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deleteddewewted · 3 years

Note

Ok, this is my last request, I swear and scout's honor...I'm sorry for bothering you and being annoying, please forgive me!

Uhm...how about a fic or headcanons on Monoma with a female s/o who's short (as in, 4' 11"...I think our boy is 5' 7", but I could be wrong) and is a coffee-addict, and it gets to a point where Monoma's worried for her addiction and health, so he tries to keep it away from her for a few days, please? He can also like, tease her about it and play the height bully since she's a shrimp compared to him when she tries to get her coffee back?

Like last time, I don't mind if what you write is sfw or nsfw. I just need more blonde copycat boi in my life, lol! Thank you! 😊 I hope you have a good day/night/weekend!

I’M SO HAPPY YOU CAME BACK!!! Don’t ever feel like your annoying, i love hearing from you.

It took me a bit to make this, sorry about that. Hope you enjoy!

Caffeine Rush

Monoma x F! Reader

Note: H/c (your hair color)

W: Mentions of NSFW, Monoma Being Absolutely in Love With You

TW: Vomit, Addiction

Monoma’s favorite thing to do each morning is to wake up to your beautiful face. You always tell him that it isn’t but he gladly disagrees with you because you’re wrong. He would watch you sleep for a few minutes, hours if the day before was truly exhausting for you, and just sigh like the lovesick fool he was. That peace becoming disrupted when the alarm in his phone would go off indicating the beginning of the weekday.

“My love, wake up.” Monoma leaned down to shower you with kisses, even as you swatted him away with your hand. The attempts that were made to cover yourself with the blanket didn’t stop him from attacking you with hugs. Warm and inviting rest but quickly changing to panic as he lifted you from the bed and walked out to the common area blanket included. Your other classmates were already up doing their usual morning routines. They found your relationship with Monoma adorable, concerning but adorable. The way Monoma brags about you and your achievement was sickening.

“Nei! Put me down, please. I was comfortable and warm.” Monoma laughed at the whining and placed you down on the couch.

“No can do my love. You need fuel in that body of yours. A healthy meal makes a healthy body. A healthy body makes a healthy mind.” You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends’ poetic speech and made yourself comfortable on the couch, laying down and covering yourself again with the blanket he wrapped you in.

“What do want for breakfast, my love?”

“Give me coffee, no sugar. If there are any muffins, give me one please.” Monomas posture deflated a little to the request.

“Coffee, again?” He questioned. You nodded your head and drifted back to sleep. The rest of the class watched as Monoma begrudgingly made the coffee you requested. The entire time he was mumbling something under his breath, something about how you loved the tar drink more than him.

You thanked him once he handed over your drink while Monoma sat down next to you with his meal. He leaned into you and ate in peace. He kept grumbling from time to time and chewed violently when he took another bite.

“Monoma? What are you doing?” You asked him.

“Nothing.” Was his only response before continuing to shovel food into his mouth. Once finished, he took your empty cup and his plate to the sink to wash. You on the other hand had other plans.

“Neito, I’m going out. I’ll see you later.” Monoma said goodbye to you and let you go. He knew what you were planning on doing and he wasn’t happy about it. Honestly, it was ridiculous how much you seemed to depend on it. It was the weekend, so there was no harm in leaving campus.

You got dressed back in your dorm room and said your goodbyes to your classmates who were still in the common area. As you headed into the city you went straight to your favorite shop. It was a small business run by a college kid who had too much money and too much time to burn. You weren’t about to complain, the coffee was good and the environment was pleasant to be in. Once there you ordered your usual coffee variant and sat down to enjoy it, not being aware that you were being watched the entire time.

Monoma was fuming. Another cup of coffee right away? You just drank your first a few minutes ago, why would you need another one? It wasn’t like you didn’t work hard, that wasn’t the problem. You were dedicated to training and your relationship with him. He understands that he could be a hassle sometimes and he’s very grateful for the opportunity to be with you, but this was just ridiculous. He didn’t want to destroy your piece but it had to be done.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” You turned towards the voice and watched as your boyfriend walked up to you. He was marching, an interesting choice but he was him so it wasn’t out of character.

“Hi, Nei is there a problem? Also, why did you follow me?” You asked amused. Monoma didn’t bother to sit down once he was next to you instead, he opted to bend down to look at you. He wasn’t happy.

“I followed you to see if you were going to buy another cup of coffee. Do you want to guess what happened Y/n? Hmm?” You giggled at him and took a sip from your drink.

“I bought coffee.”

“Yes, you bought coffee!” The other customers in the shop turned to look at the scene Monoma was making and the sudden attention filled you with embarrassment. You didn’t think Monoma would make a huge deal out of something so meaningless.

“Nei, cut it out!” You whisper yelled at him. You tried pulling him down so he would sit, instead, Monoma grabbed your cup and your hand. He dragged you out of the shop and walk with you to the train station.

“Where are we going now?” Monoma didn’t bother to respond to you. He just stared ahead of him and kept your coffee cup away from you. Once the train arrived he practically picked you up and took you inside. It was a bit empty so he was able to find seats for the both of you, he wrapped an arm around you as he kept the cup in between his legs and out of your reach. He pulled you up once you got to the correct stop and took you to the entrance of the mall.

“Whats this Nei? A last-minute date?” You teased. Monomas face flushed and just ignored your stare.

“We haven’t gone on a date in some time-”

“We had one yesterday.”

“So I thought that this would be nice and I also get to spoil you, so don’t complain.” He took your hand and brought you inside.

It was bustling with life. People walking around looking for things that they need and buying others that they don’t. It was a pleasant scene yet your body would disagree with you. The throbbing that you felt in the front part of your skull wasn’t pleasant but it was constant. It’s been like this for a few weeks. You read that coffee could help with easing it, something about it probably the throbbing being due to some visual exposure. Monoma had taken your drink so that was no longer an option. Knowing him, he probably takes a small sip and then spits it out while berating you on how your taste buds must be dead if you didn’t react as he did.

“So where to?” You asked him. Monoma laced his hand with yours and walked you to a clothing store. He looked at different articles of clothing and asked for your input. Most of the things he picked out were simple in design or minimalist, nothing that needed consideration. Yet he asked and you being the ever caring girlfriend gave some input.

“This would look nice with um, with some light blue jeans” The throbbing in your head was beginning to get worse and it wasn’t helping that the bright light within the store was the only thing to look at. It was too much for you.

“Hey, Monoma. I need to go to the bathroom, ok?” You left Monoma in the middle of the store as he just watched you go. He spoke to you but you couldn’t hear him.

He had tried reaching for you but you were already too far for him to grab. Monoma. You called him by his last name instead of his first. In the times that you both have had arguments, you always called him by his first name no matter what the situation was. You’ve been acting odd for some time and it was worrying him. He was aware that you drank more than the recommended when it came to coffee, so it wasn’t surprising that you felt ill. Monoma was no stranger to bad habits, he was being too clingy and overly competitive. You reassured him that he wasn’t clingy and that you found it endearing more than anything. Regarding the competitiveness, he could tone it down a little bit when it came to arguing with the other hero course. He felt like he was annoying to you and that you only started dating him because you felt pity for him after he fell on his face as he was running up to you. His nose was bleeding but that didn’t stop you from kissing him on the lips and accepting his date offer. He loved you, he’s known this since his first year. Seeing you sick was upsetting, he felt like a lost boyfriend for not helping you. He tried, he hides the coffee grounds, he hides your wallet sometimes and even started having you sleep in his dorm to ensure you slept.

Monoma waited outside of the store for a moment, waiting to see if you would come back once you were done in the bathroom. You never came back which lead to him going towards the bathrooms. He was met with a line of women waiting for the bathroom and a few people waiting outside of the all gendered bathroom.

“Hello. I’m sorry to interrupt you but did you by any chance see a woman who looked ill come by here?” The person turned around to look at Monoma.

“Was it someone with h/o hair?” Monoma nodded his head and the stranger pointed at one of the bathrooms that were occupied. Monoma thanked them and knocked on the door gently.

”Y/n. It’s me, are you ok?” You tried answering but the sound of gagging and something liquid hitting the toilet was indicating that you wouldn’t answer him. Monoma quickly asked around to see who had a quirk that allowed him to help you. He found someone whose quirk allowed them to change their fingers into any key, interesting quirk, and he opened the bathroom door. When he closed it he saw you slumped over the toilet throwing up.

“Nei- I can’t- breath.” You hiccuped. Monoma pulled your hair back and rubbed your back in a soothing motion.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” You continued to throw up everything in your stomach. Almost everything that came up was liquid and smelled heavily of stomach acid with a touch of coffee. Monoma watched in horror as you emptied yourself. He felt useless. He couldn’t do anything other than making sure that your clothes stayed clean.

“Y/n, let me take you back to the dorms. You need to get checked by Recovery Girl.” You felt too dizzy to protest and just lifted your arms and had him carry you out.

On the train, Monoma draped his jacket over your head, hiding you away from any light that could worsen your headache. He kept you close, your head laying on top of his shoulder and his hand on the side of your head keeping you steady as the train rocked. Once off, he picked you up and carried you to Recovery Girl. She asked him a multitude of questions about what happened and asked him to step outside of the infirmary. She sent you to your dorm to rest with a bottle full of medicine and Monoma picked you up again to make the trip easier on you.

At your dorm, he laid you down on your bed and went down to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. You sat yourself up on your bed and took some of the liquid medicine. It was bitter yet sweet, it soothed your aching throat and helped ease your agitated stomach. When Monoma came back he crouched down in front of you, handing you the glass of water he had gotten for you.

“How do feel?” His face was showered with concern. This wasn’t uncommon for him when it came to you or any of his classmates. He didn’t like seeing you hurt nor sick, so this was overwhelming his heart a little bit.

“My throat burns a bit but I’m ok.” You smiled weakly. Monoma didn’t believe anything you were telling him but he also didn’t want to start an argument.

Monoma decided to pull you into bed and lay next to you. He covered your body with his arms around your waist as he tangled your legs with his own. He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, then placing his chin on the top of your head.

“Rest my love. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” You didn’t attempt to argue with him. Your head was hurting badly and your body was still tense from the vomiting you did earlier. You made yourself comfortable within Monomas chest and used him as an anchor. He was warm and welcoming, how couldn’t you take advantage of this.

The morning came and so did the sunlight that invaded your room. Monoma woke up ready to look at your beautiful face, a smile already forming as he imagined how you would look that morning. Ethereal as always he believes. Yet, when he opened his eyes you weren’t comfortably placed in his arms. You weren’t even in the room. He shot up from the bed and went rushing down to the common room.

“Y/n! What are you doing!?” Monoma watched you as you were seated on one of the tables. With a cup of steaming coffee. Again.

“My head hurts, the coffee helps it feel better.” Monomas eyes widened as he walked towards you.

“I understand, but couldn’t you have taken some pain medication or have at least told me?” He stood next to you and looked at how much coffee you still had left in your cup. It was at halfway. He made an executive decision and grabbed it from you.

“Neito, what are you?” You tried to reach for the cup but it was immediately raised above you.

“Nei, that isn’t funny. Give me back my coffee!” Monoma only grinds at you.

“No, it isn’t my fault you’re the shortest person in our year.” You used your quirk to try and inflict some damage onto him but to no avail. He just raised it higher.

“Nei! I swear you’re all legs and arms. How are you this tall!?” Monoma could only laugh at your silly attempts to reach for the cup. He leaned down enough for your faces to meet.

“I’ll give it back if you promise me something.”

“Sure, what is it?” Monomas grin softened around the edges. His eyes looking briefly at your lips and back to your eyes.

“For one, limit your coffee intake.” You frowned at him.

“Didn’t you just hear me? It helps with the headaches.”

“And for two,” He got closer to you. His mouth inches from your own. “For every time you minimize, ill give you whatever else you want.”

You cocked a brow up and returned the sly grin.

“Oh, like what exactly Neito Monoma?” He shivered at the mention of his full name. A tint becoming present on his cheeks.

“I don’t know, maybe kissing.” He leaned closer. Your lips touching but just by a little.

“Or maybe something more.” He added in. You decided to take the lead and closed the gap between the two of you. His lips were surprisingly soft, must be because of the religious chapstick use.

He became impatient and pushed his tongue into your mouth. He sighed into the kiss and pull you in closer by placing a hand on your lower back. You kissed back with fever and played with his tongue a bit. You made him moan, the hand holding the cup lowering to place it on the table. You quickly snatched it from him and backed away from the kiss you were sharing. A wet popping sound made itself present once you parted from him, a light string of saliva attached to your once connected lips. Monoma looked confused, his eyes hazy from the euphoria of kissing you.

“What?” He asked confused. You just giggled and walked away with the cup of the now lukewarm coffee. Monoma quickly trailed behind you, hand reaching out to take the cup. You walked to the sink and dumped all of the coffee down the drain.

“I know I should stop. I know.” You turned towards him and place your hand on his cheek. You admired him for a moment. His face was still red and his chest was still expanding slowly trying to get more air in. You gently caressed his lips with your thumb and quickly gave him a peck on them.

“But I’ll only stop because you asked me to.” You kissed him deeply. Monoma wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you in place.

“I love you Nei.” Monomas face flushed deeper and he hid his face on the crook of your neck. He had to bend down to do so but it was worth it.

“I love you too Y/n.”

#monoma x you #bnha monoma #monoma x reader #mha monoma #monoma neito #monoma #monoma neito x reader #monoma x f! reader #monoma x y/n #mha monoma x reader #mha #bnha

102 notes · View notes

xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

Note

Hi! how about one where Levi and his fem s/o sleep together for the first time and reader finds out that Levi sleep talking about how much he loves her and that he's very lucky to have her in his life. The next morning when they wake up reader teases him about it and he's very embarassed? Thank you so much, I’m sorry for my bad English. I love you❤️

A/N: Hello anon! 💕Thank you so much for requesting, this idea just had my heart melting and I loved it because I sleep talk all the time (when I actually manage to sleep) so it was fun to write based on experience (curtesy of my sis & friends telling me about my sleep talk endeavors). I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to get it out to you, my ADHD has been really out of control lately. I really struggle with it sometimes, so I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long. I’ve also been having horrible migraines on and off for the past couple days so that’s what the beginning of the story was inspired by 😅. Thank you so much for your patience, I really appreciate it. Also your english is absolutely fine, love! I hope this is what you were looking for! ❤️

