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amourology · 2 years

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𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊 | 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | jj maybank x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | cursing, mentions of domestic abuse, sad jj, y/n fucks a bitch up. idk i wrote this girl as, like, the stereotypical mean girl and the feminist in me hates that i wrote her that way :(

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | y/n had been there to take care of jj’s wounds ever since discovering they shared the same secret spot. when she doesn’t show up for the first time ever, jj goes out of his mind. especially when she finally returns, except this time she’s the one covered in bruises.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | thank u so so much liane ( @pogueslandia ) for helping me shape this fic, it definitely wouldn’t be the same without u <3 — and sasha ( @mrs-cameron ) for making me realize it’s okay to write other stuff, too <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.8k.

Ever since she was little, Y/N had taken to abandoned places. Whether it were playgrounds, houses, graveyards, or churches - she didn’t care. All she knew was that the locations gave her something hard to come by within her household; some much needed silence. With her parents lingering on the edge of a divorce, though never going through with it for the sake of appearances, a quiet moment for oneself was seldom granted.

Eventually she’d stopped waiting for the shouting to dial down, stopped wincing at the slamming of doors, and had simply chosen to leave whenever she felt another fight bubbling up - which is how she came to discover her favorite spot in the entirety of the Outer Banks.

A church. Abandoned, half-torn down, and whenever she went there she couldn’t help but think its outside appearance closely resembled that of her current mental state.

Despite its ragged appearance, it had become the place Y/N was most comfortable in. Specifically the upstairs, on the windowsill that gave her the perfect position to look out of the enormous glass-stained windows and tune the screams of her parents out for just a few hours.

Which is where she found herself once again, curled up on the old wooden space and tucked underneath the thick blanket she’d hidden there for whenever a particularly cold winter night decided to accompany her. Y/N sat there, staring out the window and fiddling with the necklace around her throat as a nervous habit.

The peace and tranquility she’d found herself in got abruptly interrupted by the slightest of sounds. With her first reaction being the one of freezing up and wishing for it to go away, she had to tell herself not to be such a wimp and forced the stiffness away from her limbs.

Ever so slowly, Y/N got up - careful not to step onto the planks she knew would creak. She placed the blanket back into the box she’d previously stored it in, and brought herself towards the wooden ladder a good ten meters away from her. With the size of the church, it was a miracle she’d been able to make out the sounds from such a distance.

One of her hands found their grip on the ladder’s handle, and she leaned the slightest bit over the edge, waiting, listening for whatever - whoever - was down there. She prayed they didn’t have any bad intentions.

Guess that’s what I get for hanging out in an abandoned church, she grumbled to herself. Perhaps she needed to rethink her hiding spots.

Still, she pushed that thought to the back of her mind for now. Listening in on whatever the individual underneath her was doing was deemed more important.

A long silence ensued. She frowned, and was just about to leave when she heard the softest of sniffles echo through the room. The sounds of sadness tugged at her heartstrings, so much so that she decided upon climbing down the ladder to see what was going on - all previous fear thrown out of the window.

When she made it down, her eyes fell on the broad back of a blond boy. He seemed to have been occupied with a bandage he’d tried wrapping around his knuckles, which was probably why he didn’t hear the slight noises she made while coming down.

“Do you need some help?” Y/N spoke softly.

The boy in front of her flinched, dropping the bandage onto the altar he’d been standing in front of. “Jesus, fuck,” he cursed, turning around, eyes wide as he looked around for the supposed intruder. “How did you-” He looked towards the door, finding it just as closed as he left it.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, and walked towards him. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I just,” she paused, taking a look at the freshly fallen tears on his face. “I, uh, I come here a lot and I - I heard you…” The boy looked down, knowing the final word before she even said it. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

The blond shrugged, and went back to his bandages. A silence covered the both of them, and, despite it being what she came here for, was not what she’d hoped for at the moment.

Y/N stayed where she stood for a few seconds, watching the boy struggling wrapping the bandage around - what she assumed to be - his dominant hand, as he probably wouldn’t have had such a difficult time if it wasn’t.

“Here,” she said. “Could I?”

She got closer to him, taking the space at his side. He was a good bit taller than her, and she felt her knees getting just the slightest bit weaker at the deep blue color of his eyes. And even through his battered state, with a busted lip, a bruise forming underneath his eye and knuckles covered in blood - he looked ethereal. Y/N truly wondered whether he belonged in the church.

With a small smile, she held her hands out for him. “My mom’s a doctor,” she offered. “Seen her do this countless times when I was young.”

Hesitantly, he gave her his bloodied hand. “Been in a lot of fights as a kid?” He asked, with just the slightest tilt of his lips.

Y/N shook her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek in amusement. “No,” she said, and reached for the supplies he’d strown about the altar. “But I was very rambunctious, and fell out of my tree house a lot.”

“Rambunctious,” he whistled under his breath, nodding. The slight edge of resentment didn’t go unnoticed. “Expensive word.”

She paused her movements to raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I supposed to be offended by that?”

“What? No,” he said, blinking quickly and shaking his head. “No, no, I just - I didn’t - It makes you sound smart. You’re probably…” He sighed, closing his eyes as he gathered himself. “I’m sorry. I’m still in a fighting mood.”

Y/N smiled, now focused again on patching the stranger up as best as she could. “‘S okay,” she mumbled underneath her breath. She reached for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab, putting a bit of the liquid on. “This might sting a bit.”

“I know,” he said.

It made her wonder how he knew. “Alright,” she said instead of asking.

Y/N placed the disinfectant on the wound, and felt how his muscles tensed up a bit underneath her fingers. Still, he didn’t let a sound escape him. Wishing to help him as quickly as she could, she decided against conversing with him further.

“There,” she said eventually, smiling up at him as she let go of his hand.

He nodded at her gratefully, glancing down at his perfectly bandaged knuckles. “Huh,” he chuckled, turning his hand around to look at her handy work. “This is way better than all the half-ass jobs I’ve done.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks?”

“Could you-” He interrupted himself, not sure whether he was in a position to ask her for more. She’d done plenty already, he figured.

“Of course,” she cut off his train of thought. “You, uh, may have to sit down, though, I can’t reach you otherwise.”

The blond smiled. “Right, yes, no problem.”

Y/N watched as he happily sat down on the altar, and contemplated whether she was going to stand in between his legs or to his side - eventually she decided upon the latter, as he was still a stranger, one she didn’t even know the name of.

“I’m JJ, by the way,”

Alright, then, just a regular stranger that she now does know the name of. “I’m Y/N.” She answered, once again starting her work on his wounds.

“Y/N,” JJ repeated, nodding along. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, too focused on attending to the cuts on his face to notice the way his eyes roamed freely across her figure.

The quiet that surrounded them seemed to unnerve him, and JJ started his jittering movements by bumping one of his legs up and down. It wasn’t until a couple of minutes had passed, and Y/N had finished taking care of the cut on his lips, that he finally broke and spoke up.

“Where did you come from?” He blurted out.

“What?” She asked, frowning just a bit.

JJ cleared his throat. “I closed the door.” He explained. “And you were just - there. Right behind me.”

“Oh,” the girl answered. She narrowed her eyes to inspect the bruise forming on his cheekbone. “I was upstairs. I come here frequently, usually whenever my parents are fighting again.”

“Oh, I’m - I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, giving her a sad look.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You get used to it after five years.” Pulling back from their close proximity, Y/N glanced at the first aid kit. “You don’t happen to have an ice pack in there, do you?”

“Uh, no, no, I do not,” JJ spoke quickly. “It’s fine, though, the swelling will go down in a few, anyway.”

Y/N opened her mouth to ask, though closed it just as quickly. Hesitant, but still curious, she decided to take her chances and ask what she wanted to regardless. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but,” she paused. “How do you know that stuff so well?”

The first alarm bell went off when he seemed to have been familiar with the feeling of rubbing alcohol. And the second one went off just a few seconds ago, when he discarded the upcoming bruise with such nonchalance. If she didn’t watch out, Y/N would find herself becoming seriously worried for the boy she met not even an hour ago.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged, giving her the best smile he could muster up at the moment. “I just...get into fights a lot.”

Still not convinced, but not quite sure whether it was her place to pry, Y/N nodded. “Right,” she said with a nod. “Well, just make sure you put something on it when you get home, okay? Just to be sure.”

JJ nodded, and gave her a salute. “Will do, ma’am.” She rolled her eyes at him, in which he gave her a grin in return. He jumped off of the altar and turned around, facing her. “Next time you come to my spot, though, don’t sneak up on me, please. Gave me quite the scare.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Your spot?”

“Yeah,” JJ said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I think you mean my spot,” she corrected him.

JJ shrugged, scratching a spot behind his ear. “No, no, I don’t think I do.”

“I found it first,” she argued.

“Did you, though?” He questioned, his demeanour changing into one of doubt. “It’s a big place, maybe I just slipped right past ya.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side, and knew he was full of shit. “Right.” She muttered, sighing shortly after.

The blond’s shit-eating grin fell rather quickly after noticing her walking towards the exit. “Hey, where—where are you going?” He called out.

Y/N stopped, turning back around to face him. “Home?” She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? Come on, don’t be like that!” The blond shouted after her, seeing her continue her walk home. “We can share! Just ask very, very nicely!”

The only thing Y/N gave him before leaving was a quick show of her middle finger, a gesture that earned her the first of many laughs JJ was to give her.

Y/N had, by no means, ever asked him nicely since then - yet, they still ended up sharing the space with one another. Each and every evening they’d wander towards the abandoned church, finding comfort in the other’s presence, laughter, embrace.

After much tugging and whining on JJ’s part, the boy even managed to convince her to share her fluffy blanket with him on a cold night. They’d spend the evening huddled together underneath the blanket, sometimes watching a movie on Y/N’s laptop, other times talking about the stuff going on in their lives.

“You can’t possibly tell me she’s going to win that case,” JJ had argued, bottom lip puffed out as he stared at the screen in front of them.

Y/N, having seen the movie countless times before, smirked and turned around in his grasp to face him. “Of course she is, she’s Elle Woods.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he’d responded, tightening his hold on her when he heard her laugh.

Other times were...less joyful. As they’d often consist of JJ stumbling through the door accompanied by one or more injuries all over his body. His previous excuse of ‘just getting into a lot of fights,’ watered down over time, until he eventually opened up about his father.

It had been a heavy night, with the blue-eyed boy sobbing into the crook of her neck, and the girl doing everything she could at consoling him.

“I just - I can’t take him anymore, I didn’t do anything, I just,” he’d choked on a sob, his arms tightening around her figure and bringing them impossibly close together.

“I know, love, I know,” she’d mumbled softly, caressing his back delicately while carefully tangling her fingers through his hair.

That was the first night they’d spend together sleeping in the church, with Y/N texting her parents she’d stay over at a friend’s. JJ had fallen asleep on her chest somewhere between his cries, and she couldn’t even think about waking him up after that.

Their relationship hit a turning point after that. Though, one thing stayed the same. Each time JJ would come to her when his father lost control again, when he needed help. And each time she’d be there, ready to patch him up and put him back together in more ways than one.

Until one day, JJ came back to an empty church.

“Y/N?” He called out, the door making a creaking noise behind him as it closed. Upon the lack of an answer, he tried again. “You here, sunshine? My pops went ape-shit again,” he added a dry chuckle before clearing his throat. “Right, sorry, shouldn't joke about that. Know you hate it when I do.”

Nothing. Pure silence greeted him, and after checking the upstairs area, he decided that she must’ve been held up and would meet him in a few.

JJ brought himself towards the altar, struggling to put the first-aid kit up onto the wooden platform with just one hand. “Might as well start,” he mumbled to himself, wincing as he took a good look at himself through the little mirror within the box.

With Y/N around to take care of him, his previous skills at patching himself up had faded a bit which resulted in a clumsily wrapped bandage around his hand. It probably took him twice as long as it would’ve taken her, but eventually he was done - and still, there was no sign of the girl.

By now, night had fallen and it was pitch black outside. JJ frowned, she’d never been this late before. He glanced at his phone, cursing at himself in his head for not asking her phone number sooner.

Still hopeful she might show up soon, the boy laid down onto the spot they’d created together - a cozy corner with battery-filled fairy lights, a bunch of pillows, her ridiculously thick blanket and a mattress he’d managed to swindle from a guy that knew his cousin Ricky.

It wasn’t much, but it felt more like home in these past months than his actual home ever would.

The gut-wrenching realization that she never showed didn’t hit him until the next morning, when he woke up alone, with the blanket covering him entirely as she wasn’t there to steal it away from him. The fairy lights had died and needed new batteries because he’d fallen asleep before turning them off.

If he hadn’t made plans with the pogues, he would’ve stayed there and waited for her. But, as it happens, he had, and so he had to come back tonight.

Just before leaving, JJ scribbled something on a little post it note and placed it onto the pillow that Y/N claimed as hers - just in case she showed up.

She didn’t.

And she didn’t show the day after, either.

Nor the day after that.

By then it had been three days since he’d last seen her, and he’d be lying if he said his worries weren’t through the roof. Y/N told him about her parents, about the fights, the upcoming divorce, what if something had happened?

Or what if nothing happened. What if she just decided to stop coming? What if she just left him?

A hand waving in front of his face snapped him out of his thoughts. “Yo, you good man?” John B asked, a frown on his forehead as he looked at him.

JJ took a deep breath, eyes roaming around all the people that showed up at the kegger, and decided. “I need a drink.”

He needed more than just a drink. He needed multiple, he decided. And so he drank, and drank, and drank, until he lost the ability to think straight. He drank, and drank, and drank until he found himself pushing a random girl he’d snatched away from her friends against the tree.

Her lips were harshly pressed against his as they sought a distraction in one another, and it was working for him - until her hands reached towards his hair.

JJ felt the hold he had on her waist waver as he felt her roughly tugging at the ends of his blond locks, no gentleness, no care, no love in it whatsoever - nothing like Y/N would have done.

Y/N. This wasn’t her. He needed her, not some - some random Kook that wanted him for a quick fuck.

All his previous thoughts came rushing back into his head, and he shook his head, blinking away a soft layer of tears that had started to gather. “I can’t.” He said firmly, pushing himself away from the girl. “You’re not - I - I have to go.”

“What?” She exclaimed, a scoff escaping her lips as she watched him walk away. “I’m not what, Maybank!”

JJ threw one of his hands up at her slight outburst. “Y/N. You’re not-” he shook his head, hating himself for saying her name. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Just - I have to go.”

The Kook let out a sound of offence. “Loser,” she spat under her breath, and went back towards the party.

He would’ve heard the insult if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with rushing towards the church. The only thing he allowed himself to do before leaving was sending his friends a quick text, making up some excuse about having to work tomorrow. He doubted they’d believe him being so responsible, but that was a worry for another time.

All he knew was that he needed her, and if he couldn’t be with her, then their spot would do for now.

So, JJ left, and felt his heart falling to his stomach upon the lack of her presence once again. A soft sniffle left his mouth, the worry about her and the possible worst-case scenarios he made up in his head finally got to him.

The boy curled himself into the blanket, laying his head down on her pillow and inhaling the almost faded scent of her perfume. She will be here tomorrow, he told himself.

She had to.

...Right?

Y/N never thought her parents would actually go through with it. They’d threatened one another with it countless times before, but never had they actually done it. Her past days spent in the courthouse were quick to change her mind, however.

Everything around her felt like a blur; her thoughts, her feelings, even her vision when they’d get clouded with tears. With what had to have been the worst three days of her life behind her, she couldn’t help but look forward to tonight. Tonight, when she’d finally (after days of going in and out of court and going straight to sleep when she got home) be able to go to their church.

Y/N hadn’t noticed how much she missed JJ and his comforting presence until she suddenly found herself without it.

But, first things first; she had to get through this day at the beach with her friends. After that, she could sneak away and reunite with the boy who’d been on her mind non-stop ever since she met him.

“I got it!” She yelled, running as fast as one could while standing on warm sand. With a loud huff, Y/N passed the volleyball back over the net - smiling when the opposing team failed at sending it back.

“You’re slow as shit, John B,” the curly-haired girl they were playing against grumbled, throwing the guy next to her a look.

“Wha - she threw that thing at me with lightning speed. How is that my fault?”

“To be fair, you were out of position there, man.”

“Not helping, Pope.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle at the bickering of the three, glancing between her own two friends who were waiting on their next move. “So,” she called out, a slight challenge to her voice. “What do you guys say, two out of three?”

The guy she’d identified as John B looked at her, one of his eyebrows raised as he held a non-verbal conversation with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, we can do two out of three,” he said eventually.

Pope - the only one out of the three she’d seen before, as she and him shared a biology class and he’d been her labpartner - raised one of his hands, slightly bent over as he rested them both on his thighs.

“Yeah, I - uh, I’mma need a minute,” he breathed heavily, glancing at Y/N. “You really kicked my ass there.”

Y/N and her friends laughed, nodding. “Alright, let’s take a break then,” Ivy spoke from beside her, and all six of them stepped off of the makeshift volleyball court.

Just as she was about to lay back down onto her towel, Y/N heard a group of girls walking past - and if it weren’t for his name being dropped, she probably wouldn’t have tuned in to listen.

“I’m serious, that JJ guy every girl talks about? Not all that great. I finally got the chance to hook up with him, and, Evie, he is nowhere near close as to how you described him,” the red-head complained, a slight sign of disgust mixed with a major amount of annoyance on her face. “We were, like, really getting it on last night, so I was worked up, obviously, and then this fucking loser just starts crying out of nowhere, pushing me away and blabbering about some nonsense.”

A brunette next to her laughed. “That’s so pathetic. Who cries in the middle of a hook up?” she chuckled. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Ellis.”

Y/N clenched her jaw at the conversation, and got up from the towel she was seated on. She could briefly make out her friend, Meredith, throwing a soft ‘where are you going?’ her way before she started nearing the girl.

“Right!” She spoke again. “Honestly, what a-”

“Excuse me,” Y/N interrupted her, tapping her on the shoulder. As soon as Ellis turned around, she pulled her arm backwards and let her fist collide with her nose. “Shit, motherfucker,” she cursed as soon as she did so, cradling her knuckles.

No wonder JJ’s knuckles were always bruised. That punch hurt like a bitch.

Ellis had fallen to the ground, her hands immediately reaching upwards to her nose. “What the fuck!” She screeched, looking up at Y/N who’d been standing over her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N,” Ivy whispered after running over to her, seemingly in shock at the sudden punch her friend had thrown. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Y/N?” The girl she’d punched muttered, so much envy seeping through her voice it would make the seven deadly sins jealous. With as much might as she could muster, she pushed herself up from the sand. “You’re the bitch he was crying about.”

“What?” Y/N asked, a soft, worrying frown appearing on her forehead. Though, it didn't stay there for long - as the red-head harshly tackled her to the ground.

A loud huff escaped her lips as she fell, Ellis landing on top of her. Quickly, Y/N twisted her leg away from under her, resulting in them switching positions. She tugged harshly on her red hair, a feeling of satisfaction flowing through her veins at seeing her struggle - though, the feeling was short lived as she soon felt a harsh punch to the side.

