#projecting my job onto the terror once again i have thoughts.

[johntorrington]

he should’ve been a chainsmoking sound guy for concerts whos been in the industry for forty years that tells you unhinged stories about his buddy who toured with rush unprompted on your smoke break

[furmity]

Anti- vaxxers

I’m still mourning a friendship which ended over a year ago. A really important friendship.

I first met her many years ago at a shitty job. We didn’t talk that much but I remembered her because she was the first person I ever met who came from Mparntwe (Alice Springs). She has stunning blue and green flecked eyes.

Years later I moved to Mparntwe, and thought of her on the drive up. It’s common there for multiple houses to be on the same block of land (for Reasons, I don’t know). As we drove up the driveway to our new home a girl came out of from one of the other houses to say hello, and it was HER. Those eyes. The only person I knew in that wild town and she was my neighbour!

We quickly became friends. It was a very important friendship because of course for a while she was my only friend in a new town. She is a nomad, she’d come to Tarndanya (Adelaide) for a while, then moved on. So she did at least twice a year, going all over Australia. I did not recognise that as a potential red flag. I was in Mparntwe for about two and a half years, she came and went at least four times. I’d miss her terribly.

My sister once described her as “earnest”, and that’s how she is. A kind of radical honesty, she doesn’t hide her vulnerabilities or needs. Naturally she has very good social skills to move around so much and make friends, cultivating reciprocal relationships and community. I learnt a lot from her. It was a therapeutic friendship that really helped take down some of my walls. She introduced me to a lot of new things.

Need I say she is a consummate hippy. Organic food, “Buddhism- ish”, plant medicine, bare feet, the occasional conspiracy theory. Gradually I started to realise that the nomadic lifestyle was a symptom of her emotional problems. When she’d “feel the call” to travel north, it was because a dating scenario had gone south, or her job wasn’t satisfactory (but she returned to the same job every time she was in town...) I realised how much she was running from, how much was swept under the rug. She’d stay as long as she was distracted, but when the terrors started to surface again she’d move on.

What ultimately seems to have ended our friendship was vaccines and western medicine. That makes it sound like we argued, but no, I WISH we’d argued... then I’d really know for sure. I only remember a single conversation about vaccines, maybe late 2020 before any COVID vaccinations were even available. I thought the conversation had gone well, but it seems it stuck in her mind as something she had to Be Careful about with me.

A year afterwards she was distressed because there was of course a lot of pressure to get the jab, COVID passports, and she was working in the disibility sector where it was mandatory. She left her job and was going to go to that hippy refuge of Mullumbimby. Much mention of Youtube videos she’d seen. We weren’t in the same town at that point, all our conversations were through text.

When I got my first dose of the vaccine (the dread AstraZeneca, at that) I sent a simple message stating the fact and swore to myself that it would be all I said on the matter. No reply. In fact she wouldn’t answer messages of any kind. She was always anxious about ‘phone calls, so that was out of the question. This went on for a couple of months, I don’t remember the exact sequence. I even visited her town and she didn’t make time to see me. In a friendship where nothing was taboo, how could this be the one thing we couldn’t talk about?

We kind of sorted it out, she said she’d projected all her fears onto me and was sorry about it. I was hurt but relieved, said we were all scared and had been for over a year now. Not much contact but again I visited and actually saw her again. Turned out it would be for the last time.

Bad news, and I think this was the nail in the coffin. She had just heard she had a concerning PAP smear result, her doctor wanted a biopsy and was warning that the likely outcome would be to have part of her cervix removed. Really scary news for anyone, and devastating for her because she had always wanted children. She tearfully told me about how she didn’t want to be cut into and wanted to explore alternative medicine. That this was surely caused by the sexual trauma of her past and if she healed that, it would heal her body. I, gently as I could, implored her to listen to her doctors and do what they told her. I said that no, western medicine doesn’t take into account the emotional dimension of disease, but it cures, it cures very well and please let them cure you! You can work on the emotional trauma and maybe stop this cancer from coming back- but it’s physical now and you need to trust the experts.

She was going to have the biopsy in Tarndanya, and in that conversation it was decided she’d stay with me throughout. That never happened. Once I went home, I couldn’t get hold of her again. When I did she was in Tasmania “in love with a beautiful man and doing lots of hiking”, ignoring the problem. I don’t know if, a year later, she has dealt with it at all.

Gradually I got a long message about what a healing, wonderful friendship we had shared but it just wasn’t what she needed right now. She hoped that one day we could reconnect and how much I meant to her. To which I cried in the night, “Then why are you DUMPING ME?” It was such toxic positivity.... So nice you want to be there for me, we’re in different head- spaces right now, somehow turning it into respecting boundaries I’d put down.

It was hard because I didn’t want to be making it about me when she was effectively saying “I’m sick and have very little energy, I’m withdrawing until I get this sorted out”. I did not want to inflict myself on someone who asked for space, beating at a closed door. But how could I not conclude that I was being cut out for being the one person in her life not flattering her fears? With no catharsis I was left to my own conclusions and a persistent doubt that I was, in fact, the asshole. I hate to think that’s how she remembers me. I hate to think she genuinely meant to come back, I just don’t believe it.

I never dared ask her if she’d received Gardasil.

-------

This sequence of events ultimately radicalised me. Before the pandemic I had been aware of anti- vaxxers as fringe weirdos. I figured as long as there weren’t very many it didn’t make much real difference: body autonomy absolutism, and all. It hinged on personal decision versus proselytizing, really.

The pandemic really changed my mind on this. When I had my first vaccine dose I cried all the way home and for the rest of the day. It was all SO STUPID, I was so frustrated. Millions had already died, we were all exhausted from being so scared. Here was a solution, offered for free. I received AstraZeneca when everyone was inflating the blood- clot risk (I survived the contraceptive pill...) and waiting for the Pfizer vaccine. People without a notable vulnerability waiting for their preferred brand of life- saving vaccine. I hated it.

I’d read all the stupid anti- vaxx flyers I’d been given on the street, looked at all the stupid LYING websites...A letter signed by “concerned doctors” in New Zealand, giving their names and “medical license numbers” which, you know, can be double checked extremely easily... A “scientific paper” from Japan with broken, nonsensical sentences and line diagrams of molecules scattered around the borders... Even websites which gave links to genuine papers in The Lancet would be completely misunderstood. Everyone back then was an amateur virologist. I was just about to start my law degree and OH BOY did it give me a warm up trying to discern the weird claims people were making about the illegality of this or that.

I realised this was the hill I would die on- or not, as it were. It stopped being any kind of quirk, it became about dangerous stupidity, even maliciousness. Someone consciously made that phony doctors’ letter, that fake research abstract. I realised what a blessed privilege it was to have scientist parents who taught me how to think critically and practice discernment. I despaired. I raged. How can you doubt what an entire community of experts who have spent years earning their place to build on the knowledge of their professional ancestors, but you believe just some guy with a webcam?

The world is too big and broad for me to ever understand everything in depth. There reaches a point when I simply need to defer to someone who lives their life immersed in a topic, vouched for by the institutions and bodies which regulate, publish, and teach these professions. I don’t understand vaccines well, even the Wikipedia page on viruses contains too many words I don’t understand. I have to credit the people who do understand, who’ll break it down for me into digestible chunks, who haven’t been driven completely mad by all the bullshit circling through public conversation these last few years.

That conversation with my friend about vaccines? Do you know why I thought it had gone well? I had explained that there are diseases which our generation has simply never suffered because of vaccinations. We take it for granted because it’s never been real to us. Smallpox is gone. My parents are old enough to remember polio- not me. I’d said it was a gift to live in a time when childhood vaccination really allowed our parents to expect us to survive our childhood. What a gift to be given a life expectancy! I thought that would land somewhere in her.

If you’re an anti- vaxxer, you have blood on your hands. Shut up, you do. Measles was almost gone and it’s coming back. It’s a child- killer, did you know that? You really are the most closed- minded kind of person, and the worst thing is you think you aren’t because ~you don’t trust the government, such a free thinker~. Get the fuck off my blog and learn how to read a goddamn scientific paper if you won’t take the plain English version the health authorities have tried to give you. Fuck you.

[starbornvalkyrie]

ACOSF USA BOOK TOUR NOTES

Hey y’all! I just attended the LiveTalks Los Angeles event with Sarah J Maas and Eva Chen!! I took lots of notes so I wanted to share them with you all! They’re a little incoherent on the page, so it might seem a crazy, they jumped topics a lot. Feel free to chat with me about what she talked about! But first.

MY RULES:

NO SHIP OR CHARACTER SLANDERING. I know that we all may have different opinions. I will not offer my opinions here, this is purely informational for those of you who did not have the opportunity to attend this event.

PLEASE NO ARGUING IN MY COMMENTS OR ASK BOX WITH ME OR ANYONE ELSE WHO COMMENTS

Acknowledge that I am not perfect and may not have written down everything perfectly. I did my best while still trying to enjoy the event.

I AM NOT SARAH J MAAS AND CANNOT INTERPRET WHAT SHE MEANS

I’m tagging this with #acosf spoilers and #acosfspoilers just in case.

If you understand and can abide by these rules, keep reading below the cut, and enjoy!

SJM said it was weird doing this event from her living room where you might be able to hear her dog in the background or her son trying to get into the room.

ACOSF started as a passion project while she was writing ACOWAR! It was never anything she thought she was going to publish. (more on this later)

About reading and writing growing up

in middle school, she read a lot of fantasy

in high school, she didn’t read as much, but wrote A LOT. it became her fixation, almost an obsession.

in college, she only really wrote on vacations (she had a very healthy social life hehehe) but her junior year is when she found her balance between schoolwork, writing, and socializing.

there was no plan B for her!! it was always to be an author. if it didn’t happen right away, she was going to find a job that would get her by until plan A could come to be.

her favorite author growing up was Garth Nix. She longed for books about badass women. She got to meet him and write a blurb to be on one of his books! She cries when she meets her favorite authors.

Talk about character names!

her character names come from everywhere and nowhere

sometimes she’ll just hear a name in her head and think “that’s it!” (Rhys, for example)

she needs to know the name to write the character

if the name doesn’t immediately come to her, she spends a lot of her time on baby name websites and makes lists until it clicks

sometimes the names just... connect. sometimes she doesn’t mean for them to.

it will always be uncommon. never “Frank” lol

Writing about Nesta!

on a “surface level” she loves writing when Nesta comes out to fight. for example, her favorite scene in this aspect to write was the bog scene. As soon as she got to it, it flowed out of her. The final product was almost identical to the first draft. She wrote it in one session, from the terror & tread to the “who am i?” to when she emerged--she went YES. MAJOR Mic Drop moment for her.

going deeper: definitely her overall journey was one of the favorites she’s ever written. From the dark place she’s in at the beginning to the very end. 

Writing about Nesta meant so much to her because of her own mental health. She channeled a lot of her own feelings and went on the journey with Nesta.

it was a lot of “how do you face mental health in a fantasy world without therapy and medication”

it was easy to get into Nesta’s mind but emotionally intense.

ACOSF’S BIG MESSAGE: LEARNING TO LOVE YOURSELF AND OTHERS. YOU ARE WORTH OF LOVE.

YES there is a book planned for Elain!

As soon as Nesta and Elain came onto the page again in ACOMAF, she knew they’d get their own journey.

Nesta grabbed her by the throat in book 1

She was originally contracted for only the first three books but realized there was more she wanted to explore. Essentially the “what comes next” after ACOWAR in this new world with out the wall.

FUN FACT: while editing ACOMAF/writing ACOWAR, she drunkenly told her editor at the time, “hey guess what happens next?”, and it turned into a two hour conversation about everything she wants to happen for Nesta, Elain, Mor, Azriel, etc. TWO WEEKS LATER, she gets a call saying they want to buy the stories!! Obviously, she said yes.

This allowed her to start planting the Easter eggs for these stories in ACOWAR. She knew she did not want Nesta to be sympathetic at the beginning of the book! But she did not want people to hate her.

She always has one eye on the horizon for future books.

If she could visit one court for a day, which and why?

She LOVES the season Autumn, it’s her favorite. “BUT EVERYONE IN THE AUTUMN COURT IS AN ASSHOLE”. She would want to visit the Autumn Court when no one is there so she can enjoy the beauty of Autumn.

But also she would want to go to the Summer Court because she has a thing for Tarquin but only if it’s not gross and humid.

She would ALSO want to go to the Day Court for Helion and all his libraries.

ESSENTIALLY she would want to go everywhere but Spring because Tamlin sucks and is an asshole lmao.

BEAST FORMS

SJM’s beast form would be something totally not cool or majestic like a sea otter.

Nesta’s beast form would be something terrifying and beautiful like a snow leopard/dragon hybrid, a griffin, or a sphinx. **WANTS SOMEONE TO DRAW THIS**

FUN QUESTIONS

Nesta’s favorite smutty book would be JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series. She reads these books for the distraction, of course, but also for the comfort they gave her that everything turns out okay for the characters.

Nesta’s Starbucks order: cappuccino- something simple, nothing with too much sugar or whipped cream. Elain’s would be a Frappe- something delicious and sweet. SJM’s is a flat white, iced or not, but never after 2PM.

SJM usually listens to classical music and movie scores while she writes, but she’s gotten used to write in silence so that she can listen for her son’s shenanigans with Josh.

“Stay Together for the Kids” by Blink 182 semi-inspired the scene when Nesta and Cassian go back to her family’s cottage. She can hardly explain why.

WRITING ADVICE

Write what you love, not what you think you should be writing.

Give yourself permission to suck. Her first drafts are shit and are usually accompanied with an email that says “I know I need to fix this, this and that” lol.

WRITE THE DAMN THING. Vomit on the page!

YOU CAN’T FIX A BLANK PAGE.

Her least favorite part about the publishing process is the first pass of copy edits, those last minute checks and balances. But once it’s off to the printer, it’s not her problem anymore.

She’s every publisher’s worst nightmare because she sends it off to the printer at the LAST possible minute.

For reference: Throne of Glass was finished almost... a year and a half? ...before it hit shelves, but ACOSF was finished this past fall.

MAIN CHARACTER TALK

All of her heroines have a piece of her.

SJM’s personality is a hybrid of Bryce and Nesta.

Feyre and Nesta got most of her in terms of learning to be empowered.

She has to have a connection to them in order to write them. It’s an out of body, method acting experience.

MISCELLANEOUS

She said “CC2 is a year from now.”

She started writing ACOTAR in 2008 before she published TOG.

She loves the story and dynamic of Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Cassian is Elizabeth. Nesta is Darcy.

And that’s all I have, folks! Thank you for reading, I hope you got something out of this!

[txemrn]

The Missionary's Daughter

Ch. 1: "Meant to Live"

Need to catch up? Prologue: "It's Over"

Chapter Song Inspo: "Meant to Live" by Switchfoot

Series Song Inspo: "Changed by You" by Between the Trees

Pairings: Drake Walker x OC (Margot Hughes); Liam Rys x Riley Brooks

Series Warning: 🛑 for mature audiences only (🔞); series contains angst, language, NSFW🍋 material; trigger warning: heavy discussion/depiction of drug and alcohol abuse, suicide, religion, mental health; please be advised and exercise discretion

A/N: When I say that this took a village, it would be the understatement of the century! Huuuuuuuuge thank you to all of my amazing sweet writing sisters that encouraged me and helped me pull this together, but especially to @charlotteg234 for brainstorming and mapping this out with me, @kat-tia801 for doing the same, but then having to deal with me incessantly asking, "Does this sound right?" and @chemist-ana FOR GIFITNG ME MY FREAKING AMAZING MOODBOARD! It's SO beautiful, and it literally puts me in the mood to write about my Druggy Drake and Margot! Thank you so, so much, friend! Most of the characters and some of the plot belong to our friends at Pixelberry.

A palpable crackle ignites the sterile air of the staff locker room. To say she was ‘nervous’ is a painfully severe understatement to the jitters that spark from her fingertips. But, rather than dance chaotically like cut wires on pavement, she is lightning, mesmerizing, lighting up the sky with excitement and power.

***

Dressing for another Monday morning at her weekly volunteer job at the prestigious Cordonia Family OB/GYN, Margot Hughes swiftly shimmies a monogrammed ceil blue scrub top down her curves. Pulling her brilliant strands of autumn harvest into a high bun, she slips on her work clogs while nudging her locker closed with her knee.

Before leaving the changing area, she catches her visage in the mirror, the unflattering fluorescent lights casting more shadows onto her worried features. She can feel the rumble of her rapid heartbeat echoing in her ears; her chest constricts tightly as her breathing becomes shallow. Her eyes begin to sting with fear as the whites burn red, threatening with a glaze of tears.

Today is the day her entire life will change; everything she has ever wanted, everything that she has ever worked for will suddenly determine the course of her future in a single moment. Seeing the all-too-familiar terror in her eyes, Margot flutters her eyelids shut. Her fingers nervously trace along a simple chain around her neck until they finally grasp tightly to a dainty sterling silver charm: a cross.

“Take my anxieties, Lord,” she whispers with prayerful conviction, her sparkling blue eyes gracefully opening to look at her necklace. She exhales deeply. “Your will be done.” Margot stares at her reflection for a few more moments, focusing on her breathing to calm her restless heart. “You are strong, Margot. You've got this,” she affirms herself in a hushed tone, a bright smile breaking across her face. “This is your day--" suddenly overwhelmed with peace, a joyous smile paints across her face. Chuckling to herself, she glances upwards: “I'm counting on You.” Taking a deep cleansing breath, she eagerly exits the stillness of her thoughts, and joins the bustle of the morning's clinic appointments. Today is her day.

***

Halos of blurred auras bleach his vision as Drake cautiously opens one blood-shot eye. His tongue sticks to the roof of his roughly parched mouth as he massages his pained forehead. Clueless of what day it is--much less what he did last night--he is greeted with a sudden glorious sensation: a supple wet mouth on his hardened morning length.

His body relaxes back onto the dampened, disheveled sheets of his bed; he releases a pleasurable exhale as he blindly reaches for the head behind the lips. He strains to focus his view, but can only make out a foggy shape of a nude woman with long, tousled brunette waves.

It’s her. His love.

Drake smiles; delicately tangling his grip in her strands, he admires how even the afternoon sun catches her beauty perfectly. He quietly smacks his lips. He can still smell her on his stubble; he can still taste her on his tongue.

Had she told Liam? Were they celebrating that they could finally be together?

As she takes in the head of his girth, he arches his back, relaxing his body into her hungry touch. Closing his eyes, he offers a guttural groan deep in his chest as she swirls her tongue around his firm thickness.

“God, you’re incredible, Riley--”

---

Pulling out a pen, Margot reaches across the counter to grab a patient’s clipboard--that is until Iris, the front desk manager grips her long, manicured nails to the other side of the particle wood. “Miss Mary-Margaret,” she leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice, “do we know anything yet?” Margot chuckles, shaking her head. “Child, you better come find me the moment you know!”

“Only if you promise to start calling me ‘Margot’” the young blonde jests, opening her client’s chart.

“How about I start calling you what we’ll all be calling you in just a few short years: ‘doctor’?” Rosy pink swirls splash across Margot’s face, warming her cheeks to the touch. She bows her head coyly at the mention of her dream becoming a reality. The thought that she will soon find out if a medical career is in her future makes the twenty-one-year-old’s heart leap with unbridled excitement.

For as long as she can remember, Margot has had a strong desire to serve and help other people. Much of that selfless attitude was instilled into her heart by her own parents. They were called to be Christian missionaries when Margot was only eight years old. After much planning, church fund-raising, and prayer, Roy and Mary Hughes left their comfortable home of Lafayette, Louisiana, and settled in the small Mediterranean country of Cordonia.

Many of their friends and family were shocked that the church would send them to such a beautiful area of the world. Typically missionaries humble themselves to serve the needy, the homeless, the lonely and the sick. They sacrifice the luxuries of home for the sake of loving humanity. They help people in war-torn countries, third-world countries, countries that don’t have electricity or running water. But, this country?

Cordonia itself is a lavish nation, rich in heritage and traditions. And funds. Thanks to the ideal weather conditions, the fruitful soil produces bountiful harvests and exquisite supplies for fine textiles that remain in high demand throughout the world. The Cordonian government, a monarchy, discovered a new opportunity to expand their wealth in the late 19th century: costly tariffs to international investors. Within the first ten years of increasing the taxes on exports, the national treasury was not only in the black, but their funds had exponentially increased every year. Farms were flourishing as the working class became larger, stronger.

But, the treasury began to dwindle quickly due to the extravagant demands of the royals. For the first time in the country's history, commoners were wealthier than some of the nobility. Disdain from the upper class quickly ensued until finally, in the early 20th century under the rule of William I, a new tax law was implemented to all of Cordonia: anyone involved with international exchange would have to pay into the treasury to handle such business.

Unfortunately, there were no limitations to this new tax law, and many farms floundered, property ownership being seized by the government. Families were uprooted; jobs were lost, and worse, assets were sold for even more money, filling the pockets of the greedy leaders. The people that once had a plethora of goods at their fingertips were now starving and unsheltered. And vengeful. The Cordonians were outraged by the gouging, many of them forming violent riots, banding together with outside influencers in hopes of overthrowing the government.

On the cusp of a civil war, King William I decided to rezone the country, providing a place for the displaced working class to claim safety and sanctuary, a place that would offer shelter, education, and more affordable options for goods. To appease the people even more, he named the project ‘the Core,’ paying homage to their greatest export, the Cordonian Ruby. It was also a way for him to forever express his gratitude for such a fruitful nation: they were the core reason the nation was thriving so richly.

Like many government-assisted programs, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show in the infrastructure. And with funding cuts over the years, the Core began to crumble, striking a sharp contrast from the rest of Cordonia. The Core, now often referred to as ‘the slums’, have become a breeding ground for crime, drugs, and prostitution. It is the blemish of Cordonia, its existence often not acknowledged amongst the elite.

But, according to the Hughes, ‘God saw the need’. They were sent to serve in the slums of Cordonia, starting up several free programs, including a nightly soup kitchen, afterschool programs to keep children out of trouble, and trade classes to help adults out of poverty. The people accepted the help and adapted quickly to the missionaries; but even more importantly, they embraced these Americans as their own, many of them forming important and lasting relationships with the Hughes.

But, still there was something missing, something that burdened the missionary’s oldest daughter: healthcare. Having good health and access to a doctor is still treated as a privilege in Cordonia, and time and time again, the curable were disabled or buried. A change needed to take place. And Margot, although unsure of how, knew she would devote her life in making it happen for the Cordonian people.

