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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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HTS One-Shot: It Means Everything

Summary: Actions speak louder than words, and fighting reveals the true intentions behind them.

That fucking hurt.

She turned her head briefly to the side and spat out a fat glob of blood, crimson on glistening snow before she turned back and locked eyes with the much taller, currently threatening man who’d just decked her, albeit, not out of the blue and certainly not undeserved.

Canine leaned back, weight on her right foot and combat booted toes shifting inward, left elbow bending in and arm moving higher to block her jaw as her right fist curled tightly at her side, threatening an underhand punch; she was making her intentions clear. Her center of balance lowered and steel-toed boots crunched the snow she trod upon, the grinding noise heard cristal clear as dawn sluggishly turned into daybreak overhead. It was too fucking early for a spat, especially when Zombie shouldn’t even be offended. But apparently, he was offended enough to slug her. And she was only slightly proud; the bastard’s so slow to anger, so slow to fight, but this of all things could’ve been handled with words. Usually, she’s the one to make things physical.

She’d just made a careless comment, or rather, she didn’t give a fuck about how her words would be received. They were walking down the street of one of the shoddier neighborhoods in the area, and Canine admired how much of an improvement the scenery was to the usual, with the minimal littering of trash and some non-spray-painted signs here or there. And she didn’t have to focus on scanning the ground for gum; it’s rare she gets the opportunity to steal a good pair of shoes and she’d hate to have her current ones ruined.

That just so happened to remind her of a… call it what you will: a grudge, a disagreement, a trivial matter blown out of proportion to its necessary weight. But hell if it didn’t still piss her off. Though, she probably shouldn’t have brought it up. Not that she’s gonna apologize.

Zombie’d reached out before she could move away, yanking on her wrist and sending her careening to the side and backward. Just as she’d caught her footing his fist slammed into her, centered in her right cheek. Stunned for a solid moment, she didn’t react other than manipulating the effect of the pain out of her mind, an unconscious habit. Then she’d huffed, pissed beyond belief, and, mouth still gaping, turned shocked and accusatory, although not yet enraged, eyes up to Zombie’s face. To his credit, he didn’t shrink away and didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. Sticking to it, hah?

His eyes were dark, swirling with rage but tamed with control, deep blue pools that would drown anyone weaker. Still, she felt smothered under the weight of his stare, the determined set of his jaw and the purpose behind his stance. After appraising him, she raised her left eyebrow, bemusedly.

A large welt was forming across her cheekbones; her eyes seemed to gain life as if it wasn’t there before, not so much bright as glinted steel, hardening even as her downturned lips quirked upwards slowly, spreading out the muscles in her face almost unnaturally as if it was the closest to a smile she could manage and the only emotion her face could display while keeping the truth under concealment.

“So… I take it that upset you?” Quiet menace laced her voice, a dangerous intonation making itself clear despite the composure of her face. She braced herself for a fight, collected in her stance if not in her frame of mind.

But then Zombie let his arms drop. Confused, she merely narrowed her eyes in challenge. Then,

“You still think you could beat me to death without powers? Without some way to level the ground?”

Before she could reply, he continued on, making her grit her bared teeth.

“You always want to be so strong, always the one in charge, always in control, and you’ll never give it a rest for one fucking minute!” His voice roared at the end, abandoning its eternal, lasting reserve in the span of a single heartbeat.

Tilting her head slightly and eyes narrowing, her jet black hair swung in its high ponytail and bangs gently fluttered from the wind as her expression dropped to a deadpan. “Why don’t you just give ‘protecting me’ a rest for a change? Still don’t think I can handle myself in a fight? Yet you won’t give me a chance to prove it to you; I wonder why…” At the last phrase, her voice honeyed patronizingly. Zombie grit his teeth.

“Fine.”

Her eyebrow once again raised, though this time disbelievingly and harried. “Really. ‘Fine,’ what then? Go on, I’ll bite.” She spat the last word threateningly.

He was unphased. “I’ll tell you what, ‘cause you’re really pissing me the hell off.” His voice was sharp on the word “pissing,” the “p” puffing out his lips and forming the word into more of a hiss. “Give me a migraine, a purposeful one, but just enough I can’t manipulate you into a hallucination. Then, I’ll hold the rest of my abilities back, and you with yours. I’ll make sure to stop before you croak.”

She just smirked. “We’ll see.”

With that, Zombie’s face crumpled in intense pain. It had to be, or else he could use his powers. And it was mainly the honor system that she didn’t continue using her own, to stop or incur either one of them pain. But if there’s one thing she hates more than anything else, it’s a broken promise. With that in mind, she set out to beat his ass instead.

Left hook. Dodge. Twist. Kick. Swerve. Fuck, that hurt. Duck. Shove. Kick. Knees are fair game. Stab with the knuckles. Her side; damnit that hurt! He might’ve ruptured her fucking spleen. Dodge. Kick. Right hook. She quickly gained the upper hand. Would be easier if… well, she didn’t exactly want to shin him there when she so obviously could right now-- moment passed. She spared him, but he would’ve dodged in time anyway. Right hook. Left. Right. Roundhouse. He’s on the ground. Stomp on his stomach; he dodged in time and she clipped his side. She’d planned that and he knew, but was acting on self-preservation instincts. She then rounded and kicked him, hard, in about the same spot he’d slammed into her side so hard she nearly fractured her wrist on the wall. She didn’t even register the full extent of the pain ‘till then. Acting on impulse, acting fast. She’d acted fast enough. He groaned in pain, curling in on himself pathetically. The fight wasn’t pathetic. Her wrist was most definitely fractured. He’d bruised her side almost as bad as she bruised his. Her jaw still ached from earlier. She’d forgotten about his brass knuckles, too. She’d bit the inside of her cheek in the fight; it was even more swollen and her mouth was filled with blood, the iron taste disgusting her as much as it made her feel alive.

She turned her head and spit crudely onto the ground before coming down from the adrenaline of the fight and stepped back. The alley framed him nicely, the boarded-up windows and the light barely filtering in making for a nice touch, accenting the black and blue hue to his alabaster skin. His blue-black hair was matted with blood; she must’ve cut his forehead with her nails, thin trails of red drying on his scalp. Black eye, matching her own that she must’ve acquired at some point in the fight. She remembered every detail of it, but only in terms of her own movements, matching and sparing with his in a dance one of them would regret attending. Seems he has two left feet.

She’d smiled, looking down on him maniacally, her shit-eating grin only widening as she graciously took away his headache. “Looks like I can fend for myself after all. And don’t pull any, “I was holding back,” bullshit, ‘cause I know when you’re lying, remember?”

He just groaned in pain. She frowned. He didn’t hear most of what she’d said through the blood pounding in his ears. Upon realizing that, she brought down his pain levels enough for him to focus. “I won. Now back off.” Her voice was harsher than the granite cushioning Zombie’s bruised, in some places broken form. But she didn’t hurt him enough to cause serious injury; she wouldn’t want that. She just… she wouldn’t, is all. Not feeling like it in particular; good for him in this case.

Zombie’s eyes rolled up along with his head until he was staring into the first rays of dawn. With a pained groan that turned into a chuckle before dissolving into coughing so hard his bruised ribs threatened to snap, he turned to meet her eyes.

"Strong kick. I like people that can fend for themselves.” With that, his head thudded back and he did his best to restrain another groan.

And Canine smiled. The manic look in her eyes dimmed until a relaxed, proud smile shone through, and with that, she manipulated away both of their pains and helped ease him slowly to his feet; they were still injured, despite not feeling the pain. Both were worse for wear, and more so than usual, as would be expected between a more formal brawl between their kind. Usually, their fights stay verbal, and sparring matches are a different matter altogether.

Suddenly overcome with guilt, the emotion she hates experiencing more than any other, her breath caught in her throat and she hid her face with a growl, eyes trained on the ground beneath her feet. She felt more than anything else when he lifted his hand and brushed her sweat-and-blood dampened bangs away from her face before dropping it limply, the both of them clutching their sides, nearly doubled over.

“Hey.” His voice was clear cut and only sharpened further. “… I’ve never doubted your strength, never doubted that you can hold your own.”

She snarled at the blatant assertion. “Don’t you fucking lie to me--”

“I don’t want to lose you. I know how close you always are to losing yourself, so… I wanted you to depend on me instead of yourself, all this time. Is that really too selfish?”

He attempted to be mocking in the last phrase, but thankfully it came out more honest than he’d intended and the statement’s neediness shone through, reflected in the heat rising to his cheeks as his left hand once again lifted but this time to scratch his jaw idly, right arm wrapped around his body while her left pressed directly against her own.

Canine glanced down at the ground, gaze sticking on a bloodied pebble. “... Yeah, I do depend on you, don’t I?” Her words were hushed but open, sounding from deep in the back of her throat as it clogged with rising revelations.

Zombie looked deeply, seriously, into her eyes, evaluating her openly and hoping she wouldn’t slip into herself again. “... It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He hedged, despite his thick, reserved tone begging it to mean everything.

Canine’s head quickly jerked up, locking eyes with him. “I think it does.” They didn’t have to speak the words to know they’d already been said.

Zombie limped forward, gently easing her into the warm circle of his arms, her small frame pressed up against his, head resting square in his firm, lean chest. Her nose fell about a foot below his shoulders and she burrowed into him, not knowing how to express her current cocktail of emotions. He just leaned down slightly, encasing her with his body, hands running idly up and down the length of her back and being careful to avoid any tender areas from their brawl. Feeling overcome with emotion, they merely held onto each other and focused on breathing and allowing themselves to just feel, to just be, if only for a short while.

Upon breathing in deeply, Canine held onto Zombie’s scent as long as she could before breathing it out, deeply enjoying the hug, both their guards down for once and at the same time at that, just existing in the quiet moment that proceeded. She buried her nose into his chest, a slight sheen of sweat making his shirt stick against his skin, and found she very much liked the current turn of events.

Zombie, for his part, was enjoying the feel of her smooth skin and sinewy muscles, stroking along her spine and humming appreciatively when she arched into him with a pleased sigh. His head bowed and he hunched until his lips were brushing the top of her head, and he smiled softly. He’d do this right. This relationship, whatever exactly it was or entailed, he’d make her happy in the course of it. She deserves to feel loved, to feel wanted, to be happy, and he’s overjoyed he now has new ways to express just how much he loves her and how hard he’ll continue to fight to make sure she does.

A quiet murmur, not obtrusive enough to break the moment of the reverie. “Want to head back to our room?”

She smiled. While they’d often room together, it was never “our room,” only “the room.” Nuzzling into his chest with a soft sigh, her shoulders dropped and she only then realized they didn’t have to be raised at all.

Softly, not disturbing the moment or disrupting the flow, their blood no longer struggling through capillaries constricted with regret and hearts finally pumping in sync, she replied, “Yeah, let’s go.”

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #canine/zombie #original work #original universe #tw: violence #tw: blood mention #nothing rly graphic cause i cant do angst #this is a biiiiiiiiiiig if not one of the biggest turning points!!!#in their relationship that is

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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The Message Was Received

Summary: Everyone has their fears. Some plague them as they sleep, and some are too afraid to even let themselves sleep.

