#one nice thing about being sick is it’s like my insomnia fades away

[that-vampire-loser]

Someone needs to tie me to my laptop and force me to write

[sin-content]

The "something" au :3

Abit of a info dump hehe

This is Cindy, she at first like all the Sins started life happy and nice but at 10 years old.. here all her family died in a car crash, normaly Sin gets left with her mom and sister but not this time. she was left alone at home due to feeling sick, but getting the news they were gone.. she felt like everyone would forget her, like by them dying no one would remember her and so this feeling gave birth to SOMETHING but SOMETHING doesnt want to kill her or anything, he just wants one thing. For everyone includeing herself to forget her and so she fades from existance getting trapped in nothing with gaster(no void in this au, just nothingness between reality and fiction), but she noticed after awhile her friends didnt seem to remember her name.. she did though, but they kept forggeting untill she was a stranger to them, she tryed to stay but couldnt, she ran away becouse of the stress and ended up underground after awhile of running, she after once sleeping and almost turning fully invisible(or not real) she developed insomnia and paranoia, she stutters alot, she noticed she was also forgetting and started repreating words to herself like "Im Cindy, Im alive, Im someone in this world.. Im not gone, Im alright, I like drawing and my family alot, they died but thats alright, ill be fine" wich being undergound made her forget even more untill.. it became "IM SOMEONE. I HAVE TO STAY ALIVE, I WONT BE GONE. IM HERE, I NEED..... HELP" but no one even remembers her! How could they help? Even in fights, after about 10 seconds they forget who she is and why theyre fighting, she found ways to remind herself she exists like scraching herself to feel it and remind herself that way, eventually she scratched too much and wrapped bandages on herself so she could scratch without hurting herself, she got a bat and knife from the undergroud for self defence...

Though everyone who meets her meets the same fate. To forget her, SOMETHING wont let them remember, or even know where they were.. someone takes many forms but.. its really just a black blob with a shape and any body of any creature and with eyes, sometimes just one but ut can have as many as it wants! No one even sees SOMETHING.. well they do but.. forget it as they forget more about Someone, she sometimes hers about people talking about SOMETHING behind her or even them.. she has a small notebook where she writes as much as possible but sometimes the ink dissapers leaveing her with gaps.. but she keeps the drawings of SOMETHING that she drew while people discribed it behind her. She has memory issues and is always on the run from SOMETHING dispite not knowing ehat it is, she has magic but its not much, just healing and fire magic, she has another two abilitys but theyre long forgotten.. maybe one day someone can remind her how to use them.. and then she can get better maybe, all she knows is that SOMETHING is always there. And if she isnt carefull she will end up not existing..

Bonus: Error!Sans could not kill her due to the forgetting thing, he would forget why he is there and who she is and the forgetting would make his strings start to fade from existance, she could never Beat Error either so a draw it would be!

Here you go Lumi abit more of the Something au

hehehe ^^

[leviiattacks]

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hey~~ could you write Annie x reader? What I had in mind was towards the end of s1 when Annie was trying to climb up the wall, could she try and take reader with her because they always talked about being together? Kinda like when Ymir took Historia in s2, and I really love your writings 💕 thanks~

TAsdfhjksfadh you didn’t specify whether Annie made it over the wall with the reader or not so uh I just kinda picked one lol hope you don’t mind

Also, sorry this is a little late, I've been feeling just a little sick for the past couple of days.

Prove It

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers

Category: Mostly angst, little fluff

Summary: When Annie was outed as the Female Titan, she didn’t have a lot of options on where to go. And, as the fight between her and Eren progresses, it becomes clear her best option is to flee. Yet, there’s just one thing she can’t leave without. And it seems the feeling’s mutual.

Words: 3.1K

That wicked laughter.

It rung through the empty streets of Stohess, abandoned specifically for this military operation.

The goal? To lure out the suspected Female Titan, Annie Leonhart. Your girlfriend.

At first, you were violently against participating in the operation. You weren’t going to incriminate her, that would be incredibly faithless. Really, you wanted nothing more than for her to be vindicated, and to prove the the world the the “heartless” Annie Leonhart is a loyal soldier, not the traitorous snake they started to make of her.

It got in your head, most certainly. Within hours of the first discussion, ‘Annie Leonhart’ and ‘Female Titan’ had become synonymous with each other, and you hated every bit of it. You always defended her fiercely, because you could only hear so much distasteful talk towards her before you started to broil over with rage.

So, you agreed. You were going to lure Annie down in to the tunnel and prove once and for all that she wasn’t a monster. You could clear her of suspicion, and the two of you would go back to your ordinary lives with each other.

And oh, if only that was what happened.

But you watched in horror as Annie refused to go down the tunnel. She laughed, laughed, when you pleaded with her to follow you, that all she needed to do was come along with you to be unshackled from the scrutiny and doubt.

But her feet remained planted in her rigid stance of defense.

“Y/n...” She slurred out, laughter finally subsiding. “I’m glad I could be a good person to you.”

The slope of fear seemed to lose it’s steadiness, and the drop-off into the pit of empty horror occurred when she held up her hand to her mouth, preparing herself for the bloodshed to follow.

“You’ve won your bet. But this is where my bet begins...!”

The signal flare fired, and the countless soldiers waiting in ambush jumped from all angles. You watched, wide-eyed and frozen, as they restrained her and gagged her, like muzzling a dog. But, it was no use. Her ring, the silver ring she never let you touch, sprung up a spike out of it’s side, and a quick slide of her thumb across the tip opened up a bloody gash in her finger.

And then came the lightning.

Mikasa had thrown her arms around you and Armin, dragging you down into the tunnel to get out of harm’s way of the transformation.

You knew she had finished her transformation when the thundering stopped, and chunks of debris rolled to a stop at your feet, stirred dust slowly settling itself back onto the stone ground. For a moment, everything stilled, and only the ragged breaths of Armin and the sheathing of Mikasa’s blades were audible.

And then something moved.

You weren’t sure what it was, until around the corner, the light was consumed by a large shadow, growing closer and closer and absorbing more of the sunlight until it rounded the corner.

A fingertip. Then the finger. Then the hand. An arm—and it was traveling down the hallway, fingers frozen in a pose as if it were trying to grab onto something, something it couldn’t see.

“Shit!” You let out a terrified yelp and took off running, Mikasa hot on your tail and Armin stumbling closely behind.

It sought after the three of you, until a distant thump could be heard. You whipped your head around and stopped running, noticing the hand—ever present, it’s finger stretched desperately in an attempt at grabbing something, but it was no use. You caught a glance of it’s upper arm, flush against the wall of the curve.

She couldn’t reach any farther.

You let out of a sigh of relief, falling to your knees and gazing at it. It’s shaking fingers stopped, finally, and went limp into it’s palm in defeat, before slowly pulling itself out. You had no clue whether it was trying to grab you, or Armin, or Mikasa, or if it was planning on killing you or not. Bottom line, it was unsuccessful.

But then more thunder.

It seems Eren finally got his cue, because the signature yellow hues of transformation shone even into the dark abyss of the wrecked tunnel.

The three of you took a deep breath and shared a collective glance. Before long, the unsaid instructions were followed, and the three of you scurried out of the tunnel to witness the action.

And action it was—the first sight you were greeted with upon exiting was that of Annie delivering a decisive punch to Eren’s jaw, sending him flying backwards into the streets of Stohess.

Eren returned to his feet as fast as he could, and let out a menacing roar as he charged at Annie, arms low like a football player preparing to pounce on something.

He charged, but her feet remained planted, arms bracing for impact.

You watched as the two of them brawled furiously. You didn’t even notice that Mikasa and Armin had left your side—you hadn’t moved. You couldn’t find it in your heart to fight Annie, but neither were you going to fight Eren. No, all you could do was watch, helpless.

The battle continued fiercely, absolutely wrecking the city in the process. Building were destroyed and crumpled, streets of stone completely upended as one or the other got helplessly tossed around.

It came to a head as the fight eventually progressed to a wide, open space of stone, and the two of them were fighting hand to hand, both of them looking worse for wear. You shot your ODM gear into the roof of a nearby building, watching the fight with a slacked jaw. You had no clue how Eren was even standing a chance to Annie, since you yourself had seen how skilled she was in martial arts.

Soon, though, a decisive kick to Annie shin sent debris and rocks flying everywhere. Annie lost her footing, tumbling to the ground with a thump.

And you had been so fixated on Annie in that moment that you failed to notice the debris, and it was headed right towards your face.

Something—rigid and powerful—collided with your head, and you fell to the ground instantly.

Your vision was already fading, and you watched as tiny streams of crimson flowed over the shingles and down the roof—no doubt stemming from the newly opened gash on your scalp.

The distant clinking of the rock as it tumbled down the slope of the roof was the last thing you heard, and the world around you faded to black.

---

Through the darkness, a memory flashed through your mind.

---

It was dark out, of course it was. Shadis would never let you have leisure time at all when the sun was up.

You leaned against an lone oak tree, fingers brushing through the soft grass idly. The air was cold and crisp, and a soft breeze flowed through the air, just barely enough to rustle your soft hair.

Annie sat silently next to you, shoulder brushing up against yours. Slowly, she slinked her hand over yours, hesitantly grasping at your hand. You entwined your fingers with hers, and she looked away shyly.

She often had bouts of insomnia, lying awake at night for hours, unable to get her body to relax. And, the first night she tugged at your nightshirt, waking you up to go outside with her, she fell asleep in your arms due to exhaustion almost immediately.

So, it had become an unspoken ritual from that day on. She couldn’t sleep, she’d wake you up, the two of you would go outside, and talk or busy yourselves until sleep inevitably caught up to her.

But today was different. For whatever reason, something had been keeping her up for a lot longer than usual. You knew something was weighing down on her heavily, but you weren’t going to pry it out of her.

Deciding to break the tense silence, you squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention before you spoke.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” You observed. You weren’t talking about the weather per-say, but the thousands of white speckled stars that dotted the sky, and the bright, full moon that illuminated the grass and dirt beneath you.

“It’s cold.” She said bluntly.

You chuckled softly, her bleak attitude was so characteristic of her.

“I guess that’s true.”

More silence.

And then she sighed, bringing your hand into her lap to cusp it in both of her palms, clinging onto it as if it were grounding her.

“What do you plan on doing later in life, Y/n?” She huffed, leaning her head backwards against the back of the tree and gazing up at the sky. “You don’t possibly plan on staying in the military your whole life, do you?”

“No, of course not.” You sighed.

“Then do you have plans afterwards?”

You paused for a minute. She raised a good point, you didn’t really think of anything after the military. Deep down, perhaps you understood that by joining the Cadet Corps you didn’t have much ahead of you. You can only survive so many brushes with death before it’s your turn to go.

“I guess not...” You hesitated, deep in thought. You swallowed a lump in your throat before changing the subject. “Why, do you?”

Even through the darkness, you could feel the shrug of her shoulders against you.

“Not really.” She muttered. “Just... stay with the MPs, make a living wage, retire somewhere in the interior, and... relax. I just wanna... find somewhere to relax.”

She paused for a second. Clearly there’s something tugging at her mind, something she wants to say. So, you sit back and wait for her to find the confidence.

“Do you promise me that... sometime, after a while in the Scouts, that you’ll come back to be with me?”

The future between the two of you was always painted with uncertainty—whether the two of you could ever truly stay together. It would be difficult, between soldiers, to be able to settle down and stay together no matter what, especially from different regiments. But you could always try.

She exhaled shakily, struggling to get the words out of her throat.

“I just can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. ‘Cause... if anything ever happened to you in the Scouts...” Her voice trailed off near the end, and you assumed she was trying to plan out her next words carefully, until you heard a small sniffle pass her lips.

Surprised, you turned to face her. She was trying to fight off the tears at the corners of her eyes, lip trembling as she struggled not to cry. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how tightly she gripped your hand.

“Annie- Annie it’s alright.” You stumbled, trying to comfort her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was upsetting her—she was scared of living a life without you.

You hooked an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to you and putting your other hand on the back of her head and guiding her to your shoulder.

“I promise you, no matter what, I’ll live. And one day, we can spend all our time together. I’ll go wherever you go, I swear.” You ran your hand through her hair, undoing the bun she kept it in and evening it out over her shoulders.

“You promise?” Her voice sounded shaky and weak, a vulnerability to it that she rarely showed. “No matter what happens to me, you’ll trust me and stay with me?”

“I promise. Of course I do.”

---

Warmth.

It was the first thing you noticed upon waking up. The second was darkness. You sat up, noticing how wet the surface beneath you was. And how how fleshy.

Your face paled in realization. You were in a titan's mouth.

You raised your arm up, cringing at the trail of saliva that connected you to her tongue.

Immediately, you searched for a way to get out. You didn't plan on leaving her behind, but you'd rather not be stuck in a place as slimy and dark as this either. However, your efforts were pointless, since her jaw was clamped shut, her teeth caging you in and preventing you from escaping. Your heart dropped a little, wondering if she didn't trust you not to run away.

Suddenly, you felt a large thump, the unexpected movement causing you to grab desperately at anything that would keep you grounded in one spot.

But then, another thump. And another, and another. It felt like running, almost, but far too slow. You pondered it for a moment, before you realized what was going on.

She was trying to climb the wall.

But then, the thumping stopped. She wasn't falling, thank god, but all movement has seized.

Hesitantly, her jaw started to open, giving ample space for you to squeeze through. A sudden thought came to you—she needed your help.

With no hesitation, you drew your blades and burst through the skin of her cheek, not even waiting for her to part for lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you immediately search for the source of the problem. And you found it in the brute of a soldier, Mikasa Ackerman.

The girl was perched on Annie's nose, staring down at her. A quick glance to your side and you realized, with horror written all over your face, that Mikasa had cut off almost all of Annie's fingers—one more and Annie would easily lose her grip.

You understood, as soon as Mikasa drew her blades towards Annie's hand, you only had one option.

You shot your ODM gear towards her, not even caring when the hook dug into Mikasa's shoulder, causing her to yelp in pain as she turned to you.

She wasn't even given a moment to process as you came hurtling towards her, colliding with her shoulder and sending both of you flying through the air and towards the ground—fast.

Despite the small voice telling you that it would be easier to just ditch Mikasa, to release your ODM gear and let her fall, you shot the other hook into the wall, and your momentum halted to a stop.

She peeled her arms away from their protective guard around her head, processing that the two of you had stopped before looking up to you in surprise. You looked back down at her, an expression of sorrow in your eyes. It hurt you to betray her, and all of your comrades, like this, but you knew as soon as Annie placed her trust in you by opening her mouth that you only had one choice.

"Y/n what are y—!"

"I'm sorry Mikasa!" You yelled, trying to put aside your emotions for the time being. "I can't... I can't leave her, I promised I wouldn't!"

You took a deep breath, positioning on your finger on the trigger, preparing to release Mikasa from your ODM gear's bloody grip in her shoulder. "I'm sorry..." You muttered, before pulling the trigger, watching Mikasa tumbled towards the ground, her betrayed expression still glued helplessly on her face.

You decided that it would only hurt you to look at Mikasa—engraining that image into your head would certainly plague you later on.

You finally turned to look back at Annie, and your heart picked up a couple paces at the sight.

Her head was turned to you, watching—waiting—for you, her hand outstretched in your direction. You smiled, firing your ODM and flying into the palm of her hand, quickly climbing up onto her shoulder to allow her to finish her ascent up the wall.

You turned back one last time, looking over at the destroyed city, and the furious and betrayed faces of your comrades. You sighed, turning back around. That's in the past now, you thought. It doesn't matter. I... made a promise to Annie, I can't betray her. I can't...

---

The line of trees in the distance grew closer and closer as Annie jogged forwards, having made it over the wall and all the way to the forest inside Wall Maria.

She slowed down to a walking pace as she neared the trees, kneeling on the ground before releasing herself from the nape of her titan. Steam flowed from her body as she immediately collapsed forwards, and you instantly lurched forwards to catch her exhausted body in your arms.

"Grab on." You instructed, waiting for her to securely wrap herself around you before you flew through the air and onto a tree branch, making sure you were safely out of the reach of any mindless titans before you let go of her.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wooden trunk of the tree to recollect her strength. After all, even as a titan, the fight had done numbers to her body.

You sat there in comfortable silence for a little bit, waiting for her to catch her breath while you idly readjusted the straps to your ODM gear.

Finally, she reached over to take your hand, grabbing it in both of hers just like she had during your conversation with her years ago.

"I'm so glad..." She sighed, voice weak and wavering. "I was so scared when I opened my mouth that you would just... run off without me."

Slowly, she shifted, wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning her entire body weight on you. You could feel some of the tension leaving her body as she sighed against you, burying her nose in the crook of your neck.

"I was terrified that if you found out my real identity, you would just leave me. I don't know how I would've handled it. I was just..." She took a shaky inhale as she continued, and you felt a few wet tears against your neck. "Scared. So... So scared..."

You set a comforting hand on her back, hugging her tighter in an attempt to sooth her.

"Annie..." You cooed in her ear. "I promised you, remember? I would never leave your side. I'm gonna stay with you for the rest of my life."

Her breathing started to calm against you, your words managing to ease her worries.

"Yeah," She sighed, pulling away from you. "I shouldn't have doubted you, sweetie."

You smiled and placed your hands on her shoulders, bringing her in for a quick kiss before wiping her tears with the back of your hand.

"It's fine. Just remember," You leaned in and hugged her, exuding a warm feeling that made Annie's heart swell with love. "I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

"God, I love you so much, you dork." She muttered, heat rising to her cheeks with a content smile.

You chuckled, "I love you, too."

MAN THIS IS ASS

This is what happens when you force yourself to write with a headache whoops haha

[agerefandom]

Something Wrong

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Regressor!Katsuki Bakugou (aka. Kacchan), worried!Izuku Midoriya (aka. Deku), worried!Shouta Aizawa (aka. Sensei), caregiver!Eijiro Kirishima, and the rest of 1A as background characters

Words: 4,000

Summary: Izuku notices Kacchan regressing in class and makes the mistake of following him when he leaves, intending to try and help. 

Content warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Dissociation. Trauma. Bullying. Prevented (unintentional) self-harm. Self-neglect. Physical abuse. Verbal abuse. Mild burns. Blood. This fanfiction raises many questions and issues and doesn’t necessarily solve all of them, although everyone receives physical care by the end. 

Author’s Note: Please note the content warnings and exercise caution when reading. I just finished the third season of My Hero Academia, and I have many emotions about the way the relationship between Katsuki and Izuku is handled by both the writers and the characters in the show. I’m also aware that their dynamic is a popular one in the fandom, and thus something I might be asked to write when I open requests again. This story was my attempt at figuring out how I felt about that. (Conclusion: I’m willing to write regressor!Katsuki with other caregivers, but not with Izuku, and vice-versa. I promise my regressor!Katsuki fics will not all be this angsty. I just had to get this one out of my system.) 

Something was wrong with Kacchan today.