As she makes a few notes on her clipboard, an olive-complected arm stealthily reaches around Margot, gracefully grazing her sun-kissed skin before gently placing a cup of piping hot black coffee in front of her. Staring at the hand, she instantly knows who it is. And she titters, playfully rolling her eyes. “Tadd! Another coffee?” She grabs the coffee, twirling on the ball of her foot to face the clinic’s young ultrasound technician. "My tab must be over a hundred euros by now!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," he chuckles, rocking on his feet. “Plus, I figured with your new gig at Bríki--” he jovially shrugs his shoulders.

“You figured what?” Margot playfully punches his shoulder. “That I could sneak you free coffee?” She gives a mischievous smile, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Mr. Pavlis would appreciate me offering free drinks, especially since I haven’t even started yet--”

“That’s right!” Tadd eyes widen. “Today’s the day--!”

“As if I didn’t already have enough to be nervous about today,” Margot’s voice becomes shaky, as she clenches her teeth in a forced smile.

“Hey,” Tadd’s voice turns into an endearing whisper. He shifts his head until his piercing jade eyes meet Margot’s baby blues. “You have nothing to worry about. We both know you did well on that American doctor test--"

"The MCAT," Margot stifles a laugh, rolling her eyes into an appreciative grin.

"Whatever," a crooked smile grows across Tadd's handsome features. "And as far as the coffee shop, you're a fast learner. And a hard worker. Plus, if they see what we all see in you--" he sighs, his gaze never breaking free from hers, "-- they're going to love you."

Margot looks down at her feet, hugging her clipboard tightly to her chest. Feeling her palms begin to sweat, she coyly looks back up at her dear friend. "Thanks, Tadd."

After a few silent moments of staring at each other, Tadd clears his throat. "So, um--" he starts, "have you heard anything yet? About the test?" Tadd changes the subject. Margot shakes her head as she takes a pull from her coffee. "Well, when you do, um, maybe we could, I mean, I thought we could--"

Suddenly an intercom buzzes overhead. "Thaddeus to exam room four. Thaddeus to exam room four."

Tadd furrows his eyebrows, looking to the ceiling before resting a kind half-smile back on Margot. "Duty calls," he nervously sighs as he bounds down the hallway. Halfway down the corridor, he spins around to face Margot. "Hey, um, come find me! Before you leave at noon!" He finger-guns the air before returning to his pursuit.

Margot awkwardly finger-guns him back before smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Seriously, Margot?" she mutters to herself, turning her attention back to the central desk of the clinic; however, she realizes quickly that the attention is all on her.

"When are you two going to make it official, Miss Mary-Margaret?" Iris chokes in the midst of her belly laughs, nodding with other scrub-adorned coworkers.

Biting her bottom lip feeling her heart flutter, Margot straightens out her demeanor, becoming stoic. "I--I don't know what you're talking about--"

"Margot, isn't it obvious?" Chimes in a jolly intake nurse. "That boy loves you--!"

"Who? Tadd?" Margot feigns innocence. She fixes her attention to the chart as she scribbles down more notes. "It's not like that--I mean, we're not, um--" she sighs. "We're just friends--" An instant roar of laughter abrupts from the reception desk, making it impossible for Margot to hide her toothy-smile paired with her scrunched up nose.

"You say that now, baby girl--"

"That's right," chimes in another giggling co-worker, "friends for now!"

An older plump nurse places a tender hand on Margot’s hand, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Some of the best relationships come from friendships, moró. Give it time. Let the love grow," she winks at Margot.

Margot fidgets with her pen, delicately licking her bottom lip. She then tries to form words with her mouth, but no sound is heard. Her pink cheeks reveal she is flustered. She quickly closes up the chart, pushing loose hairs behind her ear. "Have a good day, ladies."

Hearing the squeals of her coworkers diminishing behind her, Margot quickly escapes into an empty exam room. Closing the door behind her, she leans against it, looking up at the textured ceiling tiles. She can feel the butterflies in her stomach bouncing through to her heart as her legs wiggle with weakness like gelatin.

The idea of 'falling in love' excites Margot, an idea she has dreamed about ever since she saw Baby meet Johnny. But, so far in her young life, she has never experienced it first hand, let alone a romantic hand- hold. Was this love? All she knew for sure was today was not the day to figure it out.

***

As soon as Riley’s name escapes his breathless moans of ecstasy, a searing sharp pain instantly ignites around his hardened girth. And Drake sees red.

"Fuck!" He lets out a guttural roar until no sound comes out of his mouth. He gnashes his teeth, trying to breathe through the agony, but only froths at the corners of his lips. The veins in his neck and his forehead protrude violently as streams of tears roll down his face. Petrified to move, his face turns a deep ruddy color. Before turning violet.

A sudden sensation of relief washes over him as the stabbing sensation fades to throbbing. Drake nervously looks down at his softening cock, relieved to see his member in one piece. "Goddamnit, Brooks," he pants furiously, "you fucking bit me--"

The brunette quickly tosses her curls out of her eyesight right before her fist meets Drake's jaw. "Oh, shit!" The cracking of the joints in his face echoes around the room. Drake starts to gently massage his chin. "You're not Riley--"

She climbs off of his body, standing her naked body in front of him. "No shit, Sherlock!" She slinks her short black spaghetti-strap dress over her dangerous curves before hastily grabbing her clear platform heels and racing out the door. "Fuck you, Drake Walker!"

***

A heartless, cocky laugh pours over the phone speaker. "Shit, Walker. Just--" the baritone voice trails back into a fit of laughter.

"It's not funny, Leo--" Drake warns, accidentally shifting his weight in bed, stirring a soreness to his recent injuries. "Ow!” he sucks air quickly between his gritted teeth, “fuck!" he whimpers to himself, adjusting the cold packs on his genitals.

"But you actually called her a different name, bro. A different name! With her mouth on your salami, your pocket rocket, on your--on your anaconda--" Leo's words fade back into cackles.

"As if you remember every goddamn hook-up’s name--"

"Dude," Leo interrupts, "if she's going to go all hungry, hungry hippo mid-blowie, I'm going to remember her name."

Drake scoffs. "Bullshit--"

"What? I'm serious, bro" Leo's voice becomes sincere. "All of these bitches we meet are looking for one thing--" he pauses dramatically for his wounded friend to finish his sentence; but the silence proves Drake is clueless as to where Leo was going with this. "A connection, Walker!" Leo's voice drips with conviction. "These women don't want to feel like they're disposable, even though--" he chuckles to himself, “let’s be honest: we’re doing them a favor--”

"--’A connection’, Leo" Drake interrupts, urging the conversation back on track.

"Right! ‘A connection," reaffirms Leo, circling back to his point. "Now, okay,” he knowingly titters, “I can’t remember all of these names--”

“Ha! See?” Drake barks.

“--Which is why--” Leo enunciates over Drake, “I use a single pet name. ‘Girl’.”

"'Girl'? That’s your trick? You call them 'girl'?" Drake raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Hear me out,” Leo continues. “If you call them something like ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’, it can be seen as patronizing, that you’re clearly looking to smooth-talk your way into their pants--” Drake rolls his eyes, moving the phone to his other ear “--but now, calling them ‘girl’, I’m showing I want to be a friend, that I just simply want to connect. And then when you’re having your way with her, call her whatever the fuck you want as long as you finish the name with ‘girl’. Good girl. Dirty girl. Naughty girl. Sweet girl. Or in your case, hungry girl--”

Drake clears his throat, stifling a laugh. “--That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard--”

“Hey!” Leo interjects. “Who is wearing a bag of frozen peas on his one-eyed trouser snake?”

“Touché,” Drake sighs. “So, where are you right now?”

“With Jason up at his shop.”

“Who?” Drake lets out yawn, looking at his bedside alarm clock.

“Shit, Walker, you really were fucked up last night," Leo sighs. "Jason. You met him last night.” Leo’s voice lowers into a whisper. “He helped you get fucked up last night.”

“Oh! Right, right,” Drake rubs his head, “that was--wow, that shit was--”

“Good, right?” Leo finishes. “Hey, come join us at his shop. We’ve got coffee, and he’s got some new, um, product he’d love to show you--”

“Oh, Leo, I don’t know--” Drake removes the melting bag of vegetables from his lap. Gently lifting up on the waistband of his boxers, carefully inspecting his bruised parts.

“Does Liam have you working today?”

“No, no, it’s not that--” Drake hesitates.

“Oh!” Leo knowingly exclaims. “Does Riley have you working today?” He begins to chuckle. “You might need to let her know that you’re currently indisposed for --”

“Leo--” Drake warns.

“Then what's the hold up?"

Drake glances over at the mirror affixed to his antique dresser, but he doesn't recognize his own reflection. There's an emptiness in eyes, an inexplicable turmoil overcoming the man he once was. How did everything get so complicated? How did he get to such a place that it's better to be absent in life than to live it?

She was just a friend--at least that's what he convinced himself when Riley Brooks first caught his eye. Beautiful. Extremely witty with a fight he had never seen before. When they first kissed, he swore it was a mistake. Hormones. It had been so long since he had touched the delicate petals of a woman's lips.

But, this wasn't just any woman. It was her. And he soon would find himself wrapped up in her bedsheets, wrapped around her finger, wrapped in an awful web of lies.

And, all of his transgressions were against him, his very best friend, the man he regards as closer than a brother, his closest ally and confidant. Normally, Drake would turn to Liam in a heartbeat with any troubles, but this? How could he? How could he talk to Liam about his own devastation when the truth would devastate Liam?

It's been four days since that fateful night of Liam's coronation, four days since the love of Drake's life walked away from him, forcing his hand into harboring secrets from the crowned prince. It's been four days since Drake heard his own voice in his head, four days since he's been sober enough to even think. Even though he deemed the temporary escape necessary, the sudden twinge of discomfort in his groin makes him realize that taking another hit right now is the absolute last thing he needs.

"I think I better stay put," Drake answers, combing his fingers through his disheveled tresses.

"Suit yourself," Leo jovially retorts. "If you need any oxy for your boo-boo, hit me up--Oh, and Drake?"

“Hrmmm?”

"Her name is Whitney."

"What?"

"Jaws? You know, the bitch who chewed on your Moby Dick?" Drake sighs heavily, regretting that he ever told Leo what had happened. "Her name is Whitney."

Drake furrows his eyebrows. "Now, how do you remember her name--?"

"Oh, bro, you don't forget WAP Whitney--oh shit, you probably haven't gotten a good look at your sheets this morning, have you?"

With a grunt, Drake ends the call. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. He carefully gets up, waddling to grab his clothes before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

In the middle of splashing his face with cold, soapy water, Drake's phone rings. Grabbing a hand towel he carefully saunters back to his room, answering the call without hesitation. "Just let it go, Leo--”

"Drake?"

An icy chill shoots down Drake’s spine, freezing him in his steps. He knows that melodic voice anywhere, a voice that reminds him of early morning sunrises and late night silver moonlit paths. “H-hey, Riley,” he stutters, caught off guard. A brief awkward stillness falls over the conversation. “How are you--?”

“I miss you, Drake,” she interrupts.

Drake’s vision suddenly begins to spin as the air in the room becomes stagnant. Stiffening his bottom lip in anger, his breathing quickens as he reaches out carefully to brace himself against the wall.

“Drake?”

“I’m here,” he chokes out. “What do you want, Brooks?” He can hear the tears in her voice, but he wills himself not to care, he wills himself to not even ask.

“Drake, I think I made a mistake--”

“No,” Drake barks out, “no, you can’t do this to me--”

“Drake, please,” Riley sobs, “I’m on my way to the doctor--”

“The doctor?” Drake’s tone suddenly changes. “Are you okay? Is everything with--um, you know--” he slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand, “--okay?”

“Yes--” she sniffles, “--no. I just, I can’t do this alone, Drake. I can’t do this--”

“Riley--” he roughly says her name to grab her attention, “you made your decision: you chose Liam. You want to raise our baby--my baby with him--”

“Don’t you think I want to have this baby with you? That’s all I can even think about Drake,” she takes a moment to calm down her shaking voice. “I love you, Drake. I want a life with you. I want you to be there when this baby is born, when this baby needs his or her father--when this baby needs you--”

“Riley--” Drake exhales with frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, “--but Liam--”

“I know, Drake. I know--” Riley takes a deep breath, “Can we just talk? In person? Just so we can figure this out? I can come over there--”

“Brooks, I--” Drake stumbles over his words as he runs his fingers over his coarse, overgrown stubble. Of course, he wants her to come over. And to stay. But, has anything changed? Liam just proposed, and she made it clear what her intentions were. But, still, it’s possible she had a change of heart, and this was a second chance he may never get again. He sighs heavily. “Sure. Okay."

After finishing his impromptu conversation with Riley, Drake realizes he needs to make another phone call. He scrolls through his call history, and clicks the green send button.

"Did you change your mind, Evander Holyfield?"

"Funny, Leo," Drake sarcastically responds. "So, yeah, um, what's the address to the shop?"

***

“Does that--does that say what I think it says?” Margot nervously stammers. "I think I saw my score--oh gosh!"

“Here. Let me look--”

Margot quickly covers the computer screen with her hands, "No, Mrs. Iris!” Margot squeals. “I’m not ready--I’m not ready for this!”

“Child, you have been ready for this for months. Now, if you don’t get your hands out of the way--"

"What's with all the commotion?" A few technicians and nurses pile into the room, each giving an endearing rub to Margot’s back. Everyone begins craning their necks to see the computer, covered by Margot's arms. "Is it time? Have they posted the scores?"

"They sure have!" answers Iris before turning to Margot. She tucks several blonde wisps behind Margot’s ear before putting her finger under her chin. "C'mon, baby," she smiles encouragingly, "it's more fun celebrating than worrying."

"I'm--" Margot takes a deep breath, biting back her tears, "--I'm so scared--"

"--and the Lord knew you would be, baby." Iris wrinkles her nose at Margot, her voice becoming stronger. "That's why He called you to be courageous. C'mon."

Margot bites her lip, slowly nodding her head. Feeling the storm brew in her eyes as the weight of the world sits on her chest, she carefully peels back her hands. Her eyes scale the black and white on the screen, but nothing seems to make sense. A burst of silence overwhelms her hearing, time standing perfectly still. Her only company is the beating of her heart.

Take my anxieties...

You have nothing to worry about…

Your will be done…

Be courageous...

Like suddenly breaking through the surface for air, an abrupt roar of cheers fill the room, shaking Margot from her trance. "Our baby girl got a 519!" screams a tearful Iris, pulling Margot from her seat and into a tight embrace. Other coworkers join in, creating a giant group hug.

Margot remains speechless, shocked by her score. She always knew she was an excellent student, studying hard all through school and excelling in her classes. When it came to the MCAT, she was confident she would score better than average, a score of 500. But, to even be noticed by top medical schools, she needed to score in the top 5%, a score 517 or greater.

News swept like wildfire through the clinic, and shortly thereafter, Tadd and some other technicians filed into the breakroom with a decorative chocolate cake and punch in tow. "I knew you could do it!" Tadd cheers victoriously, offering a chaste hug to Margot. "Dr. Hughes," he swipes his hand in the air as if to paint an imaginary portrait. "It has a nice ring to it."

"I still don't understand why you put yourself through all of that," mentions an older phlebotomist. "Cordonia has a medical school right down the road--"

"Because Margot wants to go to one of the best medical schools in the world," interrupts a deeply demanding, yet sincere voice. “To Harvard. Like me.”

"Dr. Ramirez," Margot smiles brightly, jumping up to greet her mentor with a hug.

"That is, you are still looking at my alma mater for medical school--"

"Yes ma'am!" Margot's eyes light up with the thought that her dream of going to Harvard Medical School is becoming her reality. "It would be such an honor to go there, let alone to follow in your footsteps."

Dr. Ramirez pulls Margot in for another tight hug. "My word, Mary-Margaret, 519?" she presses her cheek to Margot's, "I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, Dr. Ramirez," Margot warmly responds, "thank you for taking a chance on me and helping me so much with my studies and research--"

"You know I did that for selfish reasons, right?" The practitioner stifles a smile while Margot squints her eyes with suspicion. "Cordonia needs more female physicians, and more importantly, physicians that will make a difference in its healthcare," she grips tightly to Margot’s hand, "for everyone. I believe you will lead this country in a health care reformation."

"I don't know what to say," Margot clears her throat as she fights back the tears. "I hope I make you proud--"

"You already do." Dr. Ramirez gently touches Margot's cheek lovingly before turning to exit the room.

"Oh!" Margot quickly chases after the obstetrician, “can I talk to you? Privately?” With a nod, Dr. Ramirez leads Margot into a quiet corner. “I know my work-study ends in two weeks--”

“I know. Don’t remind me, Margot--”

“Well, I was wondering,” Margot chews on the side of her mouth, fidgeting with her fingers, “if by any chance I could possibly stay on?”

“Oh, Margot, I wish I could. Unfortunately with budget cuts--”

Margot shakes her head. “No, no, Dr. Ramirez, I meant if I could stay on, shadowing my usual Monday and Thursday mornings, I mean, if that’s alright. Learn more? Keep up my skills?”

“You want to continue volunteering with us?” The doctor gives an inquisitive look. “Don’t you want to get a job to earn money before you move to the states next year?”

“I already got that covered,” Margot assuredly answers. “I just got a job at Bríki, the coffee shop past the square--”

“Oh my gosh,” Dr. Ramirez’s eyes light up. “Does Aleksi still own that place?”

“Mr. Pavlis? Yes! Him and his son run it together, I believe--”

“They have the best coffee,” she energetically smiles, “now I have another reason to stop by.” She kindly places her hand on Margot’s shoulder. “Of course, you can stay on as a volunteer. Whenever you want, however much you want. It is a pleasure to have you around.” With a squeeze of her arm, Dr. Ramirez turns to go to her next appointment, but stops halfway down the hall. “Oh, Margot? My nurse stepped away to make an important phone call. Do you mind escorting my next patient to the exam room?”

Margot dutifully nods with a grin. She twirls around, bounding for the front desk to grab the chart of Dr. Ramirez’s next patient, a new patient. After making a few small notes, Margot opens the door to call her back.

“Brooks? Riley Brooks?”

*****

Tags: (this is my original tag list for this series; if you wanted to be added or removed, please let me know!) @alyssalauren @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovingchoices14 @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @sweatyrysconnoisseur @taniasethi @tessa-liam @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @thegreentwin @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

[hannie-dul-set]

US, AGAIN | four.

SUMMARY. they say history repeats itself, but you’d like to disagree. you had to disagree. history changes, even if you had to force it. but when all your attempts to twist fate were met by nothing but the flashing recurrences of the past, what were you supposed to do?

or, wherein you try everything in your power to have nothing to do with na jaemin, but na jaemin wants nothing but you.

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader GENRE. college! au, historical! au, soulmate! au, past lives, forbidden love stuff, reincarnation, romance, drama, humor, angst, fluff, looots of flashbacks, this is an entire kdrama, very loosely inspired by the webtoon “see you in my 19th life” WARNINGS. (for this chapter only) swearing, night terrors, hospital mentions, passing out, the works hgdhjasf WORD COUNT. 5.1k

NOTE. I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG <///3 but life is life thank god we only have to go through this once unlike our dearest mc HJGASDJSF anyway!! lots of jaemin fluff here!! you’ll want to punch him in the face!! hope u enjoy <3

CHAPTER FOUR: why the sun sets and rises

(Running.

Through the winding branches that cut into the air, the silver lake, the jagged ground, the clouds in the wind at each and every shallow pant, you were running—

A gunshot.

—running until your legs gave away.)

You woke up in a cold sweat.

God.

Looking around, you noticed that it was far too early for you to be awake— the hazy light that barely slipped through the thin curtains, the desolate silence that seemed to have consumed your room whole, and the bedside digital clock down below you that said 6:21AM in big bold letters, indicating that you should be fast asleep especially after staying up at ungodly hours in the morning finishing up an assignment. But even after burying your head in between two of your pillows, you couldn’t even suffocate yourself into unconsciousness.

You groaned and jumped off of the top bunk.

When your feet landed on the floor, you had expected to see Seungah’s ghost of a face lying sideways on the bottom bunk, but all that met you was a small, neon orange sticky note laying soundly on her smoothed out pillow. ‘Had to leave early to the diner! Eat the breakfast I made you or else xoxo’, it said. You sighed.

There was no point mulling over the past when you had an entire future to take care of.

“Oh my gosh.”

Hong Nabi was in shock with what she saw when she arrived at the benches by the garden to work on your group assignment today. It was shocking to the point that she dropped all her binders and papers onto the pavement.

You sighed, sliding out of your seat to help her. She spared you a few, quick glances as the both of you were slouched on the floor, and he couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip in worry. The Y/N that was usually so cool, so put together, and so unbothered looked like she was casket ready. That, or ready to star in a Tim Burton animation.

“Is it Halloween today..?”

“Let’s just get this thing started,” you groaned, finally finished cleaning things up and you were now back onto your seat. Nabi sat right in front of you, organizing her now jumbled up material. She wanted to ask if you were okay— but would that be offensive considering that you were very clearly not? Still, she opened her mouth to speak, but was scared into silence when you suddenly cursed out loud. “Since when did this become a paired project? Where the hell are they?”

Nabi pressed her lips together, looking around. “I’m not sure.”

You still had around two weeks more until the presentation, but that didn’t mean that they could slack off as much as they wanted. In a fit, you grabbed your phone from your sling bag, exasperatedly tapping on the fragile screen that Nabi was almost sure that you were going to break it, but before you managed to burst a vein, an incoming sound of noises and laughter approached your ears.

Boys will be boys, but you weren’t having any of that shit.

“Yah,” the moment Jeno, Renjun, and Donghyuck showed up at your table as if nothing was wrong, you decided to smack the nearest head with a rolled up sheet of stapled paper. “Didn’t we agree to start at nine?”

“Yah,” Donghyuck snatched the weapon from you, his other hand focused on caressing the spot on his head that you’d just every so gently smacked. “Don’t you ‘yah yah’ me, missy. Did you forget that you’re younger than us?”

If only he knew.

“Is that so? You should grow a sense of responsibility, then. It doesn’t take fifty fucking years.”

With that, you let out a huff and swung your laptop open.

The rest of the people occupying the table exchanged concerned glances as they shuffled to find seats of their own. They haven’t known you for long, but this type of temperament from you was arguably out of the ordinary. Even when Donghyuck would strike a chord too dangerously, you wouldn’t snap at him— today, you weren’t your usual self, and they all mutually agreed in silence that they were going to tread carefully if they still wanted their heads attached to their necks.

When the sounds of your fingers clicking against the keyboard stopped, they felt their hearts stopping, as well.