Warnings: None! At! All!

“NO! Don’t leave me tonight!” The urgent call sounding behind her froze her cold in her tracks. She’d been visiting Zombie again, though this time she’d insisted on staying much later than usual, and he seemed more than fine with it; they’d known each other for a year before ever seeing where the other lived, cautious as their kind is, but they’ve recently begun spending an hour or two in each other’s company. But she’d never come over this late before or stayed this long, and he’d never asked her to stay. Still, it was the sheer note of panic in his voice that caught her off guard.

Canine whirled around defensively, her eyes as large as saucers and eyebrows drew to a point. “What?!” And she’d just started to trust him too.

Zombie was sitting on top of a metal milk crate he’d salvaged that served as the unoccupied (on official documents) one-room apartment’s only chair; even his bed was a mere heap of blankets piled in one corner. His long legs were folded comically as if they couldn’t decide how much space to take up in any one direction. But her eyes were locked onto his, and she noted the gleam of paranoia, no, the note of fear inside of them, and realized he wasn’t going to become aggressive; he was going to have a panic attack.

A whisper. “Please…” His pink lips were quivering, eyes appearing withdrawn and open, shoulders hunched in and down; she’d never seen him look this way, always being strong for everyone else, and she knew it would be a frigid day in hell when he’d fake something like this.

Canine dropped to her knees to be on eye level with him; despite how low to the ground the carton is, he’s, objectively, too tall. She swallowed thickly and reached out, gently putting her hands on his trim shoulders. She knows a gesture like that would terrify her more but would only serve to put him at ease.

“Zombie? What’s wrong? It’s okay--”

“NO! It-- It’s not okay! Please, oh god-- please don’t leave me--”

She could sense him pulling away from rationality. “ZOMBIE!”

At her command, his mouth clammed shut, and the poor guy looked like a deer in headlights. She regarded him warily, slowly kneading his shoulders to ground him. He… he definitely wasn’t faking this, this, whatever it was. He’s honestly, objectively, terrified. Of her leaving? He’d never had this reaction before… Unless…

No. That can’t be it; he’s out all the time in the dark, he spends his nights here alone, there’s no way he’s afraid of the--

Several memories suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. Zombie claims he does his best to sleep at night because he’s always saying how he “wants to make the most of the day.” Despite that, he’s always meandering the alleys at night, or, when she’s left his apartment before, even up ‘till ten p.m. he’s had the lights on…

“Zombie?” She asked cautiously. “Are you… by any chance, are you afraid of the dark?” Her expression was curious but open for once, a rarity in and of itself.

He made no move to answer her, only a slight tremble traveling through his body. She was about to reassure him it’s okay when he suddenly, only slightly, shook his head, choppy blue-black hair quivering and eyes shaking even more.

“... Then what? … You can tell me. I won’t make fun of you, I swear.”

He broke eye contact as he looked to the side and licked his lips nervously, jaw quivering, before he clenched it shut and swallowed, lifting his chin and then letting out a breath that made his abdominal muscles clench.

“I--” He cleared his throat. “I-- have a phobia, of, of…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, keeping most of the air he took in contained in his stomach.

“... Yes?”

Zombie’s head jerked up, looking into her bottle eyes briefly before his own blues turned away guiltily. His next words were muffled and sounded choked in embarrassment.

Canine was getting fed up. She can’t support him if he doesn’t open up. “Zombie, spit it out.” She ground out, albeit as gently as she could manage.

Still looking to the side, he nodded minutely, before, “Sleeping.”

Her head fell towards her left shoulder and she leaned forward, peering at him to try and catch his eyes. “... You have a phobia of falling asleep?”

His head warbled back and forth, up and down in troubled consideration. “More like being asleep,” he muttered, pursing his lips into a thin line as he prepared for the ridicule. It was silent. Then, muttered, “Somniphobia.”

Canine immediately nodded. “I believe you,” she murmured. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Her fingers kneaded his shoulders once before she dropped her hands, leaning back on her heels, sock-clad feet sliding slightly on the yellowed linoleum and jean-clad knees starting to ache before she smiled gently.

The moment was tender, and the haze would more than likely be broken soon. “Zombie… you help me, so much, and I’m going to be there for you just as often, alright?” The confession was quiet, honest, and his lips attempted a smile without informing his muscles that meant they had to twitch. But Canine understood the message was received.

She stood and noted the way his eyes darted to her figure, panicked, still expecting her to leave him to his fears alone. But he knew she would never do such a thing, and she moved quietly and slowly, easing around the small space to help keep him calm. The last thing either of them needs is for him to have an anxiety attack right now.

She made sure all the windows were either locked or boarded up respectively, then turned to him. “I’m just checking the door, making sure it’s locked.” Then, harsher. “Go set up the bed.”

Zombie watched her with wide eyes before gulping, nodding fervently, and arranging the heaped mass of blankets resting on the hard ground into a quasi-comfortable set up large enough for them both to have room and still stay warm. After checking all the bolts on the handle and screwed into the door and securing a chair underneath the handle for good measure, she joined him, gingerly kneeling into the mess of blankets. She could feel his tense and flinch. She wasn’t exactly the epitome of comfortable herself, either.

Reminding herself he’d do the same for her, she did her best to relax. While they’ve occasionally shared campsites, they sleep on either side of a makeshift firepit, keeping a good distance between them for their own safety and that of each other if anyone attacks them.

Still, sharing the same bed was a very new experience.

Canine could feel the fine tremors wracking Zombie’s body and sighed irritatedly before sidling up close to his side and resting her head cautiously on his chest. Normally she fancies she’d attempt to stay up with him as long as possible, but it’s already past two a.m. and she wakes up with the sun, so she was looking to have him asleep quickly. Despite feeling comfortable around him to a large extent, enough to keep him company while he sleeps to keep him calm, she knows it would be safer for him to fall asleep fast.

Zombie tensed and flinched when she rested against him, remaining rooted to the spot where he lay, facing the ceiling and doing his best to not close his eyes for too long. With a long-suffered sigh, Canine pulled a blanket over them both and focused on her breathing, deep and slow, in her attempts to get him to relax. It worked, but in the course, she fell asleep first. At least he managed to get a few good hours, which is more than usual. He down as many damn expressos, as he can steal to avoid sleeping, using alcohol to lull him into a restful state when he can’t take being awake any longer.

But for the first time since he’d run away from home, he felt safe. He was able to let go of his fear of what may happen in his sleep, if not just for the night. And in the morning, though nothing seemed to have changed between them, an understanding had been reached.

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #canine/zombie #original work #original universe #this one takes place just after No More Words Were Said #and before One-Hundred Reasons to Give up and One to Keep on Going

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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HTS One-Shot: “... I had a key, dumbass.”

Summary: “You’re mine, tonight.” He brushed his cold, chapped lips gently across her jaw, voice turned husky and deep. “And I’m the one in charge.”

Warnings: Ab-so-lu-te-ly none! This one does get a little bit steamy towards the end, but nothing happens. I’m gonna be honest; the summary is the very last set of lines in the story. But I am planning a direct sequel to this one-shot that will deliver! (;

Snow drifted down from the torrential skies only to settle miserably in wet clumps on the uneven ground, the frigid air not quite cold enough for it to stick as it went underfoot. Canine and Zombie trudged, paced yet slow, up the side of Thieve’s Mountain. There are no actual thieves there, except when someone wanders in and one of their kind feels the need to remind them the mountain is “dangerous” so they play the part. But they, of course, are safe. Hah, as safe as it gets for them, that is.

Zombie frowned miserably, eyebrows furrowing and lips curling down as his expression not so much crumpled as melted in situational defeat. He shuddered violently before biting his cheeks and casting Canine an accusatory glare. They shouldn’t be in this fucking mess in the first place, and even though they’re both clad in similar, non-weather appropriate gear, she at least has nociception manipulation and doesn’t have to feel the pain of fucking frostbitten toes! Even acknowledging them made them ache. He grimaced and growled low in his throat, turning back to face forward and hunching inward, leaking nose pressing into the collar at the shoulder of his stolen, plain black hoodie. Another shiver wracked his body as his skin crawled in indignation of what he was putting himself through.

Canine had trudged a half-step behind, merely glancing at his disapproving glare, unimpressed, before stalking ahead after he turned back around. “I know what I’m talking about, so just shut up.”

He didn’t bother asserting that he hadn’t been speaking. He’s the one with a semblance of telepathy, but she’s unequivocally more observant than he’ll ever hope to be. Grunting, he pressed onward; she more than likely knew exactly what she was talking about, but that didn’t mean the weather had to make things easier on them. The world itself can’t wait for them to sink to hell. Air made a snorting noise in his noise as he held back a chuckle. At least it would be warmer in Hell.

Canine saw the glint of light up ahead while Zombie only stared at his recently acquired snowboots, almost pitifully lifting each foot before lethargically stomping it down. Big baby. She may have been “ruffing it,” so to speak, long before he has, but he’s putting on a purposeful show. She would snap at him to get his ass moving if not for the fact that he’s so fucking tall he was nearly outpacing her with the sheer length of his stride.

“It’s just up ahead,” she snapped. “Quit whining and get moving or I’m locking you out.” Canine drawled the words with a bored lilt, pleased that Zombie began to get himself in gear. She couldn’t help but notice the redness in his face, concentrated about his nose, and the way he had his thinly gloved hands shoved up under his armpits for warmth. She actually did feel bad for him…

Formulating a plan, she smirked, cracked-from-the-cold lips twitching upwards into an open-mouthed grin as she followed on his heels, walking up to the old cabin door. Before she could stop him, Zombie reared back and side-kicked the door clean off its rusted hinges. Canine stood there, clad in two cheap sweaters and discarded sweats rolled five times about her waist, her winter-white beanie and gloves contrasting with the jet black dye of her hair, now reaching her hips, and tilted her head with an audible, resigned sigh, acidic green eyes narrowed in resignation.

“... I had a key, dumbass.”

He heard her, but he didn’t respond, stomping off his boots and nearly dislocating his ankles as he furiously yanked them off his feet and curled his toes, stomping them into the ground as tears pricked at his eyes from the pain of flexing them.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He chanted in a mantra as he alternated stomping each foot against the hardwood of the entryway, attempting to regain feeling.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think the carpet would be more comfortable to do that on?” She asked rhetorically, pushing past him and shaking her head minutely. Leaving him in the entryway, she stalked into the cabin as if she owned the place, which, for the night at least, she actually did. Their kind rotates temporary ownership of useful shelters. As it was, the cabin is small, if not self-sufficient. Composting toilet, warm sheets on the bed, hell, it even has a propane tank so they can cook some food, if there’s any there, that is.

As she mused what she’d make Zombie cook, she sensed him walk up behind her and felt as he wrapped his arms around her middle, and she hummed appreciatively. They still didn’t know the nature of their relationship; it was currently stuck on “frenemies with benefits,” although sometimes they were too spiteful to be in each other’s vicinity and sometimes they went at it like rabbits. Their relationship turns tides at will, and luckily for Zombie, it seems they’re both in a pleasant mood.

