#(( and so they put a lot more effort into entirely deterring any need to use that hard power

[royalreef]

(( Opinion time? Opinion time.

I feel as though soft power is crucially underrepresented and underdiscussed within the RPC.

An explanation: you can think of power as occurring in two types, hard power and soft power. These terms are primarily used in the context of nations, but I feel it can also work in a narrative sense as well.

Hard power is exactly what you expect when you hear the term. It’s how much physical might there is, how badly getting into a fight would go. If someone goes to fight a muse, or invokes their wrath, hard power is the ability of that muse to fight back, injuring, killing, or humiliating them in the process.

A muse with a lot of hard power is someone you do not want to fight, someone with a lot of capability to physically hurt someone else and a willingness and an ease to doing so.

However, soft power, in contrast, can be thought of as social power. If hard power convinces through physical might, then soft power is primarily deterrence.

You would not want to fight this muse, because they have connections. Other muses like this muse, either because they are receiving a direct benefit from them or because they’re close to them, and if you try to go against the muse’s wishes or provoke them, then other muses in turn will retaliate. This can also mean that the muse might be offering rewards or some other benefit by prospect of complying with their wishes, and if you go against that muse’s wishes, those benefits and rewards suddenly vanish.

Likewise, soft power means that the muse with power might have more indirect methods of control over someone else’s life, and these strings can be readily pulled on if the muse needs to.

Normally when we talk about overpowered muses and muses with power, we refer to muses with hard power. It’s not hard to see why — being grievously injured or even killed can quickly and immediately end interaction entirely, whereas soft power is better for drama and thus manifests as a slower burn.

However, I feel like this is doing a disservice to muses with soft power, because both muses with a lot of hard power and muses with a lot of soft power have an unfortunate habit of inviting interaction that steps all over them or refuses to acknowledge this power. Both hard and soft power has the potential to seem overpowered or a form of god-modding if people are not fully aware that there might be consequences to their muses’ actions, if they provoke someone with the power to hurt them. Even moreso because while hard power has the benefit of flashy fight scenes and potential retaliation, soft power can turn into a slower and more agonizing series of events, as the muse with power makes their life into a living hell.

I think muns need to be more aware of both types of power a muse might have and expect both types of retaliation if another muse does not respect that power.

[texasconcealedcarry]

10 Reasons to Concealed Carry in 2023

So, you are considering the Reasons for Concealed Carry permit, but are having trouble justifying owning a firearm. With all the controversy that has stricken firearms ownership in recent years, it is no wonder that many are deterred from owning a concealed carry permit, much more, firearms. Unfortunately for those deterred by this media-catalyzed apprehension, the ability to remain secure while out in public is severely hindered. With crimes and riots of previous years creating severe precedents on the actions of those who would do you and your family harm, here are 10 reasons to concealed carry in 2023. Reasons to Concealed Carry in 2023: Concealed Carry is a Deterrent While the whole idea around a concealed carry permit is that it allows one to legally conceal a weapon, it still suffices as a deterrent. In the case of general firearms ownership, around 400 million firearms are owned by American citizens. While it stands, this is one of the main reasons the United States will always be less desirable to invade because of the sheer amount of firearms held by the US citizenry. Hitting it closer to home, the number of concealed carry permits has been increasing steadily, reaching 2.3% gains in 2022 from the previous year. It is important to note that while concealed carry does not act as a direct deterrent from violent assailants, the fact that concealed carry is becoming much more common in society increases the perceived cost of a violent interaction. This means that a potential assailant might think twice about you having a gun or not because of efforts to make concealed carry commonplace. In many ways, it is similar to the idea of a danger sign alerting someone of danger even though there may not be any perceivable danger. Fact that a concealed firearm is not meant to be visible at all, a potential assailant may be deterred by even the notion his potential victim may be carrying a weapon. Understand Firearms better Owning a Firearm is one thing, but ensuring you are trained properly enough to use it in the field is an entirely different story. Concealed carry is a practice that demands a lot of respect for firearms and the lethal force that comes with each pull of the trigger. Many new CWP holders will have everything they need to legally carry, but will still hold off out of the fear of having to use the firearm to potentially incapacitate someone with lethal force. There is a heavy toll that comes with the responsibility of concealed carry and general firearms ownership that must be respected to keep yourself and others around you safe. Any safe gun owner would be the first to say that a firearm is due a great deal of respect when handling. Gun safety is crucial at all points in time, yet might not be blatantly clear to those just beginning the process of gun ownership and concealed carry. While much of it may seem obvious - don’t put a gun at someone, make sure the chamber is empty, etc - both injury and death by accidental suicide are very real issues. Fortunately, the process of owning a CWP requires an adept level of knowledge, most of which is learned during the concealed weapon course necessary to take before the card is even printed.  For first-time gun owners, this is especially important. Much of the information that is available in these classes is about general firearms use and safety, helping people gain more insight and confidence with firearms that are useful in both the home and out in public. CWP Over Cops Now we aren’t knocking esteemed law enforcement officers, but we are alluding to a very real problem in the length of time it takes law enforcement to arrive at the scene of a crime. The time: eleven minutes, is ages compared to the mere seconds a violent altercation can take to turn in favor of the criminal. Using your right to concealed carry gives you the advantage of taking your safety into your own hands, mitigating the reliance on LEOs who will only ever be able to respond to crimes that have already happened. Now as we stated before, we are not mocking law enforcement, but pointing out that law enforcement is seldom able to arrive at the scene of a crime that is still being committed. Those precious minutes spent could mean the difference between an abduction, a murder, or a life saved. Even from a historical standpoint, the reliance on others for self-defense is very new and has been the topic of much scrutiny over the past few years, especially when concerning efforts to disarm citizens. CCW is better than other self-defense tools Chances are if you have been looking into useful forms of self-defense, you have come across a slew of videos, products, and services, all designed to help you demolish any oncoming threat in any situation. Gadgets like pepper spray, tasers, and gimmicky knuckle devices are pitched to those who are still too apprehensive about diving into the world of a concealed weapon permit. Self-defense classes and the like are largely marketed toward women who think they are getting valuable information on how to incapacitate unarmed assailants in a variety of situations. Unfortunately, the problem with all of these methods is that they are either tools or methods that rely on being very close to a potential assailant. The level of danger, and by extension, your ability to come out of a violent altercation safely is dramatically reduced by both the proximity to the assailant and the length of time the altercation takes to end. With a CCW, all that is required is basic know-how. What’s more is that practice only makes your chances of success greater, whereas the margin of error remains the same with non-lethal forms of self-defense like the ones mentioned above. The fact is, if you or someone else is about to be the victim of a violent crime, the absolute best thing you can do is carry a concealed weapons permit. Concealed Carry Helps Awareness Situational awareness in public is of the utmost importance whether concealed carrying or not. That being said, one of the most crucial aspects of concealed carry is a strong awareness of one's surroundings. Situational awareness is so important because a lack of awareness will result in a lack of preparedness against an oncoming threat. This will cost valuable time, and in extreme cases could result in a very dangerous disarm. Remaining aware is the first step to general safety in public. However, it does not get people out of every situation. Owning a CWP and a CCW and using them is entirely different. Fortunately, there are ways to mitigate the potential threat without utilizing lethal force against another person, which is all done through the very important development of situational awareness. Protect Your Family One of the most sacred duties of a parent is the preservation of the family, be that by working and supplying food, or by using lethal force against an armed assailant who has broken into your home. A concealed weapons permit is one of the best ways to do that, both on the road and in public where many crimes are capable of happening. Oftentimes, a concealed carry weapon is equally suitable for use in the home, with many handguns offering subcompact versions and higher calibers to incapacitate armed predators. Concealed Carry Gives Tactical Advantage While many people agree with the arguments made in favor of open carry, concealed carry provides a trump card that open carry never could: the element of surprise. You might be asking what kind of advantage this might give you, and fortunately, the answer is very simple. While many blankly assume that open carry provides a better deterrent from violent interactions, this is not entirely true, as the firearm itself becomes a target. Or you may even become a target because you have the firearm on your person. While it is still available for use in self-defense, you may yet still be attacked, especially if the assailant feels like they are going to succeed in disarming you. This rarely happens in instances of concealed carry because a permit holder might be attacked and has nothing to do with the weapon they are hiding in their hip. You might be surprised to find that you might feel a little safer concealed carrying over open carrying because of the spike in attention that normally comes with open carry. You are near a high-crime area Whether your commute takes you to the not-so-great part of town or your work is based in a high-crime area, owning a CCW may be the deciding factor between going home, or going to the hospital. That’s not a threat, but understanding that the threat of being in a high-crime area for an extended amount of time increases potential danger drastically is important. That being said, if you live in, work in, or travel through an area of high crime, a CCW and CWP will be the best options for mitigating potential threats. There are some tricks to picking out potential threats as they come in public. All successful self-defense altercations begin with situational awareness. The inability to be surprised, the detection of possible assailants before they reach your proximity, and the vigilance of standing your ground when the time comes are all important pieces to this fast-paced puzzle called self-defense. In this case, it is not just about owning a CWP, but gaining more knowledge on the area you live and work in, to better gauge threats that might be lingering around you. Getting a CWP is easy and affordable Despite the higher demand for them, CWP and LTC classes have remained ever so affordable. With accessibility over the internet becoming much more user-friendly and intuitive, people from all around can endeavor to take the journey toward defending their families and loved ones. What’s more is the value of concealed carry permits in other states, although research must be done to gauge which states share reciprocity with which CWP. The fact remains that for a typically decent price and a small fee for the fingerprint and signature, you can be an armed citizen standing your ground in the face of the abominable criminals that prey on the weak. It is Your Right to Carry For many, it is a responsibility to loved ones, the desire to protect one property, and the fear of becoming a victim that urges people to opt in for CWPs. However, some take their safety into their own hands because it is a right protected by the United States Constitution. In a world of countries whose people are not afforded the same right to keep and bear arms, as Americans, it is important to not only use that right but to preserve it for other generations to come. Conclusion Concealed carry has become a commonplace practice in the United States, making it more desirable for beginners to hop into. It is great for new gun owners to start as they will receive vital information about the general use of firearms while providing them with the ability to protect themselves and loved ones at home or in public. Owning a concealed weapons permit is the best option compared to other non-lethal forms of self-defense and makes for much better use of money than self-defense classes that do not utilize firearms training at all. Here at the Concealed Carry Academy, we take your right and ability to preserve and protect yourself and your loved ones very seriously. Providing class fees for both LTC and CCW purposes, we make sure that standing your ground against violent criminals is not only affordable but engaging and informative as well. Click here to take control of your safety now! Read the full article

[elusive-outhouse]

i think there's a lot of ways i've come up with and tried to convince myself i'm an evil person. i don't know a completely entirely precise exact point it comes from necessarily ; though i try and very well might. i can hypothesize, come up with ideas, and have leads raw as nerves to softly walk to and hold the cord as i trail back. 

but i feel i have to to counteract this, i feel like i have to try as much as possible and so i do. i want to radiate and spread good. i try to live through love and kindness, i try and do this in my daily life, i want to make people feel warm, and safe, to spread a smile. to feel a little bit more better or happy, to feel a little bit more loved and accepted. and welcomed and whole.

i feel often i hurt people the most by trying so hard to hurt them.  it's taught me very hard things, it's taught me the uncomfortable is inevitable, and avoidance makes it sting oh the so much more harder. to be more outright, to rip more band aids, really most often does the lesser damage. snappy instead of drawing it out over a long period of time. though i've had my errors there in imagining i am being condensed and outright, when i'm not heard as such. and extenuating circumstances made that worse, in ways where i can't take things so personally, though i've internalized them and added to the bank of proof i am very very evil. 

but i can't let those exceptions to deter me, i can keep trying and keep getting better and better;

honesty is important. communication is important. and i try my best. piece by piece, step by step, to put my whole soul's worth on the line every time i speak wether it's visible or not and it's taken so much practice to get to this point. and i falter and numb frequently and without my decision. it's ripped from my hands and i have to wave my hand around until i can grasp some sort of tag or corner to get it back. and i so want it to stay there. to become more and more vulnerable. and i'm oh so eager and earnest. i want to be a puppy dog that melts in your hands as i learn to trust again. or, maybe for the first time outside the paws of my mother.

but i feel like i am punished for being some sort of, inherently evil person. or i deserve to be punished for being some inherently evil person.  and that source of inherent evil is so ambiguous and hard to locate and hard to define.. i think a just general sense of, there is something wrong with me. there is something wrong with me and it is to the bones so it must be Bad. and that's like. autism. that's like, any other mental illness baggaged onto me by genes or family experience . any and all things that made me stand out or weird as a child, things that i tried to flatten to be so much more less difficult so i could be easier to be loved. i needed to be convenient. that's the only way it could work, i convinced myself, i am so inherently wrong and unlikeable the only way i may be liked is if i make it as easy as possible, to hopefully then make it to the other's baseline. to maybe then be considered as something next to worthy.

i feel i am convenient now, in different ways, of course. in the ways that have gone the opposite direction. in ways that have taken a loooooooot of work and healing, in acknowledging my efforts to be easy only made things much more harder. i'm looser, it turns out to be what others naturally go by, and somehow the thing that makes things actually work. it feels so obvious that it's hard to not feel stupid once you get there. and i've relapsed plenty of times and been chased by the trails of it, and so much of what i complain and contemplate now and what is so heavy and draining is that. but feel like i inch closer and closer to what it feels like to be plain in relationship with another. i'm not earning this by proving my usefulness and conditions i've met to consider myself deserving of love, to show and plea to you to maybe consider me worthy of love, to advertise and somehow trick you into buying. i'm now not fulfilling a role or a purpose, i'm not intrested in you fulfilling a role or purpose, we're just meeting in happenstance. a middle. it mutual enjoyment of company. which is so strange. and calm and so weird and so refreshing and unknown. 

so, i'm bound to worry, even though i've learned so much, and i feel the difference, that still- subconsciously, i know I'm still likely walking down familiar pathways. out of habit, out of autopilot. it's not really my fault, and i can't feel too bad or blame myself too harshly. it's very human. they've been deeply treaded out in the dirt and are ritual as i walk myself out of the house or home. to cut through a different chunk of grass, to take a completely different route, i try and step my foot out but all of the sudden my vision has gone black. i'm not sure if i'm on the path or not but every once in a while my shoe kicks a side of the wall of the road i am so familiar i have erosioned. and i know i can hop away and out of it i know it's possible but my body won't trust my brain my brain won't trust my body to not eat shit as i try and step over that ledge. it's a paralysis i argue with the entire time as it freezes me.

but. i get it sometimes. and that can be wow. incredibly hopeful. and i need to hold onto that and not let the supposed "failures" i blame on myself to not overpower them. 

 how am i letting that anxiety deep into my bones to kill me? so it at least gives me the autonomy, the power the authority to kill myself instead of another holding the dagger? the only way i've made it this far is by taking things into my own hands and it's difficult and terrifying letting that up. but, it's new. it's what is needed. i stunt myself and my growth by not giving it a shot. i've proven the other stuff doesn't work for the lengths i want it to. i cannot be loved with defenses so tall, and trying to map out every escape route. tied in conjunction with a desperation for it to be the time and everything to make it for it all. to rush in and fill the void of the deep loneliness and empty of my entire life prior.

all is a process, all is an unwinding. rome wasn't built in a day; etc, etc. 

i just have such sweetness and niceness going right now; i don't want the source of spoil to be my discomfort at having nice things, running dizzy in circles to find some source of conflict to have my tail and back hair raised to. fight or flight is a bitch and has me by the throat more than i'd like to admit.

and it's impossible to not get hurt. and in many ways i'm expecting and bracing for a very  visible and inevitable bump if not halt altogether. and i cant take things personally. and i know this and i've known this and to not know this and live through it is to betray so much i stand by. to project things i don't think, or rather, know, to be true. so to know, that does make a difference. but as i soften it is very hard to do so selectively; i'm going to get more tender and therefore it's going to sting. it's going to hurt. and thats a way to know that i'm alive. and i don't want to jerk off to it or romanticize it so heavily as i've done before, to get pleasure in pain in life to get through things. and because that went so sharply soured and euch food poisoning it's given me a taste aversion, i'm doubly as scared of going any sort of back. but it's possible, and i can remind myself that. i can survive hard things, i'm upright. i'm living proof even if that confidence hasn't been integrated in my mind or soul, my body stands living. and that in so many ways, is proof enough for the others, a very firm and inarguable manifestation however quiet and however much i try and dismiss out of shame that it's not more.

 i don't want to linger on fears of the future. i don't want fears of the past to keep me from the present. lingering and premonitioning is cycling and self fulfilling behavior. your brain will be stuck there so of course there is no other route. if you have not imagined one, if you convince yourself you cannot imagine one, what else are you to do? you will follow what is in sight. 

so try to wipe the slate clean. grab yourself by the temples and shake and etcha sketch your brain clean. i've been visualizing that a lot amongst other similar scenarios. holding myself by the temples and telling myself to shut up when i notice myself in my stiff and muted anxious spirals. it works 50/50. perhaps a sweeter tone of voice might prove for some better results. perhaps that's a small first step to be taken to walk myself into softer grasses.

kindness is so much harder than self hatred and pity. you are strong and know yourself and know yourself to be cool. and hardworking and compassionate and those tools are just as helpful to you as they are when you turn them to others. 

much love and let it radiate from your heart to the tips of your skin

wrote beautiful and long diary entry that i feel is of the strain where i feel genuinely helped n validated and understood when i hear other people share reflections of personal understanding n experience in the same way. evil mobile app tumblr is evil and hates me and does not allow copy paste and so i guess this is the universe telling me to keep my cards those to my chest even though the whole point is me stepping out of that instinct and seeing such such such such the undeniable importance and continual learning in that

[alwaysmarveling]

Too Late

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: None, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: In an effort to be the best girlfriend, Wanda holds in a major secret until it’s a little too late

A/N: I may have gotten a bit carried away, but Wanda is the cutest thing ever so enjoy! Also I’m now realizing this sounds angsty but I promise it’s just fluff :)

“Milaya, I’m so excited! We’re actually going! Just think, in less than an hour, we’ll be there!” You couldn’t help but laugh along with your girlfriend, who was practically bouncing off of the walls in excitement. 

“Wan, we won’t be there in an hour if you don’t hurry up and eat your breakfast. C’mon, before we get yelled at.” She let you pull her into the chair next to you and reluctantly scooped up some of the eggs she had cooked onto her fork.

“Do you think the lines will be long? I really hope not, I want to try to go on all of the rides. Which ones did you say were the best again?” Your eyes widened as you swallowed, wiggling slightly in your chair.

“I really like the big roller coaster they have. It goes insanely fast and has one of the biggest drops I’ve ever seen-” You stopped yourself when you remembered that you were supposed to have been done with breakfast twenty minutes ago. “Baby, let’s finish breakfast first. We’ll discuss this in the car, okay? I promise,” you added when she pouted at you.

“Alright, but I’m holding you to it.” The two of you ate in silence, both of you trying to shovel the food down your throats as quickly as possible. As you guys finished up, Clint ran into the room, his arms full of towels.

“There you guys are! Hurry up, we’re leaving! Also, have you seen the big tote bags anywhere?”

“I saw them in the closet a few days ago,” you answered, your mouth stuffed with food as you pointed to a door in the hallway. You shook your head as you watched him dash over to the door. Laura was definitely starting to rub off on him; he was becoming a full-blown mama bear. The two of you now done eating, you grabbed the empty plates to put in the sink while your girlfriend followed closely behind you, eager to return to your earlier conversation.

“Babe, we have to go on the ferris wheel! It’ll be so romantic. Maybe at night, you know, the last thing before we leave?” Her arms slid around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. “Oh, do you think we’ll have time to play those games? I’ve always wanted to win one of the little stuffed animals. Do you think I could win you one?” You brought your now empty hands down to lay against your girlfriend’s and leaned back slightly, enjoying her touch.

“Love, slow down. You keep talking that fast and you’ll pass out from the lack of oxygen. And of course we’ll have time to play the games, but we should get to the car before someone else comes to rush us.” With that, you pulled her out of the room before she could resume bombarding you with more questions.

---

After a forty-five minute car ride with a very enthusiastic Wanda and Peter—you were convinced Nat was going to let go of the wheel and throttle both of them if it lasted even a second longer—you’d arrived at the park.

“Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked, looking around for the other cars.

“I’m sure they’re here somewhere.” Before the witch could wander off to look for them, you grabbed onto her arm.

“Actually, I just texted Steve and Rhodey and they’re still ten minutes away.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Well, uh, Nat did drive a bit…” You bit your lip, afraid of offending the still-annoyed redhead.

“You know exactly why I did it, Y/N.”

“Huh? I don’t get it. Why’d she do it, Miss L/N?”

“Um, nothing, Peter. She was just excited to get here,” you explained, stifling a giggle. You did know exactly why she did it, but Wanda and Peter might not enjoy the explanation that she was trying to get away from them as quickly as possible.

“You think we can go in first and have them meet us there? I just wanna look around.” Wanda flashed you her puppy dog eyes, complete with the wobbling bottom lip, knowing that you would choose to wait for them in the parking lot if it were up to you. 

“Yes. Please.” The former assassin looked like she was about to go back to her previous job as she pushed off from her spot against the car. Knowing better than to make things worse, you nodded, allowing Wanda and Peter to leave the way.

“I’m sorry about them,” you whispered to Nat, the pair now walking out of earshot from you.

“Don’t worry about it,” she glanced in their direction before continuing, “It’s actually pretty cute.” Nat smirked at the shock on your face. “Don’t you dare tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“That’s why you looked pissed out of your mind? For your reputation?”

“Please, we both know Stark would never let me live it down if I acted the same way they did.”

“You’re insane,” you laughed, but she had a point. “You have any plans for what you wanna do today?” The redhead shrugged.

“I’ll probably go with Sam and Bucky on the thrill rides. That might get a little annoying, but it’s not like Steve’s going to come with me, the big wimp. Or maybe I can convince Pepper to leave Morgan with Tony and we could do something together.”

“You could always come with Wanda and I.”

“Eh, don’t wanna get in the way of you two lovebirds. And as cute as you guys are, I don’t need to see you guys kissing every two seconds.”

“We- we don’t do that!” you stammered, your face heating up.

“Dorogaya, come here! I wanna take a picture in front of the big sign of me kissing you on the cheek! Nat, can you take it for us?”

“You were saying?” Nat smirked, crossing her arms when you caught up to Peter and Wanda.

“Bad timing,” you grumbled, but you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Wanda bouncing on her toes, her hands clasped together in front of her chest.

“Bad timing my ass,” your friend mumbled. Before you could shoot some retort back at her, she held up the phone. “Alright, say ‘Nat’s always right!’” You settled for internally rolling your eyes at her as she took the photo, giving Wanda a kiss after the photo was taken.

“I love you,” the witch reminded you.

“I love you too. You ready for some fun?” Knowing the answer to that question, you slipped your hand in hers and began walking towards the entrance. You used your other hand for something else just as important: flipping Natasha off.

“Miss Romanoff, what’d you do?”

“Shut it, Peter,” the redhead warned him. Even though her tone was playful, you laughed as you heard Peter take a large gulp.

“Yes, ma’am.”

---

“Okay, so I was thinking we start- ahh!” If Wanda wasn’t still holding on to your hand, you would’ve completely fallen on your face when she tugged you off to the side. “Wands, what the heck was that?”

“Look, babe! It’s those game things! C’mon, I’ve gotta win you one.” You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing and let her tug you over to the water gun game, most of the Avengers following behind you.

“Oh, you bet I’m getting in this,” Sam chuckled, rubbing his hands together before handing the attendant a crisp dollar bill. Bucky rolled his eyes but nonetheless produced a similar bill from his pocket.

“Babe, you gonna play?” You shook your head.

“I’d much rather watch you. Besides, if I play, you know those boys are gonna be some sore losers, and I don’t need to deal with that.” Wanda laughed, giving you a kiss on the cheek before she joined Sam and Bucky.

“Alright, but if I lose we need to go to another game because I need to win you something.”

“Wan, you don’t have to win me anything. We’re just here to have fun, yeah?” But your girlfriend paid no attention to you. She wrapped her hands around the handles of the gun, and her eyes narrowed as she focused on the target.

“For fun, eh?” Nat chuckled as you elbowed her.

“Shut up, she’s cute. And she means well.”

“Mhm… whipped.” As you leaned over to respond to Natasha, Sam jumped up in between you two. His arms were held up high above his head as he fist-pumped the air repeatedly.

“Take that, you two!”

“And which prize would you like, sir?” The attendant asked, their eyelids hooded and voice monotone. Obviously Sam’s excitement was not contagious. You stayed just long enough to see Sam point to a stuffed duck—”Redwing needs a friend! I’ll call him Yellowing.”—before Wanda was pulling you off to another game booth.