You looked up from the laptop screen, proceeding to look around, closed your eyes, and then breathed out. “Where’s Jaemin?”

At that moment they all flipped their phones open, scrolling, clicking, and typing before they can taste any more of your unraveled temper. You had to admit, you were feeling a little guilty for being such a bitch. A part of it was yes, sleep deprivation, shitty nightmares, and a whole truck load of stress can really take a toll on your sanity, but the other part was voluntary.

Jeno looked up, the first person who managed to pinpoint Jaemin’s whereabouts. “He just texted. He says he’s running— oh, there he is.”

There he was indeed, a couple of feet away from where you all were. Once you confirmed that he wasn’t absent, you turned back to continue working, but the rest of them continued to stare at Jaemin, who was barely hanging onto his dear life, sweating and panting. And as they all watched the poor boy breathlessly running towards the table, they all thought of the same thing with one mind, heart, and soul.

Na Jaemin was a dead man.

He pulled up right in front of you, hunched over breathless with his hands on his knees. He stood up and promptly apologized. “Ahh, so sorry for being late. I had to stop by somewhere and there was traffic. I’m really—”

“I didn’t ask about your personal business,” you hummed, not even looking at him. Everyone, not only Jaemin, flinched at your explicit coldness. “Did you get the files that we need?”

He looked at you. You weren’t looking at him, but you knew he was looking at you.

“...Yeah. Hold on.”

As if the mood wasn’t already shit earlier, it actually turned into absolute horse crap after Jaemin arrived. It wasn’t his fault, really, but circumstance after circumstance didn’t exactly paint the prettiest picture of him. When the clock finally struck eleven in the morning, everyone except you all released a synchronous sigh. “We’re done today, right?” Renjun asked, and you responded with a quick nod, noticeably a lot more mellow than earlier.

Nabi stood up and started fixing her things. “I’ll send everything later to you tonight, Y/N,” she smiled at you.

“Yeah, sure,”’ you hummed, nodding. “Thank you.”

The four boys froze. Why were you being nice to her? Of course, their complaints were verbalized into nothing more than silent whines, groans, and grumbles that easily flew above your ears, Jaemin being a lot more quiet about voicing his complaints than the rest despite taking most of your attacks.

Still, even if you were being particularly thorny to him, he thought it would be a good idea to speak out just as you were about to leave. “Do the both of you have any classes after this? We were planning on getting lunch together,” he said. “Would you like to join? My treat.”

You looked at him. There was a polite smile on your face. Evidently forced.

“No, thanks.”

Donghyuck let out a genuine gasp.

“Did she just—” he stammered, switching his sight back and forth from Jaemin to you. “Did she just turn down a free meal offer?”

“She did,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as he continued to gawk at you. You picked up your heavy bag from the bench seat. “I gotta get going. Have fun, you guys.”

And you let them just like that, with five pairs of eyes trained at the back of your head until they finally lost sight of you.

For someone like you, the bulletin boards at the bus stops were like a gold mine. A gold mine of part-time jobs just waiting to be filled. There were flyers haphazardly plastered onto the board, all in different colors and different fonts. You bit a chunk off of the granola bar that served as your lunch for today, eyes meticulously scanning the available offers, a few flyers already wedged in between your armpit.

“Hair salon assistant— can’t do that. Diner waitress— a hard maybe. Already have a restaurant job pending, my shifts might clash. Library assistant? Alright, I need to check it out further, though. What about a movie— oh!— oh my god, you scared me.”

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

Sooah suddenly appeared beside you, looking up as she clutched her backpack straps. You let out a sigh of relief upon the realization that it was just her.

“Fancy seeing you here, cadet,” you hummed, folding the neatly folding the few flyers that you had and shoving into your sling bag along with the emptied granola bar wrapper. “Are your classes over?”

“Mhm! I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up.”

“Aren’t you honored to spend time with me as you wait?”

You let out a chuckle, sitting down on the wooden seat, patting down the empty spot beside you, and Sooah happily hopped to sit down right away. Peeling off one of the flyers stuck onto the board, you decided to fold it— once, twice, countless more times until the flat, square piece of paper was now shaped into a lotus flower. Sooah beamed in amazement.

“Y/N,” she started, and you dropped the little paper flower onto her tiny hands. She placed it on her lap before looking up to you, large eyes hinted with curiosity. “The story you told us last time— was it a true story?”

You suddenly felt a chill in the air.

“...Why do you ask?”

“Oh, well,” she mused. “My mommy is a Korean Literature teacher at my school, but she teaches a grade above me. Sometimes, I’d go through her stuff to read some stories that I haven’t read in my class, and the other day—”

Uh oh.

After living for twelve whole lifetimes and currently going through your thirteenth, there was always this feeling that haunted you all throughout, a feeling that you were all too familiar with. It was gnawing, grinding, and chewing up the bottom most part of your gut. A warning sign for something bad to come.

You were definitely feeling that right now.

“—I found the same story as the one you told us, big sis.”

Yep. It was never wrong, and it never will be. You bit down your bottom lip.

“And I found something interesting!” oh, how much more must anxiety drown you, but Sooah seemed so excited that you didn’t have the heart to stop her. You raised a brow, urging her, and she smiled brightly. “You said you don’t remember the girl’s name, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Y/N! She has the same name as you!”

Of fucking course.

“The last name is different, though—” she added as an afterthought. “She was Song Y/N, and you’re not. Still. Isn’t it really cool?”

Not cool at all. You wanted to scream, maybe cry a little and lose a generous chunk of your mind, because as far as you knew, there had never been an instance where you had heard of this story being shared to the public— to an entire class, nonetheless. It shouldn’t matter, right? It wasn’t your life anymore. Just an old, tragic tale passed on from mothers to their children as a bedtime story.

But somehow, it made you feel vulnerable.

How many more people knew about this?

“But, sis. You’re kind of a dummy, though. How could you forget someone’s name when it’s the same as yours?”

Sooah questioned, tilting her head, but it eventually washed pon her that you weren’t looking all too well. You had your lips splayed into an evident frown, worry creasing your forehead, which she could not at all get. Were you okay?

“Did you finish reading all of it?”

You asked after a bout of silence. Sooah shook her head in response. “No, not yet,” she huffed. “My mom caught me making a mess out of her things and scolded me.”

That’s good, you thought. At least she didn’t make it to the end— that would only complicate things. After a second of deliberation, you figured that this would be the best move if you played your cards right.

“Sooah,” you started. “Do you think your mom will let me borrow that story?”

The next day, your classes were all condensed into the afternoon— a deliberate decision to allow yourself to recharge in bed for the entire first half of the day.

But right now it was eight in the morning, yet you were already busying yourself inside the campus.

No, you didn’t have a group meeting today, neither did you have any prior commitments needed to be accomplished here in school, but you figured after not having a single fucking blink of sleep last night thanks to Sooah’s revelations yesterday, you might as well head to school early to apply for the part-time job at the library. Only one problem— where was the library?

It was eight in the morning. You had been here since seven-thirty. Not a single bookshelf in sight. You opted to just give up and mold yourself into the floor because you couldn’t even ask anyone for directions because no one was there.

Well. Almost no one.

You had just passed by a single living soul earlier as you were trudging around the bottom floor like a zombie, but you completely missed him. Na Jaemin caught your disheveled figure marching through the hallways earlier, evidently lost, as he left the faculty office with a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hands. He immediately brightened upon seeing you— as if his bloodstream was directly charged with caffeine, but he didn’t come around to approaching you until now. He couldn’t get the timing.

Even now, as he discreetly tailed behind you without your knowledge, he didn’t know when was the appropriate time to give you a simple ‘hello’. He pressed his lips together, taking in a sharp breath through his nose, and decided screw it— you wouldn’t even be happy to see him no matter the timing.

He picked up his pace and sounded from right behind you.

“Morning, group leader.”

You stopped, swiveling your heels around, and he was met with your grimacing face.

As expected. He gave you a blinding smile.

“How are you?”

“My morning is shit, thank you very much,” you spat. “Even more now, after seeing you.”

Ouch.

Jaemin knew that you weren’t exactly fond of him, and he’d spent too many hours wondering why. Maybe you just disliked him without bearing much of a reason. Some people were like that, but he didn’t hold it against you. He still pressed on with a smile.

And it irritated you.

(You believed that it was irritation, or made yourself believe. Yeah, let’s go with irritation.)

“Now, what do you want?” you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg as you looked at him with exasperation. “You’re definitely not here to ask me about our assignment, right? I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I might as well say it to your face for your own good.”

You roughly shoved a finger to his chest, mustering up not a glare— but a plain look of disinterest.

“I don’t like you.”

Jaemin simply looked at you.

“You don’t like me.”

“No matter what you try to do, that won’t ever—wait, what? What the fuck?” you had to double take, expression suddenly morphing into a comical confusion, which Jaemin found cute, but of course he couldn’t say that out loud. He settled with the same smile as earlier, which you found a little more irritating as much as it was conflicting this time around. Within a second of silence, you felt heat slowly rising and you felt it slowly getting to your head. “You’re just gonna take that...as that?”

He let out a hum, shrugging. “I can’t dictate how you feel, can I?”

You gawked at him.

“You’re not even gonna ask why? Not even gonna protest?”

“Do you want me to?” he leaned forward, face a little closer to yours, smile a little more irritating than before, the heat growing a little more prominent than ever, your grasp on your consciousness becoming a little more hard to hold than earlier. You felt yourself getting caught in a stammer. “I would, if you want me to.”

Fuck this shit and fuck it completely.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business,” you stormed off before you could find yourself getting caught inside a heatwave, breathing out long, fervent breaths to calm yourself down, the dizzying heat slowly getting to your head making you woozy. It would be a bad idea to even turn around and look at him. “I’d appreciate it if you don't follow me.”

Jaemin frowned when he saw your back yet again. He felt like this was the only thing he’d seen from you— your back perpetually facing him without any hope of you even turning around to spare him a quick glance, but he didn’t want to go against your wishes. He wasn’t planning on following you. But when you suddenly collapse on the floor a few feet away from him—

Thud.

—what else was he supposed to do?

(“Your Highness.”

It was without question that he’d answer your call sparing not even a second to waste with those gentle eyes of his, and this time was no different. The only difference being the quirk of his lips— pursed, pouting. He stepped away from the bush of azaleas, and stepped closer to you.

“I thought I told you not to call me that anymore,” he huffed, languidly dropping beside you on the stone bench, taking your hands into his with an earnest glimmer. “Say it. I want to hear you. Please?”

It was impolite to laugh at the prince— a punishable crime by itself. You were fortunate that he liked you enough.

“Your Highness,” you hummed. His shoulders drooped down, visibly dampening, but he shook his head with a newfound resolve and instead lended all of his attention to you, instead. “It is without saying that the very breath you take is incomparable to any person on this land—”

Your gaze darted upwards, looking at him.

“—but why do you choose to come see me everyday in the garden? Even when I am not around?”

He was still for a moment, fazed and the littlest bit taken aback, but not a second too long for you to spare any worry. A newfound smile playing on his lips, he lifted up your hands that he was holding, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west every single day?”

He looked at you, continuing.

“Just because it was made that way.”)

“Daegang.”

The whisper that you sounded in your state of unconsciousness caught Jaemin’s ears as he carried you to a vacant room inside the campus hospital. He looked down at you, your voice as clear as day despite the hoarseness of it, peeling himself away from your closed eyes, lashes fluttering above your cheeks before he could stumble over his own feet.

When he gently dropped you on to the bed, the mattress sinking underneath your weight, his windpipes nearly closed, a choking noise escaping the moment he felt you tug him down by the sleeve of his shirt, but he maintained his composure. He dropped your sling bag onto the bedside table, taking notice on the colorful piece of paper peeking out of the bag’s zipper mouth, a huff of a smile when he closed it up. Even you can be a little disordered, sometimes, he wondered in amusement as he gazed down on you.

Jaemin let out a huff of breath, dropping down the chair placed beside your bed, and he pulled out his phone to send a few messages here and there. An hour passed. He noticed you stirring underneath the sheets.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. You couldn’t tell if the blurred out silhouette of the face you have grown to both hate and love was a mere figment of your memories, or if he was actually real. There was the temptation brought about by your disorientation— to stretch your arm out to his face just to make sure, but you were lucky that your flimsy consciousness came at just the right time before you were to do anything regretful.

“Ugh.”

“You’ve been out for over an hour. Maybe you should just skip your remaining classes today,” at that point you were sure he was real. Na Jaemin had worry laced all over his voice, expression, and posture. It wasn’t a sight welcome to your peace of mind when you had just woken up after passing the fuck out. “What happened? Did you not get enough sleep? Did you skip breakfast? I asked Jeno to buy some food just in case you wake up and I’m not here, but you were unconscious for longer than I expected.”

“I’m fine, I’ll just—”

A regretful action. You tried to stand up, but all that happened was you falling pathetically back onto the bed.

“...”

“Don’t push yourself, Y/N,” Jaemin sighed, tucking you back in and placing a hand on your forehead, and by god you could hear the alarm bells ringing in your ears. “I checked earlier. It doesn’t seem like you have a fever. Oh? You’re starting to heat up, maybe you actually do—”

“I don’t!”

Was it possible to voluntarily pass out?

You threw the blanket over your head.

It was fortunate that he didn’t decide to press on, and instead he just left you alone underneath your makeshift tent to calm the sudden blazing of your face. Did he know that you were embarrassed? Oh god, did he know that it was because of him? Not that it was, of course, but it wasn’t unlikely for him to assume that he was the cause of your sudden temperature rise. It would be much better for him to believe that you did have a fever. Fuck, you should have just told him that you were sick.

“Knock knock,” outside of your blanket shield, you felt something lightly pressed at the side of your head, prompting you to peek outside, just enough for your eyes to be exposed. When you turned around, you were met by a box of Orion Choco Pie, just one of the few snacks that he had brought for you. “Here, have this. Eat.”

You blankly stared at the red box.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Leave it. I’ll eat once you leave.”

“No can do, missy,” Jaemin clicked his tongue, and without your consent, grabbed your nearest hand and opened it into a palm, placing the far too large box on top of it. “I have to make sure that you actually finish it.”

He was resilient.

Much like someone else, you grumbled, opening the packaging and stealing one of the cakes nestled inside. He had a satisfied smile on his face— almost like a proud parent watching his four year old daughter writing her name for the first time. You wanted to throw the damned snack to his face, but voted against the act and took a bite from it instead. “Fine. But for your information, I might have passed out because I barely got any sleep last night, so stop wasting your worries.”

“That doesn’t make things any better,” he said. “How am I supposed to stop worrying after hearing that? You should take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“I’m not buying it. I have to make sure that you’re getting enough sleep every day.”

“What the fuck? Do you think you’re my mom, or something?”

“No, what the hell? Don’t make things weird,” He grimaced, looking at you in disbelief. Holy fuck. You nearly broke out into a fit, if you were being honest. Na Jaemin who was usually all smiley and kind was looking at you with an expression that you were sure his facial muscles didn’t even have the knowledge to conjure. His next words were nothing more than a low grumble. “How can she think I want to be her mom when I like her? Jeez.”

The choco pie that you’d been eating threatened to climb back up your throat.

“Wh— What the fuck?”

“What?” Jaemin replied naively. “One more time? Should I repeat it? Y/N, I like—”

“Okay, okay, I got it the first time, please—!”

Dear lord, he was going to be the death of you. You took in a long, sharp, painful breath.

“I get it.”

Jaemin looked at you with a small smile. He didn’t seem like he was going to continue teasing, so you quickly scared down the remaining chocolate snake inside the box so that you could slip away from him as soon as possible. That wasn’t the best idea, though, because the choco pie almost ended up going down the wrong throat and the guy was sure to freak out over it. Luckily you managed to get away with forcing it down and having Jaemin only looking at you with a minimal amount of concern.

It was time to get the fuck out of here.

“Thank you for the food, Jaemin, but I need to get going,” he didn’t even get the chance to say anything, but you were already on your feet, ready to set out to the door. You looked back at his frozen stature before reaching out for the door handle. “I’ll pay you back some other time.”

You bowed politely. Jaemin had only gotten back to his senses once he’d realized that he couldn’t see your face anymore, only the back of your head— a sight that he’s used to seeing, a reminder of where he stood. He scrambled to his feet and took off after you.

“Wait, you should drink water first! And take these with you! Y/N—”

Shit. He didn’t want you to leave yet. Not when he’s finally had a proper conversation with you. The two of you were already out in the hallway, the glimpse of light from the heavily clouded sky leaking through the windows and coloring the white walls and floor with an out of place brightness and at one point the light stuck on you. It was difficult to match your pace— staying not too far behind, not right beside you, never ahead of you. He swallowed.

Jaemin felt bad about pulling this, but he couldn’t think of any other way to make you stay.

“Daegang.”

You froze on the spot.

There was a heavy weight anchoring Jaemin’s conscience, falling even heavier as you slowly turned around to face him. It fell to the bottom of his stomach the moment he caught your expression.

“How—” you stammered. “Where did you get that name?”

He pressed his lips together tightly, a considerable distance between the both of you as he averted his eyes. “You muttered it earlier while I was carrying you.”

“C—carrying?”

How else would he have hauled you over to the campus hospital? But an obvious fact such as that was still enough to dumb your IQ a couple of notches down. You would have been fine if he didn’t mention it and leave you in your blissful ignorance, but he just had to drill the existence of that fact that you were in his fucking arms when you had sworn to be a piece of shit to him.

The heat was rising to your head again just like earlier.

“Ah.”

You heard Jaemin utter a sound from a few steps in front of you— a light grumble, you’d assumed, but you weren’t entirely sure— and it was at that moment that you’d realized how freaking awkward the distance between the both of you was. Were you social distancing?

His hollow sigh and evident pout threw all of those meager thoughts out the window.

“Is he the reason why I can’t get close to you?

What the hell does he mean?

“An ex you can’t over?”

You broke into a coughing fit. Jaemin instantly ran over to you in panic, patting your back to help appease the violent coughs, but in reality he wasn’t of any help at all because his palm was barely touching you. “Holy fuck”—cough—“oh god. I guess— I guess you can say that...?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled from behind you. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It must be a sensitive topic.”

“If you knew that it was touchy then why bring it up in the first place,” you shot him a glare, looking back, but it was less threatening and more questioning. You couldn’t bring yourself to get mad at him at this point. He stood there in blatant guilt, his expression, stature, and demeanor without any intention of hiding it all. This was why you couldn’t get mad at him. Jaemin was transparent.

You weren’t sure if it was just his nature or if it had something to do with you.

You wouldn’t know what to do if it was the latter.

His lips finally parted after a moment of silence to answer you— even if you hadn’t expected an answer in the first place.

“I didn’t know how else to make you talk to me a little longer.”

You didn’t know what to do, at all.

Jaemin’s cheeks were stained with a shade of pink and fuck— you could see in his eyes that were looking at you, trying not to look at you, that he was bearing all the sleeves of his heart to you without an ounce of regret, but a euphemism of the bright red color that he was trying to hide.

God.

Why did you have to meet him in this life?

“Why?” you voiced, quiet. “Why do you like me so much? You don’t even know me that well, and I’m not even in any way nice to you.”

He didn’t answer.

“So, why?”

For a moment, Jaemin kept quiet, as if waiting for the pink to fade from his cheeks before doing anything, but it never did. Even when his lips stretched into a closed smile, his eyes crinkling and showing the stars that weren’t in the sky, he was still tinged with that soft, powdery color.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t wait for you to speak when he left— when he left right after saying two words that stretched inside your mind until the sun set in the west and the skies turned pink.

“Just because.”

<prev | MASTERLIST | next>

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© hannie-dul-set, 2021

[ravena-wrote]

Bonded

Harry/Draco, Pansy/Hermione

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35392933/chapters/88219483

Summary: Harry gets assigned the most boring Auror case in the world with the most horrible partner. Featuring a certain blonde nemesis, ancient magic bonds, a dragon, and a little too much Pansy/Hermione love (in Harry’s opinion).

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

He wakes up to Draco standing over him wide eyed in terror.

“You have to be okay Potter, I can't lose my job over you,” Draco rushes.

Harry blinks blurry-eyed and realizes that his head is pounding with a sharp piercing pain. When he puts a hand to his forehead it comes away sticky with blood.

“Uh what happened?” He manages dazedly staring at Draco’s blonde hair. When he wears it down like this it looks like a halo. In fact as the sun falls through the window and onto Draco’s face he looks like an angel.

“Has anyone ever told you your hair looks like a halo in the sunlight?” He asks blearily, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“Um no.” Draco looks distracted, touching his hair briefly before the panic returns to his eyes. “We fell onto my desk, your head hit the corner of the desk, it split your scar open, and then you blacked out. I’m sorry.” He rushes like he’s forcing it out “I get carried away when I haven’t slept enough.”

“Lack of sleep isn’t an excuse to shove people into desks.” Harry responds grouchily, secretly pleased at the apology.

“Well I didn’t start it, you punched me first.” Draco’s voice is haughty and Harry is certain if it didn’t hurt to keep his eyes open he would see Draco sticking his nose into the air and making a very aristocratic face.

“I only punched you because you were being an asshole.” Harry growls the pain in his head making it hard to think.

“I was simply stating the truth.” Draco says diplomatically, offering a hand to help Harry up. “But we can agree to disagree”

“Ugh you are insufferable.”

“Well you’re stuck with me so you’ll just have to suffer” Draco’s voice is markedly more cheerful. “Now how should we fix up your head?”

“You’re not doing anything to my head. I’m going home and having Hermione fix it because I trust her.” Harry says pointedly, glaring at Draco.