She was about to turn around and grace him with a tender moment when the moron stuck his freezing cold nose into her neck, making her jump a foot in the air and yipe. She ripped herself away from him and went to deck him in the face. He was lucky enough to catch her fist and quick enough to wrench her arm around her back, giving her time to huff and relax.

“Sorry, did that sting?” That bastard. The lilt in his voice was so cocky and self-assured; he’d definitely ruined the fucking mood.

She silently seethed, debating whether to give him enough of a migraine he’d shut the hell up for once. Before she could reach a decision, he continued.

“Punishment for making me walk through the snow and for not absolving the pain of frostbite for anyone but yourself.”

Oh… Yeah, that’s true.

Lips curling up ruefully, Canine decided to play coy.

Twisting her head and batting her eyes up at him with a coquettish smile, she singsonged, “Is that the only punishment I’m going to get?” Before looking up through her lashes, pleased that his blues were deepened with lust already. “... Master?”

He growled appreciatively, bending down to kiss her urgently, nipping her lips until she opened up to him and relaxed entirely in his arms. Only then did he release her arm and pull her against him, Canine clawing at his chest and attempting to wrench off his hoodie without breaking contact. Finally, Zombie pulled away with a barked laugh and pulled it over his head along with his shirt before divesting her of her own and pulling her up against his lithe but firm chest. She hummed appreciatively before shivering, partially from cold and not pure lust. It was much warmer in the cabin; less so with the door broken down.

He guided her over to the pull-out couch-bed in the corner of the cabin and backed her up, groping her every curve and angle until her legs hit the side and she fell backward, Zombie following and caging her in. He felt her tense, felt the moment she considered pushing him away, and felt when she pushed the instinct aside. Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he leaned down, mouthing, licking, and kissing along her neck as she hummed appreciatively, tangling her icy fingers in his blue-black hair. Climbing fully onto the bed, he grinned down at her predatorily, fingers stroking her sides gently, yet possessively, digging into her hips as he leaned in close, whispering his next words in her ear.

“You’re mine, tonight.” He brushed his cold, chapped lips gently across her jaw, voice turned husky and deep. “And I’m the one in charge.”

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #original work #original universe #canine/zombie #this one takes place just after One-Hundred Reasons to Give up and One to Keep on Going #but it goes before The Past Dies Where the Future Lies #this one will get a direct sequel!

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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HTS One-Shot: One-Hundred Reasons to Give Up and One to Keep on Going

Summary: There’s a reason for everything. More often than not, that reason is “just because.”

Warnings: UST. Pretty much, just, UST. They get so close to resolving it, too! But~ they’re very stupid. And that makes Canine a bit depressed, but she just withdraws into herself. Nothing really bad, I promise!

“... Just because.” He held back his smirk for as long as he could, which admittedly wasn’t long at all, the span of three heartbeats passing as his heart clenched before his lopsided grin broke through and he stared at her, way too happy with himself for his own good.

Canine merely glared him down, bottle eyes narrowed to bright, venomous slits as her nostrils flared; Zombie just stood there, smirking. He didn’t dare laugh, but his amusement was plain on his face in the crinkle and darkening of his pacific eyes, shining enough they could cast shadows. The wind suddenly howled its fury at their existence, throttling the trees around them and pricking tears to their eyes, but neither dared back down. Finally, Zombie blinked as he turned his head to the side and away from the wind. First, as always, and it only pissed Canine off more because she knew he looked away because he was humoring her and nothing more.

She then spoke, her voice strained, not with anger, but urgency, a whisper in the darkness of the woods that was carried away so fast Zombie had to whirl his head around to read her lips lest he missed it entirely. “What do you mean, ‘just because.’”

His smirk dropped. He licked his bottom lip, running it gently under his teeth before letting out a heavy, thin sigh, blinking gently at the ground before looking up to her eyes. A quirk of the right side of his mouth failed to inform his eyes they should brighten to match, and the expression looked pathetically empty, emotion devoid on his face because it couldn’t escape from inside. He shrugged.

“I don’t know. But I do care about you in some small way. I just do, just because, and I can’t change that, so I won’t even try. I won’t even bother with anything when it comes to either of us. Happy?”

Canine’s shoulders drooped as her mouth opened, a puff of breath turning to mist in the air, sagging into herself and, for once, seems to not have the energy for a fight. Her eyes dimmed and eyebrows sank, and she looked far away from herself. He knew that expression, that stance, knew it because he knew her so well.

Zombie’s spine snapped straight as his shoulders squared. He towered over her, by nearly a foot and a half, yet he didn’t look threatening. Not that she would’ve felt threatened anyway. His entire body tensed and his brow furrowed. “Canine… I didn’t mean…” He cleared his throat silently, resolve hardened. “Tell me what’s going through your mind.” His voice was firm, yet gentle, scotch on rocks, his deep tenor reaching through her momentary haze.

“Fuck off.” Inaudible; her mouth didn’t even fully shape a word.

He knew not to reach out to her, not to hold her close and apologize, not to make a single move toward her, as much as he wanted to, because while that eases his anxiety it heightens hers.

With his next words, his voice was thick and strained, the sludged sound struggling to work up through his throat. “Canine. Every word going through your head. Say them out loud.” He didn’t move a muscle; she likely wouldn’t harm him if he did, even if he tried to harm her, not that he’d ever want to. Even still, he stayed rooted to the spot as the wind resurged, angrily ripping at his skin.

Her voice was loud enough for him to hear over the wind, but just barely, the sound uncharacteristically monotone. “I’m… I--I don’t know. I just--don’t… I don’t know.” The rushed and grating sound of her speech was painful to hear.

He stood stock straight, still as the sky slowly began to brighten, daylight still several hours away. His mouth set into a hard line as his eyes solidified. “Canine, I do care about you. In a… not so small way. And not ‘just because.’ I just don’t know why either, okay?”

He waited for a response, hoping he’d get one. Several heartbeats thudded in his throat before she nodded her head minutely.

Zombie took a half-step towards her over clumps of dirt and weeds, trampling flowers beneath his converse. Then another step. Again. Four steps and he was close enough to reach out and pull her gently, cautiously, by the shoulder into his chest, the toes of her boots digging into the soil. Canine just rested against him, not making a move in any direction. He should’ve seen the signs. He usually does. He’s just been too caught up in thinking of her rather than being there for her.

He tangled his fingers softly in her jet-black hair, noting the pale brown roots in the fading moonlight, and wrapped his right arm around her waist, gently resting his palm flat on the small of her back. His heart clenched excruciatingly; he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and protect her from the parts of herself she’s too afraid of to fight, wanted her to belong to him and he to her, and knowing that despite the lack of acknowledgment they both felt the same choked him and stole the air from his lungs so he couldn’t confess in words.

A shiver wracked her body violently, and he knew it wasn’t just from the cold, her emotions struggling to escape as tears but clogging in her veins. He did his best to shield her from the next bout of the wind’s tantrum at their intrusion to the clearing before deciding he needed to make the next set of decisions for them.

He hunched over and buried his nose in her hair, hoping against hope that this wasn’t the wrong time because it sure as hell wasn’t the best.

“Canine-- come with me.”

He couldn’t say it. How could he? Just blurt out his confession when she was so obviously distraught. He couldn’t do that to her.

She suddenly pulled away stiffly, looking up into his eyes and he watched as her own regained their will to fight. Still resting in the circle of his arms, the corners of her lips twitched up into a quick smile, nearly gone before it arrived. “Thanks…”

He nodded, taking her wrist instead and continuing on their path to their campsite. They travel together because while there isn’t safety in numbers in their kind’s case there’s less of a chance of giving up. The last thing he wants is for her, for either of them, to give up.

Zombie felt as Canine rotated her wrist, tugging slightly before clenching his hand tightly in her own. Facing forward, their eyes stayed locked onto their path and neither noticed the genuine upturn to the other’s lips. They may have hundreds of reasons to give up, but they each give each other a reason to keep going.

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #canine/zombie #original work #original universe #this one takes place before The Past Dies Where the Future Lies #like just before (currently)#i keep adding all over the timeline lol

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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Info about my original universe (not yet posted about)

I call this universe: They Hide to Survive While Fighting the Urge to Give Up, or Hide to Survive for short, or HTS for even shorter.

So my original universe is high key fucked up. I created it as a coping mechanism for my depression and combined it with superpowers cause why not, sounds fun, then added a hint of “the entire world is literally against you” then followed it up with a dash of “but you’re not alone and you’ll find people that really care about you.” It’s got a lot of characters dealing with fucked up circumstances and depression wearing anxiety like a hat, but it’s about found families and not giving up. And! I’m doing something I’ve never seen before with a psychological horror/fucked up dial turned too far up for comfort universe: it has a legit happy ending. Or, more like “happy” ending, ‘cause even though their circumstances improve and they achieve the life they’ve always wanted and never believed they could get, fact is fact that they’re still depressed and that no life is perfect and there’s no perfect way to live the life you have. I swear the characters end up okay! And I’m not a fan of angst so I’ll put them through serious shit but it won’t be sob-worthy.

I won’t put up a synopsis, but I will post (individually) the works I put up for it on my ao3! They’re loosely plot-line connected one-shots that just serve the purpose of me getting a handle on their personalities and the timeline, but the actual story I’m writing for it is still so heavily under progress that I’ll more than likely need to keep writing some one-shots for now. Stay tuned! (:

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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HTS One-Shot: The Past Dies Where the Future Lies

Summary: Camaraderie breeds trust and trust can't keep secrets. Luckily, there's nothing they want to hide from each other.

Warnings: None! (Except for mentions of a bad childhood) This is nowhere near the end of the story, it just serves to show that while they are always on guard, they still try to live their lives.

Also! This one-shot contains Canine/Zombie *fucking finally* in a relationship!

The music blared out into the alley as the door opened and closed, too loud for the not-quite morning time of night, and the lyrics were darker than the inky sky hovering above the bar, the sign in the window blinking neon lights, reading, "McDonnelleys." A sign posted on the door advertised the weekly Saturday "Blast Night." Or, as Zombie liked to think of it, the one day when they played lively music instead of the classics, when others crowded close to each other to dance and when he and Canine could go together and forget about being who they are. Where they could just exist amongst the sea of moving bodies and not have to constantly watch their backs. Saturday's are the one day when Canine's excited to visit McDonnelley's and even suggests the idea instead of halfway reluctantly going with him. He knows she doesn't like the atmosphere; she likes the sense of anonymity. He can't say he doesn't agree.

Inside the bar, the lights and noise filled the room with a sense of energy that had him on edge. He knew Canine would be more so; she'd never liked crowds or noise. She said it reminded her too much of things she'd rather forget. Zombie wondered just how many memories she has that she'd rather not be reminded of. He has far too many himself. But despite all of that, they showed up on Saturday's often, feeling slightly more peaceful surrounded by others of their kind. This bar is just for their kind. And despite how dangerous it is for them to gather in large groups, despite how much of an easy target they become, the bar stays in business. Maybe because there's nowhere else for them to go.

