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soulmate-game · 3 years

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“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn��t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #brucinette

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

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eyes fixed upon a shiny ray

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #24 - illustrious ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,858 words ] ★ [ aetherweave au ]

witch / wizard academy au i’ve never written for. features mintdrop’s totomi and windupdragoon’s kirishimi. mentions heirsofdiscord’s moth’ir, ancientecho’s laurelis, peachteaoni’s lily and windupnamazu’s lunya.

illustrious- famous, well respected, and admired

asking the star student of the most prestigious magic academy in eorzea out to the end of year prom is as daunting as it sounds

“Gods, sulk all you want, but can you at least stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Alisaie sighs heavily, resisting the urge to yell only because she knew full well that her voice would echo through the halls at lightning speed, and she’s already been reprimanded for noise disruptions one too many times in the past now.

Where she sat atop the wooden desk, she glared down at her twin, who has been walking laps around the back of the classroom with his hands plastered upon his chin for the past 10 minutes now. Alisaie had hoped to spend her free period practicing Blitz Ball, but it would seem that her brother and practically the rest of the academy was far more hung up about the upcoming end of year promenade dance, and she’s close to getting sick of all the endless chatter about who everyone was going to ask out as their dance partner.

The young witch in training had about just the same amount of interest in her brother’s love life as she did history of the arcane arts, which is to say none at all. But family is family... and if Alphinaud failed in his endeavor to ask out the girl he’s had his eyes set on for the past year now, she will never hear the end of his relentless mutters.

“Just ask her directly. It’s not that hard is it?” Thancred thinks to chime in from two desks away, fiddling with his jet black wand.

And though Alisaie wholeheartedly agrees with Thancred’s assessment, she cannot bring herself to pass up the opportunity to call him out either.

“Hah, like you’re one to talk. How long again did it take for you to ask out Moth’ir? And you’ve known for what, almost your entire life now?”

Light banter and friendly, healthy amounts of spite is normal among their group, and Thancred seems to be unaffected by Alisaie’s words as he throws his hand up and shrugs with an unapologetic smile.

Alphinaud doesn’t stop pacing - not until he feels a light zap of lightning strike his bare hand and jolt him out of his focus, his head turned up to look at the wide chesire grin of the transfer student who twirled his leopard patterned wand between his index and middle finger playfully. Internally, Alisaie thanks the high heavens.

“Hien!” Alphinaud’s voice is a mixture of accusatory, confused and startled, and the raven haired student could only let out a hearty laugh before leaning himself back against the wall.

“Relax! A little jolt won’t kill you.” Hien begins waving his wand recklessly in the air, no doubt asking for reprimand if a teacher were present. “Anyways.. Who’s the lucky girl who’s caught the eye of our Alphinaud here? Must be someone quite special for him to be so nervous.”

Everyone’s eyes collectively widen, now fixed upon Hien as Thancred opts to answer on behalf of his friend.

“You don’t know? It’s Illya. It’s always been Illya.”

“Mm... Sorry, the name doesn’t ring any bells.”

The silence lingers a little longer now, as the other three exchange wide eyed glances of shock between them.

“Y-you.. you don’t know Illya?” Alphinaud sounds utterly taken aback, and Alisaie almost speaks up to remind him that not everyone would be as enamored with the star student of Aetherweave as he is.

“The little witch of a thousand miracles? Lady of the endless garden? The viola nebula? The star blossom? The tamer of the beasts? The one who pulls down the stars and wears them under her hat?” As he listed off the top of his head some of the most famous titles that had belonged to the object of his infatuations, Hien could only hum softly in thought as a response.

“I’ve heard of a few of those titles... I didn’t think they were all referring to the same person, however. Just how many names does she go by?”

Had it been anybody else, Alisaie would have probably accuse them for living under a rock - because anyone who has studied at Aetherweave academy would certainly not go long without hearing of Illya’s name. She didn’t know a single person in the academy who has not heard of at least one of the girl’s heroic exploits with her friends.

Hien however was a transfer student, one who came from a sister academy back in the Far East only a few months ago, and despite having settled into his new surroundings comfortably, is still not entirely aware of all the gossip and rumors that run rampant in the magical halls of Aetherweave.

“More like.. what name doesn’t she go by.” Alisaie’s shoulder rises and falls. “Have you heard of what happened just three months ago? About the Guardian Tree at Everschade?”

“That rings a bell. It was in the process of dying but somehow magically got rejuvenated and started to bloom purple flowers, didn’t it?”

“That was her doing.”

Now, Hien’s eyes are wide in surprise, letting out an elongated whistle as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“By the kami...”

“She was also one of the few students in the academy to have not only met but also tamed a wild wyrm. They say her new dragon friend, Midgardsormr is sitting right in her backyard.” Alphinaud adds, “Her friends and her were also the ones who were at the front of the charge in the winter of last year, defending the school when there was a surge of Sineaters coming from Lakeland.” His hand rises up to hold his chin. “Not to mention, she’s a top student. She’s consistently been in the top 5 of our year when it comes to grades. And her command over magic is praised even by grandfather himself.”

Praise coming from Archon Louisoix himself? That certainly is something worth prestige and recognition. Rightfully impressed now, Hien’s lips turn upwards into smirk as he turns to look back at the boy.

“Well, I can see why you’d like her. What’s the problem then, friend? Is she not easy to get along with?”

At Hien’s suggestion, Alphinaud quickly shakes his head.

“Oh, no, she’s not like that. She’s very approachable. Perhaps a bit...shy, and not very good at speaking to strangers at all, but she’s a wonderful person. Perhaps... a bit too nice, is all.”

With his response, Alphianud drops his head with a heavy sigh and casts his glance downwards onto the floor in exasperation, and it prompts Hien to hold back any further questions. He merely turns to look at Alisaie and Thancred, who can only frown and shrug respectively in silence.

It wasn’t that Alphinaud hasn’t tried to ask the girl out - he’s been trying to for months now, well before even the details of the promenade dance had been released and he saw it as a good opportunity to finally ask the girl out to be his dance partner.

He’s tried many times, and failed spectacularly an equal amount.

Perhaps as a result of her kindness, Illya has found herself surrounded by a group of other equally individualistic and unique friends who, in one way or another, has interrupted Alphinaud’s attempts to ask her out at least once.

He remembers Illya’s best friend, Laurelis, a joyful miqo’te girl who was well aware of his affections for her friend and is even the most enthused out of all of Illya’s circle about helping them get together... but has also unknowingly sabotaged his attempt to ask the girl out to movie date when she’d pulled Illya to town right after school for an impromptu shopping trip.

Lunya, a sharp-tongued girl who had been in a different class from Illya had been ecstatic to find that her friend, who she would not normally get much time to study with, had opted to take the same astrology and fortune telling electives as her. And for the three months that they had been together, she would always swiftly pull Illya away from him with a protective glare.

And Lily, who studied in the year above them and was close and dating Illya’s pseudo big-brother figure, had busied Illya with the task of tutoring her after class on how to become better at healing magicks, an endeavor that took up almost all of Illya’s spare time and he could not in good conscious ask her to abandon her close friend’s heartfelt request - especially after learning that her wish to become better at healing stemmed from an accident that Kaye had almost sustained a fatal wound for during last year’s battle against the Sineaters.

He can no longer keep track of the number of times he’d failed in his attempts, let alone take into account his own confidence beginning to waver... but the two golden foil tickets and a pressed lily in his pocket weighs heavy, and as Tataru and Krile had so eloquently egged him on and warned him, he might not get another chance ever again if he missed this one.

“OI! HIEN!” A loud, boisterous voice calls out, and a loud thud and an ‘oof’ from Hien sounds out, followed by a breathless chuckle as he shakes the woman who had tackled him against the wall off himself.

“Kiri, your greetings are enthusiastic as ever, but we’re in the middle of something now.”

“Huh?” Mismatched eyes finally turn to look at the twins and Thancred, and she lets out a nonchalant shrug. “Oh. Uh, sorry I guess. I can leave ya guys to it then.”

“No, it’s quite alright, Kirishimi.” Alphinaud smiles warmly at his senior, the tone of his voice amiable as ever. “We weren’t talking about anything important.”

“I didn’t know you considered you not being able to ask Illya out to prom as being unimportant.” His twin sister snickers, and Alphinaud bites back an aggrieved huff.

“Alisaie-”

“Illya?” Kirishimi’s expression lights up, ears perking as she places her hands upon her hips and gestures towards the direction of the front entrance of the school. “Speakin’ of her, I think she’s leavin’ to go on a date with someone. I saw them going down the stairs after I passed by her classroom and they were talking about uh... ‘desserts’ or something.”

“W-What? A date?” There’s panic evident in her voice, normally already fair complexion on the elezen boy rapidly paling now as he takes a step towards the taller woman. “Is...Isn’t it still in the middle of the school period?? They can’t possibly-”

“Town’s only a few minutes walk away though?” Kiri retorts with a shrug, “They’ll have plenty of time before the next module an hour later... and maybe they’ll even have time enough to work in a kiss or somethin’-”

“I-I... I have to-” Before even hearing the rest of Kirishimi’s sentence, Alphinaud finds himself bolting out of the classroom door and down the hallway towards winding flights of stairs and talking paintings, who chime out in surprise and ask a collective series of ‘where are you going?’ which goes unanswered.

Thancred turns to look at Kiri, a suspicious glint in his eye as he quirks an eyebrow out.

“She’s not really going on a date, is she?”

Kiri merely shrugs, a mischievious smirk plastered on her face as Hien wraps a proud arm around her shoulder, an equally triumphant grin upon his face.

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

By the time Alphinaud’s found himself past a few feet in front of the building, and sees a familiar curtain of swaying white hair and a tall witch hat crowned upon it walking towards the fountain in the middle of the academy square and towards the front gates of Aetherweave, he’s already rapidly short of breath and found his legs aching, his lungs gasping and burning desperately for air.

But he doesn’t allow himself to stop- cannot allow himself to stop as he swallows back the lump in his throat and continues sprinting forwards, his voice calling out to her loudly from across the pathway.

“Illya! Illya wait!”

He thanks the twelve when he sees the lalafellin girl stop in her tracks and turn around with a bewildered expression, her companion beside her equally startled and stopping next to her as well - though he pays no mind to them... cannot bring himself to exert enough energy to focus on anyone other than Illya.

It isn’t until he gets closer to the pair, sweat trickling down his brow, his chest heaving as he pants for air heavily and his hands gripping onto his knees as he lurches forward does he finally recognize just who the mysterious student that Illya has decided to go on a ‘date’ with.

“W-wait.... wait a minute..” Alphinaud mutters in between huffs and sharp inhales, navy blue eyes staring down at a lalafellin with familiar straight cut bangs and ruby red eyes. “M-m.... Mint?!”

Mint.... is Illya’s date? The genki self-proclaimed witch idol peppermint?? Who also happens to be dating his friend Estinien??? She’s who Kirishimi tricked him into thinking was Illya’s date?!

“Whaddya want Alphinaud??” Peppermint lets out a huff and a pout, seemingly unconcerned at his haggard state as she crosses her arms over her chests. “Illya promised to get cream puffs with me during our break time. If you wanna have some, you’ll have to get in line!”

“W-what...? That’s not...”

Twelve forfend... He’s been deceived utterly and completely... He’d like to think he would be a bit more perceptive and intuitive enough to know when he’s being lied to or played but... it would seem like all sense of rationality of his flies out the window when it comes to Illya.

The girl in question merely gazes up at him with concern swirling in her lustrous violet eyes as she tightens her hold on the book she had been holding close to her chest.

“A-are you okay, Alphinaud?”

The worry in Illya’s voice urges Alphinaud to quickly swallow and give her a nod, a reassuring smile gracing his features despite his drained complexion.

“I’m... I’m quite alright. Thank you, Illya.”

His heart skips a beat when his smile is mirrored by her, and the radiance of her presence is almost enough to leave him dumb and speechless until she speaks up once more to question him.

“Did you need something from me? You seemed like you were in a hurry-”

Oh seven hells... how is he going to explain his way out of this now? He could make perfectly reasonable and well timed excuses for his other failed attempts... and he could just as easily lie to her and say that it was nothing now...

But he knows not only would that arouse suspicion, especially with someone as perceptive to people’s lies and intentions as Illya was... but it’d perhaps put her on edge around him in the future.

And though he’d have liked to invite Illya to prom in private and free of an audience member consisting of someone from her circle of friends, he’s already made a right fool of himself and caused a scene between them.... So to hide away or run from the situation would be...

With a defeated sigh, Alphinaud fishes out one of the tickets from his uniform pocket and holds it out to the girl with trembling fingers, watching in anticipation as her own starspangled eyes widen in shock.

“I-I.... I just wanted to ask... If you would perhaps like to go to prom with me?”

The normally talkative Mint is now completely silent, holding back impish cheers and laughter as she merely steps back to pump her fist in the air, leaving Illya on her lonesome as a heat quickly spreads across the girl’s fair cheeks and reddens the bridge of her nose.

It doesn’t take much thought at all for Illya to raise a hand up to take the ticket from him, gazing down thoughtfully at the reflective golden foil and the silver letterings etched into the shimmering surface until she finally remembers to nod in answer.

“Um... Y-yes... I would love to-”

---------

Illya is grateful that nobody else other than Mint had been around to bear witness to what happened, or she’d be certain that the whole school would be privvy to the gossip before sundown.

Mint’s teasing and chattering is enough on it’s own to deal with, as the girl cheerily munches into her cream puff and speaks in a hushed tone to the violet eyed girl on the other side of the table.

“I’m so glad for you, Illya! Now you don’t have to worry at all!”

“Y-yeah... I-I suppose so..” The heat from Illya’s cheeks hasn’t dissipated, and she stares into the reflection of the warm milk tea in her hands. “B-but.. what am I supposed to do with the love letter? I’ve been working on it for weeks and now-”

Mint pauses for a moment, cheeks puffed up and full of food as she continues to chew and darts her eyes up to the white ceiling in thought.

“Hm... Well you can still give it to him! Maybe during the prom or something? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it very much!”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #peppermint #kirishimi #fanfic #mine #aetherweave academy au #OH LOOK A FILL FOR AN AU I'VE BARELY TALKED ABOUT AGAIN #we've come so far #the title is lyrics from shiny ray by yurika!#which is little witch academia's OP

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blahkugo · 4 years

Note

Congrats for the 1k!! Wdyt ab hawks in an underground scenario?

thanks anon baby!! i love writing for hawks in general and this au was soooooo much fun to explore!! ♡ i honestly went a little crazy with it & added too much rumi in there lmao

-ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「TAKAMI KEIGO / HAWKS」

— underground! au (feat. rumi)

— warnings: 18+, smut, drugs / alcohol mention, kind of scumbag hawks

⤏ keigo’s very devious, in the sense that he can be both the star of everyone’s show and a sneaky bastard. he’s a double agent in the truest definition of the word, and it’s no different in an underground au

⤏ ‘heaven’ is the place to get into; no, no, not god’s pearly white gates, but rather the giant underground nightclub teeming with bar hoppers and thrill seekers on a saturday night.

⤏ the highly illegal establishment is run by none other than keigo takami himself, the eccentric club owner that people only know by name

⤏ no one’s ever actually seen keigo at his own club, nobody even knows what he looks like

⤏ so, rumors fly amongst the regular patrons; some say he’s a cartel boss, others a crooked cop

⤏ a choice few believe that he’s the devil himself. and in his jealousy of god’s perfect eden, he crafted his own slice of heaven, where restraint and inhibition are words with absolutely no meaning

⤏ the reality isn’t far off, if we’re being honest

⤏ ‘heaven’ is keigo’s personal playground, a place where he can be anybody he wants to

⤏ typically, that anybody is pulling pretty little whores into the giant vip room, and pumping them chock full of his favorite pills: angel dust

⤏ when his own high kicks in, the fun begins. and at that point, even keigo thinks he may be the devil incarnate

“Tsk, tsk,” Keigo wags a slender finger in front of your face, snatching the pretty little capsule from your hand.

Quick, pounding percussion still pulses at your ears, though the VIP room is much quieter than the club floor— cooler as well. Without the mass of compressed, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding, you feel a bit over exposed in your two piece set. For a second, you have the urge to cover your midriff, but the angel in front of you sweeps your attention yet again.

“How do good girls ask for pills?” He’s teasing you, has been since the moment he approached you spouting some nonsense about being the club owner. While you were initially adamant in your disbelief, only agreeing to follow him for his tempting promise of ‘proper drugs,’ the extravagance of the VIP room sways your opinion now.

Also, the man swims in luxury, seems to be bathed in an ethereal glow that screams money from the tips of his perfectly tousled hair down to the Givenchy trainers on his feet. The richest men always dress in subtleties; you just have to know where to look.

Your assumptions were confirmed when he ordered top shelf booze. They were absolutely set in stone when Rumi, the Playboy Bunny turned supermodel, settled into the booth next to him and plopped a kiss on his cheek.

“The sick bastard will really only give it to you if you say pretty please,” the gorgeous woman chuckles, looking every bit as intimidating as she does on the runways. “Like this,” she clasps her hands together— fingernails sporting a fierce, red manicure— and turns towards the smug blonde. “Please Keigo, a pill.”

It’s unclear whether her tone is sincere, sickly sweet words dripping with mockery and faux praise. Either way, you refuse to be the butt of their jokes. Begging for drugs? Over your dead body.

Keigo must feel your hesitation, must sense the subtle shift in your body language, because his eyebrows narrow for a fraction of a second before quickly regaining their place far atop his forehead— practiced nonchalance, seemingly perfected over years.

He hands the pill to Rumi, and then another, pushing his slender fingers into hers without breaking your mutual gaze.

“Oops,” he feigns apology, “looks like I gave two pills to Rumi.” He slants a quick look at the platinum blonde. “You can just take one from her, sweetheart.”

When you break your glare to peek at the beautiful woman next to him, she’s giggling. The sound is practically silent, a twinkly little thing that barely reaches your ears and doesn’t rumble through her entirety like laughter truly should.

“Silly me,” she smirks, piercing eyes scanning over you now, “I didn’t realize.” Though you’re sure the night can’t get any stranger, she lets her tongue loll from between supple lips, painted bright red to match her nails. Low and behold, there are two pills, both dangling enticingly on her curved tongue.

“Aw,” Keigo coos, pout brimming with ridicule. Though you attempt to speak up, entirely fed up with this humiliating charade, he doesn’t miss a beat. “She can still have one though, can’t she Rumi?”

She simply nods, swaying her tongue once more before curling it back into her mouth. He can’t mean— no, he wouldn’t. But the pair simply stares at you, famishment gleaming in their eyes like a pair of ravenous wolves.

He wants you to kiss her.

Every one of your nerves stands on end, willing you with a passion to reject his slimy offer. You’re not a Barbie doll for him to play with, to dress and undress and buy off with a bright pink mansion to boot.

But then again, the pros do vastly outweigh the cons. When’s the next time you’re going to have the chance to kiss a supermodel? And with someone as beautiful as Keigo watching? You take a deep breath, standing up and bracing your arms against the table to lean over.

And then, you are kissing her.

Rumi’s lips taste like whiskey sour and a spice that you can’t quite place. She’s quick to take control, cupping your jaw with slender fingers and nipping at your lip. There’s a slight twinge of pain before each swipe of her tongue across your lip, and it’s a miracle that she keeps the pills nestled under her tongue; she kisses you with such passion, such dizzying ferocity, that you feel your head spin. It’s definitely not the alcohol.

When her lips bite again, more aggressive this time, you part your own in a low, teasing groan. She swings a knee over the table— pushes closer, pulls you further into her. You’re losing your breath, unable to keep up, but she simply continues her onslaught, as though you’ve stolen her last breath and she’s aching to get it back.

Only when her tongue slinks across the back of your teeth and makes its home between them, does she offer up the pill from under the wet muscle.

With a parting smile against your mouth, she pulls away.

“Hope you like that pill as much as you did the kiss,” she speaks, lips, puffy but still perfectly painted, inches from your own. She stays put, watching the strand of drool still connecting the two of you.

You wish you could say something, anything, to the goddess of a woman, but you’re left in a haze. If it isn’t for the subtle tap against your throat, you’d forget to swallow the pill you worked so diligently for. As she finally recedes, you make a mental note for later: world-renowned supermodel Rumi smells like cinnamon.

“Bunny got your tongue?” Keigo chuckles, now standing next to your side of the booth, and slithering a lithe hand across your lower back. You’d almost forgotten the smug bastard was there, but one glance his way and you remember where you are: a public space.

Sure, the VIP lounge is practically empty, save for a few stragglers here and there, but those people are presumably A-listers. And they just watched you make out with a woman all for drugs and the entertainment of a very wealthy man.

Still, it probably isn’t the worst image they’ve ever seen.

Rumi gives you another once over, baring sharp canines that seem to sparkle beneath the low, purple lights. Even after your intimate moment, she somehow seems more intimidating— or perhaps, more ravenous. She makes some comment to Keigo about giving you her number, throws a wink your way, and ends the encounter with another quick peck on his cheek.

Then, with hips swaying seductively to the beat, she makes her descent down the stairs to join the thrall of bodies as her high hits, leaving you and the blonde alone. Chancing a glance his way, you decide that’s not a terrible thing.

That same pompous smirk is plastered across his face, that same insatiable look in his eyes. His blonde locks remain in a state of perfect dishevelment, and when he runs a hand through it, his jewelry— rings upon rings and a watch that probably costs more than your rent— catches the light, shimmering wildly.

“We’re going to peak soon.”

It’s all he says, before leading you towards the stairs and down, down, down— straight into Heaven.

Wisps of baby pink, streams of bright blue— cotton candy fills the air and washes the man in front of you in a delectable light. It begs you to take a bite, to do more than press your warm, wanton body against him.

“How do you feel?” Keigo’s teeth graze the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the side of your face. With his arms wrapped around your waist, he envelops you fully, allowing you to grind and move as you please. The heat radiating off your bodies could rival the sun.

“Like I’m flying,” you throw your hands into the air; he grazes them with his own. Every touch sends a cacophony of sparks across your flesh, every murmur of praise a chilling tingle down your spine. And when he strains his hips against yours, it heats you further, all throughout your core. You need him— right here, right now, bathed in candied pinks and sugar-filled blues.

As though he can hear your thoughts, or perhaps you’ve said them aloud, his slender fingers slither further down your body. Down, down, down— dashing under your tight skirt to rub across your soaked slit. When you cry out, a symphony of desire, he simply presses harder, rubs faster.

Just as you’re about to see stars, to grab at the spun sugar surrounding you and take an overwhelming chomp, he removes his magic fingers. You’re aware you’re crying out, feel as though the entire world’s been ripped away from you, but he simply shushes you with a slick digit against your lips.

“Let’s take this back upstairs, yeah?” The devil pokes at your side.

You’re already being whisked away, deeper into paradise.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

#blah blah blah 1k #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bird boi #keigo takami #1k.event

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luna-eclipse2000 · 3 years

Text

Shingeki no Danganronpa

Chapter 1, part 1

So I started this story last year when the Danganronpa craze happened but I still wanna post it because I think it’s a pretty alright take on the game. I put a hashtag of the name of this series so the parts are easy to find. (ie. Shingeki no Danganronpa Chapter 1)

——————————————————————————

Hope’s Peak High. A school so large that it towers over all the other buildings in this bustling urban area. Some people say that the school is like it’s at the centre of the world, which I agree to. Except, it is at the centre of the entire world. Everyone knows about this school and how prestigious it is. Anybody who’s anybody dreams of getting that fateful acceptance letter from administration. They say that if you come here and manage to graduate, you’ll be set for life. I’m not the most interesting person in the world, so it was a complete shock when I got a letter saying that they want me to attend. The only award I’ve ever won was a runner’s up ribbon in a fishing tourney. My letter told me that I’m the ‘Ultimate Lucky Student’, which sounds like complete horse shit in my opinion.

