at the smoking pile of ash that had once been a man and allowed herself only the briefest regret over killing him. Had she only waited until he'd come a little closer first. At least close enough that she could have grabbed that key.

“I doubt he'll taste very good now.” Krawk said, catching the direction of her glance. “Unless maybe you like your meat extra well done?”

Ella ignored him and rose to her feet in order to walk to the wall. An experimental scratch left white lines across the stone but little damage. She could try digging the chain out, but her claws were more likely to file away than the rock.

“I wonder if he would have brought fish today. I'm getting so tired of goat.” Krawk said conversationally, as if discussing the weather.

“What in the world are you jabbering on about over there now?” She asked biterly.

“Dinner, of course.” The gryphon replied cheerfully. “It's almost time for him to bring us our dinner. Although... I suppose it will be a little delayed tonight.”

The dragon's frills flapped open as she turned her head to look at the smaller monster. “We're chained to a wall in the middle of a mountain, and the only person who knows not only where we are but how to get us out is dead, and you're thinking about being served dinner?”

Krawk's bill opened slightly in a grin. “Well, I am a little peckish.”

Ella snorted and turned back to the wall, searching for any weaknesses. “You are impossible.” Another scratch. More white lines but not even a single shallow groove in the hard stone.

“Impossible?” Krawk squawked with fake offense. “Nah, just really improbable.” He let out a chuckle that resembled a series of hiccups.

“Well could you be improbable in silence?” Ella snapped irritably. “I'm trying to think here. Nesh will of course find me eventually, but it may take him a while.”

“Nesh? What's a nesh?” Krawk asked, undeterred by her mood. “What does it do?”

“Nesh is not a 'what', you air-brained idiot.” Ella shot back. She wondered if the rock wall was as fireproof as her chain. Would the human be so stupid as to overlook something so simple? It wouldn't be the first time. “He's my-”

“Oh! You mean your little human pet!” The gryphon interrupted. “I suppose he could bring us our dinner if he were here.”

“First of all, Bird, he's not my- You know what? Never mind.” She prepared to shoot a small blast of fire at the wall.

“Oh, a lover then?” Krawk said, nearly causing the dragon to choke in her surprise. “I've never thought to mate with a human before, but I guess I can see the charm. What is it like?”

Ella had never seriously considered bedding the human before, despite her teasing to the contrary. She didn't even know if it would be possible. For some reason, however, the gryphon's suggestion roused her curiosity. Was such a coupling possible? What would it be like, with such a vast difference in size between them. “I-... We've never mated either.” She finally replied, humbled for the first time since waking to find herself trapped.

For the first time, Krawk did not immediately offer a snappy reply. He shifted his head in small, jerky movements as he studied his cell mate. “Well why not?” He finally asked. “Is your pet unwilling?”

Ella gave a shrug of one great shoulder. “It's just never seriously come up before. I mean, I do tease him a bit, but-”

“But you both could use some horizon broadening.” The gryphon finished for her. “Well, I suppose I could take the burdon upon myself to assist with this task.” His crest rose again as he spoke, and the feathers along his neck fluffed out.

“You come near me, bird, and I'll broaden a few of your horizons with my fire.” The dragon snapped irritably, but there was no venom left in her voice. “If you really want to help Nesh and myself, you can do it by either shutting up, or finding a way out of here.”

Krawk chuckled softly and opened his beak in a grin. He slowly rose to his feet and stretched lazily, extending each limb individually before bowing forward and curling his tail up over his back. A chain and manacle tethered one of his hind legs to the wall just as Ella was tethered at her neck. The chain rattled with the gryphon's every movement, yet he seemed unbothered by its presence.

“I could always get out, you know.” Krawk said smugly with a toss of his head. “I just never had any need to before now. He brought food, and I can't remove the bindings from my own wings.” To emphasize his point, he wiggled his wings a little.

Ella extended her frills hopefully as she turned her attention to her cell mate. “I could snip those right off for you.”