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Ghost on the Shore” By: Lord Huron” 🐉

~~~

🔥Woman of My Dreams 🔥

(Y/N) knew she was supposed to be working, helping Captain Levi with his massive load of paperwork, but she couldn’t focus for the life of her, too distracted by the pained look on her captain’s face. He must’ve felt her watching him, because he glanced up at her, his eyes distant and slightly glazed but narrowed, silently telling her to get back to work. She scowled at him and turned her gaze back to the stack of proposals in her lap, chewing on the end of her pen as she attempted to refocus on the words in front of her. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept straying back to the raven-haired man at his desk, his occasional grunts and annoyed sighs alerting her to his struggle.

(Y/N) was always in awe of her boyfriend’s work ethic, constantly left wondering how someone with so much stress could still manage to push forward. He never seemed to fail at anything he tried, and he constantly pushed his mind and body to the limits, foregoing the need for rest and food in favor of getting everything done in one night. But while that part of her would always be proud of him and his ability to do so much, another part of her hated it. She hated how he’d sacrifice his own health for the sake of others, pushing himself until his body nearly shut down. Tonight, was one of those nights.

She knew Levi had a horrendous migraine. He was usually prone to the headaches that seemed to crack the skull open, but this one seemed particularly awful. He was constantly massaging his forehead and his eyes were unfocused and filled with pain. Tiny whimpers and groans would occasionally escape him, showing her just how much it was affecting him. Levi was usually able to push through the pain and suffer in silence, but this migraine of his seemed intent on making him as miserable as possible. He hadn’t finished more than two pages of work since they had started, and it was clear he was nearing his breaking point.

Knowing his preference for powering through the pain, (Y/N) usually left him to his own devices when he had a migraine like this, trying to make his life easier in more subtle ways like bringing him tea and helping him with more paperwork than usual, but this time, she refused to ignore it. It was clear he was too stubborn to admit he needed to rest and someone had to look after him and make sure he didn’t kill himself.

Setting the remaining reports off to the side, (Y/N) stood from his couch and made her way over to her lover. Before he could react, (Y/N) leaned over and snatched the pen he held from his grasp, throwing it behind her so it could land randomly somewhere in the office.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?” Levi snapped, his voice raspy and filled with exhaustion.

“I’m tired of watching you work yourself to the bone. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Levi shook his head, “(Y/N), I’m fine.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, “Like hell you are. Now, stop being stubborn and step away from the desk.”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, (Y/N),” Levi said darkly with a huff. “I am still your captain.”

“Well you won’t be anymore if you overwork yourself to death,” (Y/N) retorted. “And don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’m your girlfriend, which means it’s my job to worry about your wellbeing, especially if you refuse to do it yourself.”

Levi glared at her, but he was secretly touched by her sentiment. It had taken him a while to get used to the feeling of being loved and cared for, but once he had, he had grown greedy for it. He never showed it, still uncomfortable at the idea of being vulnerable around others, even his own lover, but he would always love how she doted on him, how she made him feel like he was worth something. That if he died, he wouldn’t just be mourned because humanity had lost its strongest soldier. He would be missed, remembered for the man he was rather than just how society had painted him to be. His eyes roved over her usually kind face, now twisted into a frown as she glared right back at him, refusing to back down without getting him the rest he needed. He honestly didn’t know why he was being so stubborn, he knew she was right, but he still struggled to accept her help, almost feeling weak for succumbing to something as trivial as a migraine.

As if she could read his mind, her gaze softened and she let out a gentle sigh. Moving around his desk to stand behind him, she leaned down and laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing and massaging the muscles with her firm fingers. Levi was embarrassed by how quickly he reacted to her touch, immediately leaning back into her grip. His head lolled against the back of his chair and his eyes closed in bliss, temporarily ignoring the blistering pain in his head.

“Feel good?”

Levi hummed.

“See? Accepting help doesn’t make you any less of a man. Getting the rest and relaxation your body needs doesn’t make you weak by any means. Everyone needs the proper energy to take care of themselves, you especially. You’re too important to lose, especially to something as pointless as self neglect. So please stop working tonight, for me.”

Levi was silent for a moment, fighting with himself over the urge to finish his work anyway or fall victim once again to your undeniable charms as well as the insistent demands of his own body. Just as he was about to open his mouth, ready to attempt one last refute, a fresh wave of pain washed over him, making him gasp. A hand flew to his head, his teeth gritted in pain as his very skull seemed to throb. Through the haze, he vaguely felt (Y/N)’s hands tighten on his shoulders and knew there was no way he was going to get out of this. Once she had made up her mind about something, there was no changing it.

For once, Levi didn’t fight it when (Y/N) guided him to stand from his chair, biting his tongue to keep from gasping in pain as the sudden movement made his head split. He stumbled and started to fall, only to be caught by his lover, the strong woman bearing his entire weight as if he were nothing but a feather. A light blush made its way to his cheeks despite the pain that was starting to make his vision blur. He knew he shouldn’t be shocked, she was in his Special Operations squad for a reason, but she never failed to impress him with her unexpected strength. (Y/N) walked slowly and carefully, making sure to avoid jostling him as she made her way to his bedroom. Nudging the door open, (Y/N) picked her way over to his bedside and pulled the sheets back before gently easing him onto the mattress, ignoring his protests when she began stripping him of his uniform.

His blush got a little darker as she worked on removing his clothes. Their relationship wasn’t new, but it hadn’t been very long either, and they still hadn’t crossed the boundary of physical intimacy yet. He knew she had no ill intent, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling relatively shy at the thought of her seeing him without his uniform.

(Y/N) felt butterflies in her stomach with each article she removed, but she shoved down her embarrassment and awe at his breathtaking form and focused on making him as comfortable as possible. She stopped once he was finally stripped to his boxers and neatly folded his uniform to place on the lone chair in the corner of his room, knowing it would bother him all night if it was thrown around half-hazardly.

Levi’s soft groan of pain brought her back to his bedside, and she quickly shimmied the blankets out from under his legs so she could throw them over his body, taking the extra time to tuck him in as comfortably as possible. As soon as he was nestled beneath the soft blankets, (Y/N) moved to his bathroom to get him some water, holding the glass to his lips for a few sips to help lessen some of the pressure in his head. Finally, she left to grab a small bucket to place beside him just in case he had to vomit in the middle of the night, knowing it might be difficult for him to reach the bathroom if he was dizzy and disoriented.

Placing her hands on her hips, (Y/N) surveyed her work, nodding once she was satisfied with his set up. Flashing him a sweet smile, (Y/N) turned for his bedroom door, her eyes soft and full of love as she watched him.

“Goodnight, Levi, I hope you feel better,” She said, opening the door and stepping through it.

“(Y/N).”

(Y/N) paused, her hand on the edge of the door as she peered back around to look at him, “Yes?”

“Stay with me. Please?” Levi asked, the blush on his cheeks getting even darker as he averted his gaze.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. She and Levi had been dating for nearly six months and yet he had never asked her something like this. She knew they were going at a slow pace, she knew Levi struggled with expressing his emotions, but she had always been content to go at whatever pace he was comfortable with, knowing he was still very new to the idea of a relationship. It had taken him several weeks for him to even get to the point of treating her differently than the other soldiers on his squad.

She had never doubted his love for her, even when her friends had seemed skeptical in the beginning. She could see it in his eyes, but it had taken him a long time to be able to express those hidden feelings physically and vocally. She didn’t mind, she was fine with being patient and had waited for him to come to her, allowing him to have the time he needed to find his words and indulge in discovering his own love language. It was fun in a way, a little adventure between the two of them. It made every new sign of affection from him mean so much more than normal; every head pat, every kiss, every hug, making her feel as if she had just conquered the world.

It was because of those experiences that she was able to understand the importance of this moment. Her shy, reclusive, severely touch-starved boyfriend asking her to share his bed with him, exposing that vulnerability to her, albeit innocently, was a huge step in a new direction for him.

The thought made her nervous, not wanting to impose on his personal space or make him uncomfortable with her, but it also filled her with immense pride. He trusted her and only her to be around him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Swallowing her anxiety, (Y/N) nodded and shut the door again. Picking her way across the room, she quietly maneuvered her way to his bedside and slid beneath the covers beside him, trying to make as little noise and movement as possible to avoid causing more pain to his head.

Levi grunted a little as he shifted onto his side, facing away from her while she reached over to the bedside table to diffuse the lantern flame, bathing the room in darkness. Levi felt (Y/N) shift until she was laying on her side, facing his broad back, the covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Goodnight Levi,” (Y/N) murmured.

“Mmm, goodnight,” Levi muttered, the pain in his head coupled with her soothing presence making him drowsier than normal.

(Y/N) smiled when she felt Levi fall asleep, his light snores and gentle breathing filling the otherwise silent air. She was glad he was finally getting some rest, but she knew she would be up for a while. She had had insomnia for as long as she could remember and knew it would be a long time before her brain would shut up long enough for her to get some rest. It was that shared trait between her and the Captain that had allowed her to get close to him in the first place, late night talks with tea leading to moonlit confessions on the roof of their headquarters.

(Y/N)’s smile widened at the memory, and how uncharacteristically nervous the normally stoic Captain had been when he had turned to her that fateful night and practically spat his feelings at her. She knew how hard it had been for him to admit them to her, and she had a small inclination to say that Erwin and Hanji may have been the ones to force him to do it, but that just made the memory all the more special to her. It showed her that he really did care for her, that he was willing to lower his carefully structured walls and bare his battered heart for her alone. It was why it didn’t bother her that he didn’t shower her with compliments. It was why she was never disheartened by his lack of physical or vocal affection.

She’d be lying if she claimed she didn’t get a little lonely sometimes, and she couldn’t say she didn’t sometimes wish he could call her beautiful without hesitation, but she didn’t let it get to her. She loved him, and she knew he loved her, so she’d wait for however long it took for him to grow comfortable around her, even if that meant she had to reel back her own feelings for a while.

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) was trying to coax sleep to take her when a sudden quiet murmur made her open them again. She waited, wondering if she had imagined the noise, when she suddenly heard it again. It was soft, and very quiet, but it was no doubt the voice of her lover, muttering something. She knew there was no way he was talking to her, he would’ve spoken louder than that if he was.

The thought made her stifle a surprised giggle as she suddenly realized that Levi was talking in his sleep. She knew he’d be embarrassed if he found out she was listening, but she couldn’t help herself, her ears straining to try to catch some of the words. Silence settled over the room once more for a moment, nothing but the distant sound of the wind blowing outside filling the air, but soon enough, the murmurs started back up again, more recognizable words spilling from his lips the longer he talked to himself.

“No…, that’s not…mmm.”

“S-Stop that!”

“Mmph, no… I’m not...”

(Y/N) stifled another laugh as Levi started getting feisty in his sleep, turning to face her with a slight frown marring his features. His eyes were still firmly shut, confirming that he was indeed sleep talking, but the argument he was having with some unknown person in his head seemed to only be getting more intense.

“That’s not true!” Levi suddenly shouted, his voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“What’s not true, Levi?” (Y/N) whispered, deciding to tease him a bit. She knew he would probably be annoyed later, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she wasn’t about to pass it up.

“That’s not true.” Levi said again, his voice lowering in volume but hardening in tone, “Of course I show affection!”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her mouth and bit her knuckle, trying to keep her giggles from waking him up, “Oh, really? When do you usually show affection?”

Levi’s frown deepened and his jaw tightened, “I show affection when I’m with (Y/N).”

(Y/N) blinked, not expecting her name to come up in this midnight conversation. Lowering her hand from her lips, (Y/N) sat up to rest on her elbows, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at her sleeping lover.

“How do you show (Y/N) affection?” she asked, curious to see what he would say.

Levi let out a quiet, defeated sigh, his frown disappearing into an expression that looked unexpectedly like guilt.

“Listen, Hanji, I…” Levi trailed off for a while, the air thick with (Y/N)’s curiosity. So, it was Hanji he was talking to in whatever dream he was having. The thought spiked her curiosity even further, making her heart pound in her chest. It wasn’t uncommon that Levi would be annoyed with Hanji, so the argument at the beginning of his dream made sense, but he almost never talked about his relationship with anyone but Erwin, not trusting the energetic scientist to keep from teasing him and spreading rumors about them. She knew they were together of course, that was impossible to hide from her, but he always denied her details whenever she asked.

“Shit… I… I can’t believe I’m about to do this…” Levi muttered, a slight scowl reappearing on his features.

“Do what?” (Y/N) whispered.

Levi took a deep breath, his fingers curling around the edge of the sheets to squeeze in his fist, as if he was being forced to do something unpleasant, “Hanji, I need your help.”

(Y/N) had to fight to hold back a genuinely shocked gasp. Even when he was just dreaming, she had never imagined in her entire life that she would hear that sentence come out of his mouth. She suddenly wondered if she was the one dreaming, and this was just some elaborate scene her brain had made up.

“Um, sure, Levi, what do you need help with?”

A deep breath rattled from the depths of his chest, “How do I... show (Y/N) proper affection?”

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) asked breathlessly.

Levi grunted in his sleep, his knees rising beneath the sheets to curl against his stomach. “Do I really have to explain it, Hanji?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, you idiot,” Levi grumbled, “I just… I just don’t know how to show her how much she means to me. I’m so fucking lucky to have her. She’s been so patient, so amazing, never complaining about my inability to be romantic, but I’m tired of being unable to be there for her. I’m tired of looking around at the other couples around us and seeing how loving they are, only to know that I can’t do the same for her. I’ve had enough of treating her like a normal cadet on my squad. She deserves so much more than that, she is so much more than that. She shows me every single day that I am loved and cared for, and it makes me sick that I struggle to do the same.”

(Y/N) had her hand back over her mouth again, this time to stifle her sobs instead of her chuckles. Her eyes were lined with silver as she gazed down at the love of her life, her heart thundering pleasantly in her chest. While it was true that she had never had a problem with waiting for him to get more comfortable with her, she couldn’t deny the feelings of elation she was feeling with every word that poured from his mouth. It didn’t matter that he was asleep, it didn’t matter that he didn’t even know he was talking to her. All that mattered was that he was finally saying the things she had secretly burned to hear for months.

Levi sighed, “I just love her so damn much. She’s the woman of my dreams, and I don’t think I can go one more day without her knowing that…”

Swallowing the sob that threatened to crawl past her lips, (Y/N) brushed his raven bangs to the side and leaned down to give him a sweet kiss on the forehead.

“Believe me, Levi. She knows.”

The small smile that appeared on his face made it impossible for (Y/N) to hold her tears back this time, the warm, salty liquid sliding down her cheeks to land with soft taps on her pillow. Despite the fact that his eyes were still closed, (Y/N) gave him a watery smile of her own and reached over to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to his warm chest and curling into his body.

“I love you too, Levi,” she murmured before closing her eyes, the smile still on her face as she fell asleep easily for the first time in years.

____________________

Levi could feel himself slowly being dragged back into consciousness, but for the first time since he was a little boy, he didn’t want to wake up to the slightly more bearable hell of the day. Usually, what little sleep he got was riddled with nightmares, screams of his comrades as they either begged him to save them or blamed him for their early deaths. He was usually plagued with dark, bloody thoughts and visuals that made him wake in a cold sweat, his stomach swirling so violently he was occasionally reduced to emptying the remnants of his dinner in the middle of the night. He never enjoyed being tired or facing the titans day after day, but at least the real world kept him busy with training and paperwork, keeping his demons at bay.

But today felt different. He felt warm, comfortable, as if the sun’s rays were cuddling him in a warm nest. He felt content and unafraid of closing his eyes for the first time in years. A part of him was suspicious of the change, tempted to open his eyes and find out what was making him feel so comfortable, but the bigger part of him didn’t want to leave this unexpected bliss so soon, afraid that opening his eyes would chase away the feeling before he could truly relish in it.

He sighed through his nose, nuzzling his pillow in an attempt to coax his mind back into the warm embrace of sleep when a sudden movement against his bare chest made his eyes snap open, ready to rip someone to shreds. His stinging words immediately died on his tongue when his silver gaze snapped to the (h/c) haired lump nestled against his skin. Ah, that explained why he had slept so well, even with a migraine, which had thankfully disappeared overnight.

Levi couldn’t help the smile that curled at the edges of his lips, the look in his eyes softening as he watched his love sleep against him. An innocent, giddy sense of wonder filled him at the sight of her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never had a woman fall asleep against him before, many people finding him too cold and standoffish to find comfort in him. But here she was, the most gorgeous woman in the world, cuddled up against him as if he were a warm pillow, her hair splayed out over his chest like tangled silk.

She was so fucking beautiful. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The past few months had been the best he had ever had, his life now full of love and happiness and soft laughter. As he stared at her, his heart about to burst out of his chest, Levi couldn’t help but reach out to her, his fingers brushing her cheeks ever so softly, making his skin tingle with how soft she was.

His hand immediately drew back when she scrunched her nose cutely, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth opened in a wide yawn. A part of him felt sorry for waking her, but as she opened her glittering (e/c) eyes to look up at him, the other part of him felt more satisfied at seeing her cute expression.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) mumbled, her sleepy, raspy voice sending a jolt of something electric down his spine.

“Morning,” Levi said, unaware that his own deep, husky morning voice was making (Y/N)’s stomach flutter with early morning butterflies.

“Sleep well?” (Y/N) asked.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Levi said, moving his arms from around her body so he could stretch them above his head with a satisfying crack.

“It sure sounded like it.”

Her comment made him pause and glance at her, the mischievous look in her eye making a wave of nervousness course through him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” (Y/N) purred, causing his anxiety to spike, “I was just unaware that you talk in your sleep.”

Levi froze. He talked in his sleep!? He didn’t know he did that! He supposed it was normal for him to not remember the event, and he had never slept beside another person in his life, aside from his mother when he was a toddler, so it made sense that he had been unaware of this unexpected habit, but that didn’t erase the anxiety that swirled in his gut.