“C’mon, I can feel it, I got this one!” You looked hesitantly at the small pyramid of stacked milk bottles.

“Wands, I know this is your first time at an amusement park but, like, these games are usually rig-”

“Hi, I’ll take 5 rounds please.” Your eyes grew wide as you watched Wanda hand a five-dollar bill to the attendant, who handed her a bucket of fifteen balls in return.

“Wanda, these prizes are cheap, we can just-”

“Babe, I love you, but be quiet. I’m going to win you this. You like that one, right?” You followed her gaze to the stuffed dinosaur wearing a party hat and then to the sign immediately below it that stated that it was a “top-tier” prize. In other words, Wanda would have to knock down the entire pyramid of milk bottles to win.

“It’s cute, love, but-”

“Great, I’m getting it.” And with that, you sighed, crossing your arms across your chest. You knew Wanda wasn’t going to let you deter her from her goal no matter what you said, so you might as well support her.

“Alright. For good luck,” you winked before kissing her. Wanda flashed you a small grateful smile in return before turning to the bucket in front of her. You watched as her hand dipped into the bucket, pulling out a ball that she then let roll around in her palm for a moment. She grabbed her lip between her teeth, and before you could blink, she chucked it at the milk bottles. At this point, all of the Avengers had moved on to find you guys, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed their astonished faces behind her. She hadn’t even knocked over any of the milk bottles—they must’ve been secured well—but, with her not being a super soldier or highly trained assassin, sometimes you guys forgot just how strong she was.

Unlike you, Wanda didn’t notice her teammates staring at her, and they didn’t make a peep, so she simply picked up the next ball and threw that one too. This time, she managed to knock one bottle down, but somehow the rest of the pyramid remained largely unaffected.

“I don’t understand why this isn’t doing more,” Wanda frowned, talking more to herself than anything. “If I was in training and these were daggers, the dummy would totally be on the ground by now.”

“You’re doing great, Wands. Besides, you still have 13 more tries. You can do it!” She turned to you, giving you a chance to admire the sparkle in her eyes.

“Thanks, printsessa. I’ll get you that dinosaur. You got a name for them yet?”

“Mm, no. Too busy being distracted by a beautiful, super badass woman.” Wanda laughed and pushed you away gently.

“Start thinking about it now.”

---

“Wanda, maybe we should call it a day…” Clint trailed off gently once Wanda had finished off the entire bucket without knocking down the pyramid. You watched as Wanda’s chest rose and fell a bit faster than usual.

“No,” she gritted out. “I’m winning that stupid dinosaur. Besides, I’ve only spent $6 so far. I’ll just do it one more time.” Getting three more balls in exchange for one dollar, Wanda clenched her jaw as she threw the ball at the pyramid. The milk bottles wobbled but didn’t fall. She tried a second—or technically seventeenth time—and they still stood firmly on the platform. Finally, with one hasty look at the attendant, who was distracted by a screaming kid nearby, you watched as her eyes flashed red as she threw the final ball, the rest of the tower immediately tumbling down upon contact with the ball. The attendant’s eyes went wide at the clatter before he grinned.

“Huh, I guess the Avengers really can do anything, can’t they? That’s the first time someone’s gotten the whole thing down in months. Alright, which one do you want?”

---

“Wanda, I thought we agreed to not using powers for stuff that’s not important,” Steve chastised your beaming girlfriend once you guys had walked out of earshot of the worker.

“But Y/N is important. She’s the most important thing in the world!” It took everything in you to not combust on the spot at your girlfriend’s words and the accompanying hand squeeze she’d given you when she said them. Steve simply sighed, rolling his eyes.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Oh, relax, old man,” Clint butted in. “They’re in love. Let them have this.” With the matter settled, Wanda turned to look at you.

“So, what’s the dinosaur’s name?”

“Huh?” You glanced down at the green plush in the hand that wasn’t holding Wanda’s. “Oh, um, Dino.” Wanda’s lips slowly flattened out before pursing together.

“Y/N. You had all that time to think of a good name, and you choose ‘Dino’? Babe, even Yellowing is a better name. I mean, like, not well thought-out at all, sounds more like it’s becoming yellow than having yellow wings, but at least the sentiment is there.”

“I like Dino!” You gave her a big grin as you tried to hold your laughter back. She wasn’t actually mad, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy riling up your girlfriend at least a little bit. Before Wanda could respond, you were both pulled off to another side of the amusement park.

“C’mon, lovebirds, we’re going on the big roller coaster!”

“Alright, alright, calm down, Sammy,” you laughed, patting his hand that steered you toward the ride.

---

Luckily for you guys, Tony had splurged on fastpasses for all of you so that you wouldn’t have to wait in any ride lines. Bucky practically jumped with glee as you walked past all the other visitors. Sweat trickled down their faces; some tried in vain to fan themselves with the maps that were handed out at the park entrance, and others leaned against the railing forming the line. Some of them must’ve been waiting for at least two and a half hours.

“Hey, Tin Man, try not to laugh so hard at other people’s suffering, will ya? Not all of them have the benefit of having a very rich, very generous friend, speaking of whom, never got a thank you by the way.” Bucky simply rolled his eyes at Tony’s remark and got in line to sit with Sam.

“You ready, babe? Your first amusement park ride ever.” You squeezed Wanda’s hand gently, giving her a smile that she couldn’t help but return. You had to speak loudly in order for her to hear you over all the noise on the crowded platform, but the distractions all seemed to fade away as you focused on the twinkle in her eyes and the way her cheeks rose as she grinned.

“And the biggest one at the park.”

“And the biggest one,” you nodded.

“I’ve been ready for this all day. Hands up, right?”

“If you think you can handle it,” you winked.

“Of course I can handle it,” the witch scoffed. With that, you guys shuffled into the carts. Wanda’s knee brushed against yours as the two of you sat down and she quickly buckled herself in before turning to you. Her lips were already parted, ready to share her excitement some more, before she noticed your furrowed brows and your tongue sticking out of your mouth like you did when you were immersed in mission reports. Except this time, you were simply trying to get the belt in the buckle.

“Need some help, love?” Wanda giggled.

“It’s not working!” Your girlfriend gave you a gentle smile before taking the belt from you and sliding it into the buckle.

“There.” She brought your hand up to her lips next, looking up at you through her lashes before pressing soft kisses onto your knuckles. “Don’t wanna hurt these, yeah? Tasha would be furious.”

“Yeah, she would,” Natasha interrupted from the cart behind you. “But I thought I taught you well enough to be able to buckle yourself in, Y/N.” You felt her smirk more than you saw it, and without a full glance back at her, you brought your hand up to her forehead and flicked her before she could react.

“Taught by the best,” you laughed, lurching forward so Natasha couldn’t grab you.

“Oh, just you wait for training tomorrow,” the redhead chuckled. You didn’t pay any further attention to her as you listened to the employee telling you to push the safety bar down. Just as the carts started to move, you called Wanda’s name and gave her a quick peck on the nose before she realized what was happening. She settled for a retaliatory poke to your side, and after your giggles died down, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined and laying on the safety bar. You quickly became busy with looking out over the side of the cart, watching as all of the things that once met your eye level shrunk down to a size that was half of your pinky finger. But a harder-than-normal squeeze of your hand had you returning your focus to Wanda.

“Um, detka, is this a bad time to tell you that I’m afraid of heights?” Your heart, calm less than two seconds ago, immediately began to race. You looked ahead through your wide eyes to see that you were near the top before quickly turning back to the panicking brunette who, sure enough, had her eyes glued shut.

“Wh- what do you mean you’re afraid of heights? You literally fly!”

“Because I’m more afraid of bad guys than I am of heights!” You could feel the coaster practically slowing to a stop as you rounded the peak of the coaster.

“Okay, uh, um, just pretend there’s a bad guy? I don’t know, Wan, it’s a little late to get o-” And with that, you rocketed down towards the ground. All blood flowing to your hand was stopped in its tracks as Wanda squeezed you as hard as she could, but you barely noticed since you were forced to focus on your race to the ground instead. A scream slipped past your lips for a second, quickly becoming a laugh that you couldn’t contain no matter how hard you tried. “Isn’t this great, Wan?” 

A slight turn of your head told you that, no, it was not great for Wan. Her eyes were still glued shut, her lips were pursed together so firmly they were practically white, and you could just make out the trembling of her torso. At this point, you almost couldn’t feel your left hand from how hard she was holding it, and you imagined that if the safety bar were alive, it would be feeling the same way from her left hand’s grip on it. So, even though you were moving at over 100 miles an hour, it was your turn to press your lips to the back of her hand. It was a small gesture of reassurance, but a gesture that Wanda appreciated nonetheless, especially considering there wasn’t much else you could do under the circumstances. 

You were just approaching the bottom of the first hill when Wanda’s eyes shot open, taking in your gleeful face, which contrasted heavily with her own terror-filled expression.

“Is it ov-” She didn’t finish her question before her face practically closed up, but she didn’t need to finish asking it anyway. The rushing of blood to her head told her all she needed to—she was going upside down, and it certainly wasn’t over yet.

---

After what seemed like a lifetime to her and a mere five seconds to you, the ride was over, and Wanda made sure she was the first one off of it. With her feet back on solid ground, she seemed much more relaxed, but you didn’t miss the way her knees wobbled with every step she took. You linked your hand in hers once again and pulled her off to the side of the group.

“Wan, why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of heights?”

“You looked so excited talking about the ride this morning, and I didn’t want to ruin it. And we’re a couple. Everything you love, I want to love too.”

“Well did you love it?” If you weren’t holding her hand, you would’ve crossed your arms to accompany the signature raised brow you gave her in situations like these.

“No, but I loved holding your hand,” the Sokovian admitted as she kicked the ground with her boot. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before responding.

“Wan, you are the absolute sweetest, but, please, I don’t want to put you through anything you’re scared of. Especially if it’s not for a good reason.”

“But you’re the best reason I could ever have to do anything.” And just like that, your face felt hot enough to cook an egg on. Seeing the pout on her face, though, you quickly regained your bearings.

“Alright, you’re not allowed to be sweet anymore. My turn. Wan, I’m excited about anything I get to do with you.”

“That’s not what you were saying when I asked you to clean the kitchen with me yesterday,” Wanda grumbled, looking down at her scuffed black combat boots.

“Okay, you got me there,” you admitted, leaning over slightly to meet her soft green eyes before continuing. “In my defense, cleaning is an inherently boring thing. Amusement parks are inherently fun. So when we’re here, we only do things that are fun. Which means, if you’re scared of heights, we don’t go on stuff with heights. Like the biggest freaking roller coaster this park has.”

“Are you sure?” the witch mumbled. “I know you like those rides.”

“I’m positive.” You met her lips with yours as one last reassurance. “Now, let’s go find those tea cups. And yes,” you smiled, not even having to look over at her to know what she was thinking, “You can still hold my hand.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Demon Bros Play DND!

Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?

So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.

Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM

He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.

Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.

Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.

He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.

Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.

“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”

He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.

Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker

In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.

Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)

This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!

Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-

Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.

He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!

He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.

Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?

“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”

Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.

“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”

He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.

Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.

He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.

Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...

“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”

If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.

Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)

His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!

He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.

Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.

While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.

His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”

Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.

“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”

Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.

Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.

Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-

Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.

The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)

So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?

It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.

When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.

He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.

As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.

Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!

He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.

Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.

As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.

He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!

His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!

Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.

Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.

“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”

I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)

At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.

When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.

Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.

“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”

Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!

Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.

When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!

Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.

He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.

His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.

‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’

Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!

Please help him, MC...

*Dice Cronch* (Beel)

Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...

Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D

Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:

“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”

I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.

While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.

He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.

Murder Hobo (Belphie)

Chaotic evil.

“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”

If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.

He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.

Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.

He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.

Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.

Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.

“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”

Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)

Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.

Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.

Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!

He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!

Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.

Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 4

Parings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, this one gets a little spicy y’all, descriptions of sexual acts, hints of abuse (please let me know if i’ve missed any)

Word Count: 14.8K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened be be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: well, you guys wanted it all in one post! this is by far the longest chapter, yet, and possibly the longest chapter in the entire fic maybe? i’ve caught myself up now with the progress of writing, since i’ve only completed one part of the next chapter so chapter 5 won’t be out within the next three days like these last four have been. i’m thinking i’ll need maybe a week? not sure, but the next part has a little flashback section which i hope you’ll all enjoy!

god these a/n’s are really long aren’t they? asdfghjkl sorry i’ll make the cut off now. hope you enjoy!!!

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Whether it had been thirty minutes or thirty years, you couldn’t tell. Struggling to stay conscious as the four soldiers brought your limp body back to your cell. Your legs no longer work, gathering dust as they drag across the ground. Your abdomen and back were on fire. You were convinced. They had simply thrown you into hell to cook for a bit before dragging you back out. There was no other explanation. Other than the countless, seemingly endless beatings you had just taken. Whether your legs were tired or if your spine was broken, you couldn’t tell as they tossed you back behind bars, removing the rope around your wrists. You didn’t have the strength to fight back. Didn’t have the strength to even raise your head as they left.

Broken, split ribs sent agonising jolts of pain as you shifted in a lame attempt to curl up into a ball. You hadn’t cracked like they’d wanted you to. You hadn’t screamed, cried, begged them to stop. And you wouldn’t. When they came back for you, you would hold your tongue once again. You had never broken in the past. Whether you’d been compromised during an assault on a rival gang, or whether it was one of your mentor’s training exercises to get you used to torture. You had never broken.

You weren’t about to start now.

Still, the throbbing in your body prevented you from sleeping. You didn’t know what time it was. Time had escaped you during that ordeal. You didn’t even know what time of day it was, pretty sure it was night when they had come for you.

Fuck, your body ached. But you knew comfort was a long way from here. It always seemed so far away from where you were. Did you ever have comfort?

You lay there for god knows how long, seconds turning to minutes, minutes to hours. Hours could have turned to days for all you knew.

When the now familiar echo of footsteps reached your ears, you didn’t move. You didn’t care. Whoever it was could rot in hell for all you cared. Wishing death upon these fucking soldiers was the only thing keeping you from giving up right now.

“The bed not good enough or something?” Levi. Shit. The one person you didn’t want to see you like this.

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to try and count as many marks on the wall as you could. It helped to keep your focus off the dull throbbing coursing through your body.

“Oi, ‘you seriously still asleep? It's almost midday,” the singing of metal caused you to wince slightly as he rapped on the bars in an attempt to wake you from a sleep you weren’t in.

“Get the fuck u—” You had a vague idea what caused him to stop his impending barrage of insults you knew were about to flutter effortlessly from his mouth, and you couldn’t tell if you were thankful or not. On the upside, you didn’t have to hear whatever colourful language he was about to spew. On the downside…

“What happened to you…?” it was the second time he’d asked that question, but from the tone of his voice, you could tell this was less a passing thought and more of a question prompted by horror.

Levi froze. His breath caught in his throat. He had expected you to be awake by now. To be up, with that crooked, cocky smile on your face. In fact, he’d half expected you to be leaning against the wall, the door flung wide open as you twirled the keychain around your finger, simply begging him to ask you how you’d done it.

The last thing he expected to see was you, on the floor, curled into a ball. The shirt on your lower back riding up enough for him to see violent, deep purple bruises, blood steadily streaming from your spine and lower back.

Still you refused to answer, or even move. Filthy fucking soldiers, you fucking hated every last one of them. How fucking dare they? How dare they string you up like a piece of drying meat. They had no idea what you’d been through. What you’d had to do to survive. How dare they assume.

And yet,

And yet there was still that little voice in your head. That little kernel of doubt, convincing you that you deserved this. You had killed so many. So much blood was on your hands.

You deserved this.

You didn’t even notice Levi had entered your cell until a hand rested upon your shoulder.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” your reaction was instant. Instinctual. Immediately wrenching out of his hand, throwing yourself forward. A yelp escaped your mouth without your permission, fire igniting in your body as you moved so suddenly. It caused you to falter in your movements, landing harshly on your side. “Shit!” your voice broke as you yelped, agony flaring in your entire midsection, hand flying to clutch your side as you backed up against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no conviction in your voice. It was more of a plea than anything. If you had raised your head to look at him, maybe you would have laughed at his expression of twisted shock.

But instead you let your hair fall in front of your face, masking your own expression. Teeth grit in silent pain, eyes screwed shut.

Levi’s worry turned to outright unsettling fear. Over the last two days, he’s witnessed you more broken than he’s ever seen you before. He remembered sitting up with you after you’d woken from one of your nightmares. The two of you sitting on the floor against the wall, sharing a cup of tea to not waste resources. He’d seen you angry. He’d seen you upset. But he’d never seen you shattered.

“(Y/N)...” you’d forgotten how soft his usual bored voice could sound. Even after yesterday, you hadn’t heard that tone from him in years. It was borderline unnatural.

It prompted you to raise your head ever so slightly, glaring at him through thick, matted (H/C) strands. You refused to let your guard down, even though the sight of him squatting before you, eyebrows gently creased with suppressed worry almost made you relax. But you weren’t about to be taken away and tortured again.

Any scrap of trust that may have manifested yesterday during the carriage ride and your conversation had been crushed.

“Get away from me,” you looked feral, bearing your teeth animalistically as you snarled. Though it didn’t seem to deter him. He knew a dog only bared its teeth when it was wounded, fearing to be hurt further.

Levi sighed through his nose as he stood. You flinched at his movement and watched as he made more of a conscious effort not to startle you. Your eyes squinted in suspicious confusion as he took a small cloth from his pocket and started running it under the tap.

It seemed the faucet did work. Good to know.

Returning to squat in front of you, his eyes flickered from your face to your abdomen.

“Show me,” he instructed gently, and you almost obeyed him. Almost.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat instead, bringing your knees closer to your aching body. If you hadn’t been trained to withstand pain, you would have cried out as your abdomen begged you to stop constricting your muscles.

“I’m trying to help,” your ears caught the slight irritation in his tone, but you didn’t care. He could kick you for all you care.

Actually, you really didn’t want him to do that.

“I don’t want your help,”

“You need it.”

“Burn in hell, Levi,” it was the first time you’d actually used his name since you said it back when they first apprehended you, and Levi couldn’t deny that it cut deep. A sentiment he masked with a frustrated exhale. Clearly he’d expected resistance. Either that or he was just as tenacious as he used to be.

“Well, I'm definitely not going up,” he responded, that same softness in his tone and despite your situation, you couldn’t help the slight huff of amusement. It seemed to put him at ease too, content you weren’t about to lunge for his throat.

Slowly, you uncurled from your position, visibly wincing as your torn, beaten muscles relaxed. Levi took this as permission to inch closer and you felt a small appreciation for his trepidation.

Still, you couldn’t help but flinch every time he moved too fast. A simple reflex stemming from your training. It wasn’t really something you thought about, but it prompted the raven haired man to freeze every time you moved.

You refused to meet his eyes as he gently lifted the fabric of your shirt, hearing his breath hitch slightly.

“Holy shit…” He breathed. You hadn’t seen how bad your body was damaged, but judging by his reaction;

It sure as hell wasn’t good.

Levi felt he could kill someone. Actually, a lot of someones. Shit, when he finds out who was responsible for this he would make sure they wished they were never born. The same rage he felt when seeing you flinch for the first time once again coursed through his veins, and this time, he didn’t think he could just let it simmer.

“Who did this to you?” you blinked, his question caught you off guard. Didn’t he know? How didn’t he know? Surely every soldier in the damn military would revel in the idea of you being tortured all night. You clenched your jaw, refusing to respond. You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. Maybe it was the sheer principle of not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him.

In fact, now you thought about it, it was definitely that. Whether Levi sensed it or not, he chose not to press you for an answer. Perhaps he did already know.

You hissed as the cold, damp cloth gently soothed your inflamed skin, glancing back to his face. You hated the way his focussed expression calmed your heart. Loathed how that crease in his eyebrows eased your whirling thoughts. Despised how, from this angle, you could see just how annoyingly attractive he had become.

“Can you move?” he asked, silver eyes rising up to meet your own. The low torchlight highlighted the heus of deep blue you knew he had hidden away. You pretended you looked away because you couldn’t stand the sight of his face, rather than the reality.

You were far too tempted to lean up and capture his lips.

“Yes,” Levi couldn’t tell if you were lying, shifting slightly to help you move but stopping immediately when you flinched away.

“Lie on the bed,” for the first time in ten years, you were compelled to follow an order. You weren’t even obedient towards Viper most of the time. But nonetheless, you found yourself struggling to your feet, an arm braced on the wall behind you.

Clearly respecting your independence, Levi took a step back, allowing you to find your own way. If you weren’t slightly delirious from the pain, you would have missed a kernel of respect flashing in his expression, before he swiftly turned away, washing the cloth again as you collapsed onto the so-called ‘mattress’ with a hiss.

Levi rung the small cloth out onto the floor, focussing on the way the droplets collided with the stone, rather than the way every movement you made caused you obvious pain. Once again, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to cradle you in his arms and whisper soft nothings into your ear. He wanted you to fall asleep next to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He craved to feel your soft hair through his fingertips, gently coercing you into dreams. It hurt so much that he could see you, but he couldn’t have you.

Turning to face away from him, you once again shrivelled into a ball. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this. You just wanted to be left alone. But the dip in the bed behind you told you that wasn’t an option right now, muscles tensing on instinct.

he didn’t ask for permission this time as gentle fingers gripped your shirt, dragging up to reveal your brutalised back. If you could see his expression, you might have even been afraid. Darkness shrouded his face, teeth grit in utter hatred. A muscle in his jaw twitching from the effort of clamping his mouth so tightly.

His first touch felt like you’d been shocked by the static that built up on the bed clothes. The damp cool gliding across the welts and bruises across your back. Balling your hands into fists, you refused to make any sound. Still having the mindset of not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing you in pain. It was a mindset you didn’t think would leave you for a while.

Levi worked in silence, allowing you to settle and almost relax after a while. You wanted to trust him, but you didn’t. Not really. However, right now, you trusted him not to hurt you further. Simply content to relish in the way he soothed the pain. It didn’t come naturally. Every time he pressed too hard it took all your strength not to lunge for his throat, but he would stop upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, waiting for you to settle before continuing.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, you finally broke it with a question that had been budding in your mind.

“Why are you doing this?” your voice came out a rasped whisper, almost as if you hadn’t used your vocal chords for weeks. You were sure he wasn’t going to answer, opting instead to simply continue to clean your bruises. Another blanket of quiet had settled over the two of you before he responded.

“I don’t know,” he lied. Levi wasn’t sure why he lied. Honestly, he thought it was obvious enough. He still cared about you. So fucking much. It burned him to see you in so much pain. He’d never felt the mind numbing fury he felt when he saw what they’d done to you.

You weren’t really happy with the answer. If anything, it simply gave you more questions. But you were too tired to press for more. Almost too tired to notice when he’d stopped. Pulling your grimy shirt back down to your waist, you felt the mattress rise as he stood. You didn’t turn. You couldn’t turn. After the night you’d had, the exhaustion from the last 24 hours finally catching up on you.

Noticing how you were almost already asleep, Levi decided to throw caution to the wind.

You felt a soft caress through your dirt ridden hair, the action sending a pleasant buzz through your system. It was an action so familiar to the both of you, you wondered why you kept flinching away from his touch when all it did was gently drain you of energy.

“Sleep.”

You didn’t have time to contemplate his tone before the comforting nothingness claimed you.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi hadn’t been this angry in a long, long time. Sure, he’d been annoyed. When a solider made a stupid mistake or when a cadet didn’t know how to clean properly. But he hadn’t been this furious in years.

Maybe since the deaths of Isobel and Farlan.

It was obvious when Levi was in a bad mood. Sweeping through the headquarters like a storm. Cadets could almost feel his presence before they saw him, swiftly making themselves busy as he paid no attention to any of them. He had one goal in mind. One destination. And he didn’t even knock when he got there.

“Out. Now.” it wasn’t an order to disobey. When he opened the door to Erwin’s office, revealing a small meeting, Levi didn’t think twice to dismiss them, even if they were his superiors.

“Levi, what’s—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll all leave the room for the next half an hour. Maybe longer depending on how this conversation goes,” his swirling eyes met Erwin’s and he swore he could detect the slightest fear in the man’s gaze.

Good.

He should be afraid.

Without so much as a mutter of goodbyes, the squad leaders and section commanders all dispersed, leaving the Captain alone with the Commander.

Erwin was the first to break the heavy silence.

“I’m assuming this is about Raven?” his voice didn’t waver, seeming to have regained his composure from the initial shock. But Levi wasn’t here for a dainty conversation. The unbridled rage pulsing through his bloodstream clouded his vision, almost seeing red.

“Did you know?”