“You fucking asshole,” she cursed under her breath, letting go of her hair at the stinging pain in her side. The feeling of rage got intensified by receiving an elbow to the nose. Feeling the blood drip out of it, Y/N scoffed. “You know what?” She spoke, and harshly punched the girl in the boob.

A loud gasp escaped her mouth and immediately all grasp she had on Y/N got released, both friend groups scrambled to collect their respective friend and did all they could to prevent them from getting at the other again.

“Okay, okay, atta girl, calm down,” Ivy mumbled, pulling Y/N away from the girl she’d just attacked. “I think she got the message.”

Meredith hurried over as well, both girls having a steady hold on their, still very much angry, friend. “Yeah, let’s go, okay?”

“Fine,” Y/N huffed, her breathing erratic as she wiped a bit of blood away from her nose.

Just as she turned around to leave, she heard Ellis speak up again. “She punched me in the tits, Evie!” She exclaimed, a slight tremble to her voice. “Do you know how much they cost? What if she ruined them?”

Y/N halted in her step, contemplating her next actions for just a second. Then, she turned back around.

“I hope I did.”

The last thing she gave her before her friends dragged her away, was a proudly presented gesture of her middle finger.

While they left the beach, she could vaguely hear the voices of the people she’d played volleyball with just a few minutes ago.

“What the hell,”

“Who - why did she?”

“Beats me,” someone chuckled. “But I’m glad she did, certainly saved me a fight.”

It had taken quite some convincing for Ivy and Meredith to leave. As kind as they were, Y/N was quite eager to take care of her injuries by herself - preferably in a church, and even more so preferably with a certain blond at her side.

So here she was, snuck away from home once again, limping because Ellis fucked up her ankle in that tackle, with a blasting pain in her side, aching knuckles and dried blood underneath her nose. What a sight for sore eyes she must have been.

Y/N couldn’t contain the sigh of relief when she finally got to the church. An even bigger one left her mouth when she finally managed to push the door open, despite her aching body. The sight that met her there was enough to tug at her heartstrings.

There he was, the boy she hadn’t come to see for three days, asleep, cuddled underneath her blanket and with his head firmly pressed into her pillow as if it would bring him that much closer to her. She couldn’t fight off her upcoming smile of adoration.

Carefully, and ever so softly, she walked towards him. She tilted her head to the side when she reached JJ, smiling softly before crouching down and very delicately brushing a few fallen strands of his hair out of his face. He looked angelic.

“Better let you sleep, hm,” she muttered under her breath, more so to herself than to JJ. WIth a soft groan, Y/N pushed herself back upwards and made her way towards the first-aid kit they left on the altar.

Her entire body froze when she heard a crunch from underneath her feet. Wide-eyed, she looked back at JJ - only letting herself breathe out again when she saw him still fast asleep. She frowned, and took a step backwards, reaching down to grab the bright yellow, crumpled piece of paper she’d accidentally stepped on.

‘hi, saw you weren’t here, yet. i’ve got plans with my friends but i’ll be back right after, promise. if anything’s wrong, call me 919 555 0133 - jj :)’

Y/N stared at the paper for a few seconds, only tearing her eyes away to look at the writer of it. All the guilt she should have been feeling for not showing up hit her like a truck - she never thought about how worried he must have been, or how abandoned, god what thoughts had been going through his head?

Swallowing deeply, she pushed the thoughts away for now. The tingling feeling on her knuckles made her painfully aware of the more pressing matters she had to attend to, and she promised herself she’d apologize thoroughly when he woke up.

And so, she started tending to her wounds. First was the blood underneath her nose, because it’d been bothering her immensely. Second, were her knuckles, as she wouldn’t be able to take care of the rest without proper use of her hands. Just as she was about to finish up the bandaid, she heard some rustling behind her.

Y/N turned her head, and gave the sleepy boy a small smile.

“Hey,” she whispered, as if he would run away if she spoke too loudly.

“Hey,” he croaked out, rubbing his eyes. JJ froze soon after that, not moving for a few seconds before carefully removing his hands away from his face. He peeked up from behind them, blinking as he looked at her. “Y/N.”

“JJ,” she echoed.

“Y/N.” He said again, louder this time. A loud laugh left his lips and he pushed himself upwards with such speed that he almost tripped. “Y/N!” JJ exclaimed, a large smile on his lips before hastily making his way towards her, he happily took her in an embrace and let his arms rest around her waist. “You’re here, I thought something happened, or that you left, don’t scare me like that again. Not a fan of it at all.”

Somewhere along his ramble, he had tightened his hold on her - which resulted in a wince from the girl. The gesture of pain made him freeze, and only then did he properly register the state she was in.

“What happened?” He asked, voice steady.

“Nothing, it’s fine, I promise,”

“What happened?” JJ asked again, voice louder this time. “Y/N, what happened? Who did this to you?”

“Nobody, JJ, it’s okay - nothing happened.”

“That’s bullshit!” He said, all happiness from before gone. Taking a step backwards, he allowed himself to do an entire scan of her body. The bruise creeping out from underneath her crop top made his jaw clench. “Listen, I’m not fucking around, alright? Just - tell me who did this.”

“JJ,” Y/N said, and took a step towards him. She connected their hands, caressing the top of his with her thumb as she knew it calmed him down. “Nothing happened. I got into a fight with some girl, that’s all.”

If it weren’t for the sincere look in her eyes, he probably wouldn’t have believed her. “Alright,” he spoke softly, nodding towards the hand that wasn’t holding his. “Can I - you know, finish it off for you?”

“Yeah, of course,” she answered, and took a seat upon the altar.

Neither of them talked for a while, with JJ focusing his attention on patching her up this time around, and with Y/N paying attention to his every move. The way he moved so delicately around her wounded hand made her heart flutter. He’d always been gentle, as if she would crack underneath his fingers if too much pressure was applied.

“Why did you fight her?”

“Hm?”

“The girl. Why did you fight her?”

“Oh,” the question snapped her out of her daze. Clearing her throat, she let her eyes flicker from their intertwined hands to his eyes. “She just said some stuff about you.”

JJ couldn’t help but let the smallest of smirks appear. “Fighting in my honor now?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she still wore a smile. “Don’t let it get to your head.” The laughter he let out and the joy on his face were enough fuel for her to fight the girl all over again, if only she’d get to see it a second time. Then, the words Ellis had said came back to her. “She, uh, said you cried over me.”

JJ stopped his movements for just a few seconds, but then carried on, pretending like nothing happened. “Did I, now?” He said, clearing his throat.

“JJ,” she said, and caught his eyes with her own. “I just - I’m so sorry if I made you feel worried, or cast aside, or - or - I don’t know, I...my parents finalized their divorce and it’s been one court day after the other and every time I got home I was just so tired and-“

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he said quickly, slowly letting go of her hand after he finished bandaging it. One of his hands found its way towards her chin, and he slightly tilted it upwards to make her look at him. “It’s okay. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He moved his hand to cup her cheek, and she copied his movements by placing her hand over his. The two stared into each other's eyes, and she thought she’d seen his eyes flicker to her lips for a second - but it was gone as quickly as it came, and she was left thinking she’d imagined it. At least, until—

“Can I, uh, can I kiss you?”

Y/N blinked, a wide smile settling on her face before she nodded eagerly. “Yeah, of course,” she said, their faces so close together their lips almost touched as she did so.

The blond didn’t have to be told twice, and placed both of his hands on her cheeks before pulling her into a kiss - it was soft, caring, and passionate, and much unlike any kiss he’d shared before.

It took a while before either of them pulled back, though Y/N did so first, as the lack of air proved to be too much.

Y/N and JJ smiled at each other, foreheads pressed together as they relished in the thought that somewhere along the way ‘my spot’ had slowly turned into ‘our spot.’

tags:

@theepoguelandia @golden-hoax @jemimah-b99 @outerbcnks @goldenroutledge @sylvieshay @stilesks @pogueslandia @prettyboystarkey @luvhann @basicluvvv @tenaciousperfectionunknown @miniiminie @mrs-cameron @blue-4-55-readinglist @iheartualot @tsnelf7 @alanniys @luversgirl @afuturemilf

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot #outer banks #obx

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fischltao · 2 years

Text

luce stellarum (levi drabble)

pairing: levi ackerman x gn!reader

tw: mentions of sex, angst, its kinda sad, spoilers for the snk manga, character deaths, marriage

a/n: i've been having a rough couple of days, dealing with a creep from my college acting inappropriately towards me etc... hope u enjoy

SPOILERS FOR SNK MANGA ENDING

beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

when beauty comes into mind, others think of physical appearances. whether someone is big or small, has green or brown eyes, looks like this or another way. its subjective.

others find beauty in the soul. how one's kindness radiates in a room full of gloominess. or how one can hold so much pain and still have the courage to go on, not losing sense of character and what they stand for.

others find beauty in the little things. such as feeling the breeze on a summer night's walk through town. or the smell of rain just as the first droplets of water hit the soil, a steamy cup of coffee in the early hours of the morning. or maybe, the tangled limbs of two lovers laying on the bed after a long night of passion and pure love.

and levi thought, as he held you in his arms, how could he be born in the same timeline as you were?

out of everyone you could have he was the one to be there with you. to watch you come fully undone for him. to see your smiles in the morning and to feel your warmth. your kindness, your soul, your strength, your eyes....

and the most important part is that you stay. the only consistent thing in his life. the one who's been with him from start to finish. the one who never left. his guardian angel.

he vowed to make you his when everything would be over, when he would be sure that nothing could take away the happiness you shared. you would both be safe from threats of titans and the terror of losing each other in the madness of the world. from time to time he couldnt believe it. no matter how hurt you'd get, you'd still crawl back to him, alive and well, awaiting for the time neither had to see the other mangled up and on death's door.

the day before your wedding the girls insisted that seeing each other would be bad luck so they would temporarily have to separate you. he never realized he would feel so uneasy without your presence. what if something bad happens? levi was the strongest soldier but now all he was was just a man on a wheelchair-a cane on his better days- and you'd be away with noone to protect you and noone to protect him. but he'd have to bear the fear of losing you again just this once.

on the day of the wedding the girls helped you get dressed. mikasa, gabi, pieck, annie, hitch, historia with her baby girl had all tried their best to make you the happiest and prettiest they could. the war was over and seeing the genuine smiles on their faces made you feel so fulfilled. you couldn't help but wish mikasa wouldnt need to lose her true love and soulmate for this to happen. that eren would still be here. noone deserves to lose their soulmate and you were one of the lucky ones so it was truly a day of happiness. if only hange and sasha were here, along with erwin and all of the friends you lost in the way. they are the ones that made this day possible.

so as you walked down the aisle, you took a moment to mentally thank everyone that wasn't there. they were all watching. and levi felt the same.

nothing could ever compare to the way he was looking at you as you walked in between connie and jean and towards him, your one and only. and you, his one and only.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder. and for levi the epitome of beauty is you.

after the wedding venue and the feast you went back to your shared house. it had been some time, but it didnt take long until you fell back into rhythm as you made love to each other all night. every touch was magnetic and he felt as if he was drunk. this was your effect on him.

and when you whispered those three little words in his ear as you came, levi thought back to what eren had told him once and he finally believed him.

he was free.

#levi #levi x reader #attack on titan #aot #snk #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyoujin #levi ackerman x reader

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waybrights · 2 years

Text

so... good morning :) heres part 1 and part 2!! also, i wasn't planning on this but @cute-as-buttons convinced me to write sasha angst <3 ENJOY!!!

---

there were nights sasha couldn't sleep at all, when she would lay on her back, hands clasped firmly against her chest, staring up at the ceiling, trying her hardest to stop the multitude of thoughts tumbling through her mind.

those nights, when the sun would set and her eyes would sting, sasha traced the cracks in the paint, waiting, just waiting, for the memory to come.

it had always been the same one, since the words had fallen from anne's lips, they would haunt sasha's every waking hour. no matter the instant apology, or the constant reassurance that she didn't mean it, sasha could never forget the glare on anne's face or the venom the words were spat with.

the memory would always begin the same way:

they were standing in the plantar's house, sasha only coming to collect her measly pile of belongings off the kitchen counter. anne had found her standing over the bag, her hands gripping the straps with white knuckles.

anne's words had been quiet, barely above a whisper, but they'd still hurt all the same. "you shouldn't be here." they hadn't been words of anger, or sadness, just a fact, a simple fact. sasha shouldn't have been there, it wasn't her house, it had never been her house.

"good thing i'm going then," she'd replied just as quietly, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning on her heel. no matter what anne was going to say, or how empty her eyes were, sasha couldn't stop her heart skipping a beat at the sight of her friend.

"i don't," anne swallowed, her eyes fixed on the ground and hands fiddling with a loose string on her shirt (her new shirt, because she got out, she went home). "i don't think it's a good idea," she let out a choked sigh and scrubbed at her eyes.

"spit it out, anne," sasha said, the words thick with anger she didn't feel.

with teary eyes, anne looked up at sasha, working her jaw for a few moments before finally saying the words that would stick with sasha for the rest of her life. "i don't think its a good idea for us to be friends anymore."

"oh," it felt like every word she'd been meaning to say since she lost anne the first time were gone, replaced with a tigteness in her chest and a lump in her throat. tears stung her eyes yet she didn't let them fall, wouldn't dare to. this was her fault, it was always her fault, she shouldn’t cry when she brought this on herself. "okay."

"and," for a second, there was a hope that anne would say something else, that she just meant for a little bit, but all that hope drained when she saw the tears fall down anne's cheeks. "when we go home," anne stopped, taking a shuddering breath, "i don't want to see you again." it felt like a stab to her chest, but all sasha could do was nod and turn to the door.

she could feel anne's eyes on her back as she walked to the small door that she'd left open, tears finally welling in her eyes when she was out of sight.

she'd known it was coming, she'd known for a while, but that still didn't make it hurt any less.

on nights where she was plagued by anne's words, laying stiffly with anne just a few inches away, sasha felt tears dripping down her face, falling onto the pillow or marcy's hair. she'd never liked crying, but sometimes, when everything got too much and words hurt more than they had in years, it was all sasha could do to muffle her cries with her hand and try not to wake up the two she had loved even when they didn't love her back.

#MWAHAHAHAHA #sasha angst <33 #also part 3 of the sasha at night thing shshs #enjoy <33 #as usual this isnt edited so any mistakes do Not exist <33 #amphibia #sashanne #sashannarcy is implied but marcy is kinda asleep and also mentioned once <3 #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #amphibia fanfic #marie.txt #marie writes

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space-lynn · 3 years

Text

Posting this here because I didn’t know what else to do. This is a rough and messy fic snippet. Not my best work, but I elongated and revised it into a proper fic. You guys could check it out here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33451993

Enjoy reading!

(Trigger Warning: Major Character Death, Blood)

Everyone is born with a soulmate identifying mark, one full sentence written on a certain part of their body. It was, of course, what helped a person recognize someone as their partner in life. But, it had one little... fucked up catch. These weren't the first words they spoke to you, these were the last words they'll ever say to you.

How would they know this? you might ask. Well, those words only ever sent sharp tingling sensations along where they were inscribed after their promised one's final breath, only when they've heard them say those words, of course. Not everyone who found their soulmates felt it, though, for they are the ones who die after hearing their loved one for the last time. It was an unfair ordeal, but that didn't mean someone couldn't fall in love with a person who isn't their soulmate. After all, couples who aren't soulmates comprise 78% of successful life-long relationships.

People around the world have tried coming up with tips and advices to find your soulmate, and only one had a 22% success rate (the highest) of actually finding your true partner: trusting your gut and your heart.

Folks destined to have more than one soulmate had a harder time finding them. Polyamory is a normal thing, especially among people with multiple marks, but not everyone got to live or meet each of them.

So when Anne was born with two marks, it had been quite a problem. One was written across her shoulders and the other on the small of her back.

Anne had hoped, truly hoped that the number 1 advice would work. She'd trusted her gut and her heart when she'd stayed close friends with Sasha and Marcy, since they, too, had two marks of their own. But after all the betrayal and heartache she endured, she started to think it wasn't them, and it only grew worse when Marcy said, "I'm sorry... For everything," before collapsing. Those words didn't match either mark.

Months after that, she'd lost and gained more hope. Lost in that she's had a hard time believing Sasha to be her other soulmate, gained in that Marcy was still alive. She was happy, ecstatic even, of the news Yunnan had given them, that she was tempted to jump on Joe Sparrow and fly there immediately. But she was stopped by Sasha, the rebellion leader saying she was the one who would rescue Marcy instead. Anne was pissed. Who did Sasha think she was? A commander who developed a martyr complex just because she'd fucked everything up before??

The two devolved into a fight after, in Sasha's tent after everybody else had left after Yunnan's news. Anne had ended it with a shout of, "UGH! I don't want to have to do anything with you anymore!"

Sasha laughed bitterly, replying coldly and sadly, "Don't worry, because soon you won't be dealing with me any longer."

Anne marched out of the tent, furious. If Sasha meant what she think she meant, then good, because after the war they wouldn't have to be friends anymore.

-----

A few hours after their argument, Anne was preparing her armor and sword when a sensation shot up her spine from the small of her back, sharp and tingly. It made her drop her sword's scabbard, and rub her back when she realized what she was touching. Her mark. That... That can't be right. The last words any human had told her came from--

She paled. Dashing into the Plantar household and into the bathroom. Her back faced the mirror as she lifted her shirt, reading the words scribbled on her skin. After years of practice, she'd become an expert at reading mirrored words. What was there confirmed her fear.

Don't worry, because soon you won't be dealing with me any longer.

Anne gasped. Running out of the house, she burst into Sasha's tent. Empty. No armor, no swords, no Sasha. Just a bed, with furs and clothes on top. Shit.

She hurriedly walked outside, to the forest looking for a giant bird, only to find a peg in the ground. Fuck! She took Minerva, the giant owl she'd tamed during the war. Goddamn owls and their fucking silent wings.

Anne yelled in frustration and she ran towards Joe Sparrow, startling the poor bird as she angrily swiped her sword and scabbard and clipped it to her belt.

"Anne! What's going on?" Hop Pop yelled, hearing the commotion.

She clambered onto Joe's back, replying, "Sasha's gone."

"What!?" It was Grime who exclaimed.

"She took Minerva with her. I know where she is. I'll bring her back. Alone."

"But Anne," Sprig said.

"Alone Sprig. I'll be fine."

"Promise us you'll come back."

"I will, HP."

"Bring her home, Anne," Grime huffed.

She nodded, steering Joe in the direction of Andrias' flying castle. Only to find it on the ground with no power. They carefully landed on one of the spires, cautious of guards or robots, but there was none.

"Stay here," she whispered to Joe, the surrounding quiet unsettling them both.

She slipped into the silent castle, using her powers to quickly check each room, finding destroyed or shut down robots. She found Minerva upon entering the throne, the bird feasting on the corpse of the king, his own flaming sword pierced through his chest. The bird looked at her, hooting as she acknowledged the human.

"Hello, Minerva," Anne whispered. "Where's your rider?"

The owl looked to a hole in a wall, stairs leading down to its depths. Minerva hooted again before continuing her meal.

Anne teleported down the stairs to the basement. Smashing the door open and freezing at the sight before her, her mind going blank.