“O-Oh?” Levi asked softly, cursing his stutter.

“Mm hm,” (Y/N) said, her smile only widening as she watched his reaction, her eyes glittering playfully.

“Um, what did I say? It better not have been something stupid,” Levi muttered, trying to fight the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks. He almost didn’t want to know, but with the way she was smiling at him, it looked as if he had said some revealing things.

“Well, you were arguing with Hanji for most of it,” (Y/N) said, watching with a deviant smile as her boyfriend relaxed, an obvious expression of relief on his face.

“Tch, I do that when I’m awake, idiot.”

“You also said you were head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger.”

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh when Levi started choking on his own breath, his sharp inhale of shock getting caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” (Y/N) said with a cackle, smirking even more at the dirty glare he threw her as he coughed, “It was a joke, I promise!”

“Fucking hell, brat…” Levi muttered, covering his face with his arm.

“You did call me the woman of your dreams, though,” (Y/N) said quietly once her giggles had subsided, a light blush dusting her cheeks despite herself as she recalled the wonderful memory.

Levi didn’t choke this time, but his eyes did go wide, his lips parting in shock. He knew she was being serious. Immediately, Levi was filled with a confusing blend of joy and horror, happiness that he had finally gotten the chance to tell her his true feelings about her, even in sleep, and horror that she had found out in the way she did, while he was unconscious and having an argument with Four Eyes about god knows what. Levi couldn’t fight the blush that rose to his cheeks, his skin stained red as embarrassment washed over him.

He didn’t know what to say. He was floundering, trying to think of something, anything to either confirm his sentiment or try to divert the conversation, but nothing was coming to mind. His brain was blank, nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears overwhelming his senses. Suddenly, a soft hand grasped his wrist, gently tugging on his arm until he had removed it from covering the silver eyes she loved so much. Leaning over him, her eyes were glazed with unshed tears as she locked her gaze with his, showing him all of the emotions she couldn’t put into words before leaning down to kiss him.

He unintentionally let out a groan when her lips met his, his tongue immediately reaching out to dance with hers as they tasted each other, slow and sweet and loving. When they finally parted, both of them gasping for breath and smiling as if they had just found the way to world peace, Levi saw that a few tears had escaped to stain (Y/N)’s cheeks.

“I love you, Levi Ackerman. I love you for you and all of your little quirks, and I always will.”

Levi felt himself get choked up, but he swallowed past the lump in his throat, focused on making the goddess in his arms feel the same way she made him feel.

“I l-love you too, (Y/N), y-you really are the woman of my d-dreams.”

Levi hated that he stuttered, but he let out a sigh of relief as he finally managed to push the words past his lips. (Y/N) choked out a joyful sob as pride filled her chest like a roaring lion, making her skin glow as if she were something from a fairytale, taking Levi’s breath away. Sitting up, Levi met her half way for another soul-searing kiss, his heart calling out her name as he allowed himself to relax with the kiss, melting into her affection as if he were dipping into a warm sauna, his heart throbbing for the woman who was his entire world.

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vesuvian-american-fics · 3 years

Text

better with time. Ch 4

fevers.

You’re struggling with a harsh fever. (AO3)

Words: 1,633

The following weeks were a blur of the same old routine. Reading, writing, drawing, and trying to speak. Progress was made but it was all too frustratingly slow for your own liking. You could make sounds now but they were embarrassingly hoarse and your throat was sore from the work. Only Hange was around for the vocal lessons and you were pleased with that. Who knows how Levi would tease if he heard your voice as it was now?

You could sound out your vowels and other simple noises, your irritated huffs and puffs now came with sound, something Levi wasn’t too happy about. Hearing you express your agitation with his presence annoyed him like no other but he often held his tongue. One stern glare would settle you down for the time being, you knew your place and that was enough for now.

“Oi...” He said, as he opened your cell door just a crack for you to come retrieve your lunch. No response, even though you’re sitting right there in your cell reading at your desk he presumed. Levi rolled his eyes before stomping into the cell and harshly dropping a tray down next to your slumped form. The loud racket from the clanking metal and glass shook you from your slumber. You must have dozed off instead of studying.

A gleam of cold sweat made your forehead shine as a few loose strands were sticking to you. Levi frowned before snatching his hand away from you, afraid of being too close. He recoiled in disgust before exiting the cell and heading towards Hange’s office.

“Shitty Glasses, your favorite titan looks sick.” He says wiping his hands clean on his handkerchief. Hange didn’t take their eyes from their microscope lens, they simply hummed at nothing in particular. Levi’s eyes narrowed; he’s sure they hadn’t actually heard a word he said.

“Oi! You hear me?” He asked, stepping closer, again, he was partially ignored.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Someone’s not feeling too good right?” They said, slipping a new slide under the scope and scribbling notes haphazardly in their messy notepad. Levi pinched the bridge of his nose before kicking at Hange’s stool to garner their full attention. Hange gasped as their arms flailed to grab the desk before them as to not fall on their ass.

“O-oh! Who’s sick?” They sheepishly asked as they tried to set everything back to rights on their disorganized table. Levi huffed at the scene before him before giving Hange a well-deserved lecture about keeping tidy and listening when they’re spoken to.

“That brats down there sweating like a hog, get them a bath. She looks shitty.” He said as he turned to make his leave for a cup of steaming black tea.

“I’m busy why don’t you do it?” Hange complained taking one last glimpse at the specimen in their microscope slide. Levi said nothing, simply leveling Hange with a stare over his shoulder.

“Joking, joking! Right away!” Hange rushed past Levi in their haste to get a bath running for you. Levi shook his head before continuing down the opposite hallway for his tea and some quiet time in his office signing off on reports.

You had hardly touched your lunch when Hange got to you. They cocked their head to the side as they watched you pick away at the vegetables on your plate, long gone cold. Hange playfully huffed at the sight, surely a hot bath, fluids, and some rest and you’ll be right as rain.

You gave Hange a weary smile and wiped your forehead clean of any lingering sweat. Hange returned that smile and ushered you off to the bath, this time allowing you to wash your own hair. The two of your shared a few laughs as Hange walked you through their latest experiments and the daily goings on with the Scouts.

“They’re really curious about you, you know. Sooner you can talk and we get things cleared up I think Levi will let you meet people.” You snorted at that, sure he would.

Hange barked a hearty laugh before continuing.

“He’s actually not so bad when you get to know him.” They said with a soft smile, reminiscing on the good times.

You scrunched your nose up at the thought but you also were the type to see the good in everybody, and surely, he had some good qualities if Hange could stand him. Of course, he’s strong, intelligent, and admittedly handsome, but is there truly anything charming about his character? Not yet at least, you thought.

The time spent in the hit bath must have taken its toll on you, your face was flushed red and you were out of breath just sitting there. Your heart was pounding and your vision was growing dark around the edges. You motioned for Hange to come help you stand and with hand movements you told them you desperately needed something to drink. Swiftly, the two of you made it back to your cold damp cell where you shuffled into bed and they were off once again to grab you a cup of warm tea.

On the way to the canteen for a clean glass, Hange spotted and angry Levi storming down the hallway. Quickly, Hange tried to avoid the Captain but he caught up to them with little effort and grabbed them harshly on the arm.

“Shitty Glasses... where are those reports I asked for yesterday?” He grilled, folding his arms over his chest with a look on impatience plastered of his pale face.

“Uh... I got carried away in my research– but, I can work on that right now and get them on your desk tonight!” Hange clasped their rough hands together, almost begging for Levi’s patience. He sighed before he agreed and begin to stalk off further down the hallway.

“Ah! But can you get our guest some tea? I think she’s just dehydrated. Thank you!” Before Levi could protest Hange was gone in an instant to go finish up those reports as ordered.

“She’s no guest.” He muttered to himself as he fixed two cups of steaming jasmine tea, adding a bit of mint to both drinks. His light footfalls descended the stairs and you groaned realizing it wasn’t Hange but Levi that was bringing your drink, meaning he’d probably sit down here and watch you until the early evening. You tried to feign sleep, hoping to avoid any awkward interaction with the man but he saw through your trick in an instant.

He cracked open the cell door before sighing in annoyance.

“Oi, come get this cup.” You hesitated a moment before tossing the thin sheets off of your body and shuffling towards the bars. You gave Levi a curt nod before graciously taking the warm tea from him and drinking it like you hadn’t had water in weeks. It did well to soothe your aching throat and warm your body instantly.

He quirked an eyebrow at that but instead of commenting he slammed the cell shut before taking his seat. He drank his tea with more patience than you, savoring the cool minty flavor that could ease any illness he ever encountered. Thinking back to Hange’s words earlier you decided to show your gratitude properly now that you finished that delicious tea.

You raised your tea cup to Levi in cheers before giving the man a shy yet genuine smile. He simply nodded before closing his eyes and continuing to sip his drink. You flopped down onto your bed as your pounding headache began to cloud your senses.

For the next three days your mind was foggy. You don’t remember much other than sleeping majority of the day, sweating, a skull shattering head ache, and a fresh cup of tea three times a day.

You also developed a dry cough that destroyed your throat, unfortunately you found the tea did little to soothe that even though you hardly had the energy to sit up and drink. You looked horrible, soon enough Levi and Hange knew this was no mere dehydration spell. Something was clearly wrong, maybe you were battling a fever of some sort.

An emergency report was sent to Erwin and the next day he was standing before you, a heavy hand over your forehead.

“Definitely a fever.” He said, confirming their conclusions.

“We should move her to the infirmary for the time being until this fever breaks.” He spoke as he pulled the damp sheets from your body. You shivered at the change in temperature, shrinking in on yourself.

Levi frowned, he wouldn’t like the idea of you being out of your cell and upstairs but you looked gravely ill. He sighed in defeat, if he were in chargehe’d bring any medicine you’d need down here but Erwin was too foolishly kind.

As you at up to stand with the Commander’s help a sharp pain shot through your chest. You gasped and clutched the sweat laden fabric over your chest, your lungs were on fire, heart pounding against the back of your sternum. You doubled over as a violent cough racked your body, drops of crimson blood spilled to the wet stones underneath your feet.

Hange gasped, rushing forward to catch you before you hit the ground, your consciousness quickly fading. Levi’s eyes widened at the sight before him, lines of blood spilling from your lips, utter pain etched across your features, drenched hair dripping with sweat, your labored breathing loud and rushed. Erwin rushed out of the cell carrying you up to the infirmary with Levi and Hange hot on his heels.

Your consciousness was wavering, all you know was that you saw many concerned faces on the way to wherever you were being carried.

And then everything went black.

#levi ackerman #levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #better with time.#fic #illness #blood mention #aot #attack on titan #snk

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teruthecreator · 4 years

Text

Red Lines, Blue Hearts

hi friends! remember how i keep saying i’m going to write something, and then i do anything but? today’s “anything but” is brought to you by this epic and emotionally laboring art by matt (@accesscodex), as well as his chaos!fitzroy au which injures my soul. i don’t feel like putting this on ao3 but!! my ao3 is always available if you would like to see my other graduation crimes.

reblogs > likes and i hope y’all enjoy!!!

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The first thing Fitzroy sees when his body is released from Chaos’ grasp is red.

Pinkish-red scars litter nearly every inch of his body, permanent reminders of the power he let consume him. Some follow the pathway of his veins, like the ones on his legs. Others are large patches that once revealed the pearlescent skin Chaos manifested underneath, like on his face and back. There are a few that look to be a result from fighting, puncture marks or slashes in odd spots across every plane of skin. Along with the dull pain that persists for weeks after, they leave Fitzroy feeling mangled and ugly. Like a porcelain doll shattered by a rowdy child, glued back together but never looking quite the way it once did.

His friends have done a good job keeping his mind off the changes. Rainer comes over every week to repaint his nails and catch him up on what’s happening outside the safety of his room. She always extends the offer for him to meet at her place, but he always refuses. The wounds of what he did under the control of Chaos are still too fresh, and he’d rather spend months in solitude than force the people around him to relive through any of the destruction he caused.

Buckminster and Leon (now restored to his human form) also visit with new cloaks and waistcoats for Fitzroy to try on; the excuse being they accidentally bought a size too small or large, even when the garments look ill-fitting for the pair at a glance. The brothers will then sit on Fitzroy’s bed and demand a fashion show, Leon politely clapping as Buckminster narrates each outfit with overabundant dramatics. They never ask for anything in return, nor will they accept the gold Fitzroy shoves into their hand each time.

“It’s what friends are for!” Buckminster will say, patting Fitzroy on the back heartily (yet gently, so as to prevent any flare-ups of pain).

Althea Song stopped by once, meekly peeking into Fitzroy’s room with a large bag in hand. He later found out the bag contained a number of hair and skin products for people with sensitivities. They spent the next hour smelling lotion scents and talking self-care. Admittedly, Fitzroy had pretty much stopped both his hair and skin routine after his faculties returned to him; the thought of even staring at himself in the mirror for that long gave him the shivers. So it was nice to have an excuse to start trying to mend the damages done to his body, even if he had to cover his mirror for the time being. At the end of her visit, Althea nervously extended her arms for a hug, which Fitzroy hesitantly allowed. The moment was a little tense, but overall nice. Althea murmured some encouragement that was lost to Fitzroy, who was too in his head to hear.

Althea smelled of maple and charcoal. Just like his mother.

It is a few days after this visit that Fitzroy sees something else, something he lost in all the constant red lines and marks.

Blue roses, delicately painted along the skin of his left wrist. Marred by two lines of red, crossing out the pristine image permanently.

The sight broke Fitzroy’s heart in twain.

The tattoo was, admittedly, a bit of an impulsive decision. After spending nearly every day with the other two Thundermen, the roses on Argo’s right arm became a bit of a focal point for Fitzroy’s dazed stares. There were...quite a few reasons why his gaze always seemed to drift to the genasi, as loathe as Fitzroy was to admit to that, at first. But the roses were different; they were beautiful, matching Argo’s complexion perfectly and complimenting the rest of the art painted up that arm. After a while, the flower became synonymous with Argo. Fitzroy would pass by a rosebush and suddenly images of Argo’s sharp-toothed smile would flash through his head. He would smell rosewater and hear Argo’s boisterous laugh echo through his skull. The two became intertwined--land and sea, beauty and beauty.

So, when Rhodes invited him to New Hope to touch up one of her forearm tattoos, he felt compelled to get the roses. It was only after the deed was done--artist paid, skin wrapped in a tight plastic, and instructions handed to him on how to care for the new ink--that Fitzroy realized how weird this was. Him and Argo weren’t even an item, yet!

Not that they would be, or that Fitzroy even wanted them to, but--

You know what? Never mind.

He couldn’t hide the tattoo forever, at the very least. The topic would have to be breached. Would Argo be offended that Fitzroy copied his tattoo without asking? Would he feel weird that they technically have matching tattoos? Would he...like it? Would he find it sweet or endearing that Fitzroy thought of him so much he wanted a tattoo to match?

After two weeks of hiding it and a week of teasing from Rainer (after she saw it during one of their study sessions), Fitzroy randomly showed it to Argo. He attempted to not be weird about it--simply rolling up his sleeves while he did homework with Argo in their common area--but Argo only noticed after a handful of dramatic coughs and awkward arm movements on Fitzroy’s end. Once he saw it, though, his eyes lit up with delight. He immediately reached out to grab Fitzroy’s wrist, leaning across the table to admire the artistry on his skin. The contact lit a fire in the pit of Fitzroy’s gut; a fire that continued to burn for months after.

A fire that doused in the wake of seeing his roses ruined.

Instinct overrides rational thought as Fitzroy stands up from his bed, maimed wrist planted firmly at his side to hide the truth from his eyes. His legs carry him to Argo’s room, who was in bed studying. Argo’s head shoots up just as Fitzroy’s body leans and collapses into the embrace of the genasi. The tears unconsciously streaming down his face continue to fall as Argo’s arms come to envelop him.

“F-Fitz? What’s goin’ on?” Argo asks, his voice gentle but concerned. Fitzroy hiccups a few sobs, feeling weak and helpless and utterly broken, as he leans back to show Argo his wrist. It takes a second for Argo to pinpoint the problem, but once he does he lets out a soft, “Oh.”

“I-It’s broken,” Fitzroy whimpers, leaning his head onto Argo’s right shoulder. “I-I ruin--ruined i-it!”

“Aw, no, hey,” Argo says, gently carding through Fitzroy’s platinum locks. “This isn’t your fault.” Fitzroy stubbornly shakes his head, face still pressed into Argo’s shoulder.

“Y-Yes it is because I a-allowed them to do this to m-me.” Fitzroy’s voice warbles with his cries. “I-I wanted p-power, and they knew that, and th-they used me to g-get what they wanted because I didn’t stop them. A-And then they hurt you, and Master Firbolg, a-and Rainer, and the school, and the town, a-and nearly the world if--if you hadn't stopped them.” Every point of contact with the rogue is both a soothing salve and a knife to his skin. He burns with the broken, defeated rage of man with nothing. “A-And they’ve broken me, Argo! I--I can never return to normal, I can never be who I o-once was, I-I’m ruined!”

“Hey!” Argo’s voice is stern, yet his touch is gentle as he pulls Fitzroy’s head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. It’s then Fitzroy can see the glimmer of tears in Argo’s eyes, along with the scattered lines of light-blue permanently streaked across his face. He moves the hand holding Fitzroy’s head to gently rub along his wrist, the other still firmly wrapped around his waist. Fitzroy’s mind unhelpfully provides only one thought: He’s beautiful.

“‘M not gonna sit here and let ya kick yourself while yer already down, alright?” he continues. “I know this is all really...really hard for you t’handle. You spent--gods, felt like years, but was really only a couple’a months under Chaos’s control. And, yeah, things did get massively fucked because of that. But...But that wasn’t you!”

“I-It was, though--”

“--Will you let me finish?” Argo stares at Fitzroy until he sheepishly nods. “Thank you. What I was sayin’ was that the destruction wasn’t you! It was Chaos--they had most of the control of yer body during that time! And, sure, maybe you did allow them a little access in the beginning because y’wanted power. I-I get that, though! You...You didn’t have the nicest childhood. You’ve been constantly pushed down and made to feel lesser--so have I, if I’ll be honest. It’s a natural reaction to wanna get some power in return, to finally get what’s yours, as the saying goes. B-But you didn’t ask to be hurt like this. You didn’t ask to hurt me! Or anyone else! It just...it just happened. And we gotta just start...tryin’ to move beyond it, I guess. Not really a ‘live and let live’ situation, but more of a… ‘you got hurt and so did I, so let’s just try and move on together’ sorta thing...Y’get what I’m saying to ya, Fitzroy?” He carefully pulls Fitzroy’s wrist up and closer to his face so Fitzroy can see.

“Yer not broken, Fitz. This,” he gently shakes Fitzroy’s arm to emphasize, “isn’t ruined. It’s just...new! A different take on life! A different take on art! But yer still you, Fitzroy, even with all the new. I still...I-I still think you’re gorgeous, if I’m, uh, bein’ honest. You, uh, always have been...to me…” The genasi’s cheeks flush as he breaks eye contact, bashfully looking towards the floor as the words flood Fitzroy’s head. It seems so silly--the smallest, most asinine fact out of Argo’s whole speech--but hearing Argo call him gorgeous makes the burning rage within turn to a melty, gooey, warm mass of fondness.