He steps out of the office and walks swiftly down the hall focusing firmly on the exit to the floos ignoring the entirety of the Auror Department as they stare quizzically at the blood dripping across his tanned skin.

~~~~~~~~~

Harry arrives home to find Hermione sitting at the dining table surrounded by notes and chatting animatedly to Pansy Parkinson.

“I’m sorry. I seem to have walked into some sort of horrific nightmare.” He says making a horrible face at Pansy mind reeling. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Oh dear,” Hermione says flatly without looking at him. “I must have forgot to tell you we’re working on a project together for work.”

“Yep we’re busy Potter, run along.” Pansy remarks coldly as she turns in her chair to look at him.

“Oh my god, what’s happened to your face!” At Pansy’s exclamation Hermione finally looks up and her gaze slides from calm and collected to frantic in a single instant.

“I thought Kingsley had given you a safe assignment for once!” She rushes towards him with her wand out. Repairing his injury with no warning she blindsides him with the stinging pain of his skin stitching together.

“Merlin's beard, Hermione. Give me a warning next time” He exclaims, clutching at his forehead.

“I would have thought Potter could handle a little bit of pain.” Pansy says smirking at him with cold eyes before suddenly freezing “Where’d you get that cut anyways, weren’t you with Draco? Is he okay?” Harry thinks he can see a bit of panic in her expression before she arranges it blank again. Interesting, maybe the Slytherins care a little more than they let off.

“He’s fine, don't worry. I just tripped”

“So you’re just as clumsy as you were in school then? Not surprised you didn’t grow up” Pansy remarks looking considerably more upbeat. She shoots Hermione a small smile and Harry is perplexed to see her smile back. He can’t believe this.

“Looks like a pretty bad fall.” Hermione says looking concerned again and Harry can see a telltale glimmer of suspicion behind her eyes.

“No really I slipped on a piece of paper and went down hard onto the marble floors” He winces to fully sell his story refusing to let slip that he’s fought with Malfoy. He doesn’t want to let Pansy gloat.

“I’ve been saying they should replace those floors for years.” Pansy whines. “They’d be disastrous in a high speed chase.”

“Oh? And how many high speed chases are taking place within the Ministry?” Harry scoffs, unable to restrain himself.

“You never know it could happen.” Hermione muses and Harry looks at her aghast. “I think it’s a good idea.” Harry can’t believe she’s siding with Pansy against him. Doesn’t she know they’re on opposite sides?

“Hermione, I think this could be helpful?” Pansy interjects as she offers Hermione a heavy leather tome pointing at the text inside.

Both of them turn back to their books and Harry stomps loudly out of the room to sulk until the room is free of Slytherins.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours later Harry’s stomach is rumbling and he feels weak with hunger. He figures Pansy’s left by now but when he walks down the stairs he finds her curled up on the couch next to Hermione laughing as Theo describes a quidditch malfunction in colorful detail. The room goes silent when he sees Harry.

“Why are you still here?” Harry says glaringly at Pansy.

“Because I, unlike you, seem to have grown up and realized that some of the people I used to hate are actually really cool and smart and surprisingly witty.” Pansy says looking across at Hermione as Hermione's cheeks pinken into a light blush. “Now I’m sorry I tried to give you over to the Dark Lord one time 6 years ago but I was scared and ignorant and I really think you should have gotten over it by now.”

“Well I can’t get over it!” Harry erupts, stalking towards the kitchen.

“Fine! Have a miserable night while we hang out and enjoy ourselves if that's really what you want.” Pansy calls after him prissily.

Harry sulks in the kitchen for a while making a cold and disappointing sandwich. He sits stewing for a bit on the kitchen floor before stealing himself to walk back into the sitting room. When he arrives Neville and Ginny are perched on the other sofa so he settles himself on the ground leaning back against Ginny’s legs.

“I see you’ve returned Potter.” Says Pansy, reminding him of Draco as she sticks her nose up in the air. “That sandwich really does look horrible”

“I know” Defeated Harry picks at his sandwich hoping it’ll magically become delicious. “We don’t really have groceries this week I think someone” he looks pointedly at Theo “Forgot to put in the order.”

Theo holds his hands up “I said I was sorry, I have a horrible memory and no one reminded me.”

“Maybe write yourself a note or something. Theodore it’s not that hard.” Ginny smirks, hitting him lightly over the head with one of the auror case’s Harry’s left sitting around. He really shouldn’t do that, confidential information and all.

“Ugh I am starving” Theo speaks looking wistful.

“Bet you wish you'd remembered the groceries now.” Hermione responds demurely.

“What if we get takeout?” Pansy offers and its the most helpful thing Harry’s ever witnessed come out of her mouth. The room slowly becomes a circle of grins.

“Fantastic idea! What are we getting?” Theo’s face is awash with relief.

“Indian!” Harry and Pansy say at the exact same time before glaring at each other.

“My aunt owns a restaurant pretty close to here” Pansy offers. “I promise it’s very good.”

They end up ordering a vast amount of food from the restaurant. As they eat, Harry warms up to Pansy a bit. Sure, she has a cold cruel exterior much like Draco but once he realizes that most of the time her cutting remarks are meant to be funny he starts to enjoy chatting with her. They compare favorite dishes and Pansy tells him about visiting family in India during the summers of her youth. Harry knows little about India except that his dad’s family is from there and he starts to enjoy Pansy’s stories full of colorful characters and interesting experiences. It makes him want to travel more.

The meal wraps up quicker than he expected. The room becomes quiet as people get up and place their dishes in the kitchen wandering off to their respective activities. Pansy returns both her and Hermione’s plates to the kitchen before graciously thanking Hermione for having her and vanishing into the fireplace. Harry finds himself wondering when he’ll see her again.

“So what kind of project are you two working on?” Harry asks turns towards Hermione.

“It’s confidential obviously” Hermione responds, twirling her hair around a finger and staring off into the distance. “Pansy’s really changed hasn’t she?”

“I guess.” Harry says grudgingly watching as Hermione starts to smile.

“You’ll warm up to her in time. You already seemed to enjoy talking with her.”

“Ugh does that mean I’ll be seeing more of her?”

“You might be, '' Hermione smirks mysteriously, still watching the fireplace that Pansy had disappeared into.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Harry arrives at Draco’s office to see him frantically tearing the roof off of his cardboard model. He looks like he’s slept but his hair is disheveled like he’s been tearing at it.

“Um, are you alright?” Harry says cautiously, stepping into the room.

“Not in the slightest,” Draco says, looking harried and carrying on with his demolition.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Harry, do you know what it feels like to have to start from ground zero?” Draco asks conversationally, eyes darting back and forth across the room.

“I would think so, we did both go through a war and start over.” Harry says gently crouching at Draco’s side and looking worried.

“Well that’s nothing compared to this” Draco scoffs. “You want to know why Harry?The blueprints were wrong.” Draco is making an extremely devastated face.

Harry attempts to make his face calm and soothing “Um why is this such a big deal?” His voice comes out a bit high pitched as Draco fixes him with an icy glare.

“You don’t understand anything Potter.” Draco says dramatically, throwing ripped cardboard at the wall behind Harry's head. Harry flinches and moves himself out of danger.

“I must restart my masterpiece.” He gestures at the demolished building before him. “The Ministry has tunnels. Tunnels Potter.” He sounds a bit hysterical. Harry wonders how much caffeine he’s had this morning.

“Um alright, should we maybe check the tunnels for the pickpocket today?” Harry speaks in an attempt to cheer Draco up.

“Great idea.” Draco says, looking surprisingly cheerful. “Observing the tunnels will give me a better opportunity to recreate them properly in my model.” He sounds quite a bit more interested in finishing his model than catching the criminal and Harry can’t blame him. After all this is the most boring case ever.

“So where do the tunnels start?”

“Behind the statue in the lobby obviously.” Draco scoffs, picking a book and waving it in Harry’s direction. “It’s all laid out very clearly.”

Draco proceeds to show Harry the book which is not in fact laid out very clearly at all. There is a half page dedicated to a very small map of the tunnel system which has faded away in some places since the book is very old.

“This is not laid out very clearly,” Harry says glaring across at Draco. Draco’s eyes seem way more grey than they used to be in school he muses before realizing he’s been glaring a bit too long and looks quickly away.

“I was trying to make you more comfortable.” There is a toothy grin stretching across Draco’s face.

“Why would I need to be comfortable? And why are you smiling at me like that?” Harry says suddenly suspicious.

The grin drops off of Draco’s face and he looks sullenly down at the book. “I thought you might have reservations about exploring with a Death Eater.” He mumbles.

“Come off it Malfoy, you’ve had two entire days to kill me I would have thought you’d gotten it over with already”

“You’re right” Draco looks cheerfully into his eyes. “I’m really very impatient aren’t I? Let's get going then! As much as you’d like to, we can't sit around all day Potter '' He calls over his shoulder striding quickly out of the room.

Harry notices that his normally taunting tone has softened a bit to sound almost teasing. He grabs his cloak off the desks and runs out of the office to catch up with Draco in the hall.

When they reach the lobby it becomes increasingly clear that it will be difficult to slip behind the statute unnoticed. They stand around for a while looking for a break in the hustle and bustle around them. People start to look at them suspiciously and walk around them with a wide berth.

“Unfortunately it looks like we might have to stage an emergency to get everyone out of here.” Draco says grinning at Harry evilly.

“Shouldn’t there be a bunch of other entrances to the tunnels?”

“Well yes but the map wasn’t very clear about where they were” Draco looks shifty eyed.

“Hmm alright. I have an idea” Harry strides off back in the direction they came from and Draco scrambles to follow.

~~~~~~~~

They arrive back in the lobby wearing the invisibility cloak draped over them. Draco still hasn’t gotten over the unfairness of Harry having the cloak in the first place and is tiring himself out with a long rant about privileged people and power trips and how Dumbledore really wasn’t fit to run a school if he was going to favor students with dangerous artifacts.

Harry isn’t really listening. He’s distracted, pressed up so close to Draco’s body heat that he can feel it through his jumper. Draco smells fresh like lemongrass and fresh rain. Harry takes a deep breath and feels strangely comforted by the scent. He moves closer to Draco without realizing it until his hand brushes against Draco’s thigh and he stops mid sentence jerking his head up and staring into Harry’s eyes.

“Were you not listening to a single thing I said to Harry?” Draco asks but he stumbles over his words not quite managing the cold tone he usually aims for.

“Sorry not really, I was lost in thought.” Harry forces himself to move back a couple inches.

“Well you should really be paying attention on a mission. Really Potter this behavior is quite inappropriate.” This time Draco’s voice comes out normally, cold and cutting. Harry knows he should feel relieved but he feels his heart drop a bit in his chest.

“Here we are,” Draco gestures to a small button on the back of the marble statue. “After you Potter.”

Harry pushes the button and a panel slides back allowing them to squeeze through a narrow door shaped opening. Inside the tunnels are dark and cold. Harry can hear water dripping somewhere. He casts a luminos and waits for Draco to step through the opening behind him.

Draco joins him in the tunnel folding the cloak into a small square and crowding into Harry’s bodyspace to tuck it into the pocket of his auror robes. The warmth of his hand once again shocks Harry and he goes rigid for a second until Draco backs away.

“Well I’m not carrying your fancy magical object for you” Draco mumbles, refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry stares at him baffled for a second and then starts walking down the hall.

They haven’t walked more than 20 feet from the entrance when a metal wall comes clanging out of the ceiling on either side of them, sealing them into the tunnel. Then their wands flicker, tips going dim.

“This is so bad.” Harry growls pushing at the walls trying to find a weak spot.

“So bad.” Draco echos looking guiltily at metal in front of them.

They try a couple of spells but they come out weaker than normal and the walls refuse to budge.

“The book did say there were some places where the tunnels were resistant to magic.” Draco admits avoiding eye contact.

“And you didn’t think to mention that BEFORE we entered the tunnels?” Harry asks, glaring directly into his eyes. Draco looks away.

“It didn’t seem like something that would interest you”

“WHY WOULD IT NOT INTEREST ME?” Harry explodes stepping up into Draco’s space.

“I mean you didn’t ask about it?” Draco says meekly, stepping back. Harry steps forward pining him between his body and the wall.

“HOW COULD I ASK ABOUT IT IF I DIDN’T KNOW IT EXISTED?” His rage gets the better of him and he reaches out twisting Draco’s cloak in his hand and pulling him in. “GODDAMMIT LOOK AT ME DRACO.”

When Draco finally meets his eyes Harry is unprepared. His gray eyes are dark and stormy and sear into Harry’s green gaze like burning embers. Harry breathes in Draco’s comforting scent and he can't stop his gaze from flicking across his lips. Suddenly he can’t decide if he wants to punch or kiss him. He freezes and steps back letting go of Draco’s robes.

“Sorry” He breathes shakily. “I might have overreacted a bit.”

“It’s alright” Draco steps forwards towards him and meets his eyes. Harry can’t stop his body from reacting with a flush of warmth. “I should have told you all the details. I was worried if it sounded dangerous you wouldn’t come.” he adds sheepishly dropping his gaze to the floor again.

“Malfoy, do you even know who you’re talking to?” Harry shoves at his shoulder lightly ignoring the rush of warmth that jolts up his arm.

“You’re right. Should have known a little danger wouldn’t scare you off.” Draco’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now what’s your plan for getting us out of here?”

Harry pokes around at the doors a bit before slumping defeated against a wall. “I can’t find a weak spot. Someone’s going to have to come get us.”

“Ugh.” Draco groans. “So humiliating. The most capable student of our class defeated by a stupid tunnel.”

“Oh I’ve gotten stuck in lots of different places before.” Harry says cheerfully sitting down and leaning back against the wall.

“I meant myself.” Draco says haughtily, folding himself against the wall next to him.

“Oh”

“Can you cast a patronus and get us out of here?”

“I can try.”

Harry tries. A silvery cloud appears at the end of his wand before dispersing into the darkness. He tries again. This time the cloud is smaller.

He slumps back defeated and his shoulder falls against Draco’s. He can’t help himself, he leans in a little. Draco lets him.

“I can’t do it.” he says dejected.

“Okay let me think.”

They sit there for a long time staring into the dark in front of them. Harry, comforted by the warmth of Draco against him, starts to doze off.

He wakes about an hour later to Draco shaking his shoulder enthusiastically.

“Harry. Harry!” Harry realizes he’s slumped against Draco’s shoulder, his body curved around the blonde boy. He pulls himself back into a sitting position abruptly wiping his eyes and looking over at Draco’s face.

“Sorry I fell asleep.” He rushes, voice husky.

“Doesn’t matter,” Draco says distractedly. “I think I have a solution.”

“What is it?” Harry perks up, straightening his spine against the wall.

“You aren’t going to like it.”

“Why not?”

Draco signs. “I think if we combine our magic it’ll be enough to get through to someone in the ministry.”

“You can combine magic?”

“Yes I’ve read about it. I think we can do it. You’ll channel my magic and it’ll be enough for you to cast a patronus.”

“I’m in” Harry says without hesitation.

“Okay.” Draco sounds hesitant. He reaches for his boot, pulls out one of the carefully concealed blades and makes a long slice along his palm.

“Merlin's beard!” Harry exclaims eyes wide as he watches Draco’s blood drip onto the bricks below them. “What are you doing, are you crazy!?”

Draco looks at him with a serious gaze “Harry this is how we combine magic. When our blood mingles we can draw on each other's magic. I have to slice your palm too.”

Harry shakes his head, his eyes wide but when Draco reaches out he lifts his hand and places it in Dracos. “Go for it.” He steals himself for pain.

Draco narrows his eyes and draws the blade against Harry’s palm. The pain sears hot and radiates down his arm. Harry watches his blood drip through his fingers dazed before glancing up into the comfort of Draco’s eyes. Draco grabs his bleeding hand and presses it against his own. Their finders link together and the pain stops. Harry watches Draco’s eyes widen. Their hands start to heat and suddenly raw energy rams itself through Harry’s bloodstream and up his arm. Without even thinking Harry attempts a patronus and watches as a small silver dragon blooms from the tip of his wand.

“Do you usually cast a dragon?” Draco is looking at him, eyes wide and bewildered.

“No,”Harry responds, looking just as confused. “It must have something to do with our shared magic.”

“I guess,” Draco furrows his brow thinking about it for a while. “Well I guess all we do now is wait and hope he’s able to find Granger.” He gestures at the small dragon as it disappears through the metal wall.

Harry nods. Drained from his use of magic, he glances at Draco’s shoulder again wondering if he can get away with another nap.

“Oh go ahead Potter. Just like you get burnt out after only a bit of magic” Draco scoffs gesturing at his shoulder with his free hand, before rubbing his eyes and attempting to look highly alert.

His body sways in exhaustion slightly giving him away but Harry is too tired to taunt him and relaxes his head gratefully onto the warm shoulder next to him. As everything fades to dark. Harry feels Draco's head drop onto his. He hums slightly and curls into him.

The two men succumb to sleep. Bloody hands clasped between them they breathe in unison as the darkness of the tunnel closes in around them.

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 1 (Jason Todd x Reader)

It’s finally finally here! The first of my new series! Check my last post for the overview if you haven’t seen it already. Thank you so much for the support! Love you all!

WORDS: 3087 WARNINGS: UHHHHH I’M NOT SURE IF THIS IS FLUFF

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

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

What is comfort? Does it have to do with familiarity? How you smell, see, hear the same things so much that you wouldn’t bother to be curious at anything new? Never mind how you feel, or what you thought of the place. Or was it supposed to be something that calms you, takes you out of that rope coiling around your limbs, as if you were stretched out on a large enough bed?

Because the waiting room outside the disciplinary office was something you were far too familiar with. You didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable on the steel chair that was too cold for you to rest your arms on. The room was the same, stuffy humid that made you want to take deeper breaths, and there was that lingering smell of either strawberry or lemon perfume. But did it bring you comfort? Not exactly.

Arms folded over your chest, you stared at the Vice Principal’s assistant on her desk. She avoided looking at you, busy with her own paperwork. And it was all too telling that she didn’t want to start a conversation even if she wanted to. But she knew who you were. She looked up, caught your eye, and you looked away without so much as a greeting.

Her phone rang, and you knew it came from her boss. She stood up from her desk and walked over to the VP office’s door right beside you. Only giving you a single look. Not of shame, or pity, or even annoyance. The assistant’s face was blank when she pushed the door open for you. “Ms. Y/LN.”

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you bit on your gums and slowly walked into the office. The door closed behind you, and Vice Principal Watson looked up at you from the edge of her glasses. She had her own set of paperwork on her desk, and with her free hand, she motioned for you to the chair in front.

“Have a seat.”

You kept your arms folded in front of you and looked at the woman, up and down. VP Watson let out a gentle sigh and placed her pencil into her holder to take out another pen. She placed her hands on top of the other over her mouth and kept staring at the chair you didn’t take. She wasn’t too old. A little over her 40s. But she looked exhausted enough to not want to deal with this shit anymore. Your shit, specifically. She wasn’t talking, so you rolled your eyes and reluctantly slumped onto the chair.

“Y/N.” Her voice was soft. “This is a new low. Even for you.”

“He deserved it.”

“What was it that Mr. Maxwell did to you then? Enlighten me.”

You guffawed beneath your breath and your eyes trailed around the room, your tongue pressing behind your teeth. Leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, you spoke.

“He spilled coffee all over my project.”

“I see,” she started writing down onto a form of some sort. “When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“And what was it that you did to retaliate?”

You couldn’t help but smirk. VP Watson looked tiredly at you like she wasn’t anticipating a response she wasn’t already expecting.

“I threw a pair of scissors and it landed on his arm.”

She muffled a slight ‘mhm’, taking down notes without so much as another glance. “Were you aiming at his arm?”

You slumped back against the chair. “Probably not.”

Watson put the pen down and covered her face with her hands with a deep sigh. You held onto the all-too familiar chair and looked around at her desk, at the lack of a framed picture Watson usually had on top.

“I see you went through with the divorce.”

“Enough. You’re not funny.”

But you laughed, your hands folded on your lap. Ms. Watson rested her face on her hands. “You have to give me more details. I can't rule this out as an accident again.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it clearly was an accident when he spilled his drink, Ms. Y/LN.”

“I don’t care,” you said, enunciating every word clearly. “Maxwell has to do my project all over again. For me.”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. Not after you’ve impaled him.”

You groaned indefinitely and looked up at the ceiling.

“For the past month you’ve sent five kids to the councilor crying about the horrible things you’ve said to them.”

“Oh, ‘cause it’s my fault they have the skin thinner than a bald cat?”

“Don’t you have friends to hold you back? Someone you hang out with? Maybe then you can practice just a tiny bit of empathy.”

“I have friends.”

“I’m worried about you, Y/N.” Her arm reached out to the edge of the desk, but you didn’t hold it. You simply stared at it with your raised brow that you’ve drawn high enough to make you look like you were permanently sneering at everyone you meet. “You can talk to Mr. Cadwell. You know our councilors are always welcome to help you.”

“I’m not interested in some heart to heart.”

“You need someone.”

You scoffed so eminently it would’ve probably have been heard from the other room. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Ms. Watson.”

She shook her head. “I no longer know how to help you, Y/N.”

“I said I don’t need help.”

The last time you were here, VP Watson skipped the lecture and handed you the punishment right away and you made your way out of the office after just five minutes. Why couldn’t she just do that every time? Why does she have to drag it out knowing it never ends the way she wants?

“Can’t you imagine the people you’ve sent crying to my office as your friends? Or someone you care about?”

“No.”

“What if it were you? How would that make you feel?”

Your scowl was loud enough to be heard by her secretary outside her office. You could only smile, staring anywhere else but at the Vice Principal with your tongue pressed to the side of your mouth. “I don’t know why they gave you this job, Ms. Watson.”

She chose to ignore the insult. You’ve said worse things. Far worse things.

“You cause permanent damage. It would help if you would… soften up.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Language, or you get another demerit,” she pulled out more of her forms. You scoffed and threw your arms in the air. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“I am doing everything I can to help you. Haven’t you ever had someone you cared about? Someone you wouldn’t get hurt by the things you do? If they were your friends, you wouldn’t want to hurt them, right?.”

“I have friends. As I said.”

“And yet, they’re all afraid of you. Everyone is afraid of you.”

“So?”

“So,” she pinched the middle of her eyes and closed them. “I think you need someone you care about. To make you feel better. A boyfr-“

“A boyfriend?” you almost screamed. “What kind of Vice Principal are you?!”

“I am running out of options. And things to say. You’re not exactly driving me sane here. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never had one, Watson. And I don’t plan on having one. Boys are stupid and annoying and dirty.”

“And every guy you meet is terrified of you, Y/N.”

“That’s how I like it.”

“That-“ VP Watson took her glasses off, wiped them with her shirt, and grabbed her coffee mug from the side of her table. Taking long sips, she placed it back down, hands over her mouth.

“That shouldn’t be the case.”

“I want to go now.”

“I am here to help my students. No matter how personal it can get. It’s part of my job. And my job is to make sure you’re okay and not terrorizing half my other students.”

You shook your head and stared out the window, not even sparing the VP a glance.

“Someone can really help you, and he’ll be someone you’ll want to change for.”

“I’m not interested.”

“It will be difficult, but you need someone who wouldn’t be afraid of you, not even if you tried-“

The door suddenly opened and it crashed right against the hard wall. A small man with glasses and a tie was hauling a young boy with his one hand by the arm, who flinched and was cursing vilely under his breath. His face was newly bruised and his cheek looked sore. He didn’t struggle. He just stood there, glaring at the man, VP Watson, and once he met your eyes, you.

“Ms. Watson-“

“Jerry, I’m in the middle of something.”