Marcy, dressed in a wetsuit with numerous lines, was kneeling, back towards her. In front of the raven-haired girl was Sasha, lying on the ground, eyes closed with her blood pooling around her.

"You're too late," Marcy rasped. "She's long gone."

"I know. I felt it." "It was supposed to be the three of us, huh? Together forever, like we promised one another. Look how well that aged."

A bitter laugh escaped Marcy. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the fallen warrior's forehead.

Anne knelt beside her, looking at Sasha. "We should take her back."

"Ok."

-----

Anne stared at Sasha, stripped down to just her undershort and chest binder. A blanket lay over her, covering her legs and the hole in her stomach.

The brunette's eyes traced her dead soulmate's marks, one on her right bicep and another across her collarbone. Sasha was one of those who's never felt that soulmate-recognizing sensation, she was one of those who died first.

Her first mark, the one on her bicep, was simple. Just three little words, filled with anguish, sorrow and regret.

I'm so sorry.

And her second mark, wasn't. Eleven words filled with malice, disgust and hate.

I don't want to have to do anything with you anymore!

It made Anne feel a lot of things. Sadness at the loss. Anguish at the memory of pushing her away. Anger at the unfairness of it all. Nauseous as she watch one of the toads pull the sheet over their dead commander.

She left the tent, bitterly wondering, "Just what kind of fucked up love story do we have?"

-----

I... am not proud of this. It’s messy as hell, but I still hope you guys enjoyed reading. Until next time!

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #sasha waybright #hop pop plantar #sprig plantar #captain grime #sashannarcy #fanfic snippet #read the revised version in ao3 #it is much better than this #Final Words Spoken draft

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misterghostfrog · 4 years

Text

So I was reading someones post about what if Jon went back in time to save everyone, and he managed it. He kept Martin away from Prentiss, he Kept Sasha alive, Tim never even know the unknowing existed and he never had Jons paranioa to ruin him. But They never knew, there was never those moments of bonding between the terror. Martin never had that moment when he realized Jon wasn’t just his shitty boss. And sure the assistants were close, but there was no room for Jon. And it gave me thoughts.

Under the cut bc I started to Ramble and it got Long, warning; its Big Sad Hours down there. No happy endings here.

Jon solves all these problems before they start, he fixes it without anyone ever knowing. The assistants are blissfully unaware, maybe he stops sending them on ‘real’ statement followup. The archives are a normal, safe job for all of them. Sometimes it gets too much, pretending he doesn’t know them. So he’ll record, mostly for himself. Sometimes for them, though he’ll never share. He sticks them all in Gertrude's old storage locker, where he knows they’ll never be found.

And then something goes wrong. He knows the unknowing can’t work, of course it can’t. But Nikola doesn’t, none of the avatars know. And Nikola still wants her skin. She still wants his skin, actually. And she’s not afraid to play dirty to get it, she’s hands-on like that. Because why stop at the archivist when he’s got so many lovely ignorant assistants?

So he fixes the problem before she can make good on her threats, she can’t be killed that easily. He knows. But she died during the unknowing, and there are some pretty simple steps to follow to replicate that result. He knows the easiest way to make sure it works is also a death sentence for him. But that’s a simple choice to make. Alright no, it’s not. He’s terrified of death, of dying. He doesn’t want to die, but he can lie to himself. He can delude and say maybe he’ll get another chance. And just in case, he makes sure the assistants know they can quit now.

Tim, Sasha, and Martin don’t know what to make of the news that their boss died mysteriously in an explosion. They know even less what to make of the notes he left them.

Clearly the ramblings of a very unstable man. They all knew Jon was a bit off but this... Well, they all know there’s something weird about the job. But the apocalypse? Really?

Sasha believes some of it, she’s worked in artifact storage. She’s seen what this stuff can do. But, well. Jon’s never come off as the most stable person, and with no proper proof to back up any of this there’s no reason for them to follow suit. After all she’s known lots of people to quit the institute, she even knows for a fact that Eric Delano did it when she was rooting through employee records for perfectly rational legal reasons.

Then Martin gets called up to Elias’s office, and gets the news he’s the new head archivist.

He tries to turn it down, but he’s offered a pay-raise and a promise that he can step down anytime if he doesn’t feel suited to the position. Elias just sees so much potential in him.

Martin tries to feel flattered and not thoroughly terrified by the way Elias says potential. He takes the promotion, after all, he can always step down if it’s too much.

He offers as much when he finds out Sasha probably should have been given the position, but she turns him down. It��s not his fault their boss is a sexist old bastard, and at this rate he’d probably just turn around and give it to Tim.

Things are normal for a few months. Until slowly a strange noise starts to be heard around the archives, a weird sort-of squishing sound with no source. Along with a metallic scent of meat.

An infestation, of course. They’re getting the problem worked on, or so Elias says. But aside from the occasional exterminator coming in to ‘take a look’ nothing ever seems to change. Weird statements start showing up on Martins desk, surrounding meat and twisted up things, eaten alive and wrong. Suddenly he understands how Jon went off his rocker so easily.

It’s hard to believe all this supernatural stuff as it’s suddenly getting crammed down his throat, after so long of the archives being normal in almost every sense of the word it’s like missing a step on the staircase. The more awful statements he finds- that Tim and Sasha confirm -the more he realizes how much his boss was hiding from them.

He wants to quit, he thinks about it, he tries to think about it. But he just, can’t.

It’s another or two month before it happens. Meat and bone and gristle erupt from the floor, taking on horrible mangled shapes of almost-humans reaching out with hands full of teeth and hungry.

They all survive, though Tim gets eaten up a bit more than the rest of them. And they’ll all have nightmares for the rest of their lives. They’re alive.

And they find Gertrude’s body, though none of them know how to feel about it. They’ve realized by now there’s something to Jon’s nonsensical ramblings. And they’re long past regretting not quitting before this all happened.

There’s a section of document storage that got uncovered during the cleaning,an old cot that was shoved behind some of the shelves, and a box that had a few sets of clothes, an old teacup, and a key. The cleaners say they burned the clothes, but the cup and the Key are given to Martin for him to keep to return to whoever left their things in the archive.

Neither of those items belong to Tim or Sasha, so they all assume they belonged to Jon.

They start following Jons footsteps, they find out he was a suspect in an arson case surrounding Carlos Vittery’s old apartment. Nobody was there except one unidentified body. He was arrested for trespassing on a dock, though no charges were filed. There was an incident that ended in the near arrest of one Jude Perry, though no charges were filed and she soon fell off the grid. And then he exploded using C4 he had no way of getting, Nothing concrete, no proper genuine evidence except a series of weird encounters their dead boss had.

Martin Decides to try and hunt down Jude Perry, it takes some time. He has a very nice cup of tea with one Micheal Crew. Who points him in a general direction and is just a bit weird about tall buildings.

Martin finds Jude, and asks her about Jon. She laughs at him, of course. But she tells him anyway. Jon was trying to have her arrested- no, not arrested. Killed. Officer Tonner would have seen to that, he knew one of the Hunt could do her in, well. At least of Officer Tonner’s sort anyway. Jude resisted, naturally. He escaped her clutches only barely, by running. Like a coward. And she escaped the policewoman by playing innocent. She’s still on her tail though, damn dog. It’ll be a long time before she’d rid of her, but she knows better than to run. Oh, he doesn’t know what any of that means, does he? Oh he really doesn’t, how sweet. Just a little baby archivist- she was going to kill him after this. But watching him stumble into his own ruin will be so much more fun.

She sends him on his way with a burn.

Martin is terrified, he genuinely tries to quit. Almost manages it before his computer shuts off. The others try too, and then they all have a lovely freak-out together.

They decide to try and talk to Detective Tonner, which proves easy. She’s the partner of the one who’s been interviewing them. She comes to the institute, and they ask her about Jon. She tells them they believed he was responsible for killing Gertrude, seeing as he was next in line. Martin accidentally Compels her into a statement, and then into admitting she's mostly just saying he killed her because dead men don’t put up fights.

She threatens him right then and there, though Basira comes in and intervenes before anything happens. He files a dispute with the station, and avoids the police after that.

Basira brings him some of the tapes, she says it’s an apology. He’s pretty sure she’s just trying to get him to drop the dispute in the weirdest way possible. He does learn some about Gertrude though, and through her what he’s dealing with. And something about an ‘unknowing’

A man named peter Lukas visits the institute, one of the doners. Elias says he wants to see how the archive runs, Lukas says a few choice words about it. And Martin tells him in the most polite of terms to shove off. Lukas threatens him, and very briefly makes him forget everyone he’s ever loved. And then tells him he got off lucky, and that Elias should have picked a better archivist. You can hardly trust someone so childish to run something as important as this now can you.

Daisy visits him in his home, and threatens him in much more physical terms now. She tells him if he tries to do what he did to her again he’ll get more than a scar.

After that it’s a bit unclear how he gets marked by the next two (Curruption, Stranger.) but he does.

There’s a delivery, a few weeks after the stranger mark. It’s not supernatural in any sense, just a young woman dropping off a small box in the archivists office. She says her name is Georgie, and no, she doesn’t know what’s in the box. She just had an old friend tell her to deliver it if he didn’t check in after a bit. Then she found out he died on the news, and then she hadn’t wanted to deliver them- clearly whatever was in the box was going to get someone killed. And she wasn’t scared of it, she wasn’t one for fear, but the thought of putting anyone in danger made her skin crawl. But she didn’t want it in her house, and she refused to be haunted be this box forever. And there was no reason to defy the poor guys apparent final wishes- wait, why was she saying all this again?

In the box was tapes, a dozen or so of them. All addressed to ‘the next head archivist’

It’s Jon’s voice, on the tapes. Talking to who he apparently assumes to be an entire stranger, explaining the fears. And how Smirkes 14 wasn’t wrong, but wasn’t right either. It tells the next archivist to avoid eyes, paintings, doodles, abstract representations, and to keep playing dumb. There’s a lot out there, and the more you know the worse it gets. There’s no fighting, don’t struggle the nets already around you. There’s a way out, but you’re not going to like it.

It gives an odd image of Jon, the man who awkwardly tried to make small-talk int he break room, only to shuffle away after it fell flat. Carrying this world-ending secret on his shoulders. Stiff, awkward Jon. Grim, sad Jon. not so far apart but still so far outside of what Martin had known about him.

What had Martin known about him?

Tim decides to quit, Sasha stays. Elias hires Melanie. Who turns out to be another connection to Jon.

Melanie says he was kind of a prick, he belived her about her Sarah incident, but refused to give her library access. Probably because he was sexist, or maybe just a dickhead. She’d been trying to learn more about her encounter for ages. And this was finally her chance. They try to explain the way out but she won’t listen.

Martin starts following Gertrudes tapes, things about the unknowing have been popping up on his desk lately, and it sounds like Jon was right about an apocalypse. He goes to america, gets a bit kidnapped, and meets Gerry. He offers to help, and then asks about the unknowing. Gerry points him towards the storage locker. And when he gets back He and Sasha and Melanie check it out.

It’s mostly empty, apparently somewhat recently cleared out. Though in the corner there’s a large box of Tapes. There has to be dozens of them, and when they pres play it’s Jon. Talking to them. Except it’s not them, it’s another version of them, and something this version.

And there’s another Jon to add to the mystery of a man he was. The jon on these tapes isn’t stiffly awkward or forcedly professional. He’s open, sad. He cries, he laughs at memories they don’t have. He apologizes, a lot. Too much really. He talks about time travel, about forgetting faces and losing friends.

“Sometimes I-I think- I can’t help but be a bit... upset. At how unfair it all is. You’re all happy and laughing and together and i’m-

i’m alone.

I suppose it must be some sort of- cosmic Karma, I doomed the world so in this new one bright an new I pay my penance in isolation.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. I doom the world- suffer its horrors, and get a little bit of time to taste what humanity would be like.

Or maybe i’m just not that likable without an apocalypse.

Probably says a lot about me either way.

Is it bad that I- I sometimes consider letting things play their course? W-without any of you dying of course I just... I suppose it is bad, to want to end the world because you’re lonely. Just because i’m a bit sad doesn’t mean the planet should suffer, no... maybe i’ll try and reconnect with Georgie, it’s been... well. No. Perhaps best not.”

Sasha says that if she knew she would have at least brought him out for drinks or something.

But they did sort-of know didn’t they? Not about the apocalypse, but about the loneliness. After all, nobody chats so awkwardly in the break room because they have a thriving social life.

“I’m going to kill Nikola tonight- i’m not going to die. I’m not. I didn’t die last time, a-and there’s no reason for that to change. T-there isn’t. I’m going to try and be a safe distance from the blast this time, too. But... Well, it’s not like I have anyone to miss me if I do go.

I suppose... Martin, if you’re listening to this- I... I miss you. You always did say I should be more open with my feelings, and it’s weird. To miss someone who’s right there. T-to look at a face and see a friend and a stranger. To love someone you’ve known for years who doesn’t even really know who you are.

It’s all very stranger, ironic really. Considering what i’m about to do.

I love you, and I miss you. I know you’re not listening, even if I did die you’ve probably long since quit. I hope you’re happy, whatever you’re doing. Happy and safe. All of you.

And maybe you are listening, maybe... maybe we do become friends, maybe you actually choose to talk to me someday. Maybe I tell you about all of this and... And you don’t think i’m mad. Maybe you let me take you out to dinner and we’d be together again. We’d never be like before- not that that’s a bad thing what with the eldritch horrors. There’d be bits missing, memories we don’t share- but, it would still be you... It’s always been you, I think. And maybe I've decided to give this to you as some sort of silly romantic gesture.

A-and in that case. I love you, Martin Blackwood. More than you’ll ever know.

[HE SIGHS]

When I come back, i’m recording over this.”

[CLICK]

But he didn’t come back. He died that night. He died loving Martin, who never even really knew him beyond passing awkward conversation. Martin doesn’t know how to feel about it, besides guilty that is.

The tapes point them towards Georgie Barker, the woman who delivered the other set to the archives.

Georgie doesn’t really want anything to do with them, she knows whatever they’re stewing in got Jon killed. But she tells them about her encounter with The End, though she’s tetchy afterwards. Martins finally starting to understand this whole compelling business and is feeling pretty sorry about it. He redirects, he starts to ask about Jon. Who he was, really. What she knew he was like.

They talk, Martins curiosity is part Eye and part knowing that someone loved him, really, really loved him. And feeling like he missed out, like he skipped a train he hadn’t known was there. And wanting to know what kind of person would- could love him the way Jon did. And why that kind of person could end the world.

They talk, Georgie explains why they broke up (clashing ideals, he didn’t believe in the supernatural and her trauma was so inherently tied to it. He was a sleep-clinger and she kicked when she dreamed) And why it took so long for them to break up (Jon was funny once you learned to get his jokes, the Admiral loved him, he had a weird way of caring that was really sweet) they talk about things, Georgie lets him hang out with her as long as he promises to keep the supernatural out of their conversations. And how is Melanie doing by the way?

Sasha has a hard time splitting her time in the archive and helping Tim. He can manage himself of course but it’s hard knowing he’s sitting in her flat alone, he’s getting back into publishing though. Sleeping easier now he knows that not only is he free of the eye, but Jon very much killed the thing that killed Danny. He only wishes he could have been the one to pull the trigger. Sasha is getting more involved though, the eye has it’s own grip on her.

They finally confront Elias. They know it won’t do any good, Jons tapes explained what he was, who he was. But they’re frustrated. Low on options. Jon never really explained what the apocalypse was- if Martins learned anything from the other tapes it’s probably because he forgot, thought he did somewhere and didn’t.

Elias isn’t entirely surprised that they’ve figured it out, he knew something was going on. Though he wasn’t quite sure what. He claims he knows what oncoming apocalypse Jon was talking about, and that he was likely underestimating the amount.

He sends them to Ny-Ålesund. And Martin views the black sun. Gets briefly taken hostage by Manuela. And gets “saved” by a man who pops out of a door to stab her.

He says his name is Micheal, and he’s not there to help. He does his whole distortion bit, confuses them. Stabs Martin when he tries to take his statement. Says he was going to kill him, but what happens next might be much better than death. And leaves after stating that he’s very excited to watch how the rest of this plays out.

They go back to the institute, and Elias says he must have been wrong. Oopsie. Anyway the web is planning a ritual you should go check out the spooky house from all these statements.

They meet Annabelle in person, Martin gets marked by the web.

This continues on for the end the slaughter and the buried. They finally confront Elias again about these wild goose chases, he claims innocence but he’s done it enough times they don’t believe him. They stop trusting Elias. Not that they ever really did, but they stop listening to him.

Melanie isn’t as angry as she was. Though she is still angry. She didn’t go to india so no ghost bullet, but she’s still trapped. Though she knows how to quit, it’s been a scary idea. But the longer she stays the more she realizes how low she is on options. So she quits.

Martin is angry, he’s exhausted, he’s confused. Nothing makes sense. And another one of Elias’s goddamn doners is visiting. A weird old man who, when he shakes his hand, makes him feel like he just dropped off a rollercoaster at a million miles into empty nothingness. He laughs when Martins regained himself, and says that that tricks better than a buzzer every time.

He visits Georgie again, he’s thinking about quitting. But he can’t figure out what the apocalypse he’s supposed to stop is, because according to Jon it’s pretty bad. And he’s the one who can stop, or maybe start, it. But he doesn’t know what it is.

He talks to Georgie about Jon some more, it’s funny, to grieve a man you already knew. Except four years too late. There’s a sort-of helpless frustration to it, every time he talks about Jon he wishes he could be learning this first-hand. Not from someone who hadn’t spoken to him in years before this.

He also finds himself glued to the tapes, he can relate, in a way. To Jons loneliness. To have a person so, so close but so far away. He wishes he could meet the Jon on the tapes now. Then neither of them would have to be lonely. But Jon is dead. And Martin... Martin might love Jon. Jon, who died years ago. A dead man who apparently loved him enough to consider ending the world for the chance to have a real conversation with him.

He goes back to work, frustrated and so, so lost. A million questions that genuinely can’t be answered. There’s a fresh statement on his desk. It’s a statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding stopping the apocalypse.

Certainly a goddamn roundabout way of giving Martin information, but he’ll take it.

He reads the statement.

The world ends.

Sasha, Tim, Melanie, and Georgie all get their own domains. And wander free in the hills of suffering. Martin is alone, well and truly alone. He ended the world, because he was too stupid and sad to read a few extra paragraphs before starting the tape.

But Jon went back, didn’t he? He went back in time and stopped this once. Maybe Martin can too. Maybe he can stop the flesh from attacking, maybe he can stop Melanie from joining the institute. Maybe he can meet the real Jon.

He goes back, he does it. Nobody remembers but him.

Nobody remembers but him.

And things keep happening he can’t have predicted.

Worms, Sasha is gone, Gertrude. It’s all wrong. And Jon isn’t the Jon he knew, he doesn’t know Martin, he doesn’t even like Martin. Nobody is the person he knew before.

He is alone. And things keep happening he can’t have predicted, worms tables and paranoia. He starts recording. Trying to follow in Jon’s footsteps and leave information behind, easier to access this time of course. In his flat, and he’ll have the key sent to the archives if something goes wrong. He’ll record until Jon trusts him enough to believe him, Maybe he’ll even stop him before it’s too late and he’ll never need to find out what happened at all. Maybe he can't get close as he was to everyone, but he can keep them safe.