I get good grades, sure, but nothing as skyrocketing as some of the people who get in for a purpose. I still accepted the opportunity because I’m not an idiot. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and there’s no way that I’ll give it up because I feel like I don’t belong there... which I definitely feel like. I would’ve just assumed that they got the wrong person but they don’t send acceptance letters to the wrong house, it hasn’t happened in the fifty years the school’s been running for, and I’m pretty sure that the name (f/n) (l/n) isn’t common in this area. So here I now stand, in front of the massive school. It’s even more impressive and intimidating in person. Before I arrived, I did a small Google search on who was going to be in my class and it ranges from more mundane things like the Ultimate Cleaner to the Ultimate Strategist. But, despite my uncertainty of my presence, I put on a brave face and walk through the entrance gates... only to start feeling dizzy and nauseous, like I’m in one of those crazy amusement park rides where you spin in a circle very quickly and the floor drops. No sooner do I start feeling this way, do I black out.

~~~~~

“The hell just happened?” I ask myself as I open my eyes and take a look at my surroundings. I seem to be in a classroom because of all the desks and the blackboard up front, but there’s no windows. Just big metal plates with even bigger bolts and screws holding them in place. “Huh. Weird. Maybe that just shows some new part of the school they’re building and they don’t want any one to see it until it’s finished?” I wonder as I stand up from the desk. I look around but don’t see any bags, even mine is gone. When I turned back to my desk, I notice a slightly folded piece of paper on it, so I pick it up out of curiosity.

Hey there, new kid! The next semester is about to start. Starting today, this school will be your entire world.

“Knew it was the centre of the world.” I think to myself and then place the card down. It didn’t look very professional as it was written in black and red pencil crayon, but it’s a high school so I doubt there are any kids. And if there were, I would have to report them to cops for child labour. I look up at the clock and see that’s it’s eight. “How long was I out for? An hour probably, maybe less. Wait, doesn’t this school start at eight? Where’s all the students? And the teachers? Maybe I read the time wrong on the letter.”

I then go out of the classroom and notice the weird magenta and purple look of the halls and cringe at the contrast. “Ok, what the hell is with this hallway? And, again, where are all the people? I know that eight am isn’t very early, at least not so early that it’s a ghost town. Oh, shit, maybe there’s an assembly!”

I begin to race down the hall and pass by a red door that feels too eerily out of place but I shake the feeling off and head towards the main hall. Once I arrive, I see that everyone else is already there. “Hey, look! Someone else is here!” Someone says. “So that makes fifteen of us.” Someone else points out. “So, you’re all new as well?” I ask them. “No, we’re here for shits and giggles.” A boy with black hair and sharp steel grey eyes rudely answers. I laugh awkwardly. “Who shoved a stick up your ass?”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Anyways, I’m (f/n) (l/n).” I introduce myself. “Sorry I’m late. When I entered the school I just blacked out or some shit. It was really weird.”

“You too?” A short blonde girl asks. “That’s what happened to the rest of us! At first, I thought it was just nerves. But then everyone started to realize that we all blacked out.”

“Yes. This is rather a strange situation.” A boy with blond hair that’s tied back a bit and glasses says. “I’ve never heard of fifteen people blacking out at different times at the same place on the same day.”

“We were drugged!” Someone speaks up. Everyone goes quiet as we turn our attention to the person who spoke. She’s rather tall and has brown hair, and wears glasses. “Oh, come on! I was just joking to lighten the mood! And ease the tension that’s growing because it’s making me a biiiit uncomfortable.”

“So then how about we just introduce ourselves then?” A black haired boy with freckles suggests. “That way we can ease the tension without freaking everyone out.”

I immediately feel calmer after he speaks. He’s got some kind of... energy or something around him. The first person I go up to is the short blonde girl with blue eyes. “Oh, hello! I’m Krista Lenz.”

Krista Lenz. She’s the Ultimate Volunteer. She volunteers all of her free time to shelters, reading to kids, helping the city, going in to retirement/nursing homes, helping out in hospitals and keeping veterans company. She’s even gone abroad to help build homes. She’s known online as Angel, and I can totally see why. Not just because of her noble acts, but because she looks so pure and innocent. Like a little angel. “Well, it’s actually Historia Reiss but that’s hard for kids and seniors to pronounce and spell so I just came up with the fake name.” Krista explains. “No way, seriously?” I ask her. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re popular with a name that isn’t technically yours?”

She giggles cutely. “Singers do it all the time, don’t they? Katy Perry’s last name is actually Hudson but she didn’t want to get confused for the actress, Kate Hudson.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” I say awkwardly and then move onto the next person.

I decide to go up to the the boy who suggested introductions. “Hi! I’m Marco Bodt. It’s nice to meet you!”

Ah, yes. Marco Bodt, the Ultimate Peacekeeper. He tries to help different countries bring peace to them so no more wars break out. He’s also proposed that they follow England in having a special force of officers who carry guns while the majority only carry nightsticks. He’s also won a Nobel peace prize. “So, what are you here for?” Marco asks me. “Oh, nothing special. I’m not that important.” I say. “Nonsense! You were accepted, right?” Marco says. “I got chosen by chance to be the lucky student.” I tell him. “See?” Marco says. “Out of everyone in the world that they put into chance, you got chosen! Not Diana across town. And the letter even said you were the Ultimate Lucky Student as a result, that accounts for something, right?”

I smile thankfully and go to say something else but hear shouting instead. “What the fuck did you call me, you suicidal bastard?!”

“I called you a horse face, horse face!” The other person responds just as angrily. “Oh, geez.” Marco says. “Sorry, I’m gonna go break them up so there isn’t a murder or anything.”

Marco then heads off to go calm the two boys down. I roll my eyes. “Teenage boys. Why are they like this?”

I head off to another boy, but he doesn’t have any hair. Or at least very little, short, stubby hairs. “Hi, I’m Connie Springer!”

Connie Springer is the Ultimate Prankster. He’s pulled pranks on a various number of people, none of which were very tame. He’s pranked politicians and celebrities. He’s helped talk show hosts prank their audiences and even pranked a military general. I honestly don’t know how he got away with his life for that one, especially since I heard how strict and unforgiving the general is. “It’s nice to meet you, Connie.” I say. “How’d you even escape General Shadis after putting Veet in his shampoo and then switching his toothpaste for actual sewerage?”

“Not easily, I’ll tell you that.” Connie responds with a laugh.

I then move onto the next person. A girl with black hair and grey eyes standing beside a boy with brown hair and beautiful turquoise eyes that I’m honestly jealous of. “Hi. I’m Eren Jaeger and this is Mikasa Ackerman.”

Eren Jaeger. The Ultimate Freedom Fighter. He leads various protests to allow people more rights and be more free, and he also runs different projects that aid in getting people free from their situation. Mikasa Ackerman is his adopted sister and is basically known as his knight in shining armour because of her saving Eren from all the aggressive people he’s encountered. She’s the Ultimate Protector. She protects students at school from bullies, and protects her brother, Eren, from everything. She’s been known to intimated police and SWAT teams, who are already trying to get her to join their force. Marco’s even been seen with them from time to time when he knows it could get very ugly. “What you’ve been doing is quite admirable, Eren.” I compliment him. “It’s great of you to stand up for complete strangers.”

He bashfully puts a hand on the back of his neck with a light blush and smile. “Thanks. Everyone deserves to have freedom so I just stand up for those who’s voices are drowned out by every day noise.”

I turn to Mikasa. “And you’re pretty brave to tell SWAT officers off.”

She just shrugs. “I don’t see it as brave.”

I nod and then go to the next person. Well, group. A tall boy with dark brown hair who seems to be sweating a lot, a blond boy who’s pretty buff, and a short blond girl who gives off as much warmth as an iceberg in a blizzard. “Hi. I’m (f/n) (l/n).” I introduce myself to them. They all look at me and I see the blond smirk. “Nah, cute is what you are.” He says to me. I can feel my cheeks start to burn at his pick-up line. “Oh, well, uh, thank you.”

“I’m Reiner Braun. This guy here’s Bertolt Hoover, and this is Annie Leonhart.”

Reiner Braun’s the Ultimate Blacksmith. He looks much more like a sports guy but when you see what he makes, you know that his talents lie with making armour and weapons. He makes them professionally for people who want a real replica of what medieval knights had, cosplayers, and medieval dinner shows. He’s won more than fifty competitions for blacksmithing. Bertolt Hoover is the Ultimate Deceit. He’s gotten away with a bunch of different crimes because of his shy and timid nature that makes him fade more into the background. Annie Leonhart is the Ultimate Fighter. Her father put her into boxing when she was a kid and beat the instructor on her first day so she started to train professionally. “So, what do you think about us being a thing when school really gets started, huh?” Reiner flirts. “Reiner, shut up.” Annie orders her friend. “Thanks for the offer.” I say. “It’s really tempting, but I have to decline.”

I quickly leave the trio to go introduce myself to a girl with auburn hair tied up into a ponytail. “Hi! I’m Sasha Braus!”

Sasha Braus runs a successful food critic website and tries food from all over the world including octopus, fried spiders and escamol. She’s friends with a bunch of different famous chefs like Gordon Ramsey and Rachel Ray. She’s also judged on a number of cooking shows and won every eating contest she’s competed in which is why she’s the Ultimate Foodie. “So, uh, when do you think we’ll get to eat?” Sasha asks me. I think for a second. “Not sure. We’ll probably have the orientation meeting and then be given a tour of the school, which will take a while, so probably not until at least eleven.”

She pouts. That’s when I notice a smell. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh, it’s a potato.” Sasha says and pulls out a whole baked potato from her jacket pocket. “Where the hell did you find a potato?!” I ask her. “Well when I woke up, I was really hungry. But my bag wasn’t with me that carried all my snacks. So before I came to the main hall, I decided to go find the dining hall. The potato was just kind of... there. Like it was waiting for me to eat it.” Sasha says and then breaks off a piece. “You want half?”

I look at the piece and see that it’s more like a quarter but I’m not hungry anyway so I politely decline. “More for me then!”

I laugh at her and then turn and see the black haired male with the stick up his ass. “Let’s get this over with.” I think to myself as I make my way over. “Hi.” I greet him. His cold eyes land on me and I instantly feel like I committed a felony or something. “Levi Ackerman.”

Levi Ackerman, distant cousin of Mikasa Ackerman, according to tabloids, who’s the Ultimate Cleaner. Apparently he grew up in the shittiest part of the city where the rats are almost the size of feet, which is where his obsession for cleanliness came from. He cleans up any vandalism from the streets and enforces no littering. He’s run mass city, beach and ocean clean ups. I decide that it’s best to leave him alone so I turn to the brown haired girl beside him who’s wearing glasses. “Hiii! I’m Hanji Zoë! The Ultimate Scientist! Also I’m non-binary, just so you know.”

Hanji Zoë definitely lives up to the title. They found a new element when they were ten and they had to do their science work from home so a university chemist and biologist could come tutor them. They even created a new cell that can protect the body from diseases like TB, certain cancers, and certain joint problems. She also won a Nobel prize. “It’s nice to meet you.” I say. “Great job on getting that Nobel prize for your cell creation!”

“Thank you, but it was nothing.” Hanji brushes my compliment off. “I don’t need an award to tell me that I helped millions of people for me to know it. Sorry, did that sound cocky?”

“No, no! It’s ok! I understand what you mean.” I tell them and then go off to the blond boy with glasses. “Hi. I’m Armin Arlert.”

Armin Arlert. The Ultimate Strategist who came up with his first strategy to get out of the orphanage he was placed in and go completely unnoticed when he was eight. After that, he started working with the military and with him on their side, there are much fewer casualties for them... but not for the other side. “So, your strategies are pretty damn good.” I say. “How on earth do you come up with them?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It just kind of happens.” Armin says awkwardly. “You get nervous about speaking about your brain, don’t you?” I ask him. He chuckles with a small blush. “Was I that obvious?”

“It’s ok. I get it. You help the military to make sure that they don’t lose as many soldiers as the other side.” I say. He nods shyly, so I move onto the next person. She has brown hair tied back into a flat ponytail. “Hi. I’m (f/n).” I introduce myself. “Ymir.” She introduces herself.

With the lack of a last name, and not hearing about her at all online, I just nod my head awkwardly and go introduce myself to the final person. He’s talking to Marco and has interesting hair. It’s ash blond with a brown undercut. “Hi, I’m (f/n) (l/n).” I introduce myself. The boy turns around and I get bit startled by his amber eyes. Eren has pretty eyes, but this guy is a full on pretty boy. He gives me a grin and I can tell he knows it, too. “Hey, Jean Kirschtein.”

Jean Kirschtein is the Ultimate Equestrian. He’s been riding horses ever since he could walk because he grew up on a farm. He entered his first equestrian competition when he was seven and has won first every year. He helps take care of horses from his own to others and even helps beginners with picking out which horse they should ride first. He even runs riding lessons at the farms for said beginners. “So, I heard that you’re the Ultimate Lucky Student, eh?” Jean asks. “Could I have some of that luck to take you horse riding?”

“Keep it PG at school, horse face!” We hear Eren mock. “I don’t have a horse face!” Jean shouts at him. “And I wasn’t implying anything!”

He’s obviously a bit embarrassed and flustered. “Alright, alright. Calm down. He’s just doing it to rile you up.” Marco says to Jean. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you look like a horse.” I tell him.

Just as I finish saying that, a bell goes off. “Ahem! Ahem! Testing, testing! Mic check, one, two! This is a test of the school’s broadcast system! Am I on? Can everyone hear me? Ok, well then...!” A voice speaks through the PA system. “Ahh, to all incoming students! I would like to begin the entrance ceremony at... right now! Please make your way to the gymnasium at your earliest convenience... That’s all. I’ll be waiting!”

“Is that voice not sitting well with anyone else or is my stomach feeling squirmy because of the potato I stole?” Sasha asks us. “No. It definitely feels odd.” Marco agrees with her. “We don’t have time for this, brats. Let’s just get on with this so I can clean. This place is absolutely filthy.” Levi says monotonously with a hint of disgust as he walks away from the group and towards the gym. I look at Jean and Marco and the three of us follow him, followed by everyone else. We all make it to the gym in a few short minutes. I see Hanji go towards the trophy case and look straight at this gold and purple katana. “Oo, pretty!” They exclaim and then touch the handle but immediately retract their hand. “Damn, that thing is absolutely coated in gold dust! My hand looks like El Dorado!”

“Um... anyone else find it weird that the hall’s are completely empty?” Krista asks as we enter the gym itself. “I haven’t even heard any other classes going in the classrooms.”

“Yeah, man. I’m getting weirded out, now.” Connie agrees with her. “And did anyone else notice that there were machine guns in front of the entrance which looked like a vault door?” Eren asks. “It’s probably nothing, Eren.” Mikasa says. “Why would they have machine guns in a school?”

He nods but I see him shift uncomfortably. “Hey there, howdy, hello!” The voice from earlier greets. “Is everyone here? Good! Then let’s get things rolling!”

We all look towards the stage which has a podium in the centre and the school crest above it, which are two wings; one white and one blue. As we await our headmaster to walk on stage, a black and white teddy bear pops up and lands on the podium. I hear Connie snort back a laugh. “A teddy bear?” Krista asks in confusion. “I’m not a teddy bear!” The bear says lowly. “I... am... Monokuma! And I am this school’s headmaster!”

I try to wrap my head around what’s happening. A teddy bear- er, uh, Monokuma is our headmaster who’s mouth doesn’t even move when he’s talking. I look around at all my classmates, particularly Connie, to see if this is a joke of his, but everyone looks just as confused as I am. Except Annie but she’s devoid of all of emotion. Hell, even Levi has an eyebrow quirked at the oddness. “Nice to meet you all!”

“Ok, Connie.” Reiner says. “This was hilarious, best prank you’ve ever pulled! But can you turn off the teddy bear now?”

“I’m not doing this, I swear! You guys can search me for a remote or whatever.” Connie responds. “I don’t think he has the intelligence needed to build that. No offence, Connie.” Armin says. I see Connie look slightly offended at the words. “I told you already, I’m not a teddy bear... I’m Monokuma! And I’m your headmaster!” Monokuma shouts angrily as he moves his arms up to display further emotion. “AH! It moved!” Sasha screeches. “No shit, Sherlock.” Levi mumbles. “Oh, calm down, everyone! It’s obviously just a remote controlled toy!” Hanji says. “How dare you compare me to a child’s plaything!” Monokuma says. “You’ve cut me deep. Deeper than the Mariana Trench... My remote control system is so complex, even the folks in the Military Police can’t recreate or even comprehend it! Then again, that place is full of nitwits! Now then, moving on! We really must hurry and get started... Everyone, stand at attention and bow! And... good morning!”

Marco does as he’s told. “Good morning, sir!”

“Marco, stand up.” Jean whispers and pulls the boy up from his bow. “Don’t fall for this shit.”

“Now then, let us commence with a most noteworthy and memorable entrance ceremony!” Monokuma says. “First, let’s talk a bit about what your school life here will be like. Now, ah, make no mistake- you few students, so full of potential, represent the hope of the world. And to protect such splendid hope... you will all live a communal life together solely within the confines of this school. Everyone will live in harmony together, and adhere to the school’s rules and regulations. Ah, now then... regarding the end date of this communal life... there isn’t one! In other words, you’ll all be here until the day you die! Such is the school life you’ve been assigned.”

“Until we die? What kind of fucked up bullshit is this?” Levi asks. “Oh, but fear not!” Monokuma assures us. “We have quite an abundant budget, so you won’t lack for all the common conveniences.”

“That’s still not very comforting.” I tell him. “You gotta be screwing with us!” Connie says. “I am not screwing with you!” Monokuma shouts angrily. “I am no liar, of that you can be 100% sure. Ah, and just for your information... you’re completely cut off from the outside world. So you don’t have to worry about that dirty, dirty land beyond these walls ever again!”

I feel my pockets for my phone. “They took our phones!” I announce. Everyone then starts to check themselves for theirs, too. “So, then... all those metal plates all over the school... they’re there to keep us trapped in here?” Reiner asks him. “That’s exactly what they’re there for.” Monokuma confirms. “No matter how much you may yell and scream for help... help will not come. So with all that in mind, feel free to live out your life here with reckless abandon!”

“Come on, what the hell is this? It’s not funny!” Eren asks. “You all keep saying this is a lie, or a joke.” Monokuma says. “A bunch of skeptics, all of you. But I guess you can’t help it, huh? You all grew up in an age where you’re taught to doubt your neighbour... Well, you’ll have plenty of time to find out whether or not what I say is true. And when that time comes, you’ll see with your own eyes that I speak the undeniable truth.” Monokuma answers Eren.

“I don’t want to live here forever! This is bullshit!” Jean shouts nervously. No one else looks pleased with the news. “Come, now. What’s the matter with all of you? You decided of your own free will to attend Hope’s Peak Academy, didn’t you? And now, before the entrance ceremony is even finished, you’ve already decided that you want to leave? Oh, but you know... I guess I did forget to mention one thing. There is one way for you to leave the school...” Monokuma leaves us in hopeful suspense.

“Spit it out, already.” Annie orders. “Ok, ok! Calm down!” Monokuma says. “As headmaster, I’ve crafted a special clause for those of you who would like to leave! I call it... the Graduation Clause! Now, let me tell you about this fun little rule. As I mentioned, in order to maintain an environment of harmony here, we rely on a communal lifestyle. And if someone were to disrupt that harmony, they, and they alone, would be allowed to leave the school. That, my students, is the Graduation Clause!”

“So by disrupting the peace, all we need to do is fling shit, literally, at people and we can just... go?” Levi asks with a hint of skepticism in his voice. Monokuma laughs. “No. Not exactly. But... if someone were murder another. (“Murder?!” We all repeat in shock) Stabbing, strangling, bludgeoning, crushing, hacking, drowning, igniting, how you do it doesn’t matter. You must kill someone if you want to leave. It’s as simple as that. The rest is up to you. Give it your all to achieve the best outcome in the worst way possible!”

The air goes suffocatingly thick as we all process the situation at hand. We’re trapped in here for life unless we commit murder. There’s no way to contact the outside world, all the windows are boarded up with giant plates of metal, and our headmaster is a complete psycho. No one wants to believe this. It’s something straight out of a horror movie or a TV show created by someone seriously fucked up. Monokuma’s laugh brings us all out of our stupor. “I bet that got your brain juices flowing! Beats the heck out of a human catching a salmon, huh? Like I said before, you guys are the hope of the world. But you know... taking that hope and seeing it get murdered creates a darkened shadow of despair. And I just find that so. Darn. Exciting!”

“You’re insane!” Krista exclaims as she starts to cry a bit. “You guys just don’t get it, do you?” Monokuma asks. “‘Let us go, let us go!’ You keep on saying the same thing over and over and over and over...! Listen. From this moment on, this school is your home, your life, your world. Got it? And you can kill as much as you wanna kill! So go ahead! Go on a kill-kill-killing spree!”

No one makes a move, or a sound, for a good few seconds until Mikasa walks up to the podium. She just stands there. “Eh? Well what do you want?” Monokuma asks her. When he finishes speaking, she grabs him by his little bear neck and lifts him off the ground. Monokuma waves his arms up and down. “I don’t know if you’re a toy, and, frankly, I don’t care, but you just threatened myself, Eren and everyone else here with murder. If it’s murder you want, it’s murder you’ll get.” Mikasa says and pulls out a pocketknife from her pants pocket. “Waah! Violence against the headmaster is in violation of school regulations!” Monokuma shouts. “You never said that before.” Mikasa says stoically. “And all we need to do is disturb the peace to leave, right? So all I need to do is pull out your stuffing and I’ll get to leave. And since you won’t be around, I’ll take everyone here with me.”

He doesn’t respond except for some kind of beeping. “Is he shutting down?” I question. The beeping then gets louder and more frequent. I then hear a gasp come from behind me. “Throw it!” Hanji instructs. “What?” Mikasa responds. “Throw the damn bear! He’s gonna explode!” Hanji explains. Mikasa immediately throws the bear away and then throws herself onto Eren so he doesn’t get hurt as Monokuma explodes.

I jump from the sudden sound and hear Krista squeak in surprise. “Well, shit. That really throws the reality of this situation in our faces.” Levi says with his usual emotionless voice, but there’s a hint of nervousness behind it. “Wait, guys, Mikasa still killed it!” I point out. “Yeah! The bastard bear’s destroyed!” Eren cheers. “Uh... I-I wouldn’t be so sure...” Armin speaks up as Monokuma reappears on the podium. “Nice try! But it’ll take a lot more than a silly explosion to kill me!”

“Oh, come on! What the hell is this?!” Reiner shouts. “So I was almost killed for nothing?” Mikasa asks. “Of course! You violated one of the school regulations, after all. I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but you’d better be careful from now on. Any naughty boy or girl who violates my rules won’t get off with just a little swat on the butt.” Monokuma threatens. I swear I see a vein on his forehead pop out from the anger. “Wait... if you exploded... and you’re back... does that mean that there are more of you?” Hanji asks him. “Mhm! Yup! There’s also surveillance cameras installed everywhere so I’ll be able to see if you break the rules. Then it’s bye-bye birdie! Now that that’s out of the way, to commemorate your joyous entry into our school, I have a little something for you...” Monokuma says and then flat tablets appear before each of us from the ground. “This is your official student handbook! Pretty cool, huh? As you can see, it’s fully digital. So naturally, we called it... the E-Handbook!”

“Wow... I wonder how many brain cells it took to come up with that?” Hanji says sarcastically. “Ignoring that rude comment, this handbook is absolutely vital to a healthy school life, so don’t lose it! When you start it up, it will display your name. Always make sure you have the right one! Now, this is not your everyday notebook. It has so many more uses than that! Also, it’s completely waterproof. Splash it, wash it, drown it, it’ll keep ticking! And thanks to its space-age design, it can withstand an impact force of up to ten tons. It’s very resistant! It contains all of our school regulations, so make sure you review them thoroughly! You’ll hear me say this a lot, but any violation of school regulations will not be tolerated.”

“This is gonna get pretty fucking annoying.” Ymir groans. “Well, then, don’t violate the rules and you won’t hear it often, sweets. (“Sweets?! Why you-!” Ymir growls but refuses to move so nothing else happens.) Rules restrict, yes, but they also protect. Society, for example, would be utter chaos without laws. (“It’s got a point...” Annie agrees with Monokuma). The same thing applies here! Which is why it’s crucial that we have strict punishments in place for violators. Ok, well... that brings our entrance ceremony to a close! Please enjoy your abundantly dreary school life! See ya!” Monokuma says before disappearing.

With him now gone, we all have time to properly process what we were all just told. I can feel the fear lingering in the air. This school is wrongfully named after Hope. Like he said, the opposite of hope is despair... which is the state that all of us are currently in.

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chronictonsillitis · 4 years

Text

this bed ain't big enough for the two of us (a bellarke fic)

“Just stay up late, like the rest of us,” Bellamy said, turning back to his desk, “Or find somewhere else to sleep.”

Futilely, he tried to zone back in his homework. His eyes narrowed as he heard not the sound of the door, but a creak of bedsprings and the ruffle of covers.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked.

“Yes?”

He turned slowly to face her. “That is not what I meant.”

**** Clarke's roommate Octavia keeps sexiling her at inopportune times. Good thing their RA is Octavia's brother and also a complete pushover. (a bedsharing fic)

(AO3) or

She stalked past him into his room the minute the door swung open, audibly huffing. “Your sister is a fucking menace.”

“Please, do come in,” Bellamy said blandly. Dropping the door, he leaned up against it as it shut, crossing his arms across his chest. He raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

Clarke was dressed for bed, but she looked ready to fight. Her face was bright red, and she clutched a bag of toiletries tightly in one fist. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and Bellamy had to actively force his eyes away from creamy skin exposed by her tank top.

He’d met Clarke the week of move-in, a few months back. Bellamy was both her RA and her roommate’s brother, so he knew her probably better than any of the other people on the hall, with the exception of Octavia. They did not, as a rule, get along very well; at least topically. Bellamy and Clarke ended up in the same circles a lot because of Octavia and other mutual friends, and they spent a lot of that time sniping at each other.

That said, she was smart, and funny, and nice to his sister, and half the time when they fought it was more a battle of wills than anything else. Bellamy liked her, honestly, even if he was loathe to admit it; but it was still a surprise for her to be here, in his room, at this hour of night.

Did he mention she was pretty? Clarke was very pretty, even when she was clearly enraged.

“Your sister,” Clarke spat, her teeth gritted, “Has somehow, in the five minutes I was in the bathroom, managed to come home and start fucking her boyfriend in our room.”

Bellamy blinked. “What?”

Clarke threw up her hands in frustration. “Octavia and her boyfriend are boning in my room. It’s already 11:30, and I have an 8 AM class tomorrow.”

Bellamy looked at her, confused. And more than a little grossed out, really. “And you’re telling me… why?”

“You’re the RA!” Clarke growled. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, do something?”

Bellamy snorted. “That’s not really in my job description,” he drawled, pushing off the wall. Crossing the room, he sat back down at his desk in front of his work. Clarke continued to stand in front of his bed, glaring at his back. He gestured with a highlighter towards the door. “Feel free to see yourself out.”

“Are you serious?” Clarke protested. “It’s roommate conflict, and quiet hours. That’s definitely RA stuff.”

Bellamy spun lazily in his chair to face her. She crossed her arms indignantly, her chin high.

“Honestly, Clarke, if it were anybody else I might humor you.” He shrugged apologetically. “But it’s O. And for the sake of our relationship, I’m going to continue willfully pretending that Lincoln doesn’t exist.”

Clarke groaned. “But what am I supposed to do?” Her voice was shrill, almost a whine, and it made Bellamy want to laugh. “I need to go to sleep.”

Bellamy shrugged again. “Stay up late, like the rest of us.” He turned back to his desk. “Or find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Fine,” she said.

Bellamy nodded. “Great. Glad to help.”

Futilely, he tried to zone back in his homework. His eyes narrowed as he heard not the sound of the door, but a creak of bedsprings and the ruffle of covers.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked.

“Yes?”

He turned slowly to face her. “That is not what I meant.”

She looked innocently at him from her spot tucked beneath his blankets. His dick twitched at the image of her in his bed, and he willed it down. It was inappropriate. She was a freshman, and he was technically an authority figure, even if he was pretty shitty at his job. Just because she was Octavia's roommate and they hung out more off the hall than on did not mean she was exempt from his RA oversight. Seriously. It didn't.