Izuku spent a lot of time looking at Kacchan from day to day, since the taller boy’s head blocked his view of half the blackboard. Even in Junior High, Izuku found himself often watching Kacchan from the back of the class. He was always in motion: his leg bouncing and his fingers tapping on the sides of his desk.

Here in 1-A, many of the students had trouble sitting still. The classroom was always alive with the shifting of fabric and clicking of pens, and any students with sensory problems had to wear sound blockers when trying to get work done (Izuku himself took advantage of that sometimes, although it made his tendency to mumble a little worse).

Today, though, something about Kacchan’s tapping fingers was different. They wouldn’t stay on the desk. He kept lifting his hand to his face, tapping them against his jawline and then around to his mouth. Izuku couldn’t see what Kacchan was doing, but he knew that the other boy had often teased him for biting his fingernails in Junior High (Aww, are you sucking your thumb, Deku? I always knew you were just a baby!) so surely Kacchan wouldn’t have the same habit. And even more strangely, Kacchan kept whipping his hand down and away from his face, keeping it frozen at his side for a few minutes before his fingers started tapping against his leg and the entire cycle would restart.

There were other signs, too: Kacchan wasn’t taking notes, Izuku’s view of his notebook around his shoulder confirming that he was just scribbling random lines across the pages. As careless as Kacchan seemed, he was a good student, and his friends often asked to copy his notes. There must be something wrong, Izuku knew it.

Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night? Izuku knew that Kacchan had been having trouble sleeping since the kidnapping. He started playing loud music at all hours and snapping at anyone who asked him to turn it down, even Kirishima and Kaminari. Eventually, they had to bother Aizawa about it, and Kacchan had been threatened with his sound system being confiscated. That seemed to stop the noise, at least when it was lights-out. But Izuku could still hear him pacing sometimes.

Most of the class had nightmares about their various villain encounters, and insomnia meetups were a regular occurrence in the dormitory common rooms. It had been nice to find out that the others had been struggling to sleep since everything started. Izuku had originally assumed he was alone in the experience. Calming down after a nightmare was easier with Denki chattering about the game he was playing or Koda’s quiet presence sharing the space.

But Kacchan never came out of his room to join the others when he couldn’t sleep, and only the distant sounds of pacing and the darkening circles under his eyes allowed Izuku to notice when he was doing worse.

Shoot, Izuku had started missing some of Aizawa-sensei’s lecture because he was so distracted by Kacchan. He turned his attention back to his notes, scribbling desperately to catch up with the lecture slide before it changed. He could always borrow notes from Tenya, of course, but he didn’t like to bother his friends about things like that.

Izuku snuck another glance up and saw that Kacchan’s fingers were back up to his mouth. His head was tilted slightly down, as if he were looking at his notebook, but his pencil wasn’t moving.

Was Kacchan asleep, maybe? That wouldn’t last long: for all of Aizawa-sensei’s naps, he didn’t tolerate students falling asleep in lecture, his capture weapon quick to pull a napping student’s chair out from under them.

Just as Izuku started to worry, there was a harsh shriek of metal against floor as Kacchan pushed himself to his feet.

“Bathroom,” Kacchan blurted, and stalked for the door with his shoulders a tense line.

Confusion and worry warred in Izuku’s stomach, and he was standing before he could think twice about it.

“Same, yeah, bathroom,” Izuku said, and speed-walked out of the room before Aizawa could remind him that only one student was allowed to leave the class at a time, according to school rules.

The hall was empty, which meant that Kacchan must have taken off running as soon as he’d left the class.

Izuku paused as the door closed behind him, considering his options. There was a possibility that Kacchan had abandoned class entirely and gone back to the dorms, but he probably would have taken his backpack with him if that was the case. Usually, Kacchan went straight for the training rooms when he was upset, but they would be in use by classes right now.

In the absence of a better idea, Izuku decided to check the nearest bathroom and see if Kacchan had been telling the truth.

Izuku’s shoes squeaked quietly against the hallway as he approached the door to the boy’s bathroom and pushed it open. The sound gave him away, but he distinctly heard a gasp, followed by a sharp sniffle.

“Kacchan?” Izuku called out, letting the door close behind him.

There was no answer. Izuku walked fully into the bathroom, easily picking out the stall that Kacchan was hiding in. It was the only one with the door closed, but Izuku could see that Kacchan had pulled up his feet to avoid being seen. Something was definitely wrong, he’d never known Kacchan to be this desperate to hide.

“Kacchan, are you okay? Are you sick?” Izuku approached the door, straining his ears. He could hear Kacchan’s breathing, familiar from the years they had spent together.

“Fuck off, Deku,” Kacchan snapped.

Izuku could hear the tears in his voice, and something like curiosity unfurled in his chest. He hadn’t seen Kacchan cry in years. Izuku was the crybaby, and Kacchan was the one who got to tease him for it. What was going on?

“What’s wrong?” Izuku leaned against the line of sinks, staying in front of the stall. “Did something happen?”

“I told you to go away!” Kacchan shouted. “Nothing’s wrong, you idiot. Fuck off!”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Izuku told the stall door. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would get to the bottom of this. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Deku…”

Izuku could hear the warning in that growl, but he ignored it. Just as he always did.

“Come on, Kacchan.” Izuku tried a softer voice. “It’s okay! I’m not gonna make fun of you.”

Kacchan started to laugh, and something in Izuku’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t a good sound. It was strangled and getting louder, the tears abandoned for hysterical cackles. Izuku shifted to standing, but stayed in front of the stall. Maybe he was getting somewhere?

Sure enough, the lock clicked open, and the door swung inwards to reveal Kacchan.

Kacchan was standing on the floor now, his uniform even more rumpled that usual. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears still streaking his cheeks.

“You? Make fun of me?” he managed between the harsh laughter. “Deku, you wish.”

Kacchan stepped forwards, and Izuku knew what was going to happen only a second before his hand wrapped around Izuku’s neck and pushed him back into the line of sinks. Pain shot up through Izuku’s spine from where the edge of the counter hit his back. Kacchan didn’t stop pushing, forcing Izuku’s head to lean back against the mirror behind him.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Always rushing in, Izuku lectured himself, closing his eyes to avoid the furious expression on Kacchan’s face. He had only wanted to help, but he knew Kacchan, and knew that he was at his most dangerous when he felt vulnerable. Why had he put himself in danger?

Force of habit, said a cynical voice in the back of Izuku’s head.

“You don’t listen, huh? Everyone thinks you’re so smart, but you and me know different.” Kacchan’s hand wasn’t pressing hard enough to cut off Izuku’s airflow, but he could feel his quirk starting to heat up the air between them, the sting of a thousand sparks jumping from Kacchan’s palm. Not enough to hurt, not really enough to leave burns, just a red mark that would fade in a few hours. Izuku kept his eyes closed. Kacchan had set off one of those tiny sparks in his eye once, and Izuku had needed an eyepatch for a whole week. Of course, Izuku had spent that time pretending to be Peg Leg the Pirate Hero, but it had still hurt.

“I was worried,” Izuku managed, bringing up his hand to try and tug Kacchan’s wrist away. Kacchan intercepted the attempt, making a tight fist around Izuku’s hand.

“Worried about me? You should worry about yourself, pipsqueak. You know I can take care of myself.” Pop pop went the tiny sparking explosions, starting to hurt the tender skin on the underside of Izuku’s chin. Those little burns could layer up and get painful eventually.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I know.”

“Do you? Do you really, Deku? Then why did you follow me?” Kacchan shouted, and Izuku felt spittle hit his cheeks.

“I don’t know!”

Izuku pushed out with his free hand, and was surprised when Kacchan’s grip on his throat subsided, the other boy stumbling back. He opened his eyes and saw his hands sparking, the power of One For All coming to his defense.

Kacchan had only been pushed a few steps back, and he was grinning now.

“You want to fight, shitty Deku? That why you followed me here?” The same little sparks were going off in Kacchan’s palms, flashes of light that made Izuku’s throat ache just watching them. At least they were away from his skin now.

“I don’t want to fight.” Izuku dismissed One For All, feeling the buzzing energy dissipate from his body. Kacchan’s cheeks were still blotchy, his eyes wild, and Izuku couldn’t bring himself to get on the offensive against him. “I’ll leave if you want.”

“Oh, no,” Kacchan hissed. “You had your chance to leave, but you just had to see me, huh? Wanted to gloat some more. Are you happy now, Deku? Want to rub it in?”

“I… no!” Izuku waved his hands in front of his face, feeling his eyes widen. “I’m not gloating! What? Why would I be happy that you’re sad?”

One moment, Kacchan was glaring down at Izuku with sparking palms, and then his face suddenly crumpled. His eyes closed, and he curled inwards, his quirk turning off as his hands went to grip his elbows. “Fuck,” Kacchan muttered. Izuku was close enough to hear his breathing hitch. “FUCK!” he shouted, and brought his hands up to his face, sparks flying again, this time against his own skin. It didn’t affect him, of course, his skin resistant to his own fire, but Izuku automatically started forwards. Kacchan’s eyes were still vulnerable, and he could damage himself.

The movement caught Kacchan’s attention. His head snapped up again, and Izuku could see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Deku?” Kacchan asked, and he sounded… confused.

“Y-yeah, it’s me,” Izuku said. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t-” Kacchan shook his head, bringing his hands up to his face again.

“Careful!” Izuku stepped forward and caught his hands, keeping the sparking palms away from Kacchan’s eyes, even as the tiny explosions started to burn Izuku’s fingers. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”

Kacchan had frozen under Izuku’s touch, but Izuku could feel his hands shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he echoed, and his voice sounded wrong. Tense and tight and young. “What’s wrong with me, Deku?”

“It’s okay,” Izuku said. “You’re okay. It’s just anxiety, I think. Just breathe, okay?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Izuku didn’t see the attack coming this time, as he was pushed back against the mirrors for a second time. This time, the push was less controlled, and he felt the back of his head hit the mirror with a cracking noise. Hopefully, that was the glass.

“Kacchan!” Izuku reached out, trying to grab his shoulders. “It’s just me, it’s okay.”

“Shut up!! Stop trying to… COMFORT ME!” Kacchan shouted, and backhanded Izuku across the face. The sharpness of the pain made Izuku gasp, but it was easy enough to bring his head back up. “I don’t need your help! I told you to leave!” And Kacchan hit him again. “I told you to leave me alone!”

This is familiar.

The sour smell of the bathroom, the hard line of the counter pressing into Izuku’s spine, and the surrender to the pain of blows to his face. Usually, it had been Kacchan with a number of other boys, two of them holding Izuku’s arms, but Kacchan had never really needed the physical backup. Izuku was helpless enough on his own. Quirkless, couldn’t even stand up to a friend. Couldn’t stand up to one person. The burns, the bruises, the feeling of floating above himself as the pain became sharper yet somehow more distant.

I’ve been here before.

Izuku couldn’t remember the first time Kacchan hit him. He felt like it should have been a turning point in their relationship, like it should have made him see the other boy differently. But Kacchan had always liked to hit people. Like heroes, he said, practicing his Detroit Smash on all his friends. Like heroes, he said, when he tied Izuku upside-down and left him for the teachers to find. He just wanted to be like a hero, and heroes talked with their fists.

Izuku could feel tears on his cheeks as blood filled his mouth, but he hated the tears more than the copper taste on his tongue. He hated that crying had always been his first line of defense. When he was excited, when he was sad, even when he was angry, he could barely speak through the tears that rose up and choked him. It was just more for Kacchan to mock, calling him a baby, calling him weak, calling him useless.

I’ve never been anywhere else.

Izuku couldn’t tell if Kacchan was using his quirk or just his fists. The sharp impacts felt the same at first whether his hands were on fire or not, the heat of the pain blocking out the deeper burns. He would only know later how bad the damage was, whether he would need to hide his face on his way back to the dorms.

It was a shock when the punches stopped.

Izuku stayed where he was, leaning back against the counter. He didn’t know if he could move if he tried. His arms felt numb, his face stinging, and his head was distantly aching. He could see through his eyes, but it felt like he was watching from a long way away as he watched Kacchan draw back and wipe his eyes.

They had both been crying this time. That was unusual.

What happened next was even more unusual.

“I’m sorry,” Kacchan whispered, then turned and walked out of the bathroom.

There was silence.

Izuku drew in the first breath he was aware of, and stood up. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He turned and saw the splintered mirror behind him, blood streaking down it. Head wound. That explained the warmth soaking the back of his school uniform. They always bled a lot. He could see the shattered pieces of his reflection, a red puffy face and tears still rolling down his cheeks. It would be a few hours before the burns and bruises really become visible. For now, he was just red all over, as if he’d gotten a bad sunburn. By tomorrow, everything would be a rainbow of white and red and green-red-brown, but for now… it didn’t look so bad.

Izuku limped out of the bathroom and walked towards his class as quickly as he could manage. He knew he would disrupt the lecture, he knew the broken mirror would be charged to his mother, he knew it was going to suck to open the door, but it didn’t matter. He needed help.

Sure enough, Izuku pushed the door open and was met with a collective gasp from the class.

Aizawa was kneeling in front of Izuku before he knew what was happening, his hands resting gently on Izuku’s shoulders.

“Were you attacked?” Aizawa demanded, his eyes flickering over Izuku’s face and back to the door he’d walked through.

Izuku ignored his teacher, shrugging under Aizawa’s hands and dragging himself towards the person he came for.

“Kirishima,” Izuku said. “You need to find Kacchan, he’s really upset and I’m worried about him. I think he might be in danger. He wouldn’t listen to me, but… maybe you can help.”

Kirishima’s face swam in Izuku’s vision, shocked and concerned.

“Did he… are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Izuku smiled. “Please just find Kacchan.”

“O-okay?” Kirishima said, and Izuku stepped out of the way to let him leave.

“Deku!” Ochaco’s hands were the next to land on Izuku’s shoulders, less carefully than their teacher. Izuku fought the urge to flinch and smiled at her. “Did Bakugou do this? Are you okay? Oh my god, you’re bleeding a lot…”

“It’s just a head wound,” Izuku explained. “They bleed a lot.”

“Do you have a concussion?” That was Tenya in front of him now. With how much his vision was swimming, it probably was a concussion.

“Don’t worry!” Izuku said, trying to wave them off, but then Tsuyu was also in front of him, looking worried. “I’m okay! I’m sorry for interrupting the lesson!”

“He looks like he’s gonna pass out,” Denki commented.

“I’m not going to pass out!” Izuku said. “I’m fine!” He had a concussion, sure, but he’d gone to class with a concussion before. He would probably miss most of the notes, but that was okay. He could catch up later. “I need to text Kirishima…”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Aizawa was there again, looming over Izuku’s classmates. Izuku winced, dropping his eyes to the ground. He was definitely going to get in trouble. “Everyone, back to your seats. Stop crowding him.” Izuku moved to obey, but Aizawa’s hand blocked him. “Not you, Midoriya, stay where you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” He risked a glance upwards and saw Aizawa’s unreadable expression, his mouth more downturned than usual. “I should have… I thought I could help. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a hero, Midoriya,” Aizawa sighed, and Izuku had never heard anyone say the word ‘hero’ with so much weight. It didn’t sound like a compliment. “Of course you thought you could help. Can you walk to Recovery Girl, or should I carry you?”

“I can walk, sir! But I really don’t need to visit Recovery Girl. She… doesn’t want to see me anymore.” Izuku winced, thinking back to all the times she had threatened to stop treating his injuries if he didn’t stop visiting so often.

“That isn’t her decision,” Aizawa said in a tone that allowed no argument. “Her job is to treat our students. And my job is to protect them. Now, for the rest of you, I expect you to behave while I’m gone. Start any more trouble and you will be expelled when I return. I’m not lying this time.”

From the dead silence that met his words, no one doubted him.

“Come on, Midoriya.” A hand was offered, wavering in Izuku’s reluctant vision. It took him two attempts to accept the hand, his depth perception all but gone. Eventually, though, Aizawa’s fingers wrapped around his, and Izuku was led out into the hallway. Aizawa’s grip was gentle, but Izuku could still feel the callouses on his fingers and palm, the marks of a lifetime of hero work.

It was easy to focus on that warm sensation as Izuku stumbled down the hallway after Aizawa’s long-legged strides, his head spinning.

“I really am sorry, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Save it until it’s time to tell your story,” Aizawa told him. “I won’t make you go over it while you have a concussion, but we’ll talk after.”

“Okay,” Izuku said meekly.

I hope Kacchan is okay, Izuku thought as he followed Aizawa into the elevator, trying to stay on his feet as the world spun around him.

--

Eijiro leaned back against the wall, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

Katsuki was curled up with his head on Eijiro’s lap, his favourite stuffie tucked under one arm. Eijiro’s cheek hurt, where Katsuki had gotten a strike in before Eijiro’s quirk had been able to protect him. Eijiro’s quirk was what made him able to be Katsuki’s caregiver, able to stand up to the worst of his tantrums. And today had been a bad one.

The walls were scorched, and even Eijiro’s hair was blackened. Eijiro had tried not to fight Katsuki, but eventually he had to protect the room from being set on fire. It was always awful, holding Katsuki down as he screamed threats and struggled and wept. But eventually, the tension had drained from his body and left him sobbing, and Eijiro had let his skin soften and pulled him into an embrace, Katsuki melting against him.

Katsuki had fallen asleep as soon as he’d stopped crying, and Eijiro had no idea what mood he would be in when he woke up: ready for another fight or craving cuddles and nostalgic cartoons.

Eijiro thought of Midoriya’s face, all red and wounded but trying to smile, waving away Eijiro’s concern and worrying only about Katsuki.

We can’t keep going like this.

Midoriya didn’t deserve the treatment he got from Katsuki, they all knew that, but there was nothing they could do. Katsuki turned on his friends just as fast, accusing them of taking the other side. Eijiro only knew bits and pieces of the pair’s history, and it had always disturbed him, but… it had never seemed like his business. Now he wondered if he should have put his foot down sooner.

Something was wrong with the two of them. Midoriya, all bloody and raw and waving them away with that innocent smile, as if he didn’t feel the pain at all. Katsuki, desperate for affection, screaming as Eijiro’s arms had wrapped around him, struggling until he was too exhausted but accept the simplest kindness of human touch. Constantly lashing out at anything that tried to help him.

Eijiro had always wanted to stand by Katsuki, but sometimes he found himself scared of Katsuki’s actions and where it would lead them. He wanted to believe that he would stand up to Katsuki if he ever went too far, but…

The image of Midoriya’s tear-streaked, smiling face flashed in Eijiro’s mind again.

How far is too far?

Eijiro closed his eyes and tried to push away all the big questions. He needed to rest so that he could be ready for whatever mood Katsuki would wake up in.

Maybe they could figure this out. Maybe he could ask for help, explain what’s going on. Someone else must know better than him. He was only fifteen, after all. How was he supposed to help, really? Why hadn’t anyone stepped in already? It felt like something was terribly wrong, but maybe this was normal. Was he worrying too much? Was he worrying too little?