He doesn’t get to finish his recordings, he wasn’t careful enough. Jonah catches wind and half the tapes are destroyed when he dies in a mysterious housefire. But what’s left does get delivered to the archives.

And the cycle continues.

#jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #angst #writing #ghostly scribbles #Tma is a tragedy and so is this #not a proper fic more like a really weird outline

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vesuvian-american-fics · 3 years

Text

better with time. Ch 18

i'm home.

You ride with Reiner to Conny's village, exactly where the titans are coming from. (AO3)

Words: 1,841

Hours earlier within Wall Rose .

Panic shoots through you like ice. Goosebumps raising on your neck and a steady tremble overtakes you. Cold sweat dampens your forehead, your eyes dart between your friends. You can call Sasha and Conny that now, friends. Conversation with Bertholdt and Reiner was a bit strained and forced but interesting nevertheless. Historia and Ymir were damn near strangers to you but that didn’t stop you from turning to them and gauging their reaction to the bad news. They looked stressed of course. You breathe in deeply through your nose and slowly out your mouth.

Calm down. Just breathe.

You can handle this, you had nightmares of this day coming. Of course, they always ended in your painful death, but you’re not alone now like you are in your dreams. These are trained professionals. That also happen to be children much younger than you, even despite being a hundred years their senior. Stuck in your own haze of anxiety and panic you’ve missed everything Nanaba said, all the instructions she just gave.

“Y/N! Stick with me!” Reiner shouts, already headed out the door with the others. You almost trip over your own two feet in your haste to catch up to him. He is as reliable as he claims. You don’t know his history with Bertholdt, but you trust him. Bertholdt is intelligent and his quiet nature is welcome in the sea of young boisterous teens. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, so you’re happy to stick with these two. Even if Bertholdt would rather keep you at arm's length. A twinge of relief calms your jitters, that is until, Conny being distracted bumps into you. You snap your head to him, waiting for an apology before that look of horror much like yours moments ago is mirrored onto his once cheery face.

“My family is to the south... And the titans are... Coming from the South...” He says, large owlish eyes unblinking, mouth slack, unshed tears budding on his lashes. Your heart sinks. You have no words to offer him, you can imagine what he’s thinking and there's no way you can comfort him the way you’d like when you all are headed to board your fleet or horses and head South towards said titans.

You just gave him a sad look, a look he seemed to recognize through his fog by the way his bottom lip trembled in the way they do when you know someone's about to let loose and cry. You were about to speak before you were cut off by Nanaba’s voice cutting over the crowd.

“Get those horses ready, stat!” She barks, before using her gear to shoot up to where Miche is on a rooftop overhead. They looking towards the south. Can they see them from there?! Awkwardly you twiddle your fingers and bounce from one foot to the other, watching helplessly as Reiner saddles up his stallion. He’s quick with his work, he gets on the horse and pulls you up behind him without waiting for you to be ready. With that he snaps the reins and the horse pulls away from the base you all are abandoning.

You wrap your arms tight around his middle, turning your head to get one last glimpse of the safe haven that was just shattered. What will the day bring? Will you survive it with what little skill you possess? You feel like a burden, you miss the you that was locked away in the dungeons for only a moment before steeling your resolve. You can't waste your new life feeling useless. You don't want to be worthless to Hange... To Levi.

I’m not dying before I see them again.

...

Hours later within Wall Sina.

Only minutes after Levi was alerted of the situation in Wall Rose.

“Damn those things. Nothing for weeks and weeks on end and the second-–” Levi cuts himself off with a grunt as he forces open the door to Hange’s makeshift lab here.

“There's titans in Wall Rose. They came this morning and only now are we finally hearing about it, get ready to go...” He says, a cold bite to his tone but it doesn’t faze Hange. It stressed them a bit of course, the rush, and complications of it all. They’re worrying most about you, but at the same time in their gut they know your safe. Or so they hope at least. As a friend, they’d hate to lose you. Fuck the scientific advancements that could come from studying you, now in their heart, Hange just wants to see you safe by sunrise.

“Any word on where Y/N is?” Hange asks, their large brown eye still staring down into a microscope eyeing a piece of the wall at a molecular level. They hear Levi click his tongue in annoyance, probably upset that Hange can read him like a book. He’s worried about you.

“Everyone headed south and after that, if any of them are still alive they’re doing a perimeter of the wall to find the hole.” He informs, grimacing at the prospects of your survival and the rest of the scouts.

“They’ll be okay, those are some of our best out there and Miche is with them of course.” Hange muses, changing out the slide in the microscope with one that holds some of that odd crystal Annie is encased in.

“They haven’t seen Miche since this morning... He was holding off the titans.” Levi mentions, voice flat, an octave deeper than usual. Hange’s lips form into a flat line, and their brows furrow in concern, but they don’t speak. They silence between to two is understood. They hope he’s okay, only time will tell.

“Anyway,” Levi clears his throat to change the grim subject. “I’m going to get the priest ready to come along with us.” Levi says, pulling his coat closer over his shoulders.

“The priest?” Hange asks, confusion lacing their words.

“I want to show him what his silence can bring...” Levi said, and without another word he was stalking down the hallway.

“Be ready in half an hour or we’re leaving without you.” He calls, not bothering himself to wait for an answer, Hange knows well enough that time is ticking.

...

Back in Wall Rose.

The early afternoon sun was torturous on the back of your neck that was exposed to its rays. You could see the beginnings of a sunburn on Reiner’s neck, his cheeks were flushed from the heat, his shirt was starting to feel damp against you. Gross. Miche spoke in hushed tones to Nanaba and the others at the head of the formation. Nanaba looked stressed but she quickly regained her composure and gave Miche a curt nod before he pulled away from her and towards the crowd of titans running now in a full sprint towards you.

The thought of sacrifice made your mouth grow dry. Miche was heading towards the titans to buy everyone some time. You had heard previously, from Hange of course, that he was second only to Levi himself. Being clueless as you are to how things work here; you don’t know if that’s a good enough or not. You just hope that he’ll survive this. He seems strong, and Levi seems even stronger. Something about the way he carries himself make you feel like he could protect you. Protect the scouts, rather... you’re more of a burden to him right now, you think. He wouldn’t waste whatever skills he has to help you, someone who's hardly any help to him, right? You pouted at the idea of being abandoned, it was a recurring though you had recently. Just cooking and cleaning horse stables wasn’t enough to secure your life here. You needed to be more useful to them all, especially now, seeing as Reiner was so kind as to carry your extra weight around and keep you safe. You want to repay he scouts, Erwin, Hange... and repay Levi. You want him to see you as useful. You wanted him to need you around-––

You were taken from your thoughts as Nanaba gave orders to split up. Since you were on the back of Reiner’s horse you had no choice but to go where he wanted, and he wanted to follow Conny to his home town. Conny was grateful, and so was Sasha as she would break away to go back to her home deep in the woods. You prayed she’d make it back to you safe by the end of the day. Somehow, seeing her brown hair grow blurry the farther and farther she rode away gave you anxiety. You didn’t want this to be the last time you saw her.

You too were moving in another direction, pulling around the titans’ flank and heading straight to Conny’s village. You watched as he stumbled over his words, describing how to get to his home, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed loudly.

“Please! Can I check on my family first?” He pleaded, of course he was allowed to go find his home first. Any sane person would want to run straight to their house with news like this and see if his family was alright. It would be cruel to deny him that right, seeing the way he is now. A shadow of him former, childish self.

You were studying his features as you noticed his large eyes widen just a fraction more. He snapped the reins to rush his horse forward, Reiner and Bertholdt did the same. The village was eerily quiet, the homes were destroyed and your heart dropped so hard it felt as if it had fallen onto the beaten path beneath your feet.

Conny rush to the center of the town while Reiner and Bertholdt follow the sound of Conny’s voice. He’s calling for anyone to come out, his family, a neighbor, hell even a stranger to show themselves. You watch as he pulls his horse quickly around a corner and out of sight. Reiner nearly crashed into Conny’s horse, not expecting him to just be frozen here, staring up in horror at what you could only assume was his old home.

His childhood home that now was a blonde-haired titan flattening it.

And it might be crazy, but this titan’s eyes, they’re so round and golden they look so much like Conny’s...

“Conny! Get back!” Reiner barks, pulling on Conny’s arm. But he’s ignored, Conny just continues to mumble incoherently.

“Conny...” You say, quieter now, you rub his back to coax him out of whatever haze his mind is in right now.

“It’s... My house. This is my house...” He finally whispers, his eyes glossed over as unshed tears begin to build up in his eyes. His voice is trembling as he fights to hold his composure. Your heart sinks, you swallow thickly as you try to gather your thoughts. You share anxious eye contact with Reiner, sweat is beading at his brow.

“It’s... my house....”

#better with time.#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #snk #attack on titan #levi

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

Slasher OC: Alexander Chirilă (Update)

Authors Note: He was supposed to be a supporting character, but my brain developed his character more and decided to make him a full on OC.

Full Name: Alexander Chirilă

Nickname(s): Ally, Alex, Sasha, Black Killer, Panther, Blackburn, Colton

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Nationality: Romanian

Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania

Current Location: Travels all around the world to find his twin brother to kill him (formerly), Traveling alongside his brother and sister (Currently)

Occupation: Assassin

Languages: Romanian, English, Japanese, Greek, and Belarusian

Appearance:

Height: 6'8

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Atheltic

Skin Color: Warm Beige

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, unlike his twin brother Decebal, his hair isn't wavy, has a spikier look

Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Clothing: His clothes are all black, wearing combat gear that consists of black shirts and black jackets, black cargo pants, and black combat boots, black gauntlet gloves. He also wears knee and elbow protection along with a tactical bulletproof vest and utility belt where he carries his weapons. As an assassin, he wears a tactical black skull mask.

Other features: Unlike his twin brother Decebal; Colton has a much darker and scarier appearance, especially the two scars on his face that start from his hairline, down his forehead, and over his eyelids, continuing over his cheeks and neck and stopping at his collarbones.

Weapons: Twin Katana swords, throwing knives, grenades, gloves with metal claws and twin guns strapped on the holsters on his thighs.

Power/Skills:

Murderous expertise

Strength

Skilled usage of weaponry

Skill in hand-to-hand combat

Knifesmanship

Swordsmanship

Ruthlessness

Fearlessness

Marksmanship

Stealth

Superior agility

Impressive Flexibility

Overly High Inteligence

Knowledge about Bombs and Chemistry

Medical/Surgeon Skills

History/Bio:

Alexander Chirilă was the second born son to father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. He was born after 20 minutes after Decebal was born, during the communist era in Romania, and because the parents couldn't support both children, they passed Alexander to an orphanage only to be sold over the country boundaries for human trafficking.

Before he could be bought for organ trafficking in America, an old lady took him in, raising Alexander, choosing a new identity for him so that he could protect him from his former life.

Until the age of 12, former Alexander, now Colton was raised in America by the old lady who quickly got sick by a severe form of cancer. Before she could die, she decided that Alexander had the right to know about his former life and she told him his story before she died in her bed.

After the reveal, Alexander researched all about the information, finding out what his biological parents did and about Decebal, only to blame his older twin brother for what happened.

As a teenager, Alexander was raised more by the streets, doing everything to survive, drug smuggling, stealing and he even killed a man for trying to steal the drug package he was carrying. That's when a hitman saw the 16-year-old boy and took him in, seeing all the hate and rage in Alexander's white eyes.

The hitman trained Alexander to be a ruthless killer, making him a master of sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat. Spending time along with assassins and hitmen, he meets Yumie Takahashi, a female assassin with prosthetic blade legs that quickly took a fancy for him, following him all around to the point where she fell in love with him, but Alexander doesn't return her feelings and used her blind love for him in his own greedy ways, her being his lap-dog.

Later on, Alexander and Yumie meet Nikita Sergei in Belarus while they tried to track down Decebal. They meet the Belarusian during an ambush between the Belarusian Police and the Belarusian Mafia, Nikita being one of the Mafias hitmen.

Nikita was almost killed during that bullet rain between Police and Mafia, only for Alexander to save him, but for that Nikita had to work for Colton, being his left hand next to the right hand, that being Yumie.

The three continued together, Yumie and Nikita assisting Alexander on his mission of annihilating his twin brother, Decebal.

After a brutal fight between the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.

Personality:

Alexander is the complete opposite of Decebal in the matter of personality. Decebal is a happy-go-lucky, easy-going, charming, seductive, and modest guy, while Alexander is brutal, snarky, comes of as straight-up rude, blunt, and sharp-tongued if provoked, but overall keeps to himself since he has a problem with his 'intimacy'.

The smaller twin brother, unlike Decebal who is all laid-back, Alexander has a bad temper, but the type of temper that comes and goes, like the one of a child. He would be considered passive-aggressive.

Alexander doesn't know how to deal with his strong emotions and usually they manifest into a tsunami of uncontrollable feelings; especially when teased about sensitive topics, and may have outbursts of anger which would be considered 'funny' because he gets all red-faced, voice shuttering and doesn't know what to say or how to react. This part of his personality may also come off as very shy and sensitive, especially if people flirt with him because he is socially awkward and he never was one to be good at smooth-talking.

After making peace with his big brother, Alexander may open up little by little, showing good traits of his personality, but is still the opposite of Decebal.

Unlike Decebal, who is very charismatic, sensual, and opened up about his sexuality; Alexander is the very hard opposite, especially considering he had never been intimate with someone. Alexander is very shy when it comes to his intimacy and sexuality, almost to the point if someone presses him with sexual questions he will get all flustered and defensive.

This is a sign that Alexander is very self-conscious about his complete inexperience in the matter of getting intimate. It's a very big irony, seeing how on the battlefield he is very confident in his combat skills.

A good trait of Alexander is that he is a very big hard worker. He has the mentality that you cannot achieve something for free and have to work hard to earn it, since all his life he had to work to make it through life: As a little kid, he had to take care of the old lady that was his guardian until she died, then he had to do everything his Master said if he wanted to achieve the assassin training.

One thing that he shares with Decebal is the daredevil and competitive side, but Alexander's competitive side takes a very serious turn, finding himself willing to challenge his big brother at all kinds of provocations. It's the brotherly antagonistic demeanor.

His favorite drink: Green Tea

His favorite food: Ramen or Chicken and Rice Casserole

Other Characteristics:

Alexander loves fairytales and all types of mythic legends, mostly because the old lady that was his guardian in the first part of his life always used to tell him these types of stories before bedtime.

He is actually a very good cook. When he went to train with his Master Hitman, he has also signed the duty to do the cooking and clean the Masters' house as a form of payment for the training services. The Master would throw the food on the floor or at Alexander if it wasn't good enough and Alexander had to cook the dish again until it was 'perfect'.

He is an earlier riser in the morning, mostly because that's how he was raised; his assassin training started very early in the morning and before that, he had to prepare breakfast for his Master.

He loves to listen to the birds singing in the morning while he drinks his coffee or green tea.

His scent can be described as on a more feminine edge; giving off floral scents like lotus, orchid, and jasmine, with middle notes of vanilla tobacco, bergamot, and white musk.

Unlike his big brother Decebal who is a heavy drinker, Alexander cannot hold his liquor and is a sad drunk, getting depressed over the fact that he was separated from his siblings at birth, especially Decebal. When Alexander gets drunk he tends to mutter to himself 'I wish I never was born'.

Considering his personality, he would be described as a tsundere.

He is a master at chess due to playing with his Master in their free time. He can sit for hours and play chess, probably the only thing he is the most patient with.

He loves hot springs; immersion in warm water produces hydrostatic pressure on the body that results in reduced joint inflammation and increased mobility, plus it helps him relax his vulcanic mind.

He is a smoker just like his siblings, Decebal and Nadia.

Despite his scars and hard training, he has soft baby skin.

Symbolism for Alexander:

Black Panther- speaks to our soul with the shimmering energy of the Moon; this big cat is the ultimate shapeshifter and the master of disguise. Panther’s sleek black coat cloaks its true identity in the shadows. It isn’t until you are close to a Panther that their illusion falls away and who they really become visible. Alexander may seem like a very cold and harsh individual, hard to approach from the distance, but as you get closer and closer to him, pulling away all the layers that hide him, you learn that he is actually a pretty sensitive and misunderstood guy.

The Black Panther is a loner, hunting solitary. They hunt silently, seeming to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye; this means that Black Panther people can be very elusive. You may have to wait for them to find you. This means that you will have to wait and be patient in order for Alexander to open up to you, which cannot happen in one day. People who have the Black Panther as their spirit animal rarely reveal too much about themselves.

The Lotus flower- is a symbol of purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth. Its characteristics are a perfect analogy for the human condition: even when its roots are in the dirtiest waters, the Lotus produces the most beautiful flower. This shows Alexanders' persona, like a lotus bud, in his earlier life and so on, he was buried deep within lots of responsibilities, hardships, and struggles. We can say that once he made peace with his older brother, his blooming slowly started to take place, Decebal acting more so like the essence to Alexanders blooming. Its journey from a muddy seed to a glorious blossom offers the hope that something beautiful can grow from suffering, that we too will eventually bloom.

#Alexander Chirilă #Slasher OCs #Original Character #Assassin #Killer #Murder #Hitman

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miss-eucatastrophe · 4 years

Text

Main Pairing: Levi x Erwin x Mike x Thick!Reader/PlusSize!Reader

Summary: When you purchased your first home you’d anticipated it being a turning point in your life. You just didn’t anticipate that turn to give you whiplash.

A new home throws you into a new lifestyle you would have never thought you’d find yourself in-- with three men you’d never expected to be with.

Rated: Explicit [18+]

Main Tags: Polyamory/Polyamorous relationship, BDSM, Attack on Titain Modern AU, Slow Burn, Porn with Plot, Thick!reader, PlusSize!Reader, Chubby!Reader

A/N: I was gonna wait, but I guess I have no self control.

Chapter 2

A groan left your lips. You were so sore. Who knew that gardening could make someone so sore? Your legs and forearms ached from digging, weeding, and kneeling in the dirt. But the payoff had been near instantaneous. Your little front yard garden was so cute. Time would tell if it would thrive. For now, it was just what you wanted. It was welcoming, and warm; evidence that a new person lived in the house.

“Just gotta keep my flower children from dying.” You mumbled out loud against your pillow. It took great effort to turn your head and face the light shining through your blinds. It was early again. It was shocking you hadn’t been sleeping in late given how busy you were. It was safe to assume it was the excited jitters that came with being a new homeowner. Each day brought a new project. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose, willing yourself to settle your thoughts before they started to list all the things you wanted to do to your house. For now, you settled on nurturing your flower children.

Good ‘ol Google had informed you that you should water your plants every day when you first put them in the ground to get them used to their new home. After that you could settle on a watering routine.

You pushed one foot out of bed, testing the air with your toes like you would a pool, and then groaned, pulling your foot back under the warm safety of the blanket. For a moment you contemplated going back to sleep, but vanquished the idea when the morning sun assaulted your eyes again.