He watched Canine as she danced to a song by the punk band whose logo was printed across his shirt. Sometimes he just has to wonder about her. He wonders at her strength, both of spirit and mind. He wishes and longs for a world where their kind doesn't have to hide, doesn't have to be feared, can instead be accepted, where they can be happy together. But Canine doesn't bother longing for inconceivable wishes. She longs for a safe place to hide for at least a few years, and he smiled at the memory of her telling him, and he quotes, "You'd be hiding with me, you know. If you don't think you would, then get the fuck outta my sight."

It was only the second time either of them admitted their feelings for each other, and neither time did they say so in as many words. He remembers the first time. She'd kicked his ass in a practice fight, as she'd always done. She usually gave him a migraine too big for him to use his power and then ran unsourced pains through his entire being, but this time she took away his ability to use his power and stopped utilizing hers. He smirked as he thought back to that day, two years prior. They'd just had an argument, and she swore up and down she could beat him to death if she wanted, powers aside. She'd been right. From where he lay, bloodied on the concrete floor, the buildings surrounding the lonely alley caging him in, bruises forming along his sides, he'd done nothing more than spat out the blood welling inside his cheek from his busted gum and croaked, "Strong kick. I like people that can fend for themselves," before relaxing back onto the bed of asphalt and groaning in pain. And she'd done nothing but smiled, standing over him proudly, looking nowhere near as worse for wear.

He still remembers how her proud smile had softened until the almost manic light in her eyes dimmed into pity, and damn if he wasn't glad to see it and humble enough to be grateful. Without any time seeming to pass Zombie had suddenly been aware of the pain being gone. It was as if he'd imagined it all along. She'd held out her hand to help him up and her lips had curved up gracefully, not a happy smile but a meaningful one. He'd understood what she was trying to convey, and nodded before reaching up and taking her hand, easing slowly to a standing position. Despite the lack of pain, he'd known he was badly injured. He'd also known that while she'd shown no mercy, she hadn't shown malice, either. He'd known right then and there she felt the same. They didn't need to discuss it at the time, and they didn't. But since then they have.

He leaned back against the bar, humming in thought. Since that day, they've discussed a lot of things. Funnily enough, all of them are concerned with the here and the now. He supposed it makes sense. Their pasts are too painful, and all of their kind don't have bright futures to even dream about. But they know where they stand. They know where they want to stand. Thankfully, they don't have to move a single step. It'd taken them a lot to get to where they are now. He can't help but think about before they got there, what they went through, both together and apart, and he can't help but think about a past too agonizing to want to remember and too horrible to forget.

It's at times like these when he bothers to reflect on the past, that he wonders what her real name is, and the very act of wondering in the first place brings him immeasurable guilt. After all, he'd be beyond pissed if anyone dared ask him to reveal his real name, and Canine would probably be downright furious. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' as they say. That line was practically written with her in mind. He smirked at the thought, but the moment washed away, leaving him feeling hollow as if someone had carved out the last remaining shred of hope in his chest. Canine would say something along the lines of, "He's too oblivious to his own troubles to even realize there's no point in having any hope."

Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder from behind and he nearly jumped a foot in the air, startled out of his reverie. He whirled around, sucking in air through his teeth when he realized Canine was almost nose to nose to him, and he gulped, only partly out of attraction. Her damn eyes. In the light they appeared to glow, a bright bottle green, so bright they appear unnatural and containing an edge sharp enough to cut through anything she deemed to be in her way. She smiled lopsidedly, the right side of her lips lifting higher than the left, her teeth bared and her eyes blown wide, giving her a look simultaneously comical and sinister, chilling him to the bone even as he realized he wasn't shivering from fear.

"Spacing out already?" She cooed, that expression still on her face before her eyes warmed and her smile turned closed lips and flirty, her head tilting to meet her right shoulder as she raised a hand and lifted his chin almost imperceptibly with the tip of her index finger, and he didn't miss the way it made him look down into her eyes, knowing it was her intention. He blinked, the right corner of his mouth lifting up as he shook his head then released an incredulous rush of breath, lips puffing out with the released air that was immediately caught between them. If she wanted to flirt, he'd flirt.

His eyes locked onto hers with a smirk as he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him, leaning down and pressing his lips to her neck. She's about average height, and he's decidedly not; most guys don't hit six-foot-nine. Canine only reaches his shoulder even with the added five-inches of her heeled steel-toed boots, so even with him sitting at the low bar his head was still well above her own. He gently massaged the center of her lower back, listening to her hum of approval and appreciating how well she fit into his arms, how right it felt to hold her close, and thrilled at the power exchange taking place. Canine usually took charge, with her need to control her life, while Zombie preferred to live spontaneously. It worked between them because sometimes she needed to relinquish her control to someone she trusts, not always able to keep herself strong, and sometimes he needed the security she brings and to indulge in the need to be protective. They keep each other sane.

"Just thinking about you. Got a problem with that, Canine?" He punctuated his words with a nip to her neck, ego swelling as he heard the gasp she tried to stifle.

Canine breathed in deeply before relaxing against him. When she pulled back she leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes. He studied her lips as she spoke. "Yeah, 'cause you weren't watching me dance… I felt like you were ignoring me…" By the tone of her voice, he knew she wanted him to go along with the little game.

He tightened his arms around her and tilted his face so their lips were ghosting against each other. No one would pay them any notice, not here. "You always have my full attention. But if you want affection… " He pecked her lips gently. "You only have to ask…" Another peck, before he nibbled at her jaw. His hands began to travel the plains of her back, ghosting along her spine. His words were whispered against the skin of her neck this time, hot breath and lips, tongue and teeth. "Say the words." It was a command.

Canine sighed out longingly, her body melting against him with the action, the words, "Please, Zombie, I need you…" spilling from her lips, hushed and urgent. While she usually can't handle not having the balance of power tipped in her favor, relationship matters are different. He knows what she likes. She wants him to be in control but doesn't want to make it easy; she challenges that control, and he reasserts it. It's a skillful balance.

He pulled her into his lap, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her fiercely, stealing the breath from her lungs before she could breathe it in. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held him closer still, arching against his firm chest, and he enjoyed the way her chest felt against his. Their hearts beat in sync, racing at the thrill of the moment, even as the kiss began to calm into a brief series of lips brushing furtively, so they could draw air into their lungs once more, but unwilling to let any air in the space between them. After an age, Zombie relinquished his tight hold on Canine enough for her to move away if she so chose, but instead, she laid her head against his heart, feeling it beating through the thin fabric of his band tee, and smiled to think of her happiness during the moment, not dependent on their past nor their highly probable lack of a future. For now, this is enough.

They relaxed against one another, Zombie stroking his hands through her soft jet black hair, holding her close. Moments like this, where they're not alone but feel privacy nonetheless, are special. Too special to ruin with words. They rested before Canine reluctantly pulled away. Zombie let her stand up and smiled at her, the moment held not in the air but in their eyes, meeting and holding to affirm they both understood how the other felt, and converting to memory not the thoughts in their head but the look in their eyes.

Canine put her hands on her hips, clad in a neon green miniskirt patterned like snakeskin. He'd always thought it was fitting on her and means it as the compliment she knows it is. Her jet black sleeves draped over her slender hands, soft, dyed-black hair down for once and nearly reaching her hips. He couldn't decide where to look, not yet having a chance to admire his love from up close that evening, his eyes flitting down to her long, pale legs, which seemed to stretch on forever with along the sinewy muscles that he knew could kick strong enough to incapacitate, or even kill. Then he looked back at her face, seeing the beginnings of a smirk play across her lips. Her eyes narrowed playfully, and she leaned in close, the low-cut of her top distracting him even as he forced himself to look into her eyes and not her chest. He knows from experience that she likes it when he's a gentleman, likes when he's sincere about his intentions and comfortable enough to wear his emotions on his sleeves. Then she leaned in, but this time she turned her head and whispered into his ear, nose brushing against his blue-black hair, sending his pulse racing faster and faster with her every word as all thoughts of being a gentleman fled.

"Like what you see, Zombie?" She whispered, simultaneously sweetly and dangerously, his name sounding oh so right in her dark lilt before she pulled back just enough to kiss the side of his lips but darted back with a coy smile before he could once again pull her close. She clasped her hands behind her back, tossing her head so her locks fell behind her right shoulder, and turned on her heels, sauntering away and only turning back to wink, her heeled combat boots clicking against the linoleum as she blended into the crowd. She knows exactly what she does to him. And he knows exactly what he does to her.

Damnit. Sitting at the bar, now alone once more, is decidedly not the time to be getting excited. Willing himself into a state of decidedly unaroused calm, he crossed his left leg over the opposite knee, bright blue converse contrasting against his shredded dark-wash jeans, and leaned back against the red-topped granite surface of the bar. The bartender, who ignored their actions from a moment prior, wordlessly set down a random drink in front of him and he took it with a nod of thanks. Tipping the glass against his lips and remembering what it feels like to have hers against his, he felt as the cool liquid slid down his throat, burning a good deal before washing down and drowning out the frantic beating of his heart.

Canine… He still remembers the first time he met her when she was just seventeen and himself only a year or so older. He remembers seeing her stare down the barrel of a gun and he could sense she had their kind's power, but she wasn't using it. She'd… just stared. Blankly. He got her to safety, thinking she had a reason to not harm the bastard pointing the loaded weapon right between her eyes. Then she'd looked at him and just asked him why he even bothered to save her. Not a thank you, not a "why would you save a total stranger," but a "why bother?" as if her own life were more meaningless to her than it would be to him. It made him uncomfortable, and he'd decided right then and there that he wouldn't let her die. So that night he'd taken her to meet others like himself.

Ever since then, he'd wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know why she was this way, wanted to make her see the value in herself. As he grew to know her more, they developed a sense of camaraderie, a sense of trust that he found exhilarating. Zombie's never trusted anyone as much as her, and he knew she felt the same. Despite being friends, they never truly got along. Despite her now being twenty-one and himself twenty-three, knowing each other for four years and already having developed a bond stronger than either had ever had with anyone, he still didn't know shit about her past. To be fair, she didn't know all that much about his, and all he knew was that hers was a hell of a lot worse. He knows he wants to be there for her always, to protect her, to keep her safe from herself and the world that's after them both and their kind at large. Fuck it, he wants domesticity. A… family… And he knows she wants it too. In a perfect world, where they don't have powers, where no one is burdened with unnatural abilities that sign their death certificate before they can even spell their own name, in such a world, the reality for most, they could live their dream.

They'd talked about their ideal futures once. They talked about the family they would've liked to have, the friends they would've been overjoyed to meet, the mundane aspects of life that the lucky majority of the world take for granted. Everything from childhood dreams to adult aspirations. They would've liked to go to college. He would've liked to be a biophysicist, and she would've liked to be an archaeologist. They love thinking about that perfect world, where they could be happy. The vision turns sour when they realize they aren't a part of such a world. They'd always known as much. But actually thinking about it brings up memories, ones no one should have to bear.