“I...Thank you, Argo.” Fitzroy mutters, feeling his own blush start to climb up his face. “You, uh, you’ve always been...there for me. H-Helping me. And I, uh...truthfully, I do not know where I’d be if it was not for you and your kindness, and humor, and cunning...ness. And...you’re, uh...I-I think you’re handsome, as well.” The last part he’s barely able to get out of his mouth, but Argo still hears it because he looks back to Fitzroy. The half-elf smiles nervously and shrugs. “I...thought I made that obvious on several occasions, but, uh. I’ve always thought you were handsome.”

Fitzroy and Argo’s relationship has been difficult to understand, to say the least. The two have been dancing intricate circles around the truth of their feelings for so long it feels almost like instinct. Yet, despite their hesitations, the pair have been drawing ever closer in their rotations. Now, in this moment--their bodies pressed close together, their hearts beating in unison--it’s natural what happens next.

Argo smiles, full and big, and leans down to press a kiss to Fitzroy’s wrist. And Fitzroy, lost in the sensation, makes no move to pull away.

They spend the rest of the day in this embrace, sharing few words and even fewer kisses. When the Firbolg finds them later that night, he smiles softly at the two wrapped in each other’s arms and quietly heads to his leaf bed.

And when Fitzroy wakes that next morning, the first thing he sees is blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue.

#taz graduation #maplekeene #taz grad #taz fitzroy #taz argo #sir fitzroy maplecourt #argonaut keene #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #taz argo keene #ignorance cloud on #chaos!fitzroy au #accesscodex

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kalypsichor · 4 years

Text

and they were quARANTINED [a beatles fic] - ch 1

summary: George takes a shit. Ringo braves a trip to the tescos and loses a bit of his soul. John harrasses the general public and Paul’s just trying to get them home before they kill each other. All while a virus tears the world apart.

warnings: CRACK (not cocaine), geo’s bad potty habits, ringo’s copious use of emojis

so, this is different... but i’ve always been a crack fic writer at heart. this is the result of being quarantined myself due to COVID-19. i’ve been seeing so much fear and frustration and hatred that i just wanted to write about it kinda cathartically. enjoy!

Unfortunately, George doesn’t realize that they’re out of toilet paper until after he’s taken a shit.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Ringo?”

No answer.

“Ringooooooooo. RINGO!!!”

George’s legs are starting to lose feeling. He bounces them up and down a bit and the motion almost makes him drop his phone in the toilet.

“RICHARD FUCKING STARKEY!”

There’s the sound of footsteps and then a pause before Ringo answers.

“What’s up?”

“What took you so long?”

“Had my headphones in. Sorry I couldn’t be at your beck and call, O Lord of the Loo.”

“SHUT up. Look, do we have any more loo roll?”

A pause. “Why, are we out?”

George rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “No, I’m askin’ for the banter.”

“I’ll go check. Don’t move!”

George can almost see the shit-eating (heh) grin on his mate’s face as he walks away. With a sigh and some choice curse words that would make Louise cry, George pulls out his phone again. Opens Twitter. Sees yet another tweet from that spraytanned clown across the pond. Closes Twitter and contemplates deleting it. After about three rounds of this, Ringo comes back and knocks on the door.

“We’re all out. Got you some tissues, though.”

Krishna help me. George tips his head back against the wall and thumps it a few times for good measure.

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Could you- ?”

The door opens just a smidge before he can finish talking there’s a flying blur of Kleenex box, a blinding pain in the side of his head, and a sickening crACK—

***

“I’m really sorry,” Ringo says for the millionth time, hovering over George as he examines the spiderweb of cracks on his phone screen. George huffs. He wants to be mad, he really does, but Ringo’s face is doing that stupid thing where his eyes are very, very blue and droopy and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip and it’s obvious that he’s genuinely remorseful and—fuck, he’s got it bad.

“It’s fine,” George insists, even though he can hear his bank account having a fit. “Piece of shit phone, anyway. And look, it still works!” Very shittily, his brain adds, but that’s what you get with a five year old phone.

The older boy’s eyes still have an unconvinced, sad look about them and George wishes he could kiss it away. No homo, though.

“How can I make it up to you?” George’s brain does a slutdrop into the gutter. “I’ll… I’ll get the groceries! How ‘bout that?”

“NO!” Scrambling off the couch, George just barely misses smacking noses with Ringo. “What about the… the virus?”

“I’ll wear a mask and all. Wash hands for twenty seconds, stay six feet away from people… am I missing anything?”

“Yeah, the quarantine bit.”

Ringo snorts and puts a hand on George’s arm. “Quit your worrying, Geo. I’ll be fine. Haven’t John and Paul been out all day?”

***

John and Paul want to go the fuck home. They’d walked all the way to a new art gallery opening only to find out it was cancelled (“Why didn’t you check Google?” “Why didn’t you?”). And now, both being tired as hell from their long trek, they couldn’t even flag down a single cab to take them home.

“This is the worst thing ever,” John cries, flopping his entire body down on a park bench. Paul rolls his eyes and lifts up John’s stupidly long legs so he can sit down as well.

“People are dying, John.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“John.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m being dramatic. But this stupid… thing… is fucking up all our plans!”

“It’s not fucking Voldemort, you can say the name.”

“Alright, fine. Coronavirus. CORONAVIRUS. You happy, Paul?”

A woman hurrying by shoots them a wide-eyed, nervous look and crosses the street, tugging a little boy by the hand.

“... bitch.”

“Jesus, John.” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d do that too if some rando was shouting in the streets.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t hafta shoot that nasty look at us… did you see that? Paul?”

“Hold on, hold on.” His phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fumbles to pull it out. “Your stupid legs are in the way.”

John huffs and makes a show of wiggling said legs, almost kicking Paul in the face. Still, he tucks them to his chest (flexible, Paul thinks and then instantly regrets) so that Paul can take out the buzzing rectangle.

bongo: do u or john want anything? 🤔🤔

bongo: like groceries

bongo: going to tescos

Shouldnt you be quarantining?

bongo: ur literally at an art museum 😂

It’s a gallery

And it got cancelled :/

bongo: oop sorry m8 thats tough

bongo: srsly tho whaddaya want

We need more vegetables. Carrots, etc

“Tell him to get cornflakes,” John says, peering over Paul’s shoulder. He’s sat up and practically draped over Paul’s lap. Paul sighs and shoves his legs off, ignoring the indignant squawk the other boy makes when he almost falls off the bench.

Also that cornflake cereal stuff

bongo: k

bongo: tell john i said hi

Heyyyyyy rich wots up

Paulie’s being a bitch he pushed me :((((

Why is his auto caps on lsdnfol

“Give it back!”

“Ow! Ow stop hitting me Jesus fuckin-”

Sorry that was john

bongo: yeah i could tell lmao

bongo: where are u guys??

Stuck at some park. Can’t get any cabs home

bongo: well duh coronavirus 😷😷😷

bongo: bad time to be a cabbie man 😔

Yeah yikes

Pick up some rice for george too

And hand sanitizer

bongo: ill try but twitter says handsan itizer is going fast

bongo: what the fuc why did it space like that

Lol

bongo: oh also

bongo: geos being a mother hen and making me wear a face mask

bongo: u know where they are?

Second drawer down in the bathroom, behind the rubber gloves

bongo: … how did u reply SO fast

Uh i know where things are in our flat? Like a normal person?

bongo: thats sus but ok

bongo: wow theyre actually here

bongo: okay imma head out before it gets dark

What’s after dark? Zombies?

bongo: u never no

bongo: *no

bongo: FUCKING *KNOW

Nice

Okay stay safe ritch

bongo: 😘🙃👍🏼✌🏼✌🏼🌈🌟🥦🥦🥦☮️

***

Ringo has never seen this many people at Tesco in his entire life. Two grown men are having a full on argument in the pastries. A harried-looking dad almost knocks Ringo into a rack of Twinkies, pulling along two screaming kids with one slung on his hip. And… is that person actually wearing a Hazmat suit??

“This is insane,” Ringo mutters to himself, slightly muffled due to the face mask. He just needs to find the loo roll and then he’s going to yeet outta here ASAP.

Okay, hygiene aisle… here we g—what the—

The entire aisle is empty.

It’s like a goddamn Old Western. Just add a cow skull… cue the tumbleweed… and it would be perfect.

Not for the first time that day, Ringo sends a prayer to whoever is listening above. There’s got to be something left. He walks down to the end of the aisle. Walks back. Jumps a couple times to check if there’s anything on the top shelf. Sincerely hopes no one just saw him do that. Finally, shoved at the very back behind a couple of Always boxes, Ringo digs out a dusty as shit six-pack of toilet paper.

Well. It’ll have to do.

As he’s walking to the check out lines, a woman drops her bottle of hand sanitizer. It rolls across the floor in a perfect arc and Ringo scoops it up before it can get too far.

“Oops, you dropped this!” He says cheerily, handing it to her. Well, trying to. The woman makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, physically flinches away from his outstretched hand, and almost drops the rest of her groceries. Before Ringo can react, she’s disappeared behind the produce aisle.

Ringo’s arm falls to his side. He stares at the space where she was just a second ago and holds in a scream.

“More for us, I guess.”

***

By the time Ringo reaches the flat, he’s ready to never see another person again. He trudges right past George in the kitchen, dropping the groceries on the table with a thwack. John hums a greeting to him in the living room and offers him a biscuit.

“No thanks,” Ringo says. He faceplants into the couch.

Something clinks onto the coffee table. Well, coffee table is one way to put it; it’s more of a hunk of stone from back when Paul thought he was going to be the next Michelangelo and get really into classical sculpture. It now sits in the living room and primarily holds George’s textbooks, plus takeout for whenever they don’t feel like cooking (which is all the time), so you can see how that panned out for Paul.

“Tea for you,” George says. He plops onto the floor between the couch and the table and runs a friendly, comforting hand through Ringo’s hair. Ringo practically purrs, leaning into the touch, and George feels his heart melt and trickle through his ribs. “You okay?”

“I’ve lost all faith in humanity,” Ringo mumbles into the cushion. John reaches over and pats him on the back.

“Don’t worry, Ringo. There won’t be any humans to have faith in soon.”

George throws a packet of sugar at John who dodges it, snickering. Ringo groans and tries to sink even deeper into the couch.

And that’s when they hear Paul scream.

#mclennon #starrison #mclennon fanfic #starrison fanfic #john lennon x paul mccartney #george harrison x ringo starr #beatles fanfic #beatles crackfic #kalwrites #idk

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halfbloodglader · 4 years

Text

A Heavy Burden - Gally

Gally x reader - 2,708 words

Request; hey! can u write a gally fic where he likes the reader but is too shy to tell her...some of the other gladers find out and in order to stop them from saying anything gally makes a deal of some sort where he gets beat up every night? It goes on a while but the reader finds him?

lol this one is kinda long. Poor Gally awh man. Just tryna be happy and protect other people

Nothing made sense to him—why he was so angry all the time, irritated by the most minuscule of things and thrown emotionally overboard every time he tried to sleep. Gally wondered if he'd ever feel normal. Though, he also questioned if normal was a thing a person could feel because ever since showing up here three years ago, it certainly wasn't something he'd ever experienced.

Gally walked in the shadow of his peers. He followed in their footsteps, seemingly a mile behind, always calling out to them but nobody ever heard him.

Walking in that empty space between the other Gladers and himself was Y/N. The one person here Gally had fallen in love with at a distance without saying anything. In complete silence, he'd fallen for the kind, selfless and mischievous glader. She herself had reached out and said more hellos to Gally than he'd been brave enough to wave across the Glade back at her. The few conversations they exchanged were short, awkward and blunt. That didn't stop her from always being caring toward him, though. Somedays, she'd bring him water. Others, she'd spend her evening staining the wood he never finished during the day.

Sure, she did these sorts of things for lots of other people. But she was the only one who did those sorts of things for him. The only one here who treated him like he was human.

Maybe, he was completely swept off in his own imagination. He had hopes and dreams that were more than likely beyond unrealistic. What else though, was he supposed to do with these feelings? He was trapped in a stone box with no memory of his former life or hope for a future. Escaping into his imagination and having one single positive part of his day, or person, to think of made life bearable.

Said life though, had gotten a lot worse the past few weeks.

Gally's biggest current regret was not having gone to find Y/N that day she had called out for him. He'd been a coward and hid in the deadheads from her instead of going to find out what it was she wanted him for. Staying in those woods landed him in a far worse situation than he could have ever imagined.

That day, instead of going after Y/N, he hid in the woods with some paper and a pencil. He hid amongst the trees and found his peace in the silence and cold from the fading sun. Of all things to keep his mind off of its own ongoing war, he drew Y/N. Simple drawings, pictures such as the girl with a soft smile crossing her features. Or, her helping Newt in the gardens.

Harmless sketches of this girl who he hardly spoke to on the daily but the thought of her held off that heaviness on his heart. Everyday, the impossibly strong grasp someone or something had on his heart which tried to bend him over forward into to the dirt got stronger. But the few hours of peace he'd spend alone drawing were the moments he felt as if that force dragging him down took a slight break.

That night, Gally was shaken to reality by the sound of boys whispering and trampling over leaves and twigs. They were close. Too close. In a panic, Gally tossed the papers on the ground and kicked as much dirt and debris over them as he could. His efforts probably weren't enough and he knew it.

"Gally!" One of the guys gibed. "We were wondering why you weren't a dinner!"

The builder raised his brows and took a breath. "Don't kid yourselves, you didn't even notice I was gone."

The boy and his fellow slicers snickered.

"Well, he's not wrong." Another added.

Gally rolled his eyes and went to walk away. These slicers had always been out to cause trouble and they weren't worth his time. He wanted out before something boiled up.

"Woah man," The loudest, most aggravating of the boys called out to Gally. "What's this?"

He plucked the papers out of the dirt with stringy fingers and held them up in the dim light. A disturbing smile smeared the moment he recognized the face on the paper. Then, he looked up to Gally and the builder knew he was done for. That heavy weight in his chest completely went away and was replaced by a sickness in his stomach.

Sauntering toward him, Gally felt like he stood in place for hours. His heart was trying to escape.

"Now Gally, I want you to be honest." The boy smirked and flipped the paper around so Gally could see. "Are you an artist and none of us knew? Or is this something you stole from someone else because, y'know, you needed it for something?"

His friends laughed. "Or, maybe both?" He eyed Gally up and down.

The gaze burned at his skin. It was painful. His lungs were creaming and heart was sobbing.

"Fine, I draw. That's it." Gally snapped, his voice breaking. "Now forget about it."

"Oh!" The slicer howled. "You think we're just gonna let you off? What do you think, should we tell her? Show everyone your little secret? How do you think Alby will feel?"

"I don't—"

Stepping closer, the slicer held up the paper right to Gally's face and pointed to Y/N. "I bet she'll be scared as hell of you now."

Gally closed his eyes. He never wanted this to happen. All he wanted was a break for his soul. And sure, drawing someone without their permission wasn't the best way to go about dealing with his problems, but it was all he knew.

"Don't tell anyone." Gally pleaded. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" The guy questioned, surprised. That was a bold move, even coming from Gally. "There's a lot I would ask, but I don't want trouble with Alby..."

He thought for a while. He conversed with his friends. Ultimately, he decided.

"Alright," He shoved the paper against Gally's chest. Immediately, he put it in his pocket. "I want to see how long it takes to break the toughest looking guy here. Every night, you're going to meet us here. We're going to beat you to the ground."

Gally took what he was saying as fact. As part of his life now. It was his only way out.

Stepping closer, the slicer picked up a large stick and swung it back and forth. "Don't worry, we won't leave bruises on your face. Only where they can't see."

"...Don't say anything, and we won't say anything either." He looked to Gally questioningly.

"Deal." He quavered.

Gally braced himself for the first hit.

That began three weeks ago.

He thought about what had happened that night as he lay on the burning cold ground. It burned because his skin felt like it was on fire from all of the hits it had taken. It felt cold because the ground quite literally was cold, seeing as he'd been here all night and dawn had just broken.

His body couldn't be brought to its feet this morning. He'd been getting beaten up for three weeks straight. But, he had to keep to his word and not let anyone know. They couldn't know. It would destroy how everyone here perceived him and his reputation. The reputation that made everyone else keep their distance was something he wanted to keep.

"Oh shit!" A quiet voice snapped as the faint footsteps Gally was hearing came to an immediate halt.

The fear of a body laying unmoving the woods at dawn apparently wasn't enough to stop this person though, because they came rushing to his side. He knew who it was the moment they crashed to their knees right in front of his eyes and put their hands on his face.

"Gally! Are you okay? What's going on?" She shuddered as she felt his forehead for signs of illness.

Unable to speak or move, Gally was just able to lift his arm enough to gently point to his side. His eyes were glued shut from the agony of moving his arm and all he hoped was that she caught on. If anyone were to find him like this, he wasn't exactly enthused it was Y/N, but he needed help and he knew it.

Carefully, the girl lifted his shirt to find a black and blue bruised body. There were wounds new and old still seeping blood. His breaths were shallow, so it was evident he had broken ribs.

"Oh shuck. Don't move. I'll be right back." She sprinted off fasted then he'd ever seen her run. That said a lot because she was fast.

Between the time she'd run off and now, Gally had passed out, probably for the better, and been moved to the medjacks. He'd just woken, but chose to keep his eyes closed for a while longer. He wasn't yet ready to face the world again.

"This doesn't look like it happened just last night. These wounds are layered, some of them a couple weeks old at least." Jeff muttered to Alby.

Alby ran a hand over his head. "Could he have been hurting himself?"

"No," Jeff shook his head. "These couldn't be self inflicted. Someone did it. Someone has been hurting him for a long time."

"Let me know when he wakes up." Alby demanded. "I'm going to find Newt."

Knowing he'd left, Gally slowly opened his eyes. The sun was evidently now fully risen as the medjack hut was well lit and warm. He blinked a few times and the headache crushing his skull was so overbearing he could hear himself blink.

When he turned his head to the side slightly, he was met with a wide-eyed, speechless Y/N. "You're o—"

Y/N's face suddenly fell. "Who did this?"

Her expression changed extremely quick. It went from relief to vexation in a split second.

Gally didn't want to answer that to her. What he could do though, was reach down for that crumpled paper he'd kept with him since the first night. He agonizingly grabbed it and held it up for the girl to take. That one single move required all of the energy he had inside of himself and was more painful than he'd hoped.

At this point, he didn't care anymore. He'd been trying to keep it a secret and was afraid that if Y/N found out how he spent his free time, she'd be disgusted and afraid of him. Besides, he tried to tell himself, that if he really knew the real Y/N, there was no way she'd judge him for this. Y/N wasn't that kind of person.

The girl took it gingerly and unravelled it. A small smile, one Gally knew all too well, lightened her features as she scanned over the paper. "Gally, you're amazing."

The next she looked up, Gally's eyes were already shut and his breathing had steadied. He'd fallen back asleep. For now, she had to let him rest. When he woke though, Y/N was going to be a part of finding out who had done this to him.

Alby and Newt fell into the medjack hut just a little too late. Newt sighed in agony when he saw his friend.

"Did he tell you anything?" Alby asked, putting a hand on Gally's bed.

"No," Y/N shook her head. "He gave me this though. It might have something to do with it."

Newt took the paper and smiled. "Who would've guessed he was such a good drawer." He then passed it off to Alby.

"I think I know who did it." Alby grimaced at the paper. "A few weeks ago, I heard some of the slicers talking about some 'stupid drawings' and then they mentioned Gally over dinner."

Vexed, Alby gave Newt back the paper and turned on his heel as fast as he could.

"Woah!" Newt called out. "You're not going to accuse some boys of a bloody mess like this before we hear it from Gally first. We wait here until he wakes up."

With a deep breath, Newt continued. "He's safe here until then."

Hours had passed before Gally found himself waking again. The medjack hut had begun to cool off and Gally felt the hair on his arms raise from the chill running down his spine. He wanted to get up, move and finally get some food. No injury or illness in the world could stave off Gally's hollow leg.