He internally pointed an accusing finger at his libido. It didn't.

“You can’t sleep in my bed.”

Clarke blinked up at him. “Why not?” She asked petulantly. “You’re not using it.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I will be.”

She shrugged and rolled over, snuggling deeper into the covers. “Wake me up when you need it. I’m sure they’ll be done by then.

He stared at her back for a minute, considering, then shrugged. He flicked on his desk lamp, and got up, going over to the wall and turning off the overhead.

Clarke sighed contentedly from his bed. “Perfect.”

Bellamy tried to focus on his work and not the sleepy sounds of the girl behind him. Eventually the clock hit 2 AM and he closed his books with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes.

He stood up, looked at the blonde curled up snugly in his bed, and shook his head. Grabbing his toiletries, he slipped out of his room to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he returned, he sat on the edge of his bed and gently shook Clarke awake.

“Hey, c’mon,” Bellamy said softly. “Time for you to go to your own bed.”

Clarke blinked at him slowly and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Just past two in the morning.”

Clarke nodded, wetting her lips, and sat up. Bellamy watched with barely concealed amusement as she dragged herself out of the bed and fumbled for her things with barely opened eyes, collecting them and lurching towards the door.

“You know,” he said, a small grin teasing the corners of his lips. Clarke looked at him, one hand on the doorknob. “You could say thank you.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed and she flipped him the bird. Bellamy laughed as the door clicked shut behind her. He stripped off his shirt and flicked off his desk lamp, climbing into the bed she’d just vacated. The sheets were warm and his pillow smelled sweet, girly somehow. It wasn’t a bad smell, he decided.

Not at all.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep quickly, dreaming of blue eyes and blonde hair and full tits in a thin purple tank top.

Oh yeah, Bellamy thought upon waking; sweet smell in his nose, hard cock tenting his pants. He was definitely fucked.

****

The next time she knocked was a little over a week later, just long enough for Bellamy to be surprised to find her waiting outside his door.

“Did you need something?” he asked, standing in the jamb of the doorway, door propped open with one arm.

Clarke pouted at him. She was wearing a different tank top this time, he noticed somewhat unwillingly. This one was white. And just a little bit see-through.

She looked up at him puppy dog eyes that made him instantly suspicious. “Are you going to be up for a while longer?”

“Maybe,” Bellamy said effusively, knowing that he certainly was. “Why?”

“Great,” Clarke said brightly, trying to step past him into his room. Bellamy rolled his eyes and closed the door slightly, blocking her passage.

“Oh, come on!” Clarke huffed, and Bellamy cracked a smile. “Please?”

“Nice try,” he said. “But no.”

Bellamy gave her a smirk and went to turn back into his room, but Clarke stuck her foot in the door, stopping it from closing. He frowned at her.

“What part of no was unclear to you?”

Clarke smiled sweetly back in response. “The part where if you don’t let me stay, I’m going to sit outside your door and loudly describe, in detail, what I just walked in on in my room.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

There were few things in life Bellamy wanted to hear about less than his little sister’s sex life. Maybe no things, in fact. Clarke had picked nearly the ultimate ammunition. He should resent it, but honestly, he was a little impressed.

Clarke’s grin grew wider. “Oh yes, I really would.”

Bellamy let out a big sigh, and opened the door fully, letting her in. She immediately climbed into his bed, curling up and closing her eyes with a catlike satisfaction that made Bellamy smile despite himself.

“You play dirty, Princess,” he noted, watching her from his place beside the door.

“I know,” Clarke said with a yawn. “Can you turn off the lights please?”

“So needy,” he grumbled; but complied, flipping them off and going back to sit at his desk. “This is the last time, alright? Either work it out with O or find somewhere else to go.”

Clarke hummed in response. “Shhh,” she said, her voice muffled by his comforter, “I’m sleeping.”

Bellamy just shook his head.

****

It wasn’t the last time, not by far.

It honestly wouldn’t have been so much of a problem, but Bellamy actually liked Clarke. She was snarky, and smart, and beautiful; and 100% off limits, because, again, she was a freshman and his sister’s roommate and he was her RA. That would be bad. Bad vibes. No good, creepy, dirty rotten vibes.

Even if his sister, who was the same age as Clarke, was dating a guy the same age as Bellamy, it was still bad. Because Bellamy did not approve of that relationship, so he definitely couldn’t use it to justify crushing on Clarke. Because that would be hypocritical of him, so he absolutely couldn’t crush on Clarke, no matter how hard it was not to do so.

And he wouldn’t have such a hard time not crushing on Clarke if he didn’t have to smell her on his sheets and wake up with her name on his lips.

Well, probably, at least.

So she definitely couldn’t keep sleeping over. It wasn’t working, and he needed to nip it in the bud before anyone (Bellamy) got in too deep.

The fifth time she came by, Bellamy tried just not responding to her knocks. This was not an effective strategy, because after the fifth knock, she simply opened his door and strode right in, planting herself directly in his bed as he gaped at her.

“Um— No?”

Clarke shrugged petulantly. “You weren’t answering the door.”

“You can’t—” Bellamy stuttered, eyes wide. “What if I’d been naked or something?”

Or watching porn, he thought in horror, imagining Clarke seeing just what he’d been watching lately. His normal type was tall, thin, leggy brunettes; which was reflected in his porn habits, but for some strange reason, he hadn’t been finding himself clicking on those kinds of videos lately.

No, these days he watched more along the lines of ‘Busty Amateur Blonde Coed Gets Railed By Massive Cock!!!’ or, you know, something similar. Something more or less tasteful, but just as absolutely damning.

His theory about the smell of her on his sheets being his root problem was probably not quite as accurate as he hoped, but too bad. Bellamy could dream.

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, dismissing the question. “Okay, but you weren’t naked.”

“But what if I had been?”

He needed to stop imagining that exact scenario. It was making him sweat.

Clarke looked at him demurely, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “What if I’d been someone else and you hadn’t answered?”

Bellamy glared at her. “I knew it was you, no one else comes by this late.”

Clarke gave him a satisfied look as he walked into her trap. “But what if it hadn’t been?”

“You—” Bellamy started, narrowing his eyes and pointing an accusing finger at her. Clarke smiled sweetly back, and he let out a huff, deflating. “You’re a pain.”

Clarke hummed in agreement, wrapping herself up in his blankets. He watched as her blonde hair splayed gold across his pillow, which would undoubtably smell like her for at least the next two days.

Bellamy had to force his eyes away from her, turning his attention back to his work. After a few minutes though, she broke the silence.

“Hey, Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

His hand clenched around his pen and his eyes closed tight for a second. Her voice was so soft, so sweet, so fucking—he had to stop.

“What?”

Clarke let out a breathy hum that shot right to his dick. Maybe she wanted to tell him she liked him. Maybe this was all some big seduction, and she was going to ask him to join her and—

“Can you turn out the lights?”

Bellamy groaned.

****

After that, he started locking his door so she couldn’t just waltz in. This, unfortunately, was just as effective as he’d hoped.

Which is to say, it kept her out of his room, but not his head.

“Who is it?” Bellamy called out, when he heard the first knock.

There was no response. Instead of stopping, which was his expectation of how this would play out, the knocking came faster, more insistent.

Which, okay, he knew was probably her, but he couldn’t just leave a student stranded in the hall. He went to the door and cracked it open, catching just enough of a peek of blonde before closing it again, sliding the lock shut.

“Hey!” Clarke called.

“Go away, Clarke.”

“There’s no where else to go!”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, leaning his weight on the door with one hand. “There’s couches in the common room.”

“C’mon, Bellamy,” she whined outside his door. “Please, just let me in.”

He felt it pull at his heart, begging him. He thought, maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad. Who was he really hurting by letting her sleep there? Definitely not her.

And if she was there, he’d be able to look at her, and listen to the little breathy noises she made as she fell asleep. He wondered what tank top she was wearing tonight, if it was the white one. Bellamy really liked the white one, because— Okay, no. No, no, no.

“Sorry! Can’t hear you! Putting my headphones in!”

Bellamy walked back to his desk and sat down, listening to her grumble outside the door. Eventually, he heard her stomp down the hall.

When he climbed into bed that night, his pillow didn’t smell like anything but detergent. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any better.

****

She didn’t come back for weeks after that.

This made Bellamy both happy, because he could finally stop popping a hard-on every time he sniffed his pillow; and sad, because he really fucking wanted to see Clarke in his bed again.

He saw her during the day, sure, but their schedules didn’t line up quite so well anymore, and she was so different in public. Harder, somehow.

Not to mention she wore more clothes, although he should’ve taken that as a blessing. Unfortunately, even with Clarke no longer sleeping in his bed, Bellamy still regularly dreamed about her. Her and her smart mouth, and her full tits, and her sweet smile and— he was fucked! Just absolutely fucked.

The knock this time came around 9 PM, which made it stand out. Clarke usually didn’t come until later, and she hadn’t been by since the last time when he’d refused to let her in. Still, better to be cautious.

“Who is it?” Bellamy called.

“It’s Clarke.” Of course it was. He grinned, leaning back in his chair. At least she still wanted to sleep in his bed, even if he couldn’t let her.

“No.”

Clarke huffed behind the door. “Bellamy, seriously, this time I really need to come in.”

He tossed his pen up in the air and caught it, lips curled in a smug smile. “Seriously, you really need to find somewhere else to go. It’s not even late anyways, just wait up.”

“I’ve been sleeping on the couches like you suggested—which by the way, fucking sucks—but this time I seriously need to come in.”

Her voice was sincere —desperate, even— and Bellamy frowned, sitting back up. “Why?”

“Just—” Clarke sighed heavily. “Will you please open the door? Just this once, I promise.”

Bellamy was getting a little worried, so he gave in, standing and making his way over to the door. He unlatched the lock and peered down at her through a crack in the door.

“Oh,” he said, and stepped back from the door.

Clarke followed him in, quietly glaring. She was wearing only a towel, hair wet on her shoulders, clearly having just come from the shower.

“Uh,” Bellamy stuttered, rucking a hand through his hair. He tried to keep his eyes averted but they kept being drawn back to the glistening skin. “Do you— can I get you something to wear?”

“Please.” Clarke sat down on his bed and Bellamy’s mouth went dry as the towel strained at the top where it was tucked above her breasts.

He continued staring down at her, throat ticking. “Right, I—” She raised one eyebrow and her his eyes away, flushing. “You can just grab whatever.”

Bellamy gestured at the dresser and sat back down, trying to school his expression. “Shirts are on top, shorts and sweatpants are on the bottom.”

He listened to the sound of his drawers opening and closing, pretending to focus on his work, but all he could think about was how she was right there, so close, and so nearly naked. The scent he’d smelled on his pillow must have been her shampoo, because it was strong enough for him to smell it from his desk, warm and sweet and damp, carried like steam from her wet hair.

“Don’t turn around,” Clarke warned, and Bellamy nodded.

His fingers clenched around his paper with a crunch as he heard the soft thump of her towel hitting the ground behind him. Bellamy listened to the ruffle of cloth as she dressed and tried desperately not to picture the skin being covered up.

“Okay,” Clarke said, and Bellamy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s safe.”

He turned in his desk chair to look at her and nearly groaned. She’d picked his soccer shirt from high school, emblazoned with his name across the back, and—

“Are those my boxers?”

Clarke blushed and looked down, tugging on the hem of the shirt that nearly covered them completely. God, he was so fucked for this girl. Just excruciatingly fucked. Someone up there had to be playing a joke on him. “Sorry, was that not okay?”

Bellamy shrugged. “No, no, it’s—” So fucking hot, he thought, and swallowed hard, shaking the words away. “It’s fine.”

“Alright, cool,” Clarke said, smiling shyly. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to be naked, I’ll go to the common room now.”

She moved towards the door and Bellamy’s heart leapt into his throat.

“No!” Clarke stopped still, startled, and Bellamy winced, collecting himself. “Sorry, I just meant, uh— you can stay, if you want.”

“Oh,” she replied, surprised.

Bellamy shrugged, attempting to come off nonchalant and not like the absolute creepy pervert he was being. “I mean, just this once, if you want.”

“Okay,” Clarke agreed, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Thanks.”

“I’ll just—” he stuttered, gesturing to the papers he’d been grading. His ears were hot, and he hoped to god that he wasn’t visibly blushing.

“Right.” Clarke settled onto his bed, and he turned back to his desk, mentally cursing himself.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice curious.

He turned to look at her, surprised. “Grading papers.”

She was sitting up on his bed, leaning up against the wall, her head cocked slightly as she watched him. “For what?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Shouldn’t you—why aren’t you sleeping?”

Clarke shrugged, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Sorry, it’s still kinda early, even for me, but I’ll stop bothering you.”

“No!” Bellamy said quickly. “No, it’s fine, I was just wondering. The papers are for the class I TA.”

“Yes, I figured,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “But what class?”

“Uh, Magic and Myth in the Roman Tradition.” He gave her an abashed smile, rubbing the back of his neck. He had learned over the years that Classics? Not a sexy field of study. In fact, usually so decidedly unsexy that he often got teased, even if it was friendly. “Probably not your thing.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted, but grinned back. “But how will I know if you don’t tell me about it?”

Oh, for the love of— Fuck. She was perfect. Sitting there on his bed, in his clothes, eyes fucking sparkling, not making fun of him for his embarrassing interests—

Bellamy leaned back, and told her everything.

****

She was back three days later. Despite his better judgement, he unlocked the door on the first knock, leaning in the doorway to look at her.

“So I know you said just this once…” Clarke trailed off, giving him a hopeful grin.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, and opened the door wider, letting her past.

Clarke’s eyes widened and she bounced into the room, throwing herself into his pillows with a sigh. Bellamy watched, amused.

“Tired?”

Clarke groaned, closing her eyes. “Fucking exhausted.”

His lips quirked into a small smile and he turned back to his desk, settling in front of his work. After a few minutes of pretending to read his paper, his eyes flicked over to Clarke, happily tucked beneath his comforter.

“You know,” he said, tapping his pen against the edge of the desk. “You haven’t given my clothes back yet.”

She peeked her head out of the covers, gazing at him petulantly. “They look better on me.”

And, in her defense, Bellamy agreed with her. They did certainly look better on her. In fact, they looked fantastic. Wonderful enough that Bellamy hadn’t stopped thinking about it since she’d left his room, but, then again, he was fucked.

Something deep and possessive in him had really liked seeing Blake on her back as she’d left the room. He wondered if anybody else had seen. He kinda hoped they had.

Which, no! Bad! He was her RA. It would be inappropriate for the other freshman on hall to see her wearing his clothing. Definitely bad. Very bad.

But, god, did he wish.

“You can’t keep them,” he said, not meaning it for a goddamn second.

“I’ll bring them by tomorrow,” Clarke muttered, and rolled away from him. “Now hush.”

Bellamy put in a token grumble, but suppressed a smile, watching as she made herself comfortable in his bed. In his fucking sheets. Not in his clothes this time, which was a goddamn shame. He wondered if he could somehow gift them to her.

That night, when he woke her up to leave, she yawned and put a hand on his cheek.

Bellamy froze as she gazed up at him with tired blue eyes. “This won’t be the last time.”

Her voice was soft, teasing, and he felt his heart clench with joy and hope and—something else.

“No,” Bellamy said, and smiled. Clarke grinned back, dragging herself upright as he sat back and watched. “No, I don’t think it will.”

****

And it wasn’t. Clarke was back regularly, at least three times a week. He didn’t fight her on it anymore, and he didn’t lock his door unless he was actually doing something unsavory.

It became almost routine, having her come in. She’d slip through the door and plop right into bed, rolling herself up in his sheets. Sometimes she’d stay up and they’d talk about her classes, her friends, his friends, the world, anything really. Sometimes she’d turn out the overhead light as she came in and he’d know it wasn’t a talking night. He started to keep his desk light on in the evenings, just in case.

Tonight had been a tired night, and all he’d heard from her was the soft sounds of her falling asleep. She didn’t talk in her sleep, not quite, but she did make these little groans. Bellamy really liked hearing them. He didn’t care to put a lot of critical thought into why that was, nor about just when those sounds made a reappearance in his imagination.

Nope, nothing unsavory here.

When it was time, he shook her awake as usual and watched her leave, taking a deep breath before gathering up his toiletries and heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he’d finished, Bellamy started to make his way back to his room, but as he passed by the common room, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. Why was she—?

“Clarke?”

Her head twisted, looking at him. “What?”

His eyebrow’s furrowed, mouth curving into a frown. “Why don’t you just go to your own room?”

“I tried,” she sighed. “They’re not done.”

Bellamy made a face. “Seriously?”

Clarke shrugged, looking exhausted. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“You’re just gonna sleep out here?”

She smiled wryly at him. “Don’t really have anywhere else to go, as my spare bed is about to be occupied.” She nodded her chin at his sleep pants. “It’s fine, like I said, it’s not the first time.”

And Bellamy— he really didn’t like that for some reason. It sat twisted in a hard ball in his throat, choking him.

He thought about her face as she slept, so soft and vulnerable, and the idea of someone else coming into he common room and finding her. Someone else seeing her, asleep in her little shorts and her goddamn too thin tank top, the buds of her nipples clearly visible through the fabric. Someone else touching her, shaking her to wake her up, offering her their bed, climbing in after her— No. He didn’t like that at all.

(Dude…..Fucked.)

“You know, I’m sure we could both fit in my bed,” Bellamy blurted, and immediately blanched, running a hand along the back of his neck. “I mean, if you want.”

Clarke eyed him, her expression implacable. “Is that— are you offering?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bellamy said, and shrugged. He felt tension grown with each passing second. “Sorry, that was inappropriate, I—”

“No!” Clarke said quickly. “No, I mean, that would be great. If you’re sure.”

He grinned tentatively. “Okay, cool.”

She got up and followed him to his room, climbing back into his bed. Bellamy stood by the door, throat ticking, one hand on the light switch.

This was— more than he had necessarily prepared for. All the time of her in his bed, sure he’d imagined joining her, but for it to really be happening… What was he supposed to do? Which side was he supposed to take? What if they touched? Would he wake up before her, or would she be gone in the morning?

Clarke turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming to bed?”

Bellamy’s lips quirked up, and he flicked off the light.

He slid into bed, feeling the distant warmth of her body in his sheets. His bed really was big enough for the two of them, and he lamented the fact. It was hard to think about sleep with her so close, the smell of her hair stronger than ever what with the source being within touching distance, but eventually his eyes closed, and he drifted off.

He woke up in the morning to an unfamiliar alarm, and a blonde clamoring over him. His hand reached out automatically to grab her arm and she stopped with one knee on either side of his body, looking down at him.

“Uh, sorry,” Clarke said, looking away. In his drowsy state he caught a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed to have stayed with him? Bellamy wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I really have to—”

She tugged at the arm in his grip and he released her. “Right.”

She gave him a tight smile, climbing off him and turning off her alarm. “Well, I’ve got to go to class, but thanks.”

“No problem,” Bellamy said, swallowing hard. “I mean—it was just this once. No big deal.”

“Right, of course.” Clarke looked away from him, her expression unreadable. “Well, thanks anyways.”

Bellamy watched as she gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “Right, yeah.”

She nodded as she left. “See you around.”

The door swung shut behind her, and Bellamy let out a long breath. “Fuck.”

That was— he did not handle that well. He wasn’t sure how exactly he should’ve handled it, but it wasn’t like that. It was so fucking awkward, she’d never want to come back.

He pulled down the covers and glared down at the insistent erection that had emerged as Clarke had straddled him, her bare thighs flanking his stomach, hips just north of his crotch, so tantalizingly close and—

Bellamy threw an arm over his eyes, hissing through his teeth.

“Fuck.”

****

He tried not to obsess about it, about having had Clarke in his bed with him. After all, it was just one time, and nothing had happened.

That may have made it worse though. He couldn’t help but feel like her had squandered his only chance, like he should’ve stayed awake and made the most of every second, even though that would’ve been fucking creepy and also probably not as interesting and romantic as his brain was making it out to be.

Still, Bellamy kept himself satiated with the fact that she kept coming back anyways, even if he didn’t get to share the bed with her.

One night a few weeks later, he came out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth to find Clarke walking in the opposite direction of her room. Bellamy frowned.

“Where are you going?”

She looked back at him, confused. “Common room.”

His jaw clenched, eyes widening. “Again?” Clarke shrugged, and Bellamy’s frown deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her eyebrows drew together, forehead wrinkling. “Why would I?”

“Oh,” Bellamy said, his voice short. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem like— I mean, if you’d rather sleep in there, you can, of course.”

“What?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy stared back. “What?”

Clarke frowned. “Rather sleep in there compared to what?”

“Oh,” Bellamy stuttered, rucking a hand through his hair. “Instead of with me, I guess. But it’s fine if you don’t want to, obviously, I just— you know, the option—” he looked at Clarke, who was still staring blankly at him and winced, teeth grinding at the nonsense spilling out of his lips. “You know what? Never mind. Sorry.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “You said ‘just this once’.”

“I— What?”

She stared at him hard, expression tight. “Last time, when I slept over. You said it was fine ‘just this once’.”

“Oh,” Bellamy said dumbly. He gave her a sheepish shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, when have I ever meant that? I lied, I guess.”

“So I can sleep in your room tonight?” Clarke asked, and he nodded. “And if this happens again?”

Whenever you want, he thought, Always. He then immediately fought to beat that horny, breathy, bastard part of his mind down with an imaginary chair.

“Yeah, I mean—“ Bellamy shifted uncomfortably, feeling his ears get hot. “Clarke, I’m not going to make you sleep in the common room.”

“Huh,” she said. “Okay. Good to know.”

She followed him back to his room, letting him lead. Remembering the last time, Bellamy made sure to take the side of the bed closest to the wall. As much as he’d enjoyed—loved, obsessed over—having her climb over his body in the morning, it was probably not advisable to have her that close to certain parts of his anatomy, especially when he couldn’t guarantee their reactions.

Clarke turned off the light and slid into bed after him. They lay facing each other, their bodies distantly curled towards one another.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he smiled.

“You must really hate the couches.”

Clarke let out a little huff of a laugh. “I mean yes, I do, but I also really like your bed.”

Bellamy’s heart stuttered, and he longed to reach out and touch her face. “Even when I’m in it?”

“Even then.” Clarke gave him a soft grin that made him melt even further. “Maybe even better then.”

“Well,” Bellamy said, fighting the urge to pull her towards him. “I guess it’s not so bad having you in it either.”

The light in the room was dim, but he could still see her roll her eyes. “Oh, save it,” Clarke said, and snuggled into his pillow. Bellamy watched fondly as she closed her eyes. “We both know you like it.”

And, yeah. He did. He really, really did.

****

It became a somewhat regular thing, the two of the sharing the bed. In the beginning, he was very polite, and stiff; careful not to let any part of his body touch hers.

Bellamy kept waiting, somewhat romantically, for them to wake up entangled in each other, but it never happened. They fell asleep apart, and woke up apart. No touching, just the distant warmth of the other person.

One night though, the AC was on a little too high, and Clarke rolled towards him, tucking her face into his chest. Bellamy’s back stiffened, surprised and unsure.

“I’m freezing,” she huffed, pressing her cold nose to the skin of his chest. It was pretty chilly, he guessed, but she was also wearing very little clothing, just her standard tank top and shorts. Bellamy had at least opted for sweatpants, although he was still shirtless.

His arm came up tentatively to wrap around her. “Is this— is this okay?”

Clarke nodded, burrowing further into him, as though she could absorb all of his heat. Bellamy started as she pressed her icy hands against his stomach.

“Jesus, Princess,” he yelped, jerking back from her. She pressed forward insistently and he let out a huff, wrapping her tighter in his arms. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Wouldn’t be so cold if you didn’t insist on sleeping six feet away from me,” she murmured against his skin, and he felt something in his chest leap.

“And what would you prefer?” Bellamy asked, heart in his throat.

Clarke let out a satisfied sigh, snuggling into him. His hand stroked timidly over her hair. “This is good.”

(God, he was fucked.)

“Huh,” he choked, his fingers grazing the strap of her tank top. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

(Just simply fucked. Ruined. Gonzo.)

He made sure to keep his crotch away from her, at least. No need to go about revealing just how easily his cock responded to her touch. And her smell. And her face. And her body. And her words.

Okay, so just to her in general.

Bellamy had it bad.

****

There was something to be said for sharing a bed, sleeping wrapped up in each other. It was a kind of intimacy Bellamy had never really considered, especially with someone who he was not dating, nor even fucking; but having it was fucking amazing. He loathed the nights when she went back to her room and stayed there.

In fact, he was starting to dread having to wake her up at all. Tonight, Bellamy waited until he was done getting ready for bed, not eager to see her leave.

“Hey, Clarke,” he said, shaking her awake.

She rolled out of bed with a groan and a yawn, stalking towards the door without fully opening her eyes. Bellamy let out a long breath and slid into his warm sheets, waiting.

He gave her a few minutes, not just because he was hoping she’d come back, but because it had been happening pretty often. Maybe every other time she left, she was back in his arms before he had even attempted to start sleeping.

He really didn’t mind. Really.

The feel of her in his arms, the sweet smell of her hair right under his nose, the grumpy noises she made in the morning when her alarm went off too goddamn early for any sane person— yeah, Bellamy didn’t mind.

He turned towards the door as she opened it, slipping into the dark room.

“Again?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke nodded.

“You know,” he said, as she climbed into bed with him. He tried to sound casual, and she looked at him curiously. “You could just stay here next time, if you wanted.”

Clarke’s eyes searched his face and he looked away. “I could?”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Bellamy shrugged, thankful she couldn’t see his blush in the dim light. “It seems silly to wake you up when you end up back here half the time anyways.”

“Hmm,” Clarke said. Bellamy waited, feeling doubt start to creep in, but Clarke just rolled over, pressing her back against his chest. He felt his breath hitch. “Okay, sounds good to me.”

Bellamy smiled, tucking one arm hesitantly around her stomach. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Clarke clasped onto it, pulling the arm tighter across her.

His thumb started to rub slow circles into her skin and he stared at her in the quiet dark of his room, her hair glinting gold in front of him with what little light shone through his blinds from the street. God, she was so fucking beautiful. So—

Clarke whined, twisting in his arms. “Stop thinking so loud, I’m trying to sleep.”

Bellamy let out a low huff of a chuckle and relaxed into the pillows, closing his eyes.

****

If there was any punishment more exquisite than having her close enough to touch but not being able to, it was having her in his arms half the week and still not being able to do anything more.

Bellamy was not one of those guys who believed in the friendzone, or thought that women owed men sex, but holy shit was he in over his head. Blue balls, while not a valid reason to try and get a girl to fuck you, were quickly becoming Bellamy’s constant companion. And he fucking welcomed them; so long as it meant he got to keep sleeping with Clarke in his arms, waking up with her hair in his face and her head on his pillow and his blankets wrapped more around her than around him.

So Bellamy was definitively not allowed to fuck her, and that was fine. He’d never push her, or even ask her, because it would be so fucking inappropriate; but fuck if he didn’t feel like he was getting mixed signals.

One of the signals was that Clarke was literally sleeping in his bed, draped all over him, running her hands over his body, and the other was that Clarke was literally sleeping in his bed, draped all over him, running her hands over his body and had not even tried to kiss him, so clearly she wasn’t interested.