“Levi—”

“Did. You. Know?” Levi hardly ever raised his voice. Usually it was only out in the field or on a mission, and that was only because it was easier to communicate that way. Keeping his bored, flat tones when slicing open the nape of a titan didn’t seem possible.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep, defeated sigh.

“Yes. I knew. But Levi, you have to understand—”

“I don’t have to understand jackshit. Don’t you think she’s been through enough? She’s led a life being treated like an animal and now you’re allowing her to be beaten like one?”

“It’s necessary, Levi.”

“It’s barbaric!” Erwin had never heard such venom in his voice. Not even when he vowed to kill him all those years ago. He’d seen Levi’s rage. Witnessed it from afar. The way he tore through flesh like it was paper.

Never did he think he would be on the receiving end. Leaning forward, the blonde folded his arms against the desk, clearly conflicted.

“I know this is a difficult subject for you. You two grew up in the same environment, it would only be natural for you to care for her,” the conniving bastard. Levi borderline snarled at the statement. He did care for you. Deeply. But Erwin didn’t need to know that.

“But please listen. As I mentioned before, ties between the Military Police and the Survey Corps are taut. Any discord between us would cause them to snap. I already tightened them further by not allowing them to execute her publicly. I thought if she joined the Scouts instead, not only would we gain an asset, but she would also be able to survive. That didn’t sit well with Niles. He wants her to pay for what she’s done. If not by death, then by various other methods. This was the only way to keep both parties happy, Levi. Trust me,” Levi was starting to lose what trust he had in the man.

Whilst yes, his explanation made sense, it still didn’t sweeten the blow. How long would this go on for? Would they take you everyday, or just some days? How badly would they hurt you?

As if able to read his mind through his knife-like glare, Erwin continued.

“It’s only for this week. Whilst she’s in her cell. They don’t have permission to permanently damage her, only—”

“Only break her ribs and crack her sternum. Yeah, I saw,” he responded bitterly, folding his arms as he leant against the door. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck them.

Levi had never been so conflicted. Whilst the sight of you, beaten and broken, had shattered him, he also knew it was for your own good. It was this, or death.

He didn’t like the second option much.

But the memory of what they had done had burned into his skull. Running his fingers down your prominent, bruised spine. So fragile, but so goddamn strong. Muscles spread disproportionately about your abdomen and shoulders. Your stomach was concave for fuck sakes. And they were still beating the shit out of you.

It made him wonder. If he wasn’t so lucky…

Would he have received the same treatment?

Would he have been thrown in a cell and tortured for a week?

He doubted it.

Erwin waited for Levi to gather his thoughts. Waited for him to say whatever he was going to say next. He had expected Levi to find out. Had expected the man to have some sort of reaction, but nothing quite to this extent. Maybe there really was something deeper between you and him that Levi was keeping to himself.

“So this will continue for a whole damn week?” Levi asked, almost exasperated, running a hand through his obsidian locks. This was a nightmare. All of it. Nobody deserves this treatment. Not even Kenny, but especially not you.

It was Erwin’s slow nod that had his stomach dropping.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “This will continue for the whole week.”

That was all Levi needed to hear. Whether it was right or wrong, he was powerless to stop it. Turning on his heel and heading back down the halls to his office, he tried to push the images of your broken body and spirit from his mind. Maybe he was hoping you were the same bright eyed, mischievous woman you were before he lost you ten years ago. How had so much changed since then?

How much had you changed so much since then?

He no longer saw that spark of life in your eyes. No longer able to bask in your genuine smile.

If he hadn’t seen so many young, hopeful souls shattered by the paralysing fear of facing a titan, or the desperate heartache of losing a loved one, he’d be surprised.

But he wasn’t. Not at all. Who knows what you have had to do to survive? Who knows just how much of yourself you’d had to sacrifice to get where you are now. But he wouldn’t accept that you were gone.

He would never accept that.

But from the looks of you, only a small fragment of your true self remained. Levi thought he was over being hurt by the changes in people he somewhat cared about.

Maybe he was wrong.

꧁ꨄ꧂

The week was gruelling. Taken from your cell at night and being subjected to both physical and mental torture was one of the toughest things you’ve faced. It was brutal, having to fortify both your mind and body nightly against the blows from the MPs. Sometimes it would change. Sometimes the original four switched out. Sometimes they had an observer. But every time was horrific.

You were sure you’d be dead by now if Levi didn’t visit daily to soothe your broken and cracked bones. If he didn’t ask his monotonous questions, all of which you either responded to with something sarcastic, or silence.

Very few times you actually gave a real answer.

Unlike this time.

“How did you get that scar?” It was always the question he started with. Always wanting to know what happened to you during the time he was away, and that scar down your right eye.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking that question?” you huffed, tucking your elbows beneath your head.

“Don’t you ever get tired of not answering it?” since you’d seen him everyday since you arrived, you were beginning to relearn all the tells you knew he had, but had changed over time. For example, this smallest lilt in his voice when he found something amusing. He waited for your body to stop twitching as you laughed silently, before resuming the treatment of the damp cloth.

“Not really, it’s fun listening to you get more and more frustrated.”

“As charming as ever, Raven.”

You didn’t know how you felt about him using your alias rather than your name. You knew you’d asked him to, or rather, harshly told him to, but he’d used your actual name a few times since then. But you didn’t want to ask, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, debating whether or not to answer. You’d refused him everyday, but as more time passed, the more you remembered just how much you’d loved him.

“There was a rival gang in the neighbourhood next to ours. Always fighting us for territory or supplies. Honestly, I wanted them wiped out, but Prongs insisted that would make us far too many powerful enemies,” Levi had paused as you started the exposition, genuinely surprised you’d actually decided to give him a full answer, rather that the usual “I entered a sword headbutting contest” or something equally as ridiculous.

“We were at each other’s throats for years, never really landing a solid hit on the other’s gang, until the bastard managed to take one of my Shadows, Diablo, alive. I owed those people everything. They took me in when you—” you managed to stop yourself, but not fast enough for Levi to avoid feeling the gut punching guilt he felt whenever you accidentally mentioned him leaving. You really didn’t mean to, you were just used to talking more openly about it.

“Uh, sorry. Yeah, they took me in, so I owed them a lot. Plus, I’d known them for years by now. I trusted them and they trusted me. I wasn’t about to abandon her,” Levi could hear your conviction and resolve in the cadence of your voice, and silently wondered when you’d become so strong. He’d almost forgotten he was supposed to be treating you badly damaged back, until you hissed slightly. Looking down, he realised he’d pressed a little too hard with the cloth against your tender skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

“‘S’fine. Just concentrate, yeah?” despite your condition, you still had it in you to crack cocky jokes. Levi had half the mind to swat the back of your head with his cloth, but he decided to be merciful.

You left it a beat before you continued.

“Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. But it turns out, all the creepy bastard wanted to do was to make sure everyone knew I wasn’t untouchable. Then maybe we’d stop having smaller gangs ally with us. I let him scar my face, and in return he gave us Diablo back, completely unharmed. It was really fucking weird now that I think about it,” Levi pondered this for a moment, before another question popped into his head.

“What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“The creepy guy, idiot.”

“Call me an idiot again, I fucking dare you.”

“What will you do? You can hardly stand.”

“I don’t need to stand to beat your sorry ass.”

Shit, he’d missed this. This playful banter between the two of you. He’d missed it so goddamn much.

“He found one of my blades stuck in his throat pretty soon after,” Levi grunted in approval, a small smile bloomed across his face at the thought.

Good.

Creepy son-of-a-bitch.

The two of you continued in a comfortable silence for a short while, before your slightly mischievous voice cut through it again.

“Okay, my turn,” you sounded far too nonchalant for his liking, Levi narrowing his gaze to the back of your head.

“Your turn?”

“You’ve been asking me questions for the last few days, and I haven’t asked you one once,” if Levi didn’t know better, he’d say you were almost pouting. He was tempted to turn your head to check, but it seemed you still weren’t entirely comfortable with the whole being touched thing.

He hadn’t asked you about that yet.

“Alright, alright. One question.”

“How come you get countless and I only get one?”

“Call it a Captain’s privilege,”

“Pffft, Captain my ass,”

“Just ask your stupid question.”

You laughed at his feigned frustrated tone, knowing he was loving this as much as you were. You allowed yourself to think about how you wanted to phrase this.

“Are they still here with you? Farlan and Isobel?” you had been slightly hesitant to ask this, since he hadn’t mentioned them once. You didn’t know them personally, only seeing them fleetingly when Levi would usher you into his room, or having sparing conversation with them when Viper sold them that ODM. And judging by his pained silence, you now feared his answer.

“Yes and no,” your question had definitely caught him off guard. He didn’t even think you remembered them, so for you to ask after them was a little out of the blue. Hence why he opted to mimic your response from a few days ago.

You had clearly caught on.

“The hell does that mean?”

Levi realised he probably couldn’t tend to your back and tell this story at the same time. He was going to need all his strength to suppress the torrent of emotions he knew he was about to unlock. Sensing his change of tone, you slowly shifted so you were sitting next to him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly or awkwardly so as to not irritate your painful back.

You searched his features in the silence, partially hidden by the bangs you used to love running your hands through. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not they were as soft as they used to be.

“It was my fault,” he admitted quietly. You hated seeing Levi like this. You’d only seen him like this once before, when Kenny abandoned him. You vowed you would never let him feel like this again as long as you were by his side.

This is what happens when you’re separated.

“What was your fault?” you gently prompted, not wanting to push him, but rather wanting to let him know that you were willing to listen.

“It was our first expedition. I was naive, agreeing to let them come with us, rather than the original plan which was for me to go alone. Raven, the reason I— the reason we left, was because we were recruited for a job, and killing Erwin Smith was part of that. But none of us knew what to expect beyond the walls. We’d trained but, we didn’t know what to expect when facing an actual titan,” you didn’t press further when he took pauses or longer breaths. You were happy he was comfortable enough with you now to even tell you this. “Everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly, and it wasn’t long before it all went to shit. I lost sight of them when the storm hit, losing them in the fog. I was completely powerless to stop an Abnormal. Shit, I didn’t even know it had passed me. I just saw bodies and limbs everywhere and knew I had to turn back. By the time I got there, it was too late. They were both gone,” Levi’s fist clenched into a ball, taking his focus away from the pain in his chest to the one in his palm. He didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch, not quite able to believe how far the two of you had come in such a short amount of time.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Levi,” he didn’t really understand what you were apologising for, or why you felt the need. Afterall, it was him who left you.

“I vowed after that day I wouldn’t have any regrets. Some jackass said that if I did, their deaths wouldn’t mean anything. But I knew I would always have one. I knew I would always regret leaving you behind,” Levi looked to you through his bangs, an expression of guilt etched into his hardened face. You forgave him at that moment. You forgave him for everything.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? And whilst I may not be the same girl you left behind, I still have her memories,” your hand slid from its position on his shoulder to rest over his heart, feeling it flutter within his sturdy ribcage.

Levi faintly wondered if he was dreaming. If you could feel his heart rate increase with every touch.

“That’s why you said yes and no, isn’t it? Because they’re not physically here, but they are here,” Levi could do nothing but nod, his eyes trained on your face like a hawk. He wanted permission. Begged for it through his dark, swirling eyes. Screamed for it in the way his eyes flickered to your lips, your face so close he could smell that scent of freshly baked bread you’d always carried with you, even beneath all the filth. A few centimetres further and you would have what you’d wanted for ten long years. What you both have wanted.

“You sound ridiculous,”

“Your fault,” he could feel the flutter of your breath against his face, wishing nothing more than for you to close the distance.

Levi slowly brought his hand from his lap, his palm rising to cup your cheek.

It didn’t even get close before you flinched, eyes darting to his raised hand.

And just like that, all the tension dissolved. As if you hadn’t been busy getting lost within the storm that were his irises. Levi pulled back, as if he himself had been struck.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking,” he rose from his position next to you, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

How could he be so damn selfish? It was obvious you couldn’t do anything like that right now. Maybe not ever. And he was getting way ahead of himself. You had already said the girl who loved him was dead, he couldn’t even think how or why he would assume just because your body was present, your mind was as well. Just because he was willing, why would you be willing as well?

Except you were.

So. Fucking. Willing.

And you cursed yourself for these instinctive reactions. Every sudden movement had your mind flashing back to training. Back to Viper’s brutal learning methods. It wasn’t even that much longer after Levi left you were made the Raven. After Viper’s death, it was almost instantaneous. But that didn’t stop those seven months of brutal punishments to leave a permanent scar on your psyche. You wished you could find your voice to reassure him that you’d get over this.

But you couldn’t.

And Levi was once again the first to speak.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow Raven—”

“(Y/N),” you corrected him. After countless times of him calling you by your alias, you didn’t think you could stand it anymore. Levi raised his brow, seemingly a little confused by your interruption. “I’m not The Raven anymore. Technically that title belongs to Prongs now. So it’s just (Y/N),” despite the awkwardness of your recent encounter, you still felt that familiar warmth blossom in your chest at his softened smile, and quietly wonder if anyone else ever saw him smile this much.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N),” you returned his expression, before lying back down on your side. This was your last night in your cell, before you’d be free to join the Scouts. You silently scoffed at the irony of that statement, but nothing could quell your small candle of hope as you listened to Levi’s footsteps get quieter and quieter. Maybe things weren’t so shit up here after all.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“You know, Raven, I’m going to miss our little nighttime meetings,” another harsh blow to your stomach sent you reeling, eyes screwed shut in both pain and defiance. They were trying everything they could to break you tonight. Blood running freely down your abdomen. Fresh bruises now blossoming over the wilted petals of previous nights.

Still you refused to break. Solid walls of spite had erected around your mind, and they wouldn’t be cracked or broken. Not by anything. So you took it. You took your punishment, only opening your mouth to hurl obscene insults or vile curses in their direction. Mocking the way they struck, laughing at their lack of strength. It only resulted in harsher blows, but it was worth seeing the frustration on their faces when you didn’t scream in agony.

“You know who you remind me of like this? I only made the connection a few nights ago. Strung up and beaten like your good-for-nothing father,”

That struck a chord in you. Your eyes flew open, staring at the ground in horror. This is what had happened to him? They had taken him and beaten him? Was he still alive? Was he here somewhere?

The man, who you’d dubbed Dirt, answered all your questions with his next jab.

“A shame he only lasted a few days. You on the other hand… you’re much more fun to play with,” a feral grin sliced through his face as he circled you, drawing back to land three excrutiating blows against your lower back. You grit your teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You didn’t think you had a heart to shatter. You didn’t think any of it remained for it to be broken again.

The MPs had taken two father figures from you.

That grin still adorned Dirt’s face as he went to swing the metal bat again, only to be interrupted by the door behind you opening. Dirt’s eyes narrowed, before whoever it was seemed to please him. God you couldn’t wait for the day where you tore that venomous smile right off his fucking face.

“Captain Ackerman. To what do we owe the pleasure?” you froze. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he always have to arrive during the moments where you really didn’t want him to see you.

But you weren’t expecting to feel a kernel of hope as he spoke.

You weren’t expecting the small smile that etched into your sweat slickened face.

“I was sent to observe. Since she’ll be joining the Survey Corps, I’m here to ensure you don’t break her,” Levi sounded as bored as ever, and you almost huffed a laugh.

Dirt scoffed, in irritation that he wouldn’t get to sever your spine with brute force.

“Very well. However, I must ask you to stand back. She swings like a stallion’s cock sometimes,” If it weren’t directed at you, you would have laughed at the comment. In any other situation, it would have been rather funny.

Just not this one.

Levi had never felt so sick. As soon as he walked in, seeing you strung up like that, helplessly, he had to force down the instinct to rip every one of these torturous bastards to ribbons. He’d never had to have such a tight hold on his emotions in his life, because if that hold slipped…

This would become a blood bath.

“Anyway Raven, where were we?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical. You knew he remembered. He was just trying to provoke a response out of you. But knowing Levi was here gave you a strength you weren’t expecting.

Looking up through your hair, you shot a glare through the thick, matted strands.

“Choke on your own blood, fuckface,” you spat, kicking weakly towards him. It wasn’t the show of defiance you’d wanted, but it seemed to get the message across. You were prepared for whatever consequences there would be for such a demonstration.

The repercussions came immediately. Roughly digging his fingers into your chin, Dirt forced you head up to look at him, his face a picture of mock amusement.

Levi’s jaw clenched.

“Come now Raven. Not trying to impress Captain Levi now, are you?” your eyes flickered over to Levi, his expression unreadable, grey hues trained on the two of you. A rumble of laughter echoed around the chamber as Dirt took in your spiteful expression. “Now I’m left wondering, how somebody like you could come from somebody like your pathetic father. How somebody so defiant, so fucking strong,” —he harshly jabbed at your stomach with the hilt of his bat— “Could be the daughter of somebody so weak,”

“Shut the fuck up,” you rasp, hot fury surging through your veins. How fucking dare he? How dare he insult your father this way. He was a good man. An honest man. He did nothing wrong. Nothing to warrant his or your mother’s death.

“Hm. No, I think I’ll keep talking. This might finally break you.”

“I’ll fucking KILL YOU,” the hook keeping your arms above your head creaked as you thrashed, trying to free yourself to wrap your hands around his goddamn throat.

“You should have heard his cries. His pathetic whimpers as we carved into his flesh. They were… amusing.” No. This wouldn’t be your downfall. You refused. This wasn’t it. You would not be broken by this.

“At least tell me what he died for. At least tell me why you took him, you shit-eating pig!” you spat viciously, trying once again to get free. It was infuriating more than anything. You had so many questions, never knowing why your parents had been killed. Why you came back to your house in disarray, crimson staining the floorboards as your mother’s blood drained from the gash in her throat. Your father, nowhere to be found.

Though he managed to keep his expression neutral, Levi thought back to your father. For the short time he knew him, he was a kind man. He did what he could for the people around him, always feeding those who looked starving. He was convinced that was where you got your compassion from. Why the hell would they take him and torture him?

“Why? He didn’t tell you? Interesting. Your father knew the location of The Nest long before you became our problem. You thought it was a coincidence Viper just happened to take you in? Please, this job was enjoyable enough, don’t make me laugh with your naivety as well,”

“You’re lying. My father was a baker. He was a good man. He wasn’t involved in our criminal shit!”

“Have you noticed a pattern in your life, Raven? Have you noticed how we tried everything to prevent you from falling down this path?” your jaw flickered at Dirt’s tone, mocking you as if they had done you a service.

“We thought your father would introduce you to a life of crime, so we got rid of him for you. When you fell into the care of Viper; well, we got rid of him for you as well,” his smile was snake-like as flashes from that night plagued your mind. Pressed up against the wall as your mentor was savagely dealt with. Begging at them. Screaming at them to stop. To let him go. Only for them to raise a rifle to his head, and paint the wall with his blood.

Dirt imitated a gun with his fingers, putting them up to your forehead.

“Bang.”

Slowly, you stopped thrashing, though the hatred in your veins didn’t cool. You simmered silently, raising your eyes once again. No tears. No sorrow. Nothing but feigned indifference flickered in the low light.

Dirt looked at you for a moment, eyebrows creasing in irritation as he stepped back, twirling the bad in his hands before repeatedly cracking it against your empty stomach. Levi only just managed to control his breathing as he watched helplessly, flinching subtly as every blow connected with your too-skinny body. Clearly Dirt was taking out some intense frustration. He’d just managed to compose himself when the bastard’s eyes turned to him. That fucking smile poisoned his features as he extended the handle of the weapon.

“Captain Levi. She killed a few of your men, did she not? Why don’t you see if you can break the whore?” You almost scoffed in amusement. Levi wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not after everything the two of you had been through.

You’d finally found each other again.

You were so sure.

You were so sure of yourself.

You were so sure of him.

You’d rekindled that trust over the last week.

You’d rekindled something you thought was dead.

You were so sure.

Until he took the handle.

And the white hot knife of betrayal twisted into your gut once again.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Shit.

The weight of the bat felt ten times heavier than anything he’s ever held in his life. The weight of what he was about to do.

Fuck.

As excruciating as this was to watch, he knew it was ten times worse for you. He knew every blow, every crack, was undoing hours of hard work soothing your aches and bruises. Each thud against your body sent jolts of electricity through him. Nerve ends alight with adrenaline, heart beating as if he was about to fight every single one of these bastards just to get them away from you.

Still you have not broken. He couldn’t pinpoint the slight warmth in his chest, couldn’t comprehend what it was. Was he impressed? Surprised?

Proud…?

Levi wasn’t sure if the look of soul shattering betrayal in your eyes was worth it as his hands gripped the cool metal, slightly slickened with your blood.

He would explain it to you.

He would.

Once you were back in your cell, he would tell you why he did it.

But for now, his glare only darkened as he stepped forward. He couldn’t stand the expression on your face. Confused bewilderment, as if trying to work out what he was thinking.

Levi begged you to stop. Stop looking at him like that. Stop trying to work him out because not even he knew if this was the right thing to do.

It was almost a relief when your wide eyes clouded with heartbreaking realisation and acceptance.

A hiss escaped your lips at the first crack. Somehow, this felt more painful than anything those pitiful soldiers could do. Your eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched so hard you were afraid it would shatter into a million pieces.

Each blow felt so precise. So measured and controlled. It stung your heart more than anything else. You’d been betrayed. Again. For the second time in a week. Betrayed by the two people you’d ever loved. Scarlett, who’d picked you up when you were sure nobody else could. Who nursed your broken bones and your broken soul.

And by the first man who ever held your heart.

And truthfully, still did.

Was that all this last week had been?

A ploy just to fuck with you. To earn your trust only to immediately shatter you once again? To break your spirit? Granted, nobody knew the nature of your relationship between you and Levi, but that didn’t matter. The man you loved had just stabbed you in the back.

Again.

So much had happened in the last week. So much had been brought to the surface. It would take years to unpack it all, not that you had any intention of doing that. You just wanted it all gone. To bury it with your fathers. To never think about it again.

You were dragged from your thoughts by a shock of agony sparking up your spine, stemming from your lower back. It was Dirt’s favourite place to attack. Whenever he thought you were being too feisty, too aggressive. He would land as many blows to your lower back as he saw fit.

Admittedly, you doubted Levi knew you’d been snapping back spitefully all session before he arrived, but that didn’t quell the raging fire of hatred as your lips parted without your permission.

A broken cry of anguished agony wracked from your chest, chilling the air of the humid chamber.

Levi froze, horror flashing across his usually schooled features.

He’d broken you.

Levi had broken you.

And with it, any bond he’d managed to salvage over the last week. Any bridge he’d started to rebuild now came crashing down around him.

That one well placed crack had ripped away at your resolve, exposing the tired, hurt, beaten girl beneath.

The room seemed to have stilled. All falling into quiet awe at what had just happened. A slow clap split the stagnant air as Dirt walked up from where he was leaning against the wall. Levi was tempted to turn the bat on him, but he found himself unable to move.

“Your reputation precedes you, Captain. Striking her lower back like that after leaving it to simmer? Genius! We should have asked you to join us earlier,” Dirt cackled in delight as he produced a knife from his pocket. Reaching up, he easily sliced through the ropes binding your hands.

Stone rose up to greet your body as you fell uselessly to the ground, legs too weak to hold you.

“Oh dear. Are you dead? Maybe you and your father had more in common that I originally thought,”

“Enough.” Dirt’s jeering was interrupted by the no-bullshit tones of Levi, causing the soldier to whirl around. He’d finally managed to find his voice, once again reining himself in.

“But Captain Levi, Sir, she’s The Raven. Don’t you think she deserves some extra time with us tonight?”

“If you don’t leave now I’ll make sure it’s you who won’t be able to walk. Go,” you couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or a curse. If he was an angel or a demon.

Actually no, scratch that.

He was a demon, and this was a curse.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move as you heard busy footsteps around you, assuming the four horsemen were gathering their effects.

“I do hope you make her crawl back to her cell, Captain. We all know your reputation for cleanliness. It would be a shame to dirty your hands touching this filthy whore,” Dirt drawled one more savage insult, before you heard his echoing steps get further and further away. You hoped the day would never come where you had to see his face again.

The silence in the room now was suffocating. You could both feel the emotions radiating off each other now the MPs were gone. He could feel your loathing, and you could feel his disgust. Or what you thought was disgust. What you assumed was disgust.

How could he not be disgusted? He must be. To do what he just did. You didn’t understand why he would come down everyday and help you if he felt such hatred towards you.

No, that’s a lie.

You did understand.

But that truth hurt so much more than anything else tonight.

It had sowed the seed of doubt in your mind. You knew you weren’t a good person. In fact, to most soldiers and nobles you were a devil. But you’d always clung onto the hope that everything you did was to help people. You stole medicine, you slit the throats of rapists, you provided weapons to those who didn’t have enough to fend for themselves.