Slowly, the boy raised himself to a sitting position. He felt lighter despite the fact his body was close to disintegrating. Curious, he lifted his shirt to see the massacre that had been committed on his body. It was just as bad as he'd guessed. The past few weeks, he'd refused to look at it but now was the time. The sight made him sick but the moment he let his shirt down, he forgot about it.

Taking a few deep breaths, Gally prepped himself to stand. He was going to get up and out of this cramped room and face whatever it was outside of that door. Luckily for him, he wouldn't have to do it alone.

Just as he swept his legs over the edge of the bed, a pair of soft eyes peered around the corner into the room Gally was in.

"Hi." She whispered.

Gally smiled sadly. "Hi, Y/N."

"I thought you might be getting cold," She said as she stepped into the room with one of Gally's hoodies. "And thought you might be starving, so I came to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me?"

She paused. "I mean, come get dinner. With all of us. The normal. I don't know what I'm saying."

"That sounds good to me," He tried to laugh but stopped himself from the ache in his ribs. "I'd like to have dinner with you for once."

Y/N smiled awkwardly and handed Gally his hoodie. And though he tried, there was no way Gally was getting it onto his body. In sympathy, Y/N finally reached out and took the pile of fabric back. She reoriented it and then put it over his head and guiding it over his shoulders. By that point, he was able to get his arms in the sleeves and stand himself up.

Slowly, Y/N helped him out of the medjack hut. The air hit him in the face with a startling force. This was the time of day he'd normally head off to the deadheads to meet his nightmare. Y/N noticed him tense.

"You okay?" She asked.

Gally looked down to the girl and blinked a few times. "Yeah."

Y/N locked her arm with his to help hold his balance. "You don't have to worry, alright? There's a bunch of people looking out for you right now."

Gally walked alongside Y/N at a deathly slow pace. Partly because it really did hurt that much to walk and because he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. "What did Alby do? How much does everyone know?"

"He hasn't done anything yet, me and Newt made sure of that." Y/N explained to dampen his worries. "No one else knows. Alby told them all you came down with a nasty bug. We're going to make sure this stays between the few of us and that's it."

"Thank you, really." Gally said. "It almost feels like you guys know me. Know I wouldn't want the others to find out."

Y/N stopped walking for a moment and made Gally look at her. "It's because we do know you. You're our friend, Gally. And we respect how you feel."

"You think I'm your friend?" He questioned self-consciously.

"Are you crazy?" Y/N scoffed. "Of course. It sucks we don't spend more time together."

"Well, I had a reason for the past few weeks." He admitted. Y/N nodded in agreement with that. "But maybe we can change that now? Once all of this blows over."

Y/N smiled lightly and Gally took that as a yes. He still had a lot to worry about as this whole situation got sorted out. Now though, he realized that he did have people on his side. People he could trust.

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #gally the maze runner #gally tmr #the maze runner gally #gally imagine

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flipsideds · 4 years

Text

“ oh, haha... ” a default response to a very non-default situation –– a little post-show, barside rendez-vous with an older man who insists nour has been singing to directly to him the entire night. “ flirting ? i... ”

gentle eyes gloss over the banquet hall’s dimmed lights, bright smiles, flickering electric candles... “ . . . what’s that ? ” and then he’s off, gin and tonic in hand. three strides and it’s already half-drained. yikes.

or, alternatively : greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so graceful, ever so unintentionally magnetic nour al-busiri! below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down. i am so excited to plot & write with all of you !!

( i’m scheduled for a tonsillectomy tomorrow so i’m gonna be so grateful for the distraction, y’all have no idea. )

if you want some great mood-setters for this beb’s backstory / insight into his soul, slap on some jacob collier, kevin garrett, or charlie burg ‘n let’s get cookin’ !

so this is all copy-pasted from a discord chat with devon bc i improvised nour’s entire life story over a span of... 10 minutes ?? bahaha pls enjoy i apologize in advance. ( i also put this in normal text size bc it is v long and i don’t want anyone hurting their eyes !! protect dem beautiful retinas <3 )

h i s t o r y .

his parents met in grade school in egypt, but then didn't reconnect until their masters studies crossed paths in london... immediately fell head over heels again ( had they been searching for one another in crowds since being 6-7 years old?? maybe... ). graduated top of their class, accepted job offers in london in the biopharmaceutical realm. but then. when nour was 3...

they were involved in a freak monorail accident on their way back from a science conference in amsterdam. the babysitter paid 80 quid to watch the kids for two nights became their sole protector in this world. british authorities had trouble contacting other kin, but managed to reach mr. al-busiri's mother, rashida, who was still living in dahab with her second husband, zaim.

the al-busiri's came from old money. so off nour goes ( and potentially his older bro if i decide he exists... potential wc with a rami malek fc tbh ) to live in the city which, unbeknownst to him, sparked his parents' storybook love.

so nour grows up in this like... picturesque seaside childhood. collects shells. bonds with his grandmother and her husband. they encourage him with school, etc. but he quickly shows that he excels at maths and... music? wow. that's unexpected. gets his first piano at 5. first guitar at 6. by 8 1/2, he's managed to hodge-podge together a little recording studio for himself in his bedroom, and he's constantly serenading his friends at school.

( death tw / illness tw ) then comes zaim's stroke. he lives for four months after, but he loses his ability to speak. his motor skills deteriorate. nour and his grandmother do their best to tend to him –– she's already about 40% down the macular degeneration path, but hasn't told him yet that her vision's going. so 10 y/o nour does what he does best: unconditional love and support, delivered through the gift of song. zaim dies after requesting his favorite song: 'blackbird' by the beatles, sung in verses alternating from english to arabic.

after, it's just nour and rashida against the world ( maybe his brother too bergorghre if i decide he's a thing ) . rashida's forced to come clean about her vision the day she can't for the life of her find the bloody pen she just put down so she can finish signing off on nour's choir trip permission slip. ( it's right next to her, to her left, just out of her closing field of vision. ) things progress more rapidly after that. by the time nour's 16, his grandmother is legally blind. it's not an uncommon sight to see him at the markets or strolling along the beach with her on his arm. she refuses canes as long as nour's around. ( “ don't rob me of my youth, nuri-nuri [ my light ] ” )

despite her growing dependency on him, she encourages him to apply to unis all over the globe. by the time college apps roll around, nour is somewhat of a local household name: he plays summer concerts, coffee shops, and is even asked to play at his teacher's wedding ceremony –– and his neighbor's cat funeral.

acceptances roll in. julliard. berkeley. chicago school of music. he chooses chicago, because there's someone there. someone he connected with online a few years back, a friend, but... could turn into something more. this hopeless romantic heedlessly ventures off to find out if this boy in chicago might... be someone. something more.

spoiler alert: he gets to chicago, starts music school. and each meet-up they set? gets pushed. sometimes it's traffic. a cold. transit trouble. can't get work off, sorry. things with ma are really tough. the excuses kept coming but... nour's naive. he believes every word. but in his second year of uni, things....... start getting suspicious. by chance, he spots this man in the window of a coffee shop downtown. overjoyed, he texts as much. but ... messages go read and unanswered. phone calls dwindle.

his music suffers. so does his muse. so much so that he's tempted to drop out, to throw in the towel, to just...... go back home. he speaks with his grandmother each day on the phone. she's doing well, stop worrying, nuri-nuri, your uncle is taking good care of me. nour goes on dates. thinks about chicago boy. thinks about him a lot.

he's 20 when it happens. sat on a stage in a little dive bar, tuning his acoustic guitar for an opening number, and there. those eyes. he knows them.

they talk after the show, in the alley. share a cigarette. and it's almost like... maybe things are finally clicking. maybe this is finally their shot.

except chicago boy ( neil ) says they have to stop talking. that he had to just... see nour for himself. see that he's real. hear him sing, and... move on. nour doesn't buy it. pushes back. asks why the hell neil'd come out now only to slink back to the shadows. things get heated. neil yells. and the men... the men who hear and come running ? they think nour is the cause of it all.

( hate crime tw, violence tw ) how many kicks does it take to break to the center of a broken heart ? twelve. how many broken ribs does it take to immobilize a probably terrorist, dude ? four. shattered wrist. snapped ankle. broken arm. cracked skull. and neil scuttles off like nour's bad meat. bad blood. like he asked for this.

chicago school of music receives a call from weiss memorial three days later.

nour never gets his degree. he breaks his apartment lease. flies home after he heals, spends a year with his grandmother and uncle. just... creating. writing, playing, trying to fill that void with something. but then things with his uncle get heated. he wants to put his own mother in a home, sell the estate, pocket the cash. nour fights it, but he's got no legal bearing.

the nursing home concept never takes hold, though, because his grandmother's still sharp as shit and refuses to sign anything nour doesn't read first. eventually the uncle grows tired of fighting and stops trying, just... slinks back to his husband and keeps his mouth shut. nour's grandmother pressures him to go back to chicago, make that city wish he never left. take back his own story. together they work to find a live-in aide they trust. freshly 22, nour ventures back to the city that broke him.

he finds cheap housing, a gig. the malnati, seems legit. good money. good exposure. and then he meets @ryderxmms –– they form one night stand. when not scheduled for malnati banquets, you can find nour providing vocals ( and occasional keys ) in the dive bars / parties the band lands gigs at.

g e n e r a l .

nour creates like food and drink don’t exist, sunlight is an illusion, and all the human body needs for sustenance is sound. he can find his way around just about any instrument under the sun, but his main poisons are piano, acoustic guitar, and digital recording tools –– think jacob collier and you’re right on the money.

actually, i’m stealing a lot of jacob collier discography and pegging it as his creations. this kid’s got an experimental sound and loves it.

he grew up speaking english and arabic equally, but because he learned english in london and then continued in egypt, he does have a mild brit-arab accent. it’s v cute, i promise.

looks like he’d be a total lothario, yeah ?? but. he’s so shy ? so sweet ? get him on a stage and he’s shameless but plop him in a bar and eye him up and he’ll honestly just smile nervously and pretend you’re looking at someone else.

love languages : singing to his succulents and plants before his 5am morning runs. facetime calls at times least convenient for him, but most convenient for you. little notes written on napkins, smiley face doodles included. candy bars. lingering a little longer in doorways after saying hello, just to see you smile.

he’s got major water sign vibes. birthday comin’ up in march, woot woot !!

he often wears very simple statement pieces. he likes rings, crystal pendants, leather bracelets. soft tees layered with embroidered jackets, metallic blazers. somehow he pulls off mixed media and crazy prints that should never go together ? he just... is so easy breezy.

he often wears his hair wild ‘n curly, unless the gig he’s got mandates a more streamlined look.

falls in love.... 14 times a day ?? really.

has a scar across his left temple from the incident with neil. will probably write it off as a bike riding accident. ( he doesn’t know how to ride a bike. )

don’t let him cook ever, okay ?? unless you want him to literally do this.

pls come at me for all the plots ? i’m so open for all the things !!! y’all got me on discord, so feel free to slide on into my dms. i promise i will be so thrilled <3

#intro.#☼ –– gimme that afterglow ! inspo.

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paladin-andric · 5 years

Text

Jotober, Day 3: Bait

Today, we see a short story that’s about something more familiar than you realize...a strange merchant wonders into an unusual land, only...

“So, you’re headed west, eh?”

A koutu and a human sat in front of one another at a table in a small inn, the pair sipping drinks as they spoke. The place was cramped and a little dingy, but it was fairly nice by middle-of-nowhere countryside standards. The heat made the koutu within chafed, but the human didn’t seem too bothered.

“Yeah!” the human said ecstatically, “I’m headed to Nerthness!”

“And you’re fat with riches to sell, yes?”

“That’s right!” the man said with a big nod, “Why? You wanna buy something?”

The koutu that resembled a raven shook his head. “Naw, ain’t got the coin for any nice things...but good luck.”

The dusty-looking human with moppy hair frowned. “Umm...say...I was wondering...are you from here?”

“I sure am.”

“Oh, well, this is my first time in the land of the Koutu, and this road is really confusing...do you think you could tell me how to get to the city?”

The raven, with a scar across his eye grinned so nastily that his ill-intentions would be obvious to anyone...save the oblivious human.

“Of COURSE. See, there’s a secret path that cuts hours and hours off of the trip. I use it all the time.”

“Really?! That’s wonderful!”

“Oh yeah, here, let me show you…”

The man put his map down on the table and the koutu quickly honed in on where they were.

“This is where we are, the inn right here. Now if you look to the west you’ll see the path veers off to the side to avoid a forest...go right in and once you’re through you’ll emerge right in front of Nerthness...see?”

“Oh...wow! That’s perfect! I’ll be at a coaching house before sundown!”

“Mmhm. Just a handy little tip I learned from all the merchants that come this way.”

“I see! Thank you so much, mister! You’re a lifesaver!”

The koutu’s grin was as wide as ever. “Don’t mention it. Sometimes a friend can just make things so much easier, you know?”

“That’s right! You know, if I had more on me I’d cover your meal!”

The koutu’s grin faded. “You don’t have any gold?”

“O-oh, well I do, but I have to think ahead! I need to pay a warehouse to keep my goods safe, and pay for travel expenses and rooms for the week ahead...I’m not carrying too much gold, but I have LOTS and LOTS of expensive goods on me! Golden plates and blessed trinkets, you know?”

The raven began to grin once again. “Ahh...that’s good. Very good. Don’t worry about it, human. I’m glad I met you. I hope you make a big profit off this journey.”

“Thank you very much! I hope you have a wonderful day, mister!”

“It’s Edgar. And might be…?”

“O-oh! I’m, uh, John!”

“John...good to see you, John.”

“You too! I hope to see you again!”

As the human brought his empty tankard over to the bar and began to count coins, Edgar shook his head and spoke quietly to himself.

“Sooner than you think.”

John set out down the road, traveling deeper into the Koutu Kingdom. He was a merchant here on business, to sell wares in a land where they were rarer so that they’d sell for a lot more than usual.

The bumbling merchant fumbled for his map to double check, and sure enough, this was the place. He went straight for the forest, forgoing the safe and easy road for the supposed shortcut.

Soon, the beautiful, serene plains of the western kingdom and the shining sun faded away as countless trees obscured all sight of the land. The breezing tall grass and rolling hills were temporarily forgotten about as the merchant went deeper and deeper in, his massive backpack and pouches doing his situation no favors.

Just as he considered taking a few minutes to relax, the man heard rusting from the side. He turned and squinted, calling out loudly. “Hello? Who’s there?!”

Emerging from the treelines, several koutu stepped out to greet him. They wore cloth, with no armor in sight. Some held bows, while others had spears or knives. Among the rabble of unscrupulous looking koutu was a figure John recognized.

“...Edgar?”

“John,” he returned quietly. The group of about ten koutu began to approach. “Good to see you again! Are these friends of yours?”

“Of a sort.”

As they reached the man, they spread out and circled around him. “Ah, but I’m afraid it isn’t so good to be seeing each other, unfortunately.”

After all this time, the reality of the situation finally got through to the oblivious human. His eyes widened and he began to quiver and shake, clutching his backpack straps in a vice grip.

“W-wait, E-Edgar...y-you’re not gonna…”

“Sorry, John.” the koutu frowned as he looked at the terrified human. “I can’t say I’m enjoying this. Usually the fat cats that stroll through here are insufferable, but you seem like a real nice fellow.”

“Oh, just hold him down already!” a white koutu yelled, her patience at an end.

“I-I thought we were friends…”

Edgar sighed. “This is going to come back to bite me...but you’re a good man, John. Just hand over the goods and we won’t hurt you.”

“Edgar!” the koutu from before cried, “What if he tells?!”

“Than we move. We’ve done it before, haven’t we?”

“I don’t know,” a timid sounding koutu muttered, “O-our supplies are so low…”

“We won’t last the month,” another koutu agreed, “This is a bad idea, Edgar.”

The raven grimaced and turned to the others. “You don’t need to worry. This guy’s loaded. We’ll pawn off his riches, buy a load of food, and move out. Alright?”

The mutterings of agreement were unenthused, but they yielded to their leader.

“Fine...fine…”

“Very good,” Edgar nodded at John. “Now, hand over the bag. No funny business. If you don’t try anything, you’ll be on your way soon enough.”

The human nodded and dropped his backpack. The koutu quickly moved to secure it. Edgar crouched down and opened it, and as he moved to rummage through it...

“...what the hell?!”

“What’s up, boss?” Edgar stood up and pulled out a pile of wool from the massive bag. “The hell is this?!”

Instead of answering him, the human began to shift and distort, his visage warping as his true self emerged.

In place of the windswept human in fancy clothes, a short and spindly koutu resembling a crow in robes stood looking at the raven.

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize, now. It’s over.”

“What are you-”

A thwack made Edgar jump, and he turned to see an arrow stuck in the trunk of the tree beside him, just inches from his head.

“Next one’s going in your skull,” a booming voice announced from the distance, “No sudden movements.”

The gang of koutu slowly turned to see, to their utter disbelief, dozens of other koutu approaching in formation, with spearmen at the front and archers in the back. All the way at the back, a Koutu in a vibrant red cape stood with his longbow trained on the group.

“W-we’ve been had!” the raven announced, horror apparent on his face.

“Sorry, Edgar,” the crow said with a smile, “You’re the one getting tricked this time!”

As the soldiers began to grab and tie up the bandits, Edgar’s horror gave way to grim acceptance. His head lowered as a soldier took him into custody.

“I can’t believe it. I got so careless…”

One of the other koutu let out a yelp as the ropes were tightened around his wrists. “H-hey! Not so tight! I didn’t do anything!”

The white koutu out a ‘tsk’ and gave the leader a tired look. “Not your fault, boss. We fell for it too.”

The gang leader didn’t struggle as his wings were bound. “I suppose that’s it, then. You lawmen, listen! I’m in command here! Give these fellows a little leniency, yeah? They just got swept up in my lies is all.”

The others all turned and looked at him in surprise. They hadn’t been expecting him to throw himself under the wagon like that, but they remained silent to honor his wishes.

The ‘merchant’ crossed his arms and frowned. “You seem pretty nice, Edgar. You know, I bet in another time, we could have been really good friends.”

The ringleader turned and looked over his shoulder as the soldiers began to escort him away, an expression of regret on his face. “Perhaps so, little fellow, perhaps so…”

As the soldiers began to clear out with the bandits in tow, a lone koutu stayed behind and quickly approached the false merchant. The striking visage he was familiar with grinned as he approached, quickly sweeping the smaller koutu in a tight embrace.

“Ah, my dear Eignach! How worried I was!”

“Razorwing!” The crow cried back joyfully, “I’m okay!”

“Ah, I can’t believe how well that worked! You even made them feel about their bandrity! What a diplomat you are!”

“I told you I’d be the perfect bait!” “Still...to think what might have happened…”

“It did get pretty scary...but I knew you’d protect me!”

The hero looked down at Eignach and smiled, their beaks mere inches from one another.

“Of course, I’ll always be there for you, Eignach. I’ve made that vow time and again, haven’t I?”

The two of them shared this moment for a short while longer before Razorwing frowned at the younger man.

“Still, I don’t want anymore of this! Not until you finish your studies and become a good magician, okay?”

Eignach grinned like a loon. “I’ll become a master sorcerer in no time if it means going on adventures with you, Razorwing.”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae, @purpleshadows1989

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hailqiqi · 6 years

Text

Here

Look who’s back from a three month writing slump!

So I saw this picture by the incredibly talented @artemisarya and... I had to fic it.

This is really more platonic than shippy. Even though they’re naked.

Quick shout-out to @astraearose for the impromptu title help.

1,244 words / Hurt/Comfort

On AO3 here.

The shrill scream brought him back to himself with a rush of heat and steam and sound.

