#plus it's sort of prequel-y

[shion-yu]

False Alarm

Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be. An early Cliff and Theo/Al story, mostly fluffy banter and then some angst. 2,810 words, no TWs but CWs low intensity hospital setting, transplant talk, mention of internalized homophobia.

Cliff wasn't sure what to make of Theo, the lawyer he was doing his summer internship with before he started his first semester at NYU. When Cliff thought about what a lawyer should look like, he had certain expectations. A lawyer was extremely formal, never smiled or laughed, never asked questions, and always wore a suit. The only one of these qualities that Theo possessed was the suit wearing, and even then he could occasionally be caught wearing khakis and a button down. 

The craziest thing about Theo though, was that he was openly gay and no one seemed to care. It floored Cliff. His mom had always looked down on gay couples they saw in public. She looked down on everyone, but especially people who "chose" to stand out. Yet here Theo was, with a big office overlooking the financial district and an incredible case record under his belt and nobody ever seemed to disrespect him. He even had a picture of his partner on his desk where anybody could see, including the clients who came for consultations and business partners whose opinions really mattered. Cliff didn't understand how Theo got away with it, but he did. It definitely left an impression.

This particular day though, Theo seemed frazzled and distracted. Cliff was sitting across from him in Theo's office just having his weekly check-in with the lawyer. Theo usually seemed very put together and focused, but today he kept checking his personal cell phone on his desk like he was waiting for something. "So Cliff," Theo said, "Still think you'd like to go to law school after your first month here?"

"I think so," Cliff said. He tried not to watch as Theo glanced at his phone yet again. "I like the research. And I like going to court."

"You've certainly got the brains for it," Theo said. "When you're at NYU, take lots of diverse classes. Everything can always tie back into law and make you better at practicing it."

"Thanks," Cliff said.

"No problem," Theo said casually, but he was immediately distracted when his phone buzzed with a call. He looked at the caller ID and nearly jumped out of his seat. "Sorry Cliff, I've got to take this," Theo said hurriedly. "You're fine here, just, hey, pour yourself a coffee or something." Theo motioned to the full coffee pot on one of his other desks and then stopped paying attention to Cliff.

Cliff tried not to be nosy and listen, but it was hard not to when they were in the same room. He made himself a cup of coffee even though he preferred tea and sipped awkwardly. He hoped it gave the impression he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation Theo was having that clearly was not about work. "Are you sure that's all it is?” Theo was saying, his voice concerned. “Tomorrow? What time? Does he need to stay overnight? NPO after midnight? Okay. Yes, of course. Thank you Doctor."

Theo set his phone down, took a deep breath and then sat back in his office chair. "Sorry Cliff," he said. "You can come back now."

Cliff awkwardly returned to his seat a cross from Theo, placing the steaming cup of coffee on a coaster at the edge of Theo's desk. "That was my partner's doctor, I've been waiting for that call, sorry to be so distracted," Theo said. "He's going to the hospital for a minor procedure tomorrow, so I probably won't see you for the rest of the week." 

"Oh," Cliff said. What else was he supposed to say? "I hope he's okay."

"He's fine, thank you," Theo said. "He's got a port, I don't know if you're familiar, it's like an IV in his chest. Anyways, it got infected so they're replacing it with a new one." Cliff honestly had no idea what Theo was talking about, but it sounded serious. It seemed Cliff wasn't very good at hiding his expression, because Theo added, "He's got a disease called cystic fibrosis, so he's in and out of the hospital a lot. I don't want to say it's not a big deal, but well, it's not an emergency. Don't worry." 

"Okay," Cliff said. He nodded to the framed photo on Theo's desk. In it, a slightly younger Theo had one arm slung over the shoulders over a guy with curly dark hair, thick glasses and dimples. "That's him, right?"

"Yup," Theo confirmed. "His name's Al. He's a good guy." The way Theo was smiling as he said this was different from the way Theo usually smiled at everybody else. Cliff didn't know how to define it - fond, perhaps? "Next time he comes around I'll let you meet him. You'd like him." Now Theo had a weirdly knowing look on his face, as if he understood something Cliff didn't. 

"Sure," Cliff said. He was so confused. 

His confusion didn't abate even when he did meet Al about three weeks later. Al was shorter than Theo and wore very casual clothing that stuck out in the law firm. His cheeks were pink compared to the rest of his olive skin, which Cliff soon realized was from coughing. Al coughed the entire time he was in the office to drop off a lunch for Theo, and he dragged a metal cylinder on wheels behind him that connected to clear oxygen tubing in his nose. Cliff was startled; the oxygen hadn't been in the picture, nor had he expected Al to sound quite so sick. But everybody else in the office seemed to know Al well and think nothing of it. Al himself seemed energetic and cheerful, which was not how Cliff pictured somebody sick in his head.

Still, Cliff wasn't used to sick people, even if Al was apparently not contagious. He was sort of hoping Theo had forgotten about his promise to let him meet Al, but Cliff had no such luck. "Al, this is my intern, Cliff Barrows," Theo said as he led Al right to Cliff's desk.

Obviously unable to hide when his boss stood right in front of him, Cliff stood up and forced a polite smile. "Nice to meet you," Cliff said, sticking his hand out to shake.

"Nice to meet you too! I finally meet the famous Cliff," Al grinned, shaking Cliff's hand. His grip was firm and sure, not weak at all.

"Famous in a good way," Theo reassured Cliff. "I told him all about what a good kid you are."

"Uh, thanks," Cliff said, trying to keep a questioning tone from creeping into his voice. He felt awkward standing right there in front of the two of them under scrutiny. "Um... I'm just gonna get back to work then," he said, sitting at his desk and typing something nonsensical into an open word document until he was sure the pair was no longer looking at him. 

Cliff tried to look subtle as the two men walked away. Theo led Al towards his office with one hand around Al's back, Al coughing as they went, but he was also laughing. Cliff had no idea how he could seem so happy. Cliff had googled cystic fibrosis when Theo had mentioned it and it didn't really sound like a laughing matter to him. It sounded incurable and painful. Then again, Cliff supposed they couldn't be gloomy all the time. Or maybe even most of the time, since Al and Theo seemed to be normal unlike Cliff who could indeed go around with a perpetually serious look on his face. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Al sat heavily in the chair on the client side of Theo's desk, coughing until Theo handed him a glass of water to sip on. "Thanks," he croaked, smiling up at his partner gratefully. 

Theo sat across the desk from Al in his chair. Although Al got to see Theo in his formal attire every day before and after work, seeing him wear it at work always felt different. Theo carried himself so confidentially and spoke with such a professional tone, it honestly made Al want to grab his tie and kiss him right there in the office. Theo's desk had definitely seen some action after hours before.

"Stop looking at me like that," Theo said, opening up the salad Al had brought him.

"Like what? I don't know what you're talking about," Al said innocently.

Theo mixed a packet of dressing up with his salad. "Like I'm a piece of meat."

"Aren't you?" 

Theo shook his head with a smirk. "You're so damn predictable," he said. "You keep your hands to yourself mister, I've got court later today. Thanks for the food." 

"You're welcome," Al said. "By the way, you were so right about that Cliff kid." 

"Right?" Theo said around a mouthful of lettuce. "He's definitely gay."

"So gay," Al agreed. "And adorably awkward.”

“He’s actually a better speaker than you might think,” Theo said thoughtfully. “When it comes to work stuff anyways,” he added, seeing Al’s incredulous look of doubt.

“He gave me the ‘wow, you must be dying’ look,” Al said. “You should probably tell him I’m fine. And that his face is an open book." 

Theo shrugged. “I don’t know how reassuring ‘My partner’s fine, just waiting for a double lung transplant’ is, but sure, I’ll tell him.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he said sarcastically. “Anyways, I’m heading home. What do you want to eat tonight?” 

“Anything. Shake Shack. Anything."

"So... Shake Shack," Al said. 

"How did you know?" Theo grinned. "Okay, be careful on your way home baby. Wear your mask on the train."

"Ugh, Theo, it's July," Al whined, but Theo knew he would behave. Al was usually great about taking care of himself, but especially now when he couldn't risk any illnesses lest it ruin his chances of being on the transplant list. It was also why he tried not to leave the house much these days, but he'd had a doctors appointment a few blocks away so had taken the opportunity of already being out to visit Theo. 

Theo kissed Al goodbye and watched his partner walk down the street from the windows in his office, dragging the wheeled oxygen tank behind him. He shook his head, wishing Al would just take a cab, but Al hated wasting money if he could do it the cheaper way and Theo suspected it was far more about independence than cost at this point in their lives. 

They'd been together about five years now and had lived with each other since day one, having met as roommates. Theo had been in his last year of law school while Al was struggling after the death of his husband. At first they were just friends and that was enough. Right person, wrong time Theo thought, because it didn't seem like Al was ready for anything more. But then Al had gotten really sick and although he insisted Theo didn't need to worry about it, it was impossible. Theo spent every day studying at the hospital so that Al wouldn’t be alone until feelings became inevitable and Al made the first move. The rest was history. 

Theo smiled to himself thinking about Al, absently eating his salad until he was interrupted by his phone ringing. It was Al, which was odd because Al had only just left his office. "Babe? You okay?" Theo answered.

"Meet me at the hospital," Al said in a breathless rush. "I’ve got lungs."

Theo was speechless. This was the moment they'd dreamed of for months, and it was happening now. Right now. "Theo?" Theo realized he hadn’t said anything in response.

"Holy shit. Holy shit, I love you so much. Yeah, okay, I'm coming."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

False alarms for this sort of thing should be illegal, Theo thought to himself angrily. The doctor had just left the room and explained he was so sorry, but the lungs weren't a perfect match after all. They were going to someone else - someone who wasn't Albert. Al had been congenial about it, nodding as if it didn't bother him. But Theo was livid and could barely contain his anger as the doctor closed the door. 

The silence in the room was heavy. Al had been changed into a gown, given CHG bath and gotten labs done, and had his port hooked up to fluids. He sat there in the hospital bed where they'd waited with excitement for the past two hours, now lost for words. 

"It's not fair," Theo said finally. His hands were balled into fists, which were shaking. "How can they do this?" Al was quiet. He looked out the window with a calmness that Theo didn't understand. "You're not mad?" 

"No," Al said softly. "I'm not mad. Can we go home though?" He was already going for his clothes, unbuttoning his gown. "Hey, if you hurry you can still make it to court this afternoon." 

Theo shook his head. "I don't care about court. I already told work I didn't know when I'd be back. They're going to be more surprised when I say nevermind." 

"Sorry," Al said, as if he’d ruined a casual date and not lost the opportunity of a lifetime after it was crudely dangled in front of him.

"Don't apologize," Theo said. "If anything, this place should be apologizing to you. How are you so calm?"

Al shrugged. "Someone else is getting lungs. Someone who needs them. I'm not going to be mad about that."

Theo sighed. "You're right, but I'm still pissed. Can I be pissed for you?"

Al seemed to consider it for several seconds and then nodded. "Yeah. You can be pissed for both of us, okay?" 

"I gotcha, baby," Theo said. He forced a tight smile at Al, who gave a tired smile back. 

Al was discharged and they arrived home around dinner time. Theo was starving, but Al said he didn't feel like eating. Theo didn’t feel like seeing anybody else for the rest of the day, even a delivery driver, and ended up throwing a frozen pizza in the oven. He called Al to the table when it was ready, hoping the smell would entice him. "You should eat just a little," Theo said. 

"I'm really not hungry," Al said quietly. "I just want to go to bed and have this day be over."

Theo felt a pang of pity and sighed. "I know. Just a few bites?"

Al finished half a slice and then shuffled off to bed. Theo ate the rest of the pizza alone, letting all the negative thoughts he was having get to him for just a few minutes. He chewed the pizza like it had personally done something offensive to him and then scrubbed the dishes clean, his stomach aching from eating too much. Then, he took a shower and forced himself to let all the tension leave him. He imagined it swirling down the drain with the soapy water, leaving him exhausted but calm. As upset as Theo was, Al was the one these things were happening to. He had to be strong for Al. 

Theo went to the bathroom, now in fresh pajamas and ready to be there for his partner. Al was lying on his side but not asleep and peeked over his shoulder at Theo. Theo sat next to him on bed and rested a hand on Al's arm. "Should we talk about it?" He asked.

"Nah. What is there to talk about?" Al said in his usual gentle tone. If Theo didn't know any better, he'd think Al didn't care, or was totally fine. But he also knew that wasn't possible and Al hid his feelings well. 

"What happened today was kind of crazy," Theo said carefully. "Crazy and honestly... not okay. It was like the biggest news of your life and then the biggest let down. It's a lot to take in."

Al sat up and looked at Theo. His green eyes were always so forbearing. "It is a lot," he said. "But ya know, I'm not as upset as I thought I'd be. Coz when I got the call, I didn't think, 'I'm going to live.' All I could think was, if I die, I'm not ready. So... Maybe today just wasn't the right time."

Theo hadn't expected Al to say anything like that. He swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat and took Al's hands in his own. "You're right. It wasn't meant to be, and maybe it was for the better."

Al nodded in agreement, leaning forward to press his forehead against Theo's. "I love you, Theo," he said. "Thanks for being there for me." 

"I love you too," Theo said, taking Al’s hands in his own and squeezing them. "And next time you get the call, it's going to be the right match."

[nebulablakemurphy]

Haymitch Abernathy & The Dead Donner Girl

Summary: Haymitch is forced to mentor the niece of his former ally, aka the prequel to all things Moves & Countermoves. (Warning: Sunrise on the Reaping spoilers.)

Ghosts are real, Haymitch knows this to be true the first time he catches a glimpse of the Mayor’s youngest daughter. Madge Undersee is a spitting image of her Aunt, Maysilee Donner. It ruins the rest of his day. His month really, or year, maybe even his life, but who’s counting.

The image of Y/N Undersee peeling off that same little girl’s desperate hands, after her name is called at the reaping, will haunt him now too.

“Madge pie, I have to go now.” Y/N tries to reason with her, but Madge only wails louder.

Eventually Mayor Undersee comes to collect her, giving his eldest daughter a pat on the cheek. “We’ll sort this out, don’t you worry.”

Y/N does not worry. Making her way to the stage with her head held high.

Just like Maysilee.

The male tribute Tyson, joins her there shortly after.

“This year’s tributes from District Twelve, Y/N Undersee and Tyson Carell.”

Fifteen and Seventeen, the mayor’s kid and a boy from the seam. What a pair they make.

————————————————————————

Haymitch is allowed half an hour of solace before those damn kids are pounding down his door. The gentle rocking of the train temps him with the promise of sleep. But they just keep knocking until he has no choice but to answer. “Are your hands bleeding yet?”

“You’re supposed to be our mentor,” Tyson reminds him.

“That I am.” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“Yeah, generally speaking that means you’re supposed to be with us.” The girl’s voice is grading, harsh against his ears.

“If you need to be mentored on how to sit on a train, you’re never going to last in the games.” Haymitch retorts, “come back and bother me tomorrow once we’re in the Capitol. Maybe I’ll have something useful for you then.”

The door slams in their faces as quickly as it opened.

“Alright,” Tyson laughs, “he’s an ass.”

“Mhm,” Y/N hums her agreement.

————————————————————————

They don’t bother with their would be mentor again, electing to band together instead. Between the two of them, Y/N and Tyson decide that he should ask most of the questions.

“Don’t take it personally.” Tyson says, chowing down on his plate of hastily arranged treats. “Not everyone is gonna like you.”

“You should try the purple pastries.” She tells her partner, “they’re the best.”

“I almost forgot,” he grumbles, around a mouthful of food. “You get to eat like this all the time.”

“Not all the time.” Y/N lifts a shoulder. “Only on special occasions.”

“If I win, I’m eating these every day.” Tyson decides after his first bite.

Y/N huffs a laugh.

“I’m taking you with me to the end, of course.”

“Because I recommend the pastry?”