“Of course you could.” He replied, his beak still open in a grin.

Ella's frills slowly sank back to rest against her body as she stared hard at her cellmate. “Then what's the problem?” She asked coldly.

Krawk cackled in amusement. “No problems. Opportunities.” He tossed his head again. “It's all about perspective, really.”

“Spit it out, bird brain, before your perspective is an ash pile.” Ella snapped irritably. She was eager to be free and getting tired of the gryphon's games.

Instead of answering, Krawk flopped unceremoniously onto his side, facing away from her. A moment later his head ducked down into his body and disappeared from sight. Ella sighed and turned away, her attention back on her own predicament. Melting the chain with her fire was no option. Scratching the wall with her claws had done nothing useful. Brute strength hadn't gotten her loose yet. She tried to figure out what her remaining options could be.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden clang. The dragon snapped her head around in the direction of the sound to see the gryphon on his feet again, stretching his hind legs one at a time. The heavy manacle and chain lay on the ground behind him. “How did you-... You could always-... But isn't that...” Ella stammered, her questions racing far too fast for her mouth to catch up.

Krawk let of a squawk of laughter and struck a pose. His head was help high with pride and his long body stretched out as if he had just accomplished some heroic act and was collecting his accolades. “It was nothing.” He said with a false modesty. He strut closer to the dragon and opened his beak in his familiar grin. As he came within range, he extended one folded wing until the band was within Ella's reach. “Now, if you would be so kind as to remove this, I will work on releasing you as well.”

Ella stared hard at her cell mate, unsure if she should trust him or not. “And if I take those off, what's to keep you from abandoning me here?” She asked.

The gryphon let out a loud laugh, his crest rising on top of his head. “Why would I ever leave such an exquisite creature to rot? There are still far too many fun activities for the two of us to engage in.” He offered his usual cocky grin and wiggled his wing. “If you please...”

The dragon sighed and shook her head softly. “If you betray me, bird...” Krawk merely chuckled softly and wiggled his wing at her again. “Fine. Get over here.” Carefully, Elle reached out and grasped the bound wing, pulling it closer so that she could inspect the binding. It was a simple ring of ordinary metal, easily snapped apart with her strong paws. With a single flex, of her forelegs, the metal ring split with a loud crack, then rang out angrily as it fell to the stone floor.

The gryphon let out a moan as his newly-freed wing extended, nearly smacking Ella in the face. “Ooooooh, that is so much better!” Krawk moaned. He then turned around to offer his other wing, giving the first a few experimental flaps while he waited. The other ring soon followed the first and Krawk let out a groan of pleasure as he was finally able to use his wings again.

He pranced in small circles, stretching and flapping the appendages gleefully. Ella waited, but eventually she ran out of patience. “I'm glad you feel better, but how about returning the favor so we can both stretch our wings a little?”

The gryphon froze and blinked at her as if he had forgotten she existed. He then let out a sound that was a strange mix of squawk and a mewling, then folded his wings neatly against his back. “Yes, of course, lovely wyrm.” He replied, beak opening in an apologetic smile. His talons clicked against the floor as he made his way back to the dragon, tilting his head to study the thick collar surrounding her neck. His beak opened wider and the pink sliver of his tongue rose in a silent laugh.

“What's so funny, bird brain?” Ella asked. Her tail tip whipped back and forth as she tried to figure out what the gryphon was up to and what she should do about it.

“Your restraint is a little more.... complicated than my own. This will take a little more effort to remove.” He replied. “Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit.”

Ella's head snapped back at his words. “What?! What do you mean by that?”

Krawk winked one eye at her, the corner of his beak curling upward in a cocky grin. “I mean exactly what I said. This won't hurt a bit. But it may tickle. Please try to hold still.”

Ella inhaled deeply and held her breath a moment before letting it out in a huff. “Fine. But mind yourself, bird.”