With a determined huff, you threw the covers from your body, taking the plunge into the day. It took you a moment of stretching to drag yourself over to your dresser and throw some clothes on the bed. Something comfortable. You weren’t planning to go out anywhere today, just outside for as long as it took to water your front yard, then you would likely retreat to the comfort of your home. You had a few more boxes to unpack anyway.

After you slipped your clothes on, you made your way down the stairs to your kitchen, petite—but still bigger than your previous. It was the perfect size for a single occupant. In spite of not being hungry in the morning, you forced yourself to make breakfast, hoping the smell of scrambled eggs would coax you into eating by the time it was done. You often skipped out on meals, which was a problem. Perhaps it was one of the reasons for your thickness. Skipping meals could be just as bad as overeating, forcing your body to unhealthily accommodate for the bad habits. It could also be a trigger for overeating later in the day. One of your goals of a new home was to adopt a routine, which included eating regularly.

You spooned your meal onto your plate, adding some toast to it as you made your way to the window of the living room that overlooked your front yard. You yanked open the blinds, eyeing your garden as you lifted toast to your mouth and took a bite. Thankfully, the new plants hadn’t spontaneously combusted in the night. Something you assumed happened if you didn’t have a green thumb.

Noticing movement from the corner of your eye, you turned your head, seeing your neighbor getting into a clean, and rather new looking, truck in an army green color. Mike must have been going to work. You smiled, resisting the urge to wave. He probably wouldn’t have seen you anyway. Moving back to the kitchen table, you sat down to eat your breakfast before placing your dishes in the sink, opting to scrub them later. For now, you’d let them soak. Did they need to soak? No. But letting them soak gave you an excuse to avoid doing them for a few hours until they stared you down later.

Slipping on your shoes, you walked outside and unwrapped the hose from its coil, turning on the spray and providing your plants with much needed sustenance. You started with your potted plants, being reserved with the amount of water you gave your succulents before making your way down the stretch of dirt to the north of your lawn that your new shrubs and flowers called home. You watered your shrubs generously, pausing as you reach your pansies. You glared down at them, some of the flowers had actually had the audacity to wilt slightly. Giving a huff, you changed the function of your hose nozzle, making the flow far gentler as you crouched to examine them more closely.

“If you could not do that, that would be great.” You mumbled at the ungrateful cluster of flowers, eyeing a particularly sad looking petal.

“Flowers being disobedient?” You flinched at the smooth voice and stood right up, turning around quickly. If you hose had been on a higher function you would have sprayed the source. Opting not to take any chances, you quickly moved to stop the flow of water with the switch on the attachment.

You weren’t adequately prepared for what greeted you when you leveled your gaze on the source of the voice. Though after yesterday, maybe you really shouldn’t have been all that surprised. This man was nearly as tall, though not as brawny as your new acquaintance Mike. He had golden hair the color of wheat, and eyes that put oceans to shame under a pair of thick brows. You swallowed, taking note of his jawline and the expanse of his fit torso which was snuggly clad in a white button down. You didn’t realize you could hold contempt for a shirt—but with the sleeves rolled up a pair of strong forearms, it was clear the shirt was hiding impressive goods.

Damn every man in this neighborhood must have been a stud. You weren’t particularly religious, but you felt the urge to praise god for the blessing.

Though he’d probably just strike your down for the unholy thoughts going through your head.

The clearing of a throat brought your eyes back up to the blond man’s face where a smile sat, not the smirk you’d expected from your obvious ogling. “I’m Erwin Smith. I’m your neighbor.”

“Ah, sorry!” you said quickly, setting the hose down by your tennis shoe clad feet. You wiped your palm as discreetly as you could over your thigh to clear it of moisture from the hose and extended it to him. “Nice to meet you, I’m [y/n].” This hand was soft, but all consuming as Mike’s had been.

Mike.

You suddenly remembered, stopping your handshake abruptly to point to what you assumed was the man’s house. “You’re Mike’s boyfriend?” You probably shouldn’t have blurted that; in case you were wrong. After all, Della had made assumptions about you and Sasha the day you’d moved in. But the stranger, Erwin, only tilted his head and chuckled. “Did he mention me? All good things I hope.” His tone was deceptively casual.

“Uh, no,” you mumbled in embarrassment, clearing your own throat this time as a blush rose to your cheeks. “Della told me there was a couple next door.”

Erwin hummed, a deep and satisfying sound, and nodded his head, though in the next breath he’d seamlessly dodged the question. “Della is such a kind woman. Did she bake for you?”

You smiled brightly, remembering the cookies, and not noticing his lack of confirmation. You’d already drawn your conclusions. “Yeah, the cookies were amazing. I’ve got a theory that she’s a witch.” Oops, word vomit. You were worried that male wouldn’t understand you were joking, but he laughed—to your relief.

“When we moved in, she made a cake.” He leaned in closer to you, his voice just above a whisper, “She might be looking to fatten us up and eat us, so be on guard.”

This pulled a giggle from you, and oh what a pleasant sound to Erwin’s ears, “If Hansel and Gretel could handle it, I think we’ll be okay.” The scent of Erwin’s cologne filled your nose, musk and mahogany flooding your senses and the hint of something else too. Ink maybe.

“I sure hope so,” Erwin leaned back, out of your space, “I would hate to lose our new neighbor so soon.”

Biting your lower lip, you took in air that wasn’t saturated with the blonde’s heady scent.

“Yeah, who would care for my flower children if I died so soon?” You teased, gesturing behind you to the new plants which for the most part looked healthy in spite of the stubborn pansies which seemed hell bent on making your life a little more difficult. The last thing you needed to worry about where flowers. Though your anxiety was probably delighted to have yet another thing to obsess over.

You compared your anxiety to a super villain—someone lingering in the shadows and waiting for the smallest display of weakness through your progress—poised to strike.

Erwin’s blue eyes slid over the greenery before looking up at you. “We’d adopt them for you. No need to worry.” You looked over to Erwin’s home where the lovely magnolia tree grew. Their garden didn’t have as many plants with flowers, but what plants were there were clearly well taken care of. It was mostly green, though the magnolia tree added the perfect little pop of color to an otherwise verdant front yard. “At least I know they’d be going to a good home.”

The male chuckled, a sound that hummed from deep in that fit chest. “Can’t take all the credit. Mike takes care of the yard occasionally, but we leave most of it to the gardener.”

Of course, they would have a gardener. Their house was large and immaculate, and in addition to Mike’s well-maintained truck, it was hard to miss the Mercedes currently parked in the driveway. Clearly Mike and Erwin had well-paying jobs. “A plant nanny.” You deadpanned, earning another chuckle from Erwin who’s smile turned fond.

“We’d love to have you over for dinner. We’d like to properly welcome you to the neighborhood.”

You were taken aback for a moment, anxiety flooding your stomach on instinct. The thoughts were instantaneous. ‘What if I make a fool of myself?’, ‘What if I spill a drink?’, ‘What if I eat too much in front of them?’, ‘What if I say something wrong?’, ‘What if—’

A deep breath through your nose.

A subtle exhale from your mouth.

The thoughts were quieted.

Another deep breath through your nose.

Another subtle exhale from your mouth.

Your heart rate significantly lowered.

“I’d like that very much.” You answered before your thoughts could creep in again and dispel your nerve.

You weren’t going to let your anxiety keep you from experiences, especially making friends with your neighbors. You knew if you stopped to think on it deeply you would psych yourself out with overthinking the kind offer and ultimately decline. Best not to let your anxiety or self-consciousness rule your decisions. Therapy had taught you that.

Erwin looked pleased with your answer, his smile touching his blue eyes.

“Wonderful,” he purred, reaching into the pocket of his black slacks to hand you his phone, “Put your number in, if you wouldn’t mind,” he added the last bit to make it less of a command and more of a suggestion, “I’ll text you a date.” You smiled and tapped your name and number into the contacts of his phone, adding a flower emoji just as a playful wink to your conversation before handing the cellphone back to his waiting hand. “Sounds good.”

The male’s smile didn’t fade as he slipped the phone back in his pocket. “I’ll text you later.” He promised, making you return his smile. Though that should have triggered a bit more nervousness, anticipating a text, instead it just put little butterflies in your stomach. Yeah, he was gay—and taken, you reminded yourself again—but you could have attractive friends that were nice to look at. You were allowed to get excited over a little dinner date, no matter how platonic.

As Erwin moved in the direction of his Mercedes, he looked over his shoulder at you. “Don’t be too hard on your flowers,” he fished out his key fob, clicking the button to unlock his car, “It can be hard adapting to a new home.”

Smiling, you leaned down and picked up the hose, clicking the water back on and misting it gently over the pansies once again for good measure, hoping to perk up the wilting petals. “It helps to have someone to pamper you though.” You mumbled absentmindedly, earning a little glance from Erwin before the blond got into his car and sped off down the road.

You thought you had made yourself perfectly clear to yourself that the backyard was not a priority. But after unpacking a few more boxes of miscellaneous objects late into the afternoon, it just seemed to call to you.

You stood at your sink in your kitchen, looking out into the yard from the window as you nibbled on a bite of your lazily made sandwich. Your small kitchen table had already been set up so it’s not like you had to stand to eat any of your meals, but it seemed even when eating you had to pace. You blamed the new environment. It would take time to get comfortable, just like Erwin had said about your flowers. Even though you were excited and loved your new home, it was taking your time to adjust.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked over the yard, as though you were trying to imagine it looking differently than it currently did. You had a rather vivid imagination, you read quite a bit after all, but when it came to mental landscaping you were coming up short. The only reason you were able to spruce up your front yard without much deep consideration was because there was a plot of dirt already prime for flowers. It just lacked anything in it. Picking some things to fill the void hadn’t required a great deal of mental fortitude. The backyard was different.

It wasn’t exactly a mess, but it wasn’t a marvel either. It was a blank canvas of untapped potential—and weeds. A slightly overgrown lawn, lack of any interesting plant life, and boarder of dirt that was begging for flowers much as the front yard had. But you weren’t ready for the amount of plant life the backyard could hold. Being a new plant mother, you needed time to hone your skills. The front yard was plenty for now.

Even so, you couldn’t keep yourself from glaring at the backyard. Maybe it was because it glared back at you from every window. You wanted to look outside and see something pleasing to the eye. Why did hyper fixation always go hand-in-hand with anxiety? You tapped your foot against the floor and chewed your food, willing the nervous energy to dispel.

Fuck it.

You could pluck the weeds.

That might help until you could really bring yourself to get into the project that it would someday be. Besides, you should really keep up on the yard even before fixing it so that it wasn’t more of a hassle in the long run. Weeding it would be a good start, and it might make looking through your windows a bit less bothersome.

You placed your crumb covered plate into the sink and made your way through the sliding glass door to the backyard, taking a little detour to drag the green’s can from the side yard so you would have somewhere to put the weeds after you ripped their stubborn carcasses from the ground.

The poor bastards had no idea what was coming.

Taking a look around you, you once again crinkled your nose in contemplation. At least the lawn was mostly green. It didn’t look as though the previous owner had used the yard for storage or trash. It really didn’t look like the previous owner had used it for much of anything. They clearly couldn’t have been bothered to do much more than turn on the sprinklers, just like the front yard. You narrowed your eyes and scanned the environment, once again trying to channel your creative side. All you could think about were plants for the most part. You weren’t even all that plant crazy until recently. It was just the first thing that came to mind when you thought of the outdoors. You huffed through your nose. Maybe a deck at some point? That would cost money. You sure as hell were not going to build one yourself. IKEA furniture was the extent of your carpentry skills. At least the fence looked pretty good, spare for a hole like crack in one of the planks on the left side of the wall. That should be easy enough to fix. Surely it wouldn’t require the establishment of a whole new fence so at least you’d save some money there.

You gave up your attempt at visualization to pull your gardening gloves onto your hands. You’d take to some online forums for backyard ideas when the time was right. You had to remind yourself that right now you were just focusing on battling the weeds.

You tried to go at it methodically, you really did. You were going to start at one end of the yard and make your way to the other. But each time you bent down to pluck one weed you’d see a huge one from the corner of your eye at the other end of the yard that would distract you. You’d pluck that one, then there would be another at the side of the yard you’d just came from so you’d have to go back again. Pretty soon you were just hopping from whatever weed assaulted your eyes to the next, which mainly consisted of the big ones that had no right existing in the first place.

You were going to kick yourself later when you had to revert back to your original method of going from one end of the yard to the other when it came time to sift through the smaller weeds—but for now the satisfaction that came from yanking the big suckers out of the earth gave you too much momentary euphoria to care. That would be a problem for your future self.

For now, your newest target was spotted. A huge weed growing along the fence line. The number of squats you were inadvertently doing in your quest to de-weed the yard was going to hurt you tomorrow. It was kind of hurting you now. Turning your legs to Jell-O. But you were determined to vanquish every form of unsavory vegetation before sunset. You’d use tomorrow as a day of rest if it came to that.

It was probably going to come to that. Gardening was proving to be a workout in itself.

Pulling yourself to standing, you walked over to the weed by the fence and crouched down, gripping it and giving a firm tug around the stock. But the titan weed hardly budged. You arched a brow and wrapped your other hand around it, tugging once more. You swore the weed pulled back as you rocked on your heels. Frustrated, you sat yourself on your knees and leaned back, trying to use your body weight to get the massive bulb from the earth with a grunt.

At least, you thought you grunted.

Wait that wasn’t you.

You paused; your hands still wrapped around the weed as you stayed frozen in mid tug.

There was another grunt in a masculine tone— which most certainly did not come from you.

“Goddamn it…” The voice was deep, dripping with a sort of smooth roughness that was a complete contradiction that only made sense from hearing it firsthand. It was the sort of tone that held an edge in any words that came from it. In spite of it coming from the direction of your neighbor’s yard, it was not a voice you’d heard before. You were sure you would have remembered it.

“Erwin—fuck!” There it was again.

“Shh…” That second voice you thought you recognized. Finally, your head darted up from your place on your knees out of instinct. You were eye level with the rough hole in the plank you’d noticed earlier that exposed your neighbor’s yard.

And much more than that.

From your viewpoint you could see the edge of a pool, lush plants, a deck further back—but the lovely yard wasn’t what pulled your attention. What pulled your attention was two people on a lounge chair, one propped up by the lifted back, the other straddling across strong hips.

The person sitting back on the lounge was obviously Erwin, naked as the day he was born in the late afternoon sun. Your assumption had been right about his torso. It was in fact sculpted by the hands of god, all firm muscle and definition. You could vaguely make out light traces of hair on it from your distance, what little there was must have been as blond as he was.

However, this isn’t what struck you the most about what you were seeing. Though it was a sight to behold. What struck you the most was that the person in his lap—

Was not Mike.

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, lashes fluttering as if you could wash the other figure away and replace it with Mike. But the person on Erwin’s lap couldn’t be more different and there was no way in hell to confuse the two even with the most vivid of imaginations.

He was smaller, clearly shorter, with a body that was muscular on its own but far more lithe than the bulkier form of Mike. It was hard to see his face at the angle you were given. The lounge was not exactly parallel to the break in the fence, giving an angle that displayed a view of the sinewy back of the stranger, as well as their stark black hair, but no hint to their face in the slightest. But you could see Erwin’s, twisted in pleasure, and even at a distance it was obvious what was taking place.

Swallowing thickly, your eyes drifted down the stranger’s back to a pert round ass currently stuffed with Erwin—which from what little you could see not buried inside, was not an easy adjustment.

“Fuck me harder.” Came that deep voice once again, a commanding growl for more as his hips rolled down on the intruding length.

Erwin grunted, his fingers digging into the man’s waist in a white-knuckle grip as he bucked himself up, thrusting himself into the ravenette. “Beg for it then.” He bit back in a grunt, it seemed to be taking a great deal of effort to keep from fulfilling the request, if his clenching palms and strained voice were anything to go by.

The man on top of Erwin scoffed, lifting his body and sitting himself right back down on his lap, forcing the cock deep inside him before rocking his hips forward and back, pulling a moan from Erwin. “When have I ever begged?” His tone was deceptively even for what he was doing— as if taking that massive length was the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps something he did regularly.

You weren’t so sure you would be able to keep an even tone had you been in the raven’s place even if it had been the hundredth time.

A smirk played on the blonde’s lips, “First time for everything.” You thought you heard, but the voice was quiet, perhaps suddenly conscious that they were outside.

Pale fingers slid up the plains of Erwin’s chest to coil around his neck. “I’ll take it myself.” The black-haired male growled, steadying himself on his knees before he started to bounce on the cock inside him. He pulled himself up, nearly taking the shaft out of his hole before slamming himself back down, muted moans pulling from him each time he forced himself down on the lap with a lewd slapping of skin.

It was at that moment that the weed in your hand snapped, sending you backwards with a yelp. You’d lost your balance, your butt making contact with the soles of your shoes as you plopped down completely on your knees from your previously raised position on them. Ditching the weed, you crawled away from the hole in a panic and covered your mouth with your hand as though you could turn back time and capture the yelp that was already in the air.

It wasn’t until you were a good seven feet from the fence that you allowed yourself to listen for any sound. There was silence for a long while other than your rapidly thumping heart under your palm while you attempted to keep it in your chest. It was only when you heard the faint and distant sound of skin on skin, a sound you’d only hear if you’d known to listen for it, that you allowed yourself to breath. You pulled your mouth shut, not realizing how long it’d been hanging open. You’d probably swallowed a bug or two in your stupor. You couldn’t be sure.

Feeling your pulse throb between your legs, you whined softly, squeezing your thighs together and biting your bottom lip as guilt washed over you. The guilt was rather misdirected, at least it should have been. But you’d felt it for a variety of reasons. The hallow yet heavy sensation sat deep in your chest. You’d peeped on your neighbor, accident or not, a total invasion of privacy. What made it worse was the wetness steadily forming at your core. You’d peeped like a horny teenager and gotten turned on by it.

If the guild from that wasn’t enough—you’d gotten turned on, meanwhile Mike was being cheated on.

That last part stung the most.

Erwin was cheating on Mike.

You paced back and forth in your living room, the tip of your thumb in your lips so you could bite at your nail—a habit you’d thought you’d long since kicked.

How on how on earth were you going to tell Mike that he was being cheated on? Should you tell him at all? Was it really your place?

These where the questions stirring in your mind as you paced. If you continued to traverse one end of your living room to the other, you would likely ware a rut in your flooring.

Plucking your thumb from your mouth, you stilled your feet and pulled your phone from the pocket of your leggings, tapping away on the technological rectangle to bring up Sasha’s number. It was times like this where you needed to get out of your head. So, in these moments you often talked out your thoughts with Sasha. It was the only way to get out of the infinite circle your pondering often became.

‘If you were being cheated on, would you want someone to tell you?’

It wasn’t ten seconds after you sent the text than those little ellipsis came on the screen to indicate your friend was already typing out a reply.

‘What do you know?’

You brought up the keyboard of your phone to explain, but another message quickly followed.

‘Is Connie cheating on me?’

‘I’m gonna serve him in the burgers.’

‘I’m Sweeney Todd-ing this bitch.’

You had to type faster to cut her off. Maybe starting the message like that hadn’t been your wisest move.

‘No!’

You sent the message twice when you saw the ellipsis raise on your screen again, being sure she saw your reply so you could clearly explain.

‘Not you or Connie! I’m talking about my neighbors.’