Tyson nods, “proves you have good taste. Plus, you’re the Mayor’s kid, gives you some pull in the Capitol. Could get us sponsors.”

“It could.” Being the Mayor’s kid didn’t spare her from the reaping.

“We should make a list of our strengths and weaknesses.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Anything off the top of your head? Any secret talents? Things you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Y/N replies. “But I can juggle. How about you?”

“I’m afraid of being eaten alive.” Tyson ticks a finger against his lips, “as for talents, I can do cartwheels.”

“Cool.”

“So if you die and I win this thing, who am I looking after back home for you?” He does not beat around the bush; never has. Even if it cost him a friend or two.

Y/N sinks further into her chair, “my sister. Her name’s Madge.”

“What about your folks?” Tyson arches a dark brow.

“My dad will be alright, it’s my mom I worry about.” She’s been through alot. ‘Family business’ which Y/N is forbidden to speak of. Not that it matters now.

“Why?”

“My mom had twin sisters. One died in the games, the other-” Aunt Merrilee couldn’t stand her own reflection after that. The grief got her. “She died of a broken heart.” That’s the polite way of saying it. “My mom started taking morphling after. The doctors said it would help, most days she can’t get out of bed.” If I die, the last of the Donner sisters may follow.

“Well if you win, I’ve got a long list of requests.” Tyson has twelve younger siblings.

Haymitch joins them sometime later, making for the toast and jam.

“Saved some for you.” Tyson jerks his chin toward the breakfast spread.

“How kind,” Haymitch grumbles.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s stylist takes a real liking to dressing her in one of a kind pieces.

“You’re my muse.” Unlike most, Vanity, with her skin painted gold and a pastel green wig, fusses over her tribute.

She welcomes the girl’s suggestions, putting a new spin on tired Capitol fashion.

Haymitch drinks, occasionally chiming in to correct Y/N and Tyson in their planning, but for the most part they are left largely alone. Scoring seven and eight respectively, admirable numbers for twelve.

It’s not until the night before their interviews that the girl finally snaps at him.

“Relax, Y/N.” Tyson rolls his eyes, “he’s just being an ass again.”

Haymitch, as usual, does not spare a glance in her direction.

“Stop acting like a child and look at me!” Her words echo through their floor of the tribute center.

“I don’t want to look at you!” Haymitch scoffs, “I look at you and all I see is another dead Donner girl. I don’t want any more of your blood on my hands.” From Maysilee in the arena, to Merrilee who took her own life a few years later. Maybe if he hadn’t called her Maysilee that day while he was losing his mind… Now Y/N will join them, in a sea of crimson he will never be free of.

“I-” the girl’s cheeks heat up, from anguish or rage, she herself is not sure. “I’m not a Donner girl. I’m an Undersee.”

Haymitch grunts, still averting his eyes.

“And if I really am gonna be dead in a few days, that was a shitty thing to say.”

“What do you want from me, girl?”

“I want you to help us!”

“Help you?” Haymitch downs his glass, “I can’t help you.” He already is, as much as he can. Not for the girl standing before him, but for the girl who isn’t. The girl he’s reminded of each time he sees the locket around her niece’s neck. He’s pulling sponsors as best he can for Maysilee. In her honor. That’s all he can do.

“You’re the only one outside the arena who can.” Y/N challenges, “it’d do you well to remember that.”

Haymitch doesn’t want to remember, he drinks to forget.

————————————————————————

As the lights of the hovercraft transporting his tributes to the arena disappear from view, Haymitch is finally able to breathe again. To think and compose himself now that he is no longer face to face with the dead Donner girl.

She exists only on the giant screen of the viewing room, somehow she is easier to stomach this way. No chance she might reach out and drag him back to his own personal hell.

But time proves him wrong, this is hell. Waiting to watch the Donner girl die. There is no way she’ll live, even with sponsors lining up, money in hand. If money could buy her freedom, she’d never have set foot in the arena.

The bloodbath is over. Tyson takes Y/N and runs, in search of water and high ground. Maybe if they’re lucky, some shelter from the boiling sun.

The landscape is full of sandy dunes and rock, no visible water source and absolutely no shade. The arena’s ceiling is visible to the naked eye, which hasn’t happened in years. Meaning the border must be significant, though Haymitch can’t yet say why.

That is until the next day, when the arena flips on its head, funneling the remaining tributes through a narrow opening to the other side. It’s an hourglass, one that is slowly filling with sand.

————————————————————————

Like clockwork, the hourglass flips. Several tributes are lost in the transition, suffocating beneath the sand. As they regain their bearings, Y/N and Tyson find themselves beside a pile of sand towering high enough to block most of the artificial sun.

“What’d you think? Should we climb it?” Tyson asks his district partner, teasingly.

She is two years his junior, still not an idiot. This is no hiking expedition. “No, we should save our strength, like Haymitch said.”

“Did you know the tallest mountain in the world was called Mount Everest? Before the founding of our great nation?” He presses on, largely ignoring Y/N’s sage advice.

“What do they call it now?” She wonders.

“Trick question; tallest mountain in the world was actually Mauna Kea.”

“Now’s a bad time for trivia.” Y/N decides, a hand at her brow.

“It’s the only time we’ve got.”

————————————————————————

Parachutes provide most food and water. With only a small desert lake resembling a mirage to drink from, and passing seagulls for sustenance.

Seven tributes remain when the mutts are released. Long, fat worms with horrible teeth, designed to blend in with the sand. Burrowing beneath the skin and leaching blood from their hosts.

The cannon sounds four times in quick succession, only three tributes left as the hourglass turns. Dumping them onto a thin layer of sand, it continues raining down over them. They’ve run out of time.

The shift twists Tyson’s leg at an unnatural angle, snapping the bones.

“Ahhh!”

Y/N carefully assess the damage.

“It’s bad,” Tyson says, through gritted teeth. “I can’t walk.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “I’ll find something and make a splint. You’re fine.”

“Y/N, there’s nothing here.” He pants out, fighting the urge to faint.

In some sick way it is for the best, fate has decided for them. He would never be able to kill this girl, anymore than she could kill him. Not after days spent halving their food to keep two bellies half full. No, he could not harm a hair on her head.

“Then I’ll-”

Rex must be out there, searching for them. They need to act fast.

“You have to keep going.”

“No,” Y/N argues. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can, you’re not afraid of anything, remember?” The boy smiles, despite his agony.

“I lied,” Y/N confesses. “I’m scared of being alone.”

“You won’t be alone, I’m right here and everyone back home is with you, Everyone is here, chanting your name. You won’t be alone.”

“Ok,” Y/N whispers, starting up the dune on shaky legs.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” It is silly, but somehow it helps.

The worms are closing in but the compact sand pile seems to derail them. Y/N is thankfully spared the higher she climbs.

Tyson is chopping at the creatures with his axe, keeping them from latching onto his leg despite their best efforts. Perhaps they smell all the blood.

Rex uses the distraction to make a run for the top. He doesn’t bother with the boy from twelve, he won’t last long in this condition. At present, the girl is his biggest threat, and Rex will damned if he spent the better part of his life training only to be bested by a girl from the poorest district in Panem.

“Y/N, look out!” Tyson calls.

She hears the sickening squelch of his axe land in Rex’s back before she has a chance to look at all. “Tyson!” She knows full well it was his last line of defense against the mutts.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Her partner remarks, hauling his mangled leg up the grainy hill.

The boy from one is not willing to wait, he’s out for blood. His chest rattles with each breath, and droplets of red begin to leak from the corners of his mouth. Still he draws his dagger, pointed at Y/N. “Ladies first.”

Her first instinct is to run, but with the arena nearly full and the worms below, she is out of good options. She draws her weapon.

Rex lunges for Y/N, knocking her backwards and landing on top. A cloud of dust blooms out, blinding them both, his dagger lost in the tussle.

She continues swinging at him with her knife until it finally connects with his right hand; slicing off his index, middle and ring fingers, in one clean stroke.

The severed digits land against her chest, weighing her down as the boy looks to his mangled hand in horror.

Y/N’s eyes widen, “I’m sorry.”

Tyson yells. “Don’t stop!” Despite his injuries, he’s clawing his way up to avoid the mutts below.

“Please, I’m sorry.” Y/N sobs. For whatever she’s done to deserve this. Sorry to Rex, and the other tributes, to her family and her district. Sorry to Tyson most of all. “I’m sorry.”

Rex wraps his good hand around her throat.

“Y/N, fight! Do it now.”

Her broken body screams in protest. Sheer adrenaline drives the knife into the side of his neck. His blood burns her sun blistered skin. “I’m sorry.”

Rex grabs for his injury, tumbling down the pile of sand. His cannon sounds before he hits the ground.

Any way you spin it, District Twelve just won the games.

Tyson has finally made his way up to collapse beside her. He’s bleeding a lot more than she is. “We showed him, huh?” The boys chokes out. “Haymitch will have to eat his words.”

Y/N is not a Donner girl, said so herself.

“Tributes, please reclaim your weapons.” A disembodied voice, from the sky, demands.

“That’s alright. Can’t feel my hands.” He can’t feel the mutt latched onto him anymore either. He can’t feel anything at all. “But check out the view from up here.”

Y/N is in no position to heed either command. The too bright sun is going dark, her vision tunneling.

Tyson murmurs, “just like being at the top of Mount-”

Boom.

Everest.

The viewing room erupts into chaos as the winner of the sixtieth Hunger Games is announced. And the dead Donner girl lives to haunt him another day.

For you, sis. I saved her for you.

Part 2

[writingoddess1125]

i know request are closed but could you post pt 2 of the darling dove? its cute, also maybe a small blurb of them meeting?

I Gotchu Darling! I may have had a manic episode with 3 monsters and pumped this out baby!!

Pt 1 <-

Pt 2 <-

And the Prequel Special!

The Kings Meets A Dove

König x Plus Size Reader

Warning: Medic Stuff (Like war, blood, etc mention), Awkwardness, Fluff, Funny Too

It was your first week as a medic, and you were still getting used to the chaos of the field. Blood, Bullets and Honestly you had really trying to get the stomach of this place.

You had secretly puked twice behind the tent already.

However you had already fucked truly up- Instead of thinking of 'This is a war zone' maybe dress like it- you had stupidly worn perfectly bleach white Scrubs.

The other nurses had already teased you all day about the impracticality of your outfit, but you had committed at this point- Fact is you didn't even have time to take a piss let alone change uniforms..

"(Y/N)" The head nurse called, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"You’ve got a new patient. Cot six. Staff Sergeant Felix König. Shrapnel wound to the left arm. He’s been cleared for basic care for the next few weeks, so you’ll be his primary nurse while he’s here." You knew this was the nurse way of throwing you a bone- a green nurse getting a fairly easy case.

You nodded quickly, glancing toward cot six quickly.

And then you froze.

Sitting on the cot was the largest man you’d ever fucking seen. He was easily over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a frame that made the cot look like it belonged in a child’s playroom.

Honestly he was honestly cute.. Except for one thing that stuck out to you.

The whispy ginger mustache on his upper lip- it looked so out of place for him.

Your brain cycling through why-

Just..

Why!?

You must have been staring way too long cause his sharp blue eyes were scanning the room clearly feeling someone staring, and when they landed on you, they narrowed slightly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you realized he’d caught you.

Quickly you look back at your head nurse seeing him smirk at you- This wasn't a nice easy one, he was giving you the scariest looking guy in this damn tent!!

Dickhead!

Swallowing your nerves, you walked over clutching your clipboard like a lifeline. "Staff Sergeant König? I’ve been assigned as your primary nurse while you’re here my name is (Y/N)"

He nodded once, his expression unreadable as you felt like crying on the inside.

For a moment, there was silence, and then he spoke, his surprising light voice but carrying a hint of disapproval.

"White uniform," he said bluntly, pointing to you. "You’ll be a easy target, very stupid way to die Täubchen."

You blinked, caught off guard by whatever he just called yoh and the criticism. Your cheeks flushed, and you straightened your posture, annoyed.

You don't comment however, going on with routine as you examine him- He stares at you as you still can't really read his expressions.

As you turn to leave- you hear him again.

"See already blood.. not a good look-" You turn to see him pointing to your side were indeed there is a nice little red stain on your uniform most likely from when you had changed his bandage. You glare at him- Having heard about this stupid white uniform all damn day you sort of snap-

"Well, that ginger mustache isn’t doing you any favors either so shut up about the uniform-"

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze.

So did König

His hand instinctively went to his face, touching the wispy, ginger mustache he’d secretly been proud of. His ears turned red, and he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

You, equally mortified over the snap remark which you regretted immediately, mumbled something about checking on another patient and hurried away leaving König sitting there stunned.

The next day, you returned to König’s cot, your white uniform replaced with standard-issue military scrubs.

You hesitated before approaching damn near hiding behind the curtain for a split second, clutching your clipboard like a shield. König for his part, was sitting up straight, his face now very clean-shaven.

You silently thank heaven that the ginger mustache was gone- showing a far cuter face then befkre.

You stared at each other for a moment, the air thick with awkwardness.

"Sorry-" König said first.

You blinked a bit surprised then let out a small, nervous laugh. "I should be the one apologizing first... I shouldn’t have said that about your mustache. That was unprofessional. Im really sorry"

König shook his head, his sort of stoic expression softened by a hint of embarrassment. "No, I... I shouldn’t have said youd die.. It was... rude."

There was a pause, and then you smiled faintly- clearly seeing how awkward he fucking was.

"For what it’s worth, the scrubs are probably a better choice. And... you look really cute." You didn't say without the mustache though.

König’s ears turned red again, but this time, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Täubchen" he said quietly.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling softly. "That word, what does it mean?"

König paused for a second clearly going through his head for the translation.

"Eh.. Little Dove... cause of the white uniform you wore"

Your face flushed at this, as he gives a shy smile.

The tension between you eased, replaced by something either of you really knew what it was. But happy it was there.

Over the next few weeks, as you tended to his wound and König adjusted to life in the medical tent very well, mainly due to you- the two of you found yourselves talking more each visit or when König decided he needed to stretch his legs and would visit your station. You had grown to realize that König unreadable expressions was just a very awkward tendency- making him look scary when in reality he was trying to not walk away as fast as possible.

However it seemed the more you two talked the more at ease he was-

Which often ending up with the two of you in fits of giggles-

Like during one of the days when you were changing his bandages mildlessly chatting and at the nearest station a soilder and nurse started to fight with each other.

The nurse screaming out how he came back positive for a laundry list of sexual stds which he tested positive for and him throwing back he was sure she had given half of them to him. Turning into a screaming match of what they did or didn't do during sex as a weapon against each other for everyone to hear and see.

Slowly you reach over closing the curtain of the cot as if some sort lf way to block out the argument.

You two look at each other- König shoulders shaking as he had a hand over his face- you biting your lip to keep from starting to laugh, before the dam broke and you two hear it.

"I KNOW YOU FUCKED THAT DONKEY!" Be screamed out by the nurse- You and König falling over as you two silently laugh so hard you start to physically cry and König rolled to the floor shaking and laughing like a windex bottle.

It was the most fun either of you had in a while- somehow the harshness of war and blood seemed just a tiny bit easier when you guys were close.

By the time König was cleared to return to duty, you had been rushed to the other side of the medical tent seemingly helping out one of your superiors.

König’s standing there for a moment, Wondering if he should say anything.. Normally he would have just walked out and prayed to a silent God to never come back to this tent..

However that wasn't the case this time.. He may not like the tent, but he liked being with you in the tent.

König glanced out of the tent for a moment, then back at you.. for a second he turned to just leave and just accept he may never see you again. Till he heard you laugh at something it just made his chest do backflips.

He closed his eyes for a second- Willing himself as he walked over to you. Seeing you washing your hands at the sink set up- ignoring the blood going down the drain.

"(Y/N)-"

You look up to him and smile drying off your hands quickly.

"König! I'm glad to see you, I'd thought you'd left already" You say, happy to see him before you assume he ran back to the field.