He could live with it, he guessed. He certainly wasn’t going to mess around with anyone else, so it was a moot point. Regardless, he welcomed her into his bed and his arms every time she came, and wouldn’t fucking dream of having it any other way.

Bellamy was no stranger to self-control. He had plenty of it, and he wasn’t going to let his dick fuck this up for him.

In the end though, he probably didn’t need to have spent so much time fretting about it. Turns out the —in hindsight, very obvious-seeming— signals of Clarke literally sleeping in his bed, draped all over him, running her hands over his body; did in fact correlate to her wants and desires.

“You know,” Clarke said one night, as they lay face to face, bodies curled towards each other. “It’s not against the rules for an RA to have sex with someone on their hall. I looked it up a while ago.”

Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh?”

“Discouraged, but not banned.” Clarke shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “In case you were wondering.”

In case he was—oh, he’d been wondering alright. Dreaming even. Bellamy hadn’t dared to pull out the handbook and check, in case there was anything explicitly telling him not to let her sleep over, let alone fuck him. So that was a revelation.

A fucking miracle, really. And for Clarke to be the one to have brought it up, that meant—

“Huh,” he said, throat dry. “And were you? Wondering, I mean.”

“I may have been.”

Bellamy swallowed hard. “And now?”

Clarke hummed noncommittally. “Could be.”

“Huh,” he said again, dumbstruck. “Good to know.”

Clarke looked back at him, biting her lip. He tried to formulate a response, but drew a hard blank, all his blood currently occupied with other tasks than making sure his brain could generate a coherent reply.

When nothing came out of his mouth, Clarke groaned, rolling away from him. “Sorry, that was dumb, I should—”

Bellamy grabbed her wrist as she tried to climb out of the bed. “Wait, just— just give me a second, okay?”

Clarke conceded, relaxing into the bed. She waited, watching as Bellamy’s mind struggled to catch up.

“Huh,” he said eventually, and his head jerked in a short nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Clarke asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay,” he agreed, and pulled her into his lap.

Clarke moaned as their mouths met in a crushing kiss, and his tongue danced over hers, tracing her bottom lip. They kissed like it was an argument, battling for dominance, hands fisting in each other’s hair, pulling each other close enough to climb into their skin.

“Can’t fucking believe you,” Bellamy groaned, his lips tracing a hot line done the curve of Clarke’s jaw. She gasped as his mouth closed around the hollow of her throat, sucking hard at the soft skin. It would leave a mark, he knew. He wanted it to leave a mark so badly. “So fucking perfect.”

“Shut up,” Clarke breathed, taking his hands and sliding them beneath the fabric of her tank top. Her tiny fucking tank top. Her tiny, white, see-through fucking tank top. “Shut up and touch me.”

Bellamy practically growled, pushing up her tank top (that fucking tank top) and pulling it over her head. He stared at her bare skin in the low light of his room, just as creamy and smooth as he’d imagined, as he’d been imagining since the very first time she’d come to his room.

She helped him slide down her shorts and panties, wriggling eagerly out of them. He wrapped his hands around her waist, eyes darkening as he noticed how much of her skin he could cover, fingers spanning across the breadth of her abdomen.

Clarke wasn’t tiny or delicate or fragile, but she was soft and petite, and fuck if he didn’t get some sick pleasure out of that, out of knowing he could just cover her up with his own body.

Her nails raked down his chest, grazing over his nipples, and his hips jerked under her, thrusting his covered cock up against her center. Clarke moaned, grinding down on him, her pussy soaking through his pants.

Bellamy swore and flipped them, holding himself over her. His head dipped to kiss her mouth hard before trailing down her body, mouthing at the bare skin. She writhed and he caught her hips, holding her down as his tongue slipped down from her navel, across her bare mound.

Clarke keened as his lips closed around her clit. Bellamy release her hips, one hand moving to span over her belly, keeping her pelvis pressed into the mattress. He stroked through her folds with the other, wetting his fingers before pressing them into her hot cunt.

She sighed as he worked her open, stretching her to take his cock. He wanted to fuck her so hard she’d feel it for days, wanted to take her gently and slowly like the precious thing she was, wanted to make her come until she passed out, wanted to stroke her sweetly until she broke with his name on her lips. He wanted everything and anything, so long as it was Clarke.

(Fucked! He was good and truly fucked!)

Bellamy lapped at her clit, fucking her on his fingers until she came with a shudder. He slid up her body, pressing kisses as he went. Her hands tangled in his hair as he came closer, and she pulled his face to hers tasting herself on his lips.

Clarke’s legs wrapped around his hips, and she used them to tugged down his sleep pants. Bellamy laughed into her mouth and pulled back, catching the grin on her face.

“So eager,” he said, and kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way himself. Clarke tried to pull him towards her, but he was resisted, brain holding on to just the slightest sliver of lucid decision making.

“Condom?” Bellamy asked. He had been tested since the last time he’d had sex (approximately a million years ago, although he may not have been remembering correctly), and frankly, he wanted to fuck her raw, but he didn’t know what Clarke’s opinion on that would be.

She bit her lip. “If this—us, having sex—is going to be a thing, and you’ve been tested, then I’m clean and on birth control; but if we’re gonna fuck other people—”

Bellamy pulled back, his lips twisting in a frown. “Are we?”

Her eyes met his, unblinking, assessing his meaning. “I don’t want to.”

“Good,” Bellamy said, giving her a feral grin. His lips found her neck, sucking hard on the column of her throat as she moaned. “I don’t want to either.”

Clarke’s feet hooked around his ass again, pulling him closer, and he let her this time. They both groaned as his cock slipped down the length of her slit. One of her hands slid between them, positioning the head of his cock right at her entrance.

Bellamy looked down at her, a question in his eyes. Clarke nodded.

He thrust himself in to the hilt, stopping only once he’d bottomed out inside her wet cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his lips right against her ear. Her hand tangled in his curls. Bellamy slid out and back in once, testing the angle. “So fucking tight.”

Clarke panted in his ear, eyes clenched tight. “Just fuck me, please.”

He laughed and pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss. “Alright, Princess.”

His cock pounded into her heat, her walls gripping at him deliciously. He knew she’d be fucking perfect, just knew it, and yet somehow this was even better.

Clarke’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, knees hooked up over his hips. She urged him faster deeper, her pelvis tilting to take his cock all the way, meeting his thrusts with her own.

Clarke cried out as Bellamy’s cock hit a certain spot inside her and his hips stuttered, looking down at her in wonder. Purposefully, he drove into her, striking the same place over and over until she was shaking, her pussy fluttering around him.

With a growl, he reached a hand down to rub her clit, thrusting his cock at the same time. He wanted her to come again, needed her to. Bellamy was close, feeling the beginnings of his orgasm start to pull at him, and he worked her faster until she broke around him.

Feeling her cunt spasm, clenching around his cock, he groaned. His hips stuttered out a broken rhythm as her orgasm pulled him over, and he slammed into the hilt one last time as he came, spilling deep inside her her with a groan.

He lay heavy on top of her, nearly boneless for a long moment until she poked him in the side.

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathed, and rolled off her, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Sorry.”

Clarke turned to face him, head propped up on one hand, leaning on her elbow. She grinned, watching as he panted.

“Good?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bellamy let out a huff of a laugh, peeking out at her from below his arm. A smile teased as the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

She breathed a satisfied sigh as his arm reached out, pulling her against him. “God, you’re sweaty.”

He smiled, wiping a thumb over her own sticky brow. “Pot calling the kettle black, Princess.”

Clarke pressed her lips against his skin fondly. “I will compromise and say we're both sweaty.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Compromise accepted.”

They lay there, wrapped up in each other, letting their heartbeats slow back to normal. Bellamy’s sweat damp skin started to cool, and he dragged the sheets up over them.

“So,” Clarke said, her voice muffled against his chest. “To clarify, that wasn’t another ‘just this once’ thing, right?”

His arm tighten around her waist, mouth pressing a kiss into her gold curls. “Definitely not.”

****

Her visits became more frequent, from three times a week, to four, to six, to every night. Bellamy didn’t mind, obviously. He wouldn’t have minded even if they weren’t fucking, which they were.

Only fucking, that is.

Yeah, she still slept over, and yeah, he still got to stare at her longingly in the mornings, but something about the lack of romance was starting to get to him, to bother him for some reason.

Probably because he was in love with her. (Or, you know, fucked.)

He was terrified that it would stop, even with the increasing frequency; that one day she’d find someone to actually date, and not just her RA whose room she spent every night in because her roommate was apparently a sexual maniac, which was not something he wanted to be thinking about at all.

But it seemed like she liked him, it really did. Obviously she liked him enough to fuck him—and only him, thank god for small mercies—at least, and with astounding regularity. That might be enough.

Or not, but he was going to keep lying to himself anyways.

He woke up one Sunday with her in his arms, her ass pressed back against a rapidly growing erection. He bit back a low groan as she shifted, trying not to wake her, but realized soon that the shifting was more of an active grind.

One eye popped open. “Clarke?”

She grinned, pushing back more insistently. His hand came down hard on her hip and he didn’t hold back the sound this time.

Bellamy’s lips found her neck, sucking and nipping at the soft skin there as her hands reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God, you’re a fucking menace,” Bellamy breathed, as he slotted his cock between her legs. Clarke parted them to allow him easier access.

“You like it,” she responded, and gasped as he answered her with a slow thrust. Bellamy let out a low chuckle, brushing her hair back from her face.

His teeth nibbled at the skin where her shoulder met her neck as he fucked her lazily. He brought one hand around her front to play with her clit, circling with varying pressure until she was jerking and shuddering against him.

Bellamy fucked her through her orgasm, pounding into her from behind, their bodies spooned together, skin sticking to each other with sweat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as his hips began to lose their rhythm. His hand wrapped around her stomach, dragging her closer to him. “Could do this every fucking morning; you’re so good.”

Clarke let out a low moan and it sent him over, thrusting his cock into her hard as he came. Bellamy lay there for a moment, pressed up against her back, catching his breath, before rolling back. Clarke turned in his arms, landing with her head on his chest.

She tilted her chin to face him, watching with a smile as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Every morning, huh? We might be able to arrange that.”

Bellamy lay back on the pillows, one hand tucked behind his head. The fingers of his other hand toyed with a curl around Clarke’s face.

He considered their arrangement, and the frequency with which she ended up in his arms, and on his cock. It was probably too much for him to be able to keep dismissing it as convenience, and frankly, he didn’t want to.

Bellamy wanted Clarke to want to be there, to want to be with him, just like he wanted to be with her.

“Is my sister really sexiling you every night?”

Clarke blushed, and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I stopped checking a while ago.”

He’d never heard such a beautiful admission. Bellamy let out a low chuckle. “You fiend. And I just walked right into your trap. Your poor, trusting RA, just trying to help his students.”

She gave him an innocent look, batting her eyelashes. “Who said it was a trap?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, not believing her for an instant. She winked playfully, and settled her head back against his chest.

“Okay, so maybe it was a little bit of a trap,” Clarke admitted, tracing her fingers across her bare chest, “But I told you, it’s not technically against the rules.”

Bellamy smiled and kept stroking his hands through her hair, wrapping a small gold curl around his fingers.

“So,” he asked conversationally, tugging on the lock of hair. His stomach swooped in anticipation, nervous to take the leap he so deeply wanted. Clarke looked up at him, amused. “Did those rules say anything about an RA dating someone on their hall?”

Clarke’s mouth fell open and she blinked rapidly. “Definitely allowed. Actually, strongly encouraged.”

“Interesting.” Bellamy smiled at her, his heart booming joyously in his ears. “And when did you look all this up?”

“Hmmm.” Clarke bit her lip shyly, looking up in thought as she considered the question. “Maybe four days into the school year?”

That was— fuck. All this goddamn time he’d wasted.

Bellamy groaned, pulling her over his hips so she straddled him. Clarke laughed, resting her palms against the skin of his chest. His fingers traced a pattern over her hipbone. “Took you four whole days, huh?”

Clarke shrugged, a grin pulling at her cheeks. “You were kind of a jerk during move-in. I didn’t like you at first.”

Bellamy smirked, bucking his hips so his cock slid through her folds, still slick and warm from their previous activities. Clarke moaned, throwing her head back and grinding down against him. “And now?”

Clarke’s mouth twisted playfully, lips pursed. “Not sure,” she said, and looked down at him, a glint in her eyes. “Maybe you should remind me.”

Bellamy let out an exaggerated sigh.

“If I must,” he huffed, and flipped her. Clarke squealed as her ass bounced against the bed. Bellamy leaned over her, caging her in with his arms. “You’re very needy, you know.”

“You like it,” Clarke insisted. She trailed her fingers over his abs, smirking as he shuddered.

Bellamy leaned down and dropped a light kiss onto her lips. “I do,” he admitted. “I really do.”

She twisted her hands in his hair, pulling him down for another searing kiss. “Good, we’re in agreement then.”

Bellamy shook his head fondly, grinning. “So,” he asked, looking down at her. Their eyes met, blue on brown, and he felt something wonderful bloom warm and soft in his chest. “A date?”

Clarke smiled, hooking her feet around his ass and pulling him closer, so his cock nestled against her heat.

“Next time?” she suggested lightly.

Bellamy groaned, and nodded. “Next time.”

(Oh, yeah. He was fucked.)

“Seriously though— four days?”

“…Maybe three.”

(But then again, maybe she was, too.)

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #bellamy blake #bellarke #clarke griffin #The 100 #smut #fluff

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sadaboutniall · 4 years

Photo

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Six. November, 2008.

A week and a half into November, the calm, cozy, comforts of autumn in Mullingar begin to give way to winter. The weather bites more every day as the temperature falls, the wind picks up, and the nights stretch longer and longer. People are beginning to talk about Christmas—mam has already called to ask if he and Greg are going to come over on the 24th or the 25th, and at least one store in town has put up their lights already, even though Mullingar’s official tree lighting ceremony isn’t until the first weekend of December.

Still, autumn clings on. Niall can smell it in the air when he leaves school on a Tuesday afternoon, backpack slung over one shoulder, chilly air flooding his lungs. His cheeks flush from the cold almost as soon as he steps outside, a bright red to match the color of the few leaves that still linger on the trees. The school yards are golden in that way only autumn brings—cold but still lively, bursting with color and excitement before winter zaps it all away.

Mully’s with Emilia but Niall’s taken to enjoying his walks home alone these days. Sometimes he listens to his iPod, imagining himself singing Viva La Vida on stage, or Hotel California. Other times, he just lets his mind wander—thinks about the songs he’s writing, the places he’d like to travel to, the people he’d like to meet. It gives him time to feel like he’s anywhere but Mullingar—like his life is one that’ll make an impression on the world beyond his tiny hometown, beyond the streets and the skies and the stone walls he knows so well.

Most days, he doesn’t see many people along his route, which is why he’s surprised, that Tuesday, to turn the corner and see a familiar figure a few feet ahead of him. She’s walking with her head down against the wind and her hands deep in her pockets and Niall doesn’t really have control over his inhibitions, it’s almost automatic for him to call out, ‘Isla! Hey!’

She turns around, wind whipping her hair backwards into her face and it’s like a shot from a music video or a rom-com, one of those moments where everything slows down and the only thing in focus is the person the main character is falling in love with. Isla tucks her hair behind her ear as her eyes light up, autumn sunlight glinting against brown irises, and she waves her other hand in greeting.

Niall picks up into a slight jog and Isla waits for him to catch up to her, her smile soft and sweet, her dimples prominent. Once he’s at her side he slows down, and they fall into step with each other as Niall catches his breath.

‘Where are you headed?’ He asks, as soon as he can speak without breathing too heavy.

‘I’m babysitting today,’ Isla looks over at Niall, still smiling. ‘The O’Hagan’s little boy, Aiden.’

‘You babysit for the O’Hagans? They’re right around the corner from me,’ Niall can’t put his finger on why it feels so weird not to know that Isla’s been spending time so close to him.

Isla hums a response, a pretty sound that makes Niall think about writing a song. It would be gorgeous, he thinks, the sound of her hum layered under his singing voice. Isla carries on, ‘usually in the evenings and sometimes on Saturdays, but they need me this afternoon, too. Aiden’s a sweetie, and it’s good money.’

‘For sure,’ Niall nods, hitching his backup up as it starts to slide down his shoulder. ‘You can head into Dublin and go shopping, like.’

‘I could, yeah. Been saving it, though,’ Isla hesitates for a minute, like she’s nervous. Niall’s quiet, and then she carries on. ‘I know it’s stupid and so far away but if I want to be able to go to uni in London… I mean, I don’t know if I’d get in or anything, but I need to have money saved up for a flat and stuff.’

‘London?’ Niall feels shaky at the idea of Isla so far away. At the idea of Mullingar without her. At the idea of her getting out of this place before him. Niall knows his uni prospects aren’t great, and, without a miracle, there’s no way he’d be able to afford to move to London. He’s trapped here for the rest of his life, the way his whole family has been for generations. It’s an idea he’s never been fond of—but it feels so much worse without the thought of Isla by his side.

‘I know it’s stupid,’ Isla says again. ‘But I’ve already saved almost 400 euro from babysitting and birthday money. Plus my communion money, which my parents put away for uni, too. If I actually manage to get an acceptance anywhere… I think I can afford to do it.’

‘It’s not stupid,’ Niall rushes to say. ‘And neither are you, Isla. There are millions of unis in London, you’ll definitely get in somewhere.’

Isla’s quiet for a few moments and they keep walking together, their shoes crunching over fallen leaves, Isla’s uniform skirt fluttering in the chilly wind. Niall’s eye catches on the flash of skin just above her knee and it hits him that she’s worn her knee high socks today instead of the tights girls usually wear when it gets cold. He lets his eyes trail up her body, slowly, and he lands on the way her arms are crossed over her chest tightly, her lips pressed together from the cold. Something tightens in his stomach.

‘Are you cold?’ He asks, although the answer is obvious. He realizes it now: the apples of her cheeks are flushed pink and she’s shivering a little, only wearing her school sweater. He can’t believe he’d been so oblivious.

‘It’s okay,’ Isla tightens her arms around herself. ‘I overslept this morning and I was rushing. Couldn’t find my stockings and I forgot my fecking coat. Bit of an eejit when I’m tired, really.’

‘You’re fucking freezing,’ Niall doesn’t let himself hesitate. He stops walking and drops his book bag to the ground before pulling his grey Derby jumper off over his head. Now he’s in just his school sweater, but he doesn’t mind. ‘Isla, it’s like 8 degrees out. Here.’

‘No, what, Niall,’ she shakes her head, but Niall can tell she’s freezing. She’s staring at his jumper, practically shaking. ‘Now you’ve got nothing.’

‘I’m a lad. Lads run warmer than girls, here, take it. Plus, if you catch a cold out here then Aiden will catch one too.’

Isla hesitates, but when she reaches out to take the sweatshirt her hands are shaking, practically purple from the cold. In his chest, Niall’s heart pangs pathetically as he watches her slide into his clothes. She looks like something Niall’s seen in his dreams.

Niall’s so skinny that his hoodie actually looks a little snug on Isla, but she’s grateful nonetheless, and Niall can’t help his fluttering stomach when she tucks her chin against her shoulder to hide a shy smile. He wants to see her like this all the time: in his clothes, in front of everyone. Or, he thinks, a sudden flash of something embarrassing in the pit of his belly, just for him, tangled in the sheets of his twin-sized bed, just his sweatshirt, nothing else. He feels bad thinking about her like that, shakes the idea away as quickly as he can.

Isla asks about his plans for the evening and he tells her about how he’s part of the starting squad for Friday’s football match, for the very first time. They talk football as they walk: Isla about Arsenal, Niall about Derby, and she teases him, bangs her shoulder against his as they joke, tilts her head to give him smiles that make his chest warm and his stomach stir. He hardly even notices when they round the corner to the O’Hagans, doesn’t put two and two together until Isla puts her backpack down to take off his jumper.

‘No, no,’ Niall stops her, hand coming out to rest on her arm. They both still, wide eyes, shaking hands. ‘Keep it. You can give it back to me tomorrow.’

‘Niall.’

‘It’s fine, Isla. You’re cold, and Aiden’s gonna want to go to the park, probably. I’ve got a million more jumpers at home.’ He means it, the logical reasoning—but he also likes the thought of her in it, even when she’s not with him.

‘Thank you,’ she says, quiet. Now that he’s standing still, Niall realizes how much the temperature dropped while they were walking. He can see Isla’s breath as she talks. ‘The, uh. The uni I want to go to in London… it’s King’s College. Their law program.’

‘Shit,’ Niall lets out a low whistle. ‘That’s brilliant, Isla.’

‘I don’t know if I’ll get in,’ she says again, and it makes Niall want to scream. ‘I just… I haven’t said that aloud to anybody yet. Not even my mam and dad. I just… just wanted to say it. To someone.’

‘You can say anything to me,’ Niall’s freezing, but he doesn’t dare move. ‘Anything.’

Isla presses her lips together and then opens her mouth. She takes two deep breaths, eyes locked on Niall and he can feel it, can almost hear what she’s about to say—what he so badly wants her to say. He thinks he could throw up from how badly he wants it, from how close they both are to it.

A gust of wind blows Isla’s hair back into her face and Niall doesn’t stop himself this time. He reaches out gently, tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. It’s soft and sweet and he lets his fingers trail down gently, his thumb tracing the outer shell of her ear. Isla’s hand, freezing cold and shaking, grasps Niall’s wrist and they stay like that for a quiet minute, the sun setting around them, eyes locked on each other.

‘I know,’ is what Isla says eventually. It’s so quiet, just for him. ‘I know I can. Thank you.’

And then she drops her hand. And he does too. And Niall is frozen to the ground as he watches her pick her bookbag back up, throw it over her shoulder, and turn to walk up the path to the O’Hagan’s. When she reaches the front door she turns back around one last time, a soft smile, a sweet wave, and then she lets herself inside and Niall’s still there, freezing and on fire, his heart battering against his ribs like it’s never done before.

####

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#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #something about you #we're almost there lads!!

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retroateez · 4 years

Text

Prophecy - Chapter Eleven

Prophecy Masterlist wc;3197

Three days had passed in Wooyoung's company.

And you had to admit, your affections for the Elven mage were growing. Quickly.

The past evenings had consisted mainly of Wooyoung and Yeosang plotting in the tower, while you sat idley by and attempted to help to no avail. It was really beginning to frustrate you now; how the mage would constantly remind you how it was your fault, yet he wouldn't let you help them.

They had both insisted it was 'too dangerous for a young girl to get involved in', as if anything about your lifestyle was remotely safe.

You had argued with Yeosang on the second evening, demanding that they let you get involved, that you might be able to provide something useful. But they had once again dismissed you, telling you that even if they did tell you, you wouldn't understand it anyway.

So you spent your evenings outside, plucking flowers and knotting them together until the sun disappears and the petals become as dark as Wooyoung's hair.

You sigh and throw yourself back down onto the grass, exhaling heavily in irritation.

All you wanted to do was help, to suggest something that could be important. And the fact they won't let you just because you're a girl was ridiculous. If they blamed it on the fact they were more educated on the stars or whatever, you'd probably understand more. But because you're not a male?

Ludicrous.

You lay there, staring up at the sky and stewing in your emotions until finally, your aggravation finally gets the best of you, and you fly upright, charging up the stairs of the tower and bursting into Wooyoung's room, where you find the mage and the astrologer deep in discussion.

"I want to help." you declare, hands on your hips as you watch Yeosang roll his eyes at you.

"Iris, we told yo-"

"I don't care, Yeosang." you snap, Wooyoung's eyes widening a little in shock. "I'm tired of you pushing me aside! I want to help you. Isn't this my fault in the first place?"

"Well yes bu-"

"Then let me help, for goodness sake!"

Yeosang stands frozen, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Were you really that mad at him?

"Okay, fine. You can help." Wooyoung shrugs.

"Wooy-"

"What? She wants to help, let her help."

Wooyoung motions you over to the table littered with parchments, while Yeosang recovers from being interrupted once again. If the mage had known how adamant you were on assisting them, he would've let you.

He had promised himself, the day he found you half-dead on the beach and decided to take you under his wing, that he would do his best to protect you, even if it killed him. He simply couldn't live with himself if he had yet more blood on his hands. But he knew that you were a force to be reckoned with, determined as you were stubborn. Maybe keeping you in the dark would have worse concequences than letting you help.

Yeosang joins the two of you at the table, opting to stay silent as Wooyoung gathers together the diagrams and papers they had been deciphering for hours.

"Yeosang and I have been studying all relevant constellations from the important dates noted in the prophecy," Wooyoung begins, his serious expression constrasted by the way his amethyst eyes light up with passion whenever he talks about the stars. "And the first mentioned date, many, many moons ago, is the first time the Monster in the prophecy attempts to destroy the kingdom."

"Monster?" you echo. "I thought it was just a man?"

"The writings describe him in many ways; monster, beast, man." Yeosang explains. "There's hardly a difference between them."

"Constellation wise," the elf continues. "the single most prevalent form is that of Ara. You are familiar, yes?"

Wooyoung takes your wide-eyed silence in the negative.

"Ara is a constellation named after the altar where the gods formed an alliance before entering war with the Titans."

"Okay.." you trail off, not quite sure how that relates to any of your situation. "And what does that mean for us?"

Wooyoung bites his lip, glancing towards Yeosang before settling his gaze back on you.

"It could possibly indicate a war between Ateez and another kingdom. For what reason, I'm yet to discover."

"A war!?" you shriek, and both Yeosang and Wooyoung place a hand on each of your shoulders to calm you down.

"It's not certain!" Wooyoung tries to reassure you, but he falls on deaf ears.

"I can't fight in a war!" you cry. "I don't know any combat, I don't know any magic! I'm going to die!"

Yeosang grabs you tightly at arms length, leaning down a little to match your line of sight.

"You won't die in a war, Iris!" Yeosang explodes, ignoring the concern on the elven man's face. "We won't let you, I won't let you. Understand?"

You nod, Yeosang's direct (and slightly harshly toned) claim settling your nerves for the time being. Perhaps it's time to pester him again about teaching you some magic.

Yeosang redirects your attention back to the astrologer, who is holding a new set of pictures and messy scrawlings.

"The second constellation I noted was that of Cetus, which was present on a different occasion where the monsterous being turned up to wreak havoc on Ateez. Cetus was also present recently, specifically on the date where you washed up on Yeosang's beach after a nasty storm."

"And what does Cetus have to do with the storm?" you ask.

"In mythology, Cetus was some kind of sea monster," Wooyoung explains, and you have to hide your awe at how much knowledge one person could have. "Typically described as a serpent, whale, shark, what-have-you, Cetus was sent by Poseidon to punish Queen Cassiopeia and her daughter Andromeda for boasting that they were far more beautiful than the Nereids, or sea nymphs."

"So, we think there's a high chance that a sea monster of our own was released during the storm we had not so long ago." Yeosang informs you, you heart sinking as the danger only rises.

"A war and a sea monster?" your voice increases in pitch, your panic once again growing rapidly.

"The monster is probably dead," Wooyoung reasons. "The storm threw you about as it was, it's a miracle you survived, to be honest."

Not wanting to dwell on the fact the astrologer just told you that you shouldn't be alive, you ask him if there's any other constellations of any significance.

"On the same day as the storm, not far from Cetus, I just managed to make out the faintest Libra, just to the north of it. As a result, I took a look at when Libra is next supposed to shine the brightest, and it's predicted to be relatively soon. Within the next month or so."

"That's great," you reply sarcastically. "But what does Libra mean? We aren't all star experts, you know."

Wooyoung blushes deeply, crimson burning his ears as he smiles sheepishly at you.