Jerry. Your science teacher. He was severely out of breath and the sweat was practically pouring out of his skin. He leaned against a drawer, still holding onto the boy with his hand.

“I’m sorry. But I couldn’t take it. A fight broke out right outside at the cafeteria. I barely made it out of there alive.”

You looked out the window to see if anything else was going on. You’d have loved to watch that fight. Dammit.

“Calm down,” Ms. Watson stood up to hold Jerry by the shoulder. “Who started the fight?”

“Jason Todd,” the teacher pulled on the boy’s arm. “This young man right here.”

Shit. This was too good to witness. Almost amusing even. You watched as the Vice Principal had a surge of yet another headache and you didn’t even bother holding back a light smile. You turned to Jason, who kept his eyes on the ground shamefully by now.

“Mr. Todd. Is that true?”

Todd didn’t look her in the eye. He looked like a guy who could win a fight. He was large. And you’ve seen this kid silently brood around in the hallways. His dark hair was almost always covering his eyes, though he was constantly studying or reading in the library. His eyes had that same darkness when he gritted his teeth and mumbled his response. “Yes.”

“Jesus,” Ms. Watson silently breathed. “Ms. Y/LN. I’m gonna need you to wait outside.”

“Can’t I just go-“

“No. I have a whole new array of punishments for you. Mr. Todd. Take a seat.”

You scoffed again, slamming your hands on the arm rests and pushing the chair back. The Vice Principal pressed onto her telephone and called her assistant. “Jen. Make sure Ms. Y/LN doesn’t leave.”

Slamming the door behind you, you crashed onto the cold seat outside the office again mumbling obscene insults at the Vice Principal who could no longer hear you. Jen, the assistant, managed to glance at you, but the moment you returned the look with a piercing glare, she shrugged and looked away. You laid your head against the wall and closed your eyes.

There was someone else at your side. Another boy you didn’t know. One from the football team. He looked beaten up and his brown hair was an absolute mess. Probably the guy that Todd kid picked a fight with. He looked just as large as Todd was, but he had more bruises than just on his cheek. He held up a bag of ice to his purple eye, his lip was bleeding, and his nose looked like it might need some work. He noticed you stare at him. “What are you looking at, sweet cheeks?”

You widened your eyes, nostrils flaring, and your eyebrows raising almost to your forehead. That glare was enough to make him swallow his words, even with his throat all sore, and look immediately away from you. “S-Sorry, Y/N. Pretend I’m not here.”

Your eyes trailed at him for longer before you closed them and went back to leaning against the wall. Not long after, the door opened, and the Vice Principal looked at you with her arms tiredly motioning for you to come in. “Y/N…”

Walking back inside, this time not taking the seat no matter how long she was going to offer it to you, you stood with your back leaned against the door and looked at Todd watching you with his eyes all hooded. You glared back.

He slowly looked back at the VP. He didn’t flinch when he caught your stare. He looked unbothered, then Ms. Watson gathered her forms and folded them in a nice, neat pile.

“Both your behaviors are simply unacceptable. No amount of detention will cover it. Especially not when it’s neither of your first times here in my office.”

Ms. Watson looked like she was preparing herself. “I have a special task that will surely bring both of you to your needed discipline.”

------

Three pm. By now you were supposed to head home, take a nap. Not stand in the fucking school library with some kid with a bruised face while the librarian hands both of you a monstrous pile of books on two unorganized carts. You pressed a finger down the line between your eyes and nose.

The Librarian, Ms. Peterson, was an old woman far beyond her prime, her back arched so low she was standing right up to your chest. Her white hair was falling intensively onto the books, and you had to brush off a strand that fell on your black sleeve.

“Place these back on the shelves. By genre. Alphabetical.”

“No one reads books anymore. Why the fuck is there so many of them?”

Todd. Jason. The kid you were sentenced the next ten weeks with to be library assistants until 4:30 pm. He snarled at you like you’d insulted his mother.

“People still read them.”

“There are computers right there,” you said, pointing to the array of school computers lined up in a long table. “Why can’t they just use them!?”

“Most people of culture find comfort in books.”

Oh. Oh. This guy.

“Tell me what that was supposed to mean before I have to force it out of you.”

“Better start placing those books on the shelves, Y/N.” He said your name far too sneeringly. Todd took his cart and reeled it over to the shelves. You gritted your teeth, forcibly pulling on your own cart, of which the wheel was squeaking and almost falling out of the socket, and parked it right beside Jason, glaring at him even when he wasn’t even giving you another glance.

“What are you in for, anyway?”

You chucked a book way too harshly into the shelf. “None of your goddamn business.”

“I’d have seen it myself if I wasn’t in my own conundrum.” Conundrum? “Come on. Tell me.”

You took out another book, and without even looking at the cover, placed it on the first available space you could see. “You know that Maxwell kid?”

“The guy who spills his coffee on the table all the time?”

“He spilled it on my project. I worked on it all day.”

“What was it?”

You paused. “Just some collage for art class.”

“Oh,” he watched you arrange a book. “That’s rough. What did you do to him?”

That’s when you smirked like you took pride in what you did. “I threw a pair of scissors. It landed on his arm.”

“Jesus.”

One after another, onto the same shelf. Jason looked over and visibly sighed, stepping closer to you and taking the books you just placed back into the cart.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Be quiet. This is a library.”

You were growling, and your head was starting to boil. “Get the hell away from me.”

“You’re arranging them all wrong. These are classics fictions. Which belong all the way over there,” he pointed to the shelf beside you. “This shelf is for poetry. See?”

You grabbed the cart, making sure he could see the look on your face. Eyes widened. Teeth gritting. Nostrils flared. Eyebrows raised.

And Jason just stared back at you with an equally disgusted face before turning back to his books. “Stop wasting time, Wednesday Adams.”

“You little sh-“

“SHH!” Mrs. Peterson’s shrill voice was loud enough to be heard by the whole library. Everyone looked up from their books, then turned to you. You stepped back and grabbed your cart, cursing when you saw Jason laughing beneath his breath.

You just went to work. Classic fiction. Most of your books were in that genre. You stayed by that shelf, placing them just a tad softer onto the spaces, your boots on their tippy toes when you had to reach the highest shelf. Minutes. An hour. More than an hour.

The light outside the window had started to dim. It was almost 4:30, and you barely arranged half the books in your cart. You peered over at Jason at the other shelf. More than halfway done. You growled, placing the book on top of the spines of other books even when you knew that wasn’t allowed.

The highest shelf was far beyond your reach. Even on your toes. It was five minutes until 4:30. And you just wanted to put this last book before you’d get the hell out of this place.

“Need help?”

You almost slumped too hard on the ground and slammed the book against your thigh. Craning your head up, you looked at Jason, jaw clenched, before rolling your eyes and handing the book to him. His taller frame was able to place the book onto the shelf without much effort. You kept your arms folded while he turned his attention to you with his large arm against the shelf.

Jason was cute. Really cute actually.

“Look, if I’m gonna be stuck here with you for the next ten weeks, we might as well stop hating each other.”

“Don’t take it personally. I’m horrible to everyone.”

“Well, they don’t have the blessing to spend two hours with you in the library every day, which I know you just love doing.”

You cocked your jaw. “I’d rather slam my tongue into a car door.”

“I’m not a fan of this either. We might as well tolerate each other.”

Tolerate. That was much easier. You rolled your eyes just as he stuck his newly bruised hand out for you to shake.

Putting on the biggest fake smile, you grabbed his hand, shook it, and gripped it with enough force to hit his bruises for him to wince away.

“Mother fucker.”

“Hmm.” Another fake smile. “Nice to meet you.”

4:30. You stormed out of the library before anyone else could even look at you.

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

------

  Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf

[nyctolovian]

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Pirate AU, Kidnapping, First Meetings, Waiter Crowley (Good Omens), Pirate Azirphale, Dark Aziraphale (Good Omens), Alcohol

Summary: A weird Pirate!Aziraphale and Civilian!Crowley fic. Written for @whitesuitcrowleyzine

In Crowley's defense, he was already planning to quit his job. He'd had quite enough with dealing with snobby rich people showing off their incredible wealth with luxury yacht dinner parties that he had to serve at. He might as well go out with a bang while wildly flashing middle fingers. The plan just wasn't fully formed yet (what he had at the moment meant that there would be two fires, which was one fire too few) when the pirates hijacked the yacht, waving around guns and knives.

It was mayhem as the pirates took down anyone who fought back and herded everyone else below deck with yelled threats and guns ablazing. Several people broke down in tears and huddled together. As all this transpired, Crowley went largely unnoticed and, not wanting to change that anytime soon, he dared not make any superfluous movement. So he followed the walls of the yacht and tried to make his escape, still carrying the serving tray like a proper professional. The commotion was beginning to dwindle, and Crowley had to be quick.

Just as he neared the staircase, ready to bolt, the weight on his tray shifted as someone lifted a glass from it. Crowley straightened and froze, caught red-handed. The person walked to stand side by side with him and took an elegant sip from the glass and sighed. "This red wine is simply lovely." By now, the commotion had died down to whimpers and sniffles as the pirates stood around on the deck, weapons brandished. Their eyes were pointed in his direction, or more precisely, at the man beside him, who swirled his glass gently and took another sip. Voice light in the way dangerous people kept it to let people know they were enjoying themselves, he asked, "Do you happen to have more of this on this yacht?"

Crowley cleared his throat and answered as calmly as his quickened pulse would let him, "I, I believe so."

"Excellent!" Placing a hand on the small of Crowley's back, he took a step forward, pushing him along. "Now," the pirate said cheerily, lightly pulling his jacket to primly fix it. "I have several announcements. You've been boarded by Eden so consider yourselves under new management."

Crowley didn't know it could but somehow the atmosphere grew thicker with tension. The complexion of the crew especially bleached. Crowley had heard of them—the Eden. He had heard tales from seafarers and such while they were at port. Many, many tales. Frankly, Crowley hadn't been paying attention to any of them, but he reckoned any ship with half as many tales as this one couldn't possibly be good news.

Interlocking his fingers over his belly, the pirate captain went on, "If I see a single silly move, it's off with your head immediately, you understand? I hereby demand you to hand over, well, everything that is valuable. Captain's orders."

Some people immediately began to strip themselves of their jewels and watches while others stayed frozen, like deers caught in headlights. Some of the service crew were huddled together in a corner, and the pirates approached them. Crowley never liked the bunch much, but he kind of wished he was standing there with them. Perhaps huddle together like little ducklings, all wearing the same white-top-black-bottom coat, feeling the safety in numbers, in blending in with one another. Instead, he was stuck standing right beside the pirate captain, still diligently and stupidly carrying the ridiculous serving tray.

Speak of the devil. “Ah, yes,” he said. “And some of that alcohol as well.” He turned to face Crowley with a smile. Upon laying eyes on the waiter's face, however, his eyebrows rose with interest. “How odd. Why are you wearing sunglasses at night?”

He swallowed. “Eye condition. Coloboma.”

The pirate stepped closer and Crowley instinctively leaned away. “Is that so? I believe I've read about that term before," he said. Slowly and deliberately, he pinched the pair of shades and slid it off.

Pale blue eyes connected with Crowley's and his breath hitched. He was tempted to break eye contact, his already jackrabbiting heart practically galloping at this point. Without the dark lenses, it was even more obvious how unusually fair the pirate captain was. His hair was a fluffy white cloud and even the suit he wore was off-white. The wrinkles on his face deepened delightfully as he broke into a smile of fascination. He was… for the lack of a better word, beautiful.

“Slits for pupils,” the pirate said. “And the colour, my, it's practically golden, isn't it? Almost like a snake's.”

"Or so I've heard as well," Crowley bit out.

"They're absolutely gorgeous."

"Wha…?" Blinking, he broke eye contact and gazed sideward.

"Has no one ever told you?" the pirate said, bending to meet Crowley's gaze again.

Gulping, Crowley shook his head. His cheeks felt strangely warm.

There was a sparkle in the pirate captain's eyes as he gently folded the sunglasses and slipped it into the pocket of Crowley's white suit jacket. With a smile, he patted the securely placed pair of shades. Then, he grabbed the serving tray that Crowley was still carrying and carelessly tossed it backwards. The earth-shattering clatter and the shattering of wine glasses made many of the yacht passengers scream in terror. By some miracle, Crowley merely flinched and quickly returned to his ramrod straight position, hands tightly clenched by his sides.

With a satisfied nod, the pirate captain released his jaw. Then, at last, he pulled out of Crowley's personal space, but only to command, "I wish to be shown where the alcohol is kept."

Stiffly, Crowley nodded and the pirate captain waved a couple other goons to follow along. As Crowley shuffled through the kitchen, he'd be lying if he said that the idea of grabbing a knife from the counter to stab someone and bolting didn't cross his mind at all. But he quickly kicked it to the ground. Numbers were not in his favour, and these were pirates for god's sake; they'd probably slit his throat open faster than he could pick up a blade. So instead, he opened the cooler and cold air rushed out to greet them, sending shivers through Crowley. One of the goons let out a low whistle at the sight.

"This is quite the trove. Do the bourgeoisie plan to drink themselves to death?" the captain remarked.

"Much as I hope they do, they drink less than half of what they stock up. It's to show off for the most part," Crowley muttered.

With a hum, the pirate captain sauntered in and lifted a bottle to inspect it. His jaw dropped dramatically at the label. "We are taking all of this, for sure. Now, chop chop!" He clapped his free hand against his wrist.

The pirate goons pushed past Crowley and grabbed two crates each before hauling them out. Crowley, the lanky dude that he was, could only manage one anyway and, thankfully, that was all that was left. He could feel the captain's stare at the back of his head and tried to convince his brain to ignore it. He followed the goons up to the deck and his eyes widened.

She was quite the beauty, even Crowley who was no expert at ships could tell that. A short distance away, the Eden loomed over the yacht, its flag raised high and proud upon the mast. A real pirate ship.

The footsteps of the pirate captain caught up with Crowley and he ducked his head and. Then, he quickened his pace as best as he could with trembling limbs and sweaty palms

Astern of the luxury yacht, speedboats were tied, and there were several people already dropping their plunder off. As Crowley’s crate was taken from him to be transported, he noticed hostages being shoved onto the speedboat and some were kids.

His stomach lurched at the sight.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He needed to get out of this. Somehow.

His heart's rapid palpitation reached his throat. He took his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slid it back on to still his nerves. As casually as possible, he tried to turn and slink away. He’d say he was doing a pretty good job at it since he nearly slipped round the corner.

“Where are you going, Mr Waiter?”

Crowley froze. Taking in a deep breath, he spun around with a schooled expression.

The pirate captain was looking at him with an almost cherub-like smile. He ambled over before removing Crowley's sunglasses and studied Crowley's eyes once more. "They really are gorgeous," he whispered, placing his fingers over Crowley's jaw and tilting his head this way and that, as though to watch it catch the light. "Like jewels. Precious."

Crowley shivered.

"You're a smart boy. I'm sure you know by now my feelings towards objects of high value."

"You're not going to… gouge 'em out or something, right?"

"I quite like the head they're attached to as well actually."

"So you're…" Crowley swallowed around the lump high in his throat. "You're beheading me?"

The pirate sighed loudly and rolled his eyes before pursing his lips with displeasure. "How do you feel about joining my crew?"

Crowley's eyes widened so much, he was surprised they didn't pop right out of their sockets like marbles. "I… uh… what's the job description?"

It was the pirate's turn to be surprised. His eyebrows raised and his lips parted. "I haven't actually thought about it. Perhaps the odd job here and there while you learn the ropes," he replied. "Unless you have any suggestions."

Crowley blinked. The pirate captain looked at him expectantly. "Uh. 't hurts without it," he said, which wasn't a lie anyway. "Glasses."

"My apologies," the pirate said. To Crowley's relief, he returned the pair of shades back to the bridge of his nose. "It is a downright pity."

"Not many feel that way. I've been called the devil more times than I can count. Even had salt thrown at me once."

"Oh, I can imagine." The pirate laughed, a surprisingly genuine one.

"Don't your lot disapprove of," he scrunched his nose as he searched for the words, "demonic things."

"Ah. Yes, pirates are terribly superstitious. It's the sea, I believe." He gazed outwards.

Crowley followed his gaze to look at the dark waves, rocking the yacht, a constant reminder of water's presence and prowess.

The pirate continued, "She's a fickle beast that rears her head every now and again. She can be very difficult to appease, and the creatures that lurk within her even more so. It'd be amusing, I think, to see what tales other ships might spin about you."

"So I'll be the freak show?"

"A lovely addition to the freak show, my dear," the pirate corrected. "We're quite the menagerie. We have a witch, the antichrist and his merry band—"

"The antichrist?" Crowley repeated in disbelief.

"We're still working that out," the captain replied. "And of course there is myself. Well," he fixed his cap and pulled his jacket, "a bit unusual, aren't I?"

Glancing him up and down, Crowley nodded. If he had seen this man walking down the streets today, the first word that would probably pop up in his mind might be "time traveler" (yes, he knew that those were two words but let's not worry over the technicalities). He wore a lovely light suit that looked like it belonged in the early 20th century at least. Perhaps he'd even think "angel", what with the man bearing the face of a cherub. He looked fluffy, white and roundish. Sort of like a polar bear. He looked nothing like a pirate, which was probably what made him feel so intimidating. Upon further thought though, polar bears could be quite the menace, couldn't they?

Clearing his throat, Crowley held out a hand. "Well, I have been planning on resigning from my current job," he said. "Could do with a career change."

"I'm Aziraphale Fell. And how may I address you?"

"That's a mouthful. Crowley. Anthony J Crowley."

The pirate frowned. "What does the J stand for?"

He shrugged. "Uhhhh… Just a J, really. So we have a deal?" He raised his eyebrows in a silent inquiry.

"A deal with the devil," Aziraphale said, glancing skyward as they shook on it. "I wonder what my mother would say about that." When he glanced back down, he frowned. "Oh, your poor sleeves."

Crowley looked down as well. The once pristine white sleeves were streaked with black.

"Was it the crate? It really is a pity, you look quite dashing in white," Aziraphale said, running a finger along the inside of the sleeve.

Crowley shivered.

Of course, there was no way Aziraphale did not notice it, hand tightly grasped around his. "Though I do suppose you'd look dashing in anything." He smiled and added, "Or nothing at all."

[limepigeon]

@crownleys organised an evening of writing sprints over at the Zombies, Fanworks! Discord tonight and here’s what I wrote! I can’t remember if I’ve ever written fanfic for the ZR fandom so it was great fun! Of course I had to write something about everyone’s favourite Radio Boyfriends. Thanks again for organising this Emma! Title: Get it out (or Jack helps Eugene deal with his emotions in a Jack way) Fandom: Zombies, Run! Words: 1,432 Warnings: None Set during Season 1 Notes: I’m sorry if there are spelling/grammar errors in it, I wrote it in two hours and gave it a quick little edit/proof reading but some things may have slipped by (they usually do haha).

Eugene hardly ever gets angry. He doesn’t cause any scenes. If anything he prefers keeping any arguments under a tightly shut lid. Let it simmer for a while until it either fizzes out or boils over. Tonight is the third sleepless night, caused by an unusual large horde taking their sweet time dragging rotten feet across the vast meadows outside of Abel. Everyone is on edge, sure, but Jack and Eugene are the ones trying to keep morale up. “And that’s day three…” Jack sighs into the microphone, “still no signs of stopping. I’m sorry folks but this thing seems to go on forever. Just kilometer after kilometer of endless zombies, all the way to the horizon. There are some places where you can’t even see the ground! I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many in one and the same-“ He’s interrupted by an exasperated groan. “Will you please shut up?” Eugene’s voice is harsh. There’s none of the usual warmth that makes even the coldest of nights comfortable in his presence. He’s rubbing his temples slowly, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. “I’m sorry?” Jack doesn’t even try to not sound offended. “Is my voice bothering you?” “Little bit, yes” Eugene says without as much as looking at Jack. “Too bad, ‘cause this is our job, talking is my job.” “Well, your job is drilling a hole through my skull.” Eugene puts his forehead in his palms and stares at the small red light indicating that they’re still broadcasting. It’s been on for what feels like hours. “Put on a song” he says. “But we have to send out Dr. Myers report on-“ “Put on the fucking song” Eugene demands, punctuating each word harshly, and Jack barely has the time to switch on the CD before Eugene rips his headphones off his head and lets the chair slam into the ground as he stands up.

“Hey Gene, what’s the matter?” Jack reaches out for Eugene’s shoulder but he moves out of the way.   “Aren’t you sick of this?” Eugene mutters while keeping his eyes fixed at the ground. Jack sighs. “Well, it would be nice if they left so we could get some proper sleep, yeah” he says. “I don’t mean the zombies” Eugene says, “I mean all of it.” He seems to lean onto his crutch more than usual. His whole posture seems off. The air outside is chilly now that the sun has set, even though it’s summer. “Gene, I get it, it’s okay to be upset about this, everyone’s-“ Jack gets interrupted again. “I’m not upset Jack! I’m fucking pissed!” The shouting takes Jack by surprise. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen Eugene like this. At least not since… He shakes the past out of his head. “Oh, okay then, uh...” It’s all he can manage. “About what?” “Everything! All this bullshit! We’re just sitting here, talking shit that doesn’t even matter! People are dying out there Jack, and what do we do? We joke, and we laugh, as if that’s what the world needs right now! We’re just…! I’m- I can’t-“ His words get jumbled before his voice cracks. “Hey, hey love, it’s okay” Jack grabs Eugene by his arms “it’s okay.” “I’m just so tired, I don’t know what to do.” Eugene looks into Jack’s eyes, probably for the first time for the entire evening. There’s pain, sure - there always is during hard nights, but there’s something else. Something stuck deep in Eugene, aching to get out. Jack wants to tell him he’s talking shit, that their job is important. That Eugene is important, and not just to Jack. But he knows that’s not what he needs right now. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Jack heads into the tiny shed used for their broadcasts and is back outside in less than a minute. There aren’t many hills in Abel, which is quite ideal when putting up the makeshift homes for newcomers to the township. The radio tower, which has been there long before Jack and Eugene arrived, stands just about a hundred meters away from Janine’s farmhouse at the highest point of Abel. “It’s freezing Jack, what are we even doing here?” Eugene complains. His good leg has started aching from the climb and he didn’t bring any mittens either. “Something that always makes me feel better when I’m angry” Jack smiles. Eugene raises an eyebrow to show his skepticism. “Oi, don’t give me that look! I promise, it’s nothing dirty!” Jack jokingly punches Eugene’s shoulder and Eugene sighs. “You know I love you, but you know what your problem is, Gene? You’re always so bloody calm and collected. When was the last time you just let it all go?” “I, uh” Eugene starts but quickly falters. “Jack, what are we doing here?” His voice grows a bit more cautious. “We’re going to scream” Jack looks at Eugene almost triumphantly and Gene can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you’re serious?” Eugene’s has something akin to terror creeping onto his face when he realizes Jack is in fact not joking. “Dead serious, my man” Jack says and slaps Eugene’s back. “Now go on!” “I’m not going to scream” Eugene protests and he looks like he’s about to turn around to start the journey down the hill. He’s not prepared for the sound and his whole body tenses up in reaction to it. It’s loud, but different from what he’s heard during his time outside the walls, or in their tent at night when his partner wakes him up in a sweat-drenched panic. The scream now is lighter, not nearly is dreadful as the ones Eugene is used to. Afterwards there’s an almost as loud burst of laughter. “What the hell, Jack?” Eugene exclaims as he spins around, only to find Jack almost doubled over. He smiles at Eugene with a wide grin which is incredibly infectious. “Your turn” he says once he’s managed to catch his breath, only a little hoarse. “Come on.” He reaches out his hand towards Eugene, who with the help of his crutches moves closer to Jack. He can’t help but smile.