"I am about to- But.." He hesitated for a moment, shifting his boots to the ground as you looked up to him raising an eyebrow.

"Do you want to grab drinks?.. With me?" He managed out, stuttering a tiny bit as he did so as he mentally slapped himself- Looking to your face expecting rejection but instead you seem to light up giving him the biggest smile he'd ever seen that would forever be seered in his brain.

"I'd love to"

[anthurak]

Why Less is More when it comes to mech-series casts in SRW

One of the interesting things I’m sure most people have noticed about the series roster for Super Robot Wars Y so far is just how small it is compared to other entries in the franchise. At just eight entries, it’s a full half the roster of Super Robot Wars 30, and that’s with specifically omitting 30’s titles that were just adding a specific mech or two (like how the original Mobile Suit Gundam is represented only by the RX-78 being an available mech for a post-CCA Amuro to pilot), the various crossover appearances of previous SRW Original Generation characters added in free updates, or the shows added via DLC and Expansions. If we include 30’s full roster, then Y’s entries so far don’t even hit a FIFTH of that.

Now obviously it sounds like we’re getting at least a few more entries in Y in addition to what’s been announced at the moment. But again, we would need to get double the number of shows announced so far before Y got to only just as many entries as 30 had.

And that’s not accounting for how at least some of those additional titles are almost certainly likewise going to be ‘mech only’ entries, like how we might get Macross 7 or Macross Frontier making an appearance just in the form of unlockable units. Or specific spinoffs of the already included shows that will take the form of additional characters and mechs to flesh out the roster but not really add additional story points. Like I wouldn’t be surprised if Code Geass’s entry was expanded from just Lelouch of the Resurrection to include Akito the Exiled and Oz the Reflection in the form of ‘Post-Series’ versions of those characters.

As an aside, I feel like there is a VERY good chance that we see both Code Geass: Roze of the Recapture and Macross Delta: ABSOLUTE LIVE as post-release DLC/Expansion content, in a similar vein to how 30’s expansions included a fair bit of continued story content following up from the base game.

What all this means is that I think it’s very likely that Super Robot Wars Y ends up having a roster of included mecha series a fair bit smaller than what we’ve seen in more recent SRW titles. Notably, even 30 had a slightly smaller roster than any entries in the proceeding ‘VTX Trilogy’ of games (16 compared to 18 or 19), and certainly much smaller than the absolutely LUDICROUS rosters of the Z series of games. Rather, Y may likely end up having a roster more around the size of the older handheld entries like J, W, K or L.

And you know, I think that might actually be a GOOD thing.

Because here’s where I talk about (part of) why Super Robot Wars W is one of my all time favorite entries in the franchise.

When it comes to story, writing and ‘universe blending’, basically everyone can agree that W is one of, if not THE best Super Robot Wars entry out there. It does a frankly incredible job of weaving multiple different mecha shows into an amazingly cohesive story that at many times even improves on some of the individual narratives. I means I could probably do a whole separate post on how W essentially builds an entirely separate PREQUEL show for Detonator Orgun that kind of completely changes who the real main character of that show is (if anyone wants that post, let me know XD).

Not only that, but W’s roster of shows are incredibly well fleshed out in terms of story, characters and mechs that appear in ways we RARELY ever see in other SRW games. Like other games will often really flesh out something like a third to half of their included shows while the rest are just sort of… there. Usually in the form of ‘their story already happened’. But W’s included shows get basically the FULL adaptation treatment pretty much across the board.

Like Super Robot Wars W adapts basically the ENTIRE stories of Gundam Wing Endless Waltz, Gundam SEED, Gundam SEED Astray (along with both Astray R and X Astray), Detonator Orgun (plus making a whole-ass prequel), Tekkaman Blade (both show and OVA), Mazinkaiser (OVA and Movie), GaoGaiGar (show and OVA), King of Beasts Golion (aka Voltron), Fullmetal Panic! (both the first anime and The Second Raid, plus bits of Fumoffu), AND Martian Successor Nadesico (both series and movie), all with surprisingly little cut out into terms of major narrative or character beats. And the bits that ARE cut usually take the form of ‘we’re NOT killing this character off and letting them stick around as a continued presence in the story’. I mean, not only does W not kill of Nadesico’s Gai Gaigouji, they have him stick around for the rest of the story, even into the Prince of Darkness movie complete with his own unique character model and custom Aestivalis!

The same goes for the included mech-roster for all these shows, which are frankly MASSIVE compared to other SRW games. I mean just look at the Playable Unit List for this game! It’s pretty much a given that most shows in an SRW game will see at least some of their lesser known mechs cut. But in W, basically the FULL mech roster from EVERY included series is available! Just to give an example, W is the ONLY Super Robot Wars game to feature the ENTIRE cast/mech-roster of GaoGaiGar through to the end of GGG FINAL. Alpha 3 had to cut Furyu and Rairyu, and later GaoGaiGar appearances haven’t included FINAL. But in W, by the end of the game the gang really is ALL here.

And the whole REASON W was able to do all this?

Well, because it happens to have just about the SMALLEST mecha-series cast list of any SRW game made in the last twenty-five years.

When you get down to it, Super Robot Wars W really only has NINE mecha-series’ in it. Technically ten, but Getter Robo Go is literally just the Shin Getter and pilots post-series who are effectively made part of the Mazinkaiser cast.

So if Super Robot Wars Y ends up having just nine, ten or eleven shows in its cast, I think that could likely end up being a GOOD thing. Because it most likely means that the production team will have been able to do so much MORE with those shows in terms of story, characters and playable mechs.

[pynkhues]

Oh you know I need your dream cast for a Succession prequel, Sophie

(x)

Okay okay okay, SO first thing's first, my dream Succession prequel is set against the 80s clusterfuck expansion into parks because every little bit of canon we got about that era just cooks. You've got Logan meeting Frank (and probably Gerri), Logan's whirlwind romance then toxic marriage to Caroline, Logan starting to have the golden trio and reconnecting with Connor and dealing with the aftermath of what happened to, and with, Connor's mother! Plus Ewan may or may not be still involved in the company? (I choose to think he is!)

As a result, a lot of my casting is partially determined by the age the characters would be then, which means I've had to change some actual dream casting (Romola Garai as 40yo Gerri, my beloved), but it's also a pretty fun era to think about so that's fine.

Anyway, let David Tennant as Young(er) Ewan invite you in:

I really love the Snr. Roy's being from Scotland, and their backstory feels so entwined with Scottish WWII history, so I wanted to honour that a bit in the fancasting, but all the same, I think I probably would've cast David Tennant anyway. I think he can sell that simultaneous moral superiority and absolute hypocrisy in a way that Ewan needs, and honestly, I just love the idea of him reading Jesse Armstrong's dialogue, haha.

Was Karl working for Logan in the 80s? I choose to believe yes, because I love him. Jack Lowden's been one of those actors who's popped up in a few things I've watched lately - Fighting with My Family, Small Axe and Slow Horses in particular, and I've been consistently pretty impressed with him? I think he's got a good handle of comedic timing (important for anyone taking up the Karl mantle) but also is a compelling dramatic actor and I think he could kill it opposite...

David Rysdahl as Young Frank! I've always figured Frank would've been a bit younger than Logan, and I love that little glimpse we got in canon of Frank having been brought in to advise on the parks acquisition and then Logan basically making him an offer to stay. There's something extra crunchy there for me if Frank's a little wide-eyed at the time and Logan oozes that charm that we know that he can turn on when he wants to. I like the psychosexual drama, and I also like the idea of Frank having this weird sort of connection to Caroline and Kendall because he met them while he was still impressionable / in the midst of being swept up.

But yes, haha, David Rysdahl I think is a bit of an up-and-comer, which is kinda funny given he's been in a lot of stuff. I've liked him though in the newest season of Fargo, and lowkey think he looks a bit like a young Peter Friedman.

Honestly, I just loved her in Swallow a lot, and she played the smart, unhappy, unhinged, WASP-y wife there to such perfection that I think she'd be ideal for a young Gerri who's still better known as Baird's wife than as counsel. There's such an attitude and vulnerability to Haley too which I think would match J's quite well, plus they have a bit of a similar look too which works for me? I want to see her claw her way in! And I also want to see her toxic relationship with Caroline which leads to her being Shiv's godmother.

Speaking of...

Honestly, I went through a few people for Caroline and she was surprisingly hard to cast. A lot of actresses who felt like they might fit the bill - Michelle Dockery and Claire Foy were two that sprung to mind - didn't really work as I didn't think they could quite balance the acidity with the blunt charm and playfulness that Harriet Walter just does so well (and honestly is a testament to what an actress she is). But then! Jessie Buckley! I've loved Jessie in everything I've seen her in, from Women Talking to The Lost Daughter, but it was actually thinking about her turn in Misbehaviour which made me think of her for this, exactly because of how she can play, well playfulness.

Plus I think she'd be a lot of fun opposite...

I did say I''d go with a Scotsman! Ewan McGregor's been in a few mmm, less good things lately, which makes a turn in a role like Logan Roy could potentially be pretty great. He's always been a remarkable actor, and one who, I think, can find the heart in any role, which is arguably what any actor playing Logan needs. Plus I always tend to think Ewan has chemistry with everyone he acts opposite, and I think he could really sell Logan's naked charisma in this era in a way that would make sense given he's making some pretty questionable choices across the board in the 80s. Plus, y'know, to the point of the post that inspired this one, I think him playing Logan would do a lot of psychic damage to people who could only ever see Logan as perpetrator of abuse and never as product or victim.

[glorismorningstar]

THE VIOLET CHRONICLES (& THE LION CHRONICLES) UPDATES

THE VIOLET CHRONICLES is the prequel to THE LION CHRONICLES, set in Heaven when Y/N and Lute first meet

I'll start working on it after LION

While LION consists of all 8 episodes plus an opening and a finale, it will be composed of 10 parts

Part 4 is in the works, idk when it will be out but it will be the most interesting one yet

It will contain at least 2 cameos that I love oh so much and deserve their place in the story :3 (no spoilers tho)

VIOLET chapters won't be as long as LION ones because they're not going to be divided by episode and because it's going to be a slow burn and will cover from when Lionspear first meets to the day of Y/N's fall

It's not completely worked our yet but it's generally plotted already, I need to divide the parts and figure out the details

Y/N is going to get lots of backstory and lore

Lute might be slightly OOC but I'm going to try to write her as canon as possible for a self indulgent story

VIOLET is also a sort of a long ploy to keep me busy until S2 of Hazbin comes out so I can write the second season of LION

So since that is going to contain several parts and S2 won't be out until late 2025 at best, I have other ideas as well

I might write some shorts about Y/N's relationship with other characters (e.g. Lucifer, Sera, Emily, St. Peter, Charlie, Rosie, Alastor, Adam etc.)

VIOLET will certainly be more than 15 parts, I just have to flesh them out

I'm going to work on other requests after LION as well, I promise (like the Vox and Pixel headcanons and some Lucifer requests that I got a handful of months ago)

Smol banner reveal

[erinhime83]

Happy Birthday, @callistochan87!

This isn't really a belated present. Part of the present, since it's simple and low effort, is allowing her to watch me work on it, and since I can only stream it for it on the weekend, I on;y have a limit amount of time to work on it. This is merely the finished product.

I had wanted to do Coral like I had done last year, because that era of the story is the one I like and the one I'm looking forward to. Plus, I sort of know what her design looks like and she's one of my favorite Aspera Virtus characters. But the thing is, this is a present for @callistochan87, and considering the fact that I tend to prefer presents featuring my favorite characters, I figured I'd go ahead and draw her current favorite as well. (Not current, Mikil has always been her favorite from this story for whatever reason. I've always disliked him, but eh, not my story/character.)

I know absolutely nothing about this character other than what I've gleamed from her posting on her and elsewhere. I'm a terrible friend and have no read what she's put up beyond chapter two of this prequel. I know I should, but I hesitate based on how much she shits on her own writing. (I'll probably do it over the Christmas holiday out of spite at some point, lol.)

There's not really much to say about this, sadly. It's just him standing there, chilling. He's supposed to be, like, holding his sleeve because it's kinda long, but he really looks like he's holding his side which apparently is pretty accurate for him? Yeah, I gotta read this to see how often she beats him up, lol.

It's stupid and it's simple, hut hopefully you still like it, @callistochan87!

[anakinskywalkerog]

hi olii!!! i feel like i havent popped in to say hello in ages, how are you? what do you think of my new icon? :D

i have been lurking on My Very Soul and i now remember the song i felt really represented anakin and (y/n) - Call You Mine by Bebe Rexha and the Chainsmokers (i think? i just remember the name of the song)

btw, i felt like i should share, but i made an anakin playlist! i keep adding more when i feel like it. i think some midnights belongs on here, so, soon!

i hope you dont mind me ranting to you about everything lmaoo, i cant wait for you to reply back *sheepish grin*

on the sw side: stoked for the ahsoka series soon! i made a new sw friend, she's awesome! we vibe to the prequels, and anakin, and the mandalorian! her leavers shirt was the anakin vs obi wan battle!

on the me side: things have been good! everything has picked up and got better since the whole diary fiasco, despite what i thought! i even made up with the girl who i said some awful thngs about. she's a swiftie, so it's easy XD (also she is machete's gf's bestie). she told me she got eras tour tickets, im so happy for her! her lit exam was literally on speak now tv. legend. i'm glad we're not fighting anymore. i made new friends, kept some of the old ones. if i could go back... i dont think i would change a single thing :") our finals are over, we're officially out for the summer (prom was amazing) ive been really really happy, and i hope you are, too ❤

on the sad beautiful tragic love life of sythe side: well, maybe not so sad or tragic, because... *drum roll* i have a boyfriend now! he is neither machete boy, or cranberry hehe. he's perfect and i adore him :D let's call him eli, but he sends me good morning messages, and has adorable nicknames for me, and makes me feel amazing ✨

it seems like machete and i have just magically cleared stuff up between us? he certainly doesnt seem to harbour any resentment towards me, or anything. we talk rarely when cranberry's with us, sort of like a mediator ? (cranberry is the unfortunate and accidental middleman lol, literally) although we do most of the talking without cranberry, sort of ignoring cranberry being there. we even have a snapstreak going. i've made peace with [the idea of] his girlfriend (she turns up in his snaps but it doesnt bother me anymore!) ; i found her tiktok and spotify a while back (not that i was looking for it). she has a playlist for machete with a bunch of swiftie songs too haha. it's different from mine. i think mine got really crazy because its sort of a mix between him and some other people, too, plus some songs are just there because i like them lmao

cranberry also has a girlfriend too now, i'm friends with her, but we're not close. it was sort of rocky between us for a while, and some weird stuff and some not cool stuff happened, but we stayed friends :) if i'm being honest, she's not the first person i would ship with him, but if he's happy, i'm happy!

another friend i might have dated is still around haha. let's call him han solo, because thats who he reminds me of. he's also cranberry's best friend! (he and cranberry insisted i write a fanfic for them hehe it was hilarious and caused chaos but everything's good!) he probably knows about eli by now. my friend, let's call her luna, is the captain of the sythe x han ship, but eli exists, and she knows it. but, she'll always ship me and han, i guess. he's nice, too. we only became friends in the period after everything with mchete and cranberry, so i don't think you've ever heard of him? but we had a blast towards the end of the year. we might even go to school together next year? i don't particularly want to make major life decisions over a guy who isn't even my boyfriend, but if we do, i would be really happy :)

all in all, i suppose it is a lovely end to a chaotic but perfect year ❤ i hope everyone gets all the love they deserve and live up to their full potential! it's made me realize that life is full of ups and downs, highs and lows, heartbreaks and falling in love, but in the end, everything always works out! i don't believe in luck, just hard work 💪

lots of love,

sythe x

hi sythe omg sorry I missed this!!! good to hear from you ❤️ new icon is very cute

omg I’m so happy your life is going so well!! happy for u that you found a nice bf who and that you are getting along with those girls. hopefully some of your good luck will rub off on me 🤦‍♀️ glad to know there’s still a bit of intrigue with this han guy. but you should definitely not make life decisions for a guy…there will be plenty more guys 😂 trust me. but eli sounds super sweet

thank you for sharing your playlist and also, I am SO excited for the Ahsoka series!! also glad you made a star wars friend!

my life has been a bit of a mess this summer haha but such is LIFE sometimes we are chaotic girls and I am just weathering until the storm passes currently

check in again soon! ❤️

[dreamer-in-firestorm-555]

GHOST – Skeletá

Le groupe de rock occulte Suédois GHOST va sortir son 6ème psaume via Loma Vista Recordings intitulé « Skeletá ».