"Libra represents the scales held by Dike (dai-ki), the goddess of justice and moral order. It could indicate some injustice that will occur between then and now, or something similar. Of course, none of this is absolutely guranteed," Wooyoung reminds you. "I simply read the stars, take their meaning and theorise about what they may mean to us."

"Well, your theories seem pretty realistic to me." you mutter mockingly. "I'm not buying any of this nonsense."

"I haven't been wrong about a single hypothesis yet." Wooyoung's tone turns cold, and his gaze on you narrows. He understands that this might be overwhelming, but it doesn't give you the right to insult his life's work. He devotes every waking moment to this, and he will not let some girl diminish everything he's built up. And sure, he's beginning to warm up to you, finding the way you gently pluck the flowers in his garden and fashion jewellery out of them rather endearing. He'd never admit that to you, or to himself, but slandering the only constant in his life? He won't allow it.

"Besides," he adds on. "You insisted on getting involved, so show some respect, or get out of my house." Wooyoung snarls, violet eyes radiating venomously as he glowers angrily at you.

You shift your stare down to the ground, guilt and embarrasment washing over you like a harsh ocean wave.

"I'm sorry." you squeak, not daring to look up into his piercing, purple eyes.

"I also decided to check the constellations from the night you both arrived." Wooyoung says tightly, dismissing your brief argument and continuing on as smoothly as he good. "The only one that stood out to me was Ursa Major, although I am still unsure of what it means, if anything at all."

"What's Ursa Major?" you question.

"The Big Bear," the astrologer answers immediately. "I doubt either of you are secretly bears, so I'm assuming it has zero relevance."

"I heard a bear at the inn we stayed at the night before we arrived here." You blurt out hurridly, not catching the way Yeosang's eyes roll back into this skull. "Then I dreamt that the bear was attacked... I was worried he died."

"And I told you it was exactly that," Yeosang interrupts you with a huff. "A dream."

Wooyoung glances between the two of you, pouting and scratching the pointed tip of his ear in thought.

"Have you ever considered visiting an oneiromancer?" Wooyoung asks seriously, breaking the silence and causing Yeosang to scoff.

"Oneiromancy is a myth," the mage scowls. "Just a bunch of made-up bullshit in an attempt to earn some coin."

"Is anybody going to explain to me what ironmancy is?" you speak up, crossing your arms in annoyance; why do they always have to talk about subjects you don't understand?

"Oneiromancy (on-eye-ro-man-see)," Wooyoung corrects your pronounciation, stifling a small smile. "Is a form of divination using dreams to predict the future. The divination I do uses the stars, Oneiromancers interpret your dreams."

"So, my dream might actually come true?" you gasp, your eyes flying wide open.

"No." Yeosang growls.

"What's your beef with dream interpreters?" The elf teases the mage, who is leering at him with irritance.

"Nothing." Yeosang replies sternly. "I just think it's a bunch of bullshit."

"One could say the same about your strange plant addiction."

"It's not an addiction! I require an extremely extensive knowledge in order to carry on my work!"

"That sounds like something somebody with an addiction to plants would say."

"Listen here, elf-"

"Uh, guys? I hate to break up your lover's quarrel but... who are they?" you put their arguing to an abrupt halt, collecting their attention to where you're standing before the giant window in Wooyoung's tower.

There's a faint glow, just over the hills behind the astrologer's home. It burns a radiant orange, and all three of you know that it's definitely not the sunset.

"Shit." Wooyoung curses aloud. "They found me."

"Who are they?"

"Bad people, Iris." Yeosang grabs you and yanks you away from the window, motioning to the paper strewn throughout the room. "Pick up what you can, we'll need almost all of it."

The next few minutes are spent frantically stuffing loose parchments into pockets, bags, anything the three of you can find that you can carry. You grab handfuls of diagrams and shove them into the pockets of your trousers, even rolling a few up and tucking them into the soles of your boots.

By the time you've gathered as much of the work you can, you quickly glance out the window to scope out where the bad people are. Every single one of your organs drops to the floor, as you notice the gang of torch-wielders are marching up Wooyoung's front garden, trampling and burning the flowers and ferns you played in just hours before.

"We need to leave. Now."

You quickly scan the room, eyes darting left and right to try and spot something you might've missed. You see it abandoned on Wooyoung's bed, and you dart out rapidly to retrieve it. Clutching it against your chest, you hear the thunderous stamping of the mob charging up the stairs, mirroring the pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

Yeosang bundles you and Wooyoung in his arms, gripping you both tightly as he breathes in deeply. Your nose is pressed against the elf's chest, and in any other situation you would be blushing furiously. But right now, you're terrified for your life. For Yeosang's life, for Wooyoung's life. And in any other situation you would've slapped the elf for the way his arm winds around your waist to shuffle you into their man-made cage. But ironically, you feel safer than you've ever felt in your entire life.

"Close your eyes," Yeosang mumbles. "It's gonna be a harsh landing."

You and Wooyoung screw your eyes shut tightly, and you bunch his shirt up in your hands so there's zero chance of you getting separated.

There's no human words you can summon to describe how it feels to teleport. Both feeling as light a feather, but also feeling like iron weights have been fused to your ankles. You're both present and absent at the same time. Simultaneously existing, yet one inch, one misstep away from disappearing forever. It both passes in a second, and drags on for eternity. Your mere consciousness physically cannot comprehend such an experience.

What you can describe however, is the instant pain that shoots through your body upon impact. Yeosang's teleportation hurling you onto the ground, your arm trapped behind you, bent at an awkward angle, while both you and your poor arm are crushed by Wooyoung's entire frame landing on top of you.

,You could describe it very well, given the chance, but you think a simple 'owch.' will suffice.

"Wooyoung," you grunt and attempt to push him off you using your free hand. "Get off me."

He apologises quickly, rolling onto the grass and standing up. He offers a hand out to you which you accept, brushing the dirt off your clothes. Looking around you, you realise you're in a very familiar garden.

"Hey, Yeosang! We're hom-"

The smell of burning smoke and the sound of crackling flames hits you all in one go, and you're scared to turn around.

"Oh my god..." You hear Wooyoung whisper behind you, and the dread weighs down on you like a tonne of bricks.

Slowly, you turn around and the sight before you twists your stomach into knots.

Yeosang's home- your home- is entirely consumed by raging fire. The blaze has crept up the trunk of the tree, destroying the heart of the house directly. The flames lick at the walls and have already destroyed the majority of the roof. You can see into Yeosang's study, the aqua flourescent room now glowing a fiery orange, plunging the once ocean-like room into the deepest depths of hell.

Yeosang himself is stood in front of you, just off to the side, and looking at his eyes you can see the inferno reflecting in his tears. You've never seen anyone so broken.

"Yeosang, I'm so sorry-" Wooyoung begins to apologise, but the mage cuts him off before he can finish.

"It wasn't them," he cries, voice hoarse and cracking with despair and rage. "It- It wasn't the same people after you."

"Then who was it?" you wonder quietly.

But neither Wooyoung or Yeosang get to answer your question, as the culprits make themselves known. Barreling through the woods surrounding the house, swords drawn, grinning evilly at you. They form a circle around you, forcing the three of your backs to collide as you're stood defenseless.

"Well, well, well." One of them sneers. "Look what the cat dragged in." He slowly walks around you, smirking smugly at the way he's trapped you all. He's got dark, black hair, almost as long as Wooyoung's but styled much more neatly. Parted in the middle and flowing down into soft waves. You'd compare him visually to an angel, but underneath his innocent exterior lies something much, much more sinister.

"What are you doing here, J-"

"Don't even think about speaking my name, mage." The man seethes. "Besides, it's Commander to you."

"Alright, Commander," Yeosang finds the energy within him to mock the stranger, and you can't help but giggle. "Why are you here?"

"You see, it has been brought to my attention that there was magic present in these neck of the woods," The stranger's grin widens wickedly, eyeing the way Yeosang's jaw tightens with fury. "And I'm sure you agree, that simply will not do."

"So your solution was to burn a man's house down?!" Wooyoung bursts angrily, flinching a little when the man's gaze burns into his own.

"Oh? What's this?" He approaches Wooyoung in a fascinated trance, tilting his head slightly as he examines the elven features. He places the tip of his sword against Wooyoung's jaw, exerting just enough pressure to force his head to the side and exposing pointed ears that were raging red in humiliation. "An elf?" His voice raises an octace from excitement, something that chills you to the bone.

"I can do so much worse than burn a man's house down." The stranger's previous, eerily calm demeanour is gone, as he dangerously leans in to Wooyoung's face, teeth gritted and black eyes pulsing with hatred. "Believe me."

You're trembling with fear, the panic running through you that this could be the end of the road for you. This unknown villian turning up out of the blue with his gang of stupid merry men might kill you right this very second and snap shut the book containing the story that is your life. This could be your destined demise.

Yeosang though, has other plans.

In your frightened inner rambling, you don't notice his hand tighten around yours from behind your back. And from your position you certainly don't notice the way brilliant white bolts flash around his pupils, or the yellow sparks that shoot through his arms and neck like lightning during a storm.

"I've had enough of indulging your questions." The stranger sniffs, backing away from Wooyoung with a final, repulsed leer.

"Boys," he meanders back over to where he climbed out of the thicket, holstering his sword at the hip and looking dead into your eyes with a bored expression. "Kill them."

The band of men (you guess there's around eleven of them, but with the anxiety settling in, you could be seeing double) close in on the three of you, like a pack of ravenous wolves stealthily hunting down a tiny, vulnerable rabbit.

You feel the wind rush past your face, the down-swing of a sharp sword being aimed at your face, but it doesn't make contact with you.

Instead, you're momentarily weightless, floating through the stars, the planets and the worlds between you and the furthest reaches of the galaxy.

In the same breath, you make contact with a hard, wooden floor, groaning in pain as the three of you land in a painful, crumpled heap. Nursing your head, you survey the room, jumping out of your skin when a shriek pierces your ears.

"How many times do I have to tell you people to knock?!"

Chapter Twelve

hello,, i just wanted to note that even though i did research for this, i’m nowhere near an expert so, if you happen to work at nasa or something and everything i’ve said is incorrect, no it isn’t <3

#ateez au #ateez #medieval!ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #mingi #san #yeosang #wooyoung #jongho #yunho #retroateez

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the-problem-of-leisure · 4 years

Text

Fear of the Water - ch 1

Fear of the Water - Annie & Finnick Origin Story

(ANNIE)

“Annie,” a voice says. There’s something pressing on my shoulder. “Annie, wake up.”

I try to hide my face behind my hair. “Nooooo,” I moan, drawing out the word.

“Come on. It’s reaping day.”

I crack my eyes open. My twin brother Bosun is standing over me. He’s bathed and dressed already. Must have been awake for hours. His strawberry hair is combed for once, but bags and purple shadows hang under his blue-green eyes. I wonder if he slept at all.

He forces a smile. “I don’t know how you sleep so late. I can never sleep at all before the Reaping.”

The only reason I’m able to is because I stole a sleeping draught from our aunt’s medicine cabinet. She doesn’t know, of course – she’d have one of her episodes. Probably threaten to send Bosun and me back to the community home. But we’re seventeen now, and we can work full time now that we’ve finished school, and I doubt she’d be willing to part with our salaries. But it also means we can live on our own. Bosun and I constantly promise ourselves that day will come soon, but people usually only move out of their family homes when they get married.

My cousins and I help each other into our dresses and comb one another’s hair. One must look their absolute best on Reaping Day in case one gets called up. Don’t want the sponsors’ first impression of you to be in swimming clothes.

Adrie ties my hair up in a ribbon as I braid Coraline’s hair from behind. Coraline is nearly eighteen; Adrie is fifteen. We all qualify for the reaping, and even though a girl named Coastia Is set to volunteer, we’re still nervous wrecks. Everybody is.

My aunt Chelsea looks us all over one more time to be sure we’re presentable.

We don’t bother with breakfast since none of us will be able to eat anything anyway. We walk toward the pavilion where the reaping is held in relative silence. I give Bosun’s hand a quick squeeze before he joins his friends on the boys’ side of the crowd.

“Dodge got his hands on a bottle of rum,” Bosun says to me. “When all this is over, we’ll get drunk and go for a swim. Okay?”

I lower my voice and try not to move my lips too much as I speak. “Do we have to bring the cousins?”

“God, no. They’d ruin it.” Bosun gives me a quick squeeze. “It’ll be you, me, Dodge, and Ondine. And Gill, I think. And maybe a couple of Dodge’s cousins, but they’ll bring their own liquor.”

“I hate most of Dodge’s cousins.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be drunk.” He goes off toward the boys’ side and I look around for Ondine. She’ll need somebody to hold her hand through all this, the awful memories it will drag up.

Ondine, who’s been with Bosun for as long as anybody can remember, is my best friend. Maybe my only proper friend – except for Dodge, I guess. Bosun’s the social one; as his twin, I can just insert myself into whatever relationships he has without putting in the work of getting to know someone and then his friends become mine.

Ondine’s sister Liffey was my proper best friend until she died of an infected cut on her arm in the arena last year. Ondine, already an orphan, is now totally alone except for Bosun, who she’ll probably marry in a few years.

“Annie!”

I turn at the sound of my name. “Ondine.”

Lithe, lovely Ondine rushes toward me and grabs my hands so hard that my knuckles crack. “Oh, I’m so glad I found you. I couldn’t stand to be alone for this.”

“Me neither.”

She talks when she’s anxious, so I’m prepared when she starts speaking a mile a minute. “We just have to remember that we’re nearly done. This is my last reaping, and you and Bosun will be done next year. And then we’ll all be safe.” Her throat bounces as she swallows back tears. “Right?”

I smile. “Right.”

She catches sight of a few of her friends and drags me over to them.

(FINNICK)

I sit with the other victors on the platform in the shade. Everybody else stands on the ground facing the stage, the sun shining directly into their eyes. They’ve probably all ruined their clothes with sweat by now.

An attendant comes around to us and offers to powder our faces so we don’t look “too damp.” Mags is the only one polite enough to say no; the rest of us just ignore the attendant altogether. I let her give me a light dusting.

Eefa is half-asleep, Mags has her hands folded in her lap, and Broadsea keeps itching his beard and occasionally baring his teeth at people who stare too long. Proteus hasn’t taken his seat yet; he’s chatting with the mayor and the harbormaster about spatchcocking, which I guess is a cooking thing since that’s his passion. Maybe ‘passion’ is too strong a word; Proteus is too apathetic to experience any strong urge or emotion. His hobby, perhaps, is a better description.

We sit in order of victory, which means that as the most recent victor, I’m at the end of the line. I’m stuck next to damn Broadsea, and, since I sit on his left, I’m stuck looking at the mangled side of his face from the corner of my eye.

Mags is the only one I get along with. She’s the only one I like and she’s one of the only people in the world who genuinely likes me. As our district’s first victor, she’s seated at the other end of the line.

The microphone at the front of the stage shrieks as our Capitol escort adjusts it. She’s gotten even more surgery done to disguise her age since last summer, but instead of looking younger she just looks strange. She gives the introductory speech reminding us why the Hunger Games exist and what an honor it is to be chosen.

Piers Brewre volunteers for the boys.

The Career is about average height, maybe a little taller, and well-built. His muscles don’t bulge out of his body the way other Careers’ sometimes do, but they’re just big enough to see that they’re there.

Most of our tributes are Careers; regular kids get called up about a third of the time. We don’t have as many Careers as 1 and 2, but it’s practical to have a few. Careers have a real shot at winning and they save someone else’s life by volunteering to compete. I’ve always wondered why other districts don’t have this practice. It would save them a lot of heartache.

Piers takes his spot on the stage and crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for his partner to be called.

Brae clears her throat. “Now for the girls!”

There’s confusion in the crowd. An eighteen-year-old girl named Coastia was set to volunteer this year. Most people don’t change their minds about volunteering, and those who do aren’t usually allowed to withdraw. Coastia must’ve bribed somebody to get out of it.

Someone angrily shouts “Coastia! What did you do?” and a girl of about eighteen that must be her shrinks to the back of the crowd. The other girls begin to cluster into little pockets, all holding hands and whispering to each other. Other people start to scream out all sorts of horrible things, and most of the girls begin to panic. They thought, at least this year, they were safe. Now the odds are their only protection.

Brae, our escort, prances over to the other bowl and reaches in. She accidentally grabs two, and takes her sweet time choosing which to keep and which to toss back with the others. She opens the slip of paper and clears her throat before reading, “Annie Cresta!”

After a few seconds, a girl emerges from the crowd. Flowing hair. Wide eyes. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. Visibly trembling. She stumbles a few times as she climbs the steps to the stage, anxiously wiping her sweaty palms on her blue dress. Her chin quivers from the strain of holding back tears. She’s going to lose the battle.

There’s a commotion near the front of the boys’ group. A boy says something and surges forward, but another boy, who I know to be the grandson of one of our other victors, catches him by the arm and pulls him back.

Brae smiles brightly. “Ladies and gentlemen of District Four, I present to you – your tributes!”

There’s plenty of mandatory clapping, then the tributes are led into the Justice Building. The Head Peacekeeper steps to the front of the stage and starts barking instructions. “Those of you wishing to bid farewell to the tributes, line up here in order of closest relation.”

Broadsea pulls a large bottle of liquor from a hidden pocket in his coat and takes a large drink. He wakes Eefa up to offer her some.

It’s the same every year. Eefa will stay in her rooms and avoid other people at all costs, Broadsea will be drunk or high or both, Proteus will be charming and ass-kissing Capitol citizens whenever possible, and Mags and I will try to keep a pair of children alive for as long as possible.

But I've already watched eight children die in pain and fear. Why should this year be any different?

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alanna-artroid · 4 years

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Cookies I Have From Cookie Run So Far! (And My Thoughts On Them)

Alright, I’ve gotten pretty far in Cookie Run: Oven Break, and I felt the need to share my thoughts on all the adorable cookies I’ve unlocked so far. So far, I have 50/100, so I’d say I’m making good progress. On to the list!

GingerBrave: The bravest boy. If this was a show, he’d clearly be the main character. I recently got him a little suit, so now he’s a gentleman!

GingerBright: Sweet little lady. She looks like she’d be nice to get a coffee with or help you with homework. I definitely ship her with Brave, no doubt about it.

Strawberry Cookie: Precious baby! She’s super shy and I am compelled to protect her at all costs. Her pet is also a Tamagotchi, so she must be a gamer! Sweet!

Skater Cookie: HE WAS A SK8TER BOI! SHE SAID SEE YA LATER BOI!

Zombie Cookie: This is one of the fastest zombies I’ve ever seen. They seem like a nice guy overall though.

Princess Cookie: Heck yes, a mischievous princess! Those are the best! I love her dress and hair bows. I bet she just pretends to get kidnapped for the lols.

Pilot Cookie: Is it just me, or is this little old man smaller than most of the other cookies? Whatever, he’s got a cute mustache and he’s adorable. Go and fly!

Vampire Cookie: As a vampire nerd, I immediately adored this guy. I will gladly give him grape juice and chill with him under the light of the moon.

Gumball Cookie: Is this was Splatoon is like? This boi has a lot of chaotic energy and I like him.

Pistachio Cookie: I love this warrior woman so dang much. Look at that minty green hair! Her power is also SUPER helpful. She a speedy knight!

Pancake Cookie: HE’S A FLYING SQUIRREL! HE’S TOO CUTE I CAN’T EVEN! LET ME HUG THIS TINY CHILD!!!

Peppermint Cookie: Sweet baby. Good baby. My mom would probably adore this baby. (She loves mint and she’s not even a big sweets person.)

Muscle Cookie: As a lesbian, I’m not into big abs and muscles, but he’d probably be a good gym partner. Don’t mess with him is all I can say.

Cherry Cookie: Little Red Riding Hood got some bombs! I hope she and Gumball can go cause chaos on the weekends.

Hero Cookie: Precious nerdy boi with science! I saw his Island of Memories intro and his bond with Jellyco Cube is just the sweetest thing! Follow your superhero dreams, my baby!

Fairy Cookie: I didn’t know Tinkerbell was in this game! Also, I got her a bee costume and that looks super cute on her. Love her hair bun.

Werewolf Cookie: ULTIMATE FLOOF! Doggo here has a lot of angst and I worry for him. Maybe Vampire Cookie can teach him to chill? That’d be nice.

Rockstar Cookie: Oh, the songs I could sing right here. High tier rocker boy. Loving that flowing white hair. Rock on, buddy!

Soda Cookie: Go-to starter for my Breakout runs. I love him very much, he’s super cute! Let me go to the beach with this righteous dude!

Dark Enchantress Cookie: Oooooh, she is GORGEOUS!!! I love her design~! I’ll be sure to invite her to any fancy balls I might have, as to avoid any Maleficent scenarios with this savage woman.

Moon Rabbit Cookie: My spirit animal! I love how she constantly munches while she runs. This girl is such a mood for me. Cute little bunny ears~!

Space Doughnut: Awww, look at this alien dork! Their design is very cute, and I love how their expression of >:3.

Macaron Cookie: Such a sweetie pie! Why must they all be so adorable?! She’s a little drummer girl! That is too precious! Look at her dress and hat!!!

Pink Choco Cookie: She reminds me of a show I watched when I was younger. It was about a space girl, does anyone remember it? This girl will save the day, I can tell!

Avocado Cookie: Strong girl on the loose! My pun-loving friends would adore this cookie. And she’s a blacksmith, which is always cool.

Whipped Cream Cookie: Elegant ballerino!! He’s definitely one of my favorites! Such a beautiful boi~! I love his design so much, and he’s very useful. <3 <3 <3

Blackberry Cookie: Yeeees! Gothic girl for the win! She is SO dang pretty! I am WEAK for gothic lolitas, and she even has ghost buddies! I bet she’ll love spooky games like Luigi’s Mansion and Hollow Knight.

Lemon Cookie: Edgy boi is trying way too hard to be Shadow the Hedgehog. I mean, can you SMILE for once dude? It’ll take me a while to bond with this guy.

Salt Cookie: He strikes me as a wise old man you’d find meditating at the top of a mountain, or in his case on a boat in the ocean. I bet he has lots of knowledge to share.

Squid Ink Cookie: AWWWWW, SWEET BABY SQUID!!! Guys, I think they might be my favorite! They’re so squishy and mighty, and they need all my love and huggles!!! Don’t be sad baby, I’ll be your friend! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Lime Cookie: Beach girl! She’s like Lemon Cookie, but slightly nicer! I really like her hair and beach ball. Very cool girl.

Ninja Cookie: FINALLY! SOMEONE WITH MORE THAN TWO JUMPS!!! I went kind of crazy with his jumping powers at first. He’s super cool. Not sure why his pet is a ghost though.

Pomegranate Cookie: Oooh, I love Asian fashion~! Look how fancy and elegant she is! Her story concerns me, and I’m worried about her.

Angel Cookie: Good cookie, sweet cookie. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. It looks like they trust the devil boy, which is beyond kind of them. I love it when angels get along with demons. Defy angle roles!!!

Devil Cookie: Speaking of, they’re a cute little bean too! I love the naughty demon trope, and this cutie is so mischievous! Call Angel your “rival” all you want, I’m still shipping you dorks.

Roll Cake Cookie: Imagine, if you will, the world’s biggest game of Whack-A-Mole! With that hammer, this boy would win without question.

Popcorn Cookie: I’d be happy to go with this girl to the movie theater! Also, I love how she had popcorn for hair buns. She seems like she’d be up for a fun time!

Carrot Cookie: Oh my lordy, her ponytails are carrots. The artists for this game are so clever. Strong but tiny farmer, I approve.

Ion Cookie Robot: Yes! A robot! I love robots, and this cookie is no exception! Definitely one of my favorites, up there with Whipped Cream Cookie. They’re super powerful too, and REALLY useful in Breakout and Trophy runs.

Dino-Sour Cookie: Gee Dino-Sour, how come Devsisters let you have two pets? Very cool punk boy. I can see him going to Rockstar Cookie’s concert.

Plum Cookie: Aren’t plums purple though? This boy is one tough cookie! Look at his karate moves! Honestly, I thought he was a girl at first. Why must these boys be so pretty?!

Yogurt Cream Cookie: PRINCE ALI! FABULOUS HE! ALI ABABWUA~!

Alchemist Cookie: Look, it’s Twilight Sparkle! Apparently, Vampire boy is her brother? I really like her hair braids(?), I just wish she’d loosen up a bit. She seems like a nice girl.

Roguefort Cookie: Aaaah yeah, elegant thief! This cookie is the coolest! I love this aesthetic so much~! Blue cheese has never been so fancy. Just look at this charmer, stealing hearts!

Pitaya Dragon Cookie: OOOOOhohoho! THIS is what I’m TALKING about! Look at this beast, they’re GLORIOUS! They’ve probably killed a bunch of people, but They’re crazy powerful and I adore them.

Knight Cookie: This guy is SO much fun to play as! He just won’t stop, he’s too fast!!! I couldn’t stop laughing once I found out just how fast this knight could go! Somehow he controls better than Pistachio? I don’t know, I love him!

Birthday Cake Cookie: TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS! SHE’S SO DANG CUTE!!! Also, her “Bonus Time” changes to “Happy B Day” and I... I just can’t! She’s the sweetest thing!!! <3 <3 <3

Cocoa Cookie: Awww, look at this sweet baby! I wanna snuggle her! Her design looks so warm and comfy. I have plenty of hot chocolate to give her. <3

Raspberry Mousse Cookie: Ah yes, the pretty boy that got me into this game in the first place. Along with Squid Ink, he’s probably my favorite. There’s a reason he has the highest affection so far with me. I just adore his design, and he’s very powerful! I will ALWAYS have him ready for Breakout and Trophy Runs. Well worth all the hype. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Rose Cookie: Finally, we have this lovely lady. Everyone is shipping her with Raspberry, and rightfully so. She is a high-quality woman that makes gay men straight and straight girls lesbian. Look at that outfit! And those dance moves!

Aaaand that’s everybody for now! I’ll update this once I get more Cookies. So far, I like most of them a lot. Anybody got some favorites they’d like to share? I’m still new to this game, but I’m happy to hear what others have to say!

UPDATE 1:

I went back and fixed all the gender mistakes I made. (I’m so sorry! D:) Also, I got a few more cookies! So here we go!

Walnut Cookie: Precious detective baby! The newest update is only making her cuter! Probably the shortest of the bunch, and I adore her design~! <3

Cinnamon Cookie: Super useful power so far, and they have a really cool cape! Those cards are very handy! (I promise I’ll pay attention to the genders of these cookies from now on! I don’t want to misgender anyone again!)

Sparkling Cookie: Oooh, a sparkling cider cookie! That’s honestly the only boozy thing I enjoy drinking. He is super classy and seems like the life of the party. He strikes me as a Great Gatsby kind of host.

Moonlight Cookie: OOOOOOOH~! LOOK at this GODDESS! I love the nighttime/dreamy aesthetic. This girl has Luna’s hair and a wizard’s outfit, high tier cookie!

White Choco Cookie: This game sure likes it’s knights, huh? This girl is a fine lady and apparently, she attracts all the lesbians. Can’t say I blame those girls, I do love that hairstyle.

Spinach Cookie: Aaand the newest cookie to hit the scene, this girl! I have never met someone so dedicated to vegetables, so I have to applaud that. She’s a super sweet girl, and I hope we find who stole her precious vegetables!!!

UPDATE 2:

More Cookies! It’s been a while since I’ve updated this, so I have quite a bit to share. On to the new ones!

Mustard Cookie: Look at this punk girl! Street artist on the loose in the streets! I always admire people and characters in this style, so I’m supporting this rebel all the way!

Herb Cookie: Now THIS guy is everywhere! It seems the fandom really likes him, and I can see why. He seems like a very nice boy, with a sweet plant baby. I like the leaf hair, very cool.

Sea Fairy Cookie: I love how everything on her flows. Her hair, her dress, she’s so beautiful~! I will say though, Legendaries are SO DANG HARD to level up and get affection with! WHY?!

Cream Puff Cookie: Awwww, look at this precious baby girl~! Look at her soft hair and little dress! I almost feel bad running with the super cute ones, I don’t want them to get hurt!

Matcha Cookie: Oooooh, all these ancient-looking cookies have the coolest designs! She’s probably insane, darkness will do that to ya, but she seems harmless so I like her!

Ice Candy Cookie: This chick could crush me like a grape and I don’t know how to feel about that. Hopefully, she’s only savage on the ice rink. I do NOT want to mess with this girl.

Cherry Blossom Cookie: Awww, look how pretty she is~! Cherry blossoms are always so lovely, and this girl embodies that. She has a PARASOL for crying out loud, I CAN’T EVEN!!

Grapefruit Cookie: This game sure likes sports, huh? She seems really cool, I love her colors! Do you think she’d play Skate 3? Hopefully, she’d get a laugh out of that game.

Pirate Cookie: This guy has been a long time coming. I’ve been curious about him since the Breakout episode. He’s pretty neat, I appreciate how he naturally comes with an extra revive.

Kumiho Cookie: Cool! A Kitsune! I love the spin on the concept of cookies. Let this marshmallow fox live out her reverse-furry dream! I’m loving her design too, look at that hair!

Marshmallow Cookie: Oh cute! Another marching band cookie! According to her story, she and Macaron had a falling out. I hope they can reconcile and be friends again. :(