Janine tends to stay up late. Tonight she’s found something else that needs repairing. The radio has been on for the last couple of days, she likes to keep herself updated on the situation and maybe especially so at night. She barely listens to the song playing, only annoyed at how it interferes with the updates on the horde. Then it abruptly stops as Jack’s voice replaces the tunes. “Very sorry listeners, but I have some urgent business to attend to! We’ll be back shortly, in high spirits! Stay safe!”   She looks out of the kitchen window as two figures make their way up the hill towards the farmhouse. For a second she dreads the possibility of an unannounced drop by but as they start moving towards the radio tower her shoulders lowers again. She follows them with her gaze and even by just the light of the full moon she recognizes Jack and Eugene. Curious by her nature she opens the window just a crack, letting the summer air creep in. She moves some dirty dishes from the counter to the sink and brings her project from the kitchen table. Before the end of the world she had the TV on while working, not as company of course, Janine de Luca would like you to know she was not a lonely woman. It is the same now. She doesn’t watch the two men out of loneliness; she simply wants to know what’s going on in their lives. What Jack Holden and Eugene Woods do when no one else is around, when they are comfortable just the two of them. She’s seen the way they look at each other and lets her mind drift to an imaginary future where maybe something like that could, perhaps, be possible for her too? The first scream almost makes her jam the screwdriver into her hand. She curses loudly while looking out of the window bewildered, and then sighs when she watches the two men up on the hill. The second scream comes a few minutes later. It’s different. Unfamiliar and filled with more emotions than Janine thought possible to fit inside of a person all at once. It lasts at least twice as long as the first one and ends almost in a wail.

The calm silence lingering afterwards lasts for a couple of minutes, until it starts up again. Then the screams starts mixing together with laughter until there’s only the latter left. Janine shakes her head, thinking how everyone in Abel must be just as startled as her. Then she smiles.

[storiesbyl1ck]

The Forest

Before you read the beginning of this Story, I would like to say a few words. This book, was started 3 years ago from a short story competition between some of my friends. The Story was short but I fell in love with the idea of the story. It has been my pride and joy over the past few years, as I have added chapters, rewritten many pages over and over until I liked it. To do this day I have not finished the book. I hate endings, also I am very bad at sticking to one project and with my constant push for a new story this one fell behind the stove. I would like to hear your honest opinion on this first chapter and maybe I will finish it, because god do I love this book. (If I finish it, the rest will be publish on amazon or somewhere) Thank you for reading this short passage, if you did. 

(if there are any errors, I am sorry) 

Chapter 1: Beginning

She wasn’t going to listen to her parents. Her mindless fun in the rain muffled the distressed screams of her father to come back inside. She hopped between the puddles that collected throughout the grass in their yard. As her feet impacted the water tension, she imitated a landing sound of something much larger than her, ‘boom’. She saw herself as a giant. Her imagination took over her mindful thoughts, often leaving her in between the boundary of real life and her mind. It was what her dad called a terrible blessing. She did not want to wear a raincoat, to her, there was no reason to play in the rain if she wasn’t going to get wet. She wanted to feel the water. She stopped and held her arms out on both sides. Her head facing the sky, letting the rainfall swallow her. Her dad gave up trying to get her to come back in. He closed the front door with agitation.

“She is going to catch a cold!” His voice was raised, the sound of irritation lingered in his words. Her mom was in the kitchen stirring up a warm stew, for the cold day. She let out a small chuckle.

“She’ll be fine, I mean look at how much fun she’s having!” He looked through the window to see his daughter laughing and screaming. His anger fell from his face to reveal a small smirk. 

“Well she has to come in soon, it is getting late!” He kissed his wife and began to help her cut carrots for the stew.

She ran through the backyard, back and forth between the patches of dampening grass. It made her feel like she was flying. Especially when she looked up toward the sky. The rain was getting heavier, the intense fall of water had made sight almost a useless sense. But she continued to blindly run around. Laughing and giggling. 

‘Darling... come in now!’ the voice cut through the booming rainfall. She stopped frolicking to hear the off-tone voice of her mother. ‘This way Love!’ She followed the powerful words through the rain. It now sounded like the words were coming from everywhere, no origin of the voice. She looked around through the wall of water that surrounded her. Spinning in circles trying to find her mother. 

‘We are here darling!’ She stopped spinning with her heel, digging it into the mud. Her eyes stared down a passage through the water, it had split open. A clear sight of an opening into the forest. The ground through this split was dry, like it had never been raining.

‘Come on darling I won’t ask again!’ The voice of her mother was coming from inside the entwined trees. Her curiosity spiked, outweighing the foreboding feeling found in the pit of her stomach. She slowly walked down the path through the rain. Holding her hands together, close to her mouth. The rain began to undo the path she had already walked on, closing in behind her with every step. She paused when her feet had touched a crisp press of dead leaves. ‘Come into the trees darling!’ She stood upon the woods at the end of her yard, the towering tree seemed to almost bend over her head. Her attention was taken back from the trees to the voice. 

‘Come on Darling!!!’ Her feet seemed to move on their own as she pushed forward into the ominous forest. A thick fog began to roll in from all directions moving like waves at a beach. It was like smoke, it had an indescribable smell, a smell of horrific flavors. Her curiosity was very quickly replaced with a powerful fear of her surroundings. Her soul-shaking in her own skin. She spun around ready to run back, but it all looked the same now. Her house was no longer in view. She was surrounded by a maze of leaves and branches. This was now a game. 

‘We are the only ones who love you…’ Tears fell from her cheeks landing on the forest floor.

‘Don’t cry, you are safe with us…’ 

“Where is she, it’s almost 9!” Her father was looking out every window of the house, trying to spot his daughter. 

“She is probably playing in the woods honey don’t worry.” The mom finished setting the table for dinner. “If you want, I can go look for her?” “You are getting in this huge mess and you have work tomorrow you need your sleep.” The exhaustion in his eyes showed itself very clearly. But the worried father showed, even more, it was just that look. Her mom smiled with open arms, ready to give a hug of comfort. Her arms wrapped around him as he sighed.

“She never listens…”

“You know her, she always lost in her own head.” She pushed away to see his face and gave him a gleaming smile. “Kind of like you.” She painted a kiss with her lips onto his cheek. “I’ll go find her, you go to sleep.” She got her raincoat and boots as he walked upstairs and climbed into bed. He looked out the window of their bedroom and saw his wife running into the forest with a flood lamp. As she neared the forest the only thing that gave off her location was the light. The light then disappeared into the thick brush and rain. But his mind was in and out of consciousness and his worried feelings drifted above his head. He walked to the comforting sheets and fell asleep within seconds, not hearing the screaming that echoed throughout the rain. 

‘They love us more….’

The voice rang in his head, awakening him in a sweat. His body was twitching from his pounding heart. He couldn’t catch his breath fast enough to scream, He jolted his head to where his wife usually laid. It was empty. He hopped out of bed and ran down the hall to his daughter's room. Dark, the bed was still neatly made the way she left if the morning before. His terrorized self slipped down the stairs, he swung the front door open and stood at the edge of his porch “EVAAAA...ELLIE!” He cupped his hands around his mouth trying to have his word carrying farther through the rain. It had calmed down, but still muffled his cries. After trying once more he ran into the rain and tried again,

“EVA…...ELLIE!” Nothing but the sound of the trees blowing in the wind. He searched the yard for anything that may resemble his family. The Flood lamp shined through the storm, bouncing off the hazed air. His feet could not move faster to the light. A relief pushed him to run faster towards the only hope of his wife and daughter being back in his arms. As he neared the lamp his composure slipped away with the raindrops. The lamp lay on the edge of his yard. The lamp teased the darkness with his collapsing mentality as it began to flicker in and out. Within moments he was engulfed in the midnight atmosphere. Identical to his overwhelming flush of tormenting grief. He collapsed to the wet grass underneath his feet - resting on his knees, his head fell below his shoulders. His attention began to grow inward, towards the emotional desolation and less on the physical world that was surrounding him with torment. 

“They belong to us…”

Voices began to ripple in his thoughts. Till one stood out from the rest:

“DADDY!”

He stood up with determination, the distressed voice drove him into the dark wooded lands, blind. He followed the echoes of his daughter's pleads.

“DADDY PLEASE HELP ME!”

He held his hands out ahead of his steps. He found himself in an opening, a small circular field, surrounded by sturdy oak and evergreens. A dark stump centered in the middle of the plain. A red glow resonated from the top of the remains of a once-great tree. A hushed mumbling surrounded the stub, an incoherent chant. It sounded like it was repeating the same syllables but it was not any language he had heard. His curiosity grew beyond the stump, where a motionless shadow stood. 

“Ellie!?” He pierced his throat with his dry voice, trying to yell over the raindrops. The shadow moved slightly, its head turned to face Forrus. Nothing was describable but its eyes. Headlights filled with anger, the crimson color of its oval eyes impaled his mind. A wave of panic tossed him to the ground. A loud screech came from the creature before it jumped over the treeline. 

“What the fuck…” He laid on his back, his head processing the event.

“Wake up, WAKE UP FORRUS!” he spun around and began hitting his head on the ground. 

“Daddy?” He turned to see his daughter standing behind him.

“Oh my god, Eva… I thought I lost you.” Forrus spoke between quick breathes and tears. 

“You did Daddy…Help me...” Forrus stared at Eva as she slowly faded into the rain. He grabbed for her, but she was gone. 

...

“I TOLD YOU… I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” “ALL I KNOW IS THEY ARE OUT THERE LOST, NOW ARE YOUR MEN GOING TO DO THERE JOB AND FIND MY FAMILY!!!” Forrus wanted to believe it was a simple nightmare, but his love, his daughter were still gone. 

 “Sir, we just need to know why you were in the forest. With no sighting of your wife or daughter, the only person on the scene was you.”

“Who...Called you guys?” Forrus’s head was leaning onto his left shoulder. As his neck was incapable of holding all the images in his now broken mind. The two officers looked to each other then back to Forrus. 

“Uh… you did sir.” Forrus looked up to them, confused. “Sir we are not saying you had anything to do with their disappearance, but…” The officer cleared her throat, “That’s what it kind of looks like.”

(Forrus was taken to court for the disappearance of Eva and Ellie, but with lack of evidence He was proven to be guilty and set free. But the image of Forrus being a murderer stuck to everyone. He was outcasted by neighbors and became isolated from the world outside the woods.)

[commander-diomika]

Pairing: Grizzop/Oscar Wilde/Hamid, though mostly Grizzop/Hamid.

Word Count: 1600

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Panties, Bondage, Overstimulation, Blow Jobs, Xeno, Mushblins, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, mild degradaton/humiliation, There's a lot going on in this one pals, Kinktober

Prompt: Panties & Lingerie / Overstimulation / Dub Con

Summary: Grizzop comes back from a hunt with energy to burn.

Wilde had sucked Hamid off, lavish and gentle, slow laves of his tongue over a long and decadent session, bringing him slowing up to the edge and back again, until his whole world narrowed to the overly sensitised head of his cock, until he could cry with the tease of it all. Wilde finally relented, swallowing him down and finally drawing Hamid over the edge, gulping down every drop of his spend, then cleaning him with an attentive mouth over the tickly, well-tended head of his cock. Wilde then tucked him back into the panties, smoothing the hand over the silk before bidding him good evening.

Hamid stood in front of the mirror appreciating himself, the gift of the beautiful lingerie Wilde had found for him. The man truly had incredible taste, or at least Hamid’s and Wilde’s taste ran in a tight enough parallel to make no difference.

The purple panties and the bralette simply had to be custom-made; the way the panties cupped his balls and the sheer lace bralette hugged his flat small chest, seemingly to make it curve in all the right ways. Hamid ran a hand up and down his sides, relishing the afterglow and soft lace under his palms.

He felt tenderly wrapped up in the warmth of it all; so much so that the first time he realised he wasn’t alone was a quick flash of red eyes in the dark. All breath left Hamid’s lungs before Grizzop’s body slammed into the back of him.

At first touch, Hamid just thought it was the cool of Grizzop’s breastplate against his bare back, but no, the goblin was wet, and muddy. Hamid gasped in air and made a noise of disgust.

“Wotcher, Hamid.” One wiry arm wrapped around his waist, the other sweeping up Hamid’s chest, smearing a line of mud over his stomach and over the lace of the bra.

“Grizzop!” Hamid screeched at the sight. “Get off me, you’re disgusting!”

Grizzop made a thoughtful noise. “I know.” Squeezing Hamid tighter to his chest, he ground his hips into Hamid’s rump. Hamid could feel Grizzop’s crotch pulsing against lace-clad buttocks.

“I’m serious! These were a gift!” Hamid wrenched his body in Grizzop’s grip, but it was like fending off a python once he got a hold of you. Unable to take his eyes off the smear of dirt marring his beautiful lingerie, Hamid opened his mouth to cast a spell, and Grizzop’s grimy fingers shoved into his mouth.

“Mmrgrrzp!”

“What’s so good about this costume shit anyway?” Grizzop’s arms squeezed into Hamid’s sides. “I never got what you and Oscar got out of wrapping up all fancy like this.” Holding him steady between forearms, Grizzop plucked at the tatted lace over Hamid’s chest. Hamid could hear the threads breaking under such treatment, and bit down on the fingers in his mouth in outrage.

“Ow! You little-” they scrabbled, Hamid breaking out of Grizzop’s grip for half a breath before a booted foot jammed into the back one knee and Hamid went down, twisting to face his assailant as he went. Even as a caster, all the combat experience he’d racked up hadn’t been for nothing.

Hamid landed on his arse and scrambled back, one hand lifting and a spell half-spoken on his lips. The spell fizzled just as he felt a cool click around one ankle .

“W-where did you get those?” Hamid stammered, backwards momentum dying as Grizzop clicked the other anti-magic cuff closed.

“Oscar.” Grizzop straightened back up, standing between Hamid’s ankles. “He doesn’t need them anymore so, he gave them to me. Said they might come in handy-” Grizzop’s eyes met Hamid’s, voice heavy with implication “-on a hunt.”

Hamid felt a sting of betrayal even as his previously-spent cock twitched at the look in Grizzop’s eyes. The cuffs were heavy and wide on his ankles, but still tight enough that a quick glance down showed that they wouldn’t be slipping off his feet anytime soon.

He didn’t get a chance to investigate further as Grizzop surged forward. He was often like this when he came back from a hunt, all crackling energy and impossible lust, but he usually went and worked it off with Wilde, who was a little… sturdier.

Grizzop caught Hamid’s wrist in one vice-like grip and moved to drag him backward to the bed. The other hand scooped up the back of the little bralette and yanked, hiking the band up around Hamid’s armpits.

Hamid’s feet scrabbled on the floor, trying to keep up with Grizzop’s momentum and protect the delicate material from snapping.

“Grizzop, no, you’re ruining- these were a gift! You- you- beast!” Hamid protested as he was hauled up onto the bed, the band cutting into his armpits and stretching, tearing.

Grizzop’s eyes gleamed over him in the darkness. “I’d rather be a beast than a useless, pretty doll, all dressed in ribbons and whatever the fuck this is.”

Hamid’s head felt fuzzy, like moving through tar without the familiar fire of magic in his veins. He couldn’t even get his hands up to properly resist as Grizzop flipped him onto his stomach and plopped his weight in the middle of Hamid’s back. Grizzop was already winding ropes around his wrists before Hamid could even voice a protest.

Hamid had been tied up before, of course. He liked other people looking after him. He liked giving himself over to others, and what better way of symbolising that than allowing yourself to be bound? But he’d always had his magic, and besides, when Wilde did it, it was a delicate, reverent thing. Here, with Grizzop’s claws finishing the wrap and throwing a loose end around a bedpost with a grunt, it felt… utilitarian.

The weight on Hamid’s back pressed his half-hard cock into the silk of his panties, and even though the material was beautifully soft, it still sent zings up his spine and a sob escaped his lips, the pressure unpleasant, tickly. Despite the way it zapped his brain, blood went pulsing back down there. The sensation felt like it would go on forever, until a blessed moment of relief as Grizzop’s weight lifted from his back.

Hamid, over the noise of his own ragged breathing, could hear Grizzop shoving his pants down. The bed sank under Grizzop’s knees as he straddled Hamid’s legs, and with dawning horror Hamid realised something. He’s still wearing his FILTHY SHOES! On MY BED! And that was the most distressing thought he’d ever experienced… right up until he felt sharp teeth bite into the lace over his backside.

“GRIZZOP!” Hamid cried as the back of his panties were completely torn to shreds.

“Pftheh." Grizzop spat the remnants of fabric out."What? They’re stupid. And pointless. And in my way.”

Grizzop hadn’t taken his controlling weight off Hamid’s legs, shuffling up and spreading Hamid’s buttocks in sharp hands, and Hamid wiggled and squirmed as Grizzop spat, aim perfect, on Hamid’s exposed hole.

Grizzop’s tendrils, slick and hot, slid between Hamid’s cheeks, curious and catlike. It was always the most eerie sensation to start, until they spiralled and joined, pushing inside of Hamid without preamble.

Hamid was now fully hard, the front of the panties still solid enough to trap his cock against them, and as Grizzop rutted fully into him, the rub of his cock against the silk nearly made him white out.

"Grrizzzzzop!" he wailed. His arse was slick with Grizzop’s fluids, still feeling open and hot from Wilde’s attention earlier, but in no way ready for the intrusion, stinging and spiraling, of Grizzop’s strange cock.

Hamid squirmed beneath the onslaught, little pants escaping his mouth as he tugged uselessly against the bindings on his hands. Grizzop leant down, fastening teeth over the meat of Hamid's shoulder. The goblin didn't bite all the way down, merely held Hamid, but under the threat of those points of sharp teeth, Hamid stilled quickly, breath hot and chills radiating out from the bite.

Grizzop gripped Hamid's hips as the halfling stilled, and fucked into him, fast and ruthless, little pleasured growls escaping his lips. Despite his frenetic pace, the force of Grizzop’s teeth remained perfectly measured, not quite breaking the skin. Hamid’s head buzzed and frothed, every thrust squashing his prick against the panties.

It only took a minute or two for Grizzop to take his pleasure. Hamid felt the pulsing, gushing slick of the climax inside of him.

Grizzop settled his weight properly onto Hamid’s back, the metal of his breastplate warm, his rain soaked clothes practically steaming. “If I take the cuffs off, you promise not to blast me?”

Hamid took a shuddering breath as Grizzop’s cock slid wetly from his hole. "I won't but I should, you terror." Thankfully he felt his prick softening, the unbearable friction of skin on cloth abating. He felt his breath returning and a fond, frustrated smile twitching on his lips.

Grizzop unbound Hamid as efficiently as he'd trussed him. Before taking his weight off Hamid, he pecked a quick kiss to the back of Hamid's neck.

"Thanks!" Clearly not quite trusting the promise not to blast him, Grizzop sped out of the room at his usual clip, grabbing his pants as he went.

…

Later on, as Hamid slept, Wilde dropped off a package in his room. It was a froth of purple lace, wrapped in a ribbon. Having heard Hamid’s wails and caught sight of the half-dressed goblin leaving his room, he thought that Hamid would probably appreciate a replacement gift.

[depths-of-hope-and-despair]

Inception

Aditi dragged her feet back to her room, flipping the light switch off and practically collapsing onto her bed. Typically, the dark haired girl would drown herself in alcohol until sleep found her, but after the emotionally exhausted rescue and reunited with those she considered family, she needed no help at all with falling to sleep. She could only hope for pleasant dreams and not one of her dreaded night terrors.

When her eyes opened, Aditi was greeted by an unfamiliar sight. An office room, complete with an expensive wooden desk, dark teal walls, motivational pictures and childish drawings adorning the scene, and a hollow empty window to her left. A therapist’s office, not that she was familiar with that setting whatsoever. 

In front of her, with legs propped up on the office desk, was an usual man, staring straight through her. He smirked like a beast eyeing its prey, two fangs poking out from his upper lip. An unnatural luminescent pair of pink eyes met an equal rival in Aditi’s own bright lime green.

“Oh, what a surprise. I didn’t expect a new patient at this time.” He claimed, his voice reassuring while his predatory gaze switched to an apologetic expression instead. “Certainly I can squeeze you in, I’ll take my break a moment or two later is all.” Swiftly, he wrote down a note in a small notepad nearby only to slam it shut eagerly a second later. Leaning forward with interest, his gaze met hers once again. “May I ask who you are, my child?”

Aditi stared back, blinking slowly at the aura of this new character. She rarely saw new faces in her own dreams. This was out of the ordinary to say the least. “... Aditi.” She answered after a brief pause, her eyes scanning the room and moving back to him. “Why am I here?” She asked bluntly, trying to keep her anxiety at bay. The things she didn’t understand immediately were the most unnerving.

The man dotted down the information in his notepad once more, his hand moving at a breakneck pace. “Can you tell me your age and preferred pronouns?” Aditi looked down, noticing he seemed to be drawing a small sketch of her face on the information sheet. Strange.

“Twenty. She/Her.” She informed, her impatience already taking hold and shining through her tone. Her foot tapped on the hard floor, hand gripping the arm of the chair she sat in adjacent to the man. “Are you studying me?”

“Do not be afraid, Aditi.” He glanced up at her, his fangs on plain display while smiling, noticing how tense she had become. “I am under oath. All the information you give to me shall never leave this office.” He assured, tossing the notebook aside after the information was filled in completely. “You must be confused. Usually my patients come here for our patented dream therapy. It’s quite the genius invention. People more than often cannot afford or barely have the time to seek out someone that can help them with their mental health, sometimes they are too young and their parents don’t allow it. This is where I come in.” Though his explanation was vague at best, he flailed his arms in such a flamboyant nature that Aditi would have almost been fooled that she learned something new. Almost.