Le pape du heavy rock ouvre ses entrailles dans un manichéisme entre forces obscures intérieures à combattre pour une catharsis extérieure. L’on peut y voir le « combat » à délivrer du mal que mène Ghost dans sa conquête pour anoblir une musique jusque là souterraine vers un public plus large, possédé par toute l’envergure tant du show conceptuel complet, que des mélodies contagieuses. Véritable lèpre pour l’underground réac qui préfère mourir de la peste noire que de subir la concupiscence d'harmonies AOR de ces apostats du metOl, ainsi que cette position du missionnaire de l’Entertainment qui profane le sanctuaire.

"Satanisé" par un personnage emblématique, Ghost suit les trajectoires prophétiques du spectacle shock rock initiatique d’un univers singulier, comme Alice Cooper, KISS, King Diamond, Manowar, Immortal, etc…Tobias Forge a inventé le personnage Papa Emeritus sur chacun des trois premiers LP du groupe, chaque version de Papa remplaçant celle qui la précédait. Papa Emeritus III a été retiré au profit de Cardinal Copia avec l’opus "Prequelle" en 2018, puis lors du dernier show à ​​Mexico Papa Emeritus IV a débuté son mandat pontifical avec comme point d’orgue l’opus "Impera" de 2022. Ce nouveau pontife Papa V Perpetua reconduit l’emblématique théâtralité de l’église de l’ ‘’occultisme entertainment’’.

Après des sujets sur les empires finalement « SKELETÁ » est un album plus proche de n’importe quel groupe qui parle d’un ressenti personnel, intemporel et universel, loin du concept album, d’un événement historique (Sabaton), ou comme une histoire revisitée par des allégories en rapport avec l’univers du groupe comme a pu le réaliser Ghost par le passé.

Produit par Gene Walker et mixé par Andy Wallace et Dan Malsch, les mélodies douces-amères avec un brin de muguet mélancolique enrichissent l’autel par une lumière divine à travers des vitraux jusque-là sombres. Ce qui est plaisant c’est de retrouver un Ghost plus heavy metal dans ses riffs, moins démoniaque à sortir un chapelet de sucre glace dans ses chansons embrumées d’un encensoir poppy. Les premiers disciples Ghostiens seront ravis du nouveau rituel, les profanes trouveront le spectacle fantasmagorique pour échapper du quotidien, comme il se doit.

De quoi parle ce disque ? D’un truc qui ronge à l’intérieur et qu’il faut guérir pour retrouver la voie…du seigneur ? ou du saigneur ? Est-ce que le monstre Ghostien engendré n’était-il pas en train de dévorer son créateur ? le chemin de la guérison s’affiche au gré des titres, et il y des petits cailloux au sol pour revisiter le chemin antérieur, non pour revenir au même endroit, mais puiser dans la sève de ce qui fut au départ comme une voie possible par une identité tant sonore que visuelle à l’impact indéniable… Les paroles sombres récusent la souffrance en contraste avec des mélodies plus insidieuses, ouvrant les perspectives reconnues d’hymnes AOR instantanément identifiable sur un riffing heavy et des shuffles mémorables. Il y a plus d’attention portée aux sentiments, et c’est nouveau, cela aère une humanité qui jusqu’à lors était noyée dans la société du spectacle de foire, acerbe, cynique…Une sorte de domination maléfique pour la réussite. Alors certes Ghost a réussi le pari fou d’engendrer un ogre de l’arène, une star pailletée par l’engrenage de sa singulière Eglise, aujourd’hui de nouvelle religion officie en parallèle et grignoter des croyants (Powerwolf), le prélat Ghostien apparait usé, fossilisé, grimé de la réputation de l'Évêque de Hereford (Robin des Bois). Ce colosse au pied d’argile passe dans son confessionnal et le mal introduit est exorcisé, aujourd’hui Ghost regagne l’intérêt par une musicalité envoutante bien plus élégante, précise, et heavy metal, qui ne souffre plus de sa grandiloquence générée par l’opus « Prequelle » en 2018, reste une vertu symptomatique pour l’accompagner dans son espérance hard rock poppy, le pardon !

GHOST se produira en France pour trois dates exceptionnelles : à Lyon le 26 avril, à Toulouse le 27 avril, puis à Paris le 13 mai.

[lifextime]

NieR Replicant ver.1.22474487139

Un chef-d'œuvre mélancolique, réinventé avec justesse...

NieR Replicant ver.1.22474487139... est une version améliorée du jeu culte sorti en 2010, développée par Toylogic et publiée par Square Enix. Ce prequel de NieR:Automata plonge le joueur dans un monde post-apocalyptique aussi poétique que désespéré, où un jeune homme part en quête d’un remède pour sauver sa sœur malade, Yonah. Mélangeant action-RPG, narration bouleversante et bande-son envoûtante, le jeu explore des thématiques profondes comme le sacrifice, l’identité et la douleur. Un chef-d'œuvre narratif aux multiples fins qui ne laisse personne indemne.

❥ Scénario & écriture

Nier Replicant est avant tout une œuvre narrative. Le jeu s’ouvre sur une trame simple en apparence : un jeune homme tente de sauver une proche atteinte d’un mal mystérieux. Mais ce qui semble être un RPG classique prend rapidement des allures de tragédie philosophique. L’histoire évolue lentement vers quelque chose de beaucoup plus complexe, existentiel, et émotionnellement bouleversant.

L’univers post-apocalyptique mélange ruines oubliées, magie ancienne et technologies disparues. Les villages sont rares, peuplés de personnages désabusés, et l’ambiance générale est teintée d'une profonde mélancolie. Chaque région raconte quelque chose du monde et de sa lente agonie.

Les personnages principaux — le protagoniste, Grimoire Weiss (le grimoire parlant), Kainé, et Emil — forment un quatuor inoubliable. Chacun possède une personnalité marquée, oscillant entre dureté et vulnérabilité. Les dialogues sont ciselés, humains, drôles et poignants, sans jamais tomber dans le cliché. Mention spéciale à Weiss, dont les répliques caustiques offrent un contrepoint rafraîchissant à la gravité ambiante.

Ce qui impressionne le plus, c’est la cohérence entre narration et gameplay : le rythme, les révélations, les moments de calme ou de tension suivent une construction dramaturgique solide, presque théâtrale. Le jeu parvient à faire résonner chaque action du joueur avec un sens plus profond.

❥ Direction artistique & technique

Visuellement, NieR Replicant version 1.22 est une relecture soignée de l’épisode sorti en 2010. Si techniquement il n’atteint pas les sommets des productions AAA récentes, sa direction artistique compense largement. Les paysages — forêts brumeuses, temples antiques, déserts écrasés de soleil — évoquent une beauté fanée, à la fois majestueuse et triste.

Les personnages principaux ont été retravaillés avec finesse, conservant leur identité tout en gagnant en expressivité. Les ennemis, eux aussi, bénéficient d’un soin particulier, notamment les Ombres, entités mystérieuses à l’animation presque spectrale.

Les cinématiques, nombreuses, sont superbes. Certaines sont marquantes à un point quasi cinématographique, mêlant mise en scène maîtrisée et musique poignante. À noter que les transitions entre gameplay et cut-scenes sont fluides, renforçant l’immersion.

Côté technique : quelques bugs mineurs peuvent apparaître (caméra capricieuse dans certains donjons, collisions étranges), mais rien de bloquant. L’expérience reste globalement stable.

Enfin, l’identité sonore est magistrale : les bruitages, les voix japonaises (ou anglaises) et les ambiances audio participent à l’atmosphère éthérée du titre.

❥ Gameplay & jouabilité

Le gameplay de NieR Replicant a été modernisé sans perdre l’âme de l’original. On y trouve :

Exploration libre, avec retour régulier dans les zones visitées. Bien que le monde soit semi-ouvert, les décors donnent envie de flâner et d’en apprendre plus sur cet univers mourant.

Quêtes secondaires nombreuses, inégales mais souvent utiles pour approfondir les personnages secondaires ou les enjeux du monde.

Système de combat fluide, entre action et magie. Les combos d’épée sont dynamiques, et les sorts s’intègrent naturellement dans les affrontements. La variété d’armes et d'améliorations donne une belle liberté d’approche.

Boss fights mémorables, avec des mécaniques de jeu souvent inattendues (shoot’em up, phases de puzzle, etc.).

Un level design simple mais lisible, parfois un peu trop linéaire, mais toujours efficace pour guider le joueur sans frustration.

La rejouabilité est capitale : NieR Replicant pousse à relancer le jeu pour découvrir la vérité sur les événements (plusieurs fins obligatoires pour saisir toute la portée du récit). Chaque nouvelle partie dévoile des éléments inédits bouleversants. Comptez environ 20-25 heures pour une première run, et jusqu’à 40-50 pour tout voir.

❥ Bande-son : une œuvre céleste

Composée par Keiichi Okabe, la bande-son de NieR Replicant est inoubliable. Les morceaux — mélange de chœurs en langue inventée, de mélodies mélancoliques au piano, ou de rythmes percussifs épiques — accompagnent parfaitement chaque émotion. Certains thèmes comme “Song of the Ancients”, “Shadowlord”, ou “Hills of Radiant Winds” font désormais partie des grandes pièces musicales du jeu vidéo.

La musique n’est jamais là pour remplir, elle sert le récit, et change même subtilement selon les moments, les zones, les événements. C’est un personnage à part entière.

Les points positifs & négatifs

🌸Points positifs

Scénario profond et bouleversant, avec une progression narrative maîtrisée

Personnages mémorables et bien écrits, attachants malgré leurs zones d’ombre

Dialogues ciselés, alternant humour, émotion et philosophie

Univers unique et mélancolique, à la fois mystérieux et poétique

Direction artistique forte, avec une vraie identité visuelle

Combats fluides et modernisés, entre action dynamique et magie

Boss fights marquants, variés et bien mis en scène

Multiples fins qui enrichissent l’histoire et donnent du sens à la rejouabilité

Bande-son exceptionnelle, immersive, émotionnelle et inoubliable

Cinématiques de qualité, bien intégrées au gameplay

🌸 Points négatifs

Technique parfois datée, malgré les améliorations (textures, animations, baisse de framerate)

Quêtes secondaires inégales, souvent très classiques voire répétitives

Backtracking un peu trop présent, qui peut ralentir le rythme

Caméra parfois capricieuse dans certains environnements fermés

Monde semi-ouvert un peu vide, avec peu de récompenses à l’exploration

Départ lent, qui pourrait décourager les joueurs impatients

❥Un dernier mot ..

NieR Replicant ver.1.22474487139… n’est pas un jeu parfait, mais c’est un jeu inoubliable. Il prend aux tripes, pousse à réfléchir, et offre une expérience unique, entre mélancolie et beauté. Yoko Taro signe ici une œuvre qui transcende le genre du JRPG pour devenir une véritable méditation sur l’humanité, la perte… et l’amour.

[plumdepan]

Quand j'écris des histoires dans mon sommeil...

Aujourd'hui, je voulais vous montrer comment mes rêves m'aident pour écrire mes histoires, plus particulièrement les Chroniques de Tuzi.

6 janvier 2024

En pleine réflexion entre choisir La fiancée de l'hiver ou La fiancée du printemps, cette partie est devenue un prequel de 100-year-old rabbit spirit.

C'est la deuxième fois que mes rêves me soufflent des idées pour 100-year-old rabbit spirit. La première fois, c'était à propos de la réincarnation de Tianyang.

25 janvier 2024 :

Encore une illumination en rêve : Dans 100-year-old rabbit spirit, quelqu'un (Jiamin ou Yixuan) trouve une perle de jade et se demande quels pouvoirs cette acquisition va lui apporter. Vu le ton sur lequel ça a été dit, je dirais plutôt qu'il s'agit de Yixuan. Ce qui voudrait dire que la pierre de lune est en réalité une perle de jade, de couleur blanche. Suite à ça, j'ai fait des recherches. Il existe belle et bien du jade blanc, avec une symbolique intéressante : pureté, harmonie et noblesse. Quant aux bracelets de couleur verte, ils apportent harmonie et chance.

30 avril 2024 :

Le rêve que j'ai fait cette nuit est très intéressant, surtout le motif : Jiamin tient un éventail noir, tout en positionnant ses mains dans différentes positions, avec deux doigts dépliés. Elle porte une robe rouge dont le bas est un voile où sont brodés des croissants de lune superposés, et d'où partent des fleurs jaunes, à la verticale. Le tout forme plusieurs attrape-rêves. Il est dit que Jiamin est la personnification de la lune, d'où les motifs. Ça m'a tout de suite fait penser à 100-year-old rabbit spirit, puisque le motif de la lune y est récurrent.

Autres détails de ce rêve :

XueCong est présente aussi. Elle a également un éventail noir et une robe rouge, mais en plus moderne/contemporaine.

À un autre moment, on voit Yixuan et Tianyang (assistantes, portent des robes rouges). Elles se croiser pour dévoiler Jiamin.

Vers la fin, on aperçoit Yuling s'en aller, de dos.

21 juin 2024 :

J'ai rêvé que Yuling tenait le même accessoire que Li Hui. Malheureusement, ce n'arrivera jamais, puisqu'elle a quitté le groupe 🙃 Ça m'a quand même donné quelques idées : • Yuling trouve cet objet par hasard et comprend que Li Hui n'est pas celle qu'elle prétend être. Peut-être même que Yuling a compris qu'il s'agit en réalité de Yixuan, car elle a reconnu cet objet. • L'histoire de réincarnation n'a jamais existé, du moins pas pour Yuling, puisqu'elle vit encore. Ça marchera mieux ainsi, tant que je n'aurai pas trouvé une "fin" pour Yuling 🤔

24 juin 2024 :

Il y a un rêve que j'ai fait la nuit dernière et auquel je n'arrête pas de penser. Ça ressemblait à la performance de Ning Ke et Jiamin sur Strong wish, mais du point de vue de Yuling. Comme j'ai très peu de détails en mémoire, c'est difficile à décrire. Mais j'aimerais tellement m'en servir pour 100-year-old rabbit spirit ! Je me souviens que Jiamin a deux tenues différentes : une similaire à celle de la performance d'origine, et une autre beaucoup plus raffinée. Il y a aussi le rêve de cette nuit, "La légende de Ning Ke" (oui, je donne des noms à mes rêves !) :

La servante courre au milieu de deux rangées de lances noires. Les lances s'évaporent en fumée noire et deviennent des soldats qui se lancent à sa poursuite.

La maîtresse de maison rejoint la servante qui lui glisse discrètement une bague dans sa main.

Alors, la maîtresse de maison s'arrête et brandit la bague à la lumière.

C'est en particulier cette scène qui a rendu célèbre la légende.

Une sorte de génie à la taille démesurée apparaît devant la maîtresse de maison. Elle salue la divinité en lui disant « Nous sommes honorés de vous voir. »

Et c'est ainsi que le nom de Ning Ke fut donné.

16 septembre 2024 :

J’ai rêvé que dans Strong wish, la tenue de Ning Ke était blanche avec des motifs de pivoines violet pâle.

27 septembre 2024 :

« Jiamin just fox. Ning Ke a choisi. » Ces mots sont apparus cette nuit, entre deux rêves. Leur signification est encore obscure.