‘Oh’.

She wrote back, a momentary pause before adding,

‘Don’t tell Connie about me making him into burgers.’

This pulled a smile from you and curbed your anxiety, allowing your heart to still. Leave it to Sasha to calm your nerves with her naturally comedic personality.

‘Anyway, what happened?’

Well that calm was short lived. You remained standing in case you had to get the nervous energy out by pacing again.

‘I met the neighbors. The ones Della told us about when we were moving me in, remember?’

It only took a second for Sasha to text back—she was fast with her fingers even though she had had the same shitty phone for close to 3 years. Only shitty because of the cracked screen that she had more than enough money to fix, but always complained if she got a new one, she would just drop it anyway. You were fairly sure the phone also had a little dent in it, she said it added character.

‘Yeah.’

‘They hot?’

‘Ridiculously.’

‘Niiice.’

You typed hastily to try and stay on topic.

‘Their names are Mike and Erwin.’

‘And they’re hot.’

You snorted but continued typing, trying not to let your thoughts linger on how attractive both the men were. That wasn’t was the discussion was about. You cut to the chase.

‘I accidentally saw Erwin having sex with someone that was NOT Mike.’

The reply actually took a full minute, though it wasn’t long, an indicator that Sasha had probably typed a few different replies but deleted them until settling on what it was she did send.

‘How did you ACCIDENTALLY see that?’

You could hear the accusatory tone through the little blue bubble that held her words.

‘I was in the backyard and I heard a sound and I ACCIDENTALLY looked through a hole in the fence.’

Reading that back—it really did sound like you were some kind of voyeur.

‘It really was an accident. I was weeding.’

These excuses were completely pitiful, and you were the one writing them.

‘So did you accidentally get a good look at who he was screwing?’

‘I only saw his back.’

It was only half a lie. You saw his strong back, his black hair, and an amazing ass.

‘Was he hot?’

Maybe texting Sasha wasn’t as productive as you originally thought.

‘It was a very nice back.’

An understatement if there ever was one. You hastily added to the message.

‘But that’s not the point. It wasn’t Mike. Now I don’t know if I should tell Mike or if I should just mind my business.’

On the one hand, you wanted to have a good relationship with your neighbors, and who they were and were not sleeping with was not something you should be concerning yourself with. Injecting yourself into their love life was something you didn’t feel you had the right to do, especially because you hardly knew the two of them.

On the other hand, you thought about how much it hurt to be cheated on. You imagined Mike, blissfully unaware that the love of his life was sleeping with someone else in their own home and it made your heart sink into the pit of your stomach. You ached for him

‘Are you 100% sure that you saw what you think you saw?’

Taking a moment to recall the memory, a blush creeped up your neck and right up to your face. You shook you head to will the images away, once again ashamed of the heat it stirred between your legs.

‘Yeah. It was clear.’

There was no way to mistake what you saw. They weren’t nude sunbathing, they weren’t naked cuddling, and there was no way the other guy just fell on Erwin’s dick.

This time it took Sasha more than two minutes to answer. She must have been thinking. Maybe even asking Connie what he thought. You hopped not. Connie and Sasha may not have known your neighbors, but you also didn’t want to gossip about them. You honestly just needed your friend’s advice on a difficult situation. One that you’d put your own damn self in.

‘That’s hard. I mean you don’t really know them well enough to say anything, ya know?’

That was something you wrestled with. It would be different if this were a friend who you were close with. It wouldn’t even be a debate if it were someone you knew well, like Sasha. You would tell them in a heartbeat because not telling them would likely have greater consequences. But when it came to Mike and Erwin, you didn’t know them. Again, you reminded yourself that it wasn’t your place.

But if you did form a friendship with them, would you be more obligated to tell Mike? You imagined having a friendship with the men and all the while harboring this dark secret.

There you went again, 100 miles ahead of present.

You chewed your thumb nail again, not noticing that you had once again began to pace.

You must have been taking too long to respond, because another text from Sasha lit up your phone.

‘Who do you think he was banging?’

‘Dunno. They do have a gardener.’

Your reply was meant to be sarcastic. How were you supposed to know? You didn’t know a thing about the guys next door other than they were both attractive and that one was a cheater.

Actually, you were relatively certain that Erwin wasn’t banging the gardener. That man on top of Erwin was too pale to see the sun on a regular basis.

A vibration in your hand made you lift your phone again, expecting another text from Sasha, only to see a message from an unknown number. Your brows knitted together as your finger pressed against the notification, pulling up the text.

‘Hello, [y/n]. It’s Erwin. If you’re available, we’d like to have you over for dinner tomorrow night.’

These guys didn’t waste any time. You’d be thankful about not having to cook if you weren’t harboring a secret about your inviter. You stared at the message, kicking yourself for opening it because Erwin would likely have an alert on his end that said the text had been read. He’d be expecting a reply.

It wasn’t as though you could lie and tell him you wouldn’t be home. That avoidance strategy wouldn’t work with someone who could just peek outside and see if your car were in the driveway. Hiding your car in the garage wouldn’t work when it was still a mess of packed and unpacked boxes you had yet to either toss or organize. Honestly, you weren’t about to be up all night clearing it just to avoid your neighbors. You answered before you had more time to mull it over.

‘That sounds great, I look forward to seeing you.’

Was that too formal? You added the number as a new contact before you could hyper analyze your own words. It was tempting to place the number under the name ‘adulterer’, but you thought better of it. You were just being petty about a matter that you shouldn’t be so invested in. You were going to have dinner with your neighbors and completely forget about what you saw—for your own sanity. You weren’t about to let self-imposed guilt eat you up inside. Though this wouldn’t be the first time.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.” You muttered to yourself, a little mantra you used to say when reminding yourself that something, often some sort of drama, wasn’t your business to involve yourself in or to be dragged into.

Instead, you opted for continuing your conversation with Sasha, steering it toward any other subject possible. By the grace of god, she started asking you about your move and how you were enjoying your new house. Your friend always knew how to distract you. Maybe she felt your nerves through the phone.

She’d known you early in your journey through therapy and knew when you needed to talk and when you needed to be distracted. Sometimes she knew it before you did.

Counting and colors could only go so far. Sometimes a friend was the best grounding tool.

To bad you couldn’t bring her to dinner tomorrow.

You’d be on your own for that.

#levi x erwin x mike x reader #levi ackerman x erwin smith x mike zacharias x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #mike zacharias x reader #mike x reader #plus size!reader #plus size reader

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queenjunoking · 3 years

Text

Wolf Taming Pt. 2

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - drugs - Kidnapping

Note: A continuation of a concept on my twitter

It was a mess when I came down in the morning. She was laying face down in the middle of the cage. I had been planning on just leaving the collar on the sleep deprivation setting for the full 18 hours, but I decided to give her a chance to get some food.

I couldn't help but smirk when I saw the shock hit her and she turned off of her stomach and onto her back and finally realized I was there. She tried to cover herself, an attempt at having some kind of dignity. She would learn soon enough that dignity was a pointless concept for her to hold onto. She wouldn’t be allowed to have that here.

I had it on it's lowest setting. It wasn't even rated 1 out of 10. It was a .5 setting, enough to keep the collars wearer awake but it wasn't supposed to hurt. It only started to hurt if they didn't follow the instructions. Admittedly I didn't explain how it worked to her, I thought it would be good for her to learn on her own.

"Good morning Sasha! What a clever puppy! You figured it all out on your own!" I gave her a loving smile. I wanted to stay calm despite how excited I was to see her. I had decided on her name last night and I was going to use it like it was always her name. Her old one no longer mattered.

Despite how exhausted she was I could see a look of hate in her eyes. I savored it. I wanted her to feel that way. It would be sad if my proud wolf broke already. She tried to swear at me and convulsed slightly as the collar detected she was trying to talk and corrected her.

Truth be told I wanted to tease and torment her. Such a big strong girl left completely helpless. She could overpower me if it wasn’t for the collar. I wanted to rub it in. But... I had special plans for what I wanted to do and they could be ruined if I just started acting like a straight sadist instead of a loving owner.

"I'm so proud of you for figuring out how this setting worked all on your own. You're such a good girl Sasha." Praise and normalization. "You haven't had anything to eat or drink since yesterday. Would you like some food and water? Just shake your head up and down."

It just looked away from me, fuming. I sighed, I didn't want it to get dehydrated, it didn't have anything to drink since getting captured and I really didn't want to go through the effort of strapping it down and giving it an IV.

"Its ok puppy. I understand. I'll give you some anyway. If you were good I was going to turn off the device for a while but I can see we aren't that far yet." I turned my back on it with a smirk. It didn't cry or beg or promise to be good. It had hours of the same sensation that kept it from sleeping ahead of it and it knew that. It was so stubborn though. It made my heart flutter.

I walked over into an adjacent room to get its food. I stored all of it's toys and clothes here. I stroked a few masks, I couldn't wait until it wore one. Various sizes of tail plugs so I could train it to take larger ones. It was important that some kind of training was going on. I had some bathroom options for it in here, I couldn't take it outside to do its business yet. Unfortunately it hadn't earned them yet so it would have to hold it until tonight.

There was a wrapped package sitting on a table by itself. I wanted to open it, but I was afraid it might prompt me to jump the gun and go too fast. I had paid so much money for it and I was desperate to see Sasha wearing it. It was still wrapped for my own good.

After looking through a few cupboards I found where I put her food. The best recommended dog food given the seal of approval from a veterinarian I knew. I wasn’t planning on feeding her dog food forever, I had plans of giving her delicious meals she would love eating out of her dish. But she would have to make an effort first. I didn’t want her to break. I wanted to see her be forced to compromise with me. Willingly doing humiliating things to get little rewards. I filled up a second bowl with a bottle of water from a mini-fridge and brought them to Sasha's cage.

"I'm going to approach the cage. I have the proximity set that as long as you don't move closer to me you won't get shocked. Nod your head if you understand." I sighed as it looked away from me again. The cage had a tiny opening that could be unlocked to slide in food bowls that were much too wide to fit through the bars.

I saw her shudder then flip back to her stomach.

"Be a good girl Sasha. I'll turn off that setting when I get off from work." I turned on a small speaker near her cage and turned to leave but then I heard her speak.

"Bitch." A strained voice. Tired from dehydration and the electricity running through it. She managed a full word despite the pain, it was impressive.

"Sasha, please drink. I changed this setting to only go off every 20 minutes instead of 10. I'll be back tonight. If you won't drink from your bowl I'll have to take some extra steps to be sure you stay hydrated and healthy. Have a good day sweetheart, I love you." I left the basement and went upstairs. Well, upstairs from the wolf’s den, this was her actual basement. Sasha had a special floor all to herself that had a hidden entrance to be sure that if a snoop ever entered her house they would never find it.

When I was shopping for a house, other people in the group I was in gushed about how great secret entrances were and how useful they were. I had to admit, I always wanted a secret door in my house. Even if Sasha escaped from her cage the door could not be opened by anyone but me, she was trapped down there. I sealed the entrance and made my way to work. I had a lot of work to do today but all I could think about was returning home and seeing my new pet again.

#Juno Concepts

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iwillsithereandtrytocontribute · 3 years

Text

Solus

Pairings: None

Warnings: Nightmares, parent death (past, not described in detail),

Masterlist Ao3

Spoilers for the Rome Arc

I’ve been having a lot of Feelings about Sasha, Rome, and the letters so have this. I’m planning on having a sort of series follow-up, but we’ll see how I much I get done of that.

Some quick notes:

1. The title "Solus" is Latin for alone. 2. There's some Latin interspersed in the text, it should be translated right after. If not, please let me know. 3. My personal headcanon is that Sasha did name a kid Brock and just didn't mention it because none of the people receiving this letter actually knew Brock.

Enjoy :)

Sasha Rackett has had her life torn apart a thousand times, a thousand ways. She’s lost her parents, her friends, her rivals, her mentors, and everyone in between. Growing up in Other London though, you learn to be tough. To have a thick skin so that if you can’t dodge the knives they still can’t leave a mark.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. So much has happened in the span of three days. She went to Rome, saved Beaming Gusset and the other hostages, time traveled, lost her friend, and watched the fall of Rome in real time. And here she is trudging along in the countryside that surrounds what was once Rome. The gutted empty shell she’d seen 2,000 years in the future now that the dragons had had their fill of revenge.

Sasha is not alone for once, though sometimes she can’t quite decide if it’s a blessing or a curse. She thinks maybe somewhere in the middle. She’s grown used to being around company, even just those few friends, the past couple months. Gods, it’s only been a month or two since she left London behind, likely forever. Does London even exist now?

Cicero follows doggedly behind her. It’s his turn to hold the kid. Sasha couldn’t save everyone. Hell, she could barely save anyone, but they couldn’t ignore the child they found, half buried under the rubble. Somehow he had survived. And somehow they had found him. Sasha couldn’t save everyone, she couldn’t save Grizzop, but she could save him.

Cicero looked up to catch Sasha’s eye and she realized with a start that she’d been staring at him. She nodded at him awkwardly and he nodded back.

“Water?” Sasha asked, forgetting where she was for a minute. “Um, right sorry,” she continued seeing Cicero’s confused expression. “Right. Á-áqua? Right? Or is that Spanish,” Sasha mused to herself. Judging from the change in Cicero’s expression she’d gotten it right. He carefully laid the kid down and took the water skin as Sasha offered it.

As he drank, Sasha took stock of their combined injuries. Cicero is looking a lot better than he did yesterday, even going on with no sleep as they are. His main injuries were healed by the potion and he had gotten over the shock well enough. Sasha had had worse. And the kid probably had some head trauma, fading in and out of consciousness like he was. So all in all, they might look like hell, but they were surviving.

“Témpus?” Sasha tried in her broken Latin. The potions they’d taken back in Rome had long since worn off, leaving a language gap with a thin bridge across, held up by the few Latin lessons she had taken back when Barret had sent her to Upper London for “an education.”

Cicero held up 4 fingers. “Quáttuor hóra.” 4 hours. Sasha nodded and took a deep breath. She took the water skin back and hooked it onto her belt. She counted her daggers obsessively, checking and double-checking that her spring-loaded wrist sheaths were loaded. Finally satisfied, she lifted the kid as gently as she could, muscles screaming in protest as she lifted him, and continued in the direction Cicero had pointed in as they left the destruction of Rome.

“I know a place,” he had said. “This way.” Sasha had followed because what else could she do? She was alone, alone, as out of her element as it was possible to be. So she followed.

It took them just over 5 hours to reach the house. The villa really. It was large, with wide sprawling grounds and tall pillars that surrounded the courtyards. Sasha slumped slightly with relief. Here was a place to rest, if only for a little while.

Cicero gestured her inside, staggering in behind her, his legs weak beneath the kid’s weight. He wasn’t particularly large, but they had been trading him off for hours with little to no rest. They had been too anxious to get away from Rome. Sasha didn’t know much about the fall of Rome, and certainly if the dragons had decided to pick off the few people who had escaped the city no one would have known about it regardless. Cicero seemed to share her anticipation if not her thought process, and had agreed without question not to sleep for the night.

Sasha sighed, rubbing her forehead. She was going to have to learn Latin wasn’t she?

She made sure the kid was taken care of. The villa seemed pretty empty, but she trusted Cicero a moderate amount at this point. Something about living through an apocalyptic event with someone makes you want to trust him. Sasha would not be surprised to learn later that the villa was owned by a rich family. All of whom were in Rome at the time of its fall. At its center. The chances of their survival were slim to none. They did not turn up to reclaim their home.

Finding a room for the kid, she’s started calling him Brock in her head, was easy. Sasha sits in a chair across from the bed, intending to keep an eye on him for just a little while. It wouldn’t do for him to wake up alone. Sasha has woken up alone before.

The dark she loves so much, suddenly pressing in close. The bedsheets, blankets, her own clothing, suddenly tight and strangulatory. Her panicked heavy breathing as she pads down the stairs to her parent’s bedroom, silent as ever, only to find a pristine, empty bed. Huddling, knees close to her chest as she instructs herself over and over not to cry. Failing.

Sasha wakes up with a start, knife immediately in hand and held to her attacker’s throat. Cicero blinks uncomfortably, shaking slightly as he carefully removes his hand from Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha wrenches her dagger from his neck in a motion so quick it looks as though she was never holding a dagger at all.

Looking outside she can see the sun setting. She must have fallen asleep. She’s no stranger to nightmares, though that one’s worse than most. Sasha rubs at her eyes as Cicero tries to lead her out of the room.

“No. No, wait. We shouldn’t leave him alone!” Sasha pulls away, only to be caught by Cicero again. “Um, um.” Sasha racks her brain. “Solus,” she says, pointing at the kid. Alone. Cicero nods, pushing her towards the door again. Sasha tries protesting again, when he lets go of her to sit in the chair he had found her in.

Sasha nodded with understanding. “Grátiās.” Thanks. Cicero returns the nod with a tired smile.

“Sómnus.” Sleep.

Sasha understands. And she sleeps.

Not without nightmares.

There’s the usual contenders; losing Brock, losing her parents, Barret’s manipulation, a particularly gory end to a co-conspirator from an Other London heist. But over the last months, she’s gained oh so many more. In her dreams she listens to Mr. Ceiling tear her mind and body apart, feels her humanity slip away, sees Zolf leave, and Grizzop die. Over and over she sees and feels spears plunge, needles prick, knives slice, and magic burn. Sasha does not remember the last time she slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, but the dreams have only increased in number and intensity.

Sasha does not remember the last time her eyes were clear of their deep circles, that against her pale skin give her a sickly glow even when she’s not mostly undead.

Sasha wakes up, and stays awake when the sun rises over the gently sloping hills surrounding the secluded villa. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gives a small smile at the beautiful scarlet red sunrise. Her smile fades when she sees the thick wall of smoke at the edge of the horizon, assisting the sun in painting a blood red sky.

A painful reminder that Rome has fallen and Sasha was here to see it. Alone.

Years later

They went back. Back to the city once they were sure the dragons had had their fill of it. They found so very few to save. Mostly children. So many children. Sasha’s heart broke to hear their cries, to see them clutching at the torn clothes of their parents as they came to save them. They aren’t alone anymore.

Some were too young to know their names, too young to remember their families in a couple of years. Sasha gave them names. Amidus, Wilde, Brock, Azu, Grizzop, Sagax for Zolf, even Bertus. It took a couple years for the sad smile she had whenever she said their names to turn genuine, but it did happen eventually. It was as much a way to remember her friends as her yearly trips to the temple of Artemis in the nearest city were.

She taught them everything she knew. Acrobatics, stealth, throwing daggers, how to detect traps, the whole lot of it. Cicero covered the more academic side of things, the villa had a decent library, and all things considered he was a good teacher.

Sasha had never expected to live long. It just didn’t happen in Other London. Before she left, Barret was the oldest person she had ever seen and he wasn’t far past fifty. Besides, her line of work was dangerous. Yet, here she was, living. Passing down a legacy to these kids. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted someone to learn what she knew, how much she wanted to pass down her knowledge.

She found that fulfillment in the children and teenagers they rescued from the still-smoldering ruins of Rome. And they found new lives with her and Cicero.