Krawk chuckled softly and placed one claw on her shoulder. “Because I'm crunchy and taste good with ketchup?” Still chuckling, he leaned in and began to prod at her neck gently with his beak, poking around the areas above and below the collar while he leaned against her shoulder for balance.

The dragon harrumphed again and settled to the floor to make the gryphon's task easier. The sooner she was out of the hated collar the sooner she could also be away from her feathery antagonist. “For the record, I abhor ketchup.”

Krawk merely chuckled again at her comment while he continued to poke and prod. Occasionally his talons would brush lightly across the scales of her shoulder as his grip slipped. She quickly grew used to his attentions and began to relax further. The gentle nudges from the gryphon's beak were strangely soothing, and the way he was gently stroking her side with his-

The dragon snapped back to attention. Stroking? She was about to confront him about his wandering attentions when she felt the soft prickle of his beak grooming her lower throat. The mixture of beak and tongue on her vulnerable flesh sent tingling currents radiating through her body. A small nip at the sensitive skin made her gasp in a mixture of pleasure and surprise.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she stretched out her serpentine neck, angling her head to give Krawk better access to his targets. His second foreleg rose to join his first, sharp talons dragging softly across her scales and leaving a blossoming trail of pleasure in their wake. Ella was surprised to find herself nearly purring. “What are you up to, crunchy bird?” She rumbled sleepily.

Krawk chuckled again. “Just working on setting a dragon free, silly wyrm.” He replied.

Ella felt her eyelids slide closed and her head began to arch backward. She hated to give the arrogant any positive affirmation, but his gentle affections simply felt too good to deny. The sensations were completely different than those of another dragon, and yet they were both relaxing and pleasurable.

When Krawk began to purr as he continued grooming around her throat, Ella had to bite back a moan. She felt the tingling trail of her talons moving closer and closer to her powerful flanks, but she lacked the will to protest. 'I knew he was up to something.' She thought to herself, curling her tail tightly against herself.

Slowly his mouth made its way around her neck and she felt delicate pricks as well as the warm sweep of tongue along the base of her spine frill. She gasped and went completely limp. The nerve-packed membrane was a closely guarded erogenous zone among dragons and had Ella still been in her right mind, she would have wondered how the amorous gryphon had known about it.

Krawk's laugh was amused but not mocking as he made his way along her spine ridge while scooting his body further toward her flanks. His talons continued to rake gently across her side, each touch drawing explosions of sensation through her muscles.

Ella almost found it funny that she, a dragon, was suddenly on fire. Her very blood felt like it was being ignited by the gryphon's touch. Her skin felt as if it was aflame, but instead of pain it was pure bliss to burn. She rumbled happily and let her body splay out as if it were melting, her legs, wings, and tail sliding liquidly across the cold stone.

She felt the gryphon positioning himself behind her, talons tracing more flames across both of her sides simultaneously. Then the sensation of feathers covered her neck and shoulders, replacing the flames there with nearly ticklish sparks.

The gryphon chirruped cheerfully as he continued to groom along her ridge, sending the vibrations traveling up and down her spine. With each second and each ministration of the gryphon, she began to feel a heat growing in her core. She was already putty in his paws. If he continued his skillful attentions, the dragon thought that surely she would be forced to ravage the creature. Not that he was likely to mind, she reminded herself.

She was just contemplating how best to jump the unsuspecting beast when she felt one of his feline hind paws nudging subtly at her flank. Without thinking, she shifted her weight away from the nudge and was rewarded with another gentle nip at her tender ridge. The next poke she felt was not a toe.

The dragon found herself rumbling in ecstasy. Every nerve ending was on fire and she was awash in a tide of pleasure. It had been far too long since she had felt so wonderful, and it was only continuing to get better.

Then she felt a gentle pressure against her thigh as Krawk gave his first experimental thrust. The new sensation of his member dragging across her inner thigh, where her scales were thinner and more sensitive, sent shivers of lust through her hind end. The gryphon was slow to retract the organ, letting it drag slowly across her skin before giving another thrust, this time finding her slit and sliding across her own tender flesh in a teasing stroke.