J’ai deux hypothèses : soit Jiamin est le renard et Ning Ke doit décider si elle reste ou non avec elle ; soit Ning Ke doit choisir entre Jiamin et Yixuan (le renard).

Après, je ne suis même pas sûre de la ponctuation. Ça pourrait tout aussi bien être « Jiamin. Just fox. Ning Ke a choisi. » Un peu comme un télégramme.

En tout cas, c’est intéressant et intriguant à la fois.

J’ai aussi fait un rêve où il est question de renoncules :

Jiamin et Yuling se croisent. Chacune soulève les pans de sa robe pour saluer, puis poursuit son chemin.

Soudain, Jiamin se sent mal et est obligée de mettre un genou à terre. Alors qu'elle tousse, elle entend Yuling faire demi-tour.

Gardant la main sur sa bouche pour masquer son problème, Jiamin lève les yeux vers Yuling. Celle-ci écarte la main de Jiamin.

Gênée, Jiamin détourne le regard. Yuling devine tout haut que le problème de Jiamin vient des épines des renoncules. Elle sort alors un morceau de coton enveloppé dans un tissu pour soigner la blessure située au creux de la main de Jiamin.

Là encore, le mot est sorti de nulle part. mais ce qui est intéressant c’est qu’en réalité, les renoncules ressemblaient plus à des pivoines. Et où est-ce qu’on trouve une pivoine ? Dans le mini-drama « A flower in three lives » qui m’a inspiré le spin-off sur Xiaoai (l’esprit de la jacinthe)

De plus, dans mon rêve, les robes de Jiamin et Yuling sont de style traditionnel ancien.

A l’état sauvage, les renoncules ressemblent aux boutons d’or. La couleur jaune peut soit être associée à la jalousie, ou alors au dragon jaune, ou le centre de la rose des vents…

Dans 100-year-old rabbit spirit, c’est surtout la couleur de Yuling.

Aussi, j’ai l’impression que cette histoire aurait sa place dans « A travers les saisons » (voir le sommaire). Sauf que Yuling a pris la place de XiaoHui !

29 septembre 2024 :

Dans ce rêve, Jiamin voit Yuling se promener avec une fille sur un pont, le genre de pont arrondi qu’on trouve dans les jardins japonais. Les habits sont de style traditionnel.

En les observant de loin, Jiamin se revoit à cet endroit, marchant elle aussi en compagnie de Yuling.

Pourquoi est-ce que ce n’est plus le cas ? Je ne sais pas exactement. Peut-être que Jiamin n’est plus de ce monde, ou peut-être qu’elle a rompu avec Yuling. Toujours est-il qu’elle est jalouse vis-à-vis de l’autre fille.

Jiamin réussit à l’attirer dans un endroit sombre (du coup, Jiamin est peut-être belle et bien vivante…) et lui dit que si elle (l’autre fille) disparaissait, on croirait qu’elle est soit morte, soit enfermée quelque part car elle est devenue folle.

Et si ces hypothèses reflétaient en réalité la situation de Jiamin ? Ce serait logique qu’elle souhaite la même chose pour sa rivale.

1er octobre 2024 :

Dans le rêve de cette nuit, Jiamin était une magicienne. Mais elle était aussi magicienne dans le sens où elle avait des pouvoirs magiques qu’elle utilisait pour se défendre. Son nom de scène/surnom était Tuzi. Et détail qui a toute son importance : Jiamin était blonde, comme dans les Chroniques de Tuzi !

3 octobre 2024 :

Le nouveau rêve s’appelle Rashomon (rapport à la chanson qui est utilisée)

(De gauche à droite) Yuling, Ning Ke, Jiamin et Xiaoai sont debout devant un rideau (voile épais noir). Yuling et Ning Ke ont un micro sur pied pour deux ; idem pour Jiamin et Xiaoai.

Xiaoai est blonde et porte une robe rouge. Ses cheveux sont ramenés sur le côté gauche avec un chignon.

Jiamin a les cheveux noirs et ondulés. Sa robe est couleur sable, avec une veste transparente assortie. La robe est également décorée au niveau du col avec une broche ronde et blanche avec un centre noir en relief. Elle a également un col blanc typique des tenues de la dynastie Qing.

Jiamin se détourne pour aller derrière le rideau. Xiaoai est sortie par les coulisses. Entre alors Ruiqi, habillée d'une robe violet pâle, de style Qing.

À travers une fente dans le rideau, apparaissent deux papillons fixés au bout de tiges métalliques. L'un est jaune, l'autre est bleu azur. Ruiqi les observe d'abord avec joie, puis semble remarquer quelque chose d'étrange à leur sujet.

À l'autre bout de la scène, Yuling apparaît entre deux pans de rideau avec un pipa. Le manche de l'instrument est décoré d'une fleur blanche. Les cheveux de Yuling sont rassemblés en une tresse sur le côté droit.

Alors que Yuling tient son instrument à hauteur de regard, on voit la main de Jiamin (cachée derrière le rideau, à gauche de Yuling) faire baisser l'instrument.

Comme vous pouvez le voir, je suis tellement investie dans mes histoires que j'en rêve la nuit !

[vinstinx]

Je viens d’avoir une illumination….

Si le S il a pensé ça comme je viens de le penser, c’est vraiment le plus grand génie de l’humanité:

Il sport le prequel pour faire continuer la trilogie (qui est maintenant une saga) 4 ans de plus (donc le tome III reste techniquement le dernier tome, une trilogie mm avec le prequel). Maintenant, on en 2024…. Il y a 4 ans entre chaque JVLIVS (a peu près la faites pas chier ) Dans 4 ans, on est en 2028, soit l’année des 10 ANS de JVLIVS. J’suis sur il nous prépare du lourd. C’est sur. Et en plus geais il y a tjrs un album entre chaque JVLIVS, et ben pour en rajouter, l’album suivant c’est à dire probablement en 2025: 2025 l’année des 10 ans de A7…

Peut être que j’me suis un peu emporter dans le futur. on va commencer par savourer le Prequel qui sort la, mais tout ça pour dire que SCH c’est un grand fou malade.

[super-powerful-queen-reyna]

Je connais pas trop Kaamelott et good Omens ('fin les grandes lignes et les persos principaux) mais sinon je connais tooout le reste!

En vrai de vrai j'ai remarqué que les auteurs de fic vdf sur AO3 ça reste à peu près les mêmes et que y en a plusieurs sur Tumblr mais on est pas ultra des masses non plus.

Sinon je suis en train d'écrire une fic prequel du reboot total de ma première fic (à côté Judith et Matteo ils ont pas changé des masses après la destruction de la brigade temporelle) je vais en parler un peu dans ce reblog mais c'est un moyen un peu tarabiscoté de dire "coucooou c'est moi qui écrit les crossovers qui sortent du trou du cul du monde" (le stranger things x MHA x vdf c'est moi ça, Gather Heroes je pense les gens s'imaginent c'est trop gros pour y toucher, mais c'est moi aussi. Je l'avais publié à l'origine sur Wattpad mais quand j'ai déménagé sur AO3 je l'ai emporté avec moi)

Du coup pour l'instant c'est un meeting des inventeurs fictionnels que je connais:

Alador Blight (The Owl House)

Fiddleford McGucket (Gravity Falls)

Stanford Pines (Gravity Falls)

Leo Valdez (Riordanverse)

Wylan Van Eck (Grishaverse)

Dex Dizznee (Keeper of the Lost Cities)

Entrapta (She-ra and the Princesses of Power)

Mei Hatsume (My Hero Academia)

Hearthstone (Magnus Chase)

Mourmur Duncan (Tara Duncan)

Henry Castafolte (le seul, l'unique)

Micah jspquoi (le gosse dans Heroes)

Et bam la meilleure la plus forte : Polyussuica (Fairy Tail)

En gros pour l'instant je prends grave du temps parce que je relis GDCP (KOTLC), 'fin l'univers de Dex, et pis après je relirai six of Crows et je lirai crooked kingdom pour être sûre que je me goure pas sur le nom de famille de Wylan (apparemment il préfère être appelé Hartbeck ou qqch comme ça)

À la base y avait juste Hearth pour aider Mourmur et là, tt le monde s'est pointé. Du coup j'ai décidé de rebooter Gather Heroes en Onion World (parce que le monde est constitué de couches heing). Quand je dis tout le monde, à la base y en manquait pis je me suis dit oe Entrapta et mei vont pitetre aimer faire partie du groupe et après je me suis rappelée de Henry et Micah (rapport au fait que je regarde Gilmore girls en ce moment--> y a un acteur de Heroes dedans et Micah c'est un perso de Heroes et je me suis oh le pauvre comem. Donc go

En gros le pitch c'est que Mourmur (le plus grand génie du monde et j'exagère mm pas) il a une équipe qui bosse sur des inventions, composée de plein plein de scientifiques et tout, et sa nièce lui avait prêté son jardinier et son cuisinier (j'headcanon qu'ils sont mariés parce que ça me parait logique et je fais ce que je veux) comme assistants mais ils ont démissionné et repris leurs anciens postes parce qu'ils en avaient ras-le -bol des explosions.

Leurs noms c'est Tachil et Mangus. Du coup j'ai inventé le nom de famille Cheas parce que vu les noms dans l'univers Tara Duncan ça marche et pis ça fait Magnus chase en bidouillé. Du coup Mangus contacte le pôle emploi des univers fantasy (c'est pas le nom officiel encore) pour trouver des gens sourds qui seraient prêts à forcer Mourmur à communiquer en langue des signes pour quand les explosions bousillent ses oreilles (ça arrive souvent) et Hearth accepte. Il met aussi un flyer pour les gens qui voudraient se faire engager dans le labo.

Pour les autres je vais inventer des trucs pour les faire venir, genre "ah machin ton mentor connaissait Mourmur" ou ce dernier s'est dit "eh viens t'as inventé des trucs super cool ramène tes fesses" (Henry).

Donc voilà ils font connaissance et tout et pis ils vont chacun dans les labos des uns des autres pour les protéger ou faire des expériences chimiques ou chepaquoi . Ils brisent deux trois sorts millénaires qui font chier et tout. D'autant plus qu'ils ont le budget (Henry est content) vu que les Etats autremondiens sont en mode "je veux trop la mainmise dessus donc tiens l'argent"

J'ai pas encore élaboré sur keski allait se passer mais j'avais besoin de mettre ça sur "papier" et tu m'as donné l'occasion, mercims

Et pourquoi c'est un prequel?

Juste je veux que l'histoire principale rassemble les personnages principales femmes de tous ces univers et plus parce que y a pas assez d'histoires avec les persos féminins. Cette histoire dont je viens de parler, elle existe juste parce que j'ai pitié de l'exclusion de Dex et de la non culture des elfes des paillettes

Hellooo je suis à la recherche de mutus mais je n'ose pas trop aller vers les gens du coup n'hésitez pas à interagir/follow si vous aimez :

- Starmania (ou toute la clique de 79)

- Kaamelott (pitié)

- Les musicals

- Good omens

- Le visiteur du futur (Frenchnerd)

- Tout trucs bien franco-français style Astérix (j'ai pas d'autres exemples mais Astérix voilà quoi)

(je poste un peu plus sur ig)

[yesimwriting]

First Impressions

First ever final girl fic universe seperate fic!! all that means is that even though this is canon in the final girl fic world, it is a separate fic that stands on its own!! you don't need to read any part of final girl first!!

also if you’d like to request a fic that’s set in the final girl world, feel free too, just know that as of now there won’t be anything directly couple-y between Y/n and the boys, just specify in the request!

this is not part 6 of final girl, it's a separate little sort of prequel??

Summary: How Billy and Stu's feelings for Y/n first developed

----

Billy doesn't know when the official switch first flipped. He isn't sure when you went from being a pretty face with a sense of humor that he found a little more objectively funny than most to someone that started taking over his thoughts.

Maybe it did start that first day, when Stu kept making jokes that forced him to keep bringing up the 'hot new girl that Tatum wouldn't shut up about.’ After about the third comment about you, Billy realized that it wasn't really a joke. It was a testing of waters, Stu's not-so-subtle attempt to gauge Billy's opinion of you.

It wasn't like Stu wanted permission to like you, the two of them understood how they felt about others, about girls. But you were different, a thought that made something unfamiliar flare up in them. Feelings too possessive to be categorized as simply want. And too protective to be considered just ownership.

Maybe it did start the day he met you. The first words he ever heard you say didn't quite fit you, but they intrigued him enough to look at you twice.

----

Today is dragging on. It's not even lunch yet and Billy's trying to calculate if he can get away with skipping the rest of his classes. Maybe he'd grab Stu at the start of their shared 5th period and just go. They could get high or drive around for awhile or just cut early to watch a movie. Billy doesn't really know what he wants, he just knows that he doesn't want to be here. Looking through his locker and waiting for Sid.

Being around her is all hot and cold. Some days playing the good boyfriend is barely painful, making it easy to even actually listen to some of her stories. But on days like today, he has to be aware of all of his thoughts and impulses in order to avoid blowing up their plan. The one year mark is coming up soon.

"You know that much planning can make you sound like a psychopath." That's Sid. Billy can't see her yet, but she's still rounding the corner and her voice sounds light. The irony of her saying something like that only steps away from Billy would almost be amusing on a normal day.

"Psychopaths get shit done." A voice that's completely unfamiliar. Normally, he'd brush it off. He doesn't bother keeping up with many people outside of their inner friend group. He could point out a few faces from over the years, but no one else ever really stands out to him.

Just as Sid and the stranger round the corner, the unknown voice speaks again. "Uh--that's not the kind of joke you can make in front of someone you just met. Swear I'm not planning a mass murder, I'm just extra about planning my class schedule."

Billy turns away from his open locker, deciding that since he's this bored and the comment was somewhat amusing before the stranger started backtracking, he's intrigued enough to really look at them. Plus, Sidney seems to like them, so it's probably a thing he should be putting effort into anyways.

You're not what he was expecting. A true new girl. The true new girl. The girl most people glanced at a little too long this morning because when does anyone ever move to Woodsboro? And when does anyone start school here about a month into the school year?

You're holding a stack of heavy textbooks that seem like over kill and blinking up at him with eyes he doesn't think he'll immediately forget about. It's different than noticing someone he finds attractive. This is more intrusive.

Billy doesn't like that he doesn't instinctually dismiss you as high school background static.

His eyes eventually snag on what you're wearing. A sweater that doesn't seem to fit you that he recognizes instantly. He nearly tore it off Stu this morning before school when they both had half a mind to skip.

Billy's jaw clenches and he isn't sure if the sweater has him feeling territorial over Stu or if it has him looking at you a little differently. Maybe the sweater was a little situation Stu created for Billy to notice. A tiny, well orchestrated way to rile Billy up to get back at him for this morning. Or maybe a way to tag you, to tell Billy that he should look at you twice. It doesn't matter, he now knows for a fact that you'll be coming up later, the second Stu and him get a second alone.

"I believe you," Sidney breathes easily, a half laugh in her voice as she breezes past him, likely walking you towards their group's usual lunch spot. He doesn't like that a part of him hopes that his assumption is right.

----

Mr. James has been ranting about who knows what for the last fifteen minutes, and Stu hasn’t heard a word of it. He hasn’t even had a fully clear thought since you stumbled in three minutes late, mumbling an apology as you beelined for the first available seat you could find. It happened to be right next to him. So close Stu can see the doodles in your notebook. They’re cute, scribbled stars and swirls, but disappointingly un-telling. He didn’t expect to see you so soon after Tatum befriended you in the parking lot, and he didn’t think you’d look like this.

“I like your shirt better like this.” You look up at him like a deer caught in front of a moving car. “The neon green brings out your eyes.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Oh, thanks, that was the goal.” You glance down at your shirt, crossing your arms in front of your chest self consciously. “This is a result of my annoying habit of not looking both ways before crossing the hall. Some guy ran into me and spilled his energy drink all over me, and he didn’t even stop to say sorry.”