One night, not all that long ago, she'd told him about her past, and it's all he knows of it. Canine talked about how one of the Indiana Jones movies was the last movie she'd ever watched with her parents, about how they feared her for her powers, about how her parents cried during the movie and for a few minutes she didn't realize why. About how she came to the sudden realization that the film was supposed to be a distraction. About how, as soon as she came to that revelation, she grabbed the bag she'd had prepared since her seventh birthday, just three years prior, and she ran, escaping just in time. She's only alive because she realized it was the first time she'd seen her father cry. She's only alive because she didn't hesitate, deciding if she was wrong she could come back, but she wasn't wrong. Her parents had become too afraid of her. They'd made a call, and she was almost taken away. And when the government takes you away, you never come back. Just listening to her story, the curt words she'd used and her indifferent inflection had him horrified beyond words. He'd cried, not even bothering to hide his anguish at hearing her suffering, despite how long ago it occurred. He knew she hadn't moved on, she'd simply distanced herself so she could ignore the pain. Because her powers only work on physical pain, not the kind that can't be healed.

The memory of that night, the resurfacing thoughts of her, crying, scared and alone, brought about a surge of anger towards those that would dare harm his love, and his protective instincts flared. He got up to see if he could find her in the crowd, needing to hold her close for his own sanity, but just then he felt his phone vibrate with the onset of a text.

Ready to head home. I can see u sulking. Anything i can do to fix that? -Canine

He smiled ruefully. His own thoughts had him depressed, but as he read the words his heart lightened just enough. He typed out a hasty reply, searching the crowd and catching a glimpse of her near the back, by the soda fountain, where she usually camps out. He keeps begging Don to put a soda fountain behind the bar so he can sit with her and they can sip their respective drinks of choice together, but so far, no dice. He lifted his hand in a wave and stood after draining his glass.

I can think of a few things -Zombie

Hmm. Ambitious, are we? -Canine

He smirked down at his phone before stuffing it into his pocket as he pushed through the crowd, and within moments was standing facing her, her head angled up as far as she could to look him in the eyes, looking up at him through her lashes with a dark smile that held intense promises. His dark blue eyes followed her lips as they quirked further upwards under his stare, and he smiled widely. Offering her his hand, she sidled up close to his left side as they walked back home.

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #no warnings on this one!#also they're finally in a relationship for fucking sake lol #canine/zombie #longest one-shot in the universe so far

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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HTS One-Shot: No More Words Were Said

Summary: Bleeding is always fun. Dying doesn't seem so bad. It's living she's having trouble with.

Warnings: Near-character death (but no-one dies)

Bleeding is always fun.

Dying doesn't seem so bad.

It's living she's having trouble with.

Canine strolled down a back alley in the worst part of town on her way to Zombie's flat, in the heart of a series of interconnected alleys appearing as a labyrinth meant to keep one in, not out. Other than Zombie, she's the only one who knows the way through and the only one who's bothered to learn; their kind usually don't stick together, but they have a… connection. Reluctant as she is to admit. They'd known each other for about three years, and it was only recently they'd accepted what they'd known for a long time. She doesn't think of them as dating , per se, or at least, not yet. They don't hold hands or kiss and are practically indistinguishable from the friends they'd become, but something's noticeably different. Lost in thoughts, she stepped over and around the piles of waste and trash littering the narrow path between the buildings surrounding her on autopilot in the lack of light. The sun had long since set, casting violent purples through the sky like a fresh bruise, the few lights along her path dim and far in between.

The alley winded precariously, twisting left and right as if to confuse those who trespassed and connecting in ways inconducive to a planned community, appearing instead as connected veins staying clear of the arteries of society. These veins were backed up with bile and rust, and the sheer stench of the alley nearly overcame all her other senses so she didn't notice the dead, rotting cat in her path till she almost stepped on it. Poor thing, she mused, pausing in her relaxed gait. But before she could take another step a hand reached out faster than she could react, attempting to wrench her behind a dumpster so piled over with trash she almost missed seeing the spray paint on the wall above boasting, "Free Hugs."

Just as the hand started to close around her arm its owner screamed in agony, the hand retracting as if stung. She sighed, shaking her head with a dangerous little smile. Messing with Canine is a death sentence; she's not in the mood to kill right now, but she'd be coming back to teach the bastard a lesson later. Not breaking her pace, Canine continued walking leisurely up to the fork where the only options were left or right. Without hesitation, she started to turn left.

It's a good thing she ran into Zombie at that moment, a good thing he happened to look down the alley she'd just emerged from, a good thing he'd noted the hand lifting glinted steel, a good thing she trusts him enough to allow him to shove her backward as hard as he could. Her palms scraped the ground and bloodied instantly, shredded skin peeling back in layers as she manipulated the pain out of her mind. Meanwhile, the bullet had burrowed itself into the wall instead of the side of her skull. Canine stared blankly at it. She honestly couldn't decide how she felt about this turn of events. But she knew how Zombie would feel.

She looked up at him impassively. He returned the look with a smile, reaching out a hand and helping her to her feet before wiping off her blood on his jeans, the new stains indistinguishable from all the old.

"Thanks."

"Sure thing."

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

Zombie knew she wasn't referring to helping her up. The corners of his mouth turned up ruefully.

"Yeah, I actually did. So, McDonnelley's?"

"I don't drink."

Zombie smirked, an expression that looked as much at ease on his face as it did unnerving on hers. "I know. But I do. You coming?"

Canine nodded, and with that, they headed down the right fork, shoulders bumping as no more words were said.

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #orginal work #near-character death #but no one dies #also someone spray painted in an alley the words free hugs #but they attached a v diff meaning to it #but canine can fend for herself #canine/zombie #eventual ship

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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HTS One-Shot: Leaving the Corpses to Rot

Summary: He's not the type to ask for thanks. She's not the type to give it.

Warnings: Drug dealers, threats of violence, threats of sexual assault, minor character death (don’t worry, only the bad guys die)

He traversed the narrow gap between two buildings, passing broken windows and boarded up walls that denoted the uglier part of town. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his lacerated jeans, he scuffed the toes of his beaten-up blue converse against the pavement and cocked his neck to crack the vertebrae, rolling his shoulders back and down with a sigh. It's at this time of night where most people pretends not to hear someone scream.

Just then he heard it; someone threatening one of his kind. Without hesitation, he took off running, dashing around the corner and already envisioning the scenario he'd enact in the person's mind. He'd sprinted to the corner just as he heard a thick voice grunt, "Took my drugs, huh bitch? You want me to take somethin' from you's instead?! Bet your ass'd feel good to take and beat, huh?!"

Having almost overshot the alley, he rounded on the scene unfolding. Three druggies with guns backed up the head man who had a pistol pressed between the eyes of the one of his kind's skull. Her eyes were blank, no visible emotions passing through them and her face was so impassive he thought she must be injured too much to use her power. She just stood there, not bound, not restrained. Just waiting.

Enraged, he spontaneously threw himself to the ground to the right of where he'd stood before anyone could think to aim and then used his power to lock them into their minds. The fight was over before it could begin as all four men instantly went slack-jawed and fell to the ground, appearing in a peaceful slumber except for their eyes, wide open in terror as minute screams passed stole their breath.

Because of how carelessly he'd thrown himself to the side his elbow scraped the ground, skin shredding, soon to add another scar to his wiry frame. Ignoring it, he pushed himself up in time to get a good look at the one he'd rescued, taking in her long, jet black hair as his eyes roamed over her. Tight leather pants, grey flannel overshirt tied around her waist, red tank top, platform combat boots, and her eyes- vivid green, reflecting the lights around them. He regarded her warily, returning her gaze. He's not the type to ask for thanks, but he did want to know what she called herself.

Staring at him, she didn't even speak, blinking lazily before looking down towards the ground, tilting her head to her left and letting out a sigh through her nose, seemingly waiting him out.

"Zombie."

Obviously having expected him to disregard her, her head snapped up at his sudden words, brows furrowed in obvious confusion. Cute. Then he realized she wasn't confused about why he'd told her his pseudonym; she was confused as to what he'd said in the first place. The realization dawned on him with a start, and he blinked, mouth opening slightly. "Right, I see you don't know why I said that, do you?"

She shook her head.

"I can sense your power, and you can sense mine. But you chose not to use yours. And you don't know why I told you the name I go by. All that correct?"

She made a sound similar to laughing, a chuff of air passed between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. "That was supposed to be a name?"

He stared unblinkingly.

With an eye-roll and silent sigh, she answered him by looking at the blood starting to leak down his elbow, and then the pain disappeared instantly like it was never there. She then looked back at his face, not quite looking into his eyes.

He smiled, just a slight curve of his lips. "Interesting. And thanks. As I said, I call myself Zombie, and you?"

A casual lift of her right shoulder in an imitation shrug. "Doesn't matter. Let's cut to the chase; why'd you bother saving me?"

He did a mental double-take, blinking as his brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry?" He asked, thinking he'd heard wrong. Thinking she couldn't have been implying she's not worth saving.

Flipping long, dark hair behind one shoulder, she spoke up, her bored voice from before becoming darker and cynical. "I said. Why. Bother?" Her eyes narrowed at him challengingly.

He held up both hands slowly, hoping to convey his sincere intentions with his gaze. "Look, I'm not looking for a fight. I just want to help."

She ignored him.

He sighed, choosing to ignore her previous cynical statement, and lowered his hands, stuffing them casually into his pockets. "Alright, putting that aside, let's start with this-- if I had to call you something, what would I call you?" She regarded him evenly, playing along and avoiding the original topic. "... I don't actually care. I haven't been called anything that didn't involve, "bitch" in some way in years."

"... Okay, so we'll figure a name out later."

"... Whatever."

He nodded, hoping to avoid cynical topics for the rest of their interaction. "Alright. Well, if you haven't met any others like us, I think it's high time you should."

Now it was her turn to lock eyes with him, though she quickly looked down and he thought he heard her whisper, "There are others, too…?". Coming back to herself, she scrutinized his old band tee, eyes traveling to his ripped jeans and bright blue converse before darting up to his blue-black messy hair. Seeing something she decided to trust, she nodded mostly to herself and stepped over the drug leader's now-lifeless body, soon reaching his side as he turned and walked down the alley he'd come from, both figures melting into the darkness and leaving the corpses to rot.

#anthem writes #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #original work #tw: death #tw: threats #canine/zombie #eventual ship #canine is pan and agender #zombie is omni #i dont know how/when i'll be able to work that info in so just putting it here for now #they take for fucking ever to get together lmao

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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Info about my original universe (not yet posted about)

I call this universe: They Hide to Survive While Fighting the Urge to Give Up, or Hide to Survive for short, or HTS for even shorter.

#original work #original universe #they hide to survive while fighting the urge to give up #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #i promise it's not as angsty as i probs made it seem #and superpowers hell yeah

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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The Clothes Hit the Market

Summary: The fashion show was about to begin, and its trends would spread throughout society once the clothes hit the market. Hopefully, they won't.