Ella let out a growl that was a mixture of pleasure and frustration and closed her eyes. She tried to grasp onto her fluttering thoughts, but her mind could only focus on the sensations of her body. Giving another light nip to her ridge combined with the slow drag of the gryphon's firm member across her slit nearly drove the dragon to madness.

Giving a roar of frustration, she lifted her hind legs and bumped back against Krawk, but he only laughed at her while keeping himself tantalizingly out of her way. “Are you really so eager now?” He chuckled at her, his talons scraping a little harder across her sides and sending excited spasms racing through the dragon's large body.

Feathers from the gryphon's extended wings stroked Ella's shoulders and neck, engulfing her in a soft warmth. The dragon shuddered as she became overwhelmed by sensation. But her need was only increasing with every second. Her front half splayed out on the floor, she continued to push against her new lover with her back end, wordlessly demanding satisfaction from his continued teasing.

Krawk continued his affectionate nibbles up and down her ridge, driving the dragon into such a frenzy of need that she began to whip her tail side to side, her hind claws digging deep into the stone as she humped the air.

Finally, the gryphon decided that he had primed her enough and with a tilt of his hips, thrust deeply into her folds. Lacking the length and girth of a male dragon, Ella was initially disappointed that he couldn't fill her cavity as full as she was used to. She jerked her hips hard against his own, demanding more. Instead, Krawk began to pull out.

A sharp, piercing pain filled her womb and her head jerked up as she let out a furious roar. The pain lasted only a few seconds, however, as it triggered the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. Her body began to tremble and her bones felt as if they were turning to jelly. Her eyes rolled back in her head and all she could do was open her muzzle and let out a low, wordless groan.

Again and again came the brief sting, followed by the explosion of pleasure so intense that it was nearly agony. She felt as if her very body was expanding and transforming into something else entirely. Finally she felt a splash of heat inside of her and the gryphon pulled out completely.

Slowly, the dragon began to deflate back into herself, her nethers throbbing and tingling in memory of their joining. She lay still and panted heavily, unable to catch her breath. She ignored the soft pressure around her throat that came suddenly, and then fell away with a loud clang. The relief was instant and surprising, the weight of her collar forgotten.

Just as Ella began to open her eyes, she heard a soft shuffling sound. It echoed through the mostly empty cave. Someone was coming. The dragon glanced lazily around for Krawk, knowing that she was in no shape to take on any dangers, but the gryphon was not within her limited field of vision.

“Ella? By the stars, I've found you!” Nesh cried out as he ran into her vision. “Wha- what did they do to you?” The human ran up to the bars, gripping them tightly as he stared in at her.

“She'll be fine.” Krawk replied, walking up to where her companion stood. “She just needs some time to recover.” With a single talon, he worked at the lock on the gate until it swung open. “Feel free to join us.” Ella watched as the human rushed into the cell and headed her way. Krawk then gave her a wink while Nesh's back was turned to him and closed the gate. “You must be her pet human that she was talking about.” The gryphon's beak opened in his familiar grin and his crest rose.

Ella let out a soft groan, but her thoughts were too muddled in her afterglow to form actual words. Nesh knelt at her head, giving her a quick look over, searching for injuries. “Is she ok? Was she injured? Drugged?”

Krawk chuckled and padded silently over. “In a manner of speaking.” He said. He lowered his head until it was next to Nesh's ear, his voice lowered as if sharing some conspiracy. “She went feather.”

The human lifted his head to look into the gryphon's large golden eye. “What? Went feather? What in the world does that mean?”

Krawk chuckled softly, sparing a quick glance to the befuddled dragon before looking back to Nesh. “Would you like me to show you?”

Nesh audibly gulped. “Oh dear...”

The gryphon chuckled softly, one of his wings stretching out to curl around the nervous human. “You'll never find better.”

#WIP #Fanfic #For Cuddly Scavenger

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