There was a small part of you that truly believed you were doing good.

That small part had just been crushed, along with several bones.

Gathering what little strength you had, you extended a limp arm in front of you. Fuck it, you weren’t going to sleep here on a floor soiled by your own sweat, blood and saliva.

You would crawl if you had to.

“(Y/N)...” all he wanted to do was hold you. All he’d wanted to do since he’d found you again was hold you. He’d been so close yesterday, but he’d fucked that up.

Now he was sure you’d never willingly let him hold you again. The bat fell from his hand as if he’d realised it was covered in poison, heart clenching at the way you instinctively threw your arms above your head, terrified of some other attack.

You hated how his voice carried so much comfort. Hated how it soothed your raging mind. God you wanted nothing more than to rip his fucking tongue out and make sure he never spoke to you like that again.

A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, forcing you to stop.

“Get… get the fuck… off me… Get the fuck off me,” you couldn’t fight back as he tucked his arms under your legs and upper back, wincing as he lifted you into his grip. “Don’t… Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no strength left in you to push against him as he carried you back, but that didn’t stop you from weakly hitting the arms that held you.

You didn’t understand. One moment he was savagely beating you, and the next he was cradling you against his chest, holding you close as he took you to your cell.

Laying you down, he hoped you understood why he did what he did. It was a fool’s hope, he knew.

He realised you definitely didn’t understand when you started fighting back.

With a sudden surge of strength, you lunged for him. It was a weak attack, and you didn’t really know what you were trying to achieve as you threw yourself towards him with a cry of anguished rage, but you also didn’t care.

“I fucking trusted you,” you spat in between your flailing limbs. It really didn’t take long for Levi to pin your arms either side of your head, hovering over your body.

“(Y/N), stop,” He tightened his grip on your wrists as you struggled against his hold. It would have been a real test of strength for both of you had you not spent the last week having the life beaten out of you. You were weaker than you’d ever been, and he was taking advantage.

“I was right the first time. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t ever get to call me that. You sick, twisted BASTARD. So that was why you lied to me. That was why you didn’t tell me why you were helping me. You fucking coward, is that all you were doing? Convincing me I was safe with you? Tricking me into thinking you still actually cared about me you filthy fucking LIAR,” you barked a mirthless laugh, baring your teeth in a visceral snarl. “I swear to you Levi, I will not fucking stop until my knife is buried your goddamn THROAT!” you struggled again, twisting as much as you could beneath him, trying to free your arms, your hands, anything that could help you take him down.

He deserved this. He knew he did. Levi looked into the burning betrayal in your eyes and knew he deserved this. He would take every verbal blow you threw at him because he knew he deserved it. But he had to explain. He didn’t care. You could hurl whatever you wanted at him, but he wouldn’t leave until he had the chance to explain himself.

Then he would never see you again.

If that’s what you wanted.

“Just calm down, for a minute, please,” you hadn’t heard him beg like that in a very, very long time. Shit, you fucking hated what it did to you. In this position, your wrists held above your head, his arms caging you in, his legs either side of your hips...

The room suddenly felt far too warm.

“What could you possibly have to say to me? I fucking trusted you. You disgusting son-of-a-bitch. I can’t believe I actually thought—“

Levi finally lost his temper.

“What? You thought what? That just because we found each other again we’d play happy families? Grow the fuck up, Raven,” he spat your alias, finally releasing all the fury he’d pent up. He knew this was a mistake. None of this was your fault. He’d been angry with how you’d been treated. Utterly beside himself at Erwin.

And you were taking the fall for it.

“I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t have a fucking choice. If anyone saw me treat you any differently, they would start to question it. They would question why I was showing pity to a criminal. The Raven, no less. And I can’t—”

“Oh I’m sorry, I would hate to ruin your reputation, Captain,” you struck back with just as much venom. Just as much fury.

“Let me finish. I can’t let them get to you anymore than they already have. It was either them or—”

“Because I’m just so import—” you almost cried out as the grip on your wrists tightened, knowing they would leave yet another bruise on your body.

“Let. Me. Finish.” Levi narrowed his eyes, returning the glare you were holding on him and not continuing until you yielded, finally looking away and clamping your mouth shut. “It was either them or me. I could let them continue to beat the shit out of you mercilessly, or I could do it myself. I could try and make it better. I couldn’t fucking watch that shit anymore. I couldn’t fucking stand it. Those filthy bastards laying their dirty hands on you. Hurting you. Shit, you were half dead when I walked in. I was scared you were for a moment. Terrified they were just beating a corpse. But you’re so much stronger than I ever gave you credit for. They never fucking broke you. And they never will. Because if they touch you again, if they fucking look at you, I will go the the ends of the goddamn earth and tear them apart, because I care about you,” Levi hadn’t noticed he was panting. He hadn’t noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t think his self hatred could sink any deeper, but now he’d made you cry silent tears.

Loosening his grip on your wrists, he looked at you as though he’d been responsible for your murder.

“So, it was mercy? That’s what’s considered merciful up here?” you couldn’t really believe it. Twice in two days Levi had spoken more to you than you thought he ever did back when you belonged to each other. You didn’t think you’d ever sounded so small. So vulnerable. “Let me ask you this, Levi. Was it merciful on me, or merciful on you? Because you sure as hell didn’t make things better for me,” despite the quieter volume, your voice was still harsh.

But you had to know.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in and thread your hands through his hair. To feel his body against yours. For his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. But you had to know whether he did this for you, or himself.

You understood now. You really did. And put in the same situation, you didn’t think you’d do any differently.

“Honestly…? Merciful to me. I couldn't bear it. I tried. I tried so fucking hard. But I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore,” his voice was no louder than a choked, guilt ridden whisper.

That’s all you needed to hear. Slipping your wrists free of his hands, you reached up. Cupping the sides of his face, you brought him down to you, since you couldn’t exactly sit up and go to him.

As soon as your lips returned home to his, you couldn’t stop the few tears from escaping your closed eyes.

Levi’s own eyes widened, and he was suddenly convinced he was dead. Was this actually happening? After everything he’s just done, everything he’s just said.

You forgave him?

When your tongue gently skirted his bottom lip, he decided contemplating forgiveness was something for later. Terrified of hurting you further, he rested his weight on his elbows, finally closing his eyes. He’d wanted this for so long. Since he laid eyes on you for the first time in ten years, he’d wanted nothing more than to envelop your mouth with his own.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t mind when his hand came up to gently caress the apple of your cheek. You didn’t mind when you opened your lips for his tongue to hesitantly slip in and explore your mouth, that slick muscle moving against yours. You didn’t mind when his hand travelled down to cup the side of your neck, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

Neither of you wanted to break away, having waited far too long for this moment. You reveled in the groan he emitted down your throat as your left hand found its way to his undercut, gently scratching and caressing in desperation. You hadn’t heard that sound in so long and you instantly craved more.

Levi’s eyes rolled back into his skull behind his closed lids, feeling your hands in his hair. God, he didn’t want to fuck you in a cell, but your hands and tongue were making it difficult for him to control himself.

He was the first to pull back, instantly missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, looking down into your eyes. You could see the swirling confusion in those sterling orbs as they flickered in the low light. You could see the arousal in his dark pupils. Feel it against your inner thigh. You wanted to take him right here and now, but not only did you acknowledge the fact you were literally in a prison cell…

You weren’t sure you were ready. Not yet. Not after everything.

“Levi… if you had done that for my sake, I would have shattered both your kneecaps,” you earned yourself a gentle laugh, his thumb coming up to smooth down your eyebrow. “But you didn’t. I know you feel selfish, and I know you hate yourself for it, but I also know that it was either that, or you beat them to death with that goddamn bat. I know you, Levi. You haven’t changed much yourself,” your left hand came back, softly carding through those ebony bangs.

Levi felt like he could fly. Felt as though you’d returned the wings he’d lost when he thought he’d never see you again.

(Y/N), I want to apolo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

With that, you stretched up to capture his mouth again, instantly feeling like you’d come back home. You didn’t care about the surge of pain coursing through your abdomen and back. That’s what he was to you.

He was home.

You felt his length twitch in his constraints as both your hands found purchase in his hair, gently tugging at the black strands.

“Fuck…” he breathed into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily as you sucked his lower lip between your teeth.

You kept having to consciously remind yourself that you are in fact in a dank, filthy cell. And enveloping him between you increasingly slick folds was wildly inappropriate.

Levi thought it was entirely unfair how you were managing to drag whines and moans from him with nothing but your fingers and teeth. So he decided it was his turn to give something back.

His hand travelled down your body, almost instinctively finding the crease in your thighs. He swallowed his own groan of ecstasy as his knuckles grazed his arousal, opting instead to focus on the way your hips rose to meet the pads of his fingers, gently rubbing your swollen, clothed clit. His circular motions drawing out those small whimpers he’d craved to hear.

“Mmn, L-Levi... ACK, fuck!” your moan of pleasure turned into a small cry of pain as your abs contracted, sending yet another lightning bolt through your system. Levi withdrew his hand immediately, eyes instantly clearing and recognising your signs of discomfort.

“Shit (Y/N), your back,” you felt your heart swell at his concern, though internally cursed yourself.

“‘S’fine,” you insisted, rising up once again to grasp his lips with yours, only to be met with thin air and you ex(?) lover looking down at you.

“No, it’s not. C’mere,” Levi sighed and lifted himself off you, careful not to cause you any further damage. He looked for permission before gently turning you on your side, as if your tongue hadn’t been down his throat less than thirty seconds ago. He cursed his erection, finding himself a little hindered by it as he walked over to the faucet, allowing himself a few moments reprieve before removing the handkerchief from his pocket and running it under the tap.

Though the mirror was cracked, he could still see his slightly swollen lips, distorted against the spider webbing fractures. Could still see the mark you’d left on his face. Shit, he wished for those marks to be left elsewhere. His mind wandered back to the way you used to settle between his thighs, teasing him until you got him to crack. He loved the way you could coerce broken pleas from his throat. Adored the black-blue bites you left on the inside of his thighs, before your warmth enveloped him. Your flexible muscle flicking up and down his sensitive length, running over that prominent vein he hadn’t felt you caress in too long. He missed feeling the vibrations of your chuckle when he begged for you to let him cum. When he felt his balls tighten with release, and yet you denied him still.

But most of all he missed tasting you. He missed the way your arousal freely leaked onto his tongue. He missed the way your hips rose to meet his fingers, that breathy gasp when he found your hidden spot. The begs and cries you made when you wanted him to let you cum. When you whined for his dick to replace his fingers. Fuck, he missed the way your thighs locked his head between them as he brought you to climax with nothing but his tongue flicking over you little, sensitive button. Over, and over, and over again.

“Having trouble?” you grinned from your position on the sorry excuse for a mattress. You’d managed to turn yourself over to watch him, disregarding any agony you felt. You wouldn’t miss this for the world. You wouldn’t miss seeing Levi all riled up and unable to focus simply because of the administrations with your mouth.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, turning the faucet off and ringing out the cloth in the sink. You chuckled at his tone and his predicament, loving every second of it. Though you couldn’t miss the small glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Oi, turn back ‘round. ‘Need to get to your back,”

“I bet you do,”

“(Y/N)...” he warned, with no real malice in his tone. If this was any other man, you would have lunged at them for taking that tone with you. But this was Levi. Your Levi. You knew he would never hurt you. Not unless absolutely necessary.

Case and point: hitting you with a bat to avoid a murder charge.

Begrudgingly, you tore your eyes from his face, haphazardly twisting on the mattress to face away from him.

“Hm, good girl,” Levi purred, eyes gleaming at the way your thighs clenched in reaction. But any spark of arousal was swiftly extinguished, when your body twitched away from his as he took his seat behind you.

You clenched your eyes shut, hating yourself for the reaction you couldn’t control. You didn’t blame Viper for your now primal fear. You knew he was just teaching you what you needed to know, but he had no fatherly experience, and possibly caused more harm than good.

“‘M’ sorry, it’s not you, I promise. I just—”

“No. No apologising. It’s not your fault,” you nodded, not trusting your voice not to crack if you spoke up now.

Levi thought hard about how he wanted to do this without causing any more reaction from you. Attempting to keep his mind from wandering too far, he tried to understand what made you comfortable enough to bring him onto your mouth. To gently tug on his lower lip. To thread your hands through his hair and--

“I have an idea… (Y/N), watch what I’m doing,” you did as he asked, turning your neck as much as you could to watch the movements of his hand. You tensed as his palm hovered over your side. But when you didn’t feel anything, you unscrewed one tightly shut eye, peering at him curiously.

“(Y/N), can you raise your body for me, just to reach my hand?” this might actually work. Levi had been wracking his brains for a way for you to feel comfortable again with touch.

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your body to meet his fingers, almost freezing as you felt no reaction. You didn’t tense, you didn’t instantly balk under his touch.

You hadn’t cried in years, and yet throughout the course of this long, long night, you had cried twice, the corners of your lashes growing damp as a tear slipped down the side of your face.

Growing increasingly concerned by your lack of response, Levi was about to move his hand from your side, but was immediately stopped by your own fingers covering his.

“Don’t. Stay. Don’t move away,” his heart burned at your broken plea, his worried expression softening in slight relief.

“I won’t. (Y/N), I’m not going to touch you without your permission. Ever. But, if you’re comfortable with it, we can do this. If you’re happy with this,” Levi gently moved his thumb against the fabric of your shirt, caressing your side. Your choked laugh of happy disbelief caused his small smile to broaden ever so slightly.

“Yes. Yes i’m happy with this,” still having trouble believing this was truly happening, you closed your eyes in bliss, allowing a few more tears to escape.

“Okay, I’m going to move your shirt up, alright?” your heart sung at his sincerity, nodding silently once again as you felt the fabric of your shirt bunch up ever so carefully. You loved how he always made you feel so precious. Nothing was precious in the Underground, but somehow he always made you feel worth diamonds and gold. You’d forgotten what that was like, until the damp cloth once again soothed your aching welts, chasing away the throbs of pain.

Those spears of guilt once again plunged into Levi’s heart as he saw what they had done to you. What he’d done to you. You were always so forgiving when it came to him. You always have been. He could lock himself in his room for days, not speak to you for hours on end and you would always be there to hold him when the pressure finally cracked. Always there to soothe him when he opened up after long weeks of isolation. When those memories of his mother dragged up again. When the day Kenny left forced him to hide away until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You always forgave him.

And could always sense what he was thinking.

He came back to the present when your hand squeezed his, as if you knew where his mind had taken him.

“It’s okay, Levi,” your soft reassurance broke his heart.

“I should be saying that to you,”

“Go on then,” you retorted, not even trying to hide the mischief in your voice

Levi chuckled, moving his hand from under yours to stroke your hair.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),”

“I feel thoroughly reassured,”

“Tch, shut up brat,” god, at this point your heart could have been a choir. Singing once again at the soft amusement gently lacing his tone. But you internally cringed as fingers threaded through your grimy hair, reaching up to move it away.

“Levi, don’t. It’s fucking filthy,”

“So’s your face but I recall sucking on it a few moments ago,”

“Levi!” you couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He was never one to make such jokes. But you couldn’t deny you loved it. Loved his low, breathy laugh at your indignant call of his name.

“What? Am I wrong?” you couldn’t see his slightly cheeky smirk behind you. Or the way one brow raised in feigned curiosity.

“Well no, but—”

“Didn’t think so.”

“God you’re insufferable. Anyone would think you’re— OW!” you turned to look back at him in mock anger. He didn’t actually hurt you, and by looking at your swiftly disintegrating expresion, Levi was able to decipher you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he continued his administration with the cloth, watching fondly as you settled back down.

You only spoke again when that hand in your hair started moving.

“Levi, seriously, it’s gross. Just focus on my back,” when he didn’t reply, you once again twisted back to look at him, unable to decipher the expression on his face.

“Stay here,”

“Like I’m in any condition to move, asshole,”

“Tch, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back in a minute,” with a final caress of your head, Levi chucked the cloth back into the sink before standing to his feet. You were a bit of a sorry sight, lying on your side, shirt ridden up to reveal your bruised, still bloodied back. He’d managed to gently scrub off most of the crimson staining your skin, but he wanted to provide you with just a little more comfort, if he could.

You didn’t even try to escape when he left the door open. Too tired to move. Your limbs felt like lead everytime you attempted to shift, exhaustion clinging to your bones like shackles. You didn’t know how long you waited, but you felt yourself start to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to help yourself marvel at how easy it would be to slip into a deep sleep. Your mind was far too heavy to sift through the lake of emotions you’d found yourself submerged in. Just as you were about to succumb to the call of rest, your faultless alert system brought you back to consciousness, adrenaline injected into your veins as you shot upright at the sound of footsteps.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” your brittle nerves settled at the sound of his calming voice, heart leaping when you saw what he carried in his arms.

Levi had brought everything he thought he would need. A small metal basin containing a small flannel, a wash-cloth, a small cup, the shower soap and hair conditioner from his own quarters and a large towel to spare the mattress of the water. Kicking the cell door almost closed with his foot, Levi crossed to the sink once again, setting out the contents on the cracked porcelain before filling the basin.

He left the faucet running, turning back to you with the town folded on his arm.

“Gonna need you to move if we want to set this down,” you raised a suggestive eyebrow, mouth pulling into a small smirk. Levi rolled his eyes. “Not like that, brat. Unless you want to sleep on a damp mattress. It’s up to you, really,” the amused spark in his eye betrayed his neutral, blank face as you gently shimmied down the bed, making a space for him to set the towel down.

You watched as he removed his jacket, mouth watering ever so slightly as his shirt clung to his back, unable to tear your eyes away from the movement of his muscles. They had certainly developed well.

“Oi, stop ogling,” he smirked to you over his shoulder, earning a sly grin from you in response.

“Can’t help it,” you chimed, eyes flicking to his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. Fuck, if only you weren’t in a jail cell. Or utterly filthy. Or just not ready for that yet.

If only you didn’t have a thousand things stopping you from pushing him against the wall and engulfing his cock in down your throat.

But for now, you just had to settle with undressing and fucking him with your eyes. Something that clearly didn’t go unnoticed, if the way he writhed slightly under your pinning gaze was anything to go by.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Levi tried to steer his thoughts away from his length stiffening once again. Fuck, the way you were staring at him, he was starting to feel hot beneath his shirt, despite the naturally cool temperature of the room. Your heated chuckle only fueled the flames.

“Aw, why? Are you hard?” you teased, raking your eyes up and down his figure, lingering on the small tent in his crotch. You shifted slightly, almost groaning as the mattress below you rubbed against your swollen folds.

“Tch, obviously. And I’m not going to deal with it in this filthy prison cell, so don’t make it worse brat,” Levi marvelled at your laugh. A proper, head thrown back laugh. He couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face at the sight.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop eye-fuckinig you,” you managed to say, after regaining some sort of composure.

“You’re filthy,”

“Isn’t that why you’re about to bathe me?” you tilted your head slightly, watching him lift the basin from the sink after turning off the faucet. He didn’t deem your comment worthy of a response, opting instead to look back at you with a blank, deadpan expression. Tucking everything else under his arm, Levi returned back to your side. He thought for a moment about how he wanted to do this before, wedging the water basin between his legs.

“Lie back, place your head on my lap. Gonna’ wash your hair,” he instructed, busying himself with getting the small, brown bottle of hair soap. But he paused upon sensing your hesitation. Looking back to you, he searched your face, before slowly bringing his hand up.

You shied away, closing your eyes instinctively, almost bracing yourself for the contact that never came.

“Hey, not gonna touch you without permission, remember?” you opened your eyes to see his hand hovering next to your cheek. He was waiting for your next move, and you could see the slight hopeful spark in his eye.

So slowly, you tilted your head enough to gently nuzzle into his palm, your own hand coming up to keep him against your face.

Levi smoothed the skin under your eye with his thumb, trying his damndest not to let any tears well up in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, you were attempting to do the same. Not wanting him to see you cry for the third goddamn time tonight. But it became impossible when he said something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I missed you so much, firefly,” your breath hitched in your throat at the old nickname. He’d only ever use it in the softest moments in the Underground. Stroking your hair whilst lying in his bed. Staying up and keeping you company when you’d shoot awake from a nightmare. He was never one for nicknames, so one day when he, out of the blue, called you his firefly;

you’d almost cried.

Your eyes widened, hand gently squeezing his own to ground yourself. You let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I missed you too. So, so much,” you hardly had to move forward before your face was nestled in the crook of his neck, his arms slowly tucking you against his body. “I missed you so much,” you whispered again.

Levi didn’t think he’d ever been this happy, at least not for a long, long time. Ecstatic you felt comfortable enough to let him hold you. Though he was usually so good at keeping his feelings to himself, so much had happened over the last week, he felt the walls to his emotional dam cracking ever so slightly, a few tears lining his closed eyes. He could feel the collar of his shirt dampen as you shed silent tears, his thumb rubbing small circles against your back.

Levi held you like this for what felt like hours. Content to just be in each other’s arms once again. In reality, it had only been a few minutes before he gently shifted you so the back of your head rested against his lap.

“Never known you to be such a cry-baby,” he lightly teased, gathering what he could of your hair and soaking it within the basin still wedged between his knees.

“I’m not. I haven’t cried in years. Literally. Probably since Viper’s—” you stopped yourself, not expecting the casual statement to hurt quite as much as it did. “Viper’s death,” you finished quietly, eyes avoiding any direct contact with his own.

Levi took note of your tone change, reaching for the hair soap. He was only vaguely aware of the relationship between you and the old Nest leader. Finding out through those vile MPs.

“Want to talk about it?” The tone of his question matched yours as he lathered the gel into your now cleaner locks to make sure the grime and grease was properly dealt with.

“Honestly? Not yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not even Prongs, or Wolf, and they were his Shadows before mine,” you fell silent for a moment, before looking back to him. “How did you do it? How did you just… leave everything behind?”

Levi sighed at the innocence of your question. The raw guilt he knew you were feeling. Knowing you were up here, safe, warm, comfortable, whilst so many people down there were still suffering. Still dying from easily preventable illnesses.

“I didn’t. Not really. I still find myself thinking back to those poor sods down there. But I couldn’t think about it for too long, because I would find myself thinking back to you,” his hand stroked the top of your now damp forehead, smoothing down the wet locks of your hair.

The basin sloshed slightly as you nodded, disheartened by the fact that this feeling of suffocating guilt would probably never leave you. Levi saw this in your face. He saw the exact same swirl of emotions he felt when he knew he would never return.

But you’d left behind so much more than he did. You had a trusted group. A family who would only know what happened to you through the words of that young girl.

“They’ll be safe, (Y/N). He may be an asshole sometimes, but I trust Erwin. He wouldn’t break his word,” running his hands through your soaked hair, Levi gently teased the knots out with his fingers, easily gliding through the now freed strands.

His reassurance calmed your worries. Levi hardly trusted anyone, you only ever knew him to trust Isobel, Farlan and yourself. This Erwin guy must have really made an impression.

Reaching back to the small flannel he’d brought down with him, he began drying your hair, setting the basin to one side. You didn’t think you’d ever felt this pampered. This well looked after. You thought you could certainly get used to it. Returning your thoughts to the conversation, you exhaled a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… My job was to take care of them. My job was to stop something like this from happening. Our entire operation was compromised because my shitty partner couldn’t get over some grudge she had against a boy she’d never met,” you poked his chest as he rolled his eyes, looking down at you with a brow raised.

“So it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You implied it,”

“Oh don’t be so sensitive,”

“I wasn’t the one who cheated,”

You almost sat bolt upright at that, if it weren’t for him anticipating the movement. What did he mean ‘cheat’? You didn’t cheat. You would never cheat. Loyalty ran through your veins like blood, and if you weren’t so incredulous you would have spotted the smallest hint of mischief in his steely eyes.

“Wh— Cheat? I didn’t cheat. What makes you think that?” your genuine concern broke his heart, and he almost felt bad for teasing you like this.

Almost.

Taking your face in both his hands, Levi failed to suppress the fugitive smirk on his face.

“We technically never broke up, brat,” you breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to scowl at him, tempted to lightly smack the back of his head.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, asshole,” your scowl held no heat, too relieved that he was just being pedantic rather than actually implying you would ever be disloyal. But your glare melted away at the rumble of a chuckle emitting from his chest. You rolled your eyes, trying your best to feign annoyance and failing miserably.  

Removing the small towel from your now damp hair, Levi deemed it dry enough for you to sleep on without catching a cold.

“There. Think you can do the rest yourself? I don’t wanna… make you uncomfortable or anything,” it was your turn for your heart to break, his consideration for your comfort and wellbeing always seemed to be his top priority. You took his hand in yours, gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

“You’ve done more than enough,” earnest gratitude swam in your eyes and it was all Levi could do not to stoop down and kiss you.