Eventually, Eijiro managed to fall asleep like that, sitting up against the wall with his thoughts running in circles and Katsuki’s head resting softly in his lap.

[saundraswriting]

S.C. Books Chapter 2

Summary: Eren and Levi spend more time together. Levi begins to see what Hange meant the other day about the shitty hand Eren had been dealt. Eren gets overwhelmed and heads to his comfort place.

Warnings: A graphic depiction of a nightmare and panic attacks

Notes: Hey guys! I hope you still are enjoying this fic. I am trying my best, and I hope that is enough. I have a very rough outline that I am not staying with so this is kinda rough and on the fly! This story references my high school career which ended in 2013 and my college career which ended in 2014.

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Eren took detailed notes as the professor lectured on large muscle groups. The class only had 5 hours a week for roughly 12 weeks to go over all the semester's information. The human anatomy and physiology 1 class was often broken into a lecture and lab portion, roughly two hours long. The discussion today was muscle groups and tendons and ligaments. The class moved quickly, causing Eren to over do his notes and readings to prevent confusion. It helped a bit that he had some art background, he knew groupings, and that he dad (was)is a doctor. Eren knew that even though he was taking good notes and paying attention he wasn't retaining a sliver of information. It was too much too fast but that is why for this class he blocked off extras study hours.

"Okay. That is enough for now. Let's take a quick 15. We still have a lab I want to get through. and it can be a doozy." Professor Nanaba clapped to get everyone's attention and the relief was palpable. Eren and a few others decided a short walk wouldn't be amiss. The science hall was quiet this late at night. There were a couple offices with lights on but not much else. Eren was walking on the second floor while reading and noting his two short stories for the next essay for his English class. The 15 minutes of literature and scrawled first impressions helped shake his mind of the fog that had been creeping in since the beginning of his A&P class.

The lab portion was helpful in reaffirming his knowledge of the muscular and skeletal systems of a human. His art background helped a bit too, he was able to make detailed drawings in his notes. When the lab was finished a short test was given, Eren loved and hated only have one class a week for this subject. It was the advanced class for a reason, meaning the pretty much did a speed-run of a week's worth of learning in a handful of short hours. The pace forced him to pay attention but anxiety sometimes caused him to fixate on the subject leading him to crunch other classes.

Once released Eren headed to the home he shared with Armin and Mikasa. The three of them had pitched together money from each of their inheritances from passed relatives-Armin from a wealthy grandfather and Mikasa and Eren from their parents-to buy a small cheap house not to far from the university. It wasn't anything special, came mostly furnished and they were able to thrift for the rest. It was home and that was enough. All three of them had more than enough to live on, especially with school being completely covered by scholarships, but they had decided in their junior year that life would be better together and better in the future. So they made do now to prepare for a better tomorrow. Eren walked the familiar route home, trying to remember if he had anything to do before getting to bed. He had gotten a lot done at the shop that day, Levi's small unprecedented visit helping a lot with his productivity.

Eren got home and quietly came through the door, trying to minimize any noise he made. 'Why did he pick today of all days to sit with me? What made today special?'Eren thought. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to relax the scrunch he knew he was making. 'Maybe he wanted to be nice? Maybe it was a trick? No, he seemed to genuine to be messing with me. He doesn't often work the counter, maybe he was just checking on me?'Eren thought. A tidbit of the conversation he had with Hange crept into his thoughts. '"I will say, I haven't seen him sit down and enjoy a conversation like today in a very long time. So treasure the fact that you are important to Levi Ackerman, for that is no small feat."' Eren blinked at his reflection in the mirror, shaking his head. There was no way, Levi Ackerman was interested in him. Levi was so smart and witty and intriguing. Eren was a bratty child who lost both his parents in a fit of mental anguish and is only getting by. Eren finished getting ready for bed, feeling uneasy about the direction of his thoughts. He knew he needed to sleep, he hadn't slept well the last few days. He couldn't do it again. Tomorrow was at least a shorter day. He had class solid from 11 to 4 then he was done. Maybe he could sleep in a bit and try to forget that Levi even look twice at him.

Eren didn't remember his dreams, on the days he dreamed that is. Other days he would wake with a burning throat and the sensation of viscous liquid creeping over him, the brownish red color of dried blood all he could see, screams ringing in his ears. Those days he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, the fear and anxiety and guilt forcing him to stay awake and try to not break down. He would sit counting his fingers and breaths for what seemed hours, hands gripping his hair, trying to resist pulling, sometimes he spent the early dawn hours in his and Armin's shared bathroom the shower too hot or too cold or hugging the toilet in-between vomiting episodes. He would sit silently, pushing it deeper and deeper down, until the acid in his stomach could dissolve it into nothingness. The was no trigger that he could find that set of the nightmares, he refused to tell anyone about them or the following panic attacks. He just waved off the rough nights as insomnia and stress from school. Eren knew he wasn't fooling many of his friends, if any, but he knew it was more trouble explaining it then it was worth. Today he was Lucky, he woke up in his bed to his alarm, violently. He was covered in sweat and was shaking, tears on his cheeks and throat sore. It wasn't a good night but Eren had worse ones.

The house empty, typical for a Thursday. Eren went down the stairs to see a message on the board about taking out the garbage, his class last night and breakfast being in the microwave. Eren puttered around the house, doing chores and eating his breakfast and getting ready for class. When it was time to leave Eren made sure he had all of his stuff and headed off to his classes.

He spent the hours he had in class diligently taking notes and meticulously planning his due dates. He didn't have the luxury of slacking for a second, if he missed one thing, he would be scrambling to catch up. He was in his last class of the day, his mind drifting to thoughts of S.C. Books and the hot owner. He was trying to just get through until he could get off campus, the panic attack he had in the morning was lingering in his trembling fingers and jumpiness. He just had to get through his last class. Eren's reputation in his friend group was the hot head that liked to pile on the pressure. He was smart and hard working but didn't know when to quit. He had a tendency to snap on a hair trigger and not much brought him back down. Most of his friends from high school went to Trost on scholarships, a few making the 50% cut instead of the 100%.

Class had just let out, he was the first to the door, blowing off everyone's calls to slow down or watch it, he didn't even snark back at Jean's remark for running into him. He was on a mission, it looked like a million ghosts were on his tail. Jean was known for priming Eren's trigger out of a sick sense of friendship, he seemed to be able to tell when Eren needed to blow off some steam, but he had never seen him look like that. 'Something is up with the dumbass, and I want to know.' Jean sent a text to his boyfriend Marco and made to follow Eren. He only got as far as the quad before he lost him in the crowd so he made his way to his next class.

Eren had blanked as soon as class was dismissed. He needed a quiet place. He couldn't go home Armin and Mikasa would only hover and make him feel worse. Campus was too noisy, he didn't want to risk anyone finding him. There was only one place to go, He could practically smell the tea and coffee and see Levi standing in front of him, small and compact and worried.

"Hey, brat. You okay? You look terrible." Levi's voice cut through the beginnings of him panic. Eren blinked. He was at S.C. Books, he had ran all the way there.

"Levi? How-When. I. What?" Eren could only gasp and stutter. He could feel his focus and awareness fading and brightening as he stood there. He looked around and saw people staring at him, causing him to shake more.

"You two good? I'll handle the brat." Levi didn't look away from Eren who was obviously not fully there. He came around the corner, slow and careful, it set Eren's teeth on edge.

"I am not made of glass. I am fine. Just give me a minute." He snapped. He took a couple deep breaths but could still felt like he was forgetting something.

"Okay. You're fine. That is why you came racing in here like the hounds of Baskerville were on your tail and also why you look like you are a million miles away, cause you're fine." Levi said. He took a few more steps closer. "I don't know what is wrong, but I want to help. You come in here looking like this or like the weight of the world is on your shoulders too much. I want to help you. What do you need?" Levi asked him quietly. The shop was slowly losing interest in their going-ons. Eren relaxed more they stopped paying attention.

"I'm fine. I had a bad dream this morning and it lingered. I got through class and just needed to come here. Sorry for making you worry." Eren rubbed the back of his head embarrassed.

Levi looked at Eren, lightly shaking, eyes glassy and unable to focus, breathing a little too fast, complexion just a shade too pale. 'This kid. He needs someone to take care of him.' Levi sighed, eyeing the way he slouched and curled in on himself trying to be smaller. ' I want to be the one to do it.' He blinked and shook that idea out of his head. "You table is open. If you want to sit down. I can join you if you like. If not, we can sit in my office for a bit. You look like you could use the space." Levi felt his eyebrows furrow. 'The fuck? I never let anyone in my office. What am I thinking' Levi looked at Eren for an answer.

"I would like to say your office, but your face is begging me to refuse that option. I very much appreciate the offer though. I do. I think I'll sit down for a bit and study. Maybe that will help soothe my nerves." Eren shuffled his bag a bit, seeming to hesitate. "Think you could join me? I could use the quiet company." Eren looked shy, like he expected to get rejected.

"Yeah. We can do that. Give me a minute. I'll get us some tea. and a few pastries, you could use with a little more weight on your bones." Levi nodded his head to Eren's usual table. Eren nodded a few times too many, still not completely aware. He flashed a shaky smile at the employees working, Petra and Molbit. Eren sunk down ungracefully into his chair, trying to ignore the gazes of the other patrons, he could feel them on his skin causing his breath to hitch. He began running his hand over the scar on his arm, up and down trying to use the motion to soothe himself.

"Eren, you with me, brat?" Levi asked from several steps away. He knew the kid was not having a good day and did not want to be what made it worse.

Eren looked up, eyes wide and shining, he looked a mix of grateful and pleased that Levi came back. He didn't even look at the two plates and mugs Levi was carrying until he placed them on the table and Levi wasn't sure what to make of that expression that was for him and only him. "Levi, thank you. I am sorry I caused such trouble. I have been coming here for a while, it was the only placed I could think of. I have been dealing with this just fine until now, so I don't know why all of a sudden, it was too much." Eren said, Levi could hear the confusion and frustration in his voice.

"Eren, I am honored that you think of my shop as a safe space. That means a lot. Now, why don't you eat and drink your tea. You need to take a breather and then we can crack open your books or we can talk for a while. How does that sound?" Levi nudged the plates and the tea he had the other day closer. Levi pulled out an iPad and continued working on some orders that he needed to finalize before the end of day. Levi looked over the top of his iPad to see Eren fire off one quick text and then turn his phone off.

Eren cradled the mug like it was the only source of warmth he ever had, it did help ease the trembling in his hands. Eren did as asked, sat silent and still, letting the tension drip off of him like water. After he cleaned his hands-with a small smirk to Levi who pretended to be distracted-Eren broke a few pastries in half, nibbling on some here or there. 'Can't this kid just accept the handouts, like why does he have to share?' Levi wondered.

A few more minutes and Eren looked less like he was going to pass out or be sick, so Levi decided it was time to move on. "Brat, you done?"" After Eren nodded he took away the dishes, paying no attention to his employees. "Do you want to talk or work?" Levi asked. He was fine with either one but couldn't deny he wanted to hear what spooked Eren.

"I have a tendency to panic or freak out when I am struggling, I can even be completely apathetic. Sometimes, I can't sleep. Some days it takes everything I have in me to breathe and some days I am fine. I have gotten better with learning coping skills and keeping busy is a big help but so has finding a place that hasn't been touched by the things that make my bad days even worse. Some times, school or home or my friends or my sister is enough to make a day turn sour. That isn't helped by my nightmares that lead into panic attacks at any given time of the night. Last night was more of the same, and when I got to school it was a little more then I could bear and soon I found myself sprinting to the only place I knew could make me feel better." Eren said. He spoke matter-of-factly, not wanting to Levi to think he was whining over his situation. Eren had come to accept that his life was better than some but not as good as others, but he was surviving. Levi's lack of response made it easier to talk.

"I think one of my friends tried to follow me here, they all worry over my mood swings and weight fluctuations. I don't have it in me to explain everything. I can barely gather the nerve to tell you this much. You've been so good to me for so long, letting me stay late or come in early. You treat me so kindly and don't badger me even though I know you and the others here are concerned. I really can't thank you enough. I don't know if I would be here without you Levi. So many days I have come in here, ready to end it all and then you call me a brat or make your not-jokes with the others and I am reminded all over again that I have everything to lose if I give up now." Eren reached over pinching Levi's sleeve between two fingers. He waited until Levi looked up, eyes shining wetly. "Levi, thank you so much. You are very important to me."

Levi let out the breath he had been holding the entire time Eren was speaking, his whole body softening. Levi hadn't softened for anyone in years, people pissed him off with their selfishness, and germs, and rudeness, and lack of gratitude. But here was this brat of a kid, trying to thank Levi for things he did all the time unconsciously. He could feel the warmth of Eren's gaze and appreciation fill him like the sun. "You're pretty important to me too, brat. Not many people just go along with my shitty humor or terrible honesty or overwhelming idiosyncrasies. I could thank you too. You don't remind me what to live for per se but that it is okay to live." Levi said. Eren blinked at him in surprise, mouth gaping. "Anyway, let's move on. You had class today, and you were pretty checked out earlier, why not get to work. Pick something light and go from there. I'll stick around for a bit. The quiet will do you some good." Levi suggested.

"Yeah. You're right. Today was practically useless, I can't afford to get behind." Eren pulled out his planner, muttering under his breath as he looked through it. Levi settled down in his seat, to wait out the kid who had been dealt a shitty hand. And if sometimes while he was working Levi took exaggerated breaths to help Eren pace his or Eren lightly pressed his fingers to Levi's wrist to measure his pulse, no one was around to comment on it.

[xx-eatmyheart-xx]

Here's the third chapter! A little darker than the previous one, but the worst has yet to come 🌸

@obsessedandthirsty

-Abigail

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3 - Negative Thoughts

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN, Y/N?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK"

"Nath for fuck's sake would you please stop being an asshole for one minute and shut the hell up? What will twenty dollars change, uh?"

You were so confused. Why would someone throw a tantrum like that one over someone else's money? You didn't give Arthur all of your daily earnings, you just wanted to do something nice for him, Jesus. You had paid his agent only for a couple of hours of the clown's services, but he insisted on helping you till the very end of the day. All you did was give him a couple of cupcakes and twenty freaking dollars as a thank you.

Twenty dollars, not something like one hundred or one thousand.

T w e n t y.

What was your boyfriend's problem?

"WELL, HONEY, HERE TWENTY FUCKING BUCKS CAN SAVE YOUR FUCKING ASS FROM FUCKING STARVING!"

"WELL, flash news Mr. JERK, I am paying my own bills, food and rent, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with my money and if I choose to starve to thank a friend than that's my fucking problem!"

"a friend? A FRIEND? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS NOW? HE'S A FUCKING CLOWN! HE WORKED FOR YOU FOR LIKE ONE FUCKING DAY! "

"I KNOW! BUT GUESS WHAT, HE'S TEN THOUSANDS TIMES NICER THAN YOU AND I'M GRATEFUL TO WHOEVER WORKS WITH ME! I'M NOT LIKE ALL OF YOU ASSHOLES THAT TREAT PEOPLE LIKE TRASH JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE A LITTLE MORE MONEY THAN US!"

Nathan really didn't have enough time to reply, you body was quicker than your mind and your mouth moved on its own as soon as your legs stood up. All of if, all of them, it was so stupid, it made you so sick. Money money money, why couldn't they care for something else? For someone else?

Disgusting.

"I don't give a single FUCK if you think that was too much or unnecessary, the only thing I'm questioning here is why I'm stuck here, having this stupid ass conversation with you over my stupid money! I hate it! I hate money, I hate this fucked up system and I HATE YOU!"

The slap was quick and unexpected. Your cheek was burning, your face was turned left, your eyes were wide open, but your expression was pure and clear nothingness.

Not a sound could be heard, not even all of the shouting and all of the horns from the streets. Time stopped for those two minutes of complete silence, all you could be able to think of was how much you would've liked to stab that man's eye with the pen you had in your dominant hand.

You had already went through that shit all of your life back in your hometown and certainly had no intentions of dealing again with that kind of crap, not in what you wanted so bad to be your new life.

"Babe I-"

"Good night Nathan."

"Y/n serious-"

"I said good night, Nathan."

You stood up and went straight to the door of your little and cozy place, which had suddenly become freezing and uneasy. The tall man was glaring at you with what resembled anger, but nonetheless followed you and stormed out of the door, almost making your hanger fall on the floor while snatching away his jacket from it.

Gotham abruptly appeared unsettling through your closed eyes.

"America? Cupcakes? What the fuck are you talking about y/n? Are you out of your fucking mind? I paid for that degree of yours you ungrateful bitch!"

'Used to that' would've been the perfect words to describe your mind in those moments.

The sting that was pinching your cheek, though, was familiar too but it did hurt every stupid time.

You let your back hit the now locked door of you apartment before allowing your numb body to slump to the ground. Your left hand managed to reach the switch and turn off the lights, in that time your knees had been brought to your chest and the free hand was making sure to keep them there. As soon as the left arm was secured around your legs, your forehead found rest on your knees and your thoughts started to gallop.

"So fucking stupid. So. Fucking. Stupid. What did I do to deserve a daughter like you? Who did I fucking piss off to have you as a punishment?

You're so fucking-"

-----------------------

"-tired man, are you okay?"

"Yes Gary, I'm okay, I just didn't get much sleep"

Arthur's smile was sincere and tired, he really couldn't sleep that night.

'Thank you for today, Arthur, I hope you won't be too mad at me, but I really wanted to thank you for your help, I had no idea a "first day" could be that busy. You didn't have to stay all day but you did, so please accept the money as a professional thank you and the cupcakes as a friendly one.

Y/n ❀'

The little flower that you had put at the end of your name was stuck in his brain and the man couldn't bring himself to think about anything else for his own good.

"Friendly", did that mean that you were his friend now?

Could he really say that he had a friend?

Your handwriting was such a cute one, so clean, so refined.

The radio was talking to itself, voices were expressing their concerns about the worrisome trash alarm as the brush softly painted his face white. For a split second, Arthur shamelessly imagined the brush bristles as Y/n's fingers.

What would a caress from her feel like?

Would he ever get the chance to hug her?

"Hey kid, why are so you absent-minded? Did the Cupcake Lady pay you an 'extra'?"

One of his colleagues' tone was almost disgusting to his ears, but everyone else did apparently find it funny, cause now they were all snickering. What did they mean? They weren't talking about money now, were they?

"She's been really nice to me, I simply had an episode of insomnia"

"That bitch can't even take a compliment, how would she give him an 'extra', uh?"

Randall didn't really need to say that, he had no rights to talk about Y/n like that. Arthur could feel the discomfort starting to crawl through his insides, up to his throat, as it started to take his breath away.

He hurriedly stood up with his makeup finally done, grabbed his things and marched to the exit before the so hated laugh could have the better of him, leaving his clown fellow with a bitter comment.

"You're just mad cause she almost had you fired."

-----------------------

Fuck him, fuck everyone.