Still, on the days she felt like she was forgetting her old life, Sasha would slip away. To a secluded spot in the orchard that only she knew about and slide on her old leather jacket, and she would just take a moment to remember.

Remember gruff Zolf, with more rough exterior than a ship covered in barnacles. The first to make her a partner rather than someone to order around. Flighty little Hamid, gods Sasha missed his hugs. Out of all of them, he was the one who’d stuck around the longest. The soft, kind Azu and her complete understanding. It was rare that Sasha could find someone to be silent with, and yet there Azu was. Grizzop, who practically vibrated whenever he got angry. Sasha always started crying by this point. Grizzop, who had given everything to protect her. And Wilde. After all their time spent together, Wilde had grown on her. Sasha still thinks of puns he would like sometimes. She writes them down on a sheaf of paper. Maybe he’ll get them one day. Even Bertie’s sharp edges have been softened with time, and memory always puts a hazy glow on the past. Sasha knows he was horrible, but he’s still a part of the best and worst months of her life, so she can’t just forget him.

One day, many many years after Sasha has been trapped in the past she sits down to write a letter. One that she hopes might someday reach her friends. Her only way to say goodbye.

She’s been writing them letters for years. Hamid, Azu, Wilde, even Zolf in the vain hope that they will find them.

They are a mix of English and Latin, it’s been so long since she’s spoken or written in her native language, she can hardly remember it anymore. As time passes, they become almost entirely Latin. Sasha knows they’ll find a way to read them.

She’s getting on in years now, so much older than she ever dreamed of being. So she writes each letter knowing it might be her last, not that she ever believed any different.

She signs each one with the name her family gave her. Both of them.

Whosaskinus “Sasha” Lolomg

So... Here. Like I said, I have plans to make a short series with some letter Sasha writes to the party (because there’s no way it was just the one) and I really like writing in her voice. If you’d like to be tagged in that when I post it please let me know. If you just want to chat my inbox is open. Stay safe :)

#rqg #rusty quill gaming #sasha rackett #rqg cicero #rqg spoilers #rqg fic #jasper writes

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

don’t go where I can’t follow

I don’t know guys, I’m sad so I wrote some sad podcast twins

Please leave a comment on Ao3!

Trigger Warnings: Underage Drinking

----

Juno hated waking up more than any other part of his day. And, this morning, he hated it even more.

Dry mouth and cracking headache that had made its home, all nice and cozy like, right behind his eyes. The tacky, sour taste on his tongue that told him he’d thrown up last night and probably would again before the morning was through. A disconnected feeling in all his limbs, lying there in pieces, a dismantled puppet in too many parts. His head rocking like his bed was bobbing in the middle of the ocean.

And, already, before he’d even twisted his face into an expression of disgust, flashes of last night. A best bits clip show of all the ways he’d made a complete ass of himself in the previous twenty four hours, shoving him over the edge of these fresh ones with the heavy realisation that he’d probably fuck them up just as badly.

Juno finally got out his groan, turning his face to the pillow, taking a bleak assessment of all the smells on his breath. Gin. Beer. Vodka. What the fuck was that, was that vermooth? Where the hell had he gotten that from? Had he gone back in time to the 1920s? And overlaying it all the thicker smell of what it had all come back up. Hopefully not on someone else, hopefully not in the middle of his classmate’s living room. But Juno knew better than to hold out any hope.

He was grateful, for once, for the miserable drabness of his and Ben’s bedroom. No bright colours to make his eyes ache worse, no sunlight making it through the smog of Oldtown to sneak in through the broken blinds. Just the plain brown walls and the plain brown carpet, the dull stains on everything. He was glad Ben’s attempts to liven it up had died around the time they were six.

Ben. That thought snagged on something and he lifted his head to peer into the identical bed across from his own. He felt anxiety pinch for a second before he remembered it was Sunday and Sunday meant dance classes. Ben had three paper rounds to fund those classes and the bus to get him from Oldtown back up into Halcyon, he wasn’t going to miss them even if he was as wretchedly hungover as Juno. Which Juno doubted, Ben always had the good sense to drink water and all that crap before bed.

And, yeah, there it was. A glass left on Juno’s side table, gathering some dust now like anything left unattended in their house for more than five minutes. Ben’s way of tugging him towards some kind of functionality, even when he’d been too belligerently drunk to listen.

Juno sighed and drained the glass, of course it was exactly what he needed. He wiped off the thin trail that ran out the side of his mouth and sat up, the movement dragging a whine of pain through his teeth as his body protested. One glass of water wasn’t going to be enough to bring him back from the dead.

He was still wearing his party clothes under the duvet, the sequinned drop sleeve shirt and billowy skirt, his only nice clothes now rumpled and sweat stained. He couldn’t see but he had no doubt his make up was a state too. He brought a hand up and confirmed there was mascara congealing in clumps on his eyelashes, glitter shedding from his eyelids and…

Why was their lipstick halfway to his cheekbones? Had he tossed and turned enough to ruin it that much? But there was none staining the pillow as there should be if some nightmare had been throwing him this way and that, sending him cowering against the bed enough to rub off his lipstick. Juno winced. The only explanation left was that he kissed someone last night, kissed them hard enough and sloppily enough that he made this ruin of his face. As if this morning couldn’t get any worse.

He didn’t really want to know, there was no one at his school he’d be willing to admit he’d made out with, but Juno couldn’t help but run through the candidates anyway. Carlos, maybe, he was cute enough but he’d hated Juno’s guts since he wrecked their science experiment back when they were partners in freshman year and he’d cost them a final. Appoline could be a possibility, she’d been staring at him all night but he’d thought she looked more likely to punch him in the nose than kiss him. Maybe Dev but they’d been even drunker than he was, they hadn’t looked fit to stand, let alone make out with someone. Oh god, please don’t let it have been Sasha…

Juno froze, stomach clenching sudden and hard and he’d been positive for a horrible second that he would vomit all over his bed. Memories crashed down on him like an ice cold wave. Throbbing lights, music that barely qualified for the title, stolen champagne drying stickily on his fingers. Something making sense in the way things only did when the world was coloured by liquor. And a very, very bad decision.

The muffled sound of the front door slamming into the wall of the hallway made Juno jump. Not because that was an uncommon sound, that was how ma always came in whether she’d had a good day or a bad one. Juno jumped because he knew that wouldn’t be ma, not with the way his luck was going.

Angry, heavy footsteps in the hall, ones their owner was deliberately making audible for effect. And then, the bedroom door flew open.

“Juno, you asshole!” Benzaiten screeched.

The worst thing about an angry Ben was the tears. They came tumbling down his cheeks in an endless tide, making his skin a blotchy and furious red. That was the worst part by far, knowing you were the cause of those tears.

“Ben, listen…” Juno croaked, cringing back against the headboard.

“There were loads of people you could have kissed at that party!’ Ben threw the door back into its frame, nearly cracking the wood, “Loads of people! And the one you picked was my fucking boyfriend?”

Juno wanted to curl up in a ball so tight he would just disappear. He hadn’t kissed Sasha or any of his classmates. He’d kissed Mick. Mick Mercury. The tall, perpetually grinning idiot they’d been friends with since they’d moved to Oldtown. And his brother’s boyfriend.

“Ben, I’m sorry,” Juno closed his eyes tight against the headache and the tears that were building up. He didn’t have a right to cry right now, he knew that, “Listen, it wasn’t Mick’s fault…”

“Yeah, I know that!” Ben raged. He was still in his dance gear, curls kept back by a headband.

He usually looked so calm after class, the happiest he’d be all week, like there had been something building up inside him he’d only managed to shake off during those two hours. He’d walk on the balls of his feet like he didn’t see their shitty house and their shitty town and their shitty life, like sun shone out of his skin.

And Juno had taken it away from him with one stupid, drunken decision.

“He called me and told me everything, he told me you came up to him when he’d been drinking and wouldn’t be able to tell us apart and you didn’t speak so he wouldn’t know and you kissed him,” it all came rushing out of Ben like a burst pipe, the tears still dripping from his chin onto Juno’s blanket, “And I believed him because he isn’t a fucking asshole, like you. I can’t believe you’d do that to me, Juno!”

“I didn’t think like that, I wasn’t trying to hurt you!” Juno’s heart wrenched, “I just…”

What had he been thinking? Why had he done it?

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ben snapped, hand reaching for the first thing he could grab. It ended up being a pillow, thankfully, because he pitched it right at his brother’s head. His headache didn’t take kindly to that, pain exploding at the base of his skull.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, I don’t want to hear apologies because guess what, it isn’t going to be enough this time!” Ben scowled, reaching again, “He’s my boyfriend, Juno, after everything I told you about how much he means to me? You’d go and try and take him?”

“I wasn’t!” Juno managed to lurch away from the book that came flying at him next, “I...I just…”

“Shut up!” Ben yelled, sitting down on his own bed, head in his hands, “Shut up and let me be pissed at you!”

Juno bit his lip, guilt hot and prickling under his skin. The only thing he’d ever been good at, the only thing he’d ever strived for, was to be as decent a big brother as he could be. It was written on every one of his cells, right down in his DNA. He was the eldest so he had to do everything he could to protect Ben, to put his happiness above his own. It was all he could do to keep going sometimes.

And he’d hurt him worse than anything ever had. Worse than Ma, worse than the bullies at school, worse than the bad luck that clung to them like oil that never washed off.

Juno knew he’d been told to shut up and that for once he should listen but he couldn’t help it, “Benzaiten, you should be angry at me, I’m never going to tell you you shouldn’t. I fucked up so badly.”

“Yeah,” Ben mumbled tearfully, shoulders shuddering, still not looking at him, “You did.”

“But I didn’t do it to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, Ben. I mean, I know I did and I know I’ve done it before and I said sorry and it meant less than dirt…” God, he was crying, sobs building up in his chest, making himself even angrier at himself.

He could feel Ben’s gaze on him, not angry but wounded. Wanting answers, in spite of what he’d said.

“I didn’t do it because I want to take away what you and Mick have,” Juno tried to say things he only knew were true but it was hard to pick them out of the roiling mess in his head, “He’s good for you, he knows I’d break his jaw if he wasn’t.”

“Then what were you trying to do?” Ben sniffed, rubbing at his eyes like he was six rather than sixteen.

Juno forced himself back into those memories, even as he wanted to recoil away from what he’d done. He remembered the flute of champagne he’d stolen from some senior girl who was busy sucking the face of the girl hosting the party. He remembered going out into the front yard, where Mick was sitting, watching the cars go by as he liked to do when he got tipsy and moony eyed. He’d turned when he’d heard heels on the wooden porch and his whole face had lit up with such pure and uncomplicated joy, the way he’d always looked at Benzaiten…

Juno took a deep, shuddering breath, “I...when he saw me and thought it was you, he looked at me so...well, like a guy in love. And it was so nice and soft and...and it hit me that no one is ever going to look at me the way he looks at you. No one is going to love me like that. And...and I just wanted to keep hold of it for a few moments because I’m stupid and selfish and awful. Okay?”

Ben didn’t say anything, looking at his brother through tear beaded eyelashes.

“We kissed but he realised it wasn’t you,” Juno continued thickly, “And as soon as he did, he pulled away and he was apologising and crying and he ran away. He really didn’t mean it, Ben. He really cares about you.”

“I know that,” Ben murmured, shoulders slumping as some of the tension left him, “And someone will care about you too, Juno. But it won’t happen until you stop thinking it won’t, y’know? You treat yourself like crap and it makes you do stuff like this...and yeah, then people are going to think you’re a dick if you act like one.”

Juno rubbed at his eyes, mascara coating the heel of his hand, “Maybe I am just a dick, has anyone ever considered that?”

“No because it isn’t true,” Ben aimed a kick at him that wasn’t really a kick at all, just a nudge with his foot, “You’re not a dick. Just apologise to Mick and maybe don’t drink too much and kiss other people’s boyfriends?”

Juno sighed, plucking at his blanket, “I mean, I’ll do my best. I sure as hell won’t kiss yours anymore.”

Ben rolled his eyes, red rimmed now but the tears had stopped. He threw another kick in his brother’s direction, one that meant a little more business, “Don’t do it to anyone! Maybe you’re done with parties for a little while.”

“Yeah,” Juno admitted, running a hand through his hair, “I feel like shit.”

“You look like it too.”

“Shut up…”

Ben managed a rough laugh, leaning back against the wall. Juno sank back onto his side, wincing again, wrapping his arms around his pillow and trying to find a position where his head wouldn’t throb so badly.

After a while, he mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Ben?”

“Yeah, Super Steel?”

“Just...promise that when we’re grown up and you and Mick are married and you’re off being the solar system’s most famous dancer somewhere on another planet...just promise you’ll still call me?”

He couldn’t see Ben’s smile but he heard it, “What makes you think I’m not gonna bring you with us? I’m not going anywhere without my brother.”

Juno smiled crookedly into his pillow, hoping he wouldn’t see the relief on his face.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Benzaiten.”

#juno steel #benzaiten steel #twin feels #angst #set during their high school years #ben/mick #do they have a ship name?#tpp #the penumbra podcast #tpp juno #tpp ben #sorry #please reblog and comment!

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billie-ford · 4 years

Text

1 2 3

What Comes After

The morning sun rolled over the Hilltop colony like a warm blanket; a golden shine of reassuring hope that today would be better than the last. The rays that shone over the tall walls of the community made the smoke of Billie’s cigarette almost entirely opaque as she brought it to her lips for another drag.

It was the first sense of peace she’d felt in days despite the underlying melancholy that had become her, soaking in the warmth that touched her skin as a gift opposed to a nuisance for the first time since that awful morning while she watched the community come to life.

“Would you be bothered if I asked how many hours of sleep you got?”

Billie watched as Sasha emerged from Gregory’s mansion and approached her trailer, taking a seat on the stair below her before lighting up her own smoke when the box was offered.

“Not as bothered as you would be by the answer.”

Sasha’s smiles were always so warm. Warmer than the sun. She donned a fresh pair of clothes gifted by Hilltop’s resident laundry hanger and the already worn in appearance led Billie to believe that Sasha was losing hours of sleep too.

“You know,” Sasha’s chest swelled with a deep sigh, “it’s been hard to close my eyes for more than a second since the other night. Much less fall asleep for more than a minute.”

“It plays over and over again in your head doesn’t it?” She nodded. “Yeah...me too. You been in to check on Maggie yet?” Billie took one last deep drag of her cigarette, her first of many for the day, and stubbed the butt out on the traction of her boot.

“Not yet. I passed Dr. Carson in the hallway and he said she was still asleep.”

“What about..uhm..them?”

Sasha frowned, eyes falling to the ground as she shook her head. “I haven’t really been able to stomach it. We should wait for Maggie to wake up..then we can all go together.”

“Sure, guess we can.”

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under Millie’s heavy boots as she walked down the long, deserted road. The coming of Autumn made the already dismal roads that much more gray and with the new addition of crunching leaves and wind blown twigs, that much more dangerous too.

Dawn had barely broke when she began her journey; tip-toing carefully throughout the house she shared with Eugene and Rosita while packing her bag and running through the streets of Alexandria as quick as she could to avoid being spotted. By the time she had hopped down from the community walls her clothes were already splattered in blood, burying her old aunt’s bowie knife in skull after skull when the crunching leaves beneath her boots gave away her position to the multitude of walkers roaming around the other side. She had walked for miles by the time the sun had fully set in the sky, checking her wrist at every street sign; the directions to Hilltop scribbled down her pale skin in blue ink.

She missed her aunt, her godmother, her guardian now that her father was dead. Being home without Billie was almost unbearable. Since that night, nobody in the community treated her the same; crossing the street when she approached, refusing to look her in the eye, stumbling over their words when they so much as mentioned his name. They were either avoiding her or they were overbearing, and their apologies and eulogies just barely clung to their tongues. She was looking for any excuse to get out, and going to see her father’s grave was just excuse enough. It troubled her deeply that she never got to say goodbye to her dad, not even a last glace. Sasha had been quick to obscure Millie’s vision when the first blow of the bat landed and as the days rolled on a part of Millie was thankful for it - but a part of her also resented Sasha for not giving her that closure.

As she trekked along she wondered if he was buried or burned. If a memorial of flowers and other trinkets had been placed in the wake of the fallen. She remembered that Billie had hand carved a sign for Kenny’s cat when he eventually died, she would do the same for her own brother. Something told her Billie wouldn’t let anyone burn her brother, and it was that feeling that drove Millie to make the journey to Hilltop.

The infirmary was empty when Sasha and Billie entered, Dr. Carson looking up to the door when it whined on its hinges. At the far back of the sickly white room was Maggie, just a lump of steady breathes beneath her just as white sheets.

Her eyes cracked open ever so slightly upon the feeling of Sasha’s hand on her arm and she smiled weakly at the two who had worked tirelessly to assist her here. She was frail, her eyes sunken and her skin so pale it edged on blue. She had just barely the energy to lift an arm to clutch Sasha’s hand.

“Welcome to, beautiful,” Billie patted Maggie’s leg, “’member us?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How ‘bout Dr. Carson? Resident life saver here at the Hilltop?”

Just over Billie’s shoulder stood the striking doctor with a kind smile of his own when his patient looked at him. “How long have I been down?” She asked.

“A little over three days,” Carson answered. “You suffered from the condition abruptio placentae; it’s a separation of the placenta from the uterus. It’s unusual this early, but uh, could be brought on by severe trauma. Possibly the bruises on your abdomen-”

“Did I-I...lose..?” Maggie exhaled sharply, almost too afraid to ask. Even more afraid to hear the answer.

“No.” She let out her held breath. “Thanks to your friends. Had they not got you here when they did things might have looked much worse.

Baby’s heart rate is normal but you’re going to have to take it easy for a few days. You don’t want to exacerbate the separation any more.”

“Where is he?” Maggie asked, looking between her friends. “Where are they both?”

“I took care of it.” “I want to see them.” “You heard Carson.” “Billie, please.”

Billie looked to Carson, sharing a look of concern with the doctor. He cleared his throat, “just make sure she goes slow and get her straight to bed afterwards.”

Before he could say any more, Maggie was throwing her covers to the floor and standing on shaky legs as the two raced to either side of her to hold her steady. Much like the morning they had arrived. ‘Easy, easy, easy.’ Billie cooed.

“Straight to bed.” Carson reiterated as they guided her out of the door and into the hot sun.

Billie sat on a rock as she watched the two stand over the graves she had dug, slicing her breakfast of a single green apple with her hunting knife before chucking the pieces between her teeth dispassionately. Her frown was heavy and her eyes almost burned at the sight of the graves she wished she could forget. It was like a nightmare she couldn’t shake; vigorously digging her own brother’s grave before rolling his headless body into the dirt before doing the same for one of her best friends. She reached into her pocket, feel the brass chain cool her fingertips as she pulled the pocket watch from the place it had been nestled for the last three days.

“Here.” She called out to Maggie, reaching out and dropping the accessory into her open palm. “It was in Glenn’s pocket,” she scoffed, “all Abe had was a cigar..”

The pain was pronounced. For all of them. Tears welled in every eye of the trio as they tried in vain to make any sense of it - how they would go on without their leader, without the ones they loved.

Maggie placed the watch over Glenn’s grave lovely as Billie wondered if back home, in Alexandria, there was anything left to honor her fallen soldier with. There had to be something more than a smelly old cigar now stained terribly with near black blood.