---

The models were preparing for their outfits to take center stage. Several of them huddled together, ready to walk the runway, while others were still dressing or being covered in enough makeup so as to erase any pretense that they had a single flaw. Every one of them was nearly equal in proportions, in height, weight distribution and muscle mass, for the sole purpose of distinguishing them as indistinguishable from one another and ensuring they could all take one another's place. After all, they aren't what's important here. It's the clothing they portray that everyone cares about.

A few of the models had been wearing outfits being fawned over and fluffed so the project would be a success. A ruddy brunette with hair swept into a high bun was swathed in a flattering rouge ballgown with a garish yellow bow that the designer quickly took notice of, deeming it not the look he was trying to convey and unpinning it hastily. Yet another pinned on her a small rose-shaped hair accessory to match the shade of her pale pink shoes, and both ignored how her ribcage jutted out the fabric of the dress.

A model with warm brown skin and beaten-into-submission heat-straightened hair was clad in a pale blue waistcoat with a matching skirt and lavender heels, her poppy-red dress shirt clinging to her nearly skeletal frame and still managing to appear too small. She smiled in a way that spoke of smiling countless times with no cheer behind it and the white of her teeth was brighter than that of her eyes. She had her eyes trained on another model, stealing glances when no one was looking and a hint of genuine emotion appearing on her face only for the designers to demand that she school her expression.

The model she was eyeing was albino, her hair, skin, and eyes belonging to winter's embrace; the designer's claimed it gave her intrigue, the reason she's valuable to them as a model, and that it didn't merely prevent her from basking in the summer sun. Long pale hair was swept into a thin low ponytail laid over the shoulder of her ink-bottle dress that swooped low to show off her clavicles and gathered together at her waist where most would only be able to fit a thigh, the hem reaching down to her ankles and slit up the side to show off long legs not proportionate to their thickness. Little did the other model know, she was being eyed right back. Little did either know, the designers saw and decided this would be the two's last show.

---

They never get to choose the clothes they're made to wear. The clothes were chosen for them, applied to them, and they portray them. Without the clothes, the models were unimportant, worthless, and without purpose to the event. All the models at the event were starving. They all needed to fit the clothes. The clothes became smaller. The models were forced to adapt. The audience loved the clothes. The audience didn't see the models. The next step? The clothes hit the market.

#anthem writes #original work #518 words #metaphor #societal metaphor #society is fucked up man i think we can all agree #slight mention of homophobia #cause the designers in charge of the fashion show are d*cks #also warnings for body image issues

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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A Beige Lipstick Stain

Summary: Everything has a purpose, so what happens when one can no longer serve it? What happens when one takes another's purpose away? One careless action can drastically reduce another's sense of self, and all meaning found within.

---

The cup remembered how it got that stain.

Dishes clinked as one of the coffee shop employees washed them for the morning rush, the cup itself placed upon a drying rack and ready for use. Beings entered, ordered food and drinks, sat down at the tables closest to the window to take advantage of the natural light, and shrugged off their fall coats as they began to warm up. All the cup had realized was the beings were more likely to order cups to fill the type of ceramic mug it was if the beings wore layers. The cup liked being useful, and it was aware of its purpose. Every morning when the coffee shop opened it was cleaned and dried before being stacked along with the other cups until a customer ordered a drink. That day, the barista greeted a recently regular customer, known as an "Alec," who the cup had never served before. The being ordered a liquid and the cup's purpose was renewed.

"Janine," the barista, attempted to converse with Alec, but Alec did not appear to be in the mood for talking, and Janine moved away from its table with a comforting smile after setting a small tray with packets of sweeteners alongside the cup on the being's table. Alec had chosen a seat right up against the window in the back so the light from the midday sun gleamed off its ruddy brown hair and cast upon its thin, wire-rimmed glasses. The being, Alec, mostly ignored the cup, setting a heavy backpack against its cushioned chair and pulling out a business laptop before yanking off its windbreaker, revealing a washed-out long-sleeved tee-shirt and heavy denim jeans. It sat, its long legs stretched out underneath the table, and Alec cracked its knuckles before moving to press the button and powering the laptop on.

For several minutes the being clicked away on the keys, the noise obscenely loud in the quiet of the mostly empty coffee shop. It appeared to be in a rush, long, bony fingers jamming the keys with vicious intent without Alec having to so much as glance at its hands. This continued for several minutes while the liquid inside the cup grew cold until Alec jumped at a loud tone beginning to play through its phone. The being paled and fished the object out of its bag, and after seeing the contact, swiped to ignore the call with urgency before setting its phone face down on the table. Alec appeared shaken, taking a deep calming breath and squeezing its eyelids together before seeming to calm slightly and resumed its typing. The cup thought nothing of the events thus far until it felt the table vibrate insistently with the onset of several repeated notifications. Alec tried to ignore them for a time before reaching for the phone, hurriedly tapping the screen, and suddenly Alec became deeply afraid. The cup couldn't fathom why.

Alec suddenly lurched up to a standing position and tried to pack up quickly, stuffing notebooks full of symbols the cup deemed meaningless into its bag, but then the being looked up in shock. An older being had strode in and marched right up to Alec, sitting down in the seat adjacent to the being with a smile the cup considered not to be polite, as far as it had observed from other beings 'till then.

"Sit down, child." The older being commanded, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in its navy blue skirt, the color contrasting with the wine pigment on its long, sharp nails.

Alec's lower lip trembled as it snapped its jaws shut before it unfroze and slowly sat down. The cup perceived the interaction thus far to be rather odd but had never been able to reflect on such sentiments.

The older being smiled, lips widening to show off-white teeth in a way the cup thought to be menacing. "Good. Now, do you know why I'm here, Alexander?"

Alec, or perhaps also "Alexander," frowned, and its voice shook. "Don't call me that; I go by Alec now. And why're you here? I don't want to be part of your family anymore," it insisted.

Oh , thought the cup, not "Alexander" after all.

The older being pursed its lips as it wrinkled its nose. "I didn't give you the right to shorten your name, now did I?" It asked with a lilting voice that reminded the cup of a drop of honey into a pitcher of black coffee.

The older being leaned forward, ginger-colored hair falling from behind its ears as its eyes bore into Alec's. "And I don't give a shit what you want, sweetie, because I decide what actually happens and what doesn't." Its grin widened as it whispered conspiratorially. "Just like I decided after your precious parents died I'd be the one who owns you." The being's voice lilted as if in song in that sentence, the cup noted.

Alec sat back, putting distance between itself and the other being. Its voice warbled on its next words. "She was your sister. I can't believe you'd talk about Mom that way--"

"I am your mother, brat." Despite the harshness of its tone the being's grin never wavered.

"... You aren't my real mother, Candice."

The "Candice" being smiled and leaned forward, its elbows on the table. Alec, meanwhile, shrank back and its Adam's apple bobbed in its throat. Peculiar , thought the cup. It hadn't known these beings could swallow without sipping from a cup first.

Candice spoke after a moment of successfully intimidating Alec. "I may not be your birth mother, but I'm still the one in charge, here." With that, it took the cup and sipped deeply from it, Candice's beige lipstick leaving a print on the cup's rim. Candice then stood, still holding the cup, and leaned in, speaking in hushed tones so only Alec and the cup could overhear. "I wouldn't forget that if I were you, nephew. " The last word was sneered, and then Candice casually opened its hand, the cup falling from between its fingers. The liquid splashed against the floor as it tilted a moment before the cup shattered into fifty-two pieces. It knew because it could perceive in fifty-two different locations now. But since then it could no longer serve its purpose.

Heads turned at the sound of ceramic shattering, and the few patrons in the shop began to mumble amongst themselves. The barista rushed over as Candice sauntered away and out the door, leaving Alec to assure the woman it was an accident and Alec would cover the cost of the cup. But those words it uttered to the barista echoed in the cup's consciousness. The cost of the cup , the cup thought in fifty-two places at once. But I'm still here.

Not for long, as Janine got out a pan and broom and cleared away the broken shards of ceramic, sighing at the loss but assuring Alec there was no harm done. The cup didn't understand why no one made more of a fuss at its destruction but came to the decision that it must not be a big deal for a being such as itself to shatter. After all, if it can no longer serve its purpose why should anyone be bothered to mourn its loss? However, Janine only scooped up fifty-one pieces; the last found itself under the plush chair Alec still sat in. For a while it was very odd for the cup, to think the same thought so many times simultaneously instead of just once. The other pieces had been disposed of temporarily in the trash can behind the counter, a place the cup was interested to be in because it had never been, and now the cup perceived in more than one location and had thoughts about each location in each location at once. How odd.

The fifty-one pieces in the trash ended up being ground to dust at the dump after spending a mere few days still inside the shop. For those few days, the cup didn't know what to make of itself and decided it no longer had much of a "self" to do with. Afterward, the cup felt its ability to perceive was greatly condensed. It went from being large and in one place to large and in many places to small and in one place. Altogether, it wasn't that much different for the cup, except it was no longer filled with liquid and it was no longer cleaned. Truthfully, it was no longer a cup. It could no longer serve its purpose.

The shard now bore a beige lipstick stain.

#anthem writes #original work #1437 words #no ships #pov is a literal cup #poor cup #also poor alec #candice is a b*tch

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anthemsreturn-writes · 4 years

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Hey do you have an Ao3???

I am so sorry I never answered this, I legit just reset my password. I’d somehow forgotten my email *and* tumblr password and classes have been so hectic i havent had time to reset them.

I do have an Ao3! I’ve been posting on it much more frequently than I do here (because of locking myself out of my account) and I very recently started another Ao3 just for my original works, so Im going to put everything ive written on both in here; this blog will become more of a random writing compilations blog, along with my (perpetually) in-progress novel! Im also thinking of starting an ask blog for this as a side-blog, featuring my original characters and universe.

Im going to revamp this account to reflect my current interests (dont worry, im still very much in the hetalia fandom and always will be!) and will start doing some real maintenance on it, in addition to much more frequent posting!

I changed the username on my other tumblr (of which im on constantly) to anthemsreturn bc mcr is back babey!!!

I promise to do my best to be very active on both accounts (although on my other tumblr im p much only a reblogger) and i look forward to posting a lot of written content! Id also appreciate feedback on some of my newer works, and im open to beta for others, so hmu! (:

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anthemsreturn-writes · 5 years

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Hey I'm really sorry for bothering you,I just noticed that you play hetagames and I was wondering if you know any USUK games,they are really hard to find

Hey anon! You are not bothering me at all! ^^

The only games with USUK I have discovered so far are:

RPG GAMES

Royal Date (Cardverse)

Darkness of the Rose (2ptalia)

Death of the Rose (2ptalia)

War of two Worlds

The Blue Spirits (Fantasy AU)

Aveyond 2: Mathia’s Quest (Hetalia MOD for Aveyond 2)

Aveyond 4: Hetalia (Hetalia MOD for Aveyond 4)

There is also this really sweet 2048 USUK GAME

#hetalia #usuk #rpg games #feel free to add more to the list!#important

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anthemsreturn-writes · 5 years

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To Set Aside One’s Pride

Hi!!! I’m really sorry I wasn't able to get this done by Christmas, things were hectic, no excuse for that! This is my Secret Santa gift for @forloveoflibertea for the @usuknetwork event. I went with the magical strike kiss under the mistletoe prompt combined with the optional omegaverse twist! I hope you like it!!! :)))))

Word Count: 3,109

Warnings: They think they hate each other at first, but they secretly have those feelings.