Arthur's mind kept on repeating the same mantra over and over again in his ears. A strange sense of power had taken over him after the little comeback he managed to spit to Randall, but the feeling had slowly faded away, leaving enough space for the memory of the day before to play in his head.

Y/n had just suggest to Hoyt to keep and eye on Randall's behavior and that had turned into a good old scold for the not so good and not so old man, and in Arthur's opinion that was not enough.

He deserved to get so much more.

But Randall had just kept on saying mean things to his dear Y/n, and he did nothing.

He wasn't enough.

The streets were as crowded as usual but the scrawny man had no problems walking through them with his mind full of thoughts and his eyes lost in the concrete. Unjustified guilty was gradually taking over him and all of his thoughts seemed to race in his head without any kind of control, abandoning a heavy cloud of confusion behind them. It was like he couldn't focus on anything, not even his final destination, Kenny's Music Shop, which he had already passed without even noticing.

What was she doing?

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - 11 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You sat with your eyes closed against the steel of the airship. You didn’t like it. Flying that is…there was no connection to anything, and it made you feel off balance.

You focused on feeling the cold steel imagining it was earth…perhaps a mountain…you had traveled enough of them in the last few months to remember how the cool stone felt at night. It helped a little…but turbulence was a cruel bitch…

“Dammit…” You muttered wiping a hand over your face before opening your eyes.

“You know…mediation works better when you’re calm.” Your eyes snapped up at the white-haired man sitting across from you. He stared back unapologetically.

“Fuck. You.” You growled at him.

“Language…you call yourself a lady…” Ravus smirked as he pulled out an apple, something that had been making your stomach churn daily, and took a big juicy bite out of it.

You stood to your feet clenching your fists at your sides as you opened your mouth to speak, however, you didn’t get the chance to as Aranea stepped, “Alright…calm down. One lightening storm was enough in this rig. Ravus, take yourself and the fruit to the cockpit.”

“Happily…” He stood up taking another obnoxious bite.

You growled again stepping toward him, but Aranea stepped in your path, “Let it go…”

“He does it on purpose!” You snapped at her, “He knows exactly how I feel about the smell!”

“I know, and I will talk to him, but I can’t have you blowing a gasket when we’re 20,000 feet in the air again.” She told you sympathetically, “And it’s not good for you or you baby to get so worked up.”

You clenched your jaw a hand went reflexively to your belly. Six months pregnant…almost…you had been on the run for four months and you were losing count between getting sick and moving around so much. Never staying in one place for too long for fear of being noticed.

Four months of small check ins from the man you loved. No conversations, just account transfers to take care of you, while he helped Noct get the rest of the royal armory and blessings of gods. You felt so alone among soldiers who only wanted to protect you for the profit it gave them…mostly.

You took a deep breath trying to relax, “…please tell me we can call him, even just a word…”

Aranea frowned shaking her head, “No…they’re supposed to be reaching the capitol in the next week or so. They had to take a few pit stops along the way…I wouldn’t want to risk alerting the empire to their location, when they are this close.”

“I’m sick of waiting around…” You shut your eyes making a face a wave of pain erupted in your back, “There has to be something to do.”

“What is it?” The Commodore stepped closer to you concern evident in her posture.

“He’s kicking a lot today…I don’t think he likes being this high up.” You leaned against the wall making a face.

“You should sit…I’ll get Wedge to come take a look at you and we’ll figure out where we can land…” Aranea told you as she stepped away, “I’ll get you some tea too…”

“No! No tea! Your tea is…gross…” You called after her as you stepped toward the chairs.

You made a face taking a deep breath as you stopped halfway shutting your eyes tightly putting a hand on your side, “Dammit…buddy come on…you gotta give me a break.”

“Give me your hand…”  You opened your eyes seeing Ravus holding a hand out to you.

“Why would I give my hand to you?” You took a deep breath in through your nose as another wave of kicking ensued.

He stared at you for a moment before stepping toward you. You stepped out of his way only to see him follow you. You glared and then tensed as his hand found your back as he scolded, “Quit…dancing around and let me help you.”

“Ravus…you have never once offered to help me…” You stared up into his eyes standing firmly in your spot as Ulric began kick boxing with your kidney, “And despite you volunteering to be an escort because you feel you owe me in someway for helping your sister…we aren’t friends…”

“No, we’re not, but…” He sighed helping you over to the chairs, “I remember when my mother was pregnant with Luna. She would have the most painful expressions sometimes, when Luna started to kick. I promised if I ever had a child, I would make sure the mother would not be alone during such times…”

“This is not your child…” You eased yourself down before you looked at him taking a seat next to you.

“No…” He shook his head a little before he hesitantly began rubbing your back with his one hand. Warmth spread through tense and sore areas, you had forgotten how good touch felt, “but I don’t see myself ever having the chance…so I will amend my promise to the situation at hand to alleviate you of your pain.”

You shut your eyes hanging your head a little as his one hand moved up to your shoulders, “I…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Don’t be…” Ravus shook his head smiling a little, “All my life people have made assumptions about me. Shouldn’t expect anything different from you.”

You laughed a little letting your eyes meet his, “I know what that’s like.”

“I find that hard to believe. You have an air about you that yells ‘straightforward.’” He sniped back at you.

“Quite the opposite…Where I’m from everyone expected me to be a deranged mage hell-bent on world domination, raging and bringing forth demons to destroy everything.” You looked at him frowning as a heavy weight fell on your shoulders. You had always felt like you left Thedas vulnerable by leaving it, “But…the reality of it…I just wanted to be free…I just wanted to there to be peace, and I sacrificed everything to make sure the world was safe.”

Ravus stared at you a long time before he spoke again, “The burden of leadership.”

“Yes…it was…in the end, I don’t even know if I made a difference…there was still so much dissent against people like me.” You stared off as if trying to remember it all at once, “But I know that I left my home in good hands. I know they won’t let it fall back into the way things were.”

He stopped rubbing your shoulders letting out a sigh, “Sounds like you’ve done more then any of us here.”

You let out a sad laugh, “Oh you know just a small rebellion turned into saving the world...just an average day back home…”

“Maybe one day you can tell me more about it? Hell, maybe you can help me lead a rebellion of my own. I wouldn’t mind not being railroaded by the empire anymore.” He stood up as Wedge came over with Aranea, “If you’ll excuse me.”

You watched him walk away slowly as Wedge began asking you questions. The cogs began turning in your head. It was so simple, and it could actually work. Wedge cleared you and began putting his devices back into his medical bag away.

“…Aranea…” You stood up looking at her, “How easy is it for you to find someone?”

“Depends on the person, but I usually can find anyone with a few calls.” She eyed you carefully, “I already know where your boy toy is…and I already told-”

“I don’t want to find Ignis.” Your face hardened as you crossed your arms, “I want to find Cor Leonis.”

Her eyes narrowed on you, “Why do you want to find the Immortal?”

“I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines…” You told her before you smiled, “I need to help Ignis and Noct somehow, and I think I just figured out how.”

You sat on at a table a few days later looking out toward the meteor, no longer ignited, but still a sight to behold. This place was something else. You could not think of any other like it. No matter what was going on, Lestallum felt alive.

And hot…You hated that you had to wear this giant thick cape to hide yourself, rather…hide your baby…

“Lady Trevelyan?” You looked back seeing Cor walking up to you. He smiled when you stood up taking your extended hand, “I thought you would be with the boys. When I got your message, I half expected them to be here.”

“Yeah, no, um…” You swallowed staring at him. The way he held himself told you that he wasn’t informed on the recent events. A soldier of his caliber wouldn’t be so relaxed, “I take it you haven’t heard about the bounty on my head…”

“Bounty? On you?” He waved his arm to have you sit down again as his demeanor changed. There was the commander you knew, “But you’re unreasonably nice to people.”

“Where have you been recently? For that matter the last half a year?” You watched him sit down, “At least tell me you know everything went sideways in Altissia?”

“It’s a long story…” He sighed scratching the back of his head, “And I had heard that Noctis and Luna did get married…I was sorry I couldn’t attend.”

“Well, if you tell me your story…I’ll tell you mine.”  You grunted as you threw the front of the cape over your shoulders to give you some relief. His eyes immediately focused in on your stomach, “I’ll get to him in a minute, tell me what you’ve been up to?”

You sat and listened and everything he said was exactly what you needed to hear. After he left Caem he returned to the hunters where he met up with some former Glaive. After hearing their stories he felt it was imperative that they find as many Glaive and Crownsguard as he could to be ready for their king’s return.

“So I have been managing them. Training new recruits and protecting people along the away.” Cor watched as you pulled the spoon from your mouth returning it to the large bowl of ice cream, “We’re ready to return and take back our home when Noctis orders it.”

“That is wonderful to hear.” You smiled at him before shoving the spoon in your mouth again.

He smiled shaking his head a little, “So…you’re turn. Why is there a bounty on your head?”

“Oh, I shoved the chancellor of Neifilheim into a rift hopefully to never return again. He was a deamon and creepy…” You rattled off scraping the bottom of the bowl, “Then…there’s some stuff about time travel, it gets really complicated, but the main thing is I killed Ardyn Izunia.”

He stared at you a long time before clearing his throat, “That’s…Uh…”

“Hard to believe, I know, but it’s the truth. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors at least of my sudden appearance back then...” You told him quietly, “All of which I’m happy to explain to you, but I’m hoping we can do it at a different time.”

“Alright. You called me for a reason.” He nodded leaning forward, “What is it you want from me?”

You set the bowl down looking into his blue determined eyes, “I want to take back Insomnia.”

“We all do.” He chuckled sitting back.

“I want to take it back now.” You watched as his face went blank, “If we do it, we divide their attention. Maybe enough to give the boys time to get the crystal and get out of the empire…”

“…forgive me your ladyship, but…there are at least a thousand strong in the city of Insomnia that are soldiers…that doesn’t include the MTs or their machinery.” Cor leaned forward again looking around, “I’m not saying it can’t be done, but…it will be awfully hard.”

“That’s why I’ve come to you.” You told him quietly, “I’ve experience with this type of thing as well…maybe together we can figure this out. The Immortal and the Inquisitor.”

He stared at you again before shaking his head, “You sure have a brass pair.”

“I’m protective of my family…and I’m tired of being apart from them.” You swallowed looking away as fleeting thoughts of Ignis floated through your mind.

“Okay…I’m in…” He nodded slowly, “I’m sure everyone will be onboard.”

You cleared your throat, “Good…reach out to Aranea and we’ll get things rolling.”

“Now hold on…” He watched you stand up, “You told me why you have a bounty on your head and why you called me…but you never explained…your condition.”

You smiled at him putting a hand on your belly, “Does it really matter?”

“Call it curiosity.” He smirked up to you. It was no wonder why everyone in the citadel swooned over him with that charm.

“Well…it’s not all the exciting. It happened the normal way when a man and woman…” You watched him roll his eyes and you laughed a little. It was nice to do so. You’d been around so many stiff people the last few months it was nice to tease again.

“Who’s the father, is the question I’m begging you to answer…” He stared up at you as you adjusted the cape again to cover yourself.

“…Ignis.” You watched as his posture changed and his face became very serious, “Cor…what’s wrong?”

“You’re sure Ignis is the father?” He stood up speaking in a hushed tone.

“What do you take me for?” You glared at him a little, “Of course I’m sure it’s Ignis…”

“You’re coming with me.” He began looking around as if he was on a detail.

“Cor, what is going on?” You pulled your arm back when he tried to take it.

He looked into your eyes as he spoke quietly, “Your child is currently second in line for the throne of Lucis.”

“No…how?” You took a step away from him as a sinking feeling seeped into your shoulders.

“Ignis…” Cor stepped with you suddenly becoming extremely overprotective of his charge in front of him, “is Noct’s older, half-brother.”

Your eyes widened as you suddenly became very light head, “…wha…”

He caught you as began to fall helping you back to the table you had been sitting at, “Take a second…”

“Does he know? Do they all know?” You stared into his eyes as mild panic began to set in.

“No.” He shook his head taking your hands in his, “No one knows. Regis only told Clarus and myself. The information would have passed to Gladio and I’m certain Noct and Ignis when the time deemed it…necessary.”

“Necessary…why? How?” You suddenly began to feel sick, “This…why?”

“Regis and Aulea were having trouble conceiving a child. They worried enough that…” He sighed hanging his head, “That they invoked an old tradition where they ask their closest retainers…to bear a child of Lucian line.”

“Regis…and Ignis’ mother….” You frowned a little, “Oh my god…”

“It sounds bad…but it was considered an honor and with the medical advances we have now it’s much less intimate and more a duty…” Cor looked at you sympathetically, “It was close to Ignis’ first birthday when Aulea reported that she was pregnant. Regis knew what it meant. He had two heirs. Regis waited until Aulea was sure the pregnancy took then reached out the Scientias… At which point Roderick Scientia, Ignis’ father, vowed to raise Ignis as his own and everyone was sworn to never speak of it unless it was necessary.”

“And what makes it necessary now? Noct is fine…he’s going to be king…He and Luna…” You rambled quickly as you began hyperventilating.

“It’s only fine if they have a child…one day Noct will have to fulfill his duty as the chosen. He knows what that means.” Cor spoke realistically, “If there is no direct heir from him…the responsibility will fall to Ignis…to your child.”

He put his hands on your arms giving you a squeeze to try and help calm you down. “Y/N, I’m going to protect you and your child, but I’m not sure we can risk…”

“No.” You shook your head as a tear fell down your face. Finding out your child was heir to the throne was overwhelming, but it didn’t change what needed to be done, “No…we have to go to Insomnia. We have to help them…so they can come home.”

Cor let out a long heavy sigh before he stood up holding his hand out to you, “Then I suppose you’ll have to meet your soldiers. Think your crew can give me ride?”

[perculesspleen]

First impressions and things I love about Gerard Way's album Hesitant Alien

Okay, so I listened to the first 5 soon before I started typing this, but the rest are being listened to as I type this. Also, I know nothing about music, so my attempts at explaining the parts I love might be weird. (I say the words cool and great a lot because I apparently know a total of 4 adjectives)

The Bureau

First Impression: a rockin' bop, great start to the album

- This is a song I would listen to while getting dressed and ready to kill someone and look really hot while doing it, which is a great way to start an album.

- I can feel the strong beat and the rhythm in the words and it just makes it feel so much more forceful and I love that

- The "everybody's getting on" and then he yells "and so am I!" is just great

- I just love the contrast between the verse and the chorus with the chorus having much more melody, but still being pretty shouty

- The telephone noise or whatever it is at the end? Great

Action Cat

First Impression: It sounds like a post-break up song, but I still like it a lot!

- I'm always a sucker for intros that are just one guitar

- "don't ask a lot and you won't lose a lot" nice

- I like the way the words 'sleep', 'break', and 'make' are like, wavy?

- the emotion in "say I miss you too"? Beautiful.

- I love how it fades and you think it's the end of the song and then he goes "Hey!" and it starts back up with the "do you miss me?"

No Shows

First Impression: Honestly, the name made me think of the type of sock when I first read it. I was bopping my head while listening to this without realizing! It makes me want to dance and sing along, even though I don't know the words yet

- the 'Ooh's at the beginning are really pretty

- I love how certain words just show up a bunch, like 'treble' and 'metal', I find it kinda poetic, I guess

- after the third verse when he stops singing and there's the key change or whatever it is? Transcendent.

- I just love the guitar solo and the drums right after it

- Also, the distortion on his voice right after that? Amazing. I love it.

- the line "It's not love if it's just fucking" makes me laugh every time, for some reason. I just have to smile, I don't know why I find it so funny

- And after that when the guitar makes the screeching noise, I don't know what that's called, but I love it when guitar players do that

- Right before the singing starts again at the end he does this "a a a a ah oh oh!" kind of thing and he does it a couple more times and it's very fun to hear

- I can't tell what he's saying in the background at the end, but I like how it sounds with everything

Brother

First Impression: Okay, so I heard this for the first time a week or two ago, but my first reaction to hearing it was to start crying. It gives me this feeling of yearning and melancholy and I was listening to it on repeat for days when I first heard it.

- This song is super emotional, and I can't listen to it and sing along without crying

- Lyrics are the main thing I focus on first in a song, and I relate to and connect with the lyrics in this song so much

- I like the voices in the background at the beginning. I don't know why, but I just like when music does stuff like that.

- I really relate to "Cause I'm awake / all night long" and "I won't sleep tonight / as long as I still / hear the drums of the city rain" and lines like that because of my insomnia

- You can just hear the emotion in his voice and it kills me

- The chorus is just so beautiful

- "Does anyone have the guts to shut me up?" is another relatable and emotional line to me. There's just so many lyrics in this song that mean a lot to me.

- "there's a chance we can walk away / so hold on tight / because I won't / wait too long" just gives me hope but also explains how I want to get out of here, soon

- "Can you take me home?" just, emotional, and aaaa

- the instruments right after the "when we leave alone" are so pretty

- the whole "like strangers laugh" part at the end is so beautiful to me

- the way it changes from 'sleep' to 'breathe' in the very last lines is just, wow, there goes what was left of my heart

Millions

First Impressions: Really fun and happy sounding, I would dance around the kitchen to this. I heard this and immediately had to put it on loop and listen to it 5 more times.

- Okay, but some of the lyrics are actually really sad?

- This song has me dancing and smiling but I'm also crying about the lyrics

- "AAaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaahh" Need I say more?

- "You can use my friends" vs the "you can't touch my brother and you can't keep my friends" in Honey, This Mirror is a cool parallel

- the little shout right after "a million reasons but I need a million more"

- ^ that's a good line, btw, I like it

- "you believe in love, I believe in faith" vs the "they don't believe in God, we don't believe in luck" from Destroya is really cute because it feels like progress or improvement or something

- Mikey yelling "It was really me!" and then Gerard yelling "It was really you!" makes me smile so much. Like, I smile so huge it almost hurts and I can't help it, it's just such a cute part and I love it so so much and could go on about it for hours, I just, aaaaaa

- the chorus has me dancing, it's just so pretty and fun but also kinda sad

- this one is my favorite so far

Zero Zero

First Impression: funky and awesome!! Super cool! I don't know how to explain this one but I really like it

- Dude, this intro is wack (in a good way!)

- It does the screechy guitar thing I love!

- I'm a sucker for singing with distortion, it's just got such a cool sound

- the guitar during the second verse? Absolutely awesome.

- the line "give me social disease and give me teenage razors" is just, wow,

- and how he sings it like "RAY-zersss"

- it changes from "you are zero" to "I am zero" at the end and, Woah

- the "oh oh oh" in the back ground during that is really cool, too

Juarez

First Impressions: It's really weird at some parts and I'm a fan of that. Most of my friends don't really like my music and would definitely hate this one, but I really like it!

- there's some weird noise 3 seconds in that I can't explain but it's fun!