“Wow,” Stu humors you because there’s just something about the irritated pout of your lips, “Rude.”

“I know!” You whisper-yell before cringing slightly at your volume. 

“Exciting first day so far.”

Shifting in your seat again, you blink once, pen tapping against your notebook. “No kidding.”

“If I give you my sweater, does that count as me bailing you out twice today?” 

Your lips part as you glare at him in a way that’s almost shy. Before you can tell him that pointing out a classroom doesn’t count as bailing you out, the two of you are interrupted. 

“Mr. Macher, since you’re so interested in talking today, why don’t you tell us how many delegates attended the Constitutional Convention in 1787?” 

Stu remains unfazed, turning away from you and towards the teacher. You begin writing something else down, and then, in a move so subtle and quick Stu almost thinks he imagined it, you tap the side of your foot against his. His eyes flit down towards the notebook that you’ve pushed to the edge of your desk.

“55,” Stu says confidently, reading the circled number off of your notebook.

Frowning, Mr. James continues, “That’s correct.” Pacing towards the bored, he asks another question, “And which state wasn’t represented?”

You’re quick to write out the next answer in order for Stu to read it out loud, “Rhode Island.”

Getting frustrated, Mr. James begins to press, “Where did they meet?”

“Philadelphia.”

At that, Mr. James lets out a sigh that’s more frustrated than it should be. Deciding that he can’t push this interrogation any further, Mr. James lets it go and moves on. 

Stu smiles despite himself, finding it a little...cute that you outed yourself as a bit of a nerd. It’s something about who you are that you’ve finally revealed. He glances back at your notebook as you inch it even closer to him. He reads over the last thing you wrote: who’s bailing who out now?

You’re smug about it, too. It’s adorable, like being near a puppy. A puppy that Stu isn’t sure if he’d keep around or accidentally squeeze just a little too hard. He just met you, but something about your demeanor is just so innocent and you seem so soft. It’s distracting and oddly riling and he hasn’t quite made up his mind if he’s going to hold it against you or not. 

God, if Tatum decides to really befriend you, this could be interesting. And if Billy were to meet you? Stu’s convinced that he’ll pick up on the fact that you’re something else just as fast. That realization leads to a train of thought that has him struggling to focus on acting normal. 

----

Stu knows two things. The first is that something is definitely on Billy’s mind, and the second is that Billy can tell that Stu’s focus is elsewhere. Stu also knows that right now is a terrible time to get caught up in some girl just because he can’t stop thinking about your eyes and the cute little turn of your lips that was almost a smile.

And seeing you in his sweater for the rest of the day just did something to him. 

Okay, technically that’s more than two things. 

“You wanna order takeout?” The question comes out perfectly casual in a way that Stu knows Billy will interpret as suspicious. “We can save the movie you rented for when the food gets here.”

Billy nods once, absentmindedly, “Sure.” His fingers press into the cushion of the couch, but that doesn’t do anything to relieve his tension. Billy moves his hand, squeezing the back of his turned over arm and letting his nails dig into the soft skin of his inner wrist. The pinching pain is meant to snap him out of it. “What do you think of the girl Tatum was all over today?”

The question nearly sends Stu spiraling. It’s rare for Stu to be unsure on what kind of reaction someone’s looking for, but he’s out of practice with Billy. He can’t remember the last time he cared about monitoring his reactions in front of Billy. “What about her?”

“Do you think Tatum will keep her around enough for her to be a factor?”

Oh. It’s about the plan. Of course it is. Stu thinks of your face, your eyes, the almost smile. It makes his blood rush in a specific way, and he’s not sure if he’d rather see you tremble out of fear or arousal. Maybe there’d be time for both.

“Don’t know. Tatum thought she was nice, didn’t shut up about her, but she’s a little book-y, y’know?” Stu shifts slightly, just enough to seem like he’s slumping further into the couch. “She’s probably too naive to be a factor either way.”

Billy half shrugs. “Not sure, she’s reading Carrie.” 

Stu almost points out that Billy isn’t usually the type to note details like that about people he doesn’t know or care about. “Think she likes scary movies?”

“There’s an easy way to find out,” Billy mumbles, only somewhat serious. He then drops his gaze towards his lap, nails digging just a little harder into his skin than before. “She doesn’t seem like the victim type. You know what she reminded me of with her too-nice-for-her-own-good, girl next door thing?”

Already piecing together what Billy’s getting at, Stu decides to play along. “What?”

At that, Billy throws him a somewhat scolding look. It’s a gentle chiding for trying to get away with bullshitting him. “A final girl.” With a slight sigh, Billy decides that he’s ready to bring up his real point, “You definitely thought so.”

The nail in the coffin hits Stu harder than he thought it would. Billy’s called him out on a lot over the years, but Stu’s never come this close to feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t get this difference, he doesn’t get why he didn’t just say something at the beginning. The two of them talk about girls they find hot all the time. Why are you the exception that makes him feel kind of awkward?

“What?”

Billy rolls his eyes before pointedly glaring at Stu in a way that can only be described as bitchy. “You think I can’t tell when you like a girl?”

The word like settles uncomfortably in Stu’s chest. “Jealous?” It’s a sad attempt at deflecting. “Like you didn’t think she was cute with the way you jumped in to save her just as I was getting her a little worked up.”

“You were making fun of someone and trying to make her uncomfortable.” 

“Since when does that matter?”

Billy pauses, thinking through his potential responses. “I didn’t give her my sweater.” It’s a flat comment, barely more than an observation. “I wasn’t the one looking at her like I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pin her against the wall or hold her there with a knife.” Stu’s eyes darken slightly as his posture stiffens and Billy struggles to not look smug openly. “Surprised you didn’t come in here trying to get me to jerk you off to the thought of her all bloody and begging you to let her live. I bet you’ve been thinking about that since you saw he in the parking lot this morning.”

Stu finds it in himself to keep it together enough to say, “You’re there too. She’s crying and looks over at you with those wide eyes like she needs you.” 

The comment serves as a ceasefire of sorts. A reminder that neither of them has a true upper hand when it comes to this kind of thing.

----

Maybe the change came the first time Billy was completely alone with you. The hall was empty, school had ended long enough for most club meetings to have started. Most of the people that linger after school have moved to the parking lot or behind the bleachers. 

Billy recognizes the back of your head instantly. You’re starting to become more and more noticeable. It’s a new development, something he still isn’t sure how he feels about. It’s good to be aware, but it’s more than that. A small part of him seems to jump whenever he realizes you’re in the same room. It’s ridiculous. If Stu knew about the pinch of warmth that rises in him whenever he realizes that you’re around, he’d never hear the end of it.

He almost walks away, leaving you there as you groan in frustration at your locker. “You okay?” 

You look up, eyes rounder than usual. You’re always a little fidgety, but today, you’re jumpier than ever. Stu threw his arm around your shoulders during lunch after making a joke that made you both seem like an old, married couple. It’s not rare for Stu to find an excuse to touch you, and you react to it a lot more casually than you used to. But today, you almost flinched. Something’s going on, maybe it has something to do with your mom’s boyfriend. 

You called Sid up the other night late, asking her if you could sleep over because your mom was out and you didn’t want to be alone with him. Maybe your mom isn’t back yet and the thought of going back to that environment has you on edge. Billy gets that feeling. 

“I think this locker has a personal vendetta against me.” 

He nods, trying not to focus on anything particular about you. Still, though, there’s something a little endearing about your dramatics. “A vendetta? Intense.” 

You pull on the lock again, trying to balance a bunch of binders and books in one arm. “Extremely.” 

With the way you’re struggling, it’s only a matter of time before everything collapses. “Here.” Billy pushes the lock in, holding it in position for a second before pulling it down. “It wasn’t still locked, just jammed. The lockers here do that.” 

You let out a relieved sigh. “You’re my hero.” It’s casual praise, a comment you’ll likely never think about again, but it leaves that strange warmth flaring through him. 

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got it.” The shake of your head is polite, but the fact that you’re clearly struggling to keep your hold on everything is apparent. You don’t always accept help easily. Suppressing an eye roll, Billy takes the top two books from your stack. You give him a look before admitting defeat. “Thank you.” 

You finish putting away the items in your arms before taking the textbooks back from Billy and making them fit into what’s left of the space. You then move to look through your backpack, taking out different colored sets of sticky notes and highlighters. It’s not really noteworthy until you start taking different sticky notes and highlighters out of your locker and putting them into your backpack. 

“Didn’t you just put those--” 

“Those were the note color combos for history, science, and english. These are the note color combos for my journalism class and math, plus my additional sticky notes for english reading that’s a book and not a textbook. I also like to use different highlighters for different levels of--” Billy’s watching you carefully as you cut yourself off. “I’m way more normal than this makes me look, I swear.” 

It’s that half thought out defense that has Billy practically frozen in place. There’s just something so you about the way you cut yourself off, and Billy’s practically lost in it. You’re an open book when it comes to feelings, but he always finds himself trying to guess what you’re going to say before you actually say it.

Billy fights against a smile. “I don’t believe it.” Your mouth opens in a mock gasp. “Do you have a ride home?”

You zip your backpack shut. “I was gonna walk.” 

He’s yet to see you drive and he’s starting to think you don’t have a car. It’s an unseasonably chilly day and you’re wearing something short with no jacket. Billy also doesn’t love the idea of you walking alone while looking like that. Too pretty, too noticeable, and there are some fucked up people out there.

In an impulsive move, Billy says, “I can take you.” The offer surprises you, you clearly weren’t expecting that from him. Billy can’t blame you for your confusion. It’s not that he’s cold towards you, he just hasn’t let himself get too close to you.

You’re a breath of fresh air to not just him. With the way everyone’s always all over you, Billy has let himself step to the sidelines a little. At least, that’s what he tells himself, but if he’s being completely honest, his thoughts around you are flighty and unsure. Sometimes if he thinks about it too hard it makes him feel like he’s a kid desperate for his mom to beam at him to make everything go away.

It’s twisting and weird and he’s not sure if it makes him want you closer to him or if it makes him want to just give in and force a knife through you just so that voice in the back of his head will stop. You can’t exactly reject him if he buries a knife into you first. But he’s been trying a little more recently. 

It’s only been a short time and you’ve already gotten so comfortable with Stu and his brazenness. It’s starting to make Billy a little more relaxed. Enough to crack a smile every once in awhile and partner with you for a project in English class.

“Oh,” you hum after a second, “Thank you.” You take your time zipping your backpack up to avoid needing to look at him. “But you don’t have to do that. I’d hate to put you out.” 

Billy knows that it’s likely you trying not to be an inconvenience. You never do accept help the first time it’s offered. You don’t know what you need. Despite Billy’s awareness, the slight rejection stings. That warmth you make him feel twists in his stomach in a way that burns. 

“It wouldn’t be putting me out.” He pauses, trying to think through what he can say to get you to agree without making his offer sound too significant. “It’s cold, I can’t let you freeze.” 

You shut your locker, letting yourself consider his offer. It was the right thing to remind you of. Even though it’s not exactly freezing here, it’s hotter in Texas and you’re not used to September feeling all that different than July. “One condition?” 

“I’m doing you a favor.” 

Playfully, you roll your eyes dramatically. Billy smiles at the gesture despite himself. “Don’t go around telling people I’m like some kind of weird sticky note freak?” 

“Weird sticky note freak?” Billy repeats the words like he’s seriously weighing the pros and cons of your request. “Nope. Sorry. Have to tell everyone.” 

The tension of uncertainty behind your stance disappears and the way you’re looking at him changes entirely. His joke surprised you in a good way. It’s a flash of a side of an easier going side of him. “Everyone, huh?” You tilt your head slightly as you consider what to say. “Wish I knew something embarrassing about you to...ensure your silence.” 

He almost laughs. “Ensure my silence? You’d blackmail me?” 

Shrugging comfortably, you reply, “I’d do what needs to be done.”

Billy takes a step forward, angling himself so that there’s a subtle implication that you’re trapped between him and your locker. You seem to pick up on it subconsciously, because the pure humor leaves your eyes. “Didn’t think you could be so mean.” 

You blink, a tiny bit of shyness making itself apparent. Your proximity to each other is just as significant to you as it is to him. Billy can tell by the way you struggle to hold his gaze. The fact that the nerves are mutual makes Billy feel a little easier, a little warm in a good way. 

“I’m multifaceted.” It’s practically a squeak and it sends a thrill straight through Billy.

He’s never been this close to you and yet it still feels so far. The urge to do something with his hands, to touch you just to know what the warmth of your skin would feel like beneath his fingertips, hits him hard and fast. Billy straightens in an attempt to break the spell.

It’s not enough, so he starts walking forward. “Come on before I see you do something really embarrassing like color code tabs in your binder.” 

You turn quickly, trying to match his long, even strides. “That’s actually--” Silencing yourself with a slight huff, you glare at him. “And...that was a joke. You’re making fun of me.” 

Instead of answering the question, Billy decides to push just a little more. “You know this isn’t exactly a sticky note level secret, but sometimes I color coordinate my pens based on each class I’m in. The ink matches my folders.” 

“Haha,” you breathe sarcastically, heat rising to your face. “You have a really underrated sense of humor.”

----

Now that you’re here, so casually taking up space somewhere that’s just his, Billy doesn’t want you to go. Your uncertainty melted away after the first two minutes and you’ve been casually chatting away ever since.

You tried making fun of his music, but ultimately had to admit your disappointment that Billy’s taste isn’t worse. He apologized and promised that next time he drove you somewhere, he’d make sure to have nothing but the cheesiest pop top 20 available, that way you could bully him to your heart’s content. He also made sure to tell you that if you really want to make fun of someone for their choice of music, you should ask Stu to show you his CD collection. 

After saying that, Billy watched your reaction carefully through the rearview mirror. You seemed to like the promise of future car rides.

You’re tapping your fingers against your knee casually, eyes focused on the window. The two of you are getting close to your place now, and something about your energy is beginning to shift downwards. You don’t want to go home.

Screw it, you don’t want to be home and after Stu’s stuffy energy today, Billy realizes that both of you could use a bit of a pick me up. 

"Today’s Thursday, right?” 

Turning your attention back towards him, your hand stills on your lap. “Yeah, why?” 

“I forgot I told Stu I’d be at his place by 3:30 today. We were supposed to go get something to eat.” It’s a partial lie. It was an assumed thing that Billy would make his way over to Stu’s at some point, especially since it’s been a little while since they both had a free day. Between school and their girlfriends, it just hasn’t worked out. But they never indicated a time and Billy isn’t actually late. “We’re about to pass Stu’s house.” 

Billy pauses, pretending that this idea just came to him. “Want to come with us? I can drive you home after and that way Stu won’t get into his whole thing when I’m late.” 

You’re intrigued by the offer, he can tell by the way you’re cautiously studying him from the corner of your vision. “I don’t need to crash your thing.” 

“You’re not crashing.” You don’t look convinced. “You’re our friend.”

At that, your demeanor seems to soften. The word friend leaves you beaming and that feeling flickers in Billy’s chest again. 

“You’re sure Stu won’t mind?” You’re watching him freely now, eyes cautious. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“As long as you don’t bring out the sticky notes and try to color coordinate anything.” 

Fighting down a laugh, you roll your eyes. “Sounds tough, but I think I can manage.” 

----

Stu’s laying against his couch, Texas Chainsaw Massacre playing on the living room television. He’s only half paying attention, strangely apathetic. 

The call had come this morning, right before he left for school. His parents were rescheduling their return, claiming that business was just too good for them to fly home already. Apparently someone offered his dad an in on some deal, and now they’re in negotiations for that. Stu barely believed them, considering that the business trip was in Vegas, and his mom has a pension for shopping in large cities. 

He didn’t call them out for it. He never does. Lie or truth, it doesn’t make a difference why they’re not coming back. The point is they’re just not. 