Instead, he stayed put for a little while longer, stealing all the seconds he could. He’d realised, with you joining the Survey Corps, you two wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. The company you’d both enjoyed for the past week would be ripped away by expeditions, training and paperwork.

So he greedily took as much time as the two of you could spare, before you would inevitably have to part ways.

“I have to go, (Y/N),” Levi whispered, although every part of him was longing to stay, especially when your face slowly fell in realisation.

“I know,” you tried to mask your melancholy with a gentle smile, but your voice betrayed you, breaking slightly as you spoke. Neither of you wanted to be the one to move. Neither of you wanted to be the first to burst the protective bubble of familiarity you both knew you wouldn’t feel again for a long, long time.

But to save him from doing it himself, you were the one to shift, allowing him to rise from the bed.

“I’ll uh, leave all this here and collect it early in the morning,” Levi shifted slightly awkwardly on his feet, running a hand through his hair. You nodded, adjusting yourself carefully. Your midsection didn’t hurt as much, more of an echoing throb, but you were still cautious nonetheless.

“Right, yeah. Probably a good idea, before anyone sees,” you shrugged, avoiding having to look at his face. You knew it would break both of you if you’d asked whether there was any chance of him staying.

Just for a little while longer.

“I’ll see you soon… Raven,” you felt your soul crack as he replaced your name with your alias. You knew it was right. You knew it was for the best. But that wouldn’t stop every fiber of your being shattering.

Levi hated how you said nothing as he turned to leave. He pretended not to notice your heartbreak as he deliberately called you Raven. He suppressed the urge to pick you up and take you with him. To carry you to his bed and cage you in his arms as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

He didn’t know your prolonged silence was because you were gathering your courage. Silently arguing with yourself over what was right and what was wrong until you stopped him by calling his name.

“Levi…” There was no turning back now. You took a breath, finally raising your eyes to meet his now on the other side of the bars. “I—” love you.

You immediately stopped yourself, finding those three words caught in your throat. You couldn’t say them. Shit, you couldn’t say them.

You were a coward.

“Thank you,”

Levi stayed searching your face. He knew. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted to say. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding, giving you one last look of badly masked longing, before turning away.

“Training starts tomorrow,” though the words themselves were cold, his tone was laced with mourning as his footsteps echoed out of earshot, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Levi had managed all but three steps into the hallway before his name was called by an irritatingly familiar voice.

“Ah, Levi. Good. My office. Now, if you’re not busy,” Erwin had a way of saying ‘if you’re not busy’ that sounded like he was really saying ‘there is absolutely no debate in this, you could be bleeding out and missing an arm and I would still expect you in my office within the next five minutes’. Levi knew he didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Sure. Let me make some tea and I’ll be right there,” he knew he’d made a mistake. The look in Erwin’s cerulean eyes told him that the tall blonde had figured something out. Something dangerous that could compromise his relationship with you.

Actually, he’d probably figured out he had a relationship with you.

Shit…

He was in so much trouble.

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Ten

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: omg this chapter is so sad!!!

Warnings: angst, language

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART TEN

You cried so much that you forgot what it felt like to not have your breath caught in your throat, or tears in your eyes, wetness on your cheeks. Even if you’d barely spent a week with Loki, when he left you there, without even trying to get to you, the bond inside of you screamed. It’s even worse than when you couldn’t see him, when Natasha and Bruce were trying to get you to stay away. Now that’d you’d had a taste, you just wanted more, and the bond that had been a knot in your belly now felt like burning fire.

Thor took you in his arms and brought you back to a jet, but both the wound on your head and the one in your heart kept you from having any conscience of it. You were crying so hard it hurt, your stomach clenching, breaths hiccupping out of your lungs, eyes swollen.  

The last thing you remembered before they put you under, pressing a mask to your face, was the wretched sobs coming from your throat.

Your dreams were nothing but black. It was like floating in space, with no stars, with no air, and the suffocation of the dream left you even more anguished than Loki’s departure.

Why hadn’t he tried? Why hadn’t he at least tried to take you with him, instead of looking at you with those eyes, his mouth parted?

You’d remember that look until the day you died.

Death was more peaceful than this.

When you woke up, Bruce was all over you, acting like the mommy you both never had. He was in your recovering room 24/7, bringing you everything you ever wanted. And when they moved you out of the recovery room and back at the Avenger’s compound, Bruce was still on your heels like a leech. 

Nat kept her eyes on you every time you passed by the door, as if you’d pounce right back out there if she dared to leave you alone.

Steve kept giving you speeches about good and evil, how Loki’s bond with you did not mean what he did was right. 

Tony dropped by once in a while, asking you questions on Loki, but all you knew was what you’d seen while at the loft, and revisiting those memories made you want to scratch your eyes out.

When you stopped talking, just shut down, they brought in a therapist. But even she couldn’t make you talk. All that anger was the only thing that made you remember him. And the bond desperately wanted you to remember him. Every single moment spent away from Loki, the bond called to him. It gave you stupid ideas to reach out somehow, to runaway, to seek out a way to get back to him. 

But you couldn’t leave. Ever. The Avenger’s compound was on lock down, and you could not be left alone in it, ever. It was your own personalized prison. 

You wished so desperately, but so quietly, that Loki would come for you. That he’d bring an army and get you back. 

But the news you overhead - because they didn’t allow you to know anything about Loki’s whereabouts - suggested Loki couldn’t give more of a fuck about you. He’d terrorized more people across the Earth, all intent on “taking over the world” or whatever. 

“He’s got Selvig,” you heard Thor telling Nat. You were lying on the couch and they didn’t know you were there as they prepared lunch. “He’s going to open a portal and bring the Chitauri army here.”

“If he does that,” Nat said with a hiss, “then it’s going to get far worse than it already is.”

You knew what she meant by that. The Avengers already had to take care of you - Loki’s soulmate - and adding an alien war to the pile was not going to facilitate their game.

And if Loki wasn’t coming for you, you wouldn’t make any effort to get back to him. 

*** Eighteen days later, Three hours before the attack on New York ***

You didn’t like the movie. Nat had chosen it as the boys had taken over the gym to have “a boys workout” as they called it. 

Nat had been careful in avoiding any romance movies, and had picked an action packed, hot boy movie with no story line and a lot of explosions. The main character was good-looking enough to distract you from the actual plot, and the fact that you did not have a phone - actually, not allowed - made you even more concentrated on the character. 

It wasn’t long before the boys came back out, smelling like sweat and rubber. Lately, they’d all been hitting the gym often since Loki’s army was waiting to invade. Tony insisted on a seven-day a week training until they’d either caught Loki or killed him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat at the image of a dead Loki in your head. Thor’s presence didn’t really help either. He kept mentioning his brother as if you weren’t even there. 

“You okay?” Bruce asked, tapping your knee as he took a seat beside you.

You wrinkled your nose. “Ew, Bruce, you smell so gross,” you whined, pinching your nose. 

He smiled, the perpetual look of caution on his face he wore only around you dropping and softening his features. 

“Come on,” he drawled, “it’s not that bad!”

But before you could answer, Tony’s cell rang. Everyone went deadly silent. You could feel the blood draining from your face as Tony brought the device up to his ear, his face severe.

Your fingers curled into fists. Your blood ran cold, colder than you’d ever felt as you watched Tony’s face tighten. 

The first thought to enter your mind was Loki’s wellbeing. 

Please tell me he’s fine.

Tony hummed and hung up. “Suit up,” he said, his tone deadly, “Loki’s opened up the portal. They’re dropping armed Chitauri in the streets.”

The entire living room activated, as if everyone around you had just been waiting for Tony to give the heads up. Nat launched off the couch, running upstairs to get her suit, followed my Steve and Clint - which yes, they’d manage to save between all this time.

Tony turned into the kitchen, mumbling to JARVIS.

Only Thor and your brother remained in the living room, hard like statues, their eyes emotionless.

“Who’s gonna babysit, huh?” you mumbled, but your words felt like ash on your tongue. 

“I wager I should stay,” the God of Thunder said, pointing to you. “After all, my brother will attempt to get her out of here before he obliterates the planet.”

The soulmate bond would not let him leave you here to die.

Bruce shook his head, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “She’s my sister,” he said. “And you’re more needed than me on the battlefield.”

You frowned, anger and heat crawling up your chest like sour vines. “Bruce, if he gets here and you’re the one standing between him and me, he will go through you,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I can take him,” Bruce shot back. “And Thor will man the streets with the rest of the team. No one is going to take this planet and no one is going to take my sister! And until Loki is either dead or locked up until the end of your days, I will never allow you out of my sight!”

Thor knew better than to stay. He vanished from the living room even before Bruce had uttered the last words, either because of the look on your face or the privacy you and your brother needed.

Bruce had stood, towering over you, his face stricken with a mix of anger and annoyance, and you looked up at him from under your brows, heaving, feeling betrayal course through your veins. 

“Bruce,” you muttered, trying to keep a lid on your anger. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my fucking brother looking after me forever.”

Bruce’s lip twitched. “That’s what you made us all think,” he seethed. “That’s what we thought. That we could trust you. And then you literally betrayed us and went to him with arms wide open.”

“He’s my soulmate, Bruce!”

“I don’t care!” At this point, your brother didn’t care that he was screaming and that Tony could hear him in the kitchen. “You’re a threat to yourself.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” you gritted from clenched teeth.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “I told you the bond is different for men,” he said. “He doesn’t care about love or passion or whatever he made you think! It’s about possession, owning what is meant to be his! And with Loki, there is no possible way the bond could be -”

“You don’t know that!” Now it was your turn to stand, facing your brother like you’d done so many times as kids, but this time, it was for something a little more severe. “You say all that shit about the bond for men but you don’t even know yours! You stopped yourself from knowing her because of the shit you did to yourself!”

You regretted the words before they left your mouth, but anger had made you open up your lips and spill anything hateful that would deter your brother. And it did. It so fucking did. His face fell from that angered scrunch to something more tragic, tormented. 

Bruce had always counted on you to understand that the Hulk was not - absolutely not - Bruce. 

And there you’d been, accusing him of creating this monster he hated so much.

Bruce took a step back, his eyes falling to the ground. “If you leave this house, I will not hesitate to use force.” And then he plopped himself on the couch.

You looked up, seething, spotting Tony leaning against the door to the kitchen. He shrugged, jerking his head to the stairs, silently signaling that maybe you should retreat to your room.

Feeling like a child who hadn’t gotten what she wanted, you ran up to your room, crossing Steve in the hallway and not even bothering with wishing him luck. For all you cared at that moment, they could all burn.

You felt like your insides would fall out as you tumbled into your room, slamming and locking the door. You sat on the edge of the bed, holding a pillow to your belly, hoping the pressure would prevent your insides from spilling out.

What had you done? Why had you gone and said those things? The image of Bruce’s face falling, that look of utter bewilderment and betrayal passing across his features, haunted you. You rocked on the edge of your bed, feeling the tears brimming behind your eyes, an odd sort of pressure building in your head. 

You knew he was there before he even spoke. The air shifted, like a soft wind inside a glass jar, and the sound of fabric against fabric echoed in your otherwise dark room. 

“He’ll kill you,” you said, biting on the edge of the pillow to keep from sobbing.

“I am not really here,” he answered.

Relief and disappointment. They would not be able to hurt him if they caught him in here. He wouldn’t be able to actually touch you. 

“What do you want?” you uttered, still clutching the pillow, facing away from him.

“I can come and get you out of here,” he said, his voice calm, leveled.

You frowned. “You left me,” you whispered. “You fucking left me, Loki. You didn’t even try. And even if I wanted to go with you, my brother would rip you to pieces before you even set foot in here.”

You could sense Loki’s anger, rippling from him even in his illusion form. “You do not want to come with me?” His voice was rough, as if fighting to stay even. He was sad. 

You clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. “No.” Then you straightened. “No. Leave me alone. You’ve caused enough damage in under a month of being my soulmate. I don’t want to see you again. Now get the hell out of my room before my brother has me put in an actual cell.”

You never got an answer.

When you turned to see if he was still there, the air was empty, dark, silent, as if he’d never even been there to begin with.

DON’T WORRY! I KNOW WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING. I HAVE A PLAN ;)

tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor 

[sweetea-rosey]

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

.

.

.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

.

.

.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

.

.

.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

.

.

.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Hello lovelyyy! Could i request a Billy imagine? He makes fun of the reader after hooking up with her at a party and she just playa along for the sake of his reputation but it hurts her a lot. He finds her and apologizes and its all really angsty with a happy ending??✨

Facades - B. Hargrove

I love this req so so so so so so much and I am so sorry I took so long to complete it! If you hate it then I am so so sorry and I hope you let me know so i can send you pictures of baby otters to apologise!

I really hope you like it!!

TW: THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF BULLYING, SEXUAL REFERENCES, SWEARING, BRIEF ALLUSIONS TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE / PARENTAL ABUSE, BILLY BEING A BIT OF A MYSOGINISTIC PRAT, Y/N STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE PEEPS AND BEING A QUEEN AND MENTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL STARING AT INTIMATE BODY PARTS.

IF THIS CONTENT CAN POTENTIALLY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOUR OWN MENBTAL AND PHSYICAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN.

Original Story by defensive_sarcasm17.

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner that removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing is not cool, my loves.

Billy Hargrove was an asshole.

Not just your regular asshole, but the kind that knew he was an asshole and allowed his severe longing for attention to control his every action. Whether positive or negative attention, he craved it; he reveled in it.

He knew it was wrong, but simply knowing he was on somebody’s mind in any way filled him with a sense of pride. It disgusted him but the thrill was far too addictive.

And there was sweet Y/N. Anybody could tell that she didn’t fit in. She walked - no, she strut - to the beat of her own drum. The minute he arrived she caught his attention. He had never before witnessed how somebody could be so unique and beautiful, yet remain on the outside. She was a fascinating creature and he hadn’t before felt such an intense desire to get to know somebody.

She was so different to so many people, both in personality and appearance, yet she took care to avoid bringing others down. Her first interaction with him was her reprimanding him for speaking ill of another girl in their grade with his friends. She had overheard the conversation that occurred near to her locker and made sure to discuss it with him away from his friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him and herself, but she also needed to tell him that his behaviour was unacceptable. He made more of an effort to watch his tongue after that, but old habits die hard and he quickly resorted back to being an ill-mannered asshole.

Just... never to her.

Nevertheless, he was still drawn to her. Their relationship evolved, a few sneaky kisses, hanging out outside of the arcade, or the cinema, or even the one time that Billy was eating at the diner and Y/N took a seat across from him just to babble about some new thing she was doing. If she was anybody else, Billy would have told her to take a hike, but instead, he clung to every word she told.

What Y/N didn’t know, though, was that she had become a butt of some jokes amongst Billy’s friends. Her kind, bubbly personality, her eyes that were often wide in energetic glee, the way she held a cheesy smile on her lips whenever she passed Billy in the hall.

To her it was normal. Never in her the lengths of her imagination would she conclude that the way she behaved would spur other people - people that she has grown alongside - to ridicule and tease her behind her back.

So she continued on in blissful nativity, even going as far as spending a night with the brutish boy - cuddled together, fumbling blindly amongst the rumpled sheets of her double bed. What started as a meaningless conversation at one of the many parties ended in one of the best nights that either had experienced.

She was entirely enamored by him, forming an intense and strong connection with the way he would present himself to her. She quite enjoyed the Jekyll within him.

The euphoria that he felt in her presence wouldn’t fade away like it normally did, even as he took his leave from her.

But when Billy was seen by Y/N’s neighbour, Angela, leaving her house early in the morn, the news circulated with the intensity of a swarm of angry locusts amongst the school.

And when Billy turned up to school late the next day, after a long and enjoyable farewell with Y/N and a quick stop at his own abode to change and freshen up, he was hounded the minute he approached his friends in the cafeteria.

“Please for the love of all that is cool in this world, tell me you didn’t hook up with freaky Y/N,” Tommy blurted in front of almost the entire cafeteria. The frown on Billy’s face did nothing to deter the boy, and from the corner of his eye he could see Y/N still as a statue as she felt most eyes turn towards her. Her tray was clasped between her fingers and she struggled to shift her features away from shock. “I mean, look at her,” he raised a hand as if he intended to whisper, yet the silence of the room ensured everybody heard, “You’d get more satisfaction out of a bean bag chair. She’s a dork.”

In that moment, he had two options: stick up for Y/N and confess to the growing admiration he harbored for her in front of everybody, and remove the cloud of admiration he received from many women and men alike; or do what billy does best-

“Please, I won’t put my dick just anywhere, willingly,” he scoffed, avoiding the burning gaze from the girl. His stormy blue eyes hid the flurry of his neurons, all of them working overtime to one up with an excuse, an answer, anything to avoid judgement from his peers. “She ended up with my jacket at the end of the night and there was no way I was letting her keep it.”

Tommy had an evil smirk on his face, turning his gaze towards Y/N and eyeing her in a grotesque way. His eyes linger on her chest for longer than she deemed comfortable before he snapped back to Billy. “Figured as much, but, we’ve all seen the way the freak looks at you. Even now, she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

More sniggers erupted throughout the room. Y/N placed her tray down carefully, planning to leave the room as fast as she could, but she stopped when she saw Tommy crook a finger at her. He beckoned her closer, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

“Is she dumb?” Tommy grunted as he nudged Billy’s shoulder with his own. “Come here, freaky!” Some chatter resumed in the room, but all eyes were still on her. She slowly stepped towards their table, crossing the few meters difference as slow as she could.

A chuckle left Billy, but he had forced it from his chest. His mind was going through many scenarios in which he could hurt Tommy, his favourite settling on stabbing him in the hand with one of the cafeteria forks followed by a severe pummeling to the face, but the eyes on him sent his adrenaline spiking. He felt horrible about speaking so badly of Y/N, but everybody had their attention focused on him. He was making people laugh, gasp, grumble even. He saw the girls at the table next to them get closer, winking at him and whispering along themselves about Y/N.

It was intoxicating.

“Tell us, freaky,” Tommy drawled, a sinister smirk forming in his thin and cracked lips. “You’re just obsessed with my man, Billy, here. Aren’t you?” Billy didn’t meet her eyes, and she knew - she just knew - that he didn’t enjoy what was happening, but she figured he would have the decency to stop it from continuing.

She had seen many sides of Billy, including the menacing, careless, boarding-on-sociopathic side, but she had managed to convince herself that she was immune to the abuse that tumbled from his lips. Y/N was already scolding herself inside her mind for thinking such discrepancies.

“Look at her, Billy. She can’t even speak!” Billy felt Tommy shove his shoulder with the palm of his hand, dropping the appendage quickly when he noticed the glare Billy shot him. His face paled slightly before the arrogance returned and the smirk resurfaced when his gaze shifted back to Y/N.

She hadn’t moved, her eyes locked on Billy. In those situations, Y/N knew her tear ducts were far to close to her eyelids, often spilling over at the any confrontation. She shied away from it, knowing that it often resulted in heartache and misfortune - but this time she felt anger. She just wasn’t quite sure if the anger was directed at herself or Billy.

Maybe both.

To add fuel to the flame, Billy turned his steely cerulean eyes towards her, raking them along the length of her body before he decided to open his mouth once again.

“Do i make you speechless?” his voice was sultry, warm, juxtaposing with the chill that ran down her spine at the audition.

It took her back to the previous night when he whispered sweet nothings against her skin. But she knew this was not the same Billy. This was the Billy that he would show to everyone. Everyone but her.

This was his Hyde, and she despised it. This was far from her Billy, but she knew how much his reputation meant to him.

He held her gaze strongly, but she could see something else in his expression. He was hoping that she would stay quiet, retreat from any chance of spilling his secret to the entire cafeteria, but part of his mind was telling him that he deserved her to speak the truth.

“I can’t help it, Billy,” she mumbled, hoping that a confession would make everything end. Her face was stoic, jaw set in a tight clench, only relenting to let the words slip out. To the rest of the cafeteria, it would portray as nerves and embarrassment, but to Billy - he knew that something had definitely changed in the usual mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman. Shame was running through her head at an alarming rate, mixed with embarrassment and cut with a growing anger. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. It’s hard to deny how i feel about you.”

The words hit him like a speeding truck. Despite their activities, she had never once given him an indication for the depth of her feelings, nor had he for her. He had came to the conclusion that she simply knew of his emotions without the audition of them - he treated her so differently, he thought.

Nevertheless, he wanted to believe that her words were the truth, but the fire blazing in her beautiful eyes set his skin alight and had his heart pounding against his ribcage with guilt. She was Y/N. She was kind, she knew him. She knew how much he craved the satisfaction of being on somebody’s mind as if he could sense that he held somebody’s attention.

He knew she did it to help him, and he was somewhat grateful underneath the growing guilt.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. His face held a look of astonishment, but once again he returned to his stock standard expression. “What an absolute spaz!”

Billy found himself nodding along to avoid the heat-filled stare, swallowing the lump of bile rising in his throat, “Why is it that all the dorks think they have a chance with me? I must have a wannabe-magnet that makes them all hot for me,” his cackle was filled with faux-malice, but the students were none the wiser. His thoughts were roaming around his head, moving faster than he was sure his brainwaves could manage.

He barely noticed when a feminine voice hit his ears and said something about Y/N needing to cool off before pouring a drink over her head. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her shirt and her hair was pushed to the front of her face.

“There you go,” Carol - the girl that had Tommy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she has a circulation issue - had been the one to spill the liquid over her head. The smile on Carol’s face was dripping with sugar, but Billy knew that it was actually salt.“The red makes you look less like an ugly cow.”

A gasp left her lips, her eyes closing quickly. Y/N knew that the tip of the iceberg was approaching. Everybody has the point in their anger when they hit a point of hypersensitivity. Their body struggling to find a way to release the pent up friction in anyway, and it chooses to take the route of tears.

When she opened her eyes they had already began to blur with tears, yet she could still make out Billy’s figure, but she didn’t stay long enough to hear their taunts any longer. Her feet carried her to her car at a steady pace, where she finally allowed the emotion to escape in any way it pleased.

<><><><><>

He had expected to see her in their next class. Her presence was the only think that kept him from flipping out during their history class. Mr Daniels, the balding, narcissistic, middle-aged douche bag, had it out for him. Billy had often joked that it was because of the hair - pure jealousy, he said. The mere sight of Y/N’s profile managed to keep him occupied, his mind running wild with thoughts of the woman.

But when he had noticed she wasn’t there, all resolve had fled his body as his body fled the school. He had been trying to reach her since he had left, the pay phone on the corner of the block had his attention for nearly an hour, all of his change spent dialing her number over and over again with the same result.

The guilt was eating away at him, shame creeping up his spine.

He was an asshole. Plain and simple.

He had spent nearly his entire wallet on the pay phone, growing more frustrated by the minute. If she were home, she would answer. She always did. She was too kind to ignore a call. Hell, she even stayed on the line with telemarketers until they stopped talking for long enough for her to apologise and bid them goodbye.

The mere thought had him slumping his forehead against the receiver of the phone. His patience had worn thin and he cursed under his breath as he reefed his keys from his pocket and set off towards his blue camaro.

He needed to see her. The image of tears running down her cheek was burned into his mind, occupying all of his thoughts as his subconscious mapped out the route to her house. He had only been there once, maybe twice after dropping her home one afternoon, but he had the way etched into his hippocampus alongside many things about Y/N.

He had barely pulled in to the curb before he shut down the engine and stomped to her door.

His knuckles were rapping on the door before he knew it.

He knocked again, and once more. But no answer. Her car was parked in the drive way, he knew she was home. He picked up on the faint sound of music playing, some indie band that she was fond of. Not Billy’s taste.

“Y/N?” He called, fighting the lump that had swollen in his throat. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you!”

The door opened slightly, just enough for Y/N to stare at him with innocent eyes full of shame before the chain stopped it from advancing further.

“I think you’ve said enough, Billy,” her voice sounded broken. Shattered even.

Her hair was still saturated, the T-Shirt she wore was stained, and he faintly recognized it as one of her favourite articles. A from was deeply carved into her features and he had to restrain his mind from thinking about how she adorable she looks with a crease between her brows and a dimple forming on her chin with growing anger.

“Darling, please let me in. I need to talk to you about something,” he flashed a charming smile. His pink lips contrasted perfectly against his sun-kissed skin. He was a delectable sight and he knew so; he made sure to dress to impress on the daily. He craved the looks of lust and jealousy. Like neon straight into his awaiting veins, it was his drug. Even the way Y/N glared up at him made his ego hum, but his heart ached with the disappointment she showed. “What happened in the cafeteria... it’ll never happen again. I just, I couldn’t-“

The door abruptly slammed in his face silencing his words in an instant. He froze, the sound shaking his spine and clearing his train of thought, only for the sound of a chain clicking and the door reopening capture his attention back.