- I didn't know what to expect for singing, but this surprised me, I really like how his voice sounds in this

- "sing death to the crown, man" is a cool line

- the part right after that sounds really alien-like, it's pretty sweet

- I just really love the singing/shouting in this one

- the ending is super cool, too

Drugstore Perfume

First Impression: a lot softer and calmer than the other songs, it's more of a sway than a head bop. It's really pretty

- some of the songs, like Zero Zero and Juarez feel like they're rushing, but this one is calm and takes its time. I could fall asleep to this

- a tambourine? Effervescent.

- "her dreams don't show in color" is a really pretty line

- the words to this really tell a story and I love that

- the whole "gone today" part just takes my breath away

- I really love the drums in this with the bass drum at the end

- the ending is really neat

How It's Going To Be

First Impressions: It sounds hopeful and also kinda like something I would hear in a musical. I get the feeling that when I pay close attention to the lyrics it'll be sad, but the rest of it sounds hopeful

- the little drum thing after "smoke rings fit the crime"

- "I'll keep the souvenir inside, it's just better in my mind" is such a pretty but sad line

- I was right, this song is actually sad when I look at the lyrics

- "someone who hates to see me go" Oh, I'm crying now?

- "you said we'd all be dead by twenty-five" really hits me because I really can't see me living past that and I've already said that I want to die before I'm thirty

- "We're just bored you're still alive" there are so many good lyrics in this, I'm gonna be listening to this a lot to really focus in on all of them

- the ending is so pretty

Maya the Psychic

First Impression: I've heard of this song but haven't actually heard it before! It's really fun and pretty, another one I would jump around the kitchen singing. Also, it makes me think of my friend @mayograce

- I just really like this!

- the two drumbeats right before the chorus

- this one seems to tell a story, too, which I always love

- the bridge? So cool and so pretty?

- "I know you've had choices to make / but I'm with you / you're never facing them alone today" is so nice and I just love these lines so much

- the ending is really cool and sounds kind of like there's whispering, which really fits with the rest of the song

Television All The Time

First Impression: It feels different from his other songs in the beginning and then comes back to sounding like his other calmer songs. It has a really nice chorus

- I like the way he sings "who you are"

- like I said, the intro sounds kinda different, but then after the first stanza the guitar joins and his voice sounds slightly distorted and it's a cool effect

- the pause before he says 'today'

- his voice is kinda swoop-y, I can't think of the right word, but it's relaxing and I love how it sounds

- the way "cuz I think I'm sick of it now" sounds is awesome

- it just sort of trails off at the end, but I love songs that end leaving you wanting more

Don't Try

First Impression: I had a feeling this one would make me cry, and I was right. He sounds a lot like he did in MCR. Like, most of his solo stuff feels a lot different than MCR did, but this one is really feeling similar, to me.

- This start? Amazing. It kinda spooked me at first, but I'm liking it

- The lyrics are really cool

- "I think you're beautiful too" is when I first realized this song will make me cry

- "Come down, give up, cause it's alright" is when I started crying. It's really comforting. Being told that giving up is alright isn't heard often. This line makes me think of Fake Your Death ("I choose defeat, I walk away") which is another song I love

- "cause you always look mad when you're dreaming" really hits me for the 2 ways I can interpret this line. The first is how when I space out (and dream about getting away) I focus and it makes me look mad. The other is that I look mad because I hate where I'm at and that I have to wait to go out and chase my goals.

- his voice has so much emotion in it, it's amazing

- "I'm kind of miserable, too" is another line I love. It's great when someone you look up to (and obsess over sometimes, lol) understands what things are like. It makes you feel less alone.

- the entire chorus is just so pretty and makes me so emotional

- the ending is super pretty, too

PINKISH

First Impression: Woah. I don't really have any other words, but I really like this one, it's a good finale for an album.

- the first few seconds sound like a thunderstorm when you're inside

- I love the sudden yelling, I really like loud music like that

- and then the next part with the "Now I could have been" sounds so pretty, and the guitar is doing almost the same thing as his voice and then there's the background vocals and I really love it

- it shifts back and forth between the sorta screamo and the sorta clearer, more lyrical part again and it's so cool

- and then gets even clearer and calmer and more melodic it sounds like something I could fall asleep to? Beauty

- then the loud guitar comes back in until the end and it's just great

- definitely a good ending to the album

I loved this album so so much! I'm probably going to listen to it on repeat for the next few days...

My favorite song is a tie between Millions and Don't Try

But yeah, that's my view on the whole album!

[timeforelfnonsense]

VI The Chariot

What’s this?! Elf wrote something?!?!

Here is the first two chapters of book VI for my Arcana fic! 

Ao3

The soft brush of lips against his own. The feeling of finger wound through his hair. The smell of sweet, smokey sent of alder hangs thick in the air. The dream comes to him the same as it does every night since he had fled the city three years ago. Perhaps longer though, if that was true the memories were now lost. “Be careful.” She hums between kisses, “The palace is a dangerous place.” He chuckles burying his face into her curls. He breathes her in, the familiar smell of saltwater and clove filling his nose. “Don’t worry about me.” He assues, placing a kiss atop her head, “With the palaces resources, I’m sure I’ll find a cure in no time.” “I swear if anything happens to you...” She bites her lip casting her gaze to her feet, “I- I just don’t attach myself to people, you know? I’m not built like that… But if I ever did… It doesn't matter. Forget it.” “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be at a loss for words.” He tugs her closer. His heart aches to see her lips without that dazzling grin of her’s, “I suppose I just have that effect on people.” Still, her brows knit together they way they always did when she’s upset. Tears threatening to pour from her amber-gold eyes. He watches her reach into one of the pouches hanging from her hips. She produces a small sachet filled with delicate purple and white flowers. She takes his hand in her own, placing the sachet into his palm. “It’s a protection charm, angelica and heather.” She offers him a sad smile that feels too much like a goodbye, “Something to remember me by.” “I hardly think I could forget you.”

A sharp pain hits his temple. He winces, eyes squeezing shut. When they open he is in the palace dungeon working into the early hours of the morning. He glances over at the letters piling up on his desk. Reports from the city of the rising death toll. He’d been here for nearly six months and he’d yet to make any progress. He stopped responding to her letters months ago. It was better for them both this way. He couldn’t afford any distractions. She was beautiful and enchanting, with many options. He reminds himself that she had told him once that commitment wasn’t in her nature. She had told him many times before she had fallen into his bed of her many love affairs and casual dalliances. He closes his eyes imagining her on the deck of a ship once again. Grinning ear to ear as the sea spray hits her cheeks. How many times had he imagined her that way? Before he came to this dungeon of horrors he had always pictured himself with her. A lopsided smile tugs at his lips. They would have made quite the pair of swashbucklers. Perhaps they’d join Mazelinka’s crew? Or after the plague was nothing but a bitter memory, he’d buy her a small ship. She’d take him to all her favorite ports as he would her. The sharp feeling returns and he finds himself standing on the shores of Lazaret. He chokes on the heavy smoke. She stares into his soul her eyes dyed scarlet. Ash falls from the sky and clings to her shroud. Her face is sickly pale, her curls thinned. He tries to get closer. To call to her but she slips away. He feels the memory of her fading no matter how hard he fights it. Her voice, her face, her laugh all slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Julian!” He wakes on the floor of Mazelinka’s hut, tangled in bed sheets. Cold sweat trickling down his neck, his breaths still short. Loss and longing pulling at his heart though he can’t quite recall why. “Julian, are you alright?” Fable rushes past the shabby curtain to his side, “It sounded like you were having a nightmare “Ah, that would be because I was having a nightmare.” She takes a seat beside him on the floor, tucking her legs underneath herself. She reaches over to the nightstand, producing a flask made of olive green glass from her bag. She uncorks it with her teeth before passing it over to him. The rum tastes of cinnamon and cloves, warming his whole body as he drinks. It’s stronger than he would have expected, more the kind of drink he’d expect to find on a pirate ship then in a ladies bag. He thinks back to when she had found him at the Raven, how at home see seemed despite her home in the nice part of the city. He glaces over at her, handing the flask back. “Why were you out of bed? I didn’t wake you did I?” She shakes her head, knocking back a swig of rum for herself. “No, I was already up.” She corks the flask and shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep.” “Oh? Hmm. Lucky for you, I’ve got some experience in the field of insomnia. Have you tried lying in bed consumed by ever mistake you’ve ever made? If that doesn't work you can try pacing and muttering to yourself. Or feverishly writing letters you’ll never send. They won’t put you back to sleep but they’ll pass the time.” He offers her a wishful half grin, “I wish we had more time. But I’m just being selfish aren’t I?” He pulls himself back onto the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” She inquires, golden eyes burning into him with a look that could strip him bare. “Ah can’t keep anything from that piercing gaze, can I?” He sighs, “Do you believe in forgiveness?” She arches a brow, “Forgiveness?” “Do you- Do you think even truly heinous things can be forgiven? Or are there some things you don’t get to come back from?” She sits silent for a few moments. He can see the gears turning in her head as she thinks over her response. “I think it depends on what and why.” She finally responds, “Sometimes life forces you to do things you don’t want to because it’s the only way. Some things are unforgivable but not many. I do know you can’t stay frozen though. Life has to go on.” “I just wish I could remember… then I’d know if I did something unforgivable.” “What will you do if you have?” She retorts fingers worrying the hem of the loss fitting shirt. “If I can’t make it right… I’ll take whatever punishment I deserve. Without question.” He shakes his head and lets out a dark chuckle, “Well isn’t this a dour conversation. Five cups of coffee and I’ll get the pep back in my step.” He patts the space in the bed beside him throwing the bedding back. Inviting her to join him. She crawls into the the sheets, tucking herself under his lean arms. “What’s the world like, outside of the city?” She asks, looking up at him though curly lashes. “Not had much cause for travel? I’m surprised honestly. You seem a worldly sort.” He pulls her a little closer, “I’ve been all over. What do you want to hear about the pirate ships that plague the Frozen Sea? Or maybe the priest lords of Firent? Ahh I could tell you the tale of the floating city of Hjalle-” His ears go red, “Ah, maybe not that one. It’s a little compromising.” She giggles, “I hardly think you could offend me.” She pauses for a moment, “Tell me about where you grew up?” “Nevivon, a little town south of here, in the salt flats. It’s known for its salt water hot springs.” His tone nostalgic, He absentmindedly runs his fingers through his hair “I haven’t been back in a spell and once Pasha left I didn’t have much reason to go back.” “Do you miss it?” “I suppose I do. Do you miss your home?” She is clearly not from Vesuvia. Her accent, her style of dress are distinctly forging perhaps somewhere southern? The points of her ears indicate elven heritage, a people not often seen in Vesuvia. “I suppose I must.” Her response is a bit hollow. Her voice ringing with uncertainty. He can sense the building tension. “How about I tell you about the time I stole a pregnant war elephant?” He watches the tension ebbed away with her laughter. “But only if you promise to still have some respect for me.”

She’d nodded off halfway through his second story. She now dozed softly beside him in the little twin bed. Her head resting against his bare chest, loss ringlets tickling his skin. He traces the line of her collarbone with his index finger. She was so small. Waking, her bold presence seemed to add a few inches. He watches the way her chest rises and falls with each slow breath. It’s strangely mesmerizing. He places a peck on her exposed shoulder. “Beautiful…” He whispers before placing a lingering kiss on the line of her jaw. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone this badly in all his life. She’d only been in his life for a short time, yet it felt as if she had known him for ages. She was fearless and strong and oh so painfully lovely. Panic seizes him. He can’t keep her… He was selfish to even consider asking her to stay. He should have insisted she take the bed and slept in the hole. He’d put her in danger by encouraging her advances. If the countess found out… A chill runs down his spine. He slips out of bed, untangling himself from her limbs. He needs air. He needs to be away from her. To shake himself free of his love sick haze. He slips his jacket and coat on glancing back at her sleeping form. Careful of the creaking floor boards he dips out of the hut.

[darkling-er]

Hope’s Savior ( John Seed x OC ) | Part 9

Summary: Trinity-Hope Johnson finds herself in the middle of a holy war, leading the Resistance, while having a complicated relationship with one of the cult’s herald. And she thought her first case would be easy. Oh how wrong she was!

Pairings: John Seed/Fem!Deputy, John Seed/OC, Earl Whitehorse & OC ( uncle&niece ), Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy ( kind of ), might add more later

Warnings: mild language, violence, eventually smut, masturbation, oral sex, you know guys the usual, use of drugs ( bliss and other, thanks to Sharky ), fluff ( does that even need a warning? ), manipulation, angst, mention of mental illness ( insomnia, depression ), mention of child abuse ( from John’s side ), torture, I think that’s it? I swear it’s not so bad!

Word Counter: 1681

Notes: some angst coming up, because I’m a cruel person *nervous laugh*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |  Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | MASTERPOST for the others

Hope sits at the bottom of the ‘YES’ sign, radio in hand, and her head clouded by her previous arousal. John Seed waiting for her response from the other end of the call. The situation couldn’t bee any more crazy, but she does actually stop to think about his offer, listing the pros and cons in her head. Cons: it might be a trap, he is the enemy, he’s a sadistic fuck who has kidnapped her coworker, he wants to torture her as well, what if people find out... Pros: she can have sex with John Seed. Yeah, no!

“You’re crazy if you think I will agree to this. Hell no. You interrupted my private moment, which by the way is not cool! You called me in the middle of the night, being smug that you’ve been watching me through cameras. Not cool either! And now you think I will sleep with you, because what?! You asked me nicely?”

She gets angrier by every second, raising her voice at him. A long sigh comes from the other end, a dissappointed sound as John starts speaking:

“So your answer is...?”

She shouts at the radio angrily:

“No!”

An angry huff comes from the other end and Hope can imagine him, knuckles turning white as he holds the radio in his hand:

“Fine! I will find my fun elsewhere!”

She laughs at that, a fake laugh. She seriously though he wanted her, but here he goes, just wanting to get layed, nothing else. Hope doesn’t even know why she feels hurt or dissappointed, angry at the man’s actions.

“Go ahead! I’m sure you can find a volunteer in your fucked up cult. What was her name again? Molly? Holly?” She asks angrily, mocking the Baptist with the rumors she heard about his late night activities.

Why is she even getting angry at him? What did she think? That suddenly John Seed had a crush on her and wanted her only? Course not! He just wants to get laid, because he’s high. And I was the one he saw masturbating, that’s the only reason he asked, so yeah... Great.

“How do you even know about Holly?” He asks annoyed.

She huffs. So it’s true. Great, I almost said yes to this fuckboy...

“Rumors come and go, John! I wonder what would Joseph think about his little brother, one of his Heralds indulging in such a sin!”

And there she goes again. Making herself more trouble that she actually needs to be in. Joseph seems to be his weak point, and now she dared to say that she’ll tell on him. Probably with the ending that Joseph would be angry with his little brother, again. A sharp inhale can be heard and she knows she’s in trouble:

“Oh, I atone for every sin I commit, don’t worry... But you, Deputy! Your soul is stained by your sins... I was wondering if you were born a sinner, and Deputy Hudson was nice enough to share the information, that yes, indeed you were! Do you ever wonder that God took your parents so they didn’t have to watch their child turn everyone’s life into hell?”

At that Hope’s anger goes away, like it was never there, leaving her empty as she sits there in the grass. It feels like she just took a punch into her stomach, making her feeling sick. Her heart turning cold, lips and hands shaking, vision starting to blur as tears gather in her eyes.

She could say something back, something that would hurt the man, but she doesn’t want to. He used the only card that works against her, and now she just wants to get far away from people, far away from him and his cruel words. She feels defeated, broken...

“I...” She wants to speak but a sob follows through and she lets go of the radio, she doesn’t want to cry right into it.

‘You’re weak!’ She can hear Jacob Seed’s voice in her head, but another memory fades it.

‘Please, baby, please don’t come yet... It’s not time yet, please, please...’ She hears her mother’s painful voice as she pleaded for her daughter to not to be born yet. Hope listened to her parent’s last phone call that has been recorded by her uncle’s answering machine. The last one when they were both alive, the one during the car accident... the one when they both died and Hope was born.

Everyone in the world being happy when a child is born, but when Hope was born there were only tears from sadness.

And those tears are now covering her face, light sobs leaving her mouth as she buries her face in her hands. She kind of expects the younger Seed to make fun of her misery, mock her while she weeps, but he doesn’t say a thing. Minutes pass like this, but it feels like hours to her.

The young girl wiping away her last tears from her surely red eyes looks up at the sky: to the stars, the moon. She is trying to find comfort in anything, really. And comfort she gets from the same source that gave her the reason to cry her eyes out.

“I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have...” John’s voice is weak, ashamed that he caused her to cry. He doesn’t know what to say, which for him seems to be a big deal, considering he loves to talk and he always knows what words to use. So this, that he can't find the right words, has to count for something, right?

She sniffs then grabs the radio from the ground, standing up and walking towards her chopper.

“Well yeah, we shouldn’t have said or done anything tonight, so let’s just forget about it.” She says but knows the only person who might forget tonight’s encounter is John, considering the man is still high.

She opens the chopper’s door and takes a seat, while there’s nothing but silence. She half-expects the man to be asleep or he might just ended the call with that. Then he speaks, his voice low, but not intimidating, just tired.

“Yes, maybe that’s for the better.”

Hope doesn’t know how to deal with this situation. She feels uncomfortable, not just awkward and heated like before, that was intense, usual even for them. But this silence, this odd behavior for both of them is a change and she doesn’t know how she should feel about that.

“Goodnight, then.” She says awkwardly then chuckles, half fake half not. “And happy birthday, I guess... How old are you even?”

It’s such a normal, domestic question that it makes her cringe a bit. They always talk about other stuff like: ‘I will kill you. I will torture you. Say yes. Fuck you.’

“Thirty two... and it’s over midnight already, so you're a bit late.” John replies and Hope rolls her eyes at the man's teasing voice, but feels kind of happy that he’s back to his normal asshole self. No more uncomfortable silence.

“Well how would I know that? I don’t have a fancy home where I can watch the time go by... I lost my watch, so if it’s night time or day time, that’s all I know.” Hope laughs, annoyed by the fact that her watch has been taken when Jacob's hunters brought her to... to where ever the fuck they brought her for his evil presentation.

The junior deputy starts the engine of the chopper and takes off from the ground.

”I'm giving you this night, Deputy. Then tomorrow my people will come for you, they will bring you to me. Please don't fight it. You can't run from your confession, my dear. Either way you are going to say yes to me and then, I will free you from your sins. That is the will of the Father, the will of God.” John says and Hope groans out, annoyed by his speech.

Does he practice this in front of a mirror? Because it starts to sound like something he had to memorize and repeat it, like a good little student.

”Goodnight, John.” And with that Hope turns off her radio. She doesn't want to think about John Seed and their conversation. But she can't help but think about it, until she lands right outside of Fall's End.

I need some sleep. I need to forget about tonight. She thinks and she gets out of the chopper. The town looks empty, only the muffled music from the Spread Eagle is the sign that people live here. No one is outside, everybody sleeps probably.