“Shit!”

His back hit the cooler side of the bathroom door seconds later, the image of a naked Pidge with shampoo in her hair bringing him more self-disgust than arousal. They’d been using the Castle’s shared bathroom for over a year now. How the fuck had he managed to miss the sound of the shower?

The same way he’d managed to miss—

“Lance?”

Pidge’s voice was gentle, and not nearly angry enough. Lance closed his eyes. Maybe he could pretend he’d left already, and then he wouldn’t have to face her. He could grovel in the morning. They could pretend everything was fine.

That plan went to hell when the door slid open. He flopped backwards with a cry of surprise, saved from an untimely meeting with the metal flooring only by the girl herself.

“Are you okay?! What were you doing on the door?”

“I…” Lance let her help him to stand upright before turning around, careful to avert his gaze from how she clutched at a towel to protect her modesty. “I...I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

I guess I’m good at that.

Pidge blinked at him, concerned. “Right. Look, you obviously need to…” she trailed off, glancing briefly at his chest before continuing. “Ah... shower, and I don’t mind waiting, so you go first, okay?”

Her words didn’t make sense. “I go first…?” he repeated. “But you’re already…”

“Yeah, but, obviously you need to wash more…” She gestured vaguely at his bare torso with her free hand. “And I’m like, half-clean already, so I don’t mind just calling it a night.”

Oh. Right. The blood.

She was already inching her way around him when he found the wherewithal to respond, something unpleasant curling in his gut. “No, you stay and finish. I’ll just wait.”

“Look, Lance, you obviously need to—”

“Stay,” he said firmly, grasping her shoulders and moving her back in front of him. “Please. I’d feel worse if I knew I’d kicked you out of your shower after barging in on you like that.”

Her mouth fell open, as if to argue, and he cut her off. “You wouldn’t be doing me any favours.”

She stared at him, disbelieving, and he looked away rather than meet her gaze. Wisps of steam floated in the air behind her, and the only sounds were the low humming of the ship and the steady drip, drip, drip where Pidge obviously hadn’t turned the water off properly.

Warm fingers curled around his. “You can join me, then.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “What—?”

“Don’t make it weird, Lance,” she huffed, already tugging him into the room and closing the door behind them. “C’mon. I’ll help you wash all that off.”

A part of him was grateful that she hadn’t said the word. The rest of him was too numb and overwhelmed to respond, his brain having given up the fight somewhere between ‘becoming a mass murderer,’ ‘almost dying,’ and ‘seeing his first naked woman in real life’.

It was shaping up to be a really weird day. Probably would have been more enjoyable if it wasn’t for the screams still echoing in his skull.

He didn’t protest when Pidge cast her towel aside and reached for his, her fingers making quick work of the knot at his waist. Then she pulled him towards the shower, pushing him towards the middle as she keyed in the settings for a shower like the ones they had at home.

Hot water hit his skin and he turned his face to meet the spray, the hissing of the shower muting the screaming to a dull buzz and washing away the last of his bravado. Behind him Pidge murmured a warning and he nodded mutely, barely acknowledging when her hands began smoothing soap over his skin.

Pidge cleaned his back slowly, her motions unhurried and meticulous. He could only imagine the mess his back was — from the way she scrubbed at patches, the blood must have been caked on thick — but Pidge made no comment, and Lance wasn’t brave enough to look down and see the red swirling down the drain. Lifeblood lost twice, now, because of him.

Instead he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the physical. The here and now. He’d always loved hot showers, even on the hottest of summer days, and despite the mission he could feel the weight in his heart slowly evaporate with the steam. The presence at his back and the gentle kneading of warm fingers against his taut muscles eased a small part of the tension knotting in his throat, and he was suddenly very, very glad that Pidge was with him.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

Her motions paused. “What for?”

“Just…” He lifted a hand over his shoulder, catching her fingers in his and holding them briefly. “For this.”

“Oh.” She chuckled softly, then pressed a soft kiss against his back. “Anytime.”

She resumed her work, steadily working her way lower until she finally nudged him to turn around so that she could work on his front. All he could do was admire her, drowning in an almost overwhelming wave of gratitude as she slowly cleaned the evidence away, treating his body with all the care and focus she bestowed on her beloved robotics. More, even. Clearly, more. He’d seen her work on countless robots, and she’d never looked quite like that, never so attentive and compassionate and caring.

He didn’t deserve it.

Her hands moved back up to his collarbone, a flash of red in his peripheral vision, and the knot in his throat suddenly became too much to bear. “Pidge, stop.”

She froze, hands still against his skin. “...Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I…” No, no, not that. Never that. He removed her hand, letting it drop by her side instead. “I— I don’t deserve this. I missed.”

Pidge took a half-step back, her lips parted in a little ‘o’-shape as she studied him. Her eyes were full of concern — concern for him, but it was wasted. Who was he to stand here and accept her care? She was allowing herself to be naked before him, to be vulnerable before him, and he couldn’t even save—

The shower wasn’t helping anymore.

“Pidge, I missed,” he repeated, hoping she’d get the hint and leave because he didn’t think he had the strength to leave her. “Pidge, I missed.”

“I know.”

“Pidge, I missed.” She wasn’t leaving. Why wasn’t she leaving? “I missed, and they all died. All those kids died, because I missed the guy with the bomb.”

It was an easy shot. The sky had been blue, the weather perfect, but somehow he’d missed and then the next thing he knew the world had exploded in heat and noise and pain and the only thing he could process were the screams the screams the screams.

Pidge stepped towards him, gentle hands wrapping around his back and pressing him to her, pulling him back from the edge before he could fall too far. Lance sucked in a breath and they stood, frozen, echoing screams slowly fading into the sound of falling water.

When he couldn’t hear them anymore he swallowed, trembling, his voice barely a whisper.

“Pidge, I missed.”

She only held him tighter.

“I know, Lance. I was there.”

He buried his face in her sodden hair and cried.

#plance #my writing #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #pance #do we still use all the ship names?#or have we like finally settled on plance #langst #ish #sorry #i dunno where this angst came from #blame artemisarya?

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undertaleheadcannonsfromagremlin · 5 years

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Can I have meetcute headcanons for FS Papryus, US Sans, MT skelebros and UT Sans for an artist S/O

I’m amusing that you wanted some headcanons for when the skeles meet their artistic s/o?

FellSwap Papyrus- Rus doesn’t actually leave the house much, mostly due to anxiety and other issues that he deals with, rather wanting to be in the comfort of his own home, than be out and just feeling out of place. So, why on earth was he out of the house? Oh, right, Mal demanded, out of some hidden concern, that he needs to at least go out every once in a while and that he couldn’t be cooped up in the house all day. So, he was somewhere quite, lazing about, a park specifically. There was no one around, at least he didn’t see anyone that was in the nearby vicinity as him, he had to admit, it was a nice day out, it was peaceful up on the surface. Much better then the underground, which he was thankful that things had changed, even in the slightest. A small, yet shy voice caught his attention, his head snapping in the direction of the voice, he was startled that he didn’t even hear the person coming, he could feel the panic rising in him. “… -ey. Hey! I- uh, I hope you don’t mind, but can I draw you?” The voice finally reached him, in which he was surprised, this person wanted to draw them? He noticed that their cheeks were flushed red in embarrassment, clearly as nervous as he feels right now. They seemed to not be much of a social person like him. Though he did something odd, he gave them consent to draw him. And he spent hours in the park, the two talked, and he had learned that the human absolutely loved creating things, and drawing others, it seemed that they truly wanted to draw him, and they held no ill intentions towards him. The two were a bit dorky while talking, some jokes being exchanged between the two, before the person was done, showing him the sketch of him. “I’ll be able to finish it later tonight, if your here tomorrow, I would love to give it to you and talk to you again!” the person ended up writing their phone number on a piece of paper, along with their name, sending the biggest, cheerful smile his way as they left, his gaze then going to the piece of paper that held that person’s name and number. Their name was s/o, huh…

Underswap Sans- It had been a few months since the monsters had been living on the surface, and there was still so much to see, Blue just loved how there were so many new and different things on the surface, and now he had a chance to try new things! Currently, he, along with Stretch, were walking through a park, where there was a strange, yet special thing going on, something called… Art in the park? That sounded interesting, and of course, he just had to check it out, Blue led the way as Stretch walked a leisure pace behind him, taking his sweet time. Not that Blue expected differently, his brother always did this type of stuff, he was too relaxed for his own good, sometimes-! His eye sockets slightly widened as he saw that they had arrived, and much to his pleasant surprise, it was lively, colorful, it showed off all the different art types, and it was all beautiful! His eyelights turned into stars, amazed by how many talented people there were here, though his eyesockets landed on some specific art, that absolutely too his breathe away- it was a beautiful portrait of the cliffside over the ocean, a light, but cloudy sunset in the background. It reminded him of when he saw the first sunset, how he was in a happy daze, staring to the colorful sky as it was darkening. Without even realizing it, he headed over to where the portrait was, up until he was in front of it, admiring it, when he heard a light, but amused voice speak, “Ah, you like it?” That voice was soft, gentle in a way, his gaze swiftly moved from the portrait to the person in front of him, the person having a shy smile on their face, a tinge of red on their cheeks. “It’s beautiful! It reminds me of the first time I saw the sunset!” he spoke, excitedly, his eyes returning to the portrait. “You know, if you want it you can have it. You have the artist consent to, hun.” the person spoke, his head snapping towards the person, eyes wide, this person made this masterpiece? It was beautiful! “R-really?” he spoke, his voice wavering slightly, the person worked hard on it, it wasn’t right for him to take it from them. “Yeah, really. Mind telling me your name? I’m s/o.”

Mafiatale/Mobtale Papyrus- Now, Sweet Cheeks was a more sociable, and most of the time people don’t even realize he was in the mafia, which was good for him, considering that it does help out with his job, when he needed information, to spy, or if he needed to give some “tips” to the police about others. Yeah, he sometimes helps the police with things, only because he wanted to be part of the police force ever since he was a small skeleton-! Currently, he was walking down the street, of a bad neighborhood, there were little to no people outside, as he was passing an alleyway, he heard a praying sound coming from the alley, which caught his attention. Much to his dismay, his curiosity got to the better of him, in which he decided to check out what was happening. He caught sight of a person, that was shorter then him, creating a work of art on the wall of the building with different spray paints, the person wearing a face mask, covering the lower half of the face, only their eyes visible. It was a rather pleasant artwork that they had created, the colors and the details work well together. “You’re pretty good at this stuff, aren’t cha?” he questioned, he may or may not have startled the person, a small squeak of surprise escaping their lips as their head snapped in his direction, their eyes scanning him, before their shoulders slumped slightly. “You sure know how to sneak up on someone.” they mused, neither confirming or denying his question. Before he could question why exactly they were spray painting on the wall, they spoke, “You know, it’s a shame how many people put some less the pleasurable things on the walls in this neighborhood. I thought I might change it up for once.” Gathering their supplies into a backpack, they were ready to leave, to go on their way to god knows where. “Your art is pretty good, much better then most of the graffiti around here.” He spoke, catching the person’s attention, he assumed that the movement behind their face mask was them smiling now. “Awe, thanks. I’m still getting the hang of doing graffiti, it’s a new type of art for me to try out. It’s pretty fun!” they spoke with a small laugh, the laugh was actually really nice sounding. He wouldn’t mind hearing them laugh again, honestly. “I’ll see you around…” they spoke, hinting at his name, in which, for some reason, he gave, maybe it was in hope that he truly would meet them again, “Sweet Cheeks.” “Sweet Cheeks, huh… That suits you. I’m s/o, “ and after that, they were quick to depart.

Mafiatale/Mobtale Sans- Killer ad a problem that he had to deal with, another gang was tagging their territory, it was annoying, and they were not going to get away with it, the graffiti that was often left was derogatory, and vile. Not something that he liked seeing when he was traveling for “meetings” and other types of things he does for his mafia. Whoever was leaving the derogatory graffiti wasn’t going to live to see another day. A humming caught his attention, hearing a can spray things, a smirk on his skull as he knew that he most likely got the brats that were leaving their marks. That was, until he saw who was doing the graffiti over the ones that were vile, the person was actually covering it with something that was quite appealing. “I wouldn’t suppose you know who has been leaving the graffiti you’re covering up?” he questioned, the person jumping ever so slightly at his voice, turning around with a nervous smile. “Naw, I don’t. I just don’t want to see those dumbasses leaving these things out here for everyone to see. I’d rather cover it with… Art.” the person hummed, before continuing, I mean, this person was doing a good job at covering the tags of the other gang, which was good. “You know, its dangerous to be doing this type of stuff out here. Is it really worth the risk?” Why was he even concerned? Maybe because it was not a good idea doing this type of stuff with god knows who nearby. “I think it is. I’d rather cover the darker parts of life with the beauty of creation… Ah! It’s getting late! I’m sure I’ll be back here later to cover up more vandalism, hopefully I can see you again, sometime soon!” the person spoke, quickly packing up, and taking their leave. Huh, maybe they would see that person again…

Undertale Sans- Honestly, he was doing this favor for Toriel, since Frisk had signed up for art class when school started, and she had asked Sans to help them, along with Papyrus, to get Frisk’s school supplies, Papyrus and Frisk going to pick out clothes and other things, while Toriel got the boring things, and he was left with getting the art supplies that Frisk is required to bring to their art class, he was getting them at a local art store, where they sold supplies, art made by local artist, and materials that large brand stores don’t normally sell that could be used for art. Sans glanced at the list, a light sigh escaping him, he was going to get this done. A light tap on his shoulder got him out of his daze, as a person with kind eyes looked at him, a smile on their face as they asked, “I-uh, I couldn’t help but notice you looked a bit lost… It must be your first time in here. I can help you- only if you want- I mean- I-!” the person spoke, face flushing from embarrassment as they stuttered, stumbling over their own words, a light chuckle escaping him as he watched them, this would get things done faster, surely, but by the looks of it, they don’t work there, so why were they helping him? There were always people with ulterior motives, but there are also people that just enjoy helping others. There’s no way too truly know the intention of others until you see the side they don’t let on. “Sure, kiddo. You can help me if you want.” It was much faster with someone who knew where the supplies were, and what supplies were the best, but also affordable. “…So your friend is doing art in school? That’s cool! I hope they enjoy it as much as I did back in school.” the person spoke with a smile, though their smile faltered ever so slightly, when they realized something, “I forgot to introduce myself, my bad, the name is s/o!”

Hopefully this is good for your standards, haha

#undertale headcanons #undertale sans #papyrus #sans #mobtale #mafiatale #underswap #fellswap #rus #blue #sweet cheeks #killer

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inkbun · 6 years

Note

What if Sombra got into a heated argument with her S/O but before they can settle it out they get called on a mission. Things go south and her S/O almost dies and gets amnesia?

Ooh, I liked writing this one. Doing everything but the amnesia part for the sake of time, but if you send a follow-up reminder I’ll write a sequel. Enjoy! 💔

(Warning: *Very* slight gore and drug mentions, if you’re sensitive to that sort of stuff)

Sombra

Words: 1,860

Genre: Romance, Angst & Tragedy

“You lied to me, Olivia,” you snarled, dashing your tablet on the table. The screen cracked, but you hardly cared. “I trusted you, and you screwed me over…again.”

“I didn’t lie,_______,” snapped Sombra, violet eyes caught between fury and fear.

She reached out to you, touch pleading. You swatted her away.

No matter how much you wanted to trust her—no, needed to—she found a way of screwing things up. At first, it’d been minor slip-ups: a shady infiltration here, a wetwork operation there. It was grey as hell and heinous in spots, but you didn’t sign up for Blackwatch to be a moral paragon.

After all, you’d sought her out like bees after honey. Forget that you’d made a rule against sleeping with your colleagues, having turned down both Lena’s and Jamison’s advances before.

She was technicolor bright, had you wrapped around her manicured finger from the first “Hey there.”

Brilliant, playful and menacing—it was a combination you’d never run across before. Her laugh was intoxicating, vanished all good sense and thrust you into her web for the better part of eight months.

Things were a little disjointed—she had a habit of sneaking up on you during work, and your schedules were out-of-sync due to last minute missions.

Still it progressed, the two of you declaring yourselves exclusive two months of dating.

Four months in and you’d saved her life during an omnic ambush at Petra—it was the first time she said “I love you.” You stayed with her in the infirmary until she was better, made it a point to volunteer for her missions whenever they had an extra spot.

Though relationships were officially forbidden between agents, Sombra made a point of kissing you on the dropship before and after each mission. “Para la buena suerte,” she’d say, tapping a finger against your lip.

Six months in, she shattered your heart.

While you didn’t approve of the “side hustle” excursions she did for Commander Reyes, it never took her away from you for more than three days. So, when she disappeared for a full week on a recon mission with no comms contact, you assumed the worst.

You asked around for her, going so far as visiting the younger Shimada for intel. No one saw hide nor purple hair, widening the pit of loss in your chest to a cavern that left you dazed. You’d just begun to grieve, bawling quietly in your room until she unexpectedly returned to base.

Except she wasn’t your Olivia.

For starters she was blonde, augments switched from purple to pink. She was twitchy and short, bouncing from gleeful to irritated in the span of minutes.

When you asked where she’d been, she answered with a cryptic “away,” before distracting you with vicious kisses that backed you onto your bed.

To your shame it worked, sheer relief of having her home outweighing your curiosity.

That is, until a baggy fell from her go-bag when you were cleaning your quarters.

It was packed with white powder, a pink sugar skull on the front. You secretly took it to the lab, ignoring Dr. O'Deorain’s scowl as you handed over the suspicious packet. Her accented voice told you what already knew.

“Cocaine—Los Muertos product by the looks of it.” Shaken, you confronted Sombra, hoping she had a good explanation.

She did. “A party favor from Don Galano, nothing more,_________. I couldn’t get the intel Reyes needed without a show of faith.“

You believed her. Sombra wasn’t a Girl Scout and you weren’t a fool.

Los Muertos was a serious international gang and her connections were a great source of intel for Overwatch. Still, you didn’t like how quickly she’d resumed that dangerous persona.

The ordeal blew over, though she insisted on finishing the Muertos’ coke and keeping the blonde hair.

Discomfort lodged in your chest until at last you turned to her one night, pulling her close against you. Trembling, you pressed a kiss to her forehead; your words came out choked.

”Promise you won’t take as many risky missions, Liv—or at least tell me before you do? I can’t lose you.“

“I promise, mi cielo.”

And then she did it again.

This one cut you to the quick, hurt compounded by the “cover” she’d assumed. Reyes sent Sombra and McCree to intercept a Talon-bound weapons shipment ferried by Deadlock. Jesse was playing prodigal son, supposed to ask for an “in” on a courier mission to prove his loyalty.

Olivia played his girlfriend, leveraging her notoriety as Sombra to lend some credibility to the farce.

You knew this not because she told you, but because you happened to pass by the Blackwatch control room on your way to the R&D wing. Genji, O'Deorain and Reyes were huddled around a screen, headsets on as they monitored the situation. Backup teams were on standby to bust the deal, but the Deadlock leader was skeptical of Jesse’s loyalty.