When Stu was younger, he used to complain a little, but that was quickly nipped in the bud by his father reminding him that he’s a man. He shouldn’t really need anything from his parents except assurance that his needs would be taken care of, and that’s definitely a problem they’ve never had. A large and safe roof over his head and enough pocket money to keep himself fed and entertained. What else could a teenage boy want? 

Stu was half expecting some kind of call. It had been a little over a week with no communication and they always announce their return home a few days in advance. They never tell Stu about their delays until the day before they’re supposed to come back. 

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this or why it’s getting to him a little more today than usual. Maybe it has to do with the fact that his parents are coming close to beating their record for longest time traveling without so much as a weekend pit stop at home to change out their luggage. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s barely gotten any time with Billy this week. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s phased at all is stupid.

A knocking at his door snaps him out of his train of thoughts. Weird. A spike of hope strikes him with no warning. It could be Billy, but Billy never knocks. He walks in and doesn’t even bother to greet Stu verbally before sitting down next to him. It could be Tay, but he can’t remember making any plans with her or the last time she spontaneously popped by his place without at least calling first. 

Stu opens the front door casually, because this is Woodsboro, and an unexpected knock is no reason for concern. His eyes immediately land on Billy, who’s standing there like there’s nothing weird about him knocking. 

“You kn--” He cuts himself off after noticing that Billy’s not alone. Excitement pulses through him at the realization that it’s you. Stu has no idea how Billy pulled this off, but it’s a good surprise. A good enough surprise to get him to shake off the weird way he’s feeling. “Look who wandered onto my doorstep.” 

Ignoring the consuming way he’s looking at you, you greet him normally. “Hi to you too.” 

“Picked her up,” Billy jumps in, catching Stu up on his innocent enough lie as casually as possible, “She’s a stray, so she’s coming with us to grab something to eat.” 

That paired with the subtle look Billy sends him is enough for Stu to piece together enough of the story to go along with it. “You’re late, but since you brought me a gift, I’ll let it go.” 

You practically laugh at that. “Dramatic.” 

Stu turns towards you, grinning at the excuse to grab you. He tugs on your arm, ignoring your protests as he pushes you against the doorframe. The sudden shift in mood isn’t something you’re expecting, but Stu can’t help it. Especially when he knows that he has your full attention. He can take seeming pushy if it means he’s the only thing you’re focusing on. 

“Stu.” It’s too surprised and amused to be scolding.

His smile widens at the way you’re looking at him. “Take it back.” 

You bite back a grin, watching him carefully. There’s an edge to his usual brand of chaos, but it’s not unnerving. If anything, a part of you feels the need to prove him wrong. “No.” 

It’s not so much the blatant defiance as it is that smug look behind your eyes that sets Stu off. His hold on you tightens, and the way he tilts his head leaves a feeling you don’t understand pulsing through you. It leaves your face warm. 

“No?” You blink at the question, chin sticking out just slightly in an attempt to hold your ground. “Brat.” 

Still not giving him the satisfaction of your panic, you keep your voice steady as you react, “Dra-ma-tic.” 

Billy straightens, watching the exchange cautiously. He understands that look behind Stu’s eyes better than Stu does. You’re teetering on the edge of either Stu forgetting that this is a delicate situation and crossing a line or something even more dangerous. But this is the most like himself Stu’s been all day and you’re smiling. It’s a moment that’s so domestic Billy’s not sure how he hadn’t managed to get you here sooner. 

Releasing one of your arms, Stu places a hand on your side. Billy studies the contact carefully before Stu starts to move. His fingers move quickly, up and down your side as you laugh and squirm. It’s cute and easy going, but considering Stu’s mood today, Billy isn’t sure how long it’ll stay that way. 

“What were you saying?” 

“That--” You cut yourself off with a loud laugh that’s almost a gasp as Stu’s hand brushes against your side. “That you’re the--the most even temper-tempered, understa--understated person I’ve ever met.”

Stu pauses, hands squeezing your hips once before releasing you, but he makes no move to put any distance between you. “I’d love to believe you, babe, but you don’t really seem sorry.” 

That does frazzle you enough to get your eyes to widen. You laugh or maybe even yelp as Stu’s hands move to grab you again. You turn quickly, nearly stumbling as you try to dodge him. 

Stu could probably grab you and force you back into place easily, but he lets you have your small victory. It’s more fun with a little bit of a chase, anyways.

Billy places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you steady as you fight against a nervous giggle. “Help.” 

He’s never had such a good excuse to pull you towards him. Maybe Billy should have been the voice of reason. After all, this is your first time all doing something after school and scaring you off really is a possibility. But he can’t help himself. In one smooth movement, Billy turns you and presses your back into his chest. “You know in the movies nothing gets you killed faster than begging for help.”

You’re barely given a second to register his words because Stu’s on you in a second, tickling you before you can read too much into the lowness of Billy’s voice. He rests his chin against your back, briefly hiding his face into your neck as you squirm.

Billy looks up, meeting Stu’s gaze as you fondly tell them that they’re, “Literally the worst,” in a voice that’s so sweet they’re surprised they hold it together.

It’s in that moment, that silent exchange, that they both come to a mutual decision. You’re theirs now, and even though you don’t know it yet, nothing’s going to change that. 

[defaulttwig]

Allegiance to a Stranger

Prince Hal x fem!reader (18+)

Summary: Looking for work in a dingy pub/inn, you catch the eye of a rather handsome stranger. He offers you money, in return you simply need to talk to him. Easier than your other services, right? Plus, you got free drinks. Absolutely nothing could escalate from there.

Warnings: smut

WC: 4.9k

A/N: oldie uploaded from AO3 and a prequel to Long Live That C*ck but can be standalone

The moment you entered the inn's pub, you booked it to a corner of the room, finding a table along the wall. Petra would kill you if she found you came back here. The patrons here served danger on the second hour of drinking, but the coin balanced out the bad. Well, you thought that. Petra had you swear you'd avoid this place like the plague. Fuck the coin, but you needed the coin fuck to make a living.

What better way than to barter yourself for the drunkards that frequented the place?

Seated at a table by the wall, you could better scout out potential buyers from there. Every able body set before you like they were the merchandise and not you. You were on the lookout for those who seemed to have the fattest pockets.

This lot proved tougher to pick out than the last time you were here. The pub lacked breathing room, packed full of men and women drinking away their sorrows. None looked willing for a fuck and those that did either already had a gal on their lap or looked piss poor. You huffed and did another once over for the umpteenth time around the room.

Sitting around on your ass and wasting precious hours that could be used to make money pissed you off. If there was just anyone that-oh? Oh. You did a double-take. Not too far from you, a lanky gentleman sat hunched over a table, nursing a tankard. That didn't necessarily catch your eye but the fact he made not-so-subtle glances your way.

A brief assessment from your spot told you he must have good coin on him. Or, at least enough for your services rather than be wasted on the piss poor ale here. And judging by the peeks behind his dark locks, you were sure he wouldn't mind a companion tonight.

You gathered yourself and made your way over. He didn't seem perturbed as you sat at his table. You made sure to puff your chest a bit, accentuate your selling point, and offered him a smile.

"Couldn't help but notice you're all alone," you said.

He lifted his gaze at you, but his face had been partly hidden by hunched shoulders and his disheveled hair. You leaned forward and tapped your finger on the table.

"Would you like someone to share a drink with?"

"I'm fine."

You blinked, momentarily lost. His voice, as much as he sounded bored, excited you. His tone held such a cadence and manner of power, you couldn't help but be drawn in by the way he spoke. Surely, you wouldn't have expected someone as lanky and seemingly lone-wolfish as himself to carry such an intoxicating sound.

You smiled to yourself, certain you wanted his coin. "Didn't seem that way when you kept looking at me over there. Or, are you looking for other services? Services I may be able to provide."

He fully turned to give you his full attention. Every fiber of your being had not been prepared to be faced with an angel, not here. His deep eyes bore into your own, carrying so much emotion that you couldn't name. Even in the poor lighting here, you could make out his sharp features, sure he had to have been a god of some sort. Count your lucky stars, you really wanted his coin.

"If I wanted your services, I'd have asked."

You didn't let that deter you. "All right." Folding your arms under your chest, you raised it a bit shamelessly. A man this beautiful had to have some coin in his belt, a hefty amount. "I'll go bother another patron. Someone will enjoy my company."

You noticed him glance at your chest and knew you already won this quiet battle. Baiting him, you stood from your seat to make a point. He had not allowed you to move two steps from him before his hand grasped your wrist.

You looked down at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. As if you didn't know what you were doing.

You fought down a growing smile, instead pouting slightly. "Problem?"

"Fine." He sighed. The way he made it sound, you'd think you pestered him over and over and not simply made an offer that he ultimately could have said no to. "Drink with me. It's dreadfully dull here."

You reclaimed your seat, painting the puffed chest look. "Dull? I'm afraid we're not in the same pub if you don't see the man suckling a woman's tit on the other side of the room."

You both looked over at the same time and saw exactly what you described. Another woman trying to earn coin the same as you, though she seemed farther ahead of you in securing that coin. You had yet to know if he'd buy your services.

He looked back at you as your smile grew. "Or, are you not used to this sort of crowd?"

"I'd wager this isn't your ideal place either."

You blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your posture is awfully rigid for someone who acts like she knows what she's doing." He gestured his tankard in your direction. "And I've seen real whores. You're more of a whelp, someone who doesn't belong here."

You hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. Finding your train of thought, you forced a light laugh. "Perhaps, your vision is fuzzy. This isn't my first time."

"No, I don't believe so. But I do believe I could count on one hand how many times you've done this."

"Wrong." He was right, you just didn't want to agree and have him turn his money elsewhere. "If you believe that, why not find a woman who suits your interests?"

"Because I'm not looking for a fuck. I'm looking for a drink." He tried to take a drink but realized his tankard was empty. Waving down a barmaid, he brought his attention back to you. "And I'm certain you'd appreciate the night off, wouldn't you?"

Your smile had slipped off by now. Looking him in the eye, this not-so-angel of a man, you fought the urge to frown. "I still need to make a living. If you truly won't provide it, I'll look elsewhere."

"Consider this your service," he said as he ordered drinks for both of you to the barmaid before she hurried off to fetch some. "Drink with me, hold a conversation if you can, and I'll pay for both the drinks and your time."

You certainly frowned now, unsure of this trickery. "I don't believe you."

The two drinks had been set between you. This handsome stranger kept his eyes on you as his hand disappeared under the table. Your eyes widened the moment he set his hand down on the table before you, pulling back to reveal three gold coins.

"You have my word." He took hold of his tankard, raising it with a nod. "Drink. We have all night to talk."

You took hold of your own tankard, eyeing it cautiously before putting it to your mouth. He offered a half-smile, taking a drink of his own. If that was how you would earn your coin, you wouldn't mind. Free drink and free coin, that's the life anybody could ask for.

For three hours, the two of you drank and talked. Each drink served, he'd hand you more coins. You wanted to keep the drinks coming at that point, but held back. You wanted to remember this time with the stranger beside you.

The first hour consisted of him asking you questions. Nothing deep. Questions of 'have you traveled far out before,' 'pet peeves,' 'do you think you can hold as many drinks as you are?' Questions like that. That last question made you slow down your drinking, a reminder that you had your limits as any other person, but it also slowed down the coin.

By the second hour, you had gotten his name. Hal. It rolled off the tongue easily. And you were certain that even if you did get too drunk to remember tonight, you'd remember his name. Not that you thought you could forget this man.

In the third hour, you had both nearly completely stopped drinking. Poking fun quietly at other patrons, you couldn't remember smiling this much. Certainly not with a stranger.

Hal raised his hand and called someone over. You expected another round of drinks but he asked for two bottles. He caught your look just as he asked for them to be brought up to his room.

"I've had my fun, but I'd like to escape the commotion." Before you could ask if he was looking for your other service, he continued. "You're more than welcome to continue this conversation up there unless you've grown tired. I'll still pay, of course."

Just talking. You'd never have expected this from a man. And you certainly didn't have it in you to venture out this late full of ale. You took him up on his offer, following him out the main floor and up the stairs to his room.

He let you in before he followed, shutting the door behind him. A moment before he could walk away from the door, he heard a knock and opened it, receiving the two bottles he asked for. He closed the door with the side of his shoe, looking at you.

From the intense gaze, you almost expected an order to strip, but he walked past you to set the bottles on a table. He glanced over his shoulder. "You're free to sit wherever you please. No need to simply stand there."

You nodded but he'd already looked away. Your gaze fell on the bed and though a small part of your mind warned you to not sit there, you did anyway. Hal stared at the bottles as you looked him over.

Three hours were not long enough to know a person, especially when most of the conversation had been about you. Yet, you felt that all had been said downstairs. Maybe it was the ale, but you were warm with ideas about Hal.

He grabbed a bottle, mind set on something, and turned to find you on the bed. He looked you over before he made his way to you. Your heart spiked with emotion, stuttering as he moved behind you to all but flop onto the bed. You turned in your spot to look at him. Eyes on you, he held himself up by an elbow and took a large drink.

"Truthfully, I have nothing more I want to say to you," he said. "I've run out of things to talk about hours ago."

"Oh." You weren't sure to feel about that. "Then, why invite me up here?"

"Because I couldn't fathom letting a beautiful girl go." His eyes bored into yours, his mouth pulled into a frown. "Not in a place like this. Not when you still need to earn a living."

"So, what are you saying? You want to buy my body for the night?"

He lowered his gaze to the bottle. "I wouldn't want to disrespect you. I want to take your feelings into account. I will pay you for being in here, whether you enact your services or not. The choice is yours."

You scrunched your nose. "I'm not sure if you're really giving me a choice."

"Simply sit here and talk with me about whatever is on your mind." He held the bottle at his side, flopping back onto the bed. "Or, you can do what you first intended to do with me."

You gathered your dress in your hands, kicking off your flats. Pulling yourself further onto the bed with your knees, you looked down at him. "Which of us is really selling their body? You or me?"

He lazily turned his head to look at you. "If there is an answer, I am not the one who knows it."

You swallowed air. His gaze fell to your chest once more and you couldn't help but feel shy. Seeing how he looked at you, with such lust, you almost wondered if the ale messed with his head. He hadn't acted this way up until now.

You won't deny that when you first saw his face, you not only wanted his coin for capital reasons. You had truly been curious what a man of his nature would be like with a partner. Your hand reached out to him, finding the collar of his tunic and pulling it aside, revealing a bird charm on a chain necklace. You wanted to know if he was anything in bed like he had been in the pub, someone that you'd find yourself wanting to be with for hours on end.

"You're drunk," you reasoned.

"If I finish this bottle, then I can confidently say I am drunk. For the moment, my head is clear." He sat up, grabbing your hand before you could pull it away from his necklace. "Are your thoughts clear?"

Your heart stuttered. The warmth from his hand enveloped your small one. His face not so far from yours, you wondered what his lips would taste like. Ale, most definitely.

"My thoughts are my own."

He pressed your hand to his exposed collarbone, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Tell me you don't want this."

Your eyes flicked from his own to his necklace, to his lips, back to his eyes. You weren't sure you could say that. The thoughts in your head were your own, but they vanished the moment he declared this. You licked your lips, trying hard to utter any thought that weighed against this moment.

So far, you only found you wanted this as much as he seemed to. "Hal."

"Yes?"

You looked at the bottle. "I do want this. If you want this too, don't finish that bottle. I'd like you to be of the present mind."

If he could've set the bottle aside any faster than he had, you were certain he would. He adjusted himself to sit up fully, his hands holding him up on the bed while you let yours linger on his tunic.

"I wouldn't want you to forget me." You smiled softly.

"I don't believe any amount of ale could make me forget you." He exhaled slowly. "Whatever happens tonight, I ask that you remember me too."

You'd sunk back into your comfort zone, a teasing smile on your lips. "Show me what you got, and I'll carry your name to my grave."