Hope walks up to the entrance of the bar and steps inside. The air is filled with the scent of beer, sweat, but also the delicious smell of hamburger. God, I'm hungry!

Mary May looks up from behind the counter and greets the Deputy with a smile:

”Pastor said you were coming, but I thought only in the morning.” Hope sits down on a stool. ”Never mind, I'm just happy to see you in one piece. Heard you were busy in the Henbane and the mountains. Good, people need help everywhere.”

Hope is a bit tired hearing about this. People need help all the time, yeah, I know. Everyone keeps reminding me of it, not like I could forget about it.

”You got something to eat? I don't even know when was the last time I ate something.” Her stomach hurts just at the thought of her last meal. Mary May looks back to the kitchen through the window and shouts to the cook.

”Make a hamburger for our Deputy here.”

Her mouth waters when she gets her food in front of her. When she takes her first bite she moans out in pleasure, the incredible taste filling her mouth. She appriciates every bite and when she's finished she feels like she's in heaven.

Saying thanks for the food and the talk Hope leaves the Spread Eagle. And even now, full and feeling a bit more relaxed she still can't help but think about John Seed.

A/N: I wrote this on mobile and tumblr deleted a lot of parts that I had to rewrite. So if there are typos, I'm sorry. Also I wanted the chapter to be longer but I also wanted to post it, because I wont have my lap top for days. So yeah.

Tags: @onl-you

[greekmythologyslut]

Riptide (Cas x reader)

A tune that Cas had never heard before drifted through the walls of the bunker. His eyes wandered away from the book he wasn’t really reading, toward the dusty clock that hung against the wall. 3:38, it read. Cas couldn’t help but think of how odd an hour it was to be awake. With a quiet sigh, Cas closed his book and pushed his chair away from the rickety table.

The singing increased in volume as Cas walked further down the hall, the song remaining unknown to him.

He continued his trek down the hall, before walking into the bunker kitchen. Y/N’s back was to him, and her voice never faltered as she made what he assumed to be pie.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stood in the doorway and listened to her as she sang. It confused him; he knew that, unlike angels, humans needed their sleep to be able to function. So why she was up at nearly 4:00 in the morning, he didn’t know.

He stared at Y/N as she turned and, in shock, dropped the bowl of flour she was holding with a surprised shout. Her heart beat returned to normal when she realized it was Cas, only to skip a beat as he tilted his head in the adorable way that she loved. She held her hand over her heart as she let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus, Cas. You scared the hell out of me.” Cas’ eyebrows scrunched together as he took in her words.

“Jesus isn’t…” He trailed off as her smile grew, understanding that that was just some people say, and it was not literally referring to the Messiah.

She did things like that on purpose, although she would never tell him. Whenever she said things like, “Oh my God,” his head would tilt and he would attempt to make sense of how his family had anything to do with what she said. Butterflies would always erupt in her stomach, and nothing she did could make her feelings for the angelic being go away. So she put up with it.

After turning away from Cas and reaching for the broom, she accidentally came face to face with the angel. Or more accurately, face to chest, due to his height.

In an attempt to still her beating heart, Y/N took a step back and let out a low chuckle, ducking her head to hide her flaming face.

“What are you doing up-” Her words trailed off as she remembered.

“You don’t need sleep. Right. Ok, so…” She stood for a moment, her face growing a darker shade of red, if it was possible.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle, taking the broom once again. Cas, the gentleman he is, grabbed a dustpan, helped her clean the mess up quickly.

It was over too quick, and they fell into silence. Cas took a seat at the table, and she went back to baking the pie.

“Can I ask you a question, Y/N?” Cas’ voice sliced through the silence, and her head shot up at the noise.

“You just did.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as his eyebrows scrunched. He caught on quickly this time, and let a small smile slip.

“Why are you awake at this time? Every human needs sleep, unless something is wrong.” He leapt out of his chair and was across from her in an instant.

“Are you alright? Is something wrong? If you’re sick tell me, and I will heal you-”

“Cas, I’m fine!” Y/N ran a hand through her messy hair, a wide smile evident on her face as he showed his concern for her.

“It’s called insomnia; it means that I have trouble falling asleep. But it’s not as bad as you might think.” Y/N quickly tried to reassure him as she saw the worried look pasted on his face. “I can read more lore when I’m not asleep, so that helps me. I would leave the bunker, but there’s not really anywhere to go.” Y/N explained her situation to him, doing her best to make it seem better than it really was. Still, Cas could see the weary look in her eyes, and he couldn’t help the pang of sadness he felt. 

“The song.” Cas announced after a few moments of silence. 

“Huh?” Now it was her turn to be confused.

“The song. The one that you were singing earlier. What was it?” He explained further.

“Oh, um. It’s-uh- it’s called Riptide. I heard it on the radio once, and it’s been stuck in my head ever since.” Y/N started working on the pie halfway through her sentence, needing something to do with her hands.

“Would you sing it for me?” She swore her heart stopped entirely then, his request catching her completely by surprise. Her head snapped up to look at him and the small, curious smile that rested on his face.

“Um, well, you see, I don’t really-”

“I heard you earlier. You had a lovely voice.” She swallowed at his words, and her heart hammered at the thought of singing for him.

“F-fine.” She turned her back to him, humming quietly as she resumed her work, hands shaking as she sang the song.

I was scared of dentists and the dark.

I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations,

All my friends are turning green.

You’re the magician’s assistant in their dreams.

Y/N still faced away from him as she sang, not wanting to look him in the face. The quiver in her voice faded slightly as she got more accustomed to the feeling of him watching her, although her anxiety didn’t disappear completely.

Lady, running down to the riptide

Taken away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man.

I love you when you’re singing-

There was a hand on her shoulder, and in a second, she was no longer in the kitchen bunker.

Y/N closed her eyes and clutched onto her stomach as nausea washed over her from the intense movement.

The crashing of waves against the sand stilled her, and she slowly rose her head to look at the scene in front of her.

She wasn’t in Kansas anymore. It was warm. Too warm for Kansas at this time of the year. And there was the obvious fact that there were no oceans in Kansas.

Her breath escaped her as she stared at the glow of the moon reflected off the moving water.

“Cas…” She turned to look at him, only to find that his gaze was already set upon her in a look of amusement and awe.

“Florida,” He said. “that’s where we are. I’ve heard that it’s nice, and you were singing about the riptide, so.” He was wringing his hands together, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“I am sorry, though. About the sickness that flying could have caused you. It’s harder for people the first time, but it will get better the more you do it. If you want to, that is. I will not force you to fly like I did this time. I am sorry, I should have asked you before-” She pulled him into a tight embrace, knowing that his rambling could have gone on forever.

He stopped talking instantly, glad that she had put an end to his words. He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, relieved that she liked his surprise.

The hug went on for some time, both the angel and human wanting this moment to last for as long as possible. Y/N breathed in his scent, memorized the feel of his body pressed against her own.

In the moment that followed, she realized the position they were in and, not wanting to seem clingy, she let go. For Cas, it was all too soon.

The two were there for a while, staring out at the water as the sun climbed higher. Y/N couldn’t fight the grin on her face. It had been a long time since she had seen a sunrise as beautiful as this one. The colors lit up the sky, and reflected back on to them.

Y/N let out a content smile, and rested her head against Cas’ shoulder as she fought to keep her eyes open. The angel tensed, and she worried that she had made him uncomfortable. But he relaxed a second later, and wrapped his arms around her as he watched the sun.

Time passed as the two sat there in the sand, held together in a tight embrace. Cas wished they could stay in this moment A slight sigh came from the woman beside him, and Cas looked down to a surprise.

Y/N was asleep. Her eyes were closed tightly, and she let out small huffs of air as she slept with one of the most peaceful expressions Cas had ever seen on someone.

The longer he stared, the more his heart soared. Based on what she had told him about this insomnia thing, it was not easy to overcome. Yet, here she was. Sound asleep in his arms.

Cas was taken aback, and he couldn’t describe how it felt for him to be the one she trusted. In that moment, he felt something that he had only read about in old books.

“I love you.” Try as he might, he could not understand nor relate to it at the time. If he was being honest with himself, he thought he never would, and as an angel of the

Lord, it didn’t really matter to him.

Until now. Everything had changed when he met Y/N. Those three words had been just that- words. Before, there was no special meaning behind it to.

“I love you.” Cas said it again, but this time, they made sense. It was to Y/N; it was meant to be said to her. And it was true. Y/N mumbled something under her breath, still in a deep, peaceful sleep.

With profound joy in his heart, Cas turned back to the sunrise. Only now was he able to take in the complete beauty of the world around him. Still, to him, nothing could compare to the grace and loveliness of the woman beside him

[yodepalma]

promptio week day 7

Title: puppy love | ao3 link Rating: G Summary: Gladio hates being in the house without Prompto. Other Notes: Vaguely inspired by @flickerlight’s there and back again

Gladio is happy for Prompto, he really is. It’s nice to see him getting paid to do the one thing he really enjoys doing, especially since he isn’t stuck taking pictures only of boring crap around Insomnia. It’s just hard to remember how good of a thing it is when he’s stuck at home without him.

Gladio shoves his face into Prompto’s pillow and sighs. The house is way too quiet when his boyfriend isn’t there. Life is too quiet without him.

At least Prompto will be home in a couple days. The past three have lasted forever. And he’s pretty sure the guys in the Crownsguard will murder him for sulking soon. Well, they’ll try, anyway.

He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He wonders if Prompto’s sleeping better than he is. Probably not. He doesn’t do so well on the road, and if he has to stay in any havens—

Gladio really wishes he could’ve gone with him this time. He knows Prompto’s fine—they’d just talked a few hours ago—but it’s not the same as being there with him to make sure. Which means he just spends half of every night worrying, his stupid brain coming up with a hundred different scenarios where Prompto is eaten by a daemon. Or a coeurl. Or a giant lobster.

His brain is an asshole. He just wants to sleep. He throws an arm over his eyes and waits for his thoughts to fade.

The first thing Gladio does when he wakes up is check his phone. There's no messages. Not that he really expected there to be, or anything. Prompto doesn't wake up this early unless he has to.

Gladio still sends him a good morning text, just so he'll have something to smile about when he finally does get up. Then he rolls out of bed and heads straight for the kitchen. The coffee machine is waiting for him on the counter, still holding a whole cup of coffee. Because Prompto hadn't been there to finish off the pot. What a waste.

He briefly considers drinking what's in there instead of making an entirely new pot, but he's not sure he wants to find out what day-old coffee would taste like. Better just make more.

He very carefully makes enough coffee for just himself, and then continues with the rest of his morning on autopilot.

Prompto hasn't responded to his text by the time he makes it to the Citadel. Gladio scowls at his phone and trudges his way inside. If he spends too much time waiting he's going to be late.

"I should tell Prom to come home before you explode," Noct says when Gladio gets to the training room. "This is just getting sad.”

Gladio doesn't say anything. Even he's getting annoyed by his own moping.

Noct sighs. "Let's just get this over with. And try not to take it out on me this time? I still have a bruise on my ass."

"No promises." Gladio smirks.

He does try not to hurt Noct though, and focusing on the training at least keeps his mind off Prompto for a little while. But when he checks his phone afterwards there's still no message from Prompto, and he starts worrying all over again. What if he got eaten by a giant snake? Or trampled by a garula? Would Gladio ever know?

Noct comes over and punches his arm. "Relax. He's fine. Bet he's not even awake yet."

Gladio rubs his face. "Yeah, I know."

But Prompto still hasn't contacted him by lunch. Gladio scowls at his phone and resists the urge to call him—he doesn't want Prompto to think that Gladio thinks he's incapable—but he does send Prompto another text. Just to see if he's awake. Because there's nothing to worry about.

Pity he sucks at lying to himself.

The lack of a response distracts him for the rest of the day. He checks his phone every time he gets a break, even though it never makes any noise. And Noct isn't the only one who notices how out of sorts he is.

"Why don't you just go home?" his dad says when he runs into Gladio checking his phone in an alcove for the third time.

Gladio slouches against the wall and frowns. "Worrying at home isn't any better than worrying here."

His dad sighs. "Let me rephrase that. Go home, Gladio. You're not getting anything done anyway. I'll tell Cor you're busy."

Gladio glares at him suspiciously, but he seems sincere. Doesn't mean he won't get shit from Cor about it next time they spar, but at least he doesn't have to worry about it now.

The subway ride home is long and surprisingly quiet. Gladio's mind runs around in circles, giving him a thousand more unlikely ways Prompto could have died today. He wishes he had something to distract him, but when he turns on his phone all he does is stare at his messages.

He's relieved to finally get home, even if the house feels empty. Maybe they should get a dog or something. Even a fish would be better than coming home to nothing.

He lays down on the couch and imagines Prompto's reaction if he came back to find a puppy running around the place. He should be making himself dinner or something, but thinking about Prompto's excitement is way more interesting. He'll just stay here and  daydream for a few minutes. Then he'll get something done.

He wakes up to the sound of the door opening, and for a second he's worried that he forgot to lock it and someone is breaking in. Then he recognizes the sound of Prompto tripping over the door frame, and he's jumping over the back of the couch before he really realizes that Prompto's home.

Prompto's still standing in the open door, fighting against the straps wrapped around his chest. He doesn't look like he's been hurt or anything. Gladio isn't sure whether he's relieved or annoyed that he worried all day for no reason, but either way his reaction is the same.

"Oh, you're home early!" Prompto says as he finally manages to get one bag loose. "You're not sick, are you?"

"I'm fine," Gladio says. He lets Prompto put his bags on the floor, and then he wraps both arms around Prompto and tugs him close. "Kinda worried when you didn't reply to either of my texts, though."

"Sorry, I wanted to get home so I was driving all day—"

"Uh huh." Gladio leans down and kisses Prompto so he won't ramble. "Just glad you weren't kidnapped by a griffin or something."

"I've never even seen a griffin, Gladio." Prompto laughs and leans up for another kiss. "Though I bet I could get a great picture of one. Maybe I should--"

"No." Gladio pulls Prompto closer and buries his face in his hair. "You should stay home for at least a month. Maybe a year."

He can feel Prompto's eye-roll. "If you don't let me unpack I'd might as well go out again."

Gladio huffs and reluctantly lets go of Prompto. "Let me help you." He picks up all of Prompto’s bags and heads for the bedroom.

"Gladio, please." Prompto sighs and follows him. "They're not that heavy. I can carry them myself. And I don't need help."

Gladiolus puts the bags on the bed, making sure to be extra gentle with the camera. "Didn't say you need it," he mutters, fiddling with a zipper. "I just…"

"I missed you too, big guy." Prompto wraps his arms around Gladio's stomach and leans against his back. "If I hadn't been ignoring my phone I wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Which would've totally sucked."

"Yeah, it would've." Gladio turns around so he can cup Prompto's face in both hands and lean in for another kiss. Prompto meets him halfway, sliding his hands up Gladio's back to wrap his arms around his neck. They spend a long minute just kissing slowly, and Gladio can feel himself relaxing. There's nothing quite like kissing Prompto to make all of his stress disappear.

Prompto pulls away, patting Gladio on the chest. "C'mon, let's get this stuff away so I can take a shower. I'm all gross from driving."

Gladio sighs and kisses Prompto on the forehead. "All right," he says. "But only if I get to join you."

Prompto blushes. Like he wasn't thinking the same thing.

[satire-please]

Where the Moon and Night Meet

Summary: For @the-all-seer‘s bday.  :)  Enjoy my dear, I love you to pieces.  I had this A/B/O idea for FFXV where what if the whole bloodline of Lucis were Omegas?  And what if an Omega Noctis meets an Alpha Luna for the first time as kids.  Adorable fluff with Awesome!Dad Regis and a bit of world building thrown in.

Long ago the Starscourge fell upon Eos and laid its land and people to waste.  Seeing the aftermath of the rampage, one of the six took pity at humanity scant and few on the surface.  Therefore she blessed humanity with secondary characteristics, secondary genders so they will always have the ability to multiply or prosper.  Each gender possessed a deep instinct or drive so their people could thrive.  

Alphas were to fight, protect and defend their own from all.

Betas kept order and peace throughout the land.

Omegas nurtured, gave and sacrificed what was necessary for tomorrow’s future.

Currently though as Noctis watches Prompto, he doesn’t feel really peaceful.  No, he feels like he wants to strangle the beta.  Huh, maybe then he’ll be at peace?

“So Noct are you excited to be getting married?”  The open road made Prompto excited and restless.  “I mean it’s Lunafreya.  She’s practically a goddess made flesh!” 

Noctis eyes Prompto and tries a gruff, “I guess.”  But he can’t really stop his heart from beating a little harder at the thought of their upcoming reunion.  Neither can he stop the pleased, but anxious scent that floods the Regalia.

“Awwwww, are you nervous? Don’t be!  Any Alpha is lucky to have you as their Omega.” And Prompto leans over the seat to get into Noct’s face and wag his eyebrows suggestively.  “And to think?  An Alpha putting a ring on our Noct.” 

Gladio snorts into his hand as he leans out the window, “Who knows, maybe Noct will finally listen to an Alpha for once.” 

“Ha, you wish.” Noct snaps back with a laugh. 

“Everyday.” Gladio mutters, “Every fucking day.”

“You would be surprised.” Ignis of course cannot help but add his two cents in. “Noct and Miss Lunafreya have always been quite partial to each other. Even when they first met, Noctis was very eager to most of her suggestions.”

“Ignis…” Noctis growls lightly sensing danger in the smug smell that Ignis emits.  This can’t be good.

Ignis just smirks in the rearview mirror.  “In fact, if I recall correctly, the prince even starting purring after Miss Luna suggested giving him a tour of the grounds herself.” 

Prompto whips his head around from Ignis to Noctis so fast that Noctis hopes that Prompto doesn’t have a neck injury.  Then he takes the thought back immediately when the biggest chocobo-eating grin that Noct has ever seen splits across his face.

“Oh realllllllllly.” Purring is an important sign omegas unconsciously give out only when they’re deeply content or happy about something. 

“Ignis shut up!” Noct whines.  He tries to get up to grab the driver’s shoulder, cover his mouth, or do something to shut the man up.  Anything to stop what’s definitely going to be an embarrassing, traumatic story about his early omega days.  Unfortunately, Gladio wants that hazing moment badly enough to reach over to push Noct back into his seat. 

“Sit down, and didn’t your pop ever tell you it’s not safe to disturb the driver.  Plus I desperately need to hear this.”

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose, “Of course the tour of the grounds turned into a tour of the gardens and then Miss Lunafreya stated she must for diplomacy’s sake show him around the household, which of course turned into a tour—“

“Of her bedroom?” Gladio leers at Noct and blocks the punch aimed his way.  “Look at you Prince, a real lady killer I’m so proud~”

“It wasn’t like that.  We were just kids!” Noctis hissed, his ears bright red.  And the rest of the gang coo and aww like the assholes they are at the sight.  Any time Noct shows other emotions than brooding and quiet determination is a point in their favor. 