“You show up outta nowhere and expect me to believe you, Jess?” said the portly man, hand fingering a revolver. “I don’t. Now your lady here—she’s different. I’ve seen what she can do.”Reyes’ voice rung out, jolting your terrified trance. “Sell it, Colomar. We need those weapons.”

So she did. You heard her speak the words, your heart caught between betrayal and worry for her safety—Deadlock wasn’t known for their mercy.

“And I’ve seen what he can do,” she rasped, trailing a finger down Jesse’s shoulder. “If I didn’t think he was back for real I would’ve shot him myself. He’s got my stamp of approval, O'Toole…”

Sombra trailed off, turning to face McCree. You had a good idea where this was going, had seen that same heavy-lidded gaze leveled at you so many times before.

“Don’t, Liv—please,” you whispered, not caring if anyone heard you. They didn’t, and neither did she.

Sombra closed the gap and kissed McCree, looping her arms around his shoulders as he took her hips.

It was enough to break you. An inhuman noise ripped from your throat, grabbing Genji’s attention.

You scurried away before he caught up, ignoring cries of “__________, come back!”

She doesn’t care, she doesn’t care… The miserable song kicked in your head for three days, visions of her slung around McCree enough to make you ill.

Mission or not, you hated that she was so quick to ignore the one request you’d made of her. Her refusal to tell you about the mission coupled with her kissing Jesse ached something awful.

Reeling from the hurt, you stormed 76’s office and accepted the first high-risk mission you could, bypassing his concerns with a growled,“Do it.”

Sombra’s voice tore you from your thoughts, brought them back to the woman who’d carved your heart out. “I told you, it was part of the mission and I couldn’t tell—”

“Just stop!” you shouted, slinging your go-bag over your shoulder. Furious tears wet your cheeks, belying the little composure you’d maintained. “The coke I could get past. I wasn’t happy about it, but I got why. As long as you don’t pick it up again, I’m fine. But fucking McCree? He’s been after you for months and you jump at the first opportunity to pose as his girlfriend?”

“He’s not been after me…” she started, shadow of guilt on her face.

“You’re many things, Liv; stupid ain’t one of ‘em. After you, interested in you—however you put it, he wants sex and you dangled it in front of him without a goddamn thought for how I’d feel about it…you didn’t even tell me where you were going. Again.”

Sombra’s worry hardened to outrage. “You think I’d cheat on you, __________?”

There it was, the question that haunted you at the bottom of the wine bottles strewn around your room. You looked at her—your Olivia—and remembered the flutter you’d felt the first day you saw her on-base.

She’d winked at you, tongue caught between her teeth in a silent chuckle.

An angel, you’d thought, inquiring after her just as soon as you could. Standing here now with a chasm between, you realized just how much your opinion soured since then. You held her gaze, answering with the only truth you knew.

“I don’t know.“

You were halfway out the door when Sombra managed to speak. “Where are you going?”

“Does it matter?” you quipped, tired of the ache whenever you were around her. “Either way it’s away from you.”

With that, you were off to Jakarta. A war zone since the omnic uprising, 76 sent you, Tracer, and Roadhog to retrieve an encrypted archive lodged in one of the overrun Overwatch research stations.

He told you it’d be rough, but that was an understatement. It was a shitshow, the three of you spotted by omnics as soon as you touched down.

Roadhog’s shrapnel gun kept them at bay while you picked them off with a pulse rifle. Tracer eliminated whatever you couldn’t down, the three of you clearing a smoke-filled path to the lab.

Sure you were reckless, and no you didn’t need to bash that omnic’s head until you saw circuits, but there were no medals awarded for being merciful.

All was going well until you breached the archive door. Taking point, you used your decryption kit on the biometrics and walked in. Whether it was your team’s success up to this point or the tide of emotion from your fight with Sombra, you weren’t paying attention.

So, when your foot tripped an omnic trap and activated a bot shrouded in the darkness five feet away, you didn’t notice.

But you sure as hell did when it slammed its fist against your head. You yowled, aiming your gun at the attacker. The damn thing was fast, stomping its metal foot on your ribs before you could block.

CRACK!

Your vision went white with agony, smeared by blood from your head wound. You wailed, jaw strained by the scream of pain.

Roadhog hooked the bot, shooting it point-blank with his shotgun. It fell dead but you didn’t care—your ribs were broken and you were clawing for breath.

Tracer was immediately at your side, radioing for emergency evac clearance and a triage team. With another shuddering inhale came a white-hot stab of pain as you felt something pierce you.

The air fell out of you, failed gasps burning your chest as it collapsed under the puncture.

Your vision went black at the edges as you felt a big pair of hands scoop you up, fading further as you saw Tracer race ahead to reach the dropship. Ceding to the lack of oxygen and trickling blood loss, you welcomed the black oblivion.

In it, you saw a pair of violet eyes and her wry smile.

#sombra x reader #olivia colomar x reader #sombra imagines #olivia colomar imagines #sombra overwatch #sombra #mcsombra #overwatch imagines #ovw imagines #ow imagines #ow imagine #gender neutral #bodily harm tw #gore tw #overwatch #overwatch fics #cocaine tw #drug mention tw #drug tw

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castlehead · 7 years

Text

[CAPARISON'D]

There is no judgment slightly more than kind Now left that wld apply to this suggestive thing

Artlessly done as it is, but like the Earth is artless, Myself the experience of the Earth I have, or

Rather, am able to communicate; sometimes Nothing more than that, and in those cases feel

I am but shavings of selfhood, not so held fully in A Physical Body, yet not even able to accurately

Imitate reality outside of my a priori orb: I always Fail to bring it back: example is one time I was

Supposed to buy pot for this trip to this dude I used To know's house in Martha's Vineyard but thought

Cops / Were throwing shade where I was even tho Probably like one patrol car had driven past me

Or whatever, somewhere on Columbus on the stoop Of this brownstone out of many -it was an affluent

Neighborhood, a few blocks from my house- and Anyway paranoia got to me before the dealer, whose

Name -which was really probably more like a nickname- Was 'Talon' -yo, man.. it's been so long I'd thought of

That. I remember: I ghosted into the / Better, darker Shade of pregnant shade my room had, the one I used

To hate and love at the same time, and which my irritated Mother oft wld clean up for me, and which smelt of humiliation,

Like a group of people opening your door and immediately Stepping in dog vomit -I feel indifferent about it as I am older

Now, and it's been two years since I dropped The ball and fell out of a window- I mean / Chicken'd

Out of getting the Pot.- The monotony is I almost Do get it, every time, stuffing it furiously

Into a fannypack i always lose, bc I must lose, it / Then End up having to purchase more fannypacks: o ugly futility: it is

Like when my gf and I lost our wallets pretty Sequentially, like, within the space of a week, the way

We [both of us] lose our minds, certainly, every day: and the spirit of-- Reality? It goes and expires, the schmuck, from exposure in snowy

Caverns after my 9th goddamn Fannypack. / It hid so long Within the ear and don’t come out but

As such, by its knotty refusals, tells me how meaning sounds: Now what’s the story here: these heroes, makars, tune

Up me, leave me a lyric without an epyllion, an extended Sequence of spongy self-regard that grows in the heart of

These strange routes to find my wallet, yet much like Exposure to cold climates, mayest I find where

Nestles this goon what who stole my griefy solemness

Took my schedule for my weeping: I must meet My grief-quota, and pushing myself into my findings

I perform more experiments with beakers and shit But in vain seem to leave my sanity figuratively burnt

In the corner, ignore her either bc I find her precious Or bc I am neglectful, and usually ignorant

OF the long-time effect of loosening yr circadian Rhythm, which I guess would be apposite to The rhythm of when it was time to cry in public.

Finagling finesse, or robbing silence Of hours and hours / Of record.

Which one is worse? And are either Productive? And will Vaping give

Me early onset Dementia? I don't want to be A dull boy. I feel like buried beneath the concrete

Built of all great men Looms the rind of the thing,

The res' residue of Gd. That prays away inside all heroes

Like the precious goop inside a jelly Donut, a goop or honey / They seem

To acquire endlessly from caverns of perspective As sound the mechanical counting thuds of heart.

. . . . . . . . . .

Of all the spooky diameters these figures tell me To follow till the finish, / These podunk palings

Are the worst. Stretching up the road indeterminately To someplace / Out of sight and that

The poet is not even sure is actually there. The thing you have done, the court of bees in

My head tell me, While you do not mind a response To this yet you tiptoe / Over that, puts pressure on

The work of a gaggle / Of random bros that can clone Themselves / Sifting into creation like wild atomic dust.

I hear this propounding from the court of bees, Crones lift up the light to me like strange furniture,

Double over under its [wait] weight and drop that Massive coffin of light into the local undrained swamp.

In that fabulous mire will yr body sleep; you will always Harbor / In your chest that detailed yet subtle truth about you nobody

Knws about for certain, the thing you had no choice to Be, that blurs yr eyes, I speak of it you, saith the swarm.

. . . . . . . . . .

Honestly, write as speech of moment, yeh: Stuff about / The time passing, your thighmuscles

Clenching as you sit here realizing u clench Yr ass too, and then everything goes

Into this goofy rhythm of tearsdrops of moment And the same your toes, / Some anxiety hoping

To accelerate the past / From you and your palings. Surrounding you, as if to jump you for money-

-Flits the doom that could fit in like I didn't in Highschool; yes I became the cliché misfit as

The spirit’s lull in me, waiting for shitty misfit Carnage to end: I had to welcome it, it was

The life of me, it was either that or liberation From life-entire. Almost dozing off, the security

Guard in my brain hears a rustling in the bushes. / Try To deck out these pithy voices in something

Nice and acceptable, a'saith, said The Bees, and Said the Bees, End up shaking no crown, / Nor did free myself

Of anything for nothing at all but what I did, a crime that Is, of being th the hellish flower flowering out my Lungs, into your basic realm with every breath,

As the voice of the speaker Of the pome seems undecided on who

Is actually speaking, me or you, I'd say The only thing to do is duel it out, poet

And the carnage in my hands, coming In frank whorls of feeling that efface

My sense of balance with its own glee Of shaky grip, which I trust, and I boil

With the energy / Of fifteen Wellbutrin today. I am left here to my work that's called, "To be all

The way true with myself" Which comes From this very domepiece here, you all. That I-

-Can ever be an audience to myself, forever, Is enough of an accomplishment as a poet.

. . . . . . . . . .

The writing, tho, is another voice telling me about Myself, knocking on my skull for hollow spots

To take a sledgehammer to. It drifts, I think, / Thru many People, explaining whatever's holy around them: like ticks

Finding weeds by the broken gate That grow in an unnatural sort of way like

They got sprayed with chemicals Or something, though,

Perhaps the ground is bad, by the broken gate. Where I make my desolate way to work,

Have my desolate work done, or to say, this crime: I say my continuum: I despoil my ego, sure, but that is not the crime. I-

-Intend the risk, but have in me some coward Pushing back, repeatedly asking me if I'm

Crazy or something: suddenly I am fallen To the breaches of the World, so as to find

My Gd., the one that is the baroque one, And wriggle about as if I was a child on her

First plane ride: my ears hurting popping Cabin pressure and hellish something

Outing my innermost / What if's about The Baby; so it, like conjuring a thesis

Statement, shapes something of all That contradicting Clay into

Something my inner nobody can handle, frail as he is he Lays muted, finally attached to the beauty / Of the flower

. . . . . . . . . .

In my lungs. Go inside an Outside place, something says,

Permeating thru a fog of voices, Pieces, The bees they are long gone,

And I am not alone: so: notice Yr location, detail by detail,

The plain sense here is there: My symmetry is more than bothered air:

It is calls to me made by the telephone: I listen patiently to the dialtone as it weeps,

All things then taking on a character of Consciousness. I apply my consciousness

To others, like ravens do maybe. And then It is / Almost done, as is the inching doom:

I should b at this moment receiving Nourishment from feeding Tube, A coma patient suspended in Unbroken sleep, loved ones hoping He'll waken to his will again, Those I love / Doubly forsaken By me who thought he ws. forsaken

By the World.-- This perpetuity is a moody little fate I have in me, It is the location I notice, like you said, you, thru The fog. Happy? Now it won't leave. It is like A mouse i'the wainscot [Dickinson] / Telling me Myself, poet or perhaps the man, or the opening sun Once more to strange and futile dawns since since I do live, and live: so I am: and I have my own

Special clan of becketts picking Sundries from their asses

Soothing my jagged impressions of the World With familiar image, smoothing like a ironing Board; and, they keep policing the fictions on Which rest the reasoning behind my writing Behavior, why I did a song so very long.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Old father old artificer Stand me now and ever in good stead." Rough the linens on my deathbed are, and scratchy, It's wool I always hated the texture of when I was A kid: now of course, am a Loathing Regular of All On the internet, / Intent on memes to the last, he was, That's what it'll say on my epitaph. / In all my strength I say, then, or entreaty my messd up life disappear into

The dawn that I think has something wrong With it, it seems like it is kind of off, like People who are confined in boarding houses For the mentally ill. From my screaming Radio I hear someone selling Cadillacs. It Was not midnight. It was not raining. It was The fence that was my crime, outstretched Into stupid distances like a Wyoming of the Dirty cosmos, dirtier than silence cures the Exegete. I profit sentence by sentence, see,

And the Ars Poetica is a way to send a treatment Of the play to The Hollywood. Sentence is a line Robbing my habitat, until I am inside looking in, For the sky stops at the ground, and that is all. The mirror falls, and I must write out savage Things like this, that make up their mind About what they are, interest only

In keeping symmetrical. My soul needs exit From any light, even of lamp, it needs a Hypnotic Like Ambien to trip out on and slump over Dinner with my family later, still fucked up on It. Then something stops, not time, I do Not want it to be anything like time. Perhaps Verbosity: but I do comment

On epiphanies well enough to know the sound OF epiphany, without knowing what exactly The sudden clarity reveals. Did one look at What one saw, or did one see what

One looked at? -Thats me stealing from Hart Crane. Great artists steal because they see

How a style can be improved, so adopt it, make It better. Such sins amass; the Angels sing, O Theft!

Theft! And I go ahead plant a knife enough a knife for some Australian guy to say, "THATS A KNIFE." But not

Enough to charge anybody with anything, then somehow Twist it into a hate crime, duly distracting The Angels

From their liminal matters of blame upon me I am / Not thieving, I am making belated what Came before me, sort of like Mars in retrograde;

The stiff providence of fences and unlimited Bougie refernces atone for my ubiquitous use

OF all the best parts of everything, to make them Better than they were, written by those

Who wore a style like a 18th century noble Wears a musket: protectively. He honors most My steal, sorry, i mean style, who works under it-

-To destroy the teacher, saith Whitman, But that is love: all he didnt have was a hand On the button ol Kimmy J is foaming at the mouth

To push, destruction is abstraction, sure; Destruction here is used loosely for the sake of Serenity of speaking phrases gone away

Like they all went on a family vacation or something. Bleed, and you will summon presence enough To empty yourself for sleep [Faulkner] or make An infidel of abraham and Split the-

-Planets [Melville] and this cosmos is a trunk Of Blanche Dubois fine french furs, I bet you think this is

That, as on I go in a struggle to prove to everyone That I saw God & junk, on that day I got high On SSRIs and grasped for sense only to find it Under the control of something espionage And aloof, darting eyes not like a villain

But like a Paranoid Raven, then dies me as opposed To not: Reversal of some happy bumps in the day To make up for all the spooky ones in the night That hint at me like the first oncomings of ALS And I have not a feature film but hope the grass Is green as well on this margent of further sides Then abrupt belief, to dive in an' conquer or Repel sense back to Plato's Cave, which is a-

-Reference I shouldnt be using as I oh puritanical collector Of souls, well, I havent read Plato at all but i feel like if i did

Id be made another mans satellite, as Emerson, Somewhat in the vein of Blake, says in his introduction

To the essay Nature, I think that's the one. So: A hawk crosses the sky like there was some

A to B GPS followment but it is probably just migrating early. Take everyone back to the city. [Ashbery]

FURTHERANCE

#poem #poetry #pome #powtry #writing #latest dookie #new work

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ashswritingplace · 7 years

Text

Beast of the Cloth

Here’s a somewhat dark fictional piece I wrote. The prompt was to write about something filled with emotion without using any emotion words.

Beast of the Cloth

It had been a sunny and peaceful day in the small town of Devaduta. The townsfolk had participated in long walks around the mountain and picnics in the plains. Dogs barked happily and cows grazed lazily in their pastures, enjoying the warm rays from the sun. It was a day perfect for relaxing, not at all a day for the devil's work.

The local priest of Devaduta thought so. Late that night he had headed out of the chapel to get an early start on his daily rounds for the following day, a list of tasks that he believed a priest was expected to do. These were humble enough: seeking people in need, and helping them; volunteering at the town inn that doubled as a soup kitchen; feeding any stray cats or dogs about town. The young father was a simple man, a solitary man, and he enjoyed those moments before sunrise when the entire world was asleep. That was when he decided to start on his chores, leaving town and heading straight for the mountains, to the caves and catacombs that he called home.

He had gone later than usual on that day, motivated by the migraine drumming viciously at his skull and the hope that, just once, no one would need his guidance today. It must not have been earlier than two in the morning.

And now, at sunrise, he was finally heading back to the quaint town to officially start on his day. Except today was different. Today was Anastasia's birthday.

Anastasia was the daughter of the shoemaker in town. She was a brilliant girl, always eager to experience the services at the chapel every week, even if she might not have understood any of it. Today the entire town had planned a surprise party for the toddler and her family. The toymaker had made toys, the rancher had set aside the runt of his bitch's litter for the family; everyone was trying to fill the void in the girl's life. Just six weeks prior, the girl's mother had passed away of a terminal, hereditary illness.

Anastasia was turning two today. Already she knew the pain of losing her mother, and yet she was the cheeriest resident Devaduta had ever seen.

She would be turning two today. At least, she would have been, if her corpse hadn't been lying by the road from the mountain, mangled and destroyed, lifeless.

The priest flinched when he saw her, this poor child so horribly ruined. He had woken up from a catnap in the caves and had been expecting nothing more of this day than a birthday celebration for a child. Finding her dead like this had been a horribly vulgar surprise.

He knelt down beside this former child. Black blood stained her skin, tangled her hair, ruined her clothes. There was a large gash running the length of her torso, seemingly larger than her whole body. Chunks of flesh were missing, as if torn away by famished fangs. Through the blood, the priest could see specks of white. Whatever had attacked her had torn her straight to the bone. Her face was still, her eyes opened, blue, and her mouth formed an O, as if caught in a scream for eternity.

Around the girl was a lake of red, still fresh. The priest's boots would never be rid of such a heavy stain. He placed delicate fingers under the girl's lifeless shell and raised her to his chest. She smelled of sweat and mud and death. He could still feel her warmth.

He knew what he had to do. The priest walked to the lake just outside of Devaduta. It was overgrown with different mosses and weeds now, but legends told of its origins as a birthplace of a goddess.

The water was a foggy blue today. A branch of a nearby tree floated in the water. It was tangled in some grasses and rocks, but bobbed towards the priest as if reaching for something unattainable.

The priest knelt beside the calm lake. This, he knew, would make a proper burial ground. He tenderly laid her body near the edge and placed a hand over where her heart might still have been.

As he prepared the process of laying her to rest, the priest noticed something. The back of his hand was tainted red. Turning his hand over, he found that his palms were drenched in black. Droplets spilled over the edges, as if he were performing a baptism, not a funeral. There was far more blood on him than there should have been.

He got up and backed away. His cloth was a new shade of black, one mixed with a burning red. His legs, too, were soaked.