There she stood. Hair drenched beyond all hope, clothes stained a bright red, throwing off the aesthetic of her outfit for the day. Her makeup was smudged more than he originally thought, as if she had been furiously scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. His heart ached, but he couldn’t deny the excitement in his nerves when she gave him her full attention.

Her hand reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside faster than he thought possible.

“Couldn’t what?” She snapped at him, venom coating her words in a way that made him recoil. “Couldn’t resist making fun of me? Couldn’t resist having every single pair of eyes on you? Couldn’t resist taking the piss out of me, just like you have done for months?”

She wasn’t meant to know about that, he thought. She was meant to be none the wiser. His face paled, eliciting a dry laugh from her chest. She felt the pressure of the forced omission in her stomach, the muscles aching from the furious sobs that racked her frame moments before.

“All of this time, I was trying to be your friend, Billy! And you!” She waved her hand at him, pointing at him in a manner dripping with unbridled anger. “You were playing me for the fool! I’ve been the butt of all jokes between you and your asshole friends since the minute I opened my big mouth to talk to you, haven’t I?”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew that he should have punched Tommy in the face for even bringing anything up in front of her. His friend had noticed that he had abruptly halted the jokes surrounding the girl in question, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason why. He was falling head over heels, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Now he felt like his heart was ripping in two at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and he was the reason.

“It started as a joke, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” His voice was full of pain. Self-loathing. “Yeah, Tommy and I used to make fun of you for a while, but...” his words faded away.

The chuckle that left her lips this time was a hearty one, more like she was laughing at an actual joke than their humourless situation.

He didn’t realise how intently he was staring at her sock covered feet until he brought his eyes up to her face. She was genuinely laughing, but the tears that he didn’t realise were falling down her cheeks made his arms twitch from the need to hug her.

“My god,” she huffed, bringing her palms to her eyes and pressing hard, almost as if trying to hold her tears back. Her voice deceived her, and she sobbed for - what felt like - the millionth time that day. “I’m such an idiot.”

His hands connected with her shoulders and he brought her in against his chest. The hug was all he could do to comfort her, for he knew so little about his own emotions to even begin to understand another’s pain.

“Every time we spoke, every time we hung out together...” she pulled herself back from his chest. She couldn’t stand the contact that she craved so much, for she knew that it was unrequited. “Every time I kissed you.. last night. It was all bullshit!”

“Princess,” his own voice began to shake, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, “Every moment I have ever spent with you has been because I want to.”

She worked her hands into her now half-damp hair, pulling it back from her face in a tight grip, “Why? You and your friends needed some new material?” She released a heavy breath, her lips trembling. “Nancy told me about all of the jokes last week, yet I still went home with you last night. I still played along while the entire cafeteria stared me down because I know how much your reputation means to you. I know that I am at the very bottom of your priority list, Billy. Everything you do is for a purpose, and your purpose with me was just to make me feel worse than literally everybody in that school already does.”

He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were afraid she would pull away from him forever. He was never sure of his emotions, but this time, he knew that he would watch the world burn just to make her happy. He hated himself. He hated Tommy, and the girls that embarrassed her further. He hated Neil, and he hated his own narcissism. He hated the world for making such a beautiful soul so miserable, but he especially hated how he knew right from wrong and still chose the latter.

His fingers laced with hers, but her hand remained slack in his grip. It was better than nothing, he thought.

He cleared his throat, the organ feeling as stiff as a piece of cardboard, his mouth dry. The next words would be difficult, but they were honest. She deserved honesty.

“When I first met you, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t really want to. You were kind and thoughtful and you pulled me aside to chew me out for talking shit about some girl, but you did it where you knew my friends wouldn’t hear, just so you could spare my reputation. For the first little while, yeah, we made jokes. I made fun of the weird way you dress and the horrible music you listen to, and how you are the nicest person I have ever met, but the it stopped. The things you did stopped being funny to me, and the way I felt when I was around you changed completely.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?” Her tear-filled eyes wrinkles, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Tommy and the rest of the assholes, they noticed that I didn’t want to talk shit about you, or that I didn’t like when they would talk about you in the way - in the way we talk about other girls. Its hypocritical, but they dropped it. Until today. All because Angela couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.” He caught the look that she sent him, frowning slightly. “Sorry. Because Angela told them that I left here this morning, and they wouldn’t shut their stupid mouths the minute they saw me. I told them that I had nothing to say about you, but they wanted answers and I said shit that I never wanted to say.”

She watched him intently. Tommy had made a lot of comments about her over the years she had known him. The other guys had too, but she did notice that they started backing off lately. She hadn’t paid much attention to the fact, secretly hoping that they had begun to mature, but to think that Billy made them stop - well she didn’t know what to think.

“Why did you make them stop?” her mind was running faster than her mouth, but she still couldn’t put it together. If Billy was anybody else, she would maybe think that he reciprocated the feelings she expressed for him in the cafeteria but he isn’t - he is Billy Hargrove, and he doesn’t have feelings for anybody.

He laughed for a second. A soft, disbelief fueled cough. His eyes seemed to shine bright in the dull lighting of her house. Neither of them had realised the time that has passed, it was now nearing the afternoon. He looked down at her, his stomach full to the brim with an odd sensation.

“You really don’t know?” he seemed to have stepped closer to her, only slightly. His shoulders were slightly shrunken in. She shook her head softly, the crease returning to between her eyebrows as she thought. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Never in his teenage life, had Billy feared rejection from a woman. His mother had given him all of the rejection he needed for a lifetime, but now, as he stared into Y/N’s eyes, his lungs seemed to constrict.

It was as if her world froze for a moment. Not only did Billy Hargrove, possibly her best and only friend, confess that he has feelings for her, but he said that he loved her. To say she was at a loss for words would be an understatement, but she stood in front of him gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing every time she wanted to say something.

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same,” He spoke, slightly lower than when he confessed to her. He turned away from her slightly, releasing her hand and using it to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt like it was aflame and he started to sweat. “I just wanted to let you know, especially after what happened today. I-I’m sorry for the shit I said, and I am gonna kick Tommy’s ass for this. And I’m sorry that you had to say that stuff today. I know that you just said it to help me, and I appreciate it but you didn’t have to -”

His words fell short when he felt arms wrap around his waist. It was a soft, slow gesture, new, but not entirely uncomfortable. If he had to put money on it, he would say that she could feel exactly how fast his heart is beating.

“Those things I said today, about my feelings for you...” she began, head pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, princess?”

“They were all true.” He pulled her back slightly to look at her. It was his turn to look confused. “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, Billy. Being around you just makes my heart swell and everything better.”

His heart started to beat impossibly faster, but there was still hesitance in her voice. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t deal with this split-personality bullshit, Billy.” He had never heard her curse before. It was music to his ears, exciting, entrancing, but he also knew that she meant business. She was incredibly serious. “The person you are when you are around me, that is the guy I am obsessed with. Who you are when everybody else is around... I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that now, and I hated it.”

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry for that, I promise, I will be better. Even if you won’t have me, I will be better. For you.” His eyes held an honest strength. It was as if he were selling his soul to her, right there in her entry way, where they had stood since she wrenched the door open in a fury. “But, if you will have me, how about I take you out tomorrow night? If you don’t want to, then I understand.”

“I would love that,” she smiled up at him, the expression growing wider as a matching one took over his face.

He couldn’t help but lean forward slowly, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When their lips connected, he melted into the touch, moving with such intensity it was as if he were repeating his apology and his promise into the kiss.

She had never felt more wanted before, and he had never felt more safe.

When their lips parted she rested her forehead on his for a moment, basking in the silence and the ambiance that surrounded them.

But of course, Billy had to ruin it.

“So, you are obsessed with me, huh?” She could feel the smirk against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

She turned away from him so fast that the wet ends of her hair slapped his face.

“Where are you going, princess?” He followed after her, long strides catching up with her faster than she wanted.

“I’m going to have a shower. If you want to join me, you can leave that bad attitude at the door along with your shoes,” She sent him a sly wink, a smirk on the lips that Billy wanted to taste once again.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and his shoes went flying into the hallway.

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[jawabear]

Hello, can I request a fic for Whiskey with prompts 58 and 70 from your prompt list

Brick Wall (Agent Whiskey x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hi. Sorry this took so long Anon! And I’m sorry it sucks! I’ve been super stressed lately and my brain is all over the place. But I hope you enjoy it. It got better as I went which is good but...I don’t know. I just feel a little all over the place. But writing helps me :) hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Prompts: 58. Please don’t cry 70. I have feelings you know

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, crying, drinking, coldness, I don’t really know, not a lot I don’t think

Summary: Finally, he gets to go on a mission with the girl he loves, but she’s not exactly gifted in the social graces like he is

“Tell me again why I’m the one who has to do this” (Y/N) groaned as she adjusted her dress. It was far too snug for her liking. But her like was to not be in a dress at all. But when attending a fancy charity ball got the sake of a mission, she was a little out of options.

“Because all other female agents are currently otherwise occupied” Ginger explained for what felt like the hundredth time to her. (Y/N) wasn’t entirely thrilled about being pulled onto a mission with the most obnoxious agent in the agency.

“You hurt me darlin’. Thought we were going to have a nice time tonight” talk of the devil. Agent Whiskey, Jack Daniels, stood in the door way of Ginger’s office.

As much as he annoyed (Y/N), she had to admit, he cleaned up good.

He stood there dressed in a specially tailored sleek black suit with a nicely pressed white shirt and black tie. He didn’t wear his signature Stetson which was a little off outing actually. But his hair was neatly slicked back, he looked pretty dashing.

But (Y/N) was good at hiding her emotions and gave him no expression as she looked him up and down.

Jack on the other hand was not as good at hiding his emotions. And when he look at her, you could read him like a book. His face said what his words couldn’t. He stared at her with his mouth open, his eyes raking up and down her body, loving the way the red dress hugged her body so perfectly. Showing off those beautiful curves she had. He had never seen her dress as such, mainly because she never had.

“Wow sweetheart..” his voice was low “you look...wow”

“Thanks” she muttered “but I feel ridiculous. Let’s just go and get it over with so I can take this stupid thing off” she slipped her gun into her thigh holster and walk past him.

Jack turned to look at Ginger who gave him a soft look in return. “What am I supposed to do?” He sighed “the woman despises me. How the fuck am I ever going to tell her how I feel?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Jack” Ginger shrugged “she’s a complicated person. And as frustrating as it may be for you, you may have to either give it up, or just tell her”

“I can’t...give it up. She’s...I’m head over heals for her”

“Then tell her. This is your chance. The perfect opportunity to tell her how you feel because it will be just the two of you”

“Yeah...I guess you’re right...”

“But in between that, make sure you complete the mission this time”

-

“This is a fucking shit-show” (Y/N) hisses under her breath “we’ve been here for nearly three hours and still no sign of any of them”

Jack downed the rest of his whiskey and placed his now empty glass on the bar he was leaning on, it being swiftly taken away by the bar tender but Jack was waved off the offer of another.

“Let’s face it Jack” she said to him “this mission is a bust. They’re not coming”

Jack nodded in agreement “I guess you’re right” he reached over and grabbed her hands pulling her towards the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” She asked him, slight anger in her voice at being dragged against her will.

“Just because they’re not going to show up, doesn’t mean we can enjoy tonight” he assumed the classic dance position. One hand joined with her and his other arm snaking around her waist in a firm grip to keep her there, but he knew she was string enough to get out of his hold without using much of her effort.

She said nothing but just glared at him. This didn’t deter him from beginning to waltz her in a small circle to the slow beat of the music being played. For a while she allowed him to dance with her, if you could really call it that. She wasn’t exactly making it easy for him. Her body was stiff, he wicked been better off dancing with a brick wall at this point. But despite that, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Even if she was being difficult, he couldn’t deny the joy just being with her brought him. How he was the one who got to see her dressed up so nicely. He didn’t have the words to describe how beautiful she looked. How well she seemed to fit in with all the stuck up rich people surrounding them, calling themselves beautiful. But no one was more deserving of that word than she was.

Still, his frustration at her lack of cooperation was growing inside him. He wasn’t one to get angry, especially not to those he liked, but she admitted herself that the mission was a bust, there was no reason why she couldn’t let her guard down.

“There’s no one here you need to impress. So you can stop being so uptight and cold” his mouth betrayed him. He didn’t want to say anything to her about it. But the words slipped out without his consent.

Her eyes went wide at his words. Her body tensed. But her shock soon switched to anger. Anger he had never seen in her eyes before, it was more of a hurt anger than anything.

“Fuck you Jack” she hissed before yanking her hands from him and turning sharply, cleverly weaving herself through the crowd of people.

He immediately regretted what he said. He didn’t mean it. Well, not really anyway. He wanted her to relax, to feel comfortable around him. He should’ve worded it better, not just straight up insult her.

For a moment he just stood there awkwardly, none of the surrounding guests seemed to pay him any attention as he stood there. But when he finally came to his senses again, he stormed off in her footsteps. He had to apologise. He had to tell her how he felt before he fucked it up even more.

The trail lead him out on to a balcony where she lent against the stone wall, the moonlight outlined her perfect body so beautifully he almost didn’t want to approach her. He just wanted to look at her for a little while longer.

But he had to say something to her. He swallowed thickly and took cautious steps in her direction. When he looked at her, he saw her head hanging low as she stared at the ground way down under them. He felt so guilty that it was because of him she looked so...hurt.

“Sweetheart-“ he tried, reaching out his hand to stroke her cheek but she swatted it away and gave him a sharp look.

“I know I don’t always act like it but I have feelings you know” she turned back away from him and lent against the railing. “I’m not...just the heartless person everyone thinks I am..”

“You’re not heartless (Y/N), no one thinks you are-“

“Oh Jack. Just fucking stop okay? You know as well as I do that everyone hates me. Everyone thinks I’m heartless and...and cold. And yeah, maybe I am. But it’s not my fault. It...it wasn’t my fault...”

Jack didn’t need her to explained herself. He knew her story inside and out. He knew about all the traumas in her past. And he knew that anyone who faced close to what she did would find it difficult to smile again.

He noticed, when he looked back at her, that a tear fell down her cheek, perfectly reflecting the pale light of the full moon above them. “(Y/N)” He said her name quietly and reached over to her cheek again, but this time she didn’t shoo him away, she let him touch her. Jack took her face in both hands, tilting her head up so their eyes met. “Please don’t cry” his thumbs brushed gently under her eyes, wiping her tears away.

In perhaps a strange way, she looked beautiful when she cried. He had never seen her cry before. The way her eyes sparkled in the moon light made his heart flutter. There was no one more beautiful than her. He could feel himself getting lost in her eyes. Just getting lost. Getting closer, closer, closer to her...

She drew in a sharp breath and pulled her face from his hands. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and looked away from him “we should...get back to the mission” she muttered before taking a few steps away from him back towards the inside of the building.

But she was stopped when a firm hand took her arm. “Fuck the mission” he told her. She looked at his over her shoulder and saw the slight glimpse of desperation in his eyes.

“What?” She whispered, a little shocked but his sudden words “Jack...we have a job to do” she didn’t attempt to worm her way from his sturdy grasp, she quite enjoyed the warm of his ridiculously large hands on her bare arm.

“Fuck the mission” he said again, “you said it yourself, it’s a bust. A shit-show. So now I just wanna spend tonight with you” Jack carefully pulled her back into his chest and resumed the dancing position from earlier.

“Jack-“ she tried but she didn’t exactly know what she wanted to say. She wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to spend a lovely night with Agent Whiskey, but they had a job to do.

“Fuck it, (Y/N). For tonight. Fuck ‘em all. I just want it to be me and you tonight. I want to show you that not everyone thinks you’re heartless. Some think you are the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the world”

“And who among the people think that, Jack?” She asked with a slightly laugh as he began to gently sway them from side to side, going in circles as well, but slowly.

“I do” he admitted “I think you’re amazing. And you are sweet. You’re kind, you’re funny, you have a mind that puts Ginger’s to shame. And you’re just the prettiest damn girl there ever has been in this world. And I-“ he cut himself of abruptly. The hopeful look in her eyes was too much for him. It made his heart pound in his chest and he would be surprised if she couldn’t hear it.

“You what?” She whispered as she gently ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

He blinked a few times and didn’t answer with words. Instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to her in a soft kiss. Into the kiss he poured every ounce of love he had for her. And she did the same back. Her hand squeezing his as she pushed her lips against his. He pulled his hand and his arm from her and took her face between them instead. Holding her lips against his for as long as possible. Her hands rested on his hips, unsure of where else to put them.

His lips fell from her, but their foreheads pressed together. “I’ve fallen for you” He whispered, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks.

She smiled. It was a faint smile, but it was there. And it was beautiful.

“I’ve fallen for you too, Jack” she said “I’m...I’m sorry about what I said...”

“It was my fault. I should be the one apologising. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said what I did”

“Jack?”

“Yeah darlin’?”

“Kiss me again”

He let out a soft chuckled and brought his lips back down onto hers “anything for you beautiful”

22/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade @harrys-stan (let me know if you wanted to be added or removed from the list)

[hiccstrxd]

a winter wonderland in spring

Behold the ice skating au no one asked for! My first multi chapter and i'm already dreading not finishing it lol. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla glided, her skates creating a grinding sound on the ice. She felt a hand coming to encircle her waist from behind, it's a feather-light touch; the jolt of electricity wasn't. There's something unspoken that hung in the air between them, a connection that hadn't been there before, a delicate balance.

Rayla is in search of a skating partner, she might have just found the one. Perhaps even more.

Ever since she can remember, a pair of skates under her feet felt like the whole universe was within her reach, and the unachievable turned achievable. It’s everything she has known, everything she has put her entire heart into. It brought her a sense of serenity and freedom, peacefulness and strength; it’s her primary source of self-confidence and gallantry. It’s part of who she is.

She first fell in love with it when her surrogate father took her for the very first time to their local ice rink as a child. The wonder in her eyes, the pure delight in her smile and the giddiness that overtook her as she saw countless skaters performing tricks and spins and footwork on the ice is something that she still remembers rather vividly. It’s what called to her, after all.

Later on, that sentiment was fueled by her father teaching her some basic moves. She didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love, but it turned out wrong because she ended up getting impossibly eager to start classes right then – which subsequently became a reality and led her to become the professional skater that she is now, twelve years later.

She was very determined even as a kid.

So she doesn’t see how this is any different. But somehow it is because then she wouldn’t be so nervous about asking for this one request (maybe because she knows the answer and dreads it).

Rayla paced back and forth in front of her coach’s office, worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth, hands shaking in anticipation. She would occasionally glance at the door — a barrier between herself and her next goal on the ice — and glare daggers for it seemed to be outright mocking her lack of resolve.

She knows she can do it, but she’s not exactly thrilled for the resistance that’s bound to come.

She raised one hand, a fist mere inches away from making contact but she couldn’t bring herself to knock. The number of times she has come after practice thinking that today would be the day she would do it just for her to end up going through this exact ritual is more often than not. No, this time she’d do it for sure. Rayla took one last deep breath, closed her eyes, and murmured encouraging words under her breath because nothing could deter her now.

And she would not go out of that office with a no for an answer.

Before Rayla could back out once again — and all the courage she had mustered could fade away — she knocked thrice at the door and it was immediately followed by a muffled come-in from the other side.

She gripped the handle and pulled, and upon seeing her coach, she squared her shoulders to make herself seem more confident than she felt.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d knock.” Runaan didn’t even bother to avert his eyes from the forms he was filling. Her posture faltered a bit, blushing at the revelation that she wasn’t being as discreet as she thought she was being. For one week straight.

“Coach,” She gave him a court nod and waited for him to pull the paperwork away. Rayla shifted uneasily on both feet while trying hard to push down the nagging turnabout of thoughts — perhaps this could have been a whole lot easier if she had decided to do this at home, Ethari would have been a nice backup if things went sour.

When she was sure she had his full attention, she cleared her throat and set her jaw, “I’ve decided I’m ready to try pair skating.”

Rayla could practically foresee his exasperated sigh and the furrowing of his eyebrows before any of them could take place. “Rayla—“

“And I know what you are going to say, but I’ve mastered all the solo techniques, spins, and jumps already. I’m a proficient single skater and my skills are one of the sharpest out there.” She looked him in the eye, staring closely for a change in his stern expression but all he did was fold his arms across his chest, leaning backward on the chair. Seeing as he made no attempt to cut in with an argument of his own, she continued on with the spiel she has been practicing beforehand for the past few weeks.

“I’m aware of the strenuous work that goes into pair skating, I know about its complexity and hardship but I feel ready. I want to do it.”

Runaan only stared at her, unmoving, with his characteristic frown whenever she decides to defy his authority (which are more times than he’d like to, she’s sure). It should make her back out. It doesn’t.

She stood firm, undeterred, doing her best to make herself look bigger under his gaze.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and intertwining his fingers together, a pensive look on his face. “A talented skater such as you should not depend on someone else. Your skills must not be at someone’s expense.”

She had expected that answer, of course, it’s what she has been hearing every time she brings the topic up during practices, dinners, and car rides. And just like the other times, Rayla had to swallow down a retort that would surely land her two weeks off the ice, which would certainly make matters worse. “It would be a crime, for the expertise you’ve got it’s too highly thought of for someone else to come and taint it. Besides, pair skating is ten times more difficult than single skating — more effort is put into each move, each trick.”

“And I’m willing to take every risk.” She said, not missing a beat. He needs to realize that she has never been more certain about something in her life. She raised her chin up, eyes solemnly staring at his, though she’s sure her nerves are pretty much transparent at this point.

Runaan blinked, clenching his jaw, brows furrowing further. “Rayla, I just don’t think it’s such a good idea for your career. I believe this could either end extremely good or extremely bad.”

“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I will do it.”

His patience was running thin. So was hers.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring in the process. “Very well, then.”

Rayla had to physically restrain herself from widening her eyes in disbelief because despite coming in here with determination in her tone and confidence in her posture, part of her had expected this reunion to be futile like the previous ones. He had always been very firm when it came to sharing his thoughts on pair skating — which he had oh-so-fondly labeled every solo skater’s doomsday — and it was clear that he had some type of reservation towards it. She envisioned nothing else but rebuttals from his part.

“Let me make several calls, ask if a skater is looking to pair. In the meantime, you can put a notice on the bulletin board or an ad on the web.” He said at last and regardless of his suggestion, his lack of enthusiasm was more or less translucent. “Heard those new databases are great search engines for a skating partner.” Runaan mumbled under his breath.

Rayla knows for a fact that, in spite of his demur and the hesitancy he’s got for pair skating, he’d still give his best to coach her — and her partner — through.

“You are dismissed.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Runaan.”

He gave her a small smile in return.

She exited his office feeling lighter on the shoulders, relaxed on the limbs, and calmer within. It was something that had been troubling her for quite some time now, and its resolution was like a breath of fresh air, a weight off her mind. Truthfully, she had been prepared to give thoroughly thought reasons to his upcoming excuses. She’s glad she hadn’t need to put those into use.

Just as the door closed behind her, a feeling of excitement came over her in full force, though she tried to contain it in as to not make a scene in the middle of the hallway. She can’t say she did the same in the enclosed quarters of her room.

Now, all that rests to do is to get to work in those ads.

How hard could it be to find a partner?