“Indeed, Gladio. There’s no need to be crude.  Such remarks reflect poorly upon the innocence of the two that practically bonded at first sight.  But yes, a tour of the bedchambers occurred at one point.” Ignis stops purses his lips in thought. “In truth during our short yet memorable stay, Noct could usually be found in her quarters.”  

“Oh my god, you’re making things worse.” Noct groans, burying his face in his palms and tries to find a reason not to hurl himself out of the car.  As if he can find one. Noct unbuckles the seat belt and leans over the Regalia’s side.  Maybe there’s a decent warp point from here.  The whiplash is going to suck but if he can get away from the ribbing….

“Geez Noct, don’t look like that!” Prompto chides.  As a beta he starts emitting a calming scent at Noct’s caged expression.  “We’re just kidding!”

“Yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, your highness.” Gladio grabs the edge of Noct’s jacket, because he wouldn’t put it pass the idiot to trying warping when they’re going 85 miles per hour. 

“Leave my underwear out of this,” Noctis snarls, but lets the pushy Alpha tug him back into place. “And just can it okay?” 

Prompto pouts.  “But you two must have been so cute!”

“They were.” Ignis reminisces, “They still are.” 

“But that stuff, it’s…ours. I don’t want to—I don’t need to share it.” Noct glances to the three before watching the scenery rush by.  “Does that even make sense?”

“Well, you have always been a private kinda guy.” Prompto says scratching his head. 

Gladio grunts. “Ha. That’s one way to put it, but fine.  I guess we’ll lay off for now.” 

“For the current moment. A quick respite.” Ignis acknowledges that there is a time and place, “Yet the closer we get to your wedding, the loser my lips will be.  I hope you can forgive me when I crack.”

“I’ll try.” Noct say dryly.  But is grateful for the break.  He takes a deep breath and for a while gets lost down memory lane himself.  And when he met her.  

She was the shiniest thing Noct had ever seen. 

When Dad said they were visiting Tenebrae to help with diplomatic relations as well as to acquaint Noct to kingdoms besides his own.  Noct had been sullen because Dad was lying.  Again.  Noctis isn’t an idiot; he does pay attention to his lessons.  Besides everyone knows Tenebrae is infamous for its healing magics.

This was another thing to try to fix his useless legs.  To try to fix him.

Insomnia’s doctors and medics had tried everything to cure the injury to his spine and legs…but nothing. Procedure after procedure was met with failure and Noct is sick with the way his father’s face twists from hope to heartbroken disappointment every single time.  As if each setback adds to guilt Regis carries of not being there for his son when the monster attacked.    

Noctis will never forget the way his Dad tore into that creature. 

Noct knows that in other countries, people like to color Omegas as the weakest cast, but if they could only see his father annihilate the threat to his child.  How the armiger glowed and burned stronger than the fire. Or the hands pressed on his back and sides trying frantically to stop the puddle of his blood from getting larger.

The worst part was when he woke up to his Dad sobbing. The broken, “We’ll find a way Noct, I promise. I promise.” 

“I know.” Noctis had weakly mewed.  But he wishes his father would be okay if they don’t.  If Noct does have to use the wheelchair for the rest of his life. 

And he knows that Dad will still love him, but Regis can’t stop the whispers of Noct not only being an omega, but an injured one.  Sure the whole royal bloodline of Lucis have always been omegas but the council does not need another excuse to be more overprotective and smothering to its rulers. Regis already regularly duels to show his fighting competence, that yes he can leave his crown city and come back in one piece.

Noct?  Noctis doesn’t have a chance right now. 

In this instance though? His bad mood, bad thoughts fade away. Her eyes are so blue.  They match a summer sky with hair so blonde it’s like starlight that frames her soft smile.

“Hello, Prince Noctis. My name is Lunafreya.  Welcome to Tenebrae.”  The girl bends just a little bit over his wheelchair to offer her hand. 

Noctis takes it, wow she’s so warm, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat.  “Hello. It’s nice to meet you Lunafffff-, Lunafre—” He feels his mouth snap closed, his cheeks on fire.  What the heck is wrong with him?

And Noct always thought Alphas were kind of intimidating or jerks, but the girl just seems to sparkle at his response.  “The pleasure is all mine.”  She feels her heart swell, taking in the red flush spreading on the boy’s skin.  She leans closer to him, the distance between them narrowing as she lets her presence soothe any embarrassment.  “If it’s alright with you,” Lunafreya drops her voice to a whisper. “Would you call me Luna?” 

“Luna.” Noctis breathes, his eyes so lovely with her reflection and oh Lunafreya is going to keep this person. 

“I like the way you say my name.”  Lunafreya can’t help but inhale the prince’s scent.  She wants to know it, be able to find in a crowd or across the sea if she needs to.  Noctis’ smell has the tint of sweetness all omegas carry, but it’s like earth after a thunderstorm, charged with lightning and fresh with rain. 

She loves it. 

She squeezes Noctis hand, turning her hold from passive to active and spins to her Mother rapidly. Her white fur cape brushes over Noct’s bare arm and his breathing hitches.  Underneath the cloth, Luna gently grips his forearm, pressing the scent glands at their wrists together.  Their scents will mix and though Noct doesn’t exactly want to let go, he kinda really wants to see what the new blend smells like.

“Mother, may I show Prince Noctis the grounds?  I’m sure Noctis would appreciate our national flower the sylleblossom.”  She looks imploringly to the Queen.  “It would do well to show him what makes Tenebrae great.”

It’s so slight, but Regis is close enough to discern the quiet noise coming from the back of his son’s throat.   Noctis is purring.  It’s been so long since Regis heard that sound, he feels his brow furrow.  Well. This is an unexpected turn of events.

When the Lucian King looks over to Queen Sylva, another Alpha in their family, he sees that he is not the only one who’s surprised.  “Why Lunafreya, that’s a lovely idea.  Thank you for being so accommodating.” 

“How could I not Mother, which such honored guests?”  Regis will admit the girl is very eloquent for one of her age.  Almost savvy, she’ll be a political, yet polite terror if or when she takes her mother’s throne.  

Sylva Nox Fleuret gives a sweeping gesture behind her, “I can only be grateful for such a hospitable daughter.  When you are finished, you can meet us at the courtyard.” 

“Thank you Mother.”   Slowly she detaches her hand from Noctis, who gives a downtrodden look until Luna whispers something into his ear so quietly not even Ignis holding Noct’s chair can hear. Yet when she places a hand on the chair’s handlebar…she sharpens. 

“Where to Miss Lunafreya? Or shall we just follow you?” Ignis says coolly. 

“Actually, I was thinking I could take over your duties for once.  As a royal retainer, there’s so much for you to do during a trip such as this. You could dedicate yourself to making sure the prince’s accommodations are suitable if you like.   I do not mind pushing the prince around.”  Lunafreya’s words are civil, but the look she gives….is less so. 

As a Beta Ignis shouldn’t feel riled up by the little upstart, but two can play that game. “I’m sure I can balance all of my duties princess.  There’s no need for your concern.”  He smiles chillingly. 

“Nonsense.  Besides I’m certain the prince—“

“Noctis.  If I can call you Luna…you can call me Noctis or Noct.” Between the blondes, the prince mumbles.

“—I’m certain Noctis,” Luna rolls the name in her mouth like it’s delicious, “would enjoy spending time with someone closer to his age.” 

“Now see here—“

“Ignis.”  Noctis halts the tirade in its tracks.  “I-I’d like that.  Can I, I mean may I go?”   

And Ignis has never been good at denying his prince.  Ever. “Oh, alright.  I’ll expect you in the courtyard.”  The tired teenager relents.

“Thanks.” And that small appreciative smile is the reason Ignis folds like a deck of cards. 

Beaming, Lunafreya takes the handles somewhat graciously and wheels the heir away from the group. Her voice chattering in the distance, interspersed with a couple low tones from Noctis.

Regis pats Ignis’ shoulder. “Rest assured Ignis, Miss Lunafreya will give the best of care to our dear Noct.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of, your Majesty.” Ignis dares to utter as he bows to leave.  “But as the princess mentioned I have things to attend to.”

Then it’s only the monarchs with their retinues in the clearing left.  Sizing up each other, Alpha to Omega, Sylva beckons with an expression of keen interest. 

“Come, you must be tired from your journey.” She takes in how exhausted the man looks, and the instincts in Sylva growl a bit.  Surely Lucia should do better to support their omegas.  “We now have even more to talk about.”  

The halls of the Fleuret Manor ring with Regis’ clipped footsteps.  The king searches for his son as the night waxes, passing room upon room of calming tones of blue and purple.   True, Regis could have had Ignis do the task, but there is a kind of fulfillment of putting one’s own child to bed. 

Also it is an excuse to escape the Queen’s clutches. 

The woman is a kind one, yet Regis wishes she would focus more on the care of his son than him. Sometimes he swears Sylva combines the mother-hening force of the entire Lucian counsel.  Her views on the care of Omegas…are different than his own. 

But besides his health, the monarchs have started to contemplate the future of their heirs.  Regis would rather ponder about Noct’s marriage when the boy is thirty.  But it is a possible match, a possible alliance.  Even this afternoon the conversation followed different variations of:

“Truly you can see the advantages of such an arrangement, Regis.”

“Yes, but I fear the fates have a very different picture of the future than we do.”

“Then should we not press for even the scantest trace of their happiness?” 

And Miss Lunafreya and Noctis are very fond of one another. They spend much of their waking hours in each other’s company and it is good to hear Noct’s laughter again.  In addition there is finally progress with Noctis’ injuries; the healers truly have earned their reputation well.  The prince exhausts quickly, only few steps before he collapses…usually into Lunafreya’s arms. 

On that note, Regis easily deducts Noctis’ whereabouts.  

He’s about to knock on the young lady’s door, but his hand freezes at the sound of Noct’s voice. 

“This feels kinda weird Luna.” 

“You think so?  I swear I’m doing it right.”  A rustle.  “Is it a bad weird or a good weird?” 

“I’m not sure…it almost tickles?” 

“Well you let me know if you want me to stop.”  And then there’s a wet noise. 

Regis gurgles and wretches the door open.  On Miss Lunafreya’s bed the two sit side by side with Luna’s head buried into his precious son’s neck. Their fingers intertwined as the girl kittenly licks Noct’s nape as if preparing to…

The Dear Six, they’re attempting a mating bite.

“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret what do you think you’re doing?” Noctis jerks at Regis’ shout while Luna looks up frightened.

“Sir, I-I—“ Tears spring from the girl’s eyes.

“Get away from him.” The king strides forward with the intent to rip them apart.  “I cannot believe that someone of your prestige would dare—“

“Stop yelling at her, it was my idea!” Noct yells twisting his body in front of Luna’s. 

“Noctis.”  Regis stares at his son shocked. 

“We…” He looks to his friend for guidance.  “Luna?”

Softly she explains, “We overheard that it is most likely for us to be married.”

“But no one asked us what we thought.  You didn’t, Luna’s mother didn’t.  Nobody even asked us what we wanted.”  Noctis blurts out shakily. 

“So we discussed it. We desired to do something…without being told to do it.” 

“So I asked Luna to be my bride.” Noctis states with determination. 

“And I asked Noctis to be my omega.” She stares at Noctis in wonder.  “He said yes.”

A quiet smile graces Noct’s face and he takes a second to nuzzle Luna’s face. “We both said yes…but words aren’t enough.  A mark is stronger, better.  It’s something that can’t be erased.” 

“B-but a mating bite?” Regis choked out.  He had planned to have this type of conversation with Noctis later.  Much, much, much later.

“Why not?” Noctis stubbornly retorts.  He points to Regis accusingly.  “You still rub the one Mom gave you sometimes.”

“And my mother still bares my father’s mark proudly, even years after his death.” Luna adds.  From behind she wraps her arms tight around her dear one’s waist.  If the king of Lucis wishes to remove her, they’ll have to cut her arms off first. Luna will hold on, Noctis is worth it. 

“So there’s no reason for you to be mad, Dad.  We did nothing wrong!”

Regis pauses and chooses his words carefully.  “It’s not necessarily that it’s the wrong action, as it is the wrong time.” 

“What do you mean?”Noctis glares when Regis finishes crossing the room to sit on the bed. 

“A mating bite is special. It should be done after your wedding ceremony.  When you’re together for the first time as a pair, alone and somewhere private.” 

“But we were together alone and somewhere private.  Until you butted in.”

“And older, Noctis.” Regis snaps, “Much older and mature.  You are still children for heaven’s sake.” 

He can see the two getting ready to argue more and puts up a hand. “But there is something that you can do now.  Something that’s more appropriate for your age and circumstance.”

“And what would that be, King Regis?” Luna asks eagerly. 

“A bite of intent.  A bite that designates a willingness to begin a courtship.” Regis looks to his hands.  “A relationship takes time.  Time to develop, time to grow.  Even if this arranged marriage does take place I, and your mother Lunafreya, would never force you children into something you’re not ready for.”

He gets up from the bed to kneel in front of the children.  “You can take your time.  And if you change your mind, we will wholeheartedly accept your decision.  Yet for now, there’s no need to rush.”

Luna and Noctis look at each other and then back to Regis.  “Alright.  How do we do a bite of intent?”  Noctis questions.

Regis takes a deep breath in relief.  Oh, thank the stars he found the pair before anything else could happen.  “The two of you will take the other’s wrist and bite down on the scent gland there.  It will hurt and feel strange as it does create somewhat of a fledgling bond, but I will watch you to make sure it is done right.”

Noctis nods and offers Luna his wrist, Luna does the same.  Luna presses gentle kisses to light blue veins she finds while Noctis mouths the pulse on hers, but neither do anything until Regis nods.

“Ready…bite.”

In unison the two bite down hard, wincing for a moment as blood fills their mouths but soon their expression turn relaxed and sated. 

Noctis feels something snap into place. It’s like going home or seeing an old friend you didn’t know you had.  It’s Luna.  A bright feeling of happiness almost overtakes the prince, and it increases as he realizes that Luna’s emotions echo his. 

It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. 

Quietly, Regis reaches over to tug their wrists towards him to wipe off the blood, and wrap the sluggish wounds.  They’ll heal almost immediately, but they will leave a faint scar. 

All that’s left is to carry his wayward son to bed and think of ways to avoid Queen’s Sylva’s smug inquires tomorrow.

 “Now say goodnight, Noct.”  His son is getting bigger, but Regis treasures each moment he can still hold his boy like this.

“Goodnight Luna.” Noctis sends a feeling of contentment down the bond. 

The warm emotion bounces back with a peal of joy.  “May you have sweet dreams, Noctis.”

And he does.

In the present, Noctis rubs the white mark on his wrist hidden by bracelets and charms.  The bond is faint between his intended, distance stretches it as fine as a strand of hair, but it’s still there. 

Noctis feels a brush of apprehension, of excitement…of hope from her.  ‘I miss you too.’ He tries back, he can’t send words exactly but maybe the impression will be enough. 

Well at least that’s one thing Ignis can’t embarrass him with.  The memory of the ‘almost’ mating bite, their first step as a couple.  That’s all Luna’s and Noct’s.  It’s all theirs. 

‘I’m coming.’ Noctis thinks and prays.  ‘Just wait for me Luna, I’m coming…’

[pips-fics]

tw: vomiting, insomnia, anxiety

trigger description: yechan has trouble sleeping, so does wonsang. yechan thinks about this quite a bit as well as his own relationship with anxiety but in somewhat vague terms

ask: Could I request a sick Wonsang (emeto preferred but whatever you feel) as I haven't read him as a Sickie for a long while. Scenario being where he's not feeling well and wakes up in the middle of the night and Yechan looks after him? By the way your writing is incredible, the glass metaphors in your Jisung fic were incredible and you're a very talented being. <3

(thank you again to this lovely anon because reading this ask even now makes me so happy 🥺)

note: you might notice something new about this fic... it has a title!!! i usually only include titles when i post to ao3 because it is a requirement however i now have an Official Fic Titler!!! so, huge thanks to Madeline for taking the title-writing anxiety off of my shoulders and coming up with a title i can be proud of for once 🥰💛

be brave –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

sometimes yechan got nervous at night.

he wasn’t sure if he could call it insomnia or if it was even to the point of anxiety. he knew that wonsang had both of those things, and that his own struggles weren’t nearly that bad. still, he felt like he could understand, even if just a little.

sometimes, he thought that having someone to talk to when he couldn’t sleep might make things less painful.

he’d developed a habit of keeping an eye out for the other band members when they couldn’t sleep. sangyeop rarely encountered this issue, but when he did, yechan had learned that he liked to have a beer and just chat in the living room or walk around outside. gwangil usually needed to be distracted, but sometimes he just needed a head massage to help him relax. wonsang usually went to the studio when he couldn’t sleep, which meant that yechan wasn’t really sure what worked best for him.

maybe, he thought, it really was best for wonsang to be left alone.

and yet - when he caught wonsang getting up for a drink at three in the morning, yechan couldn’t just keep quiet. normally, maybe, he would have, but yechan hadn’t been able to sleep either, and wonsang looked even more stressed than usual, though he thought that might have been the lighting - or lack thereof - playing tricks on his eyes.

“wonsangie!” yechan chirped. “can’t sleep?”

“i’m just getting water.” if yechan had to put a word to wonsang’s tone, it would probably be… cold. he frowned. it wasn’t a word he typically associated with the bassist.

“okay, okay,” yechan said, holding his hands up placatingly. “just asking.”

wonsang just grunted. yechan kept his mouth shut. the last thing he wanted was to make things worse, and wonsang didn’t seem interested in talking, so yechan figured he should leave well enough alone.

when yechan woke up two hours later to see wonsang pacing in the kitchen, he decided enough was enough.

“hey, wonsang, are you okay?” yechan spoke quietly, but the other man jumped, placing a hand over his chest and glaring.

“hyung, don’t scare me like that!”

“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to!” yechan grimaced. wonsang had a tendency to startle easily, but this was a bit much even for him. “are you alright, though?”

the corners of wonsang’s mouth were pinched, and when yechan looked more closely, he could see sweat beaded on his forehead.

“i’ll be fine, hyung, you don’t need to worry about me. i’m not a child,” wonsang mumbled, words slightly garbled as if he was talking around ice cubes. that happened to yechan, too, when he was exhausted past his breaking point, or extremely stressed.

he changed tactics.

“how’s that new anime you’ve been watching?”

wonsang blinked. “it’s… fine?”

yechan nodded, deliberately acting as if nothing was amiss. “what’s it about again? snowboarding?”

the corner of wonsang’s mouth twitched, a too-tight screw loosening, and quirked upwards. “close! skateboarding, actually, but one of the characters used to be a snowboarder.”

“oh, i see! i saw something about it online. it looks… romantic?”

for a second, wonsang froze, and yechan followed suit, wondering if he’d overstepped some boundary. then wonsang started laughing.

“what? what?” yechan asked, still worried about the younger man but now genuinely confused and intrigued as well.