Dark Choco Cookie: WE’VE REACHED MAXIMUM EDGE! WITH OREO SHOULDER PADS!!! Interesting how he’s still trying to be a hero, which is a nice spin on the “I have evil powers so now I’m evil” trope. Here’s hoping he stays strong.

Fire Spirit Cookie: Ah yes, the classic lord of fire. A staple for any fantasy story that includes the elements. Again, it’s impossible to get the affection for these guys.

Mala Sauce Cookie: Yay! I got Pitaya’s girlfriend! I always love it when there’s a tribe/society of warriors and the WOMAN is the strongest one there. Heck yes! This warrior lady is a badass!

Firecracker Cookie: I didn’t know I was invited to a rave party! Love the neon colors on this cookie, that’s something this game really excels at.

UPDATE 3:

I’ve reached 90 cookies! I’m on the homestretch!!!

Cheesecake Cookie: OH MY LORDY LOOK HOW FANCY SHE IS! I adore her already! Fancy ladies are the best ladies!

Kiwi Cookie: This game REALLY likes sports. He looks cool, can’t complain.

Yoga Cookie: Awww, a pretzel is trying to be loose! I’ve done yoga a few times, and it is very good for your body. Nice colors, simple design, nice.

Dr. Wasabi Cookie: I’d reference some mad scientist, but I know a lot of them so we’d be here for a while. Her combi generator has been very helpful.

Tiger Lily Cookie: IT’S THE EYE OF THE TIGER IT’S THE THRILL OF THE NIGHT, RISING UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVALS!

Chili Pepper Cookie: Uh oh, this one’s a troublemaker! I really like her hair, it’s very bright. Secure your pockets around this chick, that’s for sure.

Millennial Tree Cookie: These cookies are too pretty, I keep thinking they’re girls! This guy is so beautiful~ truly a being of nature!

DJ Cookie: Ooooh, I love her design~. Rainbow colors will win me over every time. And look! She’s wearing a Bi Pride shirt! This girl is awesome! I like how her special power is basically tiny Guitar Hero.

Snow Sugar Cookie: Soft baby, sweet baby. Looks very cuddly. Their level was very helpful during Sandwich Cookie’s event in getting frozen jellies. Those blue bears aren’t easy to come by!

Fig Cookie: CENTAUR! I wasn’t expecting one of those here! She’s such a sweetie pie~. Since everything and anything is allowed in this game, can we get mermaids or harpies next?

Cotton Candy Cookie: PRECIOUS BABY! She’s so gosh darn cute, I can’t take it! I personally can relate to falling in love with things so easily. And there are official plushies of her now! ONE DAY I WILL BRING HER HOME!

Purple Yam Cookie: Bro needs a chill pill. Not ONCE have I seen this guy smile yet. And I thought Lemon needed to lighten up. Milk seems to care about him though, so I guess he can’t be that bad.

Milk Cookie: The softest of warriors! Look how cute he is~! I adore him! Plus he really shines in the stories. I can only assume Yam is his boyfriend or something. Am I wrong about that?

Cyborg Cookie: Hey! I saw the storybook for this one! I’m surprised I haven’t unlocked this “Aloe Cookie” yet. Are they still in this game? I can’t find them on the chart. Anyway, Cyborg is cool. Very nice design.

Mango Cookie: Newest baby! I love him, and would love to learn all about the islands from him! I’m gonna say it, I already ship him with Ananas Cookie, no questions asked.

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #list #alanna #alanna_artroid

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spruce-button · 5 years

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A Scraped YHS Fic

I put about an hour into writing this altogether. I didn't have a plot for it at all and didn't know what i was gonna do with it. I then made a plot for another fic that would have cancelled these 1300 words in five seconds so I'm not going to work on this anymore. I thought about deleting it but figured that someone might want to read this and it could be a intro into my writing. Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this on my phone. So here you guys go.

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Prologue

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Grian was just visiting. He was going to leave as soon as he could and didn't plan on visiting again. He had things at home to deal with. Yet he went back and got stuck. He couldn't leave now. He was to blame for all of this. Grian had to help Taurtis.

Or was he Taurtis?

It doesn't matter. He had to help the person he was supposed to be. He didn't care what he had to do to help everyone he could and fix things. He had to get rid of Sam.

Oh did he love hearing Sam's bones crack everytime he was pushed off the ladder and he loved watching Sam crawl around the school.

Grian won't ever admit it, though.

It was quite refreshing to see after hearing the blood hit the ground after Rowan was stabbed.

He'll forget about it at some point. Well, he hoped he did.

Grian's throat was burning and he wanted to die. His throat was closing up around the sharp plastic he was swallowing. His tears were pouring into the cuts on his cheeks and into his mouth. His tears tasted better than the plastic and stomach acid.

He hadn't eaten anything other than plastic and stale, crumbled chips in weeks. He was desperate for anything else. Grian was going crazy and he wished for Rowan's help. Or anybody's validation. Maybe just a carrot.

He felt so frail and useless. He was nothing.

And you better not forget that.

He was pressed up against a wall again. This one was so much colder than the one in the kissing shed. It was in a house he didn't want to be in and he was hearing voices he didn't want to hear. This wasn't right. He deserved it, though.

"What's up with Taurtis? He's so weird."

"I don't know, dude. He's been acting so weird lately. I think he's gone a bit crazy."

They would start laughing later. It was a little too much for him. He couldn't move himself from the corner. His hands were shaking and he couldn't feel his hands. The plastic hurt so much.

Grian's heart was racing by this point and his vision got sharper. He rubbed his eyes, they stung. He was so tired.

He woke up to Sam kicking his foot. His back hurt and he wasn't registering what Sam was saying to Jerry, but he got up anyway.

He never wanted to wake up.

In his dreams he felt safe. There were people who still cared for him and gave him proper attention. It was in a world that didn't exist and where he found people he loved. He had friends there.

At some point during the day Sam had swung his arm around his neck and squeezed a little too hard for a little too long and he developed bruises. Okami was concerned when they got to school and told Rowan, but they didn't do anything. Ellen took him home and helped him. That was enough for now.

He sat next to his girlfriend quietly. She didn't really talk and Grian had no reason to. She gave him some sort of warmth and he loved her but it wasn't enough for him. He would never tell her. He had no right to tell her what he wanted when she had been so kind to help out while the adults did what they could from afar. Sam ruined his life and he couldn't take much anymore.

Silly visited him the next day when Sam and Jerry disappeared. It was comforting knowing that there was someone else there for him. With each day he was becoming more like her and she seemed to be more open to him. That was also nice.

She brought kind words with a kind voice and apologized on her parents' behalf, they hadn't been there for him much after Rowan was stabbed. It was too dangerous for the family. Silly assured Grian that they were getting someone to help him. Someone who was more capable of protecting and comforting him. He was glad. He wouldn't have to deal with Sam much longer.

When Sam and Jerry got back they were off. Sam was irritated and Jerry seemed upset, which scared Grian immensely. He was scared of what would happen to him.

Jerry went off to bed but Sam stayed up. He said that he needed to spend some alone time with his best friend.

"Taurtis you are making our new friend feel unwelcome and I don't see why you have to go and do that." Sam's words were simple and terrifying, Grian has heard them so many times yet they keep on getting worse with each passing day. He constantly thought about them and how they were affecting him.

"I don't mean to." They had a script now, the conversation would usually end like that. With Grian's half apology and Sam going to bed, but Sam sat down on the couch.

"I'm going to need more than that Taurtis. It's not enough. You're absolutely worthless." That he was.

"Well-I I am having a hard time. This is a little much for you and you won't admit it." Grian didn't know exactly what to say exactly, Sam broke off of the usual script. Grian was thinking for himself at that moment and he felt like he had crossed a line.

"Taurtis, I'm going to need you to try a little harder you're being a terrible friend and your not acting like yourself, go and eat your Toritos."

Grian was lost. He needed to go home, to his actual home he left with his parents and back to his cat that he missed so much. He was forgetting what it was like to be happy or be with someone who he cared for and each conversation pushed him further down the rabbit hole. God did he miss his cat.

He wanted something good from this place. He wanted at least one good memory that wasn't tainted in blood soaked sand or manipulation. He knew that was too much to ask for. It was hopeless.

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Chapter 1

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Taurtis' sweat bands were starting to get sticky and smelled absolutely terrible. Grian's wrists were too small for them and definitely not made for him. He didn't fit them but Sam made sure that he'd grown into them.

Grian was bothered that he couldn't think for himself, so he thought about it constantly. He was in high school, he shouldn't have to worry about abuse from his friend's, he should be worrying about who he was going to hang out with next or his girlfriend that he hasn't been able to even look at for a week. It got so bad that in the few breaks from his thoughts he would wonder if she actually existed. Surely the girl he liked with the purple hair and one less eye was real, right?

Ellen was one of the only lights shining through the blinds in Grian's mind. He couldn't not have her. She had to be real. But she wasn't and he now knew this. He was alone.

Silly helped out, though. She gave him support and soft laughs. It never lasted long.

Oh God he was stuck down Sam's rabbit hole and it was getting deeper and darker every day.

There was no Taurtis to help him anymore.

The concrete started to hurt Grian's feet after an hour of walking around town with Sam, Yuki, and Jerry. Yuki had been trying to get sam to buy her food for ten minutes now and Sam had surprisingly been ignoring her squeal and whines. It gave Grian a headache from his place behind the three so it must of been so much worse up ahead.

Yuki eventually gave up when Jerry asked Sam if they could go to the manga shop. She knew there wasn't any good food around the manga shop and the only snacks were JerryKats and Toritos and she refused to even look at the things. If Grian had the choice he wouldn't go within ten meters of either but he didn't.

He tried his best not to pay attention to what Sam was saying anymore, it was all useless or aggressive and hurt people who were hearing in and he didn't want to be hurt anymore. Today, though, was strange. He couldn't help but listen. Grian didn't know exactly why but it was probably Sam' glances around the area when they would pause their walk or the strange panicked changes in their route to downtown and the random cuts through people's lawns.

"I swear to god someone is watching us, Jerry. I bet Taurtis back there is trying to do something weird, let's ditch him." Sam whispered something else to Taurtis and they ran from him. He was too frail and exhausted to run with them but he still tried to catch up, he didn't know what he'd do if they left him. He failed miserably and eventually lost his footing and fell into a bush in front of a small store.

Grian sat there, confused and dizzy. His lungs hurt and refused to get up. He much rather sit there full of dread than die in the middle of an alleyway he'd eventually pass out in if he continued.

His skin became raw and red from and the tiny scratches made by bush twigs and his shirt tore. Sam was going to kill him.

A few people passed by the half asleep Grian before Okami found him and called for her husband. Rowan came and helped Grian to the school. It was safer than Sam's house. Grian couldn't go back there for a bit in his current state, he needed to be patched up and to at least sleep in a chair instead of a room corner.

Grian had gone to sleep and Rowan left to go make actual food for him as Okami watched him. She had always felt terrible for leaving him at Sam's house and not helping him and she knew Rowan did too, it was just too much for Silly and they needed to protect their daughter. They did what they could for the time being and tried to get anyone to come help them. It was very difficult.

Grian slept for a very long time. Rowan's food had gone cold and Okami had to leave, but Rowan stayed, he failed Grian once before and couldn't do it again.

The morning was better for Grian.

#yhs #yhs grian #yandere high school #minecraft rp #samgladiator #angst #angst fic

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

Text

Share a Birthdate

I finally pushed out a chapter! I still don’t know who is reading or where y’all are or what. Funny enough, I was thinking about getting to this subject (because even though I tend to not write a lot of the hero parts, y’all know, I’m presuming that Henry and Max both are still actually doing hero work and juggling/balancing that with all the stuff that I’ve been writing. So, as per the original premise of the story, that y’all may have forgotten... this placement in the lair isn’t intended to be permanent. I thought, after seeing the Graduation story arc of HD that possible departures were not something anybody wanted to discuss or read about, but also... This is where we are in the story and it can’t go on for much longer, really, just because it’s becoming much too long for the general audience, except for of course my #HDOldLadyGang. However, it’s not a slam into your guts arc like HD did y’all. Also, I was able to write a little bit of Thundermans, which I don’t do a lot of and need more practice with, but here goes...

Share-a-Lair 13

“What do you even wear to meet somebody’s parents?” Charlotte wondered.

“What did you wear whenever you met Jack’s parents?” Piper asked right back.

“I didn’t even think about it, because I was just his friend from camp whenever we met. By the time we were something else, they had known me for a little while and they loved me. These people don’t know anything about me.”

Jasper chimed in, “No, but Max probably told them all about you, so you likely have a lot to live up to because he TOTALLY overplays your attributes.”

“Excuse me???” Charlotte asked.

“It’s adorable!” Jasper said. “He thinks the world revolves around you. It doesn’t. It revolves around the sun.”

Piper sighed and held a pair of earrings up to Charlotte’s ear, “Is it like a fancy dinner or like a party?”

“It’s like a family party?” Charlotte said. “I guess something like you guys do for Hen’s birthday. I don’t know. I was thinking that I’d dress like we’re going to a dinner date, since I’m meeting his parents, but maybe like a cocktail dress, since it’s his birthday dinner.”

“I can’t believe that you didn’t plan this out before,” Jasper said.

“Do you know how much work I’ve had to do since Henry’s advancement?”

Jasper scoffed, “Do you know how much work I’ve got to do since you and Henry haven’t been in the Man Cave as much?”

Piper said, “All you do is personal assistant stuff for Ray. You did that anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s MORE now because he’s lowkey depressed!” Jasper said. “So, I have to pick up more snacks, set more spa appointments, force him to take more showers!”

“Who’s protecting Swellview while he hosts his pity parties?” Charlotte asked, concerned.

“Me,” Piper said, as though it was obvious. Jasper just pursed his lips and nodded. Now, Charlotte wanted to go to the Man Cave and make sure everything was functional! But… She just didn’t have the time and she’d have to remember that. She took the earrings from Piper and placed them back in their spot, picked up a different pair and held up to her own ears. “Much better,” Piper said, nodding.

Jasper laid down on Charlotte’s extra bed while she continued arranging her outfit.

Ultimately, she decided on an updo with golden jewels as hair garnish, a long sleeved sleek espresso colored party dress with boots, a belt and a clutch that complimented them well, and a gold jewelry set. If it turned out to be a little more fancy, she had a satin scarf that would instantly upgrade her look.

Max picked her up from her parents’ house, though they were out of town for some of her father’s business. She simply didn’t want to have to drive all the way to the Lair, when Hiddenville was past her in the other direction. Since she was (sort of) on the way, he collected her from there. She was doing some remote Man Cave work while she waited on him on the patio outside and almost didn’t notice him walk up. “Hey!” She said when she did, though. “What’s behind your back?”

“I got you flowers!” He said and pulled out a bouquet of peonies.

Charlotte gasped and smiled brightly. “They’re my favorite! I don’t remember telling you that!” She took them to put them into “the vase.” It was a vase in their house that was only there because Jack used to send her flowers. Mostly, her mom used it now, for nice dinners and stuff. He watched her, a little bit hungrily, but composed.

“You look really amazing,” he said.

She looked at him now - he was the same as always. Dark colors and “not even trying” casual-sexy in a dark purple T-shirt, black jacket, dark jeans and black high top sneakers. “I feel overdressed,” she said, noting his outfit.

“Naw. It’s a special occasion. I think you’re more on the mark than me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and officially greeted her with a kiss on the nose, which she reflexively pressed herself into a little harder. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. And they were off.

Barb was frantically going about the place, trying to make sure that everything was perfect. They had the twins come over for their birthdays before, but this year would be so different! Max was bringing a woman home!! Yes, Max had dated before and even casually introduced women that he saw to them… but he hadn’t brought one home in a very long time and not on an occasion like his birthday! This one might be the one! To get him settled into a home to escape from at the end of his missions. To give her some beautiful little grandchildren! My grandchildren would be the most adorable kids alive!!!

She had seen photos of Charlotte before. Max was constantly posting them to his social media and she would always leave a comment, “Beautiful! Can’t wait to meet her!!” And he’d love the comment, but never get around to actually making good on her request. But, today, he would. That was exciting.

He’d called her previously and said, “Hey, Mom… Do you think it’d be okay to add an additional spot, for me and Phoebe’s birthday thing? I kind of… want Charlotte to be with me for my birthday…” She could hear the smile in his voice and she could hear something else too. Her little boy was in love. Well, her big boy. Her grown up baby. She had to make sure that everything was perfect and that she made them comfortable. It was hard enough to get Max to stop by when there wasn’t an occasion or an assignment. He went off, falling in love and gallivanting around with his new girlfriend, they might never see him, if she didn’t make a big impact.

“Alert, The twins and friends approaching,” the monitor called. Barb squealed happily and called, “Max and Phoebe are here!”

Of course, Billy was the first one down, Nora and Chloe came from the kitchen and Hank got up from the couch as his wife rushed to the door to open it for her oldest two. “Mom!” The twins cheered as soon as the door opened and they gave her a shared hug. Charlotte had just been introduced to Link when they got out of the cars, and the two of them stood back as the Thunderman hugs went around. She could have sworn that Max had just seen them a week or two ago, but maybe time was not as she remembered it. While they were exchanging their happy greetings, Cherry and Oyster walked up behind Link and Charlotte and she commented, “Well, at least I’m not the only non-family here.”

“Are you kidding? Cherry is as much family as their kids,” Link said.

“Great.” Now, her hands were sweating and of course, that meant it was time to shake The Thundermans’... Thundermanses’? Thunderman’s?...

“Mom, Dad, this is Charlotte, my… Charlotte.” Max said, somewhat awkwardly and blushing as he put his had in the small of her back to move her closer to himself and them. She smoothly wiped her hand on his sleeve and reached out to shake Barb’s hand but when she reached for Hank’s, Max intercepted and said, “He sometimes is way too strong. Shake in spirit.” She smiled and nodded.

“Nice to finally meet you!” Barb cheered. “Hope you like the flowers. Max insisted on incorporating peonies and I’ve never known him to be a flower boy, so I figured it was for you.”

Charlotte squinted, “I have no idea who told him about peonies, but - they are my favorite. He’s so thoughtful.” she smiled at him and he crinkled his nose smiling and gushing.

Nora and Billy came over and almost tackled her with hugs, both talking at the same time (and she realized that she hadn’t seen them since the video game tournament), and tried to hear what both of them were saying. Eventually, they got back on the same page when they said, “And this is our youngest sister, Chloe.”

Charlotte waved at the young teenage girl, “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

“A likely story!” Chloe said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Oh,” Charlotte said and smiled, uncomfortably.

“Chloe! Don’t be mean… at least not to her,” Max said.

Chloe beckoned him with her hand and whenever he got closer, pulled him by the jacket and they vanished. Charlotte gasped. “What just happened?” She wondered.

“That’s her superpower,” Billy said, a little amused by Charlotte’s face.

A moment later, Max and Chloe were back and Chloe reached for Charlotte’s hand to shake it. “Well, despite what Dr. Collosso has told me, I’ve chosen to believe Max that he’s just jealous. So, nice to meet you… You’d better not steal away and-or hurt my brother!” She leaned in and said, “I can make you disappear.”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide and Max broke their bodily contact, taking Charlotte’s hand away from Chloe and into his own. “Chloe!” He wrapped an arm around Charlotte and laughed a little, “She’s going through puberty. Hormones and superpowers, yanno?”

Now, Charlotte was not easily scared, but this girl COULD make her disappear. She'd just shown her so when she and Max went to have their little discussion. Nora and Billy had loved her right away and Phoebe had always been cool. The last thing that she was expecting was for the kid to distrust or dislike her. She was gonna strangle that bunny when she saw him!

Aside from that hiccup, it was great, though.

Barb and Hank tried to take a lot of her time, mostly Barb, and Max kept stealing her back when she seemed overwhelmed. Even when he and Oyster were in the middle of talking animatedly about something. She appreciated that. Cherry played some music to dance to and Oyster almost immediately planted his butt to a seat. Charlotte felt THAT in her spirit and moved to join him, but Max caught her hand and gave her a gentle tug.

"What's happening? Are you dancing?" She wondered. She hated dancing. She did not want this, at all..

He pressed his face close to hers, moving to the beat of the music, "It's my birthday. Indulge me?" He poked his lip out in a pout and she couldn’t resist him. Phoebe and Link were dancing next to them. Cherry was dancing by herself, with Oyster seated nearby and watching. The younger Thundermans were dancing in a little circle. Charlotte noticed that Barb had her camera out. No way was she going to be caught looking stupid. She had rhythm, so she just rocked a little bit while Max danced around her. With a little wine, she might feel better, but technically not being old enough, she didn’t want to be seen drinking in front of his parents. They might think ill of her. Her parents allowed her wine, but this family was different from hers and it was really a big deal to her to make a good first impression on them. The way that Max adored them made this important to her.

There was something really special about him. He wasn’t the first guy she cared deeply about and she was pretty sure he probably wouldn’t be the last one. But, he was the only one that she felt like… compromising things for. Yeah, it was cool to be able to have somebody who knew that you didn’t want to dance and left you alone about it, but that little, “Indulge me?” and the tugging of her heart TO indulge? That was an exciting, but manageable new sensation, and she was apprehensive, but felt like even when she would jump in, he’d have her. She wasn’t going to slip up and look stupid. If she did look a little silly, well… He was still gonna look at her exactly the same. After a while, she loosened up and enjoyed her little small dance movements. She definitely enjoyed watching him move around her. That’s not to say that whenever Hank excitedly cheered that it was time for cake (A little TOO excitedly, she thought), that she wasn’t thanking the stars for dancing dismissal.

Max took her hand again - she loved whenever they were together and he kept her close to himself, and it felt even better happening around his family than it did when it was just friends. Barb and Hank started what appeared to be some type of birthday rap and Charlotte prayed silently that her face was not going to insult them. She felt something graze her skin and turned to see that Max had taken one of the nearby peonies from their vase and handed it to her, which distracted her long enough to smile, smell it and admire him. And when the rap ended, Hank was the first to grab a slice of cake that Phoebe cut for him and make his way to the couch with it. The others were getting smaller slices that Barb was placing on plates and Max cut a slice for Charlotte. “Here ya go!” he said.

She looked at the room and wondered, “Aren’t you going to get yours?”

He waved a hand and said, “There will be some left.”

She looked at the cake as Hank ALREADY was coming for seconds and shook her head, “I don’t know. You know this group better than me, but it looks like you’ll miss out, Dude.” She had this mini flashback to one of Hen’s birthdays where he was forced to work and everybody else just moved on and had cake. He’d brought it up after the fact and made her feel pretty guilty about not even thinking twice about leaving him out of his own birthday cake and saying that Jasper was the only one who had his back. That was hurtful to hear, because it was true in that one time, and for whatever reason had carried more weight with Henry than she would have thought. To heck with that, though. She turned turned towards Max and pinched off a piece of her cake. “Open up,” she said, with a smile.

He listened. It wasn’t a struggle or anything. It may have been her slice, but he was gonna take first bite and right from her hands was actually much better than he had ever eaten a piece of cake before in his life. Her brown eyes twinkling up at him, her perfect smile beaming at his sheer satisfaction. Neither of them noticed Barb swatting Hank on the belly to get his attention. He was already looking and simply caught her hand in his free hand (He was holding his cake in the other). Barb whispered in excitement, “She’s it for him, you know that right? Just LOOK at them!”

Hank saw a pretty girl feeding his son cake on his birthday… Which gave him a great idea for a gift Barb could give him on HIS next birthday. Whenever he turned to ask her about it, the woman was to the point of crying. In her mind, she was seeing her little boy, too small to even fit his baggy suit, but getting MARRIED? He was too young! But, if that’s what made him happy… “Barb?” Hank broke into her thoughts. “Why don’t you take a little break. You’ve been working hard all day.”

She nodded, “Yes. Yes, a break.” Max took the plate from Charlotte. If she kept feeding him SHE wasn’t going to get any cake! So, at least she was gonna have that last bite of this slice. When he held the fork out to her and she took it into her mouth, Barb just wiped her eyes and smiled softly. Max kissed Charlotte on the forehead and asked her if SHE wanted an actual slice. She did.

Barb was heading to a chair whenever Link had an announcement to make. One that he wanted everyone’s attention for. Max was getting more cake, but everyone else was paying attention, so that was enough for Link.

Charlotte gave Barb a cordial smile as the woman came and stood right next to her and Link went on this tangent about how from the first time he met Phoebe, he knew she was special, “Literally! She used her superpowers right in front of me!” They laughed. He went on and talked about how they had to go their separate ways, but always made time for each other and reconnected a short while ago, etc. Max was back with cake, so Charlotte accepted the plate, ready to devour it, but Max was getting his phone out and started recording Link… which she thought was kinda weird until Link got down on one knee in front of Phoebe and Barb gasped loudly. “Phoebe Thunderman, will you marry me?” Cherry did a spit take with her punch. Charlotte didn’t really know Link, but she hadn’t been expecting that at this birthday party, either. It was kind of sweet and kind of exciting. She ate cake and watched Phoebe try to collect her feelings. Just like that, Barb’s attention was directed towards Phoebe and Link, now.

Max asked Cherry, “Why did you spit out your punch? Link told us that he was going to do this.” Cherry looked extremely shocked to hear this news.

Oyster commented, “He had to swipe the memory, because she kept about to accidentally tell Phoebe.”

Ignoring their ditzy couple friends, Max cheered, “Woooooo!!! Congrats, Pheebs!!” As Phoebe accepted her man and her ring.

Phoebe commented, “You’ll be next, Loverboy!” Charlotte nearly choked on her cake.

He laughed and said, “She’s just teasing, Char.” They stared at each other for a moment, then he took her empty plate, “Punch?”

“Yeah,” she said. He went to hug Phoebe, pat Link on the back, squeeze Barb’s shoulders… a lot of stuff before he actually made it to the punch.

In that time, Hank wound up back by her, “You work for Captain Man, right?”

She made a high pitched ‘Well’ sound and confirmed, “I mostly work for Kid Danger… Well… He’s actually going to change names, but, I definitely did work for Captain Man.”

“And did YOU want to punch him in the face, too?” He asked. She laughed out loud. He nodded, “He’s one of the most arrogant heroes that I’ve ever met, and it's only on his superpower, because his record isn’t even a Hero League low class. He only qualifies because of his power and occupation. Basically skates on indestructible.”

“I can believe it,” she said.

“You know, I have punched him in the face before. Once upon a time he said something to my wife that I didn’t appreciate. My fists did the talking. Punched him right through an ambulance. He came out on the other side and said, “I’m Okay!” He was, but I had to pay to replace the damn ambulance.” Hank shook his head. “And I hurt my thumb punching his stupid indestructible jaw.”

“He… has never mentioned that there was bad blood between you two!” Charlotte said.

“Oh, there wasn’t, really. The guy forgets everything that happens the moment he sees his reflection, so honestly, it was just me mad for awhile and I moved on. Haven’t really seen or spoken to him, so I was curious to know if he was still…”

“A prick. Yes. He is.” She covered her mouth. You can’t say “prick” to your boyfriend’s dad!

But, Hank laughed heartily and wiggled his finger at her, “I like you. You’re a feisty kid.”

Max glanced over when he heard Hank laugh. He was glad to see her getting on with his dad. Meanwhile, he and Phoebe talked. “It took Link and I TEN YEARS to get to this point. You don’t have as much time to reel her in,” Phoebe said.

“Chill! We’ve barely been together for a month.”