[texasconcealedcarry]

10 Reasons to Concealed Carry in 2023

So, you are considering the Reasons for Concealed Carry permit, but are having trouble justifying owning a firearm. With all the controversy that has stricken firearms ownership in recent years, it is no wonder that many are deterred from owning a concealed carry permit, much more, firearms. Unfortunately for those deterred by this media-catalyzed apprehension, the ability to remain secure while out in public is severely hindered. With crimes and riots of previous years creating severe precedents on the actions of those who would do you and your family harm, here are 10 reasons to concealed carry in 2023. Reasons to Concealed Carry in 2023: Concealed Carry is a Deterrent While the whole idea around a concealed carry permit is that it allows one to legally conceal a weapon, it still suffices as a deterrent. In the case of general firearms ownership, around 400 million firearms are owned by American citizens. While it stands, this is one of the main reasons the United States will always be less desirable to invade because of the sheer amount of firearms held by the US citizenry. Hitting it closer to home, the number of concealed carry permits has been increasing steadily, reaching 2.3% gains in 2022 from the previous year. It is important to note that while concealed carry does not act as a direct deterrent from violent assailants, the fact that concealed carry is becoming much more common in society increases the perceived cost of a violent interaction. This means that a potential assailant might think twice about you having a gun or not because of efforts to make concealed carry commonplace. In many ways, it is similar to the idea of a danger sign alerting someone of danger even though there may not be any perceivable danger. Fact that a concealed firearm is not meant to be visible at all, a potential assailant may be deterred by even the notion his potential victim may be carrying a weapon. Understand Firearms better Owning a Firearm is one thing, but ensuring you are trained properly enough to use it in the field is an entirely different story. Concealed carry is a practice that demands a lot of respect for firearms and the lethal force that comes with each pull of the trigger. Many new CWP holders will have everything they need to legally carry, but will still hold off out of the fear of having to use the firearm to potentially incapacitate someone with lethal force. There is a heavy toll that comes with the responsibility of concealed carry and general firearms ownership that must be respected to keep yourself and others around you safe. Any safe gun owner would be the first to say that a firearm is due a great deal of respect when handling. Gun safety is crucial at all points in time, yet might not be blatantly clear to those just beginning the process of gun ownership and concealed carry. While much of it may seem obvious - don’t put a gun at someone, make sure the chamber is empty, etc - both injury and death by accidental suicide are very real issues. Fortunately, the process of owning a CWP requires an adept level of knowledge, most of which is learned during the concealed weapon course necessary to take before the card is even printed.  For first-time gun owners, this is especially important. Much of the information that is available in these classes is about general firearms use and safety, helping people gain more insight and confidence with firearms that are useful in both the home and out in public. CWP Over Cops Now we aren’t knocking esteemed law enforcement officers, but we are alluding to a very real problem in the length of time it takes law enforcement to arrive at the scene of a crime. The time: eleven minutes, is ages compared to the mere seconds a violent altercation can take to turn in favor of the criminal. Using your right to concealed carry gives you the advantage of taking your safety into your own hands, mitigating the reliance on LEOs who will only ever be able to respond to crimes that have already happened. Now as we stated before, we are not mocking law enforcement, but pointing out that law enforcement is seldom able to arrive at the scene of a crime that is still being committed. Those precious minutes spent could mean the difference between an abduction, a murder, or a life saved. Even from a historical standpoint, the reliance on others for self-defense is very new and has been the topic of much scrutiny over the past few years, especially when concerning efforts to disarm citizens. CCW is better than other self-defense tools Chances are if you have been looking into useful forms of self-defense, you have come across a slew of videos, products, and services, all designed to help you demolish any oncoming threat in any situation. Gadgets like pepper spray, tasers, and gimmicky knuckle devices are pitched to those who are still too apprehensive about diving into the world of a concealed weapon permit. Self-defense classes and the like are largely marketed toward women who think they are getting valuable information on how to incapacitate unarmed assailants in a variety of situations. Unfortunately, the problem with all of these methods is that they are either tools or methods that rely on being very close to a potential assailant. The level of danger, and by extension, your ability to come out of a violent altercation safely is dramatically reduced by both the proximity to the assailant and the length of time the altercation takes to end. With a CCW, all that is required is basic know-how. What’s more is that practice only makes your chances of success greater, whereas the margin of error remains the same with non-lethal forms of self-defense like the ones mentioned above. The fact is, if you or someone else is about to be the victim of a violent crime, the absolute best thing you can do is carry a concealed weapons permit. Concealed Carry Helps Awareness Situational awareness in public is of the utmost importance whether concealed carrying or not. That being said, one of the most crucial aspects of concealed carry is a strong awareness of one's surroundings. Situational awareness is so important because a lack of awareness will result in a lack of preparedness against an oncoming threat. This will cost valuable time, and in extreme cases could result in a very dangerous disarm. Remaining aware is the first step to general safety in public. However, it does not get people out of every situation. Owning a CWP and a CCW and using them is entirely different. Fortunately, there are ways to mitigate the potential threat without utilizing lethal force against another person, which is all done through the very important development of situational awareness. Protect Your Family One of the most sacred duties of a parent is the preservation of the family, be that by working and supplying food, or by using lethal force against an armed assailant who has broken into your home. A concealed weapons permit is one of the best ways to do that, both on the road and in public where many crimes are capable of happening. Oftentimes, a concealed carry weapon is equally suitable for use in the home, with many handguns offering subcompact versions and higher calibers to incapacitate armed predators. Concealed Carry Gives Tactical Advantage While many people agree with the arguments made in favor of open carry, concealed carry provides a trump card that open carry never could: the element of surprise. You might be asking what kind of advantage this might give you, and fortunately, the answer is very simple. While many blankly assume that open carry provides a better deterrent from violent interactions, this is not entirely true, as the firearm itself becomes a target. Or you may even become a target because you have the firearm on your person. While it is still available for use in self-defense, you may yet still be attacked, especially if the assailant feels like they are going to succeed in disarming you. This rarely happens in instances of concealed carry because a permit holder might be attacked and has nothing to do with the weapon they are hiding in their hip. You might be surprised to find that you might feel a little safer concealed carrying over open carrying because of the spike in attention that normally comes with open carry. You are near a high-crime area Whether your commute takes you to the not-so-great part of town or your work is based in a high-crime area, owning a CCW may be the deciding factor between going home, or going to the hospital. That’s not a threat, but understanding that the threat of being in a high-crime area for an extended amount of time increases potential danger drastically is important. That being said, if you live in, work in, or travel through an area of high crime, a CCW and CWP will be the best options for mitigating potential threats. There are some tricks to picking out potential threats as they come in public. All successful self-defense altercations begin with situational awareness. The inability to be surprised, the detection of possible assailants before they reach your proximity, and the vigilance of standing your ground when the time comes are all important pieces to this fast-paced puzzle called self-defense. In this case, it is not just about owning a CWP, but gaining more knowledge on the area you live and work in, to better gauge threats that might be lingering around you. Getting a CWP is easy and affordable Despite the higher demand for them, CWP and LTC classes have remained ever so affordable. With accessibility over the internet becoming much more user-friendly and intuitive, people from all around can endeavor to take the journey toward defending their families and loved ones. What’s more is the value of concealed carry permits in other states, although research must be done to gauge which states share reciprocity with which CWP. The fact remains that for a typically decent price and a small fee for the fingerprint and signature, you can be an armed citizen standing your ground in the face of the abominable criminals that prey on the weak. It is Your Right to Carry For many, it is a responsibility to loved ones, the desire to protect one property, and the fear of becoming a victim that urges people to opt in for CWPs. However, some take their safety into their own hands because it is a right protected by the United States Constitution. In a world of countries whose people are not afforded the same right to keep and bear arms, as Americans, it is important to not only use that right but to preserve it for other generations to come. Conclusion Concealed carry has become a commonplace practice in the United States, making it more desirable for beginners to hop into. It is great for new gun owners to start as they will receive vital information about the general use of firearms while providing them with the ability to protect themselves and loved ones at home or in public. Owning a concealed weapons permit is the best option compared to other non-lethal forms of self-defense and makes for much better use of money than self-defense classes that do not utilize firearms training at all. Here at the Concealed Carry Academy, we take your right and ability to preserve and protect yourself and your loved ones very seriously. Providing class fees for both LTC and CCW purposes, we make sure that standing your ground against violent criminals is not only affordable but engaging and informative as well. Click here to take control of your safety now! Read the full article

[thatgirlonstage]

I'd be very interested in a ficlet about the Witcher daemon AU you messaged me about a while back, if that's something you ever meant to actually write out. 👀👀👀 If not that, then, hmmm, some soft geraskier, maybe with this sentence from a prompt list that went around: "Is that my shirt?"

I got too into writing Sad Jaskier Hours + puppy therapy and the length got away from me but here is that inciting scene I talked about, in full prose

(And now that I’ve done this one scene I feel freer to do more stuff in this AU, so more later possibly)

Witcher & HDM fans please forgive me my lore sins, I have only seen the Netflix Witcher and I haven’t read HDM in like over decade, so please hand wave any wrongness as crossover changes

———

The words still stung.

They felt physical, still crawling over Jaskier’s skin like ants four days since he had come down the mountain. Whenever I find myself in a pile of shit, it’s you, shoveling it. He half expected to wake up to them tattooed across his arms like the mark of a pariah. “Stay away from this one. No one who knows him wants him around.”

Geralt was prickly and stubborn and rude and what friendship Jaskier got from him came quietly. It came in his perfect recollection of all the stories Jaskier told him, no matter how inconsequential or how much he professed to be annoyed by Jaskier’s prattling. It came in those rare, sardonic smiles Jaskier had gotten better at drawing out over the years. It came in his acquiescence to let Jaskier wash his hair whenever they could afford hot baths, in the yellow-eyed glare he sent anyone who tried to cheat Jaskier at cards, in the way his shoulders would relax and he would start humming along under his breath when Jaskier practiced music by their shared campfire. It came in the softest press of lips against his forehead, when Geralt finally came back from Yennefer’s the night after the djinn and thought Jaskier was asleep. Until the mountain, Jaskier had thought it came in the lack of any serious objection to his presence, in the way Geralt seemed to take it for granted that they would travel together for a while each time they ran across each other. Now, he was starting to wonder if he had misunderstood. He was starting to wonder if he had misunderstood a lot of things, and only imagined others.

He poked listlessly at his fire. His lute sat with his pack, untouched for a week. Kazia, his daemon, perched on a fallen log opposite him, preening her feathers for lack of anything else to do. Even she had been almost entirely silent the last four days, making none of her usual songbird chirps as she and Jaskier made their lonely way back—Jaskier wasn’t even sure where he was going. Away. That was all. Away.

Some rustling in the woods made his back stiffen. He tossed another log on the fire, hoping to deter whatever was out there. It had been a while since he’d camped this far out in the woods without Geralt to scare off anything that stalked the nights. He’d been so unable to face running into Yen or Geralt or even the gossip about them back in town that he’d just struck off into the wilderness. Hopefully that piece of stupidity wouldn’t be enough to actually kill him.

He held out a finger for Kazia, and she hopped onto it. He deposited her on his shoulder. “Fuck him, right?” he asked. Despite his best effort he found no flippancy to put into his voice, only bitterness.

“He didn’t mean it,” she said. “You know he didn’t.”

“No,” Jaskier said. He poked the fire, flipping over a log, sending a burst of sparks skyward. “I wish he didn’t mean it.” He leaned back, careful not to jostle Kazia on his shoulder, bracing his palms on the ground. Tilting his head up, he could see the light of a few stars, just managing to poke through the canopy. “I tried,” he said, and hated the crack in his voice. “I’ve been trying for so long but— what else could I have said? What else could I have done?”

She nuzzled her head against his cheek. “I don’t know, Jask. Maybe nothing. I’m sorry.”

He kept staring up at the stars. Silence fell again, Geralt’s final terrible words scraping him raw.

Witchers didn’t have daemons. When people said they felt nothing, had nothing human left in them, they pointed to that fact. You couldn’t possibly be human without a daemon. Even the likes of elves and dwarves had daemons. Witchers were monsters in the shell of something that had once been human.

Jaskier thought that was a load of horseshit. He hadn’t wavered on that point. Geralt had his own fears and feelings and wants like anyone else. Jaskier was just beginning to believe he might have misinterpreted what some of those feelings were.

He nudged Kazia to get off his shoulder and pulled his blankets up. Blankets, plural, because his own had proven woefully inadequate for the mountain and Geralt had, with a grumble, come over in the middle of the night to the miserably shivering Jaskier and dumped a thick, scratchy wool blanket over him, and when Jaskier had protested, Geralt had said it wasn’t cold enough for him to need it, and then Jaskier had forgotten he had it before he fled. Gave him a blanket, and then a day later screamed for fate to get Jaskier out of his life. Jaskier hadn’t quite managed to parse that yet. It hurt too much to look at.

“Do you expect me to keep watch?” Kazia quipped. “I can hear something moving around out there. I don’t like it.”

Jaskier curled his hands around the blanket, tugging it around himself. “Hopefully the fire is enough to scare it off,” he said. “I need to sleep or we won’t be able to make any progress tomorrow.” He turned, a little petulantly, on his side, facing away from Kazia. “It’s not like I can do anything if something decides to come eat us, even if I am awake.”

He heard the flutter of her wings as she took off into the low branches of the nearest tree. “Sleep lightly all the same,” she told him.

Jaskier didn’t respond, tugging his knees up to his chest, closing his eyes, and willing the world to disappear for a while.

**

Kazia’s frantic chirping woke him with a start.

“Jaskier! JASKIER! Jaskier WAKE UP!”

He blinked his eyes open, squinting in the dim light of the dying embers of the fire, and found himself staring directly at a giant white wolf.

He shot up and back in instinctive terror, hands scraping against rocks and roots. “Geralt—!” he squeaked, on reflex, and felt his heart twist somewhere beneath the terror as he remembered no Witcher slept beside him. Kazia was fluttering frantically around his head. He stared at the wolf. The wolf stared back.

It was a gigantic thing, its shoulder probably higher than Jaskier’s hip if he were to stand next to it. It was white from head to toe, shining like a ghost in the firelight. Its eyes gleamed yellow, a misplaced pang to Jaskier’s heart. Something about it felt off, not-quite-a-wolf, almost as if it were a daemon, but that didn’t seem right either. He wondered for a moment if it were a mage’s daemon — out here apparently alone as it was — but that wasn’t right either. He’d met Yen’s daemon, a sleek black feline thing with four eyes and two tails. He’d known it for daemon instantly, despite its strangeness. This wolf just seemed not quite right, somehow. He tried and failed to place it in Geralt’s endless bestiary, and came up blank. If there was a monster that looked almost exactly like a wolf but wasn’t one, Jaskier hadn’t heard of it. At least it wasn’t eating him. Yet.

He stayed frozen for a long few minutes, he and the wolf just staring at each other. Kazia landed on his shoulder, puffing herself up as much as she could, her claws digging in just shy of breaking skin. He tried to calm his thundering heart. Maybe the wolf would just go away. Maybe it had smelled what meager rations Jaskier had left. Should he make a go for his saddlebags and toss his last piece of salted beef at it? Would it attack him if he moved?

The wolf did not leave, nor did it attack him. Instead, after a long enough pause that Jaskier was afraid they’d be stuck at this impasse all night, it ducked its head and whined. It shifted forward, almost cautiously, as if it wanted to avoid spooking him. It snuffled around his feet, at his blanket, and whined again. It took another step closer. Then, to Jaskier’s terror, it butted its head into his chest.

Jaskier inhaled sharply, quickly, trying not to hyperventilate. The wolf whined again, one ear flicking. It moved its head back and butted against him again — not with any force, just pressing its head into Jaskier. It reminded him of...

“Do... do you... want... pets?”

His voice sounded hysterically high in his own ears, but the strained tone didn’t seem to scare the wolf. It butted into him again and whined emphatically, almost a quiet howl. Very, very tentatively, Jaskier lifted one hand and, telegraphing his movement so the wolf could pull away, gave the wolf a quick little scratch behind the ear.

The wolf gave a little huff and — of all fucking things — wagged its tail. It whined and turned its head into Jaskier’s hand, so Jaskier gave it a longer scratch this time. He could still feel Kazia’s heart thumping a million miles an hour, but her panic had abated somewhat. She hopped off his shoulder and onto his head, letting him lift his other arm to pet the wolf’s side. Up close, now that Jaskier could focus on something besides just size and eyes and teeth, the wolf seemed nearly pitiful. It was far too skinny beneath its fur, with mangy patches here and there. He caught sight of a line of scratches across its haunches. One eye looked crusty and swollen, as if it were infected.

“Poor thing,” Jaskier murmured. “Did you get left all alone too?”

The wolf howled, a low and piteous sound. It butted its head against his chest again and pressed into him. Jaskier wrapped his arms around the wolf, taking comfort he hadn’t wanted to admit he was craving in its solidity and warmth.

“Jask...” Kazia took off from his head again. “I don’t know if I like this. I thought she was a daemon at first but she’s not. I’ve never been mistaken about that before. I’ve never even heard of anyone being mistaken about that before.”

“She?” Jaskier leaned sideways, peeking between the wolf’s legs.

“That’s not the point!”

“I know, I know.” Jaskier leaned back from the wolf, getting another look into her face. “You’re... not a daemon, are you? You can’t be, you wouldn’t have come up and asked for pets if you were a daemon.” The wolf looked back at him, her gaze almost too steady for mere animal intelligence, but she didn’t speak, and no one jumped out from behind a tree to strangle Jaskier for molesting their daemon. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he murmured. The wolf only whined and pawed at the blanket where it had pooled on Jaskier’s lap. “You want to sleep with the blanket and the fire, I bet. I don’t blame you, it’s cold out there tonight.”

“Jaskier!” Kazia wailed. He looked over and shrugged helplessly at her.

“Do you want to tell the giant wolf to go off and mind her own business?” he hissed. “If she were going to eat me, I think she’d have done it by now.” He looked back at the wolf, one finger still idly scratching behind her ear. “You promise you’re not going to eat me?” The wolf huffed, blowing in his face. Jaskier, for the first time since he’d arrived at that godforsaken mountain, laughed. “I think she’s telling me I’d taste bad,” he said to Kazia. “You’re probably right,” he confided in the wolf. “I haven’t had a proper hot bath in two weeks.” The wolf huffed in his face again.

Kazia fluttered down to a nearby branch, and then again to the log she’d been on before, and then up near the wolf. The wolf looked at her, her gaze steady. Kazia landed on the wolf’s head.

“Kazia!” Jaskier yelped, but the wolf went still, and then let out another very quiet howl. Jaskier felt Kazia soften, saw her feather down smooth.

“Oh,” she said. “She’s so sad.” She looked up at Jaskier. “I still don’t know what she is but— I’ve never heard a sound that sad.” Jaskier’s fingers curled into the wolf’s fur. He leaned forward, resting against her shoulder.

“That makes all three of us,” he said. “A fine group of sad, lonely outcasts, hmm?” He shifted, trying to spread the blanket so the wolf could lie on some it without leaving Jaskier cold and exposed. Kazia took off again, landing back on her perch on the branch. “Here,” he said to the wolf, patting the blanket. “You can stay the night with us, if you want.” The wolf’s tail wagged again — just a brief lash back and forth — and then it turned itself in a circle, settling down against Jaskier’s side.

He was not going to cry for how all the times he had wished Geralt would lie down beside him, to keep him warm in the night. But he curled a hand in the wolf’s fur and let himself be lulled by her quiet breaths. “You know,” he mumbled, just on the cusp of sleep, “if Geralt did have a daemon, I bet she’d look exactly like you.”

**

After breaking camp the next morning, Jaskier got barely a hundred paces before he found the carnage.

The graveir’s throat was torn out — arduously, ripped along the edges, its thick skin snagged again and again until its head was all but severed from its body. It smelled of rot, its fingers were bloody, and it had white wolf hair sticking out of its wounds. The wolf gave a quiet whine when Jaskier froze at the sight of the thing. He glanced down at her, back at the graveir, and back at the wolf.

“Did—” He swallowed thickly. “Did you do that?” he asked. The wolf looked up at him and barked once. She stalked over to the graveir, growling at its body. Jaskier felt suddenly very faint. He steadied himself against a tree. Kazia flitted around his head, concern radiating off her.

“That thing got so close to our campsite,” she said. “Way too close.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, not quite hearing himself. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Hey,” he called the wolf back over, and gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Good girl,” he told her. “Very good girl.” He looked up at Kazia. “I think she ought to come along as long as she wants to.” Kazia flitted down to land on his shoulder, puffing herself up territorially.

“As long as she understands that I’m your daemon.” Jaskier almost smiled, and tickled a finger over her head.

“Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite, Zizi,” he teased. He glanced down at the wolf again. She was smiling, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was clearly enjoyed the scratches. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. She howled in response, that low, piteous noise from last night, as if she dared not be any louder. Jaskier stood back up, hefting his pack, shifting the lute case against his back. “Right. I am not spending another night almost getting eaten alive, so let’s try and find the road again today.”

He traipsed off through the woods, leaving the mangled graveir behind him, Kazia flitting about his head and the mysterious wolf loping along at his side.

—————

(if it’s not super clear, that 100% is Geralt’s daemon. the conceit is that in this world part of becoming a witcher is being severed from your daemon, but Geralt’s escaped after that happened and she’s been wandering the wilderness. she’s lost a lot of herself, which is why she can’t speak and it’s iffy how much she understands, but she still remembers the smell of her lost human :’) and hopes that Jaskier can lead her back to him)

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 7

Story Index - All my stories in one place.

Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |  Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

***

As soon as the camera angle changed, presumably someone in the news control room had realised they were showing a possibly dead woman under intensive CPR and had cut away, Anna and Carl started to get prepared. Carl called out for his team to join him in Trauma 4, the other rooms already claimed by those doctors who were scheduled for today. There was fewer of them than normal, a few of the nurses already occupied with minor injuries or the other trauma rooms. Zainab was also occupied by the cubicles, sheer practicality making her more useful with the minor injuries that don't need a fully qualified emergency doctor to double-check.

Anna and Carl were joined by Kirstie, Roger, and Trish. It would be enough for now; they could also call for additional help if they needed it when their patient arrived. Carl looked at them, figuring out a plan.

"We all saw what we're dealing with. Cold water drowning, clearly no pulse. Don't expect it to be any different when they arrive here. Our priorities are maintaining artificial circulation and oxygenation while we warm her up. We need to go fast, but careful. The last thing we need is to trigger rewarming collapse. Kirstie, I want you get in touch with Cardio-thoracics and with Nephrology, I want an ECMO or a dialysis machine, both can heat her blood directly, so either will do. We'll also need warmed saline, a lot of it Roger, I want to get a warmed gastric lavage going as soon as we can and depending on her temperature, we may need to consider a thoracic lavage too."

Anna cringed slightly at that. A thoracic lavage would involve sticking tube through their patient’s chest wall. It was brutal, but effective. Carl was continuing.

"Anna, Trish, get the temperature vest set up too, warm her from inside and out. Remember everyone, we have time. We do not give up until she is warm, understood?" The team all nods. "Ok, let’s get ready people." Carl finished, the others all going about their tasks. Trish went to get the temperature vest from Trauma 1, giving Anna a few moments alone with Carl.

"You sound confident." Anna told him as they stepped out of the way of the others.

He shrugged. "We have every reason to be. We have the equipment, the skills, and the circumstances favour us. Cold water drowning discovered almost instantly? It's not a guarantee, but in our line of work? It's the best damn odds we could ask for." He looked at her seeing her far off gaze. "Are you doing ok?" He asked.

She nodded slowly, then looked back at him, with a sharper nod. "Yeah. Just doing what you said." Her voice went quieter, just between the two of them. "Accepting it. Using it."

Carl nodded slowly. "Ok. Let me know if it gets too much. You can take a step back if you need to." He told her, keeping his own voice quiet.

Anna slipped her hand into his and they gave a mutual squeeze. Then, Trish came into the room with the bulky vest and Anna went to help her. They laid it on the trauma bed, spread open, ready and waiting for them. To Anna it looked inviting, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in it. At this point she would normally feel ashamed and try to bury the thought. This time, she didn't try to eradicate it. Instead, she filed it away. Something to think about later, maybe...even do later. She thought back to her unit on psychology during nursing school. Using rewards to encourage behaviour. If they succeeded, she would ask Carl if he could 'tinker' with one over the rest of the weekend, they were his experiment after all, maybe they could be her reward.

She shook her head, dispelling the fantasy and disguising the small smile on her face, as if she were trying to shake a stray lock of hair out of her eyes while she was setting the control panel on the pump unit, which they had hooked to the end of the bed. The had just finished arranging the hoses so they wouldn't be an obstruction when a receptionist stuck her head into the trauma room.

"We just got a 2-minute warning on the casualty." She announced.

"Thanks" Carl dismissed her, looking to the rest of his team. Kirstie was still on the phone in the corner, and she shrugged at Carl's questioning look. "Keep trying, everyone else, let's get out front."

* * *

Lucy kept on rocking her body weight forward and backward, keeping her shoulders and elbows locked, hands planted between Shona's pale breasts. Each time she leant forward, her hands pressed down the drowned young woman’s sternum 2 inches, squeezing Shona's stopped heart, pushing blood out of it and around her body. When Lucy rocked backwards, Shona's ribs sprang back also, releasing the pressure on her heart and allowing it to refill with blood.

Lucy did this over and over and over again, keeping the blood flowing. Keeping hope alive.

She'd heard the driver call out the minute warning. She was aware of Dave hooking things to the gurney and moving around her. She was also aware of the burning in her arms, the lead weight feeling of lactic acid build up. It was a long, excruciating minute. But Lucy never faltered. Shona's ribs bent inwards 100 times in that minute. Each perfect compression forced her abdomen to roll and her shoulders to pop. Her feet swayed and her head bobbed as the force of the compressions translated through her body. It was brutal, what her body was enduring. But that brutality was the only chance she had.