“So...” Aditi began, folding her arms together, closing herself off with narrowed unimpressed eyes. “You are a dream demon then? One that offers... therapy?”

“You wound me with such a barbaric title like that, Aditi.” The man chuckled at her change in posture, gaze softening to become more sincere and reassuring. “I can assure you, there is no need to fear me. I am an educated professional. I even have a degree.” He nodded towards the wall where, surely enough, a college degree was laminated and hung proudly on the wall. 

The ravenette squinted at the paper hung on the wall. Albert, that was his name. “.... That is a degree in marine biology.” She informed him, flatly.

“Unfortunately-“ He continued with an easy smile upon his face, electing to completely ignore her comment. “I did not have time to prepare for your arrival, so we will have to make due with a shorter session today.” Aditi could hear the sound of a drawer roll open, the man in front of her now holding up a deck of cards. “How about we play a little game to break the ice? Draw a card, there are pictures on the cards, and tell me something out of your life that reminds you of the picture. I will even play along with you, so we both learn about one another.”

Aditi steeled herself, frowning. There was no use fighting this, it was a dream. A fantasy. Nothing here could hurt her. It could end quicker and painlessly if she played along. With that in mind, her hand reached out and picked one of the cards from the deck. Looking over the splotches of ink and the shape they made, an answer fell out automatically. “A syringe.”

Aditi pushed the card back towards him delicately, ushering him to take his turn. “The point of this game is to get to know one another? I don’t see how image association will help with that.” She commented cynically.

“Oh contraire. Image association games reveal a lot about one's character and psyche.” He corrected her, tracing the ink on the card with his finger. “One sees a bunny in a blot, another may see a terrible monster. It’s the most basic way to determine thought disorders and reveal the mindset of a person. It has been used since 1921.” He chuckled, putting the card at the bottom of the deck and pulling one himself, looking at the image was the first time he broke eye contact with Aditi, intense gaze now roaming over the ink while talking: “Thoughts. Memories. All of it are pictures projected in the human mind. And the same memory could look very different in another person's head. It’s all just.... a matter of perspective....”

“You talk quite a lot, don’t you?” Aditi remarked, blinking at him, seemingly almost amused by his bountiful amount of information on this topic.

“It is my job to talk a lot, Aditi.” He commented in return, finally giving his answer: “I see hands.” 

Aditi hummed, reaching forward and grabbing the next card on her own. Scanning over the ink sketch, only one answer came to mind. The lines of black ink could only register as the cold iron bars. “I see a cage.” 

He dotted down another sentence at her words, not commenting in the slightest, instead looking at the ink splotch she saw, a crooked smirk spreading on his face. A lot of the younger patients saw a hashtag in it. He couldn’t say he was tech savvy, he didn’t even have a computer in his office, but the thing he always saw was....

“.....I see a cage too. How fascinating.” His smirk softened, becoming a bit more genuine as he then wondered: “I’m sorry, but can I ask you a...personal question? You are free to stay silent of course, but you don‘t like doctors and hospitals, do you?”

Aditi watched as he sat down the card, noticing the slight softening in expression from him. It didn’t mean much, but it was a start. A small sign, if any at all. When he asked his question, her neutral glance faltered into a harder and closed off expression. “... hatred.” She corrected. “I do not dislike them. I despise them.” She stated matter of factly, with crossed arms, solidifying her mental barrier.

He merely chuckled at her response, putting a simple check mark by his earlier assumption written down. He put the card back on the used pile and drew a card of his own, his expression changing to a manic one as he stared back at the red eyes on the paper, informing her: “I see......dismemberment.....” He slid the card towards her, pressing: “It’s weird that a card like this would be in the deck, isn’t it? Not that there's anything wrong with it, it’s just....unique.”

While the design was unnerving, her eyes only narrowed in confusion. The piercing red eyes struck her, and reminded her of only one person. What did that one person represent to her though? It didn’t take long to give her answer. “Obsession.” She answered, sliding it back to him, and flattening her lip. “Strange? Perhaps for a typical therapist, but you are not that, now are you?” She retorted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my child.“ he responded, not deterred or caught off guard in any way at Aditi‘s question, but also not going to answer it. He put the card back in the deck, holding eye contact with Aditi. He had a general idea of what happened to her, but saying it would only agitate her, so he held his tongue. “But you aren’t quite the ordinary girl either, are you?“ he began, gaze sharp.

“I can see it in your eyes. You look like you‘re ready to rip me apart with monstrous extremities should I make one wrong movement.“ he laughed in an amused fashion, unfazed by the idea of potential death. “You are a very fascinating young woman, Aditi.“ The girl across from him fought back the urge to pout at his intrigue and not fear. 

He shook his head. “Unfortunately we will have to cut the session short for today, but I promise you that we will meet each other again. My prescription for this time....“ he slowly wrote a note, making sure it was readable, his pen leaving little red ink splotches. “Is to open up to a person you care about. Nothing severe, of course, only with what you are comfortable with. Like admitting you stole a book from their nightstand. Do you think you can do that?“ he offered her the note.

Looking down at the card held out, Aditi huffs. Her hand reached out, accepting the note. “.... Tch. I’ll open up as I please, Doctor.” She hissed back defiantly, not eager to accept his advice right away. See her again? What did that even mean? This was only a dream, and she rarely had recurring dreams. It is only a cryptic message, ignore it. 

Despite the dream ending, and continuing with her day in the living, she couldn’t stop going back to the advice. To open up to someone else more. That she would see him again. It drove her nearly mad. But... curiously, she ended up following it. In the process of her late night drinking session before bed, Aditi admitted to Iyabo about how she began drinking by force. Celia fed her alcohol to observe the effects on her body with a lack of the usual organs needed to digest it. To make her dependent on Celia in one more way, as a supply for her alcohol addiction. Of course, Iyabo didn’t know how to respond, and only tried to awkwardly comfort her before scurrying off to her room. Not much progress, but... the first step could be made from this, perhaps?

Not that Aditi remembered that step forward after passing out on the couch anyways..

[leapingtitan]

The Final Season - Episode 1 Thoughts

I've watched the first episode around 3 times on my own and over a dozen times from anime-only live reactions on YouTube. Those are always something to have a field day with every season, and are part of the whole enjoyment post-watching the episode on your own.

Obviously I'm only reviewing this based on the first episode, so it's way too early to judge The Final Season as a whole. However, I will say that my strategy to keep my expectations low definitely worked. I was very hyped, don't get me wrong, but after Season 3 Part 2, I realized that production and scheduling has never been this show's strong suite and things behind the scenes were always chaotic. And it was my mistake to realize it this late and have unrealistically high expectations of the manga's adaptation.

But enough about that. I'm just gonna say it right now. I absolutely loved this episode and was completely blown away by it. It was a rollercoaster ride from start to finish and boy, the staff wasn't kidding when they said the first episode was like a movie. It definitely felt like that, and it went by in a flash. Now, on to the individual points.

Story/Adaptation

Flawless. Everything was executed perfectly and went beyond my expectations. The thing that stood out to me the most was how many things were changed from the PV in terms of scene construction, camera angles, and overall storyboards. There was only one shot that we reused from the PV, namely the one with Zeke and Reiner inside the airship where they're referred to as the spear and shield. Everything else was redone, which was a huge surprise. Wit was always very faithful to the original manga panels with how they used them as a big reference for most of their cuts, but this one changes them up a lot. Personally, I am 100% fine with it and as someone who has read these chapters in the manga dozens of times over the past few years, seeing them like this was a pleasant and very welcome surprise.

The anime-only additions here are notable and also quite welcome. Falco's line in the beginning in particular stood out the most in the long-run, but the addition of the Eldians' terror being shown as well as the scene before the ED was very welcome. I would like to assume that this was Isayama's doing as whenever the anime usually adds/changes up things, it's his request to do so. He sort of considers the anime to be the "definitive" version of the story that he, for one reason or another, couldn't do in the manga himself when that particular chapter came out. Season 3 Part 1 (The Uprising Arc) is a prime example for this. Once again, I'm very content with what was done here and I trust MAPPA will do the story justice.

A small but very neat thing is the fact that we got to keep the title cards and the info eyecatches mid-episode. Really added to the whole sense of consistency.

Animation

When the initial trailer came out, many people were concerned about Shigeki Asakawa (Director of Photography)'s odd and excessive usage of blur filters on top of the scenes and were wondering if they would remain in the final product, given her track record with other shows like The God of Highschool. Luckily, that is not the case here as the scenes look very clean and the minimal blur on top adds a bit to the muddy/gritty atmosphere of what's going on. Personally, I don't mind it at all and I barely notice it anyway. MAPPA's biggest strength to me is the usage of effects like blood and explosions. You feel the impact of everything and with such an action-packed episode, it made everything so much better.

The usage of 3D CGI for the Titan Shifters has been the biggest controversy surrounding this first episode. When I first watched it, it didn't bother me at all. Personally I care more about a model fitting in the action sequence rather than how it looks for the most part. Right now I would say I'm neutral. It's not the greatest CG ever conceived in anime but it definitely does not look out of place and is pretty decent. For the Jaw Titan, I couldn't tell what was CG and what wasn't for the most part. For the other Titans it's more obvious, but it's not too jarring. Obviously, if it was up to me and the production committee/NHK didn't push their scheduling shenanigans onto MAPPA, I would have gotten every Titan in 2D, but you can't have everything. If they choose to focus on more important scenes later on and cut corners in this first episode as a result, that's understandable. I can live with it. And again, even then, it's not that bad in my eyes.

Now, the character designs are just absolutely stellar. In multiple interviews, it’s been stated that they wanted to stay true to Kyoji Asano’s designs at Wit while also being consistent with Isayama’s style in the manga. And boy did they absolutely nail it. It’s exactly what as they said. Tomohiro Kishi could not have done a better job with the characters we’ve seen so far and I am beyond impressed with his work. I look forward to seeing the rest of the characters in this arc.

Sound

I've been following Kohta Yamamoto's works for a few years now, ever since he started working with Sawano (and being mentored by him to an extent) in early 2017. Although he's been involved with AoT before, particularly with the character songs in Season 2, whenever those two would collaborate on a project it would usually be because Sawano is too busy to compose a full soundtrack. So what usually happens is, Sawano does one track and variations of it (think ShingekiNoKyojin, ThanksAT and T-KT), and nothing else. Meanwhile, Yamamoto handles the rest of the music for the show. On top of that, Yamamoto's style as a composer is different from Sawano's as he comes from a rock/guitarist background as opposed to Sawano, who is a pianist and is classically trained. My biggest concern for The Final Season was that we would get a similar case as with the other shows where Sawano doesn't put in too much effort, while Yamamoto essentially becomes the main composer. Although it looks like this is in fact the case after this first episode, let me explain why I don't think it's a bad thing.

After the premiere of the first episode, both Sawano and Yamamoto tweeted that it was in fact Yamamoto who is handling the majority of the Marley Arc's music. And after this first episode, I have to say I'm impressed. His initial track that he made for the PV was a bit off-putting to me because it sounded like every epic blockbuster Hollywood trailer background track ever, but after the way it was used in this episode alongside a few other tracks, I have to say I'm pleasantly surprised. It fits what's going on, and overall delivers a fresh sound to the show that is very appropriate given the massive change in narrative. Back during S3 Part 1, Sawano stated in an interview that he was already burned out and had trouble coming up with new music for AoT given how many tracks he had already composed for it. Given how few new melodies were in S3 Part 2;s music, I think this should be clear. Especially now that we're going into yet another season. To summarize, I think Yamamoto's work here is a result of three conditions that just happened to line up perfectly. The change in narrative, which the new composer style reflects. Sawano being busy. And Sawano being burned out with AoT. Now personally I still believe we're going to get at least one new original Sawano track with variations of it for the big climax moments this arc, and he may compose more music for the 2nd half of this 16-episode season, since that's technically a new arc. But we'll see. As a whole though, I'm satisfied with what I've heard from Kohta Yamamoto in this first episode.

The last point to make in regards to the sound is Masafumi Mima who, apart from Sawano, the voice cast, and some freelancers, is the only one from the previous seasons' staff members to return here. And once again, his work here is absolutely phenomenal. The mixing and usage of sound effects in this episode was stellar and truly felt like I was watching a war movie. It enhanced the action tenfold and I could not want it any better. Music usage is something that goes through the director (Yuichiro Hayashi), but ultimately the sound director is the one who implements the track (instrument layering/stem editing) and does the mixing. The usage of Kohta Yamamoto's music here was very well done, and although the track from the PV repeated quite a bit, it didn't get repetitive at all. Also, the sound director remaining consistent here means we got to keep things like the titan transformation sound effects, which may be a small thing but was very welcome and added to the whole consistency.

Opening/Ending

I'm gonna wait until Shinsei Kamattechan releases the full version of the opening in a single or album to fully judge the song, but boy do I love this opening. Although I'm not sure if the TV-size version is my favorite AoT opening yet, I have to say that it's without a doubt the most fitting OP this show has had until this point. It perfectly showcases the themes of war that this arc focuses on and has this lowkey disturbing eerie vibe with the dissonant chords and mixing of the vocals that feels just as "mysterious" and "tense" as the show itself. I love it so much, honestly. Now, Isayama was a fan of Shinsei Kamattechan prior to them doing the S2 ED, and was the one who got them on-board to do it. Although that song isn't really my thing it's also a perfect fit, which leads me to believe that Isayama himself most likely chose the band again, namely to do this OP. And it's fantastic. I love the song. The visuals also have a very distinct style with all the colors and white backgrounds and I love how it's more metaphorical and symbolic (I guess "abstract" as well?) rather than flat-out just spoiling everything like the last arc's OP did.

The ED by Yuko Ando is fantastic. The first time I listened to the full song on its own I couldn't stop getting chills. Love the production aspects of the song and it's just really nice altogether. The visuals are quite interesting especially towards the end and I also like them a lot. Not much else to say about the ED. It's amazing. Go listen to it.

Conclusion

As a whole, I kept my expectations extremely low prior to the premiere despite my hype. As a result of that, not only were they exceeded, I was absolutely blown away by this first episode in pretty much every way. It may still be too early to judge, but from what has been shown here so far, I am absolutely looking forward to see MAPPA adapt the rest of this amazing story, or about as far as they can get with 16 episodes.

[sinfulserpents]

Excuse me Miss

single dad! steve x teacher! reader / modern! au

synopsis: steve harrington thought he was doing quite well for a single dad – he just didn’t think his little angel of a daughter would ever get in trouble at school, but damn was he glad that she did. 

warnings: none that i know of as of right now

word count: 3k

Please let me know if you want a possible part two :”)

Lillian Harrington was an angel. 

While he never pictured himself as a father at a mere twenty-years-old, Steve felt like he had the whole fathering thing under control. It had been five years since he first held his little girl in his arms and his ex-girlfriend left him standing in an empty hospital room after explaining that she ‘wasn’t ready.’

It was hard at first, and he was angry at her for leaving him and their daughter alone - but, as the years passed and Lilly grew; he knew he wouldn’t have had the situation any other way.

The little girl with a flurry of brown hair and honey eyes stole everyones hearts - she couldn’t have been more perfect. Lilly loved to help her dad as much as she could; cooking, cleaning, brushing her own teeth - because "I’m a big girl, daddy!”

Not only was she an absolute gem at home, Lilly was perfect at school - amazing grades, perfect attendance; always getting praised and complimented by teachers and other parents – which is why when Steve received the phone call that he needed to meet with her teacher as soon as possible, he panicked. 

With heavy steps, Steve rushed through the gates of Lilly’s school, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He had left work early to check on his daughter as soon as the word “urgent” passed the lips of the office secretary.

“Hi, excuse me ma’am,” he stuttered, running a nervous hand through his hair as he offered the amber haired lady at the front desk a smile. “You called about my daughter, Lillian Harrington-”

Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by a smooth voice and body standing behind his – causing him to swivel on the balls of his feet to face the figure of a woman who was offering him a soft look.

“Mr Harrington?”

“Yes that’s me,” he offered you a hand to shake, smiling when you took his calloused palm in your soft one. “Please call me Steve.”

“Right, Steve. I’m Lilly’s teacher; Miss Y/L/N, please follow me.”

With a small nod of your head, you led Steve into one of the rooms in the building - his eyes instantly locking on his little girl who was sniffling and had her head hung, while her little legs kicked back and forth; too short to reach the ground under her chair. 

“Lils?” Steve whispered, kneeling down so he could place a finger under his daughters chin; lifting her head so her eyes met his. 

Steve let out a gentle sigh when he saw Lilly’s glassy eyes, her bottom lip trembling as little hiccups echoed from her throat. His thumbs delicately ran under her eyes; wiping away the tears that had left their tracks down her rosy cheeks.

“What’s wrong baby?” He muttered, pulling her closer to his chest when she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed. “Lilly, baby, what happened?”

“I didn’t mean to do it daddy, he just called me dumb and I-”

Hushing her whimpers as she began to uncontrollably cry, Steve rubbed small hearts onto Lilly’s back - a method that has always soothed her from the moment she was born. 

Lifting his little girl so she was resting on his hip, her head still buried in the crook of his neck – he turned to look at you as you stood watching the scene unfold. 

With furrowed eyebrows, Steve nodded his head towards you slightly. “What exactly happened?”

Steve watched as you sighed and offered him a sympathetic smile, leaning against the table in the middle of the room; before you pulled out a little pink slip.

“The class has this project for English where they have to write a story in a pair,” you began to explain, walking over to him and handing over the little pink sheet of paper. “Lilly was paired with James, the boy she sits next to. They were discussing ideas and planning it like I instructed, Lilly said that James called her dumb because she wanted to include a unicorn in their story.

James apparently called her some nasty names and Lilly kicked him off his chair. While I’m proud of her for sticking up for herself, physical violence can’t be tolerated. You do understand that, Mr Harrington? Lilly will need to stay inside for a couple of lunchtimes.”

Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, Steve nodded reading the paper you had given him. 

“It’s a letter suggesting that Lilly should write her own story at home, however I won’t need to grade her on group participation,” you explained.

“What happened to the other kid? The one who called my daughter dumb.”

“I can assure you that he will be punished accordingly,” you nodded. “You have a strong little girl, Mr Harrington.”

Letting out a chuckle, Steve gave Lilly a kiss on her forehead as she finally lifted her head to look at the two adults. “Yeah, I have raised a little badass.”

“Daddy!” Lilly squealed, eyes widening in shock. “That’s a naughty word!”

Steve’s smile widened when he heard you let out a laugh at the shocked girl, Lilly’s smile finally breaking out when she saw you laughing. Wiggling as a signal for Steve to put her down, Lilly’s little legs carried her over to you as you bent down to embrace her.

“I’m sorry for being mean Miss Y/L/N,” she sheepishly apologised, pulling away from you.

“There’s no need to apologise Lilly.”

Raising back to your feet, you watched fondly as Lilly’s little grubby hand grabbed her dads as you began to walk them out of room and to the front door of the office.  

“It was lovely to meet you Mr Harrington, considering the circumstances,” you smiled, opening the door to the pair of them. 

“Please, like I offered before; call me Steve, Miss Y/L/N.” 

“Well, in that case; call me Y/N,” you beamed, and Steve had to place his hand on his chest to make sure his heart was still beating at the action. Looking down at the girl clinging to his arm, you gave a small wave. “I’m looking forward to reading your unicorn story Lilly, I’ll see you both soon.”

With one final wave at the pair that began their trek back to Steve’s car - you made your way back inside and Steve felt himself smiling like an idiot as he buckled his little girl in.

“Daddy?”

Head perking up at his daughters small voice, Steve gave her a questioning look. “Yes, baby?”

“Do you think Miss Y/L/N is pretty?”

Letting his jaw drop slightly at Lilly’s question, Steve could only chuckle and nod, offering her a ‘sure baby, she’s pretty.”

“I know! She’s pretty like a princess!” 

An involuntary snicker passed his lips at his daughters exclamation, Steve shutting the backseat car door; taking a deep, shaky breath as he shook his head; pushing his hair away from his forehead. 

Lilly wasn’t wrong - you were pretty like a princess.

                                                          ✧✧✧

A groan left Steve’s throat as he pushed past the doors to the school office once again - it was the third time this week that they had called him insisting that he immediately came into the school because Lilly had gotten in trouble.

He didn’t know what was going on with his little girl and it was causing him to freak out. She was normally a saint, so he didn’t know what was happening, causing her to do a complete three-sixty and have this attitude towards school.

Your head lifted from the piles of papers on your desk at the sound of knocks on the door, signalling for Steve to enter the classroom. Lilly was sat on the floor, colouring a picture of some sort and didn’t spare her disappointed father so much a glance which caused Steve’s chest to tighten.

She always rushed over to him when she saw him.

“Steve, please have a seat,” you gestured to the chairs in front of the desk, looking towards the little girl who was paying no mind to the pair of you.

“What did she do this time?”

“She broke another child’s crayons during free time and didn’t hand up her assignment.”

“The one about the unicorn?” Steve questioned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “She said that she handed it up.”

“Unfortunately not,” you gestured to the piled of books to your left. “This is everyone else’s stories, they’re all graded - I’m just waiting for Lilly’s.”

Running a hand down his face, Steve let out an exhausted sigh - eyes flitting between yours and his little girls figure. “I’ll make sure that she gets it to you by tomorrow. I’m so sorry that’s she’s been a terror lately, she’s not normally like this.”

“I know,” you sympathetically nodded, also looking towards Lilly who was still not paying either of you any attention. “Can I ask you a personal question, Steve?”

“Uh- yeah, go for it.”

“Is Lilly’s mum in the picture or is it just you?”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath before exhaling, his heart sinking at the thought of Lilly’s mother. He had successfully moved on from her, but it still hurt to know that his little girl was growing up without a mother. 

“It’s just-” Steve nervously rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, before nodding towards you. “It’s just me.”

“Well I can say that you’re doing an amazing job at raising her by yourself. I don’t think Lilly is rebelling against you, she’s probably just not used to having kids ask her why she doesn’t have a mum. She’s feeling different.” 

“So what do you suggest I do?” 

“Show her that she is different - but it’s not a bad thing,” You explained, your voice somehow instantly calming Steve’s sinking nerves. “Show her that she just gets double the love from you. She adores you Steve - I can tell that she idolises you.”

A little gobsmacked, Steve offered you a timid, “thank you so much.” 

“No need to thank me,” you shrugged, as Steve began to stand - getting ready to leave. Coaxing Lilly away from her drawing of what looked like a horse, he lifted her to her feet and put her backpack over her arms. 