“it’s… complicated,” wonsang said, and sat down next to yechan on the couch to explain.

the two continued talking for nearly an hour. yechan learned about anime and raccoons (so much about raccoons) and wonsang’s dogs, and wonsang relaxed, absorbed in talking about the things he loved most. it was nice, relaxing for both of them, really, and yechan had started to doze off again when he heard a whimper.

“hyung,” wonsang’s voice, hesitant at first, drifted in to yechan’s half dream. yechan heard a click, and the darkness behind his eyes brightened. a lamp. he groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“yechan-hyung.” it was the heady desperation in wonsang’s tone that finally got yechan’s attention.

“wha– huh? wha’s wrong?” he forced his bleary, light-sensitive eyes to focus, and his heart dropped.

wonsang looked miserable.

his normally fluffy hair was plastered, sweaty, on his forehead, and he held a shaky arm in front of his face. his skin was drained of color, except for his cheeks, which were flushed red.

“wonsangie,” yechan said gently, almost pleading, “what happened?”

“i feel sick.” wonsang’s voice was rough, tired, and honest.

“for how long?”

at this, wonsang averted his eyes. “most of the night,” he said quietly. “i just… didn’t want to bother anyone. i thought i could handle it on my own.”

there were tears shining in wonsang’s eyes. yechan reached out and petted wonsang’s head. “why should you handle it on your own?”

wonsang’s stomach made a threatening noise, and he clamped and hand over his mouth, alarmed, before his insides seemed to settle. yechan stood up and offered the younger man his arm.

“come on. up, now.”

wonsang followed suit with reluctance, but little resistance, and they settled in near the toilet.

“go ahead, then. let it out.”

“hyung,” wonsang whined. “i don’t want to.”

“you’ll be fine, wonsangie, come on. be brave.” it was something yechan had said many times before. be brave. the first time must have been during the superband concerts. the expectations had started to get the best of wonsang, especially as the concerts came to a close and everyone prepared to focus on their own groups’ activities. for wonsang, that meant production in addition to unfamiliar performances and promotions. on top of the sadness of saying goodbye to all the friends they’d made, it was a lot to process.

but then, wonsang had been through worse before. he’d started with nothing, once, with no production knowledge and few connections, and he’d built himself up. that had taken courage, yechan had reminded him. so he’d told him to be brave once again, and wonsang had.

he thought maybe wonsang had forgotten, but wonsang’s face shifted into a expression of surprise, and then acceptance, and finally determination. a shudder ran through him, and he leaned forward. at the last second, yechan looked away, but he heard the splash of liquid on liquid, followed by coughing. still looking determinedly at the wall, yechan rubbed a hand up and down wonsang’s back as it rippled with another heave, and then another.

“good boy,” yechan managed to say, keeping a finger under his own nose and a hand over his mouth. as wonsang belched up more vomit, yechan had to repress a gag of his own, but he was determined to see this through. he couldn’t leave wonsang alone.

by the time wonsang’s dry heaves tapered off, both men were exhausted. wonsang was barely responsive, and yechan’s arms shook as he cleaned wonsang’s face before leading him back to the couch. he figured it would be safest for them both to sleep there for the night - or rather, the morning, yechan concluded, noting the sunlight streaming in through the window. he closed the blinds, climbed onto the unoccupied half of the couch, and turned off the lamp, ready to sleep.

“i don’t want to be a burden.” it was so quiet, yechan barely heard wonsnag’s whisper. “that’s… that’s what i was going to say.” yechan blinked, thinking back in a struggle to connect the dots.

why should you handle it on your own?

wonsang continued. “even though you’re squeamish– i mean, you shouldn’t have to–” wonsang stopped momentarily, dipped his head to look for the right words, and then continued. “i shouldn’t have to rely on you for my courage,” he concluded, volume fading as he spoke, as if ashamed of the words as they exited his mouth. yechan frowned.

“you can rely on me for anything,” he said simply. wonsang looked uncertain. “no, really - wonsang, you’re family. that’s the whole point of being a family - we can really on one another. it doesn’t make you a burden to accept help when it’s offered.”

“but what if–” wonsang broke off, and looked to yechan as if for permission. yechan nodded, urging him on. “what if i need more help than i should?”

yechan shook his head. “everyone needs different amounts of help, and different kinds of it. it’s impossible and unnecessary to compare. there are no expectations, and no limits.”

wonsang hummed noncommittally, then yawned. yechan smiled. “wonsangie, go to sleep now. we can talk more when you’re feeling better, but just let me take care of you until then, okay?”

“okay, hyung,” wonsang said, just before drifting off to a restful sleep.

——

a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to make me smile and help me plan/get hype for my next fic :)

——

feel free to send more asks! / rules

[inthesummerswelter]

recipe for disaster: chapter twelve (interlude)

One of the most important things Zayn has learned over twenty-four years of living are the different interpretations that come along with certain words.

When someone says, “Let’s go for a walk,” they mean, “I need you.”

When someone says, “Can I have a cigarette?,” they mean, “I want to drown with you.”

And, when someone says, “I can’t do this anymore,” they mean, “I love you.”

(“I know” means “I love you, too.”)

The iciness from cold marble seeps through the leather of his beaten jacket as he leans against the tombstone and traces the curves of engraved letters idly with one, tanned finger. His mind works double-time to compose lyrics about how the gritty fog drifts through choppy black hair bowed over a tray of sliced oranges.

Oh, how the clouds drift closer and closer towards the deep /

I think the earth is hiding secrets from us /

You and I, we’ve got heavy feet /

And that requires a lot of trust /

 This is the second time in his life that he’s seen Penn Bunting cry.

This is the second time in six days.

  The first time Zayn Malik sees Penelope Bunting cry, she’s sixteen and wasted and he’s nineteen and addicted to insomnia.

The hard metal of the fire escape’s railing indents the thin skin of his bare elbows, and he flexes them as he takes a hard drag off the end of his clove cigarette. Blowing out the pale smoke, he watches as it curls around the few stars dotting the night sky, embroidered pinpricks of light picked out in white against the dark, dark blue backing cloth.

Just as he’s about to bring up a hand to finger-comb through hair mussed by day-old styling product, there’s a clang from below and Zayn looks over the edge to see bleached-bone fingers curl around the metal grate of the fire escape the story below.

“The fuck…?”

He’s surprised.

Not surprised that there’s currently a slip of a girl scaling her way up the side of the building, but surprised at how fast she’s accomplishing her task. Last time they had discussed heights, she had admitted point-blank that they terrified her and would never undergo any such related activity willingly.

However, everything becomes clear when she pulls herself up to his level, gasping as she collapses on her back on the rusty grate.

She’s obviously quite intoxicated.

Penelope Bunting, chest heaving, stares up at the blanket of the sky with fresh tears still glistening on her cheek.

And his heart breaks a little.

After a moment, she pushes herself up onto her forearms, wincing at the harsh bite of the grate that she can feel through the sleeves of her sweater. But, she makes her way upright, or mostly upright, towards him. Swaying with a nonexistent wind, she reaches for his lit cigarette, which he hands to her.

Penn brings it nearly all the way to her lips, the filter almost brushing them, before she changes her mind and flicks it over the edge of the rail to burn out on grimy asphalt. Before he can even reprimand her, she holds up a hand that shakes slightly and says, with a voice that does not, “I need a favor.”

And he just nods, because when has he ever refused her anything?

(Sometimes, when the wind blows just enough to rattle the panes of glass during the night, his hand unconsciously shoots to where he keeps his keys on the shelf near his bed, thinking that Penn has finally come knocking to ask him to take her away.)

She leads the way, starting to slip through the open window to his flat until her feet land with two muffled thumps on his ragged throw-rug. There’s nobody for her footsteps to wake up, and, for that Zayn is grateful. One of the first things he had learned about Penn is how closed-off and private she is, and - judging from her expression and the way she reaches up every so often to dab at the tears still on her face - this isn’t going to be a moment she wants to share with many people.

Penn makes her way to the kitchen by feel alone, sliding her palms around the walls until her fingers find the switch to turn on the singular, dull light fixture shoddily attached to the ceiling.

Sitting down at his small, two-person table, Zayn slumps and settles his chin in his hand as he watches her rifle through drawers and cabinets. It’s funny, almost, how methodical she is, always replacing everything she moves back in the exact spot it had just left.

He figures that’s a remnant habit from her home life. Being able to fix the little things, settle things back into place as unobtrusively as humanly possible.

Of course, that was before her pop got sick.  

It happened very suddenly, just a stroke out of the blue, and, just like that, much of the time he and Penn spend together now are on his motorcycle as he takes her back and forth from the hospital.

(She told him once that she and her gran are the only ones that visit. Two sons, a daughter-in-law, and two other grown grandchildren. Out of seven immediate family members, only two visitors.)

(It breaks his heart, just a little bit.)

His reverie is broken with the sound of a cabinet door slamming shut.

Penn stands in front of him, large pair of shears and tea-towel in hand.

“I need you to cut my hair.”

“...What?”

To any uninformed observer, this may not seem like a monumental request.

But, to Zayn, she’s dropped a small atomic bomb.

The girl standing in front of him, dully-silver scissors in one small hand, has long sheets of dark, silky hair that flow past her waist and shine in the sunlight. She’s always fiddling with it: tucking strands behind her ear, twirling ends around her finger absentmindedly, braiding tiny plaits to keep it out of her eyes.

He remembers one occasion where, replying to a remark she had just made seconds earlier at the inconvenience of having such long hair, he suggested she just cut it off to make things more manageable.

In the middle of walking over to his refrigerator to replace the carton of orange juice she was holding, she gave a self-deprecating laugh and looked at him with eyes much sadder than he thinks she intended.

“One of the only compliments that I can remember getting from my mum was how long hair suits me,” Penn said, turning her back to him as she searched for a place to stick the carton.

He never brought it up again after that.

Now, though, he can see her nose, small and button-like, flaring gently as she tries to keep the onslaught of tears at bay.

However, as soon as they get her set up over the tiled floor and the first snick of the shears cuts through the air, the quiet sounds of drops falling down and crashing against the cold floor amplify and become louder than their near-silent breathing.

The process takes very little time, the scissors being razor-sharp and slicing through clumps of hair with relative ease. Zayn is mesmerized with how the freed coils of hair slip to the ground in sinuous piles, like an array of coal-black commas cast around on his kitchen floor.

It’s ridiculously painful for Penn, though. Almost regular breaths become short, cut-off gasps, and eventually they have to take a break before he goes back in to even out the ragged ends of the bob he’s trimmed her hair into.

She draws up her legs into her chest, clasping her arms around her knees in a vice-like grip as she heaving in huge, shuddering gulps, sounding for all the world like she’s drowning.

Zayn imagines she probably is.

It’s a solid twenty-ish minutes before Penn collects herself enough so that it’s safe for him to continue evening out the crooked ends. Now she’s fixed her gaze on the wall in front of her, the robin’s-egg-blue paint job they had given it five months earlier already faded and patchy with sunspots.

“‘M finished, now.”

He steps back and watches as Penn gently shakes her head, any loose hairs drifting down to join their mates, and then sifts her fingers through the blunt cut. Her fingers pull down through the hair and keep going, a new habit to be broken.

The floor gets swept in silence, and cast-off memories shaken out of a dustpan and into the rubbish bin.

“I think I need to go back now,” Penn murmurs, small hand clutching at the bottom hem of his shirt to get his attention after she’s gathered back the shortened strands and secured them with a hair elastic.

“Okay.”

They don’t even discuss the destination. They both know where she means.

The ride back on the motorcycle flies by, even with the unexpected traffic stoppering up the roadways.

He sees her off in the parking-lot, gives her a hug, making sure to tuck her face in the corner of his chest away from the zipper on his jacket and press a kiss onto the crown of her head.

(Zayn thinks he heard a mumbled thank-you then, but the sound of sirens clogged up his ear to her words.)

Her silhouette disappears underneath the sheltering overhang at the front of the hospital, a shadow slowly engulfed by the burning white lights in the interior of the building.

  He hears the next day that her pop passed in the night.

Which is why there’s even less surprise at her appearance on the fire escape the five evenings later. Instead, it’s directed towards the large parcels she’s holding in shaking arms and the fact that it took her so long to come by.

The second time that Zayn Malik sees Penelope Bunting cry, she’s a thousand light-years older and preoccupied with hungry ghosts, and he’s halfway there himself and imagining how nice drowning must feel.

The amount of pain that the world can pack into one small person, he thinks as he absentmindedly crosses his arms to scratch at his shoulders, seems hard to justify right now.

Penn looks a marionette doll with all her strings snapped.

It breaks his heart, just a little bit.

(Any more and he’s sure it will cleave entirely in two.)

“Penn…”

“It’s t-the ghosts,” she says abruptly. “I wouldn’t...y’know, b-bother you after all you’ve done for me, but it’s the g-ghosts. I c-can’t let him become a ghost.”

He has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, but she looks so absolutely wrecked with grief that he just nods his head and leads her down the stairs to his bike.

This time, she has to give him directions to the cemetery, and this time the roads are full of puddles, reflecting broken bodies in every pool.

Ironic, really.

The iron gates to the Olive Grove are closed, of course, but Zayn bends down in front of the padlock and quickly jimmies the rusted mechanism open. Ushering Penn in front of him, he pulls the gate closed with a muffled clang.

They follow the path of the flattened grass, and she unconsciously reaches up to adjust the white armband tied around her left bicep. It’s a trek to get to the plot, winding around other leaning headstones coloured in dull shades of pinky-red and slate-grey and inscribed with a language Zayn has no hope of understanding.

Her pop’s grave - onyx black, with the characters standing out in paler shades of grey - rests almost all the way at the top of a hill, under the shade of some sort of flowering tree Zayn can’t identify. Their shoes make dark prints in the scattered snow of the fallen blossoms.

Penn kneels in the fresh soil that had just been placed down that morning and begins to unpack. He’s not entirely sure quite what to do, so he moves back and sits down against the side of a stone adjacent to Ichiro Bunting’s plot.

What she begins to set in front of her is nothing that he expects. Not that he’s got any clue anymore.

Two flowers in plastic pots. A trowel and full water bottle. An ornate, red tray. A set of two tiny cups with matching pairs of chopsticks. A bottle of rice wine. Three oranges and a knife.

Half of a small, roasted chicken, and an assortment of what appear to be pastries. Bunches of multicolored thin paper, bound up into stacks. A coffee can.

And, finally, a lighter.

He’s a bit concerned now and half-wondering how they had managed to carry all of that on the bike. He didn’t realise she had so many bags.

Gesturing to him, Penn calls his name. “Zayn. Can you come here please?”

She places the flowers on either side of the headstone and hands him the trowel meaningfully. Taking the hint, he gets to work, digging in the loose soil to clear two holes deep enough to place the root balls of the plants in. As he’s settling them down in their new homes, patting down the soil and using the water from the bottle to give them a good drink, Penn’s busying herself with another task.

The tray is placed directly in front of the stone, the cups, chopsticks, and oranges set on top of it. The plastic clamshell in which the chicken sits is opened to the cool night air and placed beside the tray. Each of the tiny cups receives a small measure of the rice wine, and the oranges are sliced open to better bare their sweet innards.

Three sticks of incense are produced, stuck into the dirt, and lit.

By now, she’s crying.

The tears drip down the planes of her face until they plink against the bottom of the coffee can and stain the stacks of paper.

She nestles the can solidly into the dirt and fans out one of the bunches of paper. Now, Zayn can see that they’re folded in two, with a gold square in the center. Bringing the lighter up, she flicks on the flame and drags it across the tips of the papers, letting the fire catch before dropping them down into the metal can.

The process repeats, and, every so often, Penn reaches over and hands a stack to Zayn, lighting the edges and motioning for him to drop it into the smoldering inferno in the coffee tin.

“We’re p-providing for him,” she explains, tripping over her words slightly, settling back on her haunches as she separates a few of the papers from a stack and secure them with a rock to the top of the gravestone. He continues to feed papers into the fire, enraptured by her words.

“This is joss paper, offering p-paper. It’s like heaven-money. Actually, after-life money is a better term. Burning it takes it up to Pop, so he can use it in the after-life to t-take care of himself.”

Sometimes, there’s miniature paper clothes and cars burned also, other necessities needing to be transferred across the veil.

She tells him a story, about a family they once knew. The son had died, just before leaving for college, and the grief-stricken mother had gone out and purchased a brand-new laptop. The day after, the mother had gone to the cemetery and burned the computer so her son could make use of it in the afterlife.

The tones and catches in her voice colour the tale until he can imagine it in vivid, heart-wrenching detail.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from her knees, Penn drops the last few burning pieces of paper in the tin and watches the flames carry tiny black ashes up into the atmosphere.

Plucking the bunch of incense from its place in front of the grave, she places the ends between flattened palms and gives three deep bows to the headstone. The curls of smoke float through her fringe, pale in the dark of the night.

(She gestures at him to do the same, so he bends forward from his position and bows three times as well.)

She repeats the bows until three sets of three have been executed. Replacing the sticks, she kneels once more and takes one of the cups into her hands. Tossing it back, he can see her wince as it burns on the way down. The other cup is poured on the ground.

Her fingers rise up, almost of their own accord, and begin to skitter their way down the front of the stone in horizontal lines, like a blind man reading braille letters. Except, it’s the opposite, because these letters are indented instead of raised, and she’s not reading but remembering.

Remembering and memorizing and mourning.

And then he watches until she crumples suddenly into a heap, fingers clenched in the loose dirt, flexing as though they’d like nothing more than to dig down down down until they scraped the wood of the coffin and pulled its inhabitant back to life.

Her sobs echo as the fogs rolls in, and there’s nothing he can do while she grieves.

This is something she has to ride out alone.

Clouds rolling across the dark sky flash glimpses of the moon, which casts rays through the chinks in the fluid grey wall and illuminates the grass of the hillside in sporadic intervals.

She’s calling in all those hungry ghosts /

The ones the ones with the desperate grins /

The ones you fear the most /

The ones that you’re afraid will win

They don’t leave until the sky starts to fade, and he goes around collecting up the tray and its contents, sticking them back into the plastic bags they had brought with them. It’s not until he’s in the process dumping out the extra ashes stuck to the bottom of the coffee tin into the closest rubbish bin - after he poured the remaining water over the metal to cool it down - that she stirs from where she’s curled herself into a ball, a pale circle centered in a dark rectangle.

“Here,” he says, kneeling down in front of her, coffee can still in hand. Penn climbs onto his back after making half-hearted motions to brush the soil from her clothes and settles so that her head rests right underneath his right ear.

With her situated, Zayn goes around, finishing putting things back to rights.

(He stoops once so Penn can trace the top line of the gravestone with a single, quivering finger. It feels like a period. Like an end.)

Girl on his back and parcels in his hands, he starts the trek out of the cemetery, picking his way along the dew-slicked hill carefully. It’s not until they’ve almost crossed the threshold out of the burying-ground that Penn moves, blowing out a shaky breath and a confession.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He replies less than a heartbeat later.

“I know.”

(It breaks his heart, just a little bit.)