Summary: The company Christmas party was coming up, and a certain Frenchman has a plan to get Alfred and Arthur together in an unconventional way.

---

"Alfred, if you don't leave my office right now, we'll have a big problem!" Arthur, the quickly rising star omega of the company, bit out, venom in his voice and poison in his glare. His scent was spiked with irritation.

"HA! You know what else is big?" Alfred goaded, knowing Arthur couldn't do anything to him without getting fired, what with Alfred being the company president's son. He almost smelled more obnoxious than he was acting, their scents combining to make the room unbearable.

There was a loud groan before Arthur's fluffy blond head hit the table. "Why do you have to be such a child?" He ground out before looking up, cold bottle green eyes locking with the alpha's bemused pacific blue behind his thin-wired frames.

Simply smirking, Alfred "aw'd" at him condescendingly. "You're just jealous, baby." There was an odd spike in his scent at the end of his sentence, which Arthur completely ignored.

Twitching, he looked about ready to murder Alfred. "Do not call me that!" he growled out, the blush creeping into his cheeks saying otherwise.

Holding up his hands in a placating gesture and laughing obnoxiously loud, Alfred spun on his heels, his long, feathered black coat swishing behind him. "Whatever… sweetie."

Arthur barely restrained himself from throwing his metal paperweight at the brat's head. Alfred's only four years younger than him, and by no means unintelligent, yet he acts like an imbecile or an immature hooligan. The dyed purple stripe in his hair and a temporary purple star tattoo on his cheek only add to this effect. Convincing himself he was angry at Alfred and not at all flustered by the pet names, Arthur quickly got back into the throes of his work, ignoring the silence and not at all wishing he'd come back.

-------

Back in his private, top floor office, Alfred was feeling incredibly proud of himself. He considers his work day to be wasted if he doesn't bug the adorably grumpy Arthur Kirkland at least once. Just as he himself was about to open up some of his own work-related documents, there was a knock on his door. Fixing a professional smile on his face and wiping off the self-satisfied smirk, he called out, "Come in!"

The door opened halfway. "Ah! Mon Ami, how are you?"

Smile dropping off his face, Alfred sighed gustily. His cheerful scent mellowed. At least the man was wearing a normal three-piece suit, meaning he wasn't in the mood to be putting on a pink frilly dress and taking his department on strike.

"What do you want, Francis?"

The man came in uninvited, shutting the door behind himself. The beta strutted towards Alfred's desk, flipping his long blond hair over his shoulder idly. Then he leaned on the desk with one hand. "Oh, nothing really, I just wanted to ask you how things are going between you and Mr. Eyebrows lately," he asked, his tone suggestive.

Alfred arched a brow. "What's there to tell?" He asked dryly, ignoring the jab at Arthur's rather over-sized eyebrows. They're actually kinda cute, not that he would ever admit it.

Leaning in, Francis chuckled. "Oh, but everyone outside of his office heard the little spat between the two of you. What was that about, what was it again? "Babe" and "Sweetie"?"

Alfred glowered at him, scent and mood darkening. "I'm not in the mood, Francis." The man was ruining his good mood by suggesting there was more to his teasing Artie earlier.

He smiled lecherously. "So you're not denying calling the formidable Brit those pet names?"

"... Get out, Francis."

"Wait, wait, wait! I just wanted to make sure, now onto the actual topic at hand! I propose a bet, one that will help solve the, how shall I say, tension between the two of you?"

"... I said get out."

"Just hear me out! I know the two of you can't possibly bear to spend more than a few minutes together at a time, so this bet would be a good way to one-up him!"

Alfred didn't want to admit his intrigue. "What are you going on about?"

"Before I say anything, just know that Arthur has already agreed to this!"

"And?"

"It's simple, really. I'll handcuff the two of you together-"

"Not interested."

"Hear me out! You will both have a key to the handcuffs. The conditions are that you have to spend the entire Christmas party together on a fake date, and whoever uncuffs himself from the other first loses! And if by some miracle, you manage to go the whole party without doing so, the work environment will be much improved because you will both have learned how to cooperate!" He finished triumphantly.

Alfred regarded him warily. "And why would I agree to this?"

"Because Arthur has already done so. He bet me one hundred dollars you'd never accept."

Alfred pushed a hand through his caramel blond hair. He considered it for a minute, looking off to the side through his floor-to-ceiling windows at the busy New York streets below. It would be nice to be with the omega during the party; after all, he doesn't have a date-- it wouldn't be a date, he'd just get to tease him the entire time! Artie would get so mad and he'd come out on top like an alpha should! Hopefully, Artie won't uncuff himself at the drop of a hat though… he'll have to tone it down, but, he'd get to spend some time with him-- teasing him! That is… Finally, his resolve hardened and he turned back to Francis, nodding his head. "He deserves to lose some money," was all he said at first. Francis just smiled brightly, knowingly for some reason, because of course there's nothing more to this. "But if I win, you have to promise to not go on strike for an entire year."

An evil glint in his eye, Francis nodded. "You have my word, Mon Ami… Oh, and one more thing. If you both make it the whole party, neither of you win or lose, so expect a strike, because no one wants to work before New Years."

Alfred smiled, somehow managing to look wicked and innocent at the same time, and clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, get out of my office."

Chuckling, Francis nodded his head, beginning his retreat. "Au revoir!" he called out, shutting the door behind himself with a flourish. As he made his way down the hall, he thought, Now to just get Arthur to agree.

-------

Why did I agree to this? Arthur bemoaned, frustrated with this being the fifth time during the party a coworker asked why he was handcuffed to Alfred, of all people! Arthur was quick to reassure them it was just for a bet that he himself would be winning. Each time he had to reiterate it he got more and more frustrated, his tea and roses scent turning sour and lemony, especially with the git just grinning down at him instead of helping explain. Alfred, meanwhile, was having the time of his life watching Artie suffer, but a large part of him wished he'd smell sweet while they were together. So sweet, just for him… Uh… Alfred didn't know what to make of that thought. But as the party wore on and the gossip spread, people stopped questioning them and they were left to enjoy the party as much as they were able to in each other's immediate presence. To Arthur's surprise, however, the whole event was going rather… smoothly. Sure, he was still teased by the utter pillock he was joined to, but Alfred became less and less obnoxious as time wore on. He became almost… charming? No, not charming, just more bearable, that was it! Of course, that was it… Right.

"Oh! Hi guys, I see you two must be having fun!" Arthur's cheerful coworker and office friend, an alpha woman named Erzebet, walked up to them with a smile and a wave. Just as Arthur was about to reply he found himself gently pushed behind Alfred. He frowned, scent reflecting his confusion, about to ask him what his problem was when Alfred spoke.

"Hey, Erzebet, nice to see you! Where's your mate? You should go find him." Alfred spoke tersely and authoritatively, and Arthur was honestly quite bewildered before anger took over. Who in the world does he think he is?!

Blinking in slight shock, Erzebet smiled and took a slow step back from the two of them. "That's a good idea! I don't know where he is right now, so I'd better go. I'll leave the two of you to it then." With a nod to Alfred and an astute glance at Arthur, Erzebet walked away. Arthur turned to Alfred, livid.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He shrieked quietly, trying not to make too much of a scene, despite his distress coloring the room.

"What's wrong with you? You were just going to let her flirt with you?!" Alfred smelled of acid and charcoal, and it was burning Arthur's nose, only distressing him further. Alfred finally noticed and attempted to calm his scent back to its usual fire smoke and sandalwood.

Calming slightly and face twisting trying to comprehend the stupidity of his statement, Arthur then pursed his lips with a frown. "Maybe losing one hundred dollars is worth it," he bit out acidly. He was reaching into his pocket when Alfred grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

Alfred quickly backtracked. "Wait, Arthur, come on, I just… I didn't mean to upset you, I--"

"Didn't mean to upset me?! By being rude to and chasing away my friend? I find that hard to believe. Do you want me to be miserable working here? Is that why you always bother me? … Do you truly hate me that much?" Arthur's rage-fueled voice quieted down as he spoke until it was almost hard to hear him over the noise of the party. Tears poked into the corners of his which he valiantly fought from spilling.

Panicking, Alfred's scent turned tart and vinegar, causing Arthur to crinkle his nose and start to panic in response. Noticing, Alfred turned it gentle and comforting, surprising Arthur, the sudden change causing tears to start to spill. "What? No! Artie, no, look, I-I just… look, can we just forget about this? I'll make it up to you, I swear! Just please sweetie, please don't cry." Without thinking, he wrapped the omega in his arms, his left and Arthur's right pressed awkwardly between them.

In Arthur's ensuing shock, the tears vanished and his scent sweetened against his will. That was the first time Alfred had ever called him a pet name that wasn't intended as an insult or to rile him up. It was… genuine? Was he honestly trying to comfort him? Regardless of the alpha’s intentions, which were obvious to everyone else in the room, Arthur was indeed comforted and, without hesitating, buried his face in Alfred's chest and felt calmed by the hand gently rubbing the center of his back. Alfred, for one, had never realized just how soft Arthur was, how delicate, and how he absolutely needed a hero like him to protect him.

Once Arthur was calmed down (a little while still after that, because the hug was… nice) Alfred led him away from the majority of the party and to a back corner where he could apologize and tell Artie why, exactly, he did what he did. He had only just realized it himself.

Arthur was surprisingly compliant as Alfred led him through the crowd until they reached a deserted niche. Then Alfred, instinctively, nudged Arthur into the corner and blocked it off with his body, keen on protecting the man he now viewed as a vulnerable, sweet, cute omega who he has the sole job of protecting. Alfred still warred with his feelings internally, but it was too late. For better or worse, the alpha inside of him wants this omega, like a light-bulb turned on in his head, or more aptly, he opened his eyes to see the light had always been on.

Arthur looked up at Alfred questioningly but unprotestingly. His emotions were going through a similar whirlwind, and he suddenly didn't hate, or rather "hate," Alfred as he previously thought he did.