“I’ll make sure that she has that story to you by tomorrow, thank you for informing me. It was great talking to you again.” Steve mumbled as he walked past you and out the door, turning around while you gave Lilly a wave.

“That will be great Steve and like I said; there’s no need to thank me. See you soon.”

With one final smile, Steve took Lilly’s hand in his as they both walked away.

                                                         ✧✧✧

“Daddy can I please get the chocolate one?”

“Are you sure Lils?” Steve questioned the little girl who was pointing a tiny finger up at the big sign. He had promised her ice-cream once she handed up her story and Lilly practically dragged him over to the ice-cream truck the first chance she got; her pigtails becoming lopsided as she bounced.

“Yes daddy! Chocolate please!”

Ordering two chocolate cones, Steve waited until the stall owner passed them to him, giving Lilly hers before turning around and almost knocking into the person behind him. 

A fist grabbed his hand that was holding his cone so it didn’t fall to the ground, and Steve’s eyes darted to the person in front of him - softening when he caught sight of you.

“Steve, hey the-” you grinned, before a loud voice interrupted you.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

You gaze left Steve’s and he watched as you smiled just as brightly towards Lilly who was waving at you with her free hand - her tongue poking out to lick her ice-cream.

“Hey there, Lilly,” you chuckled, before gesturing for the three of you to move aside so the rest of the line could order.

“I got ice-cream!” Lilly stated, excitement obvious in her tone as you questioned her.

“What flavour did you get?”

“Chocolate!” Lilly lifted her cone to you so you could see it. “Daddy said we could get ice-cream once I handed up my assignment.”

“I bet it’s delicious. I actually just finished reading your story; I absolutely loved it.”

“Really?”

With a firm nod, you softly fixed Lilly’s right pigtail that was falling out - Steve felt his heart rate speed up at the sight. “Really. It was the best one.”

“Daddy! Did you hear that? Mine was the best!”

“I did baby,” Steve couldn’t help but light up at the sight of his daughter jumping up and down in joy. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Daddy, can Miss Y/L/N come to the playground with us?”

Steve’s breath hitched at the question, peering over at you as you raised your eyebrows as a silent way of questioning him.

“If she wants to baby, it’s up to her - if she’s not busy of course.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you took Lilly’s free hand that she was holding out to you. “I think I can take a couple of hours off marking assignments to go to the playground with you.”

Steve couldn’t help the butterflies that filled his stomach at the sight of Lilly rushing along side you; dragging you with her to the playground - him trailing behind the both of you. 

Steve had to admit that over the last couple of weeks, meeting you at school to talk about his daughters nuisance behaviours - he had developed a school boy crush on you. 

He adored the way you spoke with such elegance - you never once got mad at him when he ranted about something Lilly had done, never once told him that his points were invalid; you just let him talk about Lilly and mouth off about why he was confused with her behaviour. 

After a while Steve noticed why Lilly did what she did. His little girl would always lift her head when she heard them both laugh; she’d somehow always find a way to bring you up in casual conversation with things like “miss Y/L/N said that she had a bunny once” and “miss Y/L/N ate a salad today for lunch.” 

His little girl was trying to set him up with her teacher, and it wasn’t until she pleaded for Steve to ask you out with a pronounced “just one date, daddy!” that he realised he really did like you. 

And as badly as Steve wanted to reprimand her, he also was slightly enjoying it. He loved the way that you would watch him with such intensity while he told you about his day at work, or how you never once invalidated his feelings about failing Lilly; only ever offering him support and advice.

Steve often found himself leaving your classroom with a bright smile on his face - his head up in the clouds as he thought about your smile and they way your nose crinkled when he made you laugh. 

He was completely and utterly head over heels for you.

But Steve knew he couldn’t possible pursue you - you were his daughters teacher. It would be wrong, wouldn’t it? Plus there was no way you could like someone like him; a single dad who worked two jobs just to put his daughter through school, a roof over their heads and food on the table. He was a mess.

“Daddy stay here with miss Y/L/N, I’m going to show you a trick!”

Giving Lilly a thumbs up as she sprinted over to the slide, his head turned in your direction when he heard a snort followed by a couple of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” He smirked, heart swelling at the sight of you trying to cover your obvious laughs. You were endearing.

“N-nothing!”

“No! C’mon, tell me!”

“It’s just,” you bursted out into another fit of small giggles as before you could even complete your sentence and it quickly had Steve chuckling along with you. “Y-you seriously just gave Lilly a thumbs up.”

“That’s what has you laughing?”

“It was odd!” You defended yourself, hands raising in defence before you began clapping causing Steve to turn back to where his daughter was taking a bow.

“What did she do?” He whispered to you, clapping along with you as Lilly began to run over to the swings. 

“She just went down the slide like an absolute pro - I can’t believe you missed it!” You dramatised, placing a hand on your chest. “You missed your daughter pull off one of the hardest tricks of all time, Steve! How disgraceful!”

Giving your shoulder a gentle shove, Steve couldn’t help the grin that was growing on his face just by being in your presence.“Oh, stop it!”

A calming silence settled between the both of you as you watched Lilly swing as high as her little movements would take her - Steve knowing it would only be a moment before she called him over to swing her. 

“So... can I ask you a personal question? ” He began, hands pushing into the pockets of his jeans as you eagerly nodded at him. “Miss Y/L/N, do you have a boyfriend?”

“I can’t say that I do, Mr Harrington. Why the sudden curiosity?”

Just one date. 

“I was just trying to figure out if I would be allowed to ask you out.” Steve’s nervous eyes found yours as you sheepishly looked up at him - his hand anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is that your way of asking me on a date, Steve?”

“What if I am? What would you say, Y/N?”

“Yes.” 

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat and he had to ask you again to repeat your response before he finally believed it; muttering a timid “okay, great! Brilliant!” That had you both flushing; Steve’s cheeks blushing a tint of pink.

“Well, I should really be getting back to the stack of papers awaiting me back home,” you rocked back and forth on your feet, playing with the rings on your fingers as you felt yourself heat up with Steve’s intense stare. “When you’re ready for that date, you know where to find me.”

Steve watched as you retreated away from him, waving to Lilly who was running up to her father - a little pep in your step.

“Did you do it daddy?”

“Yeah, baby,” Steve smiled, lifting Lilly up in his arms; booping her nose with his - causing her to crinkle her adorable face. 

“I did it.”

                                                        ✧✧✧

THIS STILL SOMEHOW CAME OUT TERRIBLE AND I LOVE THE CONCEPT SO IM SAD :”(

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

Ownership - Chapter 20 (A Kylo RenxOC AU)

Cora Ardmore and Kylo Ren work for rival companies, but they don’t know that until after they spend the night together. Once their identities are revealed to each other it’s a question of who will cave first?

This fic is mostly porn, pure kinky porn.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Warnings: No Cora in this chapter, Violence, Guns, Alcohol, Threats/Threatening behaviour, Language, Armitage Hux is always a warning 

Chapter 20

Kylo Ren

Armitage and I had gone back to his room after opening the accounts. We ordered dinner, debating what to do with the rest of our time in Puerto Rico. Before we got any further, there was a knock at the door. Armitage and I exchanged confused glances; we’d ordered dinner not even five minutes ago. It couldn’t be here that quickly. Armitage got to his feet and answered the door, taking a thick A4 envelope from someone. Closing the door, he looked the package over. It wasn’t labelled or addressed. “You didn’t order anything, did you?” I asked.

Before Armitage could answer my phone rang in my pocket. I couldn’t help but feel we were being watched. Snoke came up on the caller I.D and Armitage shot me a looking, telling me to hurry up and answer it. Hitting the answer button, I then put the call on loudspeaker. “Hey, I’m guessing you got my earlier text,” I answered. “I did. A package should arrive soon for you and Armitage. I have one more job before you come back tomorrow.” Armitage tore open the package and tipped the contents on the table. A pistol and silencer clanged against the hardwood table. My stomach dropped at the sight.

“We’ve received the package, sir,” Armitage spoke. “Good. There’s an investor that’s threatening to pull out and throw his weight around. I think he needs a little reminder or persuasion on why he should stay on board. I’ll send the info over, but I trust the two of you to get the job done. The package will help with persuasion, it’s up to you two how much you use it.” “Of course. We’ll ensure the investor calls when we change their mind.” “Good, then the both of you will get your first payment.”

Snoke hung up, but even with him no longer listening in didn’t feel an ounce of relief. I’d had a feeling there would be something else, but I didn’t know if I could go through with something like this. Cora definitely wouldn’t approve. “This is fucked. I didn’t sign up for this,” I spoke, clearly panicked. “So, you’re going to fail at the first hurdle? The going gets tough and you’re just going to give up? You wouldn’t want to disappoint Cora, now would you? You wanted her to write this story and you’re going to deny it to her?” Armitage responded, clearly annoyed. I shot him a glare, hating that he was right, hating that he was using Cora against me.

“She can’t find out about this,” I told him firmly. Armitage raised an eyebrow, smirking at me, “And why not? Honesty is the key to any relationship, isn’t it?” Before I could argue back with him, my phone vibrated with a new text message. Opening it, I read the message from Snoke aloud. “The investor can be found at room 50. Ask for Dryden Vos.” Everything was making sense now. Snoke had seemed pretty eager for Armitage and I to be here this weekend and obviously it wasn’t just to open an account. He knew the investor would be here.

Armitage still didn’t seem phased by any of this, “I’ll do the talking. Seeing as your much better at looking intimidating.” “None of this bothers you?” “I know better than to trust Snoke. I thought you would know that by now too.” My jaw clenched at his comment. If I trusted Snoke then I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be doing all of this to put him behind bars. But I was afraid of how far I would need to go to bring Snoke to justice. “You know we have to do this. Not just for the story, but to assure Snoke that we can be trusted. Besides the guns clearly just for show. That being said, I would advise you to wear gloves if you brought them,” Armitage took a softer approach this time.

“Why would I bring gloves to Puerto Rico?” I asked as if it were a trick question. “Well, you’ll be bringing them for any future trips. Do not touch anything.” Armitage headed for the bedroom, returning a few minutes later with a pair of black leather gloves. Once he’d put them on, he attached the silencer to the end of the pistol and hid the firearm in his jacket. “Let’s get this over and done with now,” Armitage declared. Following him out of the room and through the hotel, I remained as calm as I could. He was right; I had to do this. So long as I didn’t have to kill anyone, I could do this. Once we reached room 50, Armitage knocked on the door and we waited. Armitage was still calm and collected whilst I was visibly anxious.

The door opened to a tall, middle-aged male in a bathrobe. He righted a strand of ashy blonde hair whilst his other hand nursed a glass of alcohol. He looked at us expectantly with blue eyes. But the most striking of his features were the scars across his face. “Yes?” He asked, his accent telling us he was British. “Dryden Vos?” Armitage asked. “Yes, what do you want?” He was growing more impatient. “We’re here to discuss your investment with The First Order.” Dryden rolled his eyes but let us in, “I suppose I’ll hear you out. Not that there’s anything you can offer me, which would change my mind.”

Stepping into the suite, I realized it was one of the private ones. Complete with a pool that overlooked the beach. Thankfully Dryden was alone, the privacy would be very helpful. Dryden sat down on the black couch, making himself comfortable. He motioned for us to take a seat. He seemed to have been expecting this encounter, and something about that didn’t sit right with me. Armitage sat whilst I remained standing. “So Snoke couldn’t be bothered to talk to me himself and sent the two of you?” Dryden asked. “He’s a very busy man. Your investment, if very important to him, that’s why he made sure someone could discuss your decision with you,” Armitage replied. “Well, I’ll tell you what I told him. I’m no longer interested in working with a man that uses my investment money for his personal uses and not company uses. He’s lucky I don’t take him to court.”

An understandable reason to pull out of company investment. If it weren’t for the circumstances, I would have commended Dryden for cutting ties with Snoke. But I couldn’t. “And what proof do you have of this exactly?” Armitage asked. “I know he’s using the money to fund his personal projects and I have no interest in terrorism.” “Well, in that case, there’s not much more I can say to convince you to change your mind.” Dryden smiled triumphantly. Armitage glanced my way and nodded. He was the negotiator, and I was the intimidator. Grabbing Dryden by the front of his robe, I pulled him to his feet and broke his nose with my free fist. The sound he made was a mix of surprise and pain. I forced myself to keep going. A broken nose would not be a reason to change his mind.

I brought my knee up into his stomach, winding him before shoving him to the floor. “Let us know when you’ve changed your mind, Dryden. I’d hate it if we added to the scars on your face, or worse,” Armitage smiled. Taking Dryden by his robe once more, I dragged him over to the pool. He kicked helplessly, trying to pry my hand free. I didn’t want to drag this out any longer than I had too. I would not take pleasure in beating a man senseless. When we reached the pool’s edge, I forced him onto his front and shoved his face into the still water. Armitage followed, pulling his phone from his pocket. Dryden kicked and tried to push himself up from the pool’s edge until I added more of my weight.

After thirty seconds, I pulled Dryden up by his hair so he could breathe once more. He gasped and breathed in large lung fulls of air. “Changed your mind yet?” Armitage asked him. Dryden didn’t respond quick enough, so I forced him under once more. After roughly waiting forty-five seconds, I pulled him out again. This time he managed a response. “O-okay,” he breathed with difficulty. I kept my grip on him just in case, but gave him a few moments to catch his breath. Finally, he could manage more words. “O-okay, you made your point. I’ll stay,” Dryden said between coughs. “Good. Snoke will want to hear this, and you can tell him yourself,” Armitage replied.

Armitage called Snoke and put the phone on loudspeaker, holding it in front of Dryden’s face. On the fifth ring, Snoke answered. “Armitage? Everything alright?” Snoke asked. There was a pause before Dryden spoke, “its Vos. My apologies for the mixup. I’ll be remaining an investor.” “Good. I’m glad to hear it. And just to make sure it was just a mixup, you can invest a further fifty thousand in the next half an hour.” Dryden’s face dropped further, “of course.” “I’m glad it was just a simple misunderstanding. Look forward to hearing from you soon.”

There was a click as Snoke hung up before Armitage locked his phone and returned it to his jacket pocket. Our work here was done. Knowing he wasn’t a threat, I let go of Dryden and got to my feet. Dryden begrudgingly pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up his banking app. Armitage and I watched as he transferred the money before, finally, we left. Once out of the room a wave of nausea washed over me at my actions. “You did what you had to Ren. Theres no point in letting guilt eat away at you when I’m sure that’s not going to be the worst of it,” Armitage attempted to reassure me. That didn’t do anything to make me feel better. I was still worrying what Cora would think of me she found out. Not that I should care, it’s not like we were actually together. I guess I just didn’t want to do anything that might fuck up the story and turn her away from me.

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld​​​​​​​​, @sweetsec-93​​​​​​​​, @cltex84​​​​​​​​, @jana-banana-fana​​​​​​​​, @jynzandtonic​​​​​​​​, @neeharlow​​​​​​​​​

[hopeatermeetsgodzilla]

Chapter 6

Emma took a deep breath, fiddling with the can of pepper spray she kept with her in case of self-defense as she eyed the helicopter pilot. It was now or never. Right now, they were on way to San Francisco, Serizawa having given Emma the permission to leave due to her daughter going missing. The plan, of course, was all other.

“Hey.” The scientist started, putting a hand on the pilot’s helmet and getting it off.

The pilot turned toward her, consterned. “Ma’am, I need that- ACK!” Emma sprayed the pepper spray in his face, blinding him before she reversed her grip and hit him as hard as she could in the face with the can.

The pilot fell to the ground, unconscious as Emma took his place. She immediately changed course, heading for Antartica. She took a deep breath. Hang on Madison, I’m coming!

-

Madison quickly slipped out of her cell, shivering and pulling her sweater closer to her. She had memorized the guard’s rounds, and they hadn’t taken her hairpins out, and she needed to figure out where she was.

She quickly walked across the base, looking around. They were multiple sideway hourglasses symbols stamped across the corridors, the word ‘monarch’ in all caps written underneath it. A few had colorful tags reading ‘Titan Liberation Front’ across them, the paint clearly more recent than the symbols. She just needed to find a map of the place.

She quickly hid as a pair of guards passed by, holding her breath until they were gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, and saw a door hanging half-open. She looked around her, and made a beeline for it.

As Madison hid behind the door, having heard guards coming by, she looked at the inside of the room. And nearly threw up. There was a small mountain of corpses here, most of them starting to freeze over from the cold and decompose from the lack of care. “Oh, god...”

“Well, what are you doing here?” Madison jumped, turning toward the the voice and shrinking in terror at what she saw. A strange, towering golden spirit with three pairs of pitch black eyes and what looked like an upside-down crescent moon on it’s forehead. It towered over her, tendril-like hair moving behind it’s head as if they were underwater.

And looking at it filled Madison with a bone-deep, primal fear. “Wh- What are you?” The spirit’s bell-like giggle did not do anything to assuage that fear.

“Why, I’m Ghidorah, of course!” The spirit informed her, a clawed hand attached to a long arm suddenly manifesting as it did so. The spirit’s claw tilted Madison’s head up, forcing her to make direct eye contact with it as an electric shock ran through her body. “And you would be?”

(Ichi would think about the fact that he could physically interact with this tiny human in his intangible spirit form later. Probably between getting out of here and killing the weak king. For now, he had to play a role, and if he had to defend the only human who had the good sense to fear him from the idiots who did not to play it convincingly, then so be it.)

“I- I’m Madison Russell.”

“Madison Russell...” Ghidorah tilted it’s head, it’s eyes blinking in quick succession. “Interesting. So you’re the human child... I thought you were supposed to be in a cage?”

The girl steeled herself. “I escaped. And I’m not going back until I know what’s going on! For example: what are you!? A ghost?” She whispered-yell.

Ghidorah giggled again. “No, not exactly. You are aware of what astral projection is, yes?” Madison nodded. “As for what I am, I believe the closest word you humans have is ‘god’.”

“... I see. And why are you talking to me?”

(The little human was much more wary and perceptive than the others, but she was also younger. Exploiting that should be easy, he just needed to channel his inner San, maybe cut down on the lying a bit, and think about the deplorable state his brothers’ psyches were in when he re-established the connection-)

“I’m just trying to get out of my icy prison, along with my brothers.” Ghidorah started, its eyes taking a downturned quality to them. Was it... sad? “Other gods, jealous of our power and bond, tricked us, and froze us within the ice of this place. We just want to get out and feel the sun on our face again.” It seemed to cheer up at that. “And that’s where you come in.”

Madison lowered a guard just a little bit. “Okay... how?”

“I asked the humans living here to help me free myself, but I had no idea they would kidnap you! Honest!” Ghidorah reassured her, claws grabbing her wrists and dragging her up. “But one of your parents- the female one- has come here to free you. Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait, my mom’s here!?” Madison exclaimed, baffled. All she knew about her mother’s current job was that it was 1) governmental, and 2) very secret. Did this have something to do with it?

Ghidorah giggled once again. “Yes! And she is waiting for you! Let’s go!” The specter took a wisp like form, some of it’s tendrils wrapped around Madison’s arms, dragging her behind it and outside of that horrible room.

She stumbled a bit, but followed behind it, the two speeding through corridors. Finally, they arrived before a locked door, Ghidorah taking back a more humanoid form and phasing through it. When the door opened a few minutes later, Madison rushed past the man that had opened it, throwing herself at her mother. “Mom!”

“Madison!” Emma exclaimed, hugging her daughter as tightly as she could. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“I- I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Madison reassured her mother, sending a doubtful look at Ghidorah, who seemed to be in an argument with the old man that had opened the door, about whether or not it should’ve brought her here. “Do you know what that is?” She asked her mother, pointing at the specter.

“I... believe that would be one of the Antartica Titans.” Emma started. “We don’t know a lot about the them, but apparently, they have psychic powers.”

“Is that how you’re calling us, now?” Ghidorah asked, turning toward the two Russell with an inquisitive head tilt.

“I-” Emma turned toward her daughter, who nodded. Madison didn’t know how, but she knew Ghidorah was sincere with at least this question. “Yes. It was the most appropriate word we could find to describe your kind.”

Ghidorah’s eyes narrowed, but the specter otherwise didn’t change. “Where did that word come from?”

“It’s how the parents of the Gods are called, in Greek mythology. It’s also used as an adjective for ‘big’.” Emma explained, the spirit straightening it’s posture and eyes widening into their normal form. 

(The predecessors of those who rule the universe? Oh, Ichi liked that one, at least enough to allow the mistake that he and the weak king were of the same breed. He’d have to remember it, his brothers would surely like it too.)

“I see.” The specter finally said, a hint of satisfaction in it’s voice. “Yes, Titan will do nicely.”

“Well,” the old man suddenly started, Emma hugging her daughter just a bit tighter as he spoke. “Now that you have your daughter back, where’s the ORCA? Because I don’t see anything.”

“The ORCA,” Emma started, getting out the device Florès had given her out of her bag “is right here.”

Madison watched as the old man raised an unimpressed eyebrow, while Ghidorah tilted it’s head in confusion. “I thought it was bigger.” The specter commented.

The old man snarled. “Do you think I’m a fool, Dr. Russell?”

“Well, seeing as you’re trying to free three creatures no one knows anything about, and that you had perfectly good hostages you decided to kill before the time was up forcing you to abduct my daughter, yes.” Emma deadpanned, face not showing any emotions. “And- it’s a prototype for the ORCA’s final model I stole from Florès.” She explained. “He created it to make sure he could effectively downsize something as complex as the ORCA.”

“We’ll see about that. You two, follow me.” The old man told Emma and Madison, the three getting out of the room. They quickly made their way to an observation chamber, the window giving them an excellent view on a gigantic, seemingly glowing glacier where three shadows were visible. “Well? What are you waiting for? You want your daughter back, don’t you?”

Emma narrowed her eyes, but turned on the device, and turned the frequency up to the point nothing else could be heard as everyone looked at the glacier. In the suspense of waiting, no one noticed a terrifying smile etching itself onto Ghidorah just as he faded away.

-

A sound burrowed itself deep in the ice, artificial and deafening and awakening the bodies of the three creatures stuck within it.

{Brothers? It’s time.}

Three pairs of red eyes opened.

[Fucking finally.]

Fingers twitched, creating small cracks in the ice.

(Alright! On three?)

Small, microscopic cracks spread, reaching the surface of the glacier.

{[(One...)]}

The microscopic contact with the outside was all they need to start absorbing energy.

{[(Two...)]}

Energy flowed from outside to their heart and to their fingertips.

{[(THREE!)]}

They released the energy, and the ice exploded in a flash of lightning.