The priest picked himself up and hesitantly peered into the water. Even through the murkiness, he could see the face of a man with a bloodied face. His mouth, that straight line, and all the teeth hiding behind it, told him what he wished he did not know: This was his fault.

He fell to his knees, dizzy. After a minute, he got up again and regained his balance. Anastasia's body remained, waiting. He was ill fit for the task of sending her off into a better world, not after what he had done. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, of his dinner threatening to come back up, or perhaps a monster tearing at him from within. Even that would be an easier death than what Anastasia had been given.

As the shock of the realization faded, the priest shook his head. A long piece of hair, dampened with blood, stuck to his face. He knelt down again and replaced his hand on Anastasia's chest. He said a prayer for her, for her safe passage into another world; not for forgiveness.

When he finished his makeshift funeral, he took the girl into his arms once more. He gently lowered her into the water, watched as the blood started to wash away. He closed her eyes and pushed her away from him. Soon, her lungs would fill with water, would weigh her down to the bottom of the lake. Soon, she'd be buried in the watery grave of a goddess.

He watched her for what seemed like ages. She tangled herself in some vines, but mostly drifted peacefully away from the monster who had killed her.

Finally the priest was ready to go. He had come to terms with what he had unknowingly done, and he had started stipulating about what he could say to the town. As he got up, his tired brown eyes rested on an onlooker. Standing some thirty feet away, right outside of Devaduta's border, was Thomas, the shoemaker, Anastasia's father, with the knowledge of the world in his eyes. His wife taken just six months prior, and now, at the hands of the trusted town priest, his own daughter.

Suddenly, the priest knew his career in Devaduta was no more. Thomas would tell everyone of what he had just seen, if he did not try to kill him first, and the priest would never be welcome again.

His life, as he knew it, was over.

#short stories #prompted #writeblr

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secretshinigami · 7 years

Text

Contrapasso

Author: Veeraha

For: Yagami-raito-kun

Characters: Light Yagami, Ryuk, Sayu Yagami, Sachiko Yagami

Rating: Teen and up audiences, Canon typical violence, psychological breakdown, implied underage sex.

Prompt: Yagami siblings doing sibling shenanigans

Author notes: I took certain liberties in interpreting this prompt and I hope it’ll be to your liking. I saw that you requested something set in Noel verse in your other prompts. So I decided to write something set in TIHID verse. This is set roughly some time in between Light’s imprisonment and his subsequent sentencing. Sayu is about 16 in this piece, Light about 19. I hope you’ll enjoy it. :-) Also, this was unbeta-ed, and any mistakes made are all my own that I’ll hopefully rectify when I post it up later.

It smells like moss and something else.

Damp Earth? Rain?

So it’s raining then.

It was raining yesterday too.

‘It rains all the time. It must be July. Monsoon’ he mutters to no one in particular. He is alone.

Well alone except for the hideous man reclining on his bed.

He remembers the smell of rain. He’s always hated it.

What’s the English word for it again?

Petrichor.

‘That’s good Light.’

The hideous man says with a lopsided smile. He is not a man at all, but strangely Light is not scared.

‘But never start a story with the weather’

‘Why? What’s wrong with the weather?’

The thing on his bed swings its legs on the floor and sits upright on the bed, looming over him.

‘There are more than a thousand stories that begin with the weather. I know every single one of them. Shinigami have a lot of time to kill.’

‘So what?’

‘I am bored Light. Tell me something I have never heard before’, the thing shakes its head in frustration.

‘Entertain yourself then. Don’t ask me’, Light whispers back, flipping through the pages of the book that might not be there at all.

‘Gods of Death can curse you if they are displeased’ the thing taunts.

‘You just made that up Ryuk’

The thing has a name?

‘Fine then Light Yagami. If you won’t tell me a story, then let me tell you something I think you’ll like.’

‘I doubt it’

The hideous thing smiles at him.

‘It used to rain all the time, it was the middle of monsoon’ it starts.

Light wakes up to the familiar din of his name being called out several times from outside his bedroom door. But this morning the soft rapping of his mother’s knuckles on the plywood door reverberates against his skull.

‘Light dear, breakfast is ready’

Light presses the heel of his palm over his temples and the pressure relieves the throbbing pain for a bit. But not even the headache has dulled his senses enough to tell the voice outside isn’t really their mother’s.

‘Don’t you have cram school Sayu?’ he groans, covering his head with the pillow and hoping she’s already late and will leave him alone.

The voice is silent for a while before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

‘You got me huh? I thought I was getting pretty good at mimicking mom’s voice’

‘I have a headache’ Light whispers opening the door just a crack, just enough to show her his face. Light hopes that’ll convince her to not come inside.

It’s raining outside and the sky is overcast. She’s turned on all the lights on the landing and their fluorescent glare prickles tears in Light’s eyes.

‘You need to help me make breakfast’ she quips, arms crossed over her chest.

‘Why? Where’s mom?’

Sayu’s eyes narrow and she raises an eyebrow.

‘Mom and dad left. Did you forget? It’s grandpa’s death anniversary.’

‘Right. It must have slipped my mind.’

‘But they left in this weather? It’s still pouring.’ Light says, walking to the window.

Sayu hums in response. She is awfully chipper in the mornings. She’ll always be up on her feet and puttering around the house when it’s barely bright outside.

Light remembers waking up to her cries early in the morning when he had just started school.

Like clockwork.

It’s too quiet now, the dust has settled over everything.

‘You spend way too much time in your room nowadays. What are you hiding inside?’ she teases trying to peek inside over his shoulder.

Light closes the door behind him hiding it from her view.

‘I’m sorry’ he sighs, rubbing his forehead.

‘Cram school is taking a lot out of me’

‘But you didn’t go to cram school yesterday did you?’

‘What do you mean?’

Her face is completely unreadable, and in the glaring light it looks like it might be set in stone.

‘Your uniform was totally wet. The hem of your trousers was caked in mud. Your shoes were muddy too. You were near the underpass weren’t you? It gets muddy when it rains’

‘What are you trying to say Sayu?’

Her voice seems strange. It sounds harsher, like a man’s voice. Light swears he could hear a slight accent on it.

Or maybe it’s he is coming down with a fever.

‘I’m just messing with you!’ She jabs him with her elbow.

‘..although, you really sounded scared for a second there’ she adds as an afterthought.

‘Did you go somewhere you shouldn’t have gone?’ she winks.

Light rolls his eyes.

‘I’ll come downstairs and make breakfast after I’ve brushed my teeth’ he says.

She’s always so loud. He can hear her footsteps echoing through the quiet house as she skips downstairs.

‘Almost got caught there Light-o’ a voice rasps from right above his shoulder.

‘Where were you?’ Light asks, running the faucet and splashing water on his face.

The resounding crunch of rotting teeth sinking into fresh fruit answers his question.

‘I told you not to steal apples from the kitchen.’

‘Your mom wasn’t there. I might not get an opportunity like this in the future’ Ryuk replies.

‘Your sister’s really smart isn’t she? Do you think she’s guessed where we were yesterday’

‘Well I hope not’

‘You are not so bad yourself Light-o. I thought you’d run to help the girl but you didn’t even move.’

‘I can’t have the police lick my trails again now can I? Besides, he got what he deserved.’ Light says, sitting down on the bed.

His head has stopped throbbing for a bit, but the discomfort has increased tenfold. His neck aches when he tries to move his head. His hands are clammy.

‘I can’t wait to see what your sister will say when she finds out!’

‘Now now Light, don’t make that face. You know I enjoy these things. We shinigami don’t exactly have the concept of betrayal’

‘You don’t?’

The hideous creature on his bed smiles.

There’s something wrong with this, it’s not real is it?

It can’t be.

If he could only move, then it’ll all be over. Just a finger will do. But his body won’t listen to him.

‘Why is the miso soup so salty? Sayu? Why do the eggs taste like they’re made from the powdered ones you get at the supermarket?’ his voice keeps echoing.

It’s like he’s inside a locked room with concrete walls closing in on him.

Sayu doesn’t answer. She has homework to do.

She has her back turned to him, she’s humming a song while washing her plate at the sink.

‘Your mom won’t come and cook for you here. Just shut up and eat what you’re given’

It’s that accent again. That man’s voice.

He must be losing his mind.

‘It’s my ill fortune that I have to work here. The Gods must be angry with me’she says again in that strange voice.

What’s going on? Where’s Ryuk?

‘Light? Light? Are you okay?’

Her normal voice is back.

‘Are you going to throw up? What’s wrong?’

Everything that happens next is an ending blur of voices, flashes of conversation and the disquieting feeling of falling down an endless, dark abyss.

Light is sure he’s screamed out a few times, his throat feels raw.

His eyes feel sticky with dried tears and when he opens them he is almost certain he will find his mom sitting by his bedside feeding him iced water by the spoonfuls. She is always so kind. Always calls him her good boy.

Sayu is there too. She’s barely old enough to stand up on her two legs, she clutches Sachiko’s apron and asks her why her brother looks so red.

No, this isn’t real.

‘Is it a dream? A memory? Am I dead?’

‘Aren’t you a God?’ Ryuk sniggers from somewhere above him.

‘You’re like me Light. You’re not even human’

He is barely hidden behind the pillars of the underpass. It’s drizzling, everything looks hazy and washed out, every sound muffled by the constant thrum of the raindrops hitting the water. He’s aware of the cold seeping through his soaked socks but everything else is dull except for the steady pulse of something inside him pulling all his senses to attention.

He can barely see anything but the blurred afterimages of the girls legs thrashing as she was held down and her voice muffled by the man crouching beside her on the muddy ground.

Ryuk is deathly still behind him, curious of what he’ll do next.

‘Let’s go Ryuk’ he says.

There’s a small tug on his sleeve and Light lifts his eyes from the book he was poring over to see Sayu with her arms laden with mathematics textbooks.

‘Do we need all of these? Can’t we take just one?’ she pleads.

‘No we are taking all of them and you will finish all of the worksheets in them by the end of this month’

‘No way!’

Light smirks.

The bookstore is packed with students today. Light regrets choosing to come here right before exam season but Sayu really needs the extra help with maths. She follows him to the cash counter and drops the heavy textbooks on the counter with an angry huff.

‘Do you want anything else?’ Light asks, bringing out his wallet.

‘Like what? Ice cream? No thanks’ she pouts.

‘I meant books Sayu’ Light teases, rolling his eyes at her.

She doesn’t respond and makes a sullen face while the cashier packs their books in a bag.

Light remembers in flashes. He isn’t sure if they’re memories anymore, each one is new to him, but they all seem so real.

‘He hasn’t deviated from the pattern in two days’ Light whispers to Ryuk while covering his mouth with his handerkerchief. The train is usually not crowded at this of the day, but there are quite a few people in this car with him.

Details are important.

‘It starts the same way every day. He sleeps in till noon, then goes out to buy a couple of beers from the vending machine outside the seven-eleven in 1-chome. While he returns, he takes the shortcut through the shrine, he hovers outside for a while, like he is afraid to go inside.’

Ryuk laughs at that. Death Gods have a sense of humor.

‘He takes a detour while returning home. There’s a woman who lives alone in that apartment we passed by earlier today. She works till late and isn’t at home till the evening He knows how to get in and returns home after taking some trophies from her knickers drawer’

‘..and your sister doesn’t know all this about him’ Ryuk smirks.

‘She’s young Ryuk. It’s my job to protect her’

‘So what are we going to do?’

‘We’ll do what’s needful’ Light says, taking out the slip of paper from his pocket and writing down the name he’d found on the utility bills at the man’s house.

‘So, you have a boyfriend now. Is that why your grades are suffering’ Light tells her on the evening she asks him what it feels like to have a girlfriend.

‘It’s not like that!’ Sayu snaps back.

‘I just said it because I thought you have a girlfriend now. You never talk to me or mom anymore and you’re always in your room talking to someone.’

Light coughs.

‘You eavesdrop on me? Now that’s not very nice’

These moments they get together are so rare.

She’s right.

They hardly get a chance to talk like they used to.

Light remembers how things were when they were younger. She used to wait beside the door everyday for him to come back from school and tell her stories. He’d grow sick of it but she wouldn’t stop asking for them.

It’s good that she doesn’t know why he’s changed. She’s a simple girl. She likes those little cakes they sell at the bakery next to their cram school and she likes that drama they air at dinner time which stars that idol she likes.

‘The girls in my class all have boyfriends and they keep taunting me.’

‘So you lied to them?’ Light teases, taking a bite of the chicken they’d bought at the convenience store.

‘That’s not a very smart thing to do Sayu. Why can’t you just tell them you don’t want a boyfriend now’

She walks ahead of him, the dimming light of the evening throwing strange shadows around her.

‘I am not as smart as you are Light’

Light opens his eyes.

‘Hey’

Sayu keeps the book down and kneels beside the couch where Light lay. She puts the back of her palm on his damp forehead.

‘Your temperature has gone down a bit.’

‘What happened?’ Light asks, wincing slightly. His throat feels like it’s on fire.

‘You are running a fever and you threw up in the kitchen. I had to clean up’ she pouts.

‘I’m sorry’

‘It’s okay, you need to sleep. I called mom, she’ll be back soon’

Sayu sinks back to the floor and turns to the books she’s spread out in front of her.

‘Need any help?’ Light rasps.

‘No thank you. I don’t want to have you throw up on my notebooks’

His laughs dissolve into a sharp pain in his empty stomach.

He couldn’t complete breakfast, he remembers.

Light puts an arm over his eyes. He has sweated a damp patch through the back of his shirt, there’s a sheet underneath him that he can feel digging against his neck painfully.

‘Why is the sheet so scratchy?’

The answering voice isn’t Sayu’s.

‘We snagged them from the house of one of the guys you killed’

Light’s eyes snap open.

‘Sayu..’

Her face is a strange mixture of adoration and admiration.

‘Thank you for not telling mom and dad about him Light. I knew I could trust you.’

‘When did I go wrong?’ he asks and something in the void answers back.

When you picked up that notebook.

‘No. I was meant to create this new world. No one else had what it takes to do all this. Don’t you see the sacrifices I’ve made? I lied to my family’

But you failed.

‘How is this a failure? They are afraid to commit crimes. They are afraid of God. They are afraid of me’

They are afraid of that magic notebook you are hiding under your shirt. You will die and nobody will even remember who you were. They’ll never even light a candle in your name once you’re gone.

‘Give me a chance to explain! I am not wrong’

You didn’t give them a chance Light. So why should you get one.

You were such a good child.

‘Where did I go wrong?’

Sachiko hasn’t stopped crying.

How could she be so naive?

This isn’t her fault.

This can’t be happening. He must have noticed something was off about her.

She is his sister.

‘..her homeroom teacher called me and said her classmates had spotted her with an older boy near the karoke bar’ Sachiko’s words were punctuated by sobs.

The towel she’d thrown on the coffee table in rage lay unceremoniously over Sayu’s satchel, the name of the love hotel embossed on one of the corners.

Sayu sat sprawling on the floor, bent over, her back shaking with sobs.

‘How could you shame your father like this?’ Sachiko screams at her and Sayu crumples.

Light has never seen her mom do something as even raise her voice.

She clutches at her chest, her face contorted and unrecognizable in pain.

‘This is all my fault. I didn’t raise you right’

This isn’t real. He must be dreaming again.

The collar of Sayu’s uniform is soaked through with her tears. Light reaches out to help her sit up almost unconsciously, like his body is no longer under his control.

She clutches at her sleeve in that familiar way she always does when she needs something from him.

‘But you knew it Light. I told you. You didn’t say anything to me. I told you because I thought if I could keep your secret you could keep mine’ she says, in between hiccups.

‘What secret?’ Light asks, in a daze.

But Sachiko doesn’t let her answer.

‘Did you ruin yourself? Tell me the truth now’ she grabs Sayu’s wrist a little too hard and Sayu yelps in pain.

‘Mom please’

‘No Light, I deserve to know. Did you let him touch you? Tell me Sayu. Are you pregnant?’

Sachiko’s voice echoes in Light’s ears, his hands clammy and shaking over hers.

‘Please stop’ he pleads.

‘Tell me his name’, Sachiko yanks on Sayu’s arm again, pulling Light along with her.

‘What will your father say when everyone asks him. I wish you were never born. Look at your brother, he’d never shame us like this. He’d never do anything to hurt me and his father’ her voice is barely audible over her shaking.

‘You won’t right? ‘ Sachiko turns to him.

You’re my good boy. Mom and dad are so proud of you Light.

“You should be glad your father hasn’t committed suicide after knowing everything you’ve done” the phantom voice in his head is back.

Ryuk is laughing at the corner of the room.

Sayu is crying again.

He is cold, he did the right thing didn’t he?

That man was a monster. He hurt that girl. He had to be stopped.

“You could have called the cops Light. You could have helped that girl. But you walked away.”

You ruined Sayu’s life.

‘I protected her from him’ he says.

By killing him? You knew. But you didn’t stop her.

‘I knew?’

Details.

Think about the details, the details are important aren’t they?

He’d seen the man outside Sayu’s cram school once, and if he tries to remember he’ll recall the man smiling at her, and her smiling back. She told you she has fallen in love.

‘No she didn’t! I don’t remember’

You weren’t paying attention.

‘I had important things to do. I am a God.’

Gods don’t have time to think about their baby sister.

‘If you’ll keep my secret Light, I’ll keep yours’

She knows what you are.

‘So everything was a dream? That’s ridiculous. I was expecting at least a tearful epiphany’ Light says to the hideous thing, now floating upside down over his bed.

‘That was a terrible story’, he says.

‘I never said it was a story’ the hideous thing laughs at him in the way things from nightmares do.

Someone slaps his face hard enough to jerk him awake. Light wakes up with his heart threatening to burst out his rib cage, harsh hands force him down as the fever burns through his veins.

‘Let him go’ the voice commands over the intercom.

When his breathing softens into something he can control, Light sits up on his cot.

Three men in face masks, one of them in a doctor’s white coat.

‘Where am I?’

‘You’re home.’ L’s voice through the intercom makes him jump.

‘Drink some water’ the man in the doctor’s coat points to the pitcher of water set on the floor next to his cot. Light recognizes his voice as the one from his dream.

‘Where is Sayu?’ Light asks.

The men turn to leave.

‘You were running a fever for the last two days. We couldn’t have our prisoner die on us. The Tribunal wouldn’t like it’

‘Please, where is she?’

‘..We can’t have them think you killed yourself’

‘I need to see her once. Please L’ he is desperate for an answer, the tears won’t stop.

‘We can’t grant any requests to prisoners Light.’

‘Does she know about me?’

The intercom goes silent.

‘Not yet. She thinks you’re still assisting with the case.’ L says.

‘But she will, soon.’

The fever goes away completely in another day and takes with it the remains of any doubt there was in Light’s mind of his innocence.

He remains as scathing as ever when he opens his mouth to argue back when disturbed, but while he used to doze in an apathetic haze for most of the day before he got sick, nowadays he simply sits till with his legs crossed and eyes closed, like he is meditating.

‘You aren’t one to entertain me with stories Ryuzaki, what is with this civility?’

‘Prison life is wearing you for the worse’ L says over the intercom again. There’s no knowing if he even is in this building or if he’s sipping tea in front of his laptop several continents away.

‘…So this man you encountered in the Gulf, you say he had considerable influence in the area and yet refused to cooperate with you in order to save the civilians trapped in the burning building just because he thought they were a lower class?’

‘Religion and war makes one do strange things Light. I think you’ll agree’

Light smirks.

‘You are comparing me to a fanatic.’

‘That’s the kind of legacy some choose’

‘So tell me then Ryuzaki, what did you do to teach this bigot a lesson.’

‘Did you have Watari shoot him right here?’ Light points to his forehead marking the very place his father had once tried to sink a bullet in.

The handcuffs clink against each other when Light lets his hand fall.

‘You certainly have a flair for the dramatics, but no. I didn’t have to waste my time on him’

‘He died helpless and alone on the streets begging for someone to help him’

Light smirks.

‘Is that what you want for me, then?’

‘We’ll see about that. The tribunal should expedite the trial. This is the largest case of mass murder in history after all. They need to set an example’

‘Only a matter of time then’

The hideous thing laughs from its vantage point.

‘Now, Light. You’ll be the best story I’ve ever told.’

#fanfiction #submission #Light Yagami #TIHID #veeraha #yagamiraitokun #Sayu Yagami #pairing: gen #ratings: teen #Sachiko Yagami #Light's Birthday Extravaganza 2017

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