Alfred sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, scent tumultuous. "Baby…" he started off, "I'm sorry I upset you, and for chasing away your friend. I know it's not an excuse, but, the thought of another alpha being, closer to you than I am, I dunno, it just, triggered? Something inside of me, that I can't really explain. No, wait, I can, I--" mustering up his courage, he sighed before smiling and looking down into Arthur's beautiful green eyes, scent evening out pleasantly. "I like you, Artie," he said wistfully. Arthur had been confused throughout his speech before his eyes widened and his heart clenched in a way that warmed his whole body. His lips trembled, and he looked the picture of a deer frozen in headlights. Alfred moved his hand to gently cup Arthur's cheek, stroking it softly, before realizing Arthur hadn't replied yet and the touch might be unwanted. He quickly removed his hand, scent sheepish, before Arthur's shocked scent melted into one of unadulterated happiness and he whined softly against his will, embarrassedly, in the back of this throat when Alfred removed his hand. Alfred let out a soft breath, his smile more relaxed and genuine than either his megawatt smile or his smirk. He returned his hand and gently cupped his cheek, waiting for an answer. Arthur didn't know what to say, so he sniffled as tears of happiness blurred his vision and his scent sweetened, smelling of tea, roses, and now rain and honey as well.

"Artie, would you like to go on a proper date with me?" Alfred asked, hoping Arthur would say something. Arthur looked down and wet his lips before nodding, looking up with a small but pleased smile.

"Yes… I would," he replied softly. "... Although, the rest of this party can be our first date?" He asked, emboldened by his budding and strengthening feelings. He mentally looked back on past meetings with Alfred and realized just how much they were holding back their true feelings, insulting each other so they could ignore how they felt, belittling each other so they could forget how they felt, and convincing themselves they hated each other so they wouldn't ache inside. He realized now the ache was completely gone, and he felt, happy. A thought struck him. "Uhm… wait. Does this mean? That we're…" his voice nearly squeaked on the last word, "boyfriends?"

Alfred's scent became stronger, more protective and proud. "Yeah, it does. I'll take good care of you, Artie, I promise. And I'll make this the best first date you've ever had, alright?"

Arthur nodded meekly, too overwhelmed by his feelings to muster up his usual attitude. Cautiously he leaned forward and Alfred immediately caught him up in a hug. The alpha buried his face into Arthur's hair, gently nosing his locks and smiling, happier than he'd been in a very long time, so long he can't remember a time when he was happier, and this was only the beginning of their relationship. Arthur looked up with a smile when he caught something out of the corner of his eye… Mistletoe. He frowned and pouted, causing Alfred to look up questioningly.

"... You led me over here on purpose," he accused. His mind raced. Alfred had probably set all this up! He purposefully upset him just so he could comfort him, then twist the knife! He had him believing this was genuine! But… it couldn't be, could it? Arthur started to pull away. "I can't believe you planned this! Did you set all this up just to kiss me? Did you honestly think you could trick me like that?! I--"

"I didn't plan this, Artie! I swear! This is all a coincidence. Trust, me, I lo- care about you so much, I'd never do this to upset you," Alfred cut him off before he could go on one of his trademark rants. He didn't even fully know what he'd done wrong this time, but the omega was obviously upset. Arthur's face was tinged slightly red with anger, but he quickly realized he jumped to conclusions. Alfred wasn't leading him on, he wasn't trying to trick him. He actually, really… does care about him. The red turned to one caused by embarrassment. Arthur looked down, pressing his forehead against the collar of Alfred's coat.

"Hey, baby, I swear I didn't plan this, but since it's there… why don't we follow tradition?" He asked with a smirk, scent strengthening. After a second, Arthur looked up from beneath his lashes with a smirk of his own.

"Well, it is tradition," he said angelically, scent spiking mischievously. Grinning, Alfred leaned down and captured Arthur's lips with his own, holding him close and tilting his head to the side so his glasses didn't press into Arthur's cheek. The kiss started out slow until they were enthusiastically moving their lips in tandem. It was sweet, and they both hummed into this kiss before Alfred slipped his tongue out and gently licked the seam of Arthur's lips. With a gasp, he parted them and Alfred tangled their tongues together, stroking Arthur's tongue and hip and the same time. Arthur moaned. He can't remember a kiss that felt this nice. No, better than nice. This felt… right.

Their lips molded together passionately, tongues tangling before they began to run out of air. Arthur finally felt the intense need to breathe and attempted to pull back, but Alfred held him against him a second longer before they pulled away, a string of their mixed saliva connecting them. Arthur wiped it away with the back of his palm, feeling out of breath as a pleased smirk came onto his face. Alfred just smiled, nuzzling their noses together, causing Arthur to involuntarily make a sound close to a giggle that was absolutely not a giggle. He looked down, embarrassed, but Alfred lifted his chin and molded their lips together for another kiss.

-------

At the end of the party, they both uncuffed themselves while Francis smiled, sighing over-dramatically. "Ah, love…" he cooed, both Alfred and Arthur snapping, "Shut it." Four years later, on their wedding day, they both thanked their lucky stars they took a bet for the sole purpose of their own pride and gained more than they could've ever hoped for by putting it aside.

#usuk #hetalia #usukholiday2018 #aph america #aph england #aph usuk

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anthemsreturn-writes · 5 years

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Asks are open!!! :)))) Feel free to send one by!

OTP Drabble Challenge!

Rules: Followers send a number to your ask, along with a pairing, and you write a drabble using that dialogue in your piece! Try to keep up! Expect a TON of requests!

“The doctor said it’s normal” - “Well that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“Baby, you’re not a bother.” - “I’m too needy, you don’t deserve it.”

“Come with me to the other room.” - “We’re not going to talk about this now.”

“Did you just hiss at me?” - “Are you judging me?”

“Don’t yell at me like I’m a child!!” - “DON’T THROW SCISSORS!”

“Here, take me blanket/jacket.” - “I told you, I’m not cold.” *shivering*

“Did you hear that?” - “I’m telling you, I’m haunted.”

“I just wanted an easy day with my boyfriend/girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?”

“Why are you awake right now?”

“Come over here and make me.”

“I want my best friend back.” - “Kevin is over there.”

“H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.”

“You’re lying, you’re blushing.” - “Shut up, no I’m not!”

“No, I’m not talking to you.”

“No more!” - “Okay, fine, I won’t send you any more selfies.”

“What do you have?” - “Pizza rolls and Cup O’ Noodles…that’s about it. Popcorn?”

“The salad here is really good.” - “Do I look like a fucking rabbit?”

“Open this.” - “Can you say please?”

“I just came to say goodbye…” - “Bullshit, you just feel bad.”

“You’re on level 176.” - “Can you judge me harder?”

“Jinx, you owe me a coke.” - *can’t speak until they buy a soda*

“Please don’t leave me.” - “I don’t want to go”

“Babe, I’m sorry.” - “Suck my ass.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” - “Seriously, you’re worse than a kid.”

“You can’t ride a bike?” - “Why are we whispering?”

“Is it that time of the month?” - “You literally ask me that whenever I’m mad at you!”

“We’re going downtown.” - “There’s a strip club downtown.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”

“It’s not mine, I swear.” - “How is it not fucking yours!”

“Take it off.” - “Like a bandaid?”

“I told you…” - “Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit nagging.”

“Boo?” - “You’re my boo.”

“Don’t you ever do that again! You scared the shit out of me!”

“You broke what?!?” - “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

“Why’re you dressed like that?” - “Does that mean it looks good or should I change?”

“Fine, just do what you have to do.” - “Can you stop being so freaking cute so I can concentrate?”

“…then I picked up your coffee by mistake.” - “All I want is an apology.”

“Well, this is awkward.” - “Don’t touch me.”

“You can’t make me.” - “What are you? Five?”

“You’re a blanket hog!” - “Leave me alone and stop being so selfish.”

“It’s not fair that you’re hot and funny.” - “Look who’s talking…just kidding, your jokes suck.”

“I hate you.” - “No, you don’t.”

“Should I be worried?” - “Is the grass green?”

“You’re kidding me?!” - “Shush, my mom never taught me.”

“I’m your lock screen?!” - “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Will you go with me?” - “As long as you hold my hand.”

“Baby, I’m scared.” - “You don’t have to be; not as long as I’m here.”

“Come inside, I’m sorry.” - “Not until you apologize.” - “I just said I’m freaking sorry.”

“Your voice is sexy.” - “Your ass is sexy.”

“If I asked, you’d say no.” - “You don’t know that.”

“Seriously, the chimney?” - “The squirrel can’t win!”

“32?” - “I’ll prove it!”

“It’s just so little and adorable.” - “That’s what she said.”

“You’re not mature enough to be a parent.” - “Try me.”

“Take a chance.” - “Umm…let me think…no.”

“Game’s over, you son of a bitch!!” - “Okay, just don’t hit me.”

“You forgot about my birthday!” - “In my defense, I forget about a lot of things.”

“You need more stamina.” - “No, I need more steak and eggs. So…get on it.”

“Can you dance with me?” - “You’re not mad?”

“I’ll smash it, I swear.” - “You smash it and we’re done.”

“Move!” - “Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?”

“I’m not going in.” - “Then we’re not going to get a treat after.”

“I really would’ve liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town.” - “I really would’ve liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen.”

“I found it in the recycling bin.” - “Well, you’re the one killing the environment, so who’s really in the wrong here?”

“We bet, and you lost.” - “But tattoos are permanent.”

“Can you quit being so sassy?” - “Can you quit being so controlling?”

“Are you getting jealous?” - “You’re changing your outfit, now!”

“What time is it there?” - “We’re in the same time-zone.”

“Quit flirting.” - “I didn’t mean to-”

“I just don’t know what happened.” - “You’re too good for them.”

“You have a cute nose, don’t make me break it.”

“Tell me what I can do to help.” - “Sing me to sleep.”

“You still need your baby blanket?”

“Did you black out?” - “I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“Let’s just bury the hatchet.” - “Fuck your hatchet.”

“I bet it’s a boy.” - “I bet it’s a turtle.”

“Spare change?” - “You can’t be responsible, you don’t get your wallet.”

“Cuddle or leave.” - “So is that a no to supper?”

“Are you high?” - “I’m just so fucking tired.”

“Why did I marry you?” - “It took a lot of convincing.”

“Who’s texting you?” - “Umm. nobody.”

“You have two choices.” - “Neither of which I like…”

“I want a dog.” - “I want a cat.”

“Chinese food?” - “Do we even know what that’s made of?”

“These sheets are stained.” - “That’s disgusting.”

“You don’t know how to change a tire?” - “Give it a rest, would you?”

“That’s my ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.” - “Well, kiss me so they see.”

“We got lucky. You’re not gonna do that again, right?”

“Hey, babe, look what I found.” - “GET THAT OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!!!”

“You’ve been replaced.” - “Alright, we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.”

“Are those slippers?” - “Is that you being mean? AGAIN?”

“You forgot your book.” - “No, I lost my book!”

“You’re weird.” - “Or you’re just basic.”

“We need a vacation.” - “You read my mind too much, it scares me.”

“Why’d you hug him? You love him?”

“Sorry.” - “Good choice.”

“Luck? Nope. Skills.” - “If it’s skill then do it again.”

“Why can’t you just believe me?” - “Because you lied about it before.”

“This bath is too damn hot.” - “This is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much.”

*Make up your own*

Visit @prompt-bank for more prompts!!

#usuk #hetalia #aph america #aph england #zetta writes #fic #ask #p... pwease

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