“Well, I mean, not on paper, but come on, dude. How long were the two of you… consorting before then?” She smiled and he blushed and looked away. “Listen, I’m just saying - she’s a HELL of a catch. She’s all the stuff that you want and need without some of the stuff that might run her off. If it’s gonna be a nonsupe, should be one that gets the lifestyle and stuff.”

“I’m not rushing anything,” Max said. “I’d scare her off before I have the chance to let her down, like the universe intended.”

“Let her down?” Phoebe repeated, concerned.

“My training term will be up in a few months. Henry is excelling in it. When he moves on, I will too. They’re leaning towards Russia.”

Phoebe looked sad for him, “And she doesn’t like Russia?”

He scoffed, “I haven’t told her this! How would I even do it? Hey - you know how I spent months pining over you right in your face and you finally gave me a chance and we’ve been connecting and falling in love for the past month or so? Long story short, in a few months, I’m probably going to be sent to Russia, and be stationed there for a few years! Wanna commit to coming with me, this soon into our relationship?”

“Not those exact words, but I have to ask you… How do you think it would play out if you waited until this summer? By that time, she’s several months in and probably all the way in love and let’s be honest, be losing you and her best friend at the same time… Is he coming to Russia with you?”

“Haven’t decided whether I want that or not. He’s capable, but… she’s gonna be mad enough at me without me taking him away.”

“Maybe with him, she’ll come along. All I know is you have to share this with her. She deserves to know.”

“I’m…” He shrugged his shoulders. Scared. She knew that he was, but she also knew that he was brave.

“Brave,” she finished the statement. “And honest. Do the right thing now, and maybe even if it takes ten years, the honesty and respect will always matter and bring you two back together. And to clarify… we don’t even know that she’ll break up with you. She’s had long distance relationships before, and so have you, albeit briefly. When you love someone, and you’re both willing to work, and both smart… you can figure it out! I don’t want to see you miss out on good things because you’re scared.”

“I never said I was scared.”

“We shared a womb. You don’t HAVE to say it!”

“Ugh. Happy 25th, Boogerhead.”

“You too, Loserface.” He pulled her in and gave her a kiss on the hair, then reminded himself that he owed Charlotte punch. They were going to be heading back home in a short while, and he planned on taking Phoebe’s advice. Just the thought of having to have that talk was terrifying, but Phoebe was right. He was brave and honest, and Charlotte deserved to know the truth.

#Share a Lair #henry danger #the thundermans #crossover #crossover fanfic #Nesha Crossover #Thundanger #Thunderbolt

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lustfulholland · 5 years

Text

Trust Me (8/13)

Bucky Barnes x avenger!rogers!Reader

warnings: language

summary: in which she helps him out

A/N: i might get a pet turtle n i’m really excited

“Is that a hickey?” Steve asks. Y/N turns to the side to face her brother.

“Why do you three get separated by metal bars but I have to sit next to you?” Y/N asks.

“I’m still your brother,” he says.

“And I’m still mad at you,” she replies, facing forward again.

“You’re avoiding the question,” Steve says.

“It’s definitely a hickey,” Sam says.

“Did Bucky give that to you?” Steve asks.

“No, the other super soldier I’m hiding gave it to me, Bucky’s just a coverup,” Y/N says sarcastically, “Use your brain, dumbass.”

“You better not be pregnant,” Steve says.

“I’m not,” Y/N says.

“But you two are dating again?” Steve asks.

“Something like that,” Y/N replies. She looks down at the ring and Steve follows her gaze. He raises his eyebrows and looks ahead again.

“He proposed again?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever ask questions that don’t have obvious answers?” Y/N counters.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. A few minutes of silence pass then Steve says, “Congratulations.”

“My fiancé is in a box,” Y/N says, “What is there to congratulate?”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice,” Steve says.

“And I’m trying not to choke you out,” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I know you are. Just be quiet please,” Y/N says, “I need time.”

Silence falls over the truck again. Y/N closes her eyes and leans her head back, Steve watches her. He looks at the purple mark on her neck and then looks back to the front.

“So you like cats?” Sam asks after a few minutes. Y/N laughs and bites her lip to quiet herself.

“Sam,” Steve scolds.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat, you don’t wanna know more?” Sam wonders.

“Your suit, it’s vibranium?” Steve asks.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. Now because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?” T’Challa goes on. When silence falls upon them T’Challa calls again, “Captain?”

“As l—”

T’Challa interrupts Steve, “That time I was talking to the girl.”

“Just because you kiss my ass doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to kill you,” Y/N says, quickly adding a sour-sounding, “Your highness.”

“What makes you think I’ll give you the chance?” he replies.

“What makes you think you can stop me?” Y/N shoots back. Silence blankets them for a fourth time. The rumble of the truck fills the air — a screech of the brakes following. The door opens and Y/N steps out first. She looks all over till she sees Bucky — trapped in a box with restraints holding his body. Steve steps behind her and she turns — looking up at him. A tear rolls down her cheek and she falls into Steve’s chest.

“I know,” Steve whispers into her hair, his hand rubbing circles on his back. Steve didn’t want Bucky to be captured, but now he had his sister in his arms and he was happy — not really caring that Bucky was in restraints in that moment.

“I’m losing him again,” Y/N sobs. Steve holds her to his chest comfortingly, whispering reassurances for her. She slowly calms down and looks up at him with fearful eyes.

“It’ll be alright,” Steve whispers, pressing a light kiss on her forehead. She nods and he gestures behind her with his head. She turns to see Sharon — Steve’s neighbor — and some man with three officers behind him. Steve keeps an arm on Y/N’s back as they walk toward the group five. Before anyone else could speak Steve asks, “What’s gonna happen to him?”

“Same thing that outta happen to you. Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander,” Sharon says. She gives Y/N a sympathetic look but Y/N just rolls her eyes and looks away.

“What about our lawyer?” Steve asks.

“Lawyer. That's funny,” Ross says, “See their weapons are placed in lockup. Oh, we'll write you a receipt.”

“I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that,” Sam says as they follow Ross through the large building.

Y/N turns back to look at Bucky and his eyes shift to her. The girl has another tear slipping down her cheek and Bucky looks up — unable to look at her in the broken state. Y/N was confused on how he looked so calm, but then again he spent most of his life captured — this was probably normal to him.

Steve urges her on and they follow the man through a tunnel. Y/N wants nothing more than to grab the nearest item and hit him in the back of the head, but she knew she would be shot down before she could even grab a makeshift weapon.

“You'll be provided with an office instead of a cell. Now, do me a favour, stay in it?” Ross says.

“I'm not intending on going anywhere,” T’Challa says. Y/N rolls her eyes again. The only thought in her mind was Bucky. Her eyes travel to Natasha who steps in line with them.

“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like,” Nat says to Steve.

“He’s alive,” Steve replies.

“Hey Y/N,” Nat says. Y/N gives the redhead a sarcastic smile then looks straight ahead. As they enter another room Tony’s voice travels and he’s obviously on the phone.

“Try not to break anything while we fix this,” Nat says, walking ahead of the group.

“...Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that ‘cause I just said it. Anything else? Thank you sir,” Tony says. He puts away the device and looks at the group.

“Consequences?” Steve wonders.

“Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted. Had to give him something,” Tony says, “As for her he has no clue what to do.”

“Because I’m innocent,” Y/N says.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just lie to me,” Tony comments. He turns back to Steve to speak to him.

“I’m not getting that shield back, am I?” Steve asks.

“Technically it’s the government's property,” Nat replies, “Wings too!”

“That’s cold,” Sam says.

“Warmer than jail!” Tony calls.

Y/N turns to Steve and punches his arm, “I had my life back asshole.”

“I was saving you!” Steve exclaims.

“Look how that turned out,” Y/N replies.

“Isn’t this the same girl that was just crying in the lobby?” Sam teases. Y/N lunges towards him but Steve grabs her.

“Knock it off,” Steve says, “I get you’re angry, we all are, but stop being an idiot.”

Y/N sighs and walks over to the small office area that was designated for them. A guard watched her closely and she stomped a foot causing him to flinch. She laughs and continues through the door.

“That never gets old,” Y/N says. Immediately a certain screen catches her attention and the smile on her face drops. She goes over to the glass wall and stares at the monitor that showed Bucky.

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?” Tony’s voice split through the silence. Y/N and Steve both turn to look at the man. Tony holds up a box of some sort to show it off, “I pulled something from dad's archives. Timely. FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941. Provided support to the allies when they needed most.”

As Tony spoke Steve made his way to the table. Y/N watches from her standing position, glancing at Bucky’s monitor every once in a while.

“Some would say it brought our country closer to war,” Steve counters.

“Steve, if not for these, you wouldn't be here,” Tony says, “I'm trying to, what do you call it, a— an olive branch. Is that what you call it?”

“Is Pepper here? I didn't see her,” Steve says, changing the subject.

“We are kinda... well not kinda—”

“Pregnant?” Y/N asks.

“No,” Tony lets out a single laugh, “Definitely not. We're taking a break. It's nobody's fault.”

Y/N looks at Steve and he gives her an awkward look. She covers her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh at her brother and Steve looks over at Tony.

“I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't know,” Steve says.

“A few years ago I almost lost her so I trashed all my suits. Then we had to mop up Hydra. Then Ultron, my fault. And then, and then, and then. I never stopped. 'Cause the truth is I don't wanna stop. I don't wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords can split the difference,” Tony explains, “In her defense, I'm a handful. Yeah dad was a pain in the ass, but he and mom always made it work.”

“You know, I'm glad Howard got married. I only knew him when he was young and single,” Steve says.

“Nobody cares,” Y/N mutters, more to herself than anything.

“Oh really? You two knew each other? He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times,” Tony says sarcastically. He starts to put on his suit-jacket, “God, I hated you.”

“I don't mean to make things difficult,” Steve says.

“I do,” Y/N smiles, turning to look straight at Tony.

“I know,” Tony says, “Because you're a very polite person, she’s not.”

“If we see a situation pointed south,” Steve says in defense for him and his sister, “We can't ignore it. Sometimes I wish we could.”

“No, you don't,” Tony argues.

Steve looks down with a smile, “No, I don't. Sometimes—”

“Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth. But I don't wanna see you gone. We need you, Cap. So far nothing's happen that can't be undone. Please, sign. Y/N, you too. We can make the last 24 hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych center instead of a Wakandan prison,” Tony says.

“He doesn’t need a psych center,” Y/N says.

“It looks like he tried to strangle you,” Tony says, motioning to his own neck.

“It’s not—” Y/N closes her eyes takes a deep breath. She opens them again and turns back to the screen.

“I'm not saying it's impossible. But there would have to be safeguards,” Steve says to switch the attention from his sister.

Tony sits, “Sure! Once we put out the PR — they're documents. They can be amended. I file a motion, have you, Y/N, and Wanda reinstated—”

“Wanda? What about Wanda?” Steve questions.

“She's fine. She's confined in the compound currently. Vision's keeping her company,” Tony says.

“Oh God, Tony! Everytime. Everytime I think you're seeing things the right way—” Steve says with disgust dripping from his words. Y/N lets out a short laugh, equally angry, but keeping her cool.

Tony interrupts, “It's a 100 acres with a lap pool. It's got a screening room. There's worse ways to protect people.”

“Protection? Is that how you see this? This isn't protection, it's internment,” Steve argues.

“She's not a US Citizen and they don't grant visas to Weapons of Mass Destruction!” Tony counters.

“Tony, come on, she's a kid!” Steve exclaims.

“Gimme a break!” Tony yells. He calmly continues, “I'm doing what has to be done, to save us from something worse.”

There’s a long pause before Steve nods, “You keep telling yourself that.” Steve lifts the pen he was holding and puts it back down, “Hate to break up the set.”

Steve leaves the glass room and Y/N turns to Tony. The girl looks at the pens then at Tony.

“What are these documents you’re trying to get Steve to sign?” Y/N asks.

“I know you and you would never sign them. Especially not after the way he reacted,” Tony says, “I’m not even going to waste my breath.”

Tony stands and leaves the area, Y/N now alone. She groans and runs in the direction Steve went — finding him being taken back by guards. He walks ahead of them and back to the office. Y/N moves in step with him.

“Everyone seems to hate me today,” Y/N laughs.

“Because you seem to hate them first,” Steve replies. Y/N nods in agreement — she couldn’t argue that.

They step back into the glass room and Y/N sits on top of the table, Steve stands at the glass. Their eyes scan the screen that showed Bucky in the container.

“The receipt for your gear,” Sharon says, passing a paper to Sam who had entered the room at some point during the silence.

“Bird costume? Come on,” Sam says.

“I didn’t write it,” Sharon replies. She notices the twins staring at the screen. She looks around before hitting a button — a screen in their small room lighting up with Bucky’s face and the conversation being played aloud.

Y/N doesn’t bother to look at Sharon but Steve gives her a thankful look. He turns back to watch his friend.

“I just want to ask you a few questions,” the man who sat in the room with Bucky asks, “Do you know where you are, James? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky,” Bucky replies.

Y/N bites down on her lip and stands. She plants herself next to Steve to watch and he wraps an arm around her. She would never say it but she was glad to see Steve again — the physical affection filled her with joy and minor relief.

The conversation went on uselessly but Y/N listened attentively. She whispered to herself about his answers, the rest ignoring her. The group’s attention was averted and Steve was looking at the pictures of the bomber.

“Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?” Steve asks finally.

“Because they’re dumbasses,” Y/N says.

“Get the word out,” Sharon explains, “Involve as many eyes as we can.”

“Right,” Steve says, “It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. It got seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.”

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him?” Sharon asked.

“No shit,” Y/N says — her eyes still glued to the screen.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothin’,” Sam says.

“We didn’t bomb the UN,” Steve shoots back, “That turns a lot of heads.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him,” Sharon says, “That guarantees that we would.”

Sharon squints suspiciously at the monitor and Steve turns to look at the man doing Bucky’s evaluation.

“Yeah,” Steve replies finally, “Y/N, what’s the creepy dude been saying?”

“Bullshit,” Y/N replies. Steve rolls his eyes at the response and continues to listen.

“Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” the man with the accent asks. Y/N felt odd listening to his voice — she felt there was something she was missing.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Bucky replies.

“You feel that if you open your mouth the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one,” he says.

“Why would he need to?” Y/N mutters. She turns, “Is forcing Bucky to answer illegal? It should be, right?”

Sharon shrugs and Y/N turns back to the screen. The anticipation could’ve killed Y/N — she had to know what was going on.

As if to make Y/N suffer more — the lights went out. Y/N’s eyes jump from one place to the next. She grips Steve and he holds her close to his body protectively. Steve turns to Sharon and she immediately gives him an answer.

“Sublevel five, east wing.”

Y/N, Steve, and Sam immediately jump into action. They sprint out of the room and through the building.

“Dibs on killing the creepy dude!” Y/N calls out.

“Don’t know if I can control myself!” Steve replies.

“Don’t make me hurt you to get my kill!” Y/N jokes despite being filled with pure rage.

taglist: @marcelaverzani @petersunderoos96 @finnsadie @multi-fandom-trash-uwu @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @gabealien12 @icedwolf-01 @moonstarsandsongs @mapreza1 @for-the-love-of-the-fandom

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boyinjeans · 5 years

Note

For the tedgens prompt thing, can I ask for a soulmate AU?

i wrote this and then tumble crashed and deleted it so here’s the second one, i wrote it SOBER instead of high like the first time and let me tell you. it is not as good. but here

TED

Soulmates have always felt like bullshit to me. Of course they’re real, but it’s kind of a rigged system if you ask me. Only half of the population meets their soulmate ever, and even less meet them before their 30’s. I don’t think I have a soulmate, honestly. I’ve never had anybody suddenly have silver hair pop up after I’ve met them, and I’ve had the same slick black hair since birth. I’m certain I’ll be stuck with it forever.

Sometimes I wonder what my soulmate’s favorite color would be. I wonder if it would change everyday just so they could see the shades of the rainbow light up my head. I wonder if their favorite color is already black and I’m just shit out of luck. I wonder a lot of things. But then I forget them all because really, I don’t care. I couldn’t care less if I have a soulmate or not. My hair is fine the way it is.

Besides, I’m just happy with the situation I have now. It can be frustrating, having someone so close but so far. Charlotte only sleeps with me because she knows that Sam isn’t her soulmate. They’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room, his hair color. It used to be a strawberry blonde—she fell in love with his ratty long hair in college—and now it’s an electric blue. Now he’s shaved his head so it’s harder to tell, but the blue is so bright that it’s hard to see past. Coincidentally, I noticed the Latte Hottay had green hair around the same time, Sam’s favorite color. And Charlotte swears up and down she’s seen a green haired girl in a Beanie’s uniform in his squad car. I only know all of this bullshit because Charlotte cries after sex and worries about Sam and tells me this is the last time every time. I don’t know why they stay together.

I think Bill is so resentful of his daughter’s girlfriend because she’s her soulmate, and he never got that. All he got was a failed marriage because she found her soulmate and Bill found tubs of ice cream and anger management and a poor father-daughter relationship. He gets on my nerves, but I feel sorry for him. Bill obviously cares whether or not he has a soulmate. I couldn’t relate, but I understand that he’s pathetically lonely. It’s sad. I can’t stand to look at him sometimes.

I think Paul finally met someone today because he came back from Beanie’s with red hair and a ridiculous pep in his step. I’ve never seen him show any emotions other than hatred and indifference. He’s really quite the one sided guy.

———

God, Paul must be having a blast right now. He was hysterical about the flash mob earlier, but I thought he was just being dramatic. I guess I understand now. Hiding behind trash cans with Bill and Charlotte while she flirts with me shamelessly is probably less painful than whatever emotion Paul is feeling right now. I can hear singing in the distance, maybe some screaming, and I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this is. We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die at the mercy of aliens from GLEE. Fantastic.

Soon enough, we hear Paul and some woman’s voice and we startle them. I tell Paul to shut the fuck up and get in a trash can, and his friend can scram. She could be a singing monster for all we know. Then I notice the purple hair—not a color I was expecting from Paul—and I understand his insistence that she stay. I may be a dick but I’m not cold hearted. I guess.

Purple haired girl seems to be who Paul thinks is the Latte Hottay, but she is absolutely not. She’s the crabby barista that doesn’t sing. Which is, I guess, really good in this situation. It’s also really good that she knows someone who lives in a fortress, the king I presume. I vote we go to the king.

———

We go to the king, but not before we face some terrifying dance number and a normal-haired Sam. Yeah, they had guns. That was actually terrifying. I think I played it off pretty well though, I’m not gonna lie.

Everyone gets in before Bill and I, who someone got stuck carrying Zombie Sam’s lifeless body because Charlotte insisted. She was going to cry, and I really did not want to see that. And fuck, she might not sleep with me after this if I’m a total asshole. So Bill takes Sam over to the group and throws him on a chair, but I’m stuck looking at the back of a black haired man as he shouts about some theory he had thirty years ago.

“Oh holy shit,” I whisper to myself as he turns around. Our eyes meet and he squints at me for a moment. I find myself unable to breathe as I watch his black hair turn silver, shinier than a spoon. Like holy shit, it’s beautiful.

“Has your hair always been that color?” He asks as he approaches me suspiciously. I make a face and yank a hair out of my head. It’s the prettiest green I’ve ever seen. A pale Easter green as opposed to a harsh, dark, forest green. I’m shocked. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“No...” I don’t know what to say right now. I always know what to say.

“Henry Hidgens,” he says to me as if I’m the only one allowed to know. He’s closer than I thought he was. I blink at the hair in my hand and look back up at him. All I can think to do is hug him. So I do. I hold him so tight that I wouldn’t let go if I were sucked into space right now.

This is kind of cruel, giving me something wonderful and then putting me through the apocalypse. Man, fuck the universe. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find a soulmate and here I am, hugging a king in a fortress while aliens invade outside.

“Ted Richards.”

“I did not theorize this part of today, Paul.”

#tedgens #ted richards #henry hidgens #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #ted x henry #slight paulkins i guess

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deepintoforestwego · 5 years

Text

Is there anything behind my face?

She is born knowing three things.

First is that her skin is as white as snow, her lips as red as blood, her hair as black as ebony.

Second is that seven times seven men had died so that she should live.

Third is, she shouldn't exist.

( Harsh thing for child to know, much less from moment of her birth. And harsher yet, she is right.

Were we willing to waste time in such way, we could debate about morality, about whether sins of parents transfer to children, about personal responsibility and knowledge men shouldn't wield, about whether you can blame her for what her beauty drives men to anymore then you can blame fire for burning those who get close- but that isn't kind of right we are talking about here.

It is a simple truth, written in bones of world, in lifeblood of universe, in skin of night and face of day- the snow shouldn't become person, because it is impossible.

But magic never cared about such things.)

She has feared her mother from very start, you see, and perhaps that is where trouble started, or mayhaps that saved her life. She knew she shouldn't be, you see, but very little else, as she was still just a newborn, and had never seen human before, though parts of her belonged to them, of course.

And queen may have not slept in while, and was rather cold and hungry and scared, and quite dainty woman to be honest, but she had this way of holding herself that made people defer to her, and she was all wrapped up in ermine and gold velvet and pearls, and she oozed magic like an old fish oozed stench, and child could see bargain wrapping up around two of them, and well she knew nothing of sorcery and it's limitations, so she must be forgiven for assuming this woman was deity who created her.

(Like I said, it was bad idea all from the start.)

'' My goddess. You who made me.'' Said the girl, for her mother could be clever and careful when she put her mind to it, and had requested for girl to have knowledge befitting her age and station, because everything else would have been rather awkward for her, and more importantly bad for her mother's plans.

''Not exactly, my dear. I am a human, I am afraid.'' The queen answered, after some consideration, because she did like being called goddess, even though she associated it more with her young lovers and her poor mother, but it would be quite strange for princess to go around talking like that, and even queen, as hungry for flattery as she was, was made uncomfortable by thought of girl meant to be her daughter worshipping her.

''My mistress. You who own me.'' Girl stated, slowly, drawing out words, her throat feeling quite funny, speaking for first time, as languages and social norms and concepts and table manners filled her head as flood fills empty house, for girl had no memories and experiences to trouble incoming information.

''Well! That was nicely put, though accent could use some work, but not befitting somebody of your station. Try again, dear.'' Said the queen, as her face settled down in an expression more befitting on a cat who just snatched a canary, and closed her eyes, her eyelids fluttering as she imagined her servants speaking in that delightfully obedient tone, so sure of their place, below her, defined by her.

‘My mother. You who gave me life.’‘ She says, still kneeling, and years later she will forget, or try to, bury it down, of how the queen's s smile grew when she heard those words, how she sat down and embraced still kneeling girl, and flinched when her warm hands touched cold, hard skin. It bruised her arms a bit, as if she had tried to hug a statue left out too long in winter's winds.

''Yes, my dear.'' Queen said, clutching her dark hair in her fingers, embracing her so hard that she almost had trouble breathing, and breathed in her daughter's smell, harsh and sweet aroma of pitch, the comforting freshness of newly fallen snow, the sharp smell of iron and salt.

The princess, who still didn't know what perfumes were, smelled her mother, the scent of flowers and herbs permeating her clothing, and underneath it something gross and hot (she had not yet known what sweat and soft human skin were like) and wondered why they were so different, and decided that didn't matter.

They arrive to place that girl nameless supposes is to be her home in quarter of hour, faster than the queen had ever journeyed before, for magic is ever fed by passion and from the heart, and queen had been almost drunk on pride of her success, joy from what would that mean for her, from terror and euphoria girl's beauty awoke in her, and as she hadn't slept and eaten in some time, and had almost died, her emotions running high and mad, so it wouldn't be hard for her to jump over to another country.

''This is my castle.'' The mother tells her, showing her wooden ring fortress, as they stand before wooden doors of main hall, and great noise is coming from it. Were somebody to watch, they would probably think girl emotionless, the hollow heartless thing, for she shows neither fear nor wonder (well, if she wasn't so beautiful, that is, and they were able to focus on something else other than it). But truth is, she is still far too young to know about wealth and royal power, and has seen nothing but blizzard and woman she believes to be greatest sorceress in world. There is nothing yet ingrained in her to respond.

''Inside is your father, the king.'' Now this word sparks something in her, for the queen has judged it the knowledge very important, that she must learn as soon as possible. The girl knows now, that king is the most important man in world, and that if she is to be good she will be his heir and continue to make her mother proud and powerful.

She isn't sure she wants to be powerful. But mother is, and mother wants more, and mother made her so that is probably good.

She also knows what a father is. A male parent, who names you, one whom you have to respect, obey, love... but not as much as mother.

Doors open, and noise hurts but she doesn't yet know how to react. She follows mother's lead, and steps inside.

And rest of world stops for everybody else.

***

''My weregild.'' The mother coos, almost mews as she watches seven little bodies swing on rope, their faces that awful, strange purple people call blue for some reason though it's more of grey and lilac with pinch of black and scarlet, and smile doesn't leave her face, though at one point it grows stale and uncertain.

The princess learns what brothers are only later, when she has learnt enough to recognize guilt for what it is.

She doesn't yet have name for feelings that possess her, the way her stomach churns and turns at sight of those small, rotting bodies (she has never learnt what death was, it had been built in her from before she was an inkling of thought), swaying on wind as ravens come to feast.

Were she just a spell- child, body built and operated by magic, she would have felt nothing. She would have danced and spoke as her maker demanded. Were she a changeling, or just a creature snow and blood and ebony in truth, she would have looked with curiosity, or apathy, and noted how it was unjust, and how petty and strange humans are. And were she truly her mother's daughter, she would have said it was just, for as she had no childhood, so they should be denied to grow old.

But she was neither of those, so she learnt regret.

***

She doesn't like to think about her name. Much less discuss it. If you try to ask her about it, today, well good luck. Hope you will make it out with some teeth intact at least.

She has one name, and hundreds. It is same name, but always so different, like light reflecting off from one snowflake, viewed from different angles. Run away to so many countries, run for so long, and of course it is changed so many times, of course it is translated when she has such dumb name. She hates the original too, but she hates variations even more- what right do they have to change her name, to change anything about her and her damned story? And change it they do, oh yes, cutting off parts and rearranging them, calling her Snowdrop and Snow White and Snežana and Blanche-Neige and Branca de Neve and Albanix and Sneewittchen and Schneewittchen and she can't number them all, snow and whiteness everywhere...

She is well aware that her name is literal and obvious and dumb, and if you ever point it out it won't go well for you. Only once did one person ( a beautiful princess who belongs to death and dreams like her, and almost as much to flowers and briars as she belongs to snow and blood, those daughters of woods and curses), with accidental addition of too much drink, get her to talk about that, and this is what she said.

''Don't know who called me that first. I think it came from some poor bard who burst in songs about me until he died from lack of food and sleep. Detracted from glorifying me, see. Or wait, not a bard, bard's apprentice, about twelve. Might have had some Sight within him. Or it was my father, doesn't matter.