He accepted the challenge. No more words needed to be spoken on the matter, both of you dove in for a kiss. You were right, he tasted like ale. Parting your lips and wrapping your arms around him, you were sure you tasted no different.

Both of you scrambled to take each other's clothes off. The moment his tunic went over his head, your hands traversed his torso, memorizing the rough edges. Your nails dragged along his skin, featherlight and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

It took a moment for your dress to come off, but it was just a heap on the ground by the time he grabbed you and laid you beneath him. Both nude, your eyes fell to his necklace, the bird in direct line of sight. You tapped your finger against it, letting it swing back and forth for a moment. Hal grabbed it, simply looking at your face.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you had no thoughts. Act first, think later was your current mindset. Your hands found purchase in his hair, fingers buried in the dark locks as you pulled him down to kiss you.

He tasted like heaven. His lips were slightly chapped but the same could be said for you. He swiped his tongue over your lips, drinking in your moans. His hands found their way to your breasts, massaging the mounds with slow, rough movements. You sighed into his mouth, enjoying his hands.

He broke the kiss, moving his mouth along your neck. He bit and sucked wherever his mouth landed, biting particularly hard below your collarbone, along the soft mound of your breast. You knew that mark would be visible in the morning, with the sort of dress you wore, but it only excited you more. People would see the markings of a beast, strangers in your path unaware what sort of angelic beauty put them on you.

You pushed on his shoulder, stopping his barrage of attacks with his mouth and brought his face back to yours. His kisses were finer than any ale from the richest of provinces. You could get drunk on his kisses, forget the number of tankards you went through earlier.

Hal massaged your legs. His hands slid up along the inside of your thighs. Your breath halted as he neared your cunt, only to breathe out in a huff as they fanned out to your hips. You hadn’t realized how sensitive your hips were. Not until he gingerly trailed the pads of his fingers against the area. Your hips jerked, a sharp exhale came from you as he let his eyes wander over your body.

He repeated the motion. Rinse and repeat. Nearing your cunt, only to touch your hips or squeeze your thighs. Each time he’d venture closer to your cunt, making your insides flutter. He brought his mouth down to one breast, licking the nipple. You were caught off guard by the action, assuming he’d continue to tease your lower body.

The attention to your breasts had been more than welcome though. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, head against the pillows and basking in his hot saliva coating your nipple. He flicked his tongue right before his teeth grazed it. When he moved to give the same attention to your other nipple, he used that distraction to use his hands.

Your breath caught in your throat, hips jerking once more. He slipped his thumb through your folds, swiping it through your wetness. Right before he pressed it against your clit and smothered the wetness on it.

You gasped and raised your hips. His thumb circled your clit, switching up the pattern every so often. You were so wet, a knot building from the attention he gave you. He didn’t stop, not when you tapped his arm and tried to convey you neared your high. Right on the edge, you threw your head back, ready to explode.

Hal pulled his hand away.

You let out a pained moan. The knot faded in a burning sensation to almost nothing as your gaze snapped to him. You furrowed your brows, reaching your hand to your cunt, about to finish yourself off.

“Why did you stop?”

He caught your hand. Your eyes widened as his narrowed. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You swallowed your spit, trying to find your words. “What do you have planned?”

“I’m going to make sure you remember this.”

He let go of your hand, which you let fall to your side. In favor of seeing where this was headed, you watched intently as he grabbed the back of your knees and parted your legs wider. He kept his gaze locked on your face as he neared your cunt. You shared a moment of silence, where nothing seemed to happen. The tension hadn’t dissipated and you nearly squirmed, gasping as he parted the folds of your cunt with his thumbs and blew against your clit.

It chilled against your went cunt. A stark contrast to the heat you felt that sent your cunt aflutter. He briefly glanced at your cunt, enveloping the little clit in his mouth. You let out a quipped moan, twitching under him. He worked wonders on you, that tongue of his rolling your eyes into your head. You grabbed his hair for stability, encouraging him with soft praises.

“Oh, god,” You said. “Lord, what you’re doing to me.”

You felt the knot once more. Repeating phrases such as that, swearing against the king, the lord, you swore to everyone but Hal’s name. His name was too holy to soil. You’d curse anything before you cursed him. He stopped, again, before you could reach that climax.

He ignored your grunting, lazily swirling his middle finger at the entrance of your cunt. “God isn’t here fucking you. Say my name.”

God, he looked like a saint. His beautiful face and mouth were completely opposite of the words coming from him.

“Hal,” you hissed. So, much for holy, you thought while you tried to buck against his mouth and finger. “Don’t stop.”

“I want you to scream my name when you cum.”

“Sure. Whatever you want, but don’t stop. I’m right there.”

That satisfied him. He returned to sucking your clit, his finger pushing past the entrance. You moaned his name, losing yourself as he added a second finger. He curled them, made scissors inside you, did whatever made you twitch and buck. Combined with his mouth working overtime, your hips shook violently, torn between the need to be still and the friction you got.

Everything exploded in a hot white, your back arching off the bed. True to your word, you screamed his name. Apart from the crack in your voice, the volume suited him.

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, replacing it with his mouth. Your legs threatened to close around his head, too overcome with stimulation. His hands kept your thighs apart, his wet fingers slick against one thigh. You dug your head into the pillows, crying out and weakly bucking as he lapped up your juices.

If he did that forever, as spent as you were, you would be in heaven. You were certain you were going to hell, but his mouth would redeem you. By the stars, you’d pledge to him if he kept you on a blissful high like this.

The moment he stopped lapping up your juices, he brought his face back to yours. He joined your mouths, forcing you to taste yourself on him. You shivered, the strange taste mixing with saliva. He cupped your face with both hands and you felt those wet fingers smear your juice on your cheek.

Breaking the kiss, you weakly reached between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you and flipped you so you were on top. You forced yourself down the bed a ways, lining your mouth up with his cock.

The tip leaked pre-cum. You took hold of his cock, holding it steady. He twitched and shivered the moment you licked his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue. You were about to go further, but he grabbed your hand.

“Stop.”

You stayed in your position, breaths fanned over the tip of his cock. Tilting your head slightly, you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He twitched in your hand. “Don’t. I don’t want you to do that.”

“I don’t understand.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, gauging his reaction. By the way he jolted, you knew he liked it. “Don’t you want this?”

“Not tonight.” Oh, so he planned for more sessions. “I said I’d make this night memorable for you.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

He pushed himself onto his elbows, staring into your eyes. “Get on your hands and knees.”

You understood what he meant, and turned around. He pulled himself to stand on his knees, all the while you backed your ass into him. You looked over your shoulder.

“What next, your majesty,” you teased.

He squeezed your hips, pulling you closer. “Don’t call me that.”

“What do you want to be called?”

He lined his cock at your entrance, teasing in the tip. “Just say my name.”

He held your hips steady, thrusting himself completely in. You moaned, head dropping down. He remained still, allowing you ample time to adjust to his size. Tears pricked your eyes by the time you picked your head back up, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hal,” your voice cracked slightly. You cleared your throat. He looked at you, scared he’d hurt you. “Don’t hold back.”

His face blanked. You feared you broke him. By how he acted, you figured he had some tricks up his sleeve, but he remained quiet.

“Hal?”

“I heard you.” He smoothed his hand along your back. Your eyes widened as he gripped your neck and pulled you until your back was flush against his chest. His lips brushed against your ear. “Are you certain?”

“I am.” You touched his hand on your neck. “Do whatever you want to me.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I trust you.”

He pulled out until his tip remained, then slammed his hips back into yours. “I’m going to make you cum. A thousand times over, whore.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t expected the name-calling, but it made your cunt flutter with want. Hal noticed this as well.

He bucked into you again, setting a pace for himself. “I’m going to make you forget every man. Only my name will make you quiver.”

“Yes.”

He squeezed your throat. “The moment you stepped into the pub, I had my eyes on your tits.” He breathed hotly into your face, his gaze set on the way your breasts bounced from his rigorous fucking. “Thought about my hands on them. Thought about fucking you with your tits pressed agaisnt the table.”

“Hal.”

“I’m going to make you cum until the sun comes up.” He bucked up into you. “Touch yourself.”

“Huh?” You exposed your neck for him, letting him bite your neck.

“Touch yourself. Play with your pretty clit.” His hand left your neck to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging hard. “Pleasure yourself.”

You did as told. Lowering your hand to your clit, you rubbed two fingers in a circle over it. Collecting the juices that spilled out of your cunt and coated his cock, you used it on yourself. It made it all the more slippery, your rubbing faster and sloppier.

He let go of your hair and you all but fell forward, catching yourself with your free arm. You laid your head on it, rubbing yourself in tune to the way his hips sporadically slammed against yours. He continued to buck into you, combined with your rubbing you knew your next wave was approaching.

And when it happened, you were a moaning mess, your fingers halting in their movement as you became nearly limp, rocking with Hal’s thrusts. He brought his hand between your legs, continuing to overstimulate you. You writhed under his touch, moaning his name in what sounded like whimpers.

He took your fingers, sticking them along with his own in his mouth. You shivered at how his tongue lapped at your fingers. It was short lived, as he brought them to your mouth straight after. You sucked on his fingers, your hand fallen out of your mouth to lay listlessly by your head.

Your walls fluttered around his cock. Moans muffled around his fingers, you let him pull them out of your mouth to go back to rubbing your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“God, Hal, if you keep this up,” your hazy mind said, “I’ll have to pledge my allegiance to you.”

Hal, for what it was worth, pressed himself to you. “What was that? Speak up.”

You moaned. “I’m pledging allegiance to you, Hal.”

“What?” His thrusts slowed so he could gather his thoughts. “You’re supposed to pledge allegiance to your king and country.”

“Yeah?” You arched your back into the bed. “Fuck the king and country. You’re the one I’m in bed with.”

“So, what are you saying?” He continued to thrust. “You’d give up any other man for me?”

“For this?” You quivered. “Yes.”

His thrusts picked back up. Pace fast and rough, he gave everything his all. “Then, cum for me. Cum for your king.”

Your legs shook violently from how rough he handled you. The knot returned full force. If you hadn’t already had your face planted into the bed, you’d have collapsed from how hard you came. Hal’s name chanted from your lips, you weakly bucked back into him until he climaxed right after.

He continued to fuck you through both of your orgasms. His seed spilled into you, hot and full. Your walls fluttered erratically around him, taking him all in.

The moment he had finished, he pulled out of you and collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed. You turned your head, basking in his handsome features. His face and body glistened with sweat. No doubt you were the same.

Hal weakly brushed some hair out of your face. “Did you mean it?”

You hummed, mind partly focused on the leakiness from your cunt. “Mean what?”

“You pledged your fealty to me. Do you want to be mine?”

“Your personal whore?” You scoffed. “If that’s how you always fuck, yes.”

“No other man will bed you?”

“Not if you pay me. I still need to make a living.”

Hal nodded. “It’s settled then.”

He wrapped his arm around you. You pressed a brief kiss to his jawline, snuggling closer to him.

“Did you mean what you said about making me cum until sunrise?”

“Yes.” His eyes closed. “Enjoy your break. We’re starting again soon.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I could get used to this.”

[autumnsart22]

Waking up with Levi

Waking up with a possessive Levi oneshot 🙏 If you want more (plus smut lolll), you can read the prequel “The Night Before” here! 

Inspo: 

AKJFHDIUSGHIUHD PLEASE 🥵🥵🥵

Usually, Levi woke up early. Like god awful, before the sun has even begun to rise early. He had met your fury on more than one occasion when he tried to kick you out of his room before dawn, insisting that you couldn’t get caught together. 

It made sense: a cadet and a captain? Rumors of favorable treatment and sleeping to the top would hound you, and that was definitely not something you wanted to deal with. But it was still annoying to have to sneak around. 

It wasn’t like you were hiding any sort of real relationship with Levi, since you had both agreed to keep it physically based only. Being a Scout meant the risk of dying constantly, and worrying about another person wasn’t something that we could afford. And although you didn’t know the specifics, you knew that Levi had lost more people than you could imagine; he had no interest in losing another person he loved, so he just tried not to love anyone at all. 

Unfortunately, he made it very difficult for you to not fall for him. You tried, truly. You had the whole “I’m an independent person, I don’t need no men,” talk, and you insisted to yourself that your feelings were purely physical. 

At first, that was probably true. You had been meeting up with Levi secretly for months, and most of the time it was sex and then he left. Just a way to distract each other. But then there were other times when he came to check on you when you were sick, and insisted you rode with his squad, and brought you food to your room after a long day of training. He was blunt and rude most of the time, and he definitely wasn’t the most talkative, but he showed he cared about you in other ways. 

Fuck him and his perfect, stupid face...

...which was now only inches from your own. The early morning sun shone across the room, illuminating his sleeping features as he continued to breathe lightly, his mouth slightly open. A bit of his hair had flopped across his face, and you had the sudden urge to brush it back; except that your hands were pinned by his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Which also made you realize that you were completely naked, in Levi’s room, and the sun was up. 

Shit. Shit. SHIT. 

You could hear the sounds of the rest of the Scouts already awake, shouts as people trained and went to the dining hall, and footsteps passing Levi’s room. 

How had this happened???? 

Sure, you both had stayed up very late last night, and you both had been pretty worn out after three consecutive rounds of Levi fucking you into oblivion. You could feel an ache in your muscles already forming, your lower back killing you, and you were sure that Levi had made multiple visible marks all along your neck, collarbone, and breasts. 

“Levi, Leviiii...” you whispered, wriggling in his arms. He sighed, one of the softest and sweetest sounds you had ever heard him make, but his arms only tightened around you. “It’s already morning, we have to get up--” 

You felt your entire body freeze in horror as a knock echoed from his door. 

“Captain Levi! Urgent message from Commander Erwin!” 

You jolted into a seated position as you heard the door open, pulling the sheet up to your chest to try and hide your completely naked body. Was there somewhere to hide? Could you go under the blankets? Should you run for it? Why was the Cadet coming into Levi’s room uninvited anyway???

“Captain--” The young man froze as he entered the room, meeting your wide eyes. There was no hiding what had happened last night: your hair was a complete wreck, the sheets were rumpled, and you were naked in bed with Levi Ackerman. 

“Uh-uh-” The man clearly wasn’t sure how to handle this situation, but before he could figure it out, you felt movement to your right. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Levi’s voice was colder than you had ever heard it, and you turned to find him sitting up, his eyes lethal as he glared at the Cadet. 

“E-E-Erwin said to wake you, sir...I didn’t-didn’t realize--” His eyes flickered to you, and Levi immediately stood up and stalked toward him menacingly. Thankfully, he was wearing pants, although he was still shirtless. 

“Don’t fucking look at her,” he snarled, and the Cadet immediately looked straight ahead, trembling even though he was taller than Levi by half a foot. “She’s my bitch. Get out before I beat the shit out of you and personally feed you to the titans.” 

The Cadet whimpered a weak, “Yes Captain,” before literally running from the room. 

You groaned as the door slammed shut, slumping back to the bed and covering your face with your hands. You felt utterly humiliated. How would you ever be able to look the rest of the Scouts in the eye knowing that they now knew your nightly ventures? 

You heard Levi’s footsteps approaching, but you couldn’t look at him. After a long second, he grabbed your wrists and forced your eyes up. 

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, touching your flushed cheeks with the thumb that wasn’t busy holding your arms up.

You turned your face away, groaning. “Now everyone’s going to know.” 

“Tch.” Levi moved back into bed, flicking you hard on the forehead. “If someone says anything to you, I’ll just kill them.” 

“No, there’s no need for that.” You rolled your eyes. “I just thought you didn’t want anyone to know…” You didn’t want him to be upset about whatever we had going on being out in the open now. 

“It’s fine,” he grunted, slumping back down onto the bed and pulling you close again to bury his face in your hair. “I want people to know you’re mine anyway. Now go back to sleep.” 

“What? But it’s already past dawn!” 

“And I’m still tired.” 

“B-But--” 

“Shut up, Y/n.”