Sasha’s eyes darted over Abraham’s grave, searching for an answer she wouldn’t find. “Everything feels so wrong..”

“Not everything.”

Maggie’s optimism was admirable and Billie felt she was once that way; able to find even the tiniest of gems when she dug through all the dirt. But now, now she just felt irritated by the glimmer of hope in Maggie’s eyes, and when a Hilltop member peeked in to whisk her away she leapt at the chance.

It was Bertie who had recognized Millie first when she was stopped at the gates of Hilltop and smiled at her before running off to fetch Billie. Billie’s eyes widened in shock when she saw her niece walk through the gates and ran to gather her in her arms, checking her for injuries and swiping at the splatters of blood painting her skin. It wasn’t her own, Millie promised. “Are you- what are- Why are you here?”

“I missed you...all of you.” “Millie?” “Hey, Sasha!”

Sasha appeared at Billie’s side with the same surprised look before hugging the teen tightly. It was a relief to see her alive and well after the night they all suffered, but one more Alexandrian in a community they weren’t supposed to know about meant one more person to hide when the saviors finally rolled around for their pick ups.

“You can’t be here, Mills. It’s not safe for you, you have to be home.” A look flashed behind Millie’s eyes, a sadness that sunk her shoulders and clenched her jaw. It baffled Billie just how much she looked like her father when she did such a thing, how their twin hues of blue in their eyes would darken like a mood ring and their lips pressed into a thin line. So much of how they were feeling could be conveyed in their eyes alone. Billie sighed. “I came to see him, didn’t you?” She nodded.

The women shared a look and Sasha, the woman who was well on her way to becoming her step-mother, grabbed Millie by the hand gently. “I’ll take you.” She spoke softly. “We can go back to Billie’s trailer after and I’ll make you something to eat. Sound good?” Millie nodded and with one last yearning look to her aunt she went off with Sasha to finally see her father’s resting place.

Billie watched them disappear beyond the grove before dashing behind the guards post and sinking to the ground with accelerated panic. With Maggie’s oncoming pregnancy, Millie’s sudden appearance, the looming shadows of the saviors and her own grief she has yet to properly deal with, it was all becoming too much for Billie. As her breath became harder to catch and a fresh round of hot tears reached her eyes, Billie realized she was officially having a panic attack.

Jesus had just emerged from the mansion, the tips of his ears hot from another argument with Gregory when he spotted the woman across the grounds, the same woman he was just defending up in Gregory’s office. He rushed for her, dodging community members to be by her hyperventilating side.

“Billie! Hey, hey, hey...” He squeezed her arms softly while they shook from her sobs. “Billie, can you look at me?”

Jesus had seen many panic attacks within the Hilltop walls; new comers barely getting a grip on life within the walls, losing loved ones, just life in general. Yet seeing it now, with her, felt completely foreign. This wasn’t the person he had met on the road just weeks ago; who had pistol whipped him when he tried to steal supplies from herself and her brother, who had gotten into a sarcasm battle with Gregory and won, who had snapped Andy’s arm when he got into a fight with Abraham. This was just a shell of that person.

Her eyes met his, half-lidded bambi eyes ringed with red. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth to stop its quivering.

“Just watch me okay? Breath like this, in,” he inhaled, “and out.” After a few repetitions she followed, her gaze breaking from his to his hands on her wrists as her breathing steadied and her heart slowed to a normal patter. He released his gentle grip before sitting back in a crisscrossed position. “May I ask what that was about?”

She shrugged. “I’m just...overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed generally means someone needs a break.” “I can’t take a break. Too many people need me.”

Jesus sighed, looking off into the community. “I don’t think Sasha or Maggie would hold it against you for looking out for yourself. You aren’t sleeping, that much I can see...it’ll only make things harder for you if you don’t take a step back now.”

Billie kissed her teeth, rolling his words around in her head. “S’at your professional opinion?”

“Personal. We’re just friends here.” He smirked. “One can only hold so much before they start to crumble, Billie. That’s what community - family - is for. We share the load when some of us start to crack.”

Knowing it and hearing it were two very different things. She knew she was taking on too much, she always did, but someone else knowing it and seeing it...it made her feel too vulnerable. Being seen made her feel vulnerable. Billie liked Jesus. He was a pain in her ass when they caught him on the side of the road but since introducing them to Hilltop, showing them that there was so much more in the world, she’s considered him almost a brother.

Their gentle interaction was suddenly disrupted by the roaring sound of engines and Kal’s boots above them stomping along the wood of the guards post.

“The Saviors are coming!”

The pair jumped up from the grass like a fire had been lit beneath them and Jesus grabbed her by the wrist roughly, throwing caution to the wind as he pulled her quickly behind the trailers. If she was seen by any of the Saviors that were on the road that night they’d know the communities were colluding. Knowing they were colluding meant consequences for both of their communities; consequences including their death.

“Come on, I know a place to hide.” They were now dashing along the wall of the colony as the gates opened and trucks of Saviors flooded in.

That dreadful panic settled back into Billie’s stomach as she ran in time with Jesus as she wondered where Sasha, Maggie and Millie were. Where they inside the mansion? A trailer? Still at the graves? She feared they got caught up with Gregory, knowing that if it benefited him he would sell them out in a second.

“Here.” Jesus stopped along the wall furthest from the gate, standing in front of a large crate of wood. “They don’t know about this.” Before Billie had the chance to question him he was lifting the logs, revealing a secret bunker within. She supposed it was made for this very reason; hiding for something that shouldn’t be in the colony. “I’ll come get you when they’re gone. Two knocks. Stay quiet.”

It was a tight fit, scratching the walls and bearing splinters in her biceps while Jesus watched over his shoulder. He casted one last look her way, bright blue eyes filled with worry before shutting the top and encasing her in darkness.

Her breath was ragged, terrified, and she held it periodically when she thought she had heard something. It felt like hours spent in the pitch black bunker, rocking in the cold dirt, nothing to be heard but the rushing adrenaline beating in her own ears between short bursts of breath. Steady footsteps from above made her lurch back further into the darkness, holding her breath once again. The voice was muffled as it approached, whistling a familiar tune that caused a wave of nausea to settle in Billie’s stomach.

Whoever was above her was not Jesus, and she feared whoever it was knew just what they were looking for.

#what comes after #chapter four #writing #fanfiction #twd #billie ford #sasha williams #maggie rhee #millie ford #paul 'jesus' rovia

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readingalcove · 3 years

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31 Day Horror House, Day 31

Day 31: what the “main character” (or even you!) becomes when their escape fails and they join the house.

Once you looked into the vulture-beast's eyes, you could not look away. In the darkened room, its eyes glowed with such bright, white light that your eyes stung, but you couldn't blink, nor turn your gaze away. Pain rose in your temples, then radiated back to your eats and the base of your neck, as though something had fastened around your head and squeezed. Your head felt like it was swelling and splitting, and all you could see anymore were the glowing dots in your vision and the purplish auras rippling out from the center each time your eyes twitched out of position.

Most of your audience was silent, but Shade's cackle echoed up and down the walls, surrounding you and making the ache in your ears even worse, all while the bird dug its talons into your shoulders to hold you still.

The pressure only increased, until, at the same time, you shouted and heard a sickening crack. Despite your acute awareness of the pain in your head, you could not tell what was happening to it. Your inability to reach up and feel for what had happened did not help.

Desperate for answers, you kept the raptor's gaze, no longer entirely due to force. Something about the brilliant glow relaxed you, and as the tension in your neck melted, the pain you felt ebbed away, not entirely, but enough to think and take deep, slow breaths to mitigate it even further.

Just as the headache became manageable, the bird hissed again, directly at your face, breaking the eye contact and letting you fall back toward the floor. You hadn't even realized you'd been leaning forward, but the smack you braced for as you fell never came; instead your head bounced slightly and, other than the uncomfortable angle of your neck, the remaining pain disappeared as though it had never been there at all.

The bird stepped back and off of you, then stood to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you saw it surveying the small crowd.

Someone walked up behind you; from the sound of their shoes it was the same person who had caught you and placed you on stage. They knelt and lifted you into a sitting position, but supporting yourself on your hands you turned to look them in the face.

It was Mister Rishel, and it was hard to feel surprised. Despite the darkness in the room, his face was lit by a soft yellow glow.

Whether because you had shown your willingness to retake your body or in punishment for your daring to look at him whilst he manipulated you, he dragged you up to your feet immediately, keeping a firm grip on your elbow, and similarly, you didn't know if that was to prevent escape or to help you balance.

"Excellent, just excellent," said Shade, stepping on stage and standing beside you, boxing you in between herself, Rishel, and the vulture, who crooked its long neck to watch you with one enormous, intelligent eye. You could see through her nostril to the windows above her.

The lights came up, and you saw that it was indeed the rest of the household before you, even Sipos and Jeremy Husk, the latter of which was gagged. Even Letitia, the gargantuan hen was there, though she was not looking at you, but alternating between preening and looking at the other beast. Even AF 4.0 sat in Cynthia's lap. Cynthia's face was strained, and Cornelia , by the look of her dress, was at the edge of her seat, but the children were grinning, as were Benny and Pebble. Sipos and Adelaide both scowled at you.

"And now," said Shade, interrupting your thoughts as though she didn't want to let you exposit your context clues, "the reveal!"

Rishel guided you to turn slightly, and Shade wheeled up a covered mirror.

"Voila!" she cried, ripping the cloth away to reveal your reflection.

The household cheered, but you ran to the mirror, and this time, no one tried to stop you, instead only watching as you prodded at your own face, prying open your own mouth to get a better look at the yellow light within, that which you had projected onto Rishel.

Your hands shook as you turned, looking around the room for a second mirror or some other proof that you were not really looking at yourself. Rishel obliged, holding up a hand mirror, and your pumpkin face stared back at you from it as well.

Looking down, you found your hands still humanoid, but mottled with orange and green. You also took in your clothes to find that you were still wearing the borrowed pajamas on stage, causing embarrassment to mingle with your existential crisis. You looked over the crowd again.

"Don't be shy," Shade said, and when you turned, she was only a flat shadow on the ground. "That took a lot out of me, so hold your head up."

She then turned to her audience.

"Sasha has created a monster, with no need for a virus, or a bite, or even death. All she needed was a human."

The vulture stretched up and spread her wings wide, pushing Rishel and even Shade away, despite her disembodiment.

Even your friends cheered this time.

"I'm leaving," you said, and Shade laughed.

"Where will you go?"

You didn't answer because you couldn't answer, but you continued away from the stage.

"You'll need this," she called and tossed you the key to the arched doorway.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mister Rishel found you slumped on the doorstep.

Since you had left the ballroom, you had paced just outside the door, regularly getting raspily accosted through the gate by Cujo. Your car sat before you, ready to go if you so chose, but for all the hours you had spent pacing, you couldn't bring yourself to drive back to town, not if it meant seeing yourself as a pumpkinhead in the mirror, nor somehow explaining it to your family, if they even let you in after seeing you had a jack o' lantern for a face.

"There's nowhere to go, is there?" you asked. "I can't go home like this."

He paused for a moment.

"We can go inside."

"I want to say goodbye to my friends. My before-yesterday-evening-friends."

A smile flickered on the goat man's face.

"Halloween will be here before you know it."

The end.

I’m not 100% on my ending, but if I want to write good maybe instead of complaining I should be writing things like this before 2:30AM on Halloween. It got where it needed to go though, and that’s what really matters. I went back and forth on more animorphs-like body horror, and on turning into something much worse, but I didn’t really want to change the whole feel of the thing (re body horror) or make the ending either too sad or too bright. I want the character to have a future other than either loving life as a mansion monster or wasting away trapped in some insignificant object. Something that allows for progress if I ever picked this up again, or even just if their life goes on.

And one final thank you to @bogleech for making this challenge and in generally being Halloween inspiring year round.

Challenge First | Previous | Next Read On AO3

#31 day horror house #spooky #halloween #bogleech #writing #mine #31dhhd31 #31 day horror house day 31

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prorevenge · 5 years

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After months of putting up with my roommate from hell, I got the revenge of lifetime and screwed her over out of a fuckton of money and got her to pay rent and life has never been sweeter! (This is a long one)

This is a long one but very much worth the ride, so buckle up. (also, English isn't my native lang, sorry if there are any mistakes)

This story takes place a couple of years back. During college, I lived with several roommates, all of them were nice and we got along well, except for this one bitch, let's call her Karen. if Satan and Hitler had a child and that child had a child with Stalin and Cruella de Vil, that would be Karen for you, she is a loud-mouthed stupid, egocentric bitch who has the face that scare the shit out of a toilet. She would never clean up after herself, she would always leave her plates and things at the spot where she last used them. I have lost counts of how many times, I caught her stealing my clothes without asking and if you so much as touch her clothes she loses her shit on you, or her drinking our lactose-intolerant roommates almond milk and any time we confronted her for drinking it, she would shrug and say "I only had a sip, stop being so stingy." She plays her music loud at night, invites stranger without giving any heads up, a time or two she didnt pay rent even though her parents are FILTHY RICH and she is wearing gucci and prada shit, Karen also fucking lies about everything, even things that are not worth lying about. like if she woke up 7, and you ask her, she'll lie through her fucking teeth and say she rose with the sun rise because she is a natural. (ps, this is something i actually heard her say to her parents while she was skypeing them....so cringy, who the fuck says that? but i digress)

Months we have fucking put up with her, of course we tried to get other roommates but unfortunately when we all moved in everything, all documents and contracts were done in her name so kicking her out would require a lot of effort and most of us were busy with school and work and life happens. So we ignore it as much as we can and try to move on.

We are now all seniors and in our final semesters, meaning graduation was coming, AND Karen is planning a backpack trip across Europe with her friends as a graduation gift to herself, this is important so remember this.

One of our roommates and my closest friend, Sasha, has had a crush on a guy that lives down the hall. Any time the two of them are together, Sasha and the Guy keep giving each other googly eyes and blushing faces; it was sooo cute. Sasha is a verbal autistic person and has never dated anyone because she has a hard time with socializing and understanding social ques and subtlety, which lets face it, that is the core of dating, especially flirting but with a lot of encouragement from me and the final roommate, Lola we got her to ask him out. He said yes. She was so happy, you guys, she flew back into the apartment and did an hour of happy dance with her arms flailing about and a shit eatin grin on her face; needless to say we were all so happy. Karen caught wind of this and it just so happens at that time she was having relationship problems, I guess her bf finally realized he's dating human garbage. Not one to be outshined, Karen behind all of our backs went to the guy's place and spun lies about Sasha, saying she is a serial cheater and even made a fake account for Sasha's so called bf. the guy never called Sasha, and eventually weeks passed by he told us why but by then Sasha felt like the damage was done and lost interest in him.

I. WAS. FUCKING. FURIOUS.

This, this level of dickery and bloody pettiness is the straw that finally broke the camel's back and I vowed I wouldn't fucking leave until I served my slice of justice. Here's another character that you must know about, Prof C. His wife two years ago was in a horrible car accident and as a result is in a wheelchair, this is especially problematic because she was a stay home mom that took care of their two special needs kids and they have a toddler at home. Home life is a mess for him, he is running ragged between working and single-handedly is taking care of his family, the uni took pity and also feared the workload would see one of their best and most beloved teachers leave the school struck a deal with him to help him out. In all of his classes there will be quizzes and midterms, this doesnt change, but assignments you submit and he corrects at the end of the year, this is important cuz our uni has zero tolerance on proffs that dont constantly update the students course works so that students have the chance to improve their grades.

Karen, the lazy and stupid bitch she is, is somehow skating through his assignments, even though they require a shit tone of research and writing. I accidentally learned that one of her older friends told her that she only needs submit the paper on its due date and to only write the first 3 pages and use a paraphrase tool for the rest of the paper so the plagiarism software wont detect it and would think its original material and when the end of the year comes, submit a hard copy but with the first pages being her actual work and the rest being completely plagiarized, professional work. Prof C won't know cuz the likelihood a man as busy as him thoroughly checking the work of 120+ students is pretty low. I grinned. A plan was beginning to formulate in my head. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus, she is going down! All semester long I let her do this for all of the 7 papers, one of them which is a term paper that has 20% on it alone, all the while I spied and gathered all of her pass codes, social media, her student ID, everything.

The end of the year came and I compiled all of her assignments, both the original one with the paraphrasing tools she used to circumvent plagiarism and the one she finally handed them in, and I even made photos were there are side-to-side comparison of the assignments. This is a good start but not enough. So, One day chillin at the living room I open a conversation about relationships, Karen is two timing her new boyfriend and is sleeping with some other Person. so, I ask her questions like "don't you feel guilty for cheating?" and "You do realize this is wrong?" and I even paraphrase my words in a way that is vague but also clear, for example I would say "It's not fair, so many people work so hard everyday to be successful and you are here cheating and lying your way to success." Karen, narcissistic as fuck, would respond with snippets of I dont care and how she isnt cheating, she is only having fun and that everyone does it so why not her too. This is too good to be true, even her answers are vague, its like god put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eyes and said, "burry this bitch". and Id be damned if I didnt. As you probably have guessed it by now, I was recording EVERYTHING. The recording plus the photos, and her assignments were more than enough evidence, I sent an anonymous email to the Professor, and i tell the girls so that they can prep for the shit storm thats coming. Three weeks later, results are out. she failed and LOST HER SHIT. She was screamin, crying, wailing, what a sight to see! you best believe, the girls and I were laughing. She tried to talk to the prof, but he was not having it. she cried and begged for a second chance but he said a hard no. So now she has two options: she goes ahead and doesn't graduate with us, and takes on a whole 'nother semester for one measly course or take summer course and cancel her trip to Europe, which mind you she spent a fuckton on, something like 13, 000$ and I know it could have been much cheaper but Princess Karen only wanted the best so yh. The next couple of weeks she spent sleepless nights because she was calling and cancelling all the reservations she made, tryin to get her money back BUT (again, GOD really was out for blood that day) because the cancellation was so close to some her trip most places refused to refund, or some charged her cancellation fees. She only managed to scrap 5.5 K back together, lossin 7.5 K. OUCH!

Its not over, having damning evidence I, with earned gusto, told her she was going to pay all of the bills till we move out, which was in two months, payback for all the times she was late on payment or defaulted and she would from now do her part of the house chores or else Im gonna send it all to the admin and faculty dean and she will fo sho be kicked out and all those uni years will have been for nothing. She hated it, she fucking threw tantrums and cussed me out but my god if she didnt do whats told. she cleaned her stuff, apologized to Sasha for what she did, I forced her to come clean to her BF (dont know the guy but the few times i met him he was super sweet to us and i felt bad for the guy), I watched her actually do the dishes for the first time in like years. IT was fucking amazing and I don't regret it one bit. In fact, anytime I feel sad now as an adult, i kick back my feet and reminiscine and a slow shit eatin grin draws itself upon my face.

tl;dr roommate was super mean, i found out she was cheating on her assignments and so i snitched on her and as a result she had to stay the summer and retake the class again or else she wouldn't graduate.

(source) story by (/u/let-the-write-one-in)

#prorevenge #by /u/let-the-write-one-in #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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