People picked it up because it was only fitting name, see. I couldn't be saddled with normal name, I was above it- and anybody else with that name would forever think of me, and it would never feel right for them. Except that now in some countries they do use my name, or version of it as a normal name so what waste of time, right?

Anyway point is they wanted to call me by something that could properly describe me and Beautiful was far too tacky and Ebony Black weird and Blood Red is just creepy so, here we are! Cheers!

The bitch never called me anything. Just my princess, my dear, my daughter. My, my, my. Always the same shit.'' And of course, this is the lie, though one she prefers to believe.

Truth is, she forgot it. She forgot all names, and only roles remained.

***

The queen did one true kindness to her, because anything else would have been incredibly harmful for her goals, and because she wasn't wholly bereft of morals and reason, and still it hurt.

She had made it, when she cast her spell, when she screamed her wish in reality, when she bargained, that her daughter would have mind befitting her seeming age. Because stupid daughter was useless, and better no child than one that had that kind of problems (queen was biggest supporter of leaving people who were anything less than perfect, or at least acceptable, to die in woods, whether they were loving father gone senile or caring brother whose arm had to be amputated), and because she hated associating with such people- and in her mind, whoever had limping leg or trembling hands, or who had problems with reading or remembering faces was worse than animal, for animals could be useful, and toothless dogs were to be put down.

The girl had barely settled in her new form, though she walked with grace unparalleled and strode with pride and strength only queen herself could outshine, when she began changing and growing. She didn't know how to feel about that, as she wasn't normal girl, and already half way past through puberty, and nobody would ever tease her, or think her anything less but most beautiful creature they had ever seen.

(Creature. A step up from thing.)

Still, it felt strange, and uncomfortable, and very wicked to have her change and grow before she had truly had chance to enjoy her girlhood. The queen, who was very clever, and knew how to nurse man from brink of death as well as she knew how to craft a drink to paralyze an ox for six hours, explained her how everything about her body worked, and how those changes were completely natural, and how she would soon grow taller and how her face would get slimmer and more mature. In fact, she was growing up at same pace as most girls did, and that delighted queen greatly, for woman grown was an enemy, and eternally young girl was useless, and not to mention a great annoyance.

(That was part of why she waited so long, until she was ready to cast her spell. It took time to find information, and to convince everybody she had lost her reason, but she wanted to put it off as far as possible, because raising child was such dull and taxing affair, and she really didn't need additional source of wrinkles.)

The princess had never woken up her parents and nurses in middle of night with her incessant crying. She had never fallen and scraped her knee and broken in hysterics. She had never climbed tree. She had never played ball. She had never been carried in her father's arms. She had never been told bedtime stories. She had never learned to read, or been tutored in counting. Her mother had never explained to her how to comb her hair. She had never had it explained to her how children are born, nor what marriage was. She had never muddied her dress. She had never played with kittens.

(She had never needed to have dying explained to her.)

She wasn't naive (spell-girls built by men often were, inexperience and weakness and dependence of child in an adult body, but her mother had grander, more arrogant fantasies, though no less sick), she wasn't stupid, she wasn't lost. She had grown, and adapted to her world, and soon all things she missed, all knowledge and experience she wasn't born with, granted by magic, became part of her.

But lacuna where her childhood should have been remained, raw and gaping, as if somebody had pulled out all her teeth before she had chance to bite a crust of bread.

***

She learns at her mother's knee.

She learns from her father, of course, because she is made the heir, and she learns history and geography and riding and politics and swordfighting and wielding axe, but it doesn't matter that much. Her father is a pale figure in her life, and ordinary man trembling before her, dead when she is three, and her mother walks through world as if she is above it, and hemlock and lily-of-the-valley grow behind her.

There was much to learn at the queen's feet, even things no child should learn, even things queen never intended to teach her. Part of it was that such were times- in those days castles were small and wooden, and courts less formal and complicated, and queens themselves worked, mending clothes and pulling their weight. It could have lessened them, made them normal women in eyes of their subjects, but her mother knew how to wrap dignity and mystery around herself. She knew how to make people kneel.

Her mother taught her domestic arts, of course. She was good, dutiful wife, and more over not sort of woman who shrank away from her duty and hard work. But more important, she taught her daughter, though girl could never be sure whether by accident or intent, how to look beautiful when doing it, how to look powerful as she spun thread, exalted as she made her own bed. When queen mended her husband's head, he lowered his head and reverently expressed his gratitude.

She taught her spellcraft, by observance at least. It was power that queen couldn't truly have shared with her even if she wanted (and she would have rather sheared her own hair than given up one of her secrets). Her mother was skilled, learned mage, if not particularly powerful by talent alone. She drew her power from gems, herbs, potions, from rings that turned you invisible, cloaks that allowed you to fly, seven mile boots.

Snow White had leanings of witch, it seemed. Hers was power of rituals and motions, of rites and ceremonies, of dances under harvest moon that changed fate of kings, of hair ribbons cut by seven grandmothers over mountain river on which mill was built to make friendship sour... or she would have, had she ever been taught. But she had been made heir, and there was much to learn, and being witch or priestess wouldn't have been good for her (pity, she would have made a good völva, she was pretty sure). She did pick up few things, though, but it was unavoidable.

Blood and mirrors, all she learnt.

***

She wondered what it was that made her beautiful.

Her skin? Her skin, so white that it blinded, white as snow that covered ground swiftly after the last harvests, like snow in which travellers met their demise, like snow that stopped wars. Her skin, which was always smooth and tight and hard, like marble, whose touch was always cool, which didn't grow blue even when she stood wet on roof during whole winter night, which always carried chill of a dead man in itself, even during midsummer.

Her lips? Her lips, with their perfect shape, and their full colour, which never paled or chapped, as if they were painted on, colour of blood seeping from fresh venison, colour of blood gushing from child's cut arteries, lips that tasted of iron and salt and minced flesh, that left bruises on cheeks they kissed, which could withstand warmth of broth just pulled from hearth (though she despised heat to such amount that she felt uneasy to spend more than few hours in room in which fireplace was lit).

Her hair? Her hair, so long and wild, spreading out like crown of ancient tree, slipping down below her waist, and yet somehow it never got tangled up in world around it, slipping like snake through all obstacles, black as ebony, as handles of spears that pierced children, as frames of windows that kept out wind and rain. Left and right it reached, like shadow of branches, like hands of bogeys, and never it got tangled, never did it get torn or weak.

Some said that when she had been growing up, that she had never had to suffer zits, or growth spurts, or ungainly limbs, that she had simply slipped in perfect ladylike adulthood. Others yet said that she suffered all indignities of childhood, of being teenager, and yet she was most beautiful of them all.

She wondered what it was that made people beautiful. There was woman with most stunning purple eyes, like lilac blossoms, like dusk sky, and people agreed she was very beautiful, but were disgusted by sight of her shoulders, filled with short, fat, coarse black hairs. There was tall man, very strong and muscled, in way that would have drawn him much attention, were it not for his crooked yellow teeth, dull chin and broken nose. There were children who had cutest, sweetest faces, with shining eyes and soft lips, who walked with bent backs and reedy fingers. It seemed all very much strange and whimsical and cruel to her, and very much useless and foolish.

She was beautiful. No, she was fair. Were she malnourished and her face slashed and mutilated, were she turned in beast, in worm or featherless bird (those two were equally dreary things, in her mother's opinion) still she would have been the best of them. When she came to doors, though they were closed, inside men waited and stopped breathing, awaiting her. They trailed after her, excited to earn her favour. Still she was a girl, and magic inside her was settling, so she wasn't fairest in the world, but one day wars would be waged for her, because of her, in her name. One day, when she had grown bitter and harsh and so much angrier, at gaze of her people would prostate themselves, and shake from being in same room with her, and they would not sleep, memories muddled and drunk, and in dreams they would swear to her again and again, for fear and love would mingle in one.

Her mother was beautiful, and sorceress, and she had killed and fucked and loved, and she had much gold, and she could make fields prosper and cows miscarry with her spells, and men dreaded her, and respected her, and loved her. Her grandmother called her Freyja made human, and paid for it.

Snow White had been called goddess, and valkyrie, and many more things. And she may have possessed spark of that true, primordial beauty, but she was mortal still. Gods were born and could die but not like men. Snow White breathed, and slept, and she could cut herself, and she could get lost, and she had thrown tantrums before, and were you to cut her throat she would die. She was not a goddess, to rule over skies and dead, at best she was an image, a shadow, a mask, shallow surface layer of divine beauty, not enough to charm stars in kneeling before her, but heavy enough that it crushed her.

(When she was young, she saw her mother's mirror once. It's frame was twisted and strained thing, contorted in ways that were hard to look at, like a dying snake experiencing a seizure. The glass was colour of frozen mercury, and reflection in it wasn't opposite of reality, and sometimes it churned and twisted, making little waves, and always it whispered.

Most people stayed away from it, and even the queen couldn't bear to be too long in room with it, but the princess was drawn to it, like iron to magnet.

''Oh. You are like me.'' Whispered the mirror, in toneless voice that echoed in her head, and it pulsed like heart, and writhed like worms in waves, and sighed as she put her cold fingers over it's surface, neither chill nor warm.)

***

It was easy to become a king, she learnt. You had to be born a prince, or earn king's favour, or lie to enough people so they would bow to you, or kill enough of them, preferably previous king too. All in all, it seemed very stupid and unfair to Snow White, who didn't really get why people needed kings, but said nothing because she knew what was appropriate, and because she was raised to inherit kingdom and didn't really think of how unjust it was outside of random musings.

It wasn't easy to become a queen, no matter what some thought and said. Any woman could be married to king, depending on how picky he was, and how much politics demanded from him, and how much he disrespected her rights. But only few became queens, true rulers, because they were taught not to seek respect and power, because they were beaten back, because game was set against them, because they were declawed and defanged and chained since earliest age, because they were taught to find pride and comfort in being silenced and starved. It took certain rare amount of cleverness and stubbornness and dedication, and, perhaps, ruthlessness, to become queen.

But Snow White didn't have to worry about that. Her mother loved her, and worked hard to ensure that her daughter would never have to go through all the trouble and misery she had to dredge through, and still she would get so much more. It was so hard for her poor mother, after all, to stand and suggest her idea to the king as he was busy being enraptured by his daughter.

How could he refuse her? How could he name anybody else but his most incredible daughter as his heir (the queen gritted her teeth), how could he dishonour her by not offering her everything he had? And would not people rebel if anybody else ruled them, would not enemies beg to be stricken down by her? So he thought, and declared, and people were outraged and shocked until they had seen her, and then ambassadors returned to their kings weeping, telling them they have been become traitors, for never could their hearts belong to anybody but queen Snow White.

Thus, thought it was expected that she would be married, for that is what normal people did, and beauty didn't prevent people from grumbling when they weren't near her, there was never much pressure for that, and everybody understood that no man would be worthy of her, and all would be blessed to have her as bride, and they would only be consorts, never kings.

It was taken for granted that there would be no problem finding suitors for her, aside from possibly having to deal with wars that rejected suitors would bring to their footsteps ( something that would easily be dealt with, not only because the king was good warrior, and the queen even better sorceress, but because any invader would have to carve their path through whole nation of berserkers ready to die for their princess, and even more ready to tear apart any who would dare to try to steal her away). It was also taken for granted that king would have to pay no dowry, and that indeed princes would be ones bleeding their people dry in hopes of winning her over.

As was only proper, the queen had been one to choose her son-in-law, for the princess had asked her so, for her mother had assured her countless times of how much she cared, how smart she was, and how much more experienced, and she would be able to choose only the best for her dear daughter, a man whose kingdom would always provide for her, a man who would be her age and always kind to her, for those were hefty favours to ask in marriage, her mother told her. Kind husband was something you had to earn, as the queen did, but since she was such kind mother and her daughter so special, she would get all the spoils without any work.

And truly, the queen chose well. Prince was the same (apparent) age as Snow White, and he was sole heir of nearby kingdom, richer and greater than one her father ruled (so greater that only thing that kept it from swallowing up their home, aside from their king's courtesy, was the queen, who knew all plans and desires of their neighbours, and could hold off the harvest and spring for years). He was said to be canny but honest, and rather good with sword and bow but pleasant, never one to seek out bloodshed. He was honourable and fair, and though well liked by ladies, hadn't dishonoured even one.

It sounded like bullshit to her, to be honest. Even her father, who was fair and wise, had his moments- he loved brawl, especially when he broke somebody's bones. And Snow White, well, she kept herself away from people, and never harmed anybody (but never helped out either), and still she had cruelty built in down to smallest piece of herself. Still, there were no whispers, no juicy gossip, and mirror found nothing unsatisfying and dangerous about him (for her mother would never lend her greatest treasure to somebody who would damage it), and so it was that Snow White was to be engaged.

The princess had met his parents, once or twice, for they sometimes rode out near borders of her country, and she had scried them, once she learnt where she was to be wed, in bronze mirror she had and rarely used for anything else. The king was thin, wiry man, with wild graying beard and wry voice, covered in pale old scars, and missing few teeth, and otherwise utterly unremarkable. His wife, a merchant's daughter they said he married for love, was short and warm woman, as sweet and well beloved as fat, greased meal in late autumn, with face as round as apple and eyes like chestnuts, or so flatterers said.

The prince was very handsome, they said. He was of fine face and figure, strong and healthy, with teeth that were nearly white, and warm eyes like amber, with flickers of gold inside it. His skin was of warm, ruddy tone, and he moved with energetic, dangerous strength and grace, as if he had fire inside himself. With his auburn hair, like wood in fall, and his clothes, all gold and russet, he was said to be as beautiful as sunrise.

He wasn't, and she envied him for that. She envied them all, him for his ordinary beauty, his mother for her soft, sweet features, his father for being unremarkable and gray.

( Snow White was a human girl, and so she was often prey to all misfortunes that plagued them, even teen woes. But as wrapped up in magic and mystery as she was, even that had to be unusual.

Truth is, Snow White is envious of everybody. There isn't a single face, single body she doesn't desire more than hers. She desires form that some would find boring, nothing special, perhaps even funny or repulsive. She envies her mother's fallen rival, her father's former lady, her brother's mother, for she is famous for her eyes as blue as sea, but princess finds neither salt nor waves nor fishes nor thousand shades and forms of water in them. She envies the cook's apprentice, for though she is known as very attractive woman, and it brings her trouble occasionally, she can talk to her brothers without them shaking with glee as they look at her. She envies her prince's mother, who is loved and respected for reasons that have nothing to do with beauty.

She has had her fair share of crushes, never acted on because they weren't appropriate for somebody of her status, because her mother wouldn't be satisfied with her choice, because they couldn't stop drooling when she passed. And so they all died, candle flames extinguished before they were anything more than a spark, leaving her to choke on guilt and longing and bitterness, to suffocate in impossible, petty desires.

She had never desired anybody because of their looks. She couldn't, because she had never been able to perceive beauty in people, because she had herself to rate them against. She looked at finest examples of human beauty and found thousand flaws, looked at them and saw how artificial it was, how dependent on right time and place and taste. Snow White could be skinned alive and have her bones broken and her head split open and covered in dirt and yet anywhere in world they would proclaim her the most beautiful.

But she couldn't be loved or desired. She was too stark and sharp and terrible for that. She wasn't a girl whose hand you could hold, woman who you could lay against, a person to hug and kiss and laugh with. Everything in her was hard and cold, like ice sculpture. She was there to be looked at, not loved. Because even as humans adored beautiful people, they didn't love ones who had truly been beautiful.

Human beauty was shallow, false and thin. All humans were equally beautiful, and they just had to work more or less on convincing others to find them attractive. But Snow White bore true beauty, heavy as mountain, truer than her father's blade. Primordial, essential, actual, her beauty was a true, divine thing, real and defined in mutable, shapeless world of human misconceptions. She was a marble statue trapped among embroidered caricatures, and she envied them so much.)

So she held no hopes, and received a grand surprise. For though her prince's eyes seemed ready to fall out of his skull, and bliss sparkled in them as tears gathered on edges, after some time he composed himself and gave her warm, cocky smile, and bowed and kissed her hand and talked with her.

They talked. They rode on horses. He laughed at her embroidery. She rolled eyes at his jokes. They showed each other their favourite hiding places. They sparred with hands and swords. He lost to her in race and she in archery. They walked in woods and put their knowledge of animals and herbs to trial. She learnt that he was truly as good and honest as he was rumoured to be, but easily bored, and he could get lost daydreaming, and loved to go sight seeing, and fussed too much about his clothes. He learnt that she liked to forage berries, and kept falcons, and hated jewellery, and was horrible dancer. They had even argued few times!

She fell in love with him, a little. Enough that they kept contact when she ran away. Enough that he wanted to expose queen's crimes. Enough that he wanted to give her honour of burial. Enough that when he died, she walked away.

Enough that he said nothing, when she commissioned shoes for her mother.

('' I wish he'd at least pretend to treat me like person.'' She had whispered, standing alone in his father's corridors, and when she met him she believed he was somehow immune to her beauty , that he saw person underneath.

''Stop with that!'' She shouted, when men offered her their hearts, and they did, and only later she noticed that some people adored her in quiet, steadfast way, no less terrible but much subtler, because they didn't want to die for her, they wanted to serve her.

''I love you.'' She told him, and of course he said yes, of course he loved her, he had to, even as he laid dying, and years later she kept wondering whether she imagined something russet and golden running at end of corridors.)

***

When she is queen, she will keep her chambers bare.

Everything about her will be bare, and simple, and cold. They will say, her husband’s people, when they are far away from her, that it is because she comes from colder, humbler, more barbarian kingdom that she is unused to fine luxury (she likes simple things because she spent so much time in the woods, they say, not understanding how rich, how elaborate, how beautiful everything was there, roots mingling and binding each other in knotwork, impossible shapes in bark, flowers worth more than jewels everywhere around her.)

There will be no excess, no luxury in her sanctuary. No tapestries, no costly furniture, no mirrors. Only bare, chill stone and bed to uphold a minor illusion of normalcy ( a girl of ice and death born, she has slept on Forest floor, and dreamed in mines, and slumbered in coffin of glass and gold). No satin, no velvet, no silk, no gowns or embroidery or crown, for she has no need of them.

No jewellry. Nobody will again tell her she is as precious as gems at her throat.

***

She doesn't dream. She remembers. She remembers memories that are not hers, lodged in between her flesh and bones.

She remembers winter. Always, always it is with her, more crucial than breath, than her name, almost as important as her beauty. She remembers cold of Niflheimr and of coming of first spring. She remembers snowflakes forming in clouds and melting on human faces, the mountain tips lined with white, the ice covering pines, the frost on abandoned blades, the rime that gathers at hem of lost shawls, the chill creeping over river's stones, the snowdrops rising from forming poodles, the crunch of frozen ground as her mother goes to border of Forest.

She remembers having bark, which protected her from rain, and wind, from cold and bugs. She remembers having roots, digging through soil, pulling water and minerals from ground, reaching out to taste sunlight. She remembers how it felt when sap coursed through her, her branches swaying on wind, her leaves remaining green even in winter as those of her neighbours turned brown and red and fell, remembers feeding on rotting flowers and grass caressing her trunk, the seeds falling and spreading, birds making nest in her crown, the queen's knife cutting branches off, off, off.

She remembers being warm, and flowing, being inside the veins. She remembers being child crying for parents lost to plague, the leper cast out of town, the old woman begging for scraps. She remembers warm, concerned voices of mothers who aren't hers, remembers being father, and having gray hair, and being hungry, and told she is ugly (in waking world she cannot imagine that feeling bad, but in dream it is, remembers childhoods that aren't hers. She remembers being scared of bleeding, being cold, and queen saving her/him/them, of being servants and obeying all her wishes, being trusted, and she remembers the blade, the curse, flowing over figure made out of snow until it turns pink, staining and clotting upon ebony talismans.

She dreams of hands upon her throat, and dying, and melting, losing everything, going to no hall, rejoining earth and water and coldness, and it is so peaceful that she almost regrets when she wakes up...

These are terrors that follow her in her dreams. In waking world, she cannot escape seven boys, running after her like most loyal dogs, begging to serve her.

***

At edge of every kingdom there is Forest.

There is difference between a forest and the Forest, just as there is difference between beautiful person and Snow White. The first is just bunch of trees and animals, which, perhaps bit scary at night, can be cut down and cleared away. But the Forests, are so much more, existing outside of civilized world, thinking and feeling and hungering, holding darkness and treasures and monsters within. Place where secrets are born, where miracles go to die, where Quests are done.

The Forests don't like people. They say that Forests were forged from Ymir's dying curse, and therefore there is terrible, chaotic power in them. Thousands of years ago, they marched against them, marched against whole world, and in three days humanity was crushed. For the Forests were grown before intelligent life came to be, and they despised men and their accomplishments. And so no weapon, no spell, no thing made by mortal hands held power within Forests. The strongest sorcerers were rendered powerless, and sharpest blade failed to cut.

It waits for her. Castle where she grew was far away from Forests, so far away that you couldn't even see it on horizon, even as a dark line, but Snow White felt it every day. Being a human girl, somewhat, she didn't know how to feel about it, and sometimes she could ignore it so well that she forgot it's existence, and sometimes it occupied all her thoughts.

(Were she only a spell-child, she would have noticed nothing. Were she a changeling, each day she would have felt same, and knew exact reason why. But mortal she was, and thus she was plagued with uncertain heart.)

Whether she wants or not, someday she will go to the Forest. Things like her must, just as snow must fall. She is too strange and cursed, even for a world full only of witches. She is meant for legends, and some tale will dig it's claws in her, and every tale has it's beginnings in Forest, even ones who have nothing to do with them. And she dreads when that day comes, because in Forest no spell can last, and what shall happen to her then?

(They are at her mother's hidden halls, as they are at every of her birthdays. She is seven, but to rest of the world she is twenty. She rides out, and huntsman accompanies her.

She is always accompanied by somebody, of course, because she must be protected, because always there is danger she would be kidnapped, for who wouldn't want to possess her? The huntsman is young, and good looking, or so she supposes. To her he looks like washed out, boring bunch of bones and flesh, but other girls say he is handsome, and to his misfortune queen agrees. But he is young, and he wants to live, and he is smart, but he has got conscience and she is so beautiful, that he breaks down and confesses everything.

A mother willing to kill her own daughter, and eat her intestines. Sounds horrible, but once they spend some time with princess people understand, even if they believe she was born like them. To live alongside somebody so beautiful, to be outshined while you grew older, weaker, as death came closer, that was horrible enough, but knowledge that nothing you ever do will help you come even closer to impossible ideal that is Snow white is horrible enough. Nobody could live with her, no more than they could gaze in Sun for years.

And besides, beauty like that, it doesn't belong to this world, doesn't come from it, and as such isn't meant to exist there. Beauty like that, it is meant for higher, greater places, not this dreary, low world. It is meant to be a tragedy, a warning, something to mourn for forever even if we never had it. Girls like that, they exist to be beautiful corpses, because no matter what they say, it doesn't matter because nobody will care for anything else but their faces, so this way they do favour to everybody. You can't blame the queen, they say, and after all, makes sense for one who created her to be one to get rid of her.

For first time in her measly seven years of life, Snow White understands how her mother thinks. And she knows what will happen were she to face her.

She turns, and runs in heart of the Forest, in darkness, because it's monsters are at least honest.)

***

She is five hundred and sixty three years old when she sacrifices first child to escape.

Oh, not in usual sense, not yet anyway (it will be little bit longer before she drags children to crossroads at midnight and spills their blood and cooks their hearts to buy escape). Of course, she has killed young people, and somebody's children before, some of them her own descendants, but she has never sacrificed any child. She hasn't taken something innocent and powerless and blameless and cut it's life short to buy few more seconds, because that isn't how story goes. people tell it, and they believe, and souls are dragged from death to relieve it. And hers is simplest story. The queen is powerful, and she desires her death, and Snow White runs until she is caught and put in glass coffin, and then everything begins anew.

She has lived near village for some seven years by then, wrapped up in shawls and masks, because even though it doesn't stop people from gazing in awe it stops them from kneeling, because they only feel her beauty, don't see true miracle of her face. She has kept out of troubles, and even worked in mines so help the village, and she has scried lost children and horses in ice and coins, and brought them home from deep dark woods. And yet, man whose broken leg she healed heard rumours, and connected dots, and went in wide world to tell the queen. And what could she do, but take off her shawls and masks and go down, as they parted before her, as they knelt, and drag his only daughter from her home with but a smile.

''You did a cruel, horrible thing. You were hurting, and you wanted to settle accounts, so you decided to be unfair as well. it didn't help you in the end, but you decided destroying something small and blameless will make you feel better.'' The old, ugly woman with burned face and shadowed hood, dressed in grey and russet tells her, as they hide in cave, as she tends Snow White's wounds and ignores her beauty, as she holds her even as death tries to drag her down. Snow White ignores it- the world had walked over, broken and spat out Cinderella, letting her be nothing but slave, nothing but ceaseless, unpaid servant, nothing but role assigned by her story. She doesn't understand revenge because she has no hope, no happiness, no way out from her life, but Snow White won't be broken like that. Snow White will be strong for them both.

''Do you love me? Do you dare think you are worthy of sight of me? Prove it to me!'' She roars, cackles, smirks as traitor cries, as lighting races from her mother's shining rings, and girl cries and nods, laughs and bows and jumps in front of blazing magic to protect the fairest thing in the world.

For @slavicwitchling ‘s birthday, hope you like it my dear. Sequel to this drabble.

#character:snow white #Story:Snow White #fairy tale retelling #fantasy

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