Lucy felt the entire ambulance tilt as it swung into the hospital grounds, felt the inertia tugging her as the brakes squealed and brought the ambulance to a stop. She ignored it all, maintaining her compressions until she saw the blur out the corner of her eye as Anna mounted the gurney, straddling Shona's unresponsive body. Just like they had done two days ago, and so many times before, Anna gave a short countdown before Lucy drew back her hands, Anna planted her own, and Shona's chest continued to be compressed.

The gurney was pulled from the back of the ambulance, Dave squeezing the Ambu-bag regularly, and was rushed towards the emergency entrance. Lucy let them go. She dropped onto the bench, flexing her aching fingers and breathing deeply to pay off the oxygen debt. She shook her arms out, then looked at the man beside her. Jones was still wrapped tightly in the blanket and was staring out after the gurney that had already disappeared around a corner and vanished from sight.

"Come on Jones, you need to get to checked over." She told him, dragging herself to her feet. She helped him from the back of the ambulance, despite the exhaustion she was feeling, and led him toward the entrance. An observer would have struggled to tell which was helping the other, and Lucy was grateful to the porter who ran over with a wheelchair, easing Jones into it before she pushed him into the busy triage area, leaning heavily on the handles herself.

* * *

 The wind had eased to a stiff breeze, though it still cut straight through you, in the hour since Shona had fatefully boarded the now sunk Beetle. Yet, none of the team that had assembled outside the sliding door was shivering. Their collective adrenaline rush banished the cold. There was a tension, but it was that invigorating kind of tension, rather than a panic fuelled one. They knew they were up to the task. Their determination was written all over their faces. So, they stood, filled with an anticipation that grew in intensity as the sirens of the ambulance grew louder. Like the legendary warrior, calmly waiting to enter an arena, their own kind of battle was about to begin, and they radiated the same serenity. The same clarity of purpose. The same capacity to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

The siren reached a crescendo, with an accompaniment of squealing tires, as the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay. Anna waited a beat, then stepped forward, giving Roger and Trish just enough time to pull open the rear doors of the ambulance, before she planted her foot on the step, lined herself up, and vaulted onto the gurney. Her knees made the metallic blanket crinkle as she landed softly and shuffled her knees forward. She gave the countdown, and as soon as Lucy's hands left the patients sternum, Anna snapped hers into position.

Even through her blue gloves, Anna could feel just how cold the young woman was. Her ghostly pale skin seemed to pull the warmth out of Anna's hands in an instant. It did not deter the nurse. She began her initial round of compressions. The first press was firm and harsh, to gauge the resistance of her patient’s chest, then those that followed were perfectly judged, pushing in the ideal two inches and drawing back fully in under a second. The gurney moving beneath her had no effect on Anna. She was in her zone. This, this was what she was born to do, and nothing, internal or external, could disturb her rhythm as she put all her effort into delivering the best chest compressions she could to the young woman who lay pulseless between her legs.

As she settled into her task, she became more aware of what was going on around her. She heard the whistling of the flatlined monitor, and she heard Carl say something loudly. He was clearly asking for details, as Anna began to hear the response from the paramedic who was pushing the gurney with one hand, while he squeezed the Ambu-bag that was connected to a breathing tube with the other.

"This is Shona. Trapped and immersed in near freezing water. Immersion resulted in asphyxiation via drowning. Due to the water temperature she's profoundly hypothermic, skin temperature of just 23C. She's been in respiratory and cardiac arrest for between 18 and 25 minutes, confirmed asystole for 5 of those, but likely much longer.  Resuscitation attempts started 14 minutes ago, with no response. She also has a closed fracture to her left tibia. We cleared her lungs and intubated 8 minutes ago, applied chemical heat packs and warmed saline as much as we could. Throughout she's had a palpable pulse with compressions, so major internal bleeding is unlikely."

Carl nodded through the report, and Anna knew he was taking in everything, filing it away in his mind, able to recall every detail at a moment’s notice, to the point that the chart Roger was making notes on would be for later doctors, not for the ER team. At the edges of her vision Anna saw black tarmac turn into the marble effect veneered flooring that ran through the ER and almost every other hospital, school and government building in the western world. During those moments Carl was processing what he had been told, and then he began to give orders.

"Right, let's carry on as planned. Get her into Trauma 4 and get her in the TMV. I want a central line in addition to those bilateral IVs, and I want wide bore access in one of her legs, ready for extracorporeal warming. Let's get an NG tube inserted too, bi-directional for the gastric lavage. Let's get a core temp before we consider surgical intervention though." Carl briefly held his fingers against Shona's femoral pulse point, his wrist resting against Anna's calf. "Good pulse with compressions Anna, keep it up, but let's also get a Lucas ready, this could be a long one people!" He said, a tone to his voice that instilled confidence and re-doubled their determination.

They were going to get their patient back. Shona, Anna reminded herself, looking at the girl beneath her, forcing her name into the front of her mind.  She had a cute face, even with pale skin and blue lips, that much was clear. The tape holding the ET tube also pulled at the corner of her mouth, forming a grimace, as though she could feel each brutal compression that Anna delivered.  Not that Anna was deterred. She was going to do everything she could to get Shona back. To see those lips pink instead of blue. Smiling instead of a forced grimace. She wasn't alone in those thoughts. The whole team was feeling the same way as they guided the gurney into the Trauma Wing and crashed through the doors into Trauma 4.

[ddarker-dreams]

Trips. Yan Illumi x Reader [COMM]

Life brings with it new situations, impeding obstacles that need to be overcome. 

Flexibility is the trait that allows such things to be navigated properly, to accept and work with the cards that you’ve been dealt. Unfortunately for you, this character trait has always seemed to be one of your greatest fallacies. 

Why this incontestable fact wasn’t enough to deter Illumi, you would never know for certain. Determined is the word you found to fit his likeness the best. Illumi sought out on the long and cumbersome journey of sculpting you into his ideal masterpiece, chipping away at elements unfitting of his taste; while emphasizing any desirable traits. 

Dehumanizing as it is, it’s your new reality. One that you never expected to be a chapter in the book of your life, if not the falling action and conclusion now all together. But, as inflexible as you are at times, you can still attempt to make the most of it in your own way.

Having already offered any serious forms of opposition, you quickly learned the petty endeavors would ultimately be pointless. Illumi never so much as blinked at any of your trite attempts at upsetting him, not taking the offenses as seriously as you hoped. Maybe that was for the best, as he’d still reprimand you despite seeming unaffected. 

“Aina,” you invite over in a low tone. “Can you come here for a moment?” 

There isn’t any reason to voice your desires in a polite manner, seeing as the Zoldyck butlers would carry out your every reasonable whim without complaint. Even if they held the key to freeing you from this grandiose prison, you still couldn’t find it within yourself to harbor any serious resentment against them. 

Even if they did come to their senses, and ever tried to assist you, you didn’t want to imagine what the consequences would be for such an offense.

“Do you need something, Master [First]?” 

Aina appears next to you faster than the human eye could comprehend, her serious gaze set wholly upon you. Aina was who Illumi assigned to be your personal butler during your first few days here, someone who has become a familiar face. You had asked her before for her age, only to learn she was only a year older than you. 

Illumi most likely picked her out for that very reason, wanting to “ease” the transition into your new life. 

Aina sports a well cared for bob, having light brunette hair and honey colored eyes. It seems you fell right into Illumi’s trap, feeling a kindling of friendship with her. Even if it wasn’t formed in a natural way, a friend is a friend. 

Leaning back in the garden chair, a soft noise leaves your lips as you stretch your stiff muscles. The relaxing sounds of nature always felt like a welcome change of pace. You’ve always expressed your preference for the gardens in the Zoldyck estate, preferring them greatly over the Gothic style mansion. 

The air out here feels lighter, the sun inviting as it gently kisses your skin. Different cries from exotic creatures you couldn’t even begin to name fill your ears, along with the sounds of running water from the fountains. 

Aina waits by your side ever so patiently, while your mind is full of these thoughts.

Sheepishly looking up at her through your eyelashes, you smile. “I have a bit of a request, actually.” 

She’s capable of picking up on every nuance to your words, of reading all the twitches of your muscles and knowing what emotions they indicate. In a way, it almost reminds you of Illumi. But whereas Illumi would exploit this telling information for his own gain, Aina uses it only to serve you better.

“If by chance I’m asking for too much, just let me know,” you request, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. At this you notice her jawline tightening, most likely anticipating the worst. “It’s been on my mind to get some new decorations to spruce up my room. Not to say I dislike the whole, vampires living in the 1800s look, but it’s a tad dreary.” 

Aina’s lips quirk up, before she swiftly changes to a neutral look once more. 

“Since I can’t really use the internet, it’s not like I can do online shopping. And I’d feel bad for someone having to deliver it on a mountain too. So how do I go about this? Is there like a special Zoldyck amazon that I can use, but no one has told me about yet?” 

At any hints of humanity Aina offers, you find it easier to talk without holding yourself back. Being all doom and gloom nonstop is tiring after all, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches. Even if that phrase most likely is not intended for being forced into marriage with an assassin, it could still apply here, right? 

“If I’m being honest with you, I’m not entirely sure,” Aina places a tentative hand to her chin, eyes narrowing in deep thought. “I’d need to contact Master Illumi for his instructions. Do you want me to do so now?” 

At the mention of your husband’s name, you frown. Even if you were expecting your request to be run through multiple channels for permission to be granted, it doesn’t soothe the sting any less. Most things in your life, if not everything, are controlled entirely by Illumi. 

Puffing your cheeks out in mild annoyance, you can’t help but sigh dejectedly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I don’t have much of a choice if I want to get my pink sheets…” 

Aina doesn’t so much as flinch at your thinly veiled sarcasm, instantly getting herself to work with the matter at hand. You find yourself watching her carefully as Aina reaches for the black phone in her pocket. If you remember correctly, Aina had informed you that Illumi is on his way back from a job that had him absent a week. 

Seeing as he must be in transit, you assume Aina has the green light to contact him whenever necessary without the concern of impeding on his work. 

With the press of a button, you hear a low dialing tone come from her phone. One ring later you hear him pick up, Aina’s posture straightening even more than it was before out of respect. Tilting your head at the half heard exchange before you, you’re unable to determine much from Aina’s stoic facade.

Eventually, she pulls the phone away from her head. Before you get the opportunity to ask if you’re in the clear, she holds the phone out in your direction. 

“Master Illumi wishes to speak with you.” 

At this instruction, you swallow thickly. Speaking to Illumi is always a tricky battle, his words blunt yet crafted all the same. Aina subtly nudges the phone forward once more, prompting you to gingerly pick it up. Placing it against your ear, you bite your lip before finally speaking. Not wanting to give off the impression of being frightened, you put your all into sounding casual.

“So uh, what’s up?” you inquire to him, looking down at your tea cup. By now it’s undoubtedly cold, the amber colored liquid held in a fine china worth more than you could imagine. The desire to fiddle with your hands overwhelms you, so you reach for the handle. 

At your voice, Illumi responds immediately in his signature deadpan. “Aina mentioned you wanted to go shopping.” 

‘Is this… newsworthy or something?’

“Yeah, I thought it could be a nice change of pace,” you let out an airy laugh, your grip on the handle growing tighter. Even when Illumi isn’t face to face with you, you still can’t help but feel nervous. “It’d make me happy. But I understand if it’s too unreasonable.” 

You sit awaiting a response, hearing nothing but the propellers of the blimp Illumi must be travelling on. Does that mean he’s considering it? There’s always a chance he has already made up his mind, but wants to give the impression of taking your feelings into account. It’s a creepy tick you noticed he has, trying to act more human for your sake. 

“Alright. We’ll go when I get back this evening,” Illumi eventually concludes, much to your surprise. “You can hand the phone back to Aina now.” 

Nodding your head despite him not being able to see you, you give the dark phone back to Aina who stands in waiting. She takes it before confirming a few more minor details, and then ultimately ending the phone call. It’s strange, you believe, that such a mild request requires so many moving parts. Whether it be Illumi’s suffocatingly protective nature over you, or the cost of being a Zoldyck, you’re unsure. 

Aina busies herself with contacting other butlers at your behest, most likely planning out in great length how everything will work. If it weren’t for being held here against your will, you might even feel bad for all the effort they’re putting in for your sake. But even if it’s a small one, this is a victory nonetheless! 

Having been with Illumi for over a year now, you quickly picked up on what you should and shouldn’t do. Even when you’re upset with him, which you can’t help but be a majority of the time; it’s in your best interest to not show it. A few snarky quips here and there don’t do much damage, but anything other than that can place you in boiling hot water.

Illumi had expressed to you in the past a similar sentiment. That once you adjust to your new life, things will flow a lot smoother for you. Now the fruits of your labor are starting to show, you believe. If he’s placing enough trust in you to do this, then maybe, just maybe; you can have even more freedoms over time.

Once Aina looks to be free for a moment, you begin to speak to her again.

“You know, in the past when I wanted to go shopping I’d just get in my car, and head to the mall.” you recall over to her, wistfully sighing for extra effect. Aina never seems bothered by your musings, always indulging you without a hint of irritation.

“I’m sure things were simpler then. But now that you’re a Zoldyck, there are a lot of extra factors to account for,” Aina points out with a soft smile of her own. Whether it’s genuine or not, you’re unsure. “Master Illumi does the utmost to ensure your safety.” 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t wrapped me up in bubble wrap yet,” you snicker at the thought, before your eyes widen in realization. “Wait, I shouldn’t give him any ideas…” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt he’d do that.” 

‘For some reason, that doesn’t make me feel much better.’

Shaking your head, you decide to curve the conversation away from your overprotective husband. “What time are we heading out? I have to wear my finest threads and all, since I’m representing the family.” 

Pulling the cuff of her suit back, she looks down at her watch.

“Four hours, give or take. You still have some time.” Aina responds in haste, before covering her watch yet again. 

Owlishly, you stare at her, finding her every move to be of interest. It further cements the feeling that you don’t fit in with this estate, despite Illumi’s attempts. The grace the family members have, and even their servants have, is still far from your grasp.

That still doesn’t stop him from trying though.

“In that case, I’ll return to my previous philosophical musings.” you respond while stroking your chin, stifling another laugh. If there’s anything that can bring you comfort in this foreign place, it’s your own stupid words. 

Why you caught the interest of Illumi Zoldyck is still one of the world’s wonders, not to say you don’t have your own theories. Some ranging from being cursed as a baby, to having done something in your past life to deserve this. 

‘How does the saying go again? Opposites attract, or something. Illumi is probably the opposite of me in every conceivable way, after all.’

“Would you like me to brew you some fresh tea?” Aina asks you, having taken notice of your cold beverage. You purse your lips, knowing that trying to understand Illumi is a lost cause.

“Yes please.” 

---

When you used to watch events where celebrities would gather, one of the coolest aspects to you were the cars they’d emerge from. Sports cars, luxury vehicles, limousines. All of them filled you with awe and wonder, a class above what you could ever hope to afford. 

Now you stand here, face to face with a limousine of your own, gaping at the tinted windows and expensive tires. Three vehicles just like it line up behind, most likely your other escorts. 

Aina looks over at you once more, straightening her posture and then subtly motioning to you. It takes a moment for it to click, before realizing that your gawking isn’t as subtle as you thought it was. Following her example with less grace, you walk towards the car door.

Before you can continue to do so, you hear Aina speak up behind you. 

“Do you recall everything I told you earlier?” she inquires, causing you to turn your head back to her. Humming lowly, you remember the myriad of boring guidelines you had to endure earlier. It all felt so dramatic, and if you’re being honest, you zoned out for a majority of it. 

Scrunching up your nose, you place a finger to your cheek. “Don’t go around yelling ‘Help! I’ve been kidnapped!’ or something.” 

Aina pinches her nose, before shaking her head. “Well, you’re not wrong per se…” 

Giving her a cheeky smile, you go to reach for the door handle. But before you get the opportunity, another servant swiftly opens it for you. 

“Please, allow me, Master [First].” 

He opens it with a respectful bow, revealing a black leather interior. Letting out a small “oooh!”, you bite your lip upon noticing the other occupant of the limousine. Waving off the servant’s attempt to assist you into your seat, you hear Aina speak to you once more.

“I’ll be in the car behind you if you need anything.” 

“I’ll yell out the window in that case.” you yell back, undoubtedly earning a reprimanding look from her. Plopping yourself down into your seat, your door is closed before you even get the chance to do it yourself.

“No greeting, huh?” Illumi tilts his head, blank eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression. Fiddling with your seat belt, you finally look over at him in acknowledgement. Managing to hear a click signifying your seat belt is locked in place, you give Illumi your full attention.

“Hey, didn’t see you there.” you greet Illumi who doesn’t so much as blink at your words. 

“You looked at me when getting in,” he points out, any form of humor flying over his head. “Do we need to get your eyes checked?” 

Throwing your hands up in defense, you swiftly shake your head at his offer. “I was just joking, Illumi.” 

“Ah.” 

Illumi’s tone is as flippant as ever, one of his signature trademarks. On the other side of the partition, you hear keys being flipped to turn the car on. With a soft hum, the car gains traction with remarkable ease. On such a rocky terrain, none of it is felt as the luxury vehicle glides across the ground. 

Returning your attention to Illumi, you find him staring at you as well. For a while it gave you a jittery feeling, having those dark voids for eyes thoroughly observing your every move. While it certainly isn’t any less frightening, you suppose that all this time with Illumi has given you a sort of immunity to it. 

“So… how did your job go?” you inquire in a soft voice, hands set in place on your lap. There isn’t much else to talk about, so might as well try your luck with this. Illumi would sit next to you in total silence if he so chose to, not being the type to entertain conversation himself without some kind of agenda. 

“As well as expected,” Illumi responds earnestly, seemingly pleased that you’re taken interest in him. “The target was killed without a hitch.” 

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Oh. That’s uh, that’s good I think...” 

Trailing off your sentence, you find yourself scratching the back of your neck at the topic in progress. The thought of the person next to you having killed someone in the last twenty-four hours is dizzying, so you’re quick to move onto something new.

“So, where exactly are we going?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for the past few hours. The fact you were even leaving Kukuroo mountain in the first place is a surprising one, even your honeymoon took place here. Unless there’s some other Zoldyck owned establishment that happens to double as a mall, your mind is clueless to any possible destinations.

“I made arrangements to empty out a shopping center for a few hours. Aside from employees, that is,” Illumi explains, still not blinking. “Aina went over everything with you, right?” 

‘She did, but it’s not like I was really paying attention.’ 

Clearing your throat, you quickly nod your head to deter any negative repercussions. “Yeah, I remember everything she said.” 

He studies you once more, before leaning back into his seat. You feel a sudden urge to do the same, but find it difficult to ever fully relax when Illumi is present. Among other things, there’s still one damning question you still can’t fully understand. 

Why Illumi is even allowing this in the first place, after all the insane precautions he’s taken to seal you off from the world. Maybe it’s best not to pry into your sudden good fortune? Since curiosity killed the cat, quelling this question will be in your best interest. 

Leaning your head against your fist, your eyebrows furrow. 

“You have more questions.” Illumi points out, alarming you. Of course he notices any change in your behavior, having spent hours studying every aspect about you. In his own words, there’s nothing you can hide from him. At every given opportunity he proves those words to be correct. 

“W-well, yeah,” you admit out at the unexpected heckle. “If I’m being completely honest… I’m just a little taken aback that you’re actually allowing this. I guess.” 

For a moment you wonder if your words were too blunt, as Illumi sits there in rigid silence. 

“Think of it as a reward for your good behavior,” Illumi eventually concludes, lips curling into an unnatural, proud smile. “Even though you weren’t too compliant at first, you never made any escape attempts. I would’ve known had you tried. I was largely expecting the possibility, but you never made any serious offenses.” 

‘I feel like this is how a judge talks to a defendant or something.’

“I suppose that’s true…” you consider, reflecting back to your time here. Although escaping had crossed your mind numerous times, you never had the guts to act on it. The odds were insourmantable against you. What with all the highly trained assassins and butlers running about, you’d have better luck at winning the lottery than pulling a successful escape.

“I’ve always liked outings like this. I would treat myself to a five dollar coffee and then immediately regret it when I got home,” you recall with a snicker. “There’s nothing quite like opening your bank account and wondering, ‘What was I thinking?’ when you’re out of the moment.” 

Illumi nods his head. “That’s true. Your bank account wasn’t in the best shape.” 

“How do you even-- whatever, I probably don’t want to know,” you murmur while rolling your eyes at his lack of tact. “The point being that the most fun part is all the little treats you buy yourself in between the stores. Sometimes I’d get those cups of small pretzel bites, then have to eat them really quick since you can’t bring them in the stores.” 

“Ah! That explains all the small transactions I saw.” Illumi proclaims, eyes lighting up for a moment. 

‘The art of being subtle is all but lost to my husband.’

“Have you ever had pretzel bites, Illumi? For some reason, I get the feeling you haven’t been to the mall that often.” you comment while giving him a once over, taking in his unique fashion that would certainly stand out. How he even goes in public without people badgering him is remarkable. 

“Only once for shadowing on a job.” Illumi answers, piquing your inner curiosity. 

“You were hired to assassinate someone who hung out around a mall? I thought you only went after politicians or important people.” you point out, tilting your head.

“There’s some variety. The client himself was a wealthy individual, who wanted his daughter’s boyfriend killed. She had been dating someone who worked at a clothing store, going against her father’s wishes.” 

Frowning, you lean back into your seat. Some people will do anything for the sake of image, but the thought of doing something that would actively hurt a member of your family doesn’t make any sense to you. But the people that Illumi deal with are in a league of their own, taking part in a world you will never understand.

A somber atmosphere begins to set in, to which you attempt to alleviate with a joke. “Did you trail the guy in one of those mascot suits? Like the ones people give free samples in?” 

For a moment, you swear you saw Illumi’s eyebrows knit together. He’s still getting used to unfiltered comments, even after all this time. You’ve been told your personality is a tad on the eccentric side in the past. It doesn’t help that Illumi is incapable of spotting humor even in others. 

“No. That wouldn’t have been effective.” Illumi plainly states, unimpressed with your guess. 

At his dismissal, you further explain your reasoning. “Think about it! It’s an efficient method. You’d blend right in with the atmosphere around you, and no one would be able to tell that you’re looking at your target because of the mask. I think this is genius, actually. Maybe I should patent it…” 

Illumi purses his lips together at your further insistence. At the very least you know Illumi never tunes you out like most would be inclined to at this point. He soaks in every word, every movement of your lips. 

“That’s certainly something you would say.” he ultimately decides, knowing your carefree nature and comments well. 

‘Is that a good or bad thing? That’s probably a bad thing.’

Not giving too much thought to Illumi’s blunt comment, you content yourself by looking out your window. On the outside it’s impossible to see the interior of the car, but from this angle you’re able to see blurry scenery as it goes by. Having familiarized yourself with most of the Zoldyck estate, this felt like an entirely new world. A welcome one at that.

The temptation to lower the window for fresh air presses against you like a thorn, but you ultimately deny it. Who knows how Illumi would interpret the act, it’s better to not risk it. Instead your eyes go wide at the sights around you, seeing the outside world in what felt like forever. 

You can still feel Illumi’s gaze boring into the back of your head, but you think nothing of it. He watches you enough as is, it’s not worth getting worked up about. Through winding roads, a hint of civilization finally makes itself known. Seeing people not donning the standard Zoldyck tuxedo fills your heart with nostalgia of a time before.

Eventually, the vehicle comes to a stop in an almost empty parking lot. Not wanting to make any wrong moves, you sit patiently for whatever security checks the butlers are most likely performing at the moment. Illumi gets out before you do, the chauffeur eventually coming to open the door for you just a minute later.

Taking in the fresh air, you appreciate the ability to stretch your legs while awaiting further instruction. Aina catches your eye for a brief moment, giving you a reassuring nod before returning her attention to looking at the premises. The butlers continue to speak among themselves, occasionally running a few words by Illumi who returns to your side.

Once everything seems to be in order, you’re prompted to walk towards the entrance. It reminds you of a scene from an apocalyptic movie, seeing how this large mall is almost entirely devoid of human life. It seems Illumi’s comment about only employees being present rings true, as you cheerfully enter into the grandiose mall. 

Looking around at the interior, you come to the realization that this is an extremely high end mall. 

‘So much for my pretzel bite dreams… Maybe they have caviar stands here instead.’

Pausing, you glance over at Illumi to make certain that you’re still in the clear. Not sensing any indication that you’ve done something wrong, you continue on your merry way. It’s an overwhelming selection before you, but you want to treasure this moment for as long as you can.

Anything that catches your eye you indulge, walking into the store while being surrounded by numerous butlers. The employees at the store seem understandably hesitant at your presence, so you make an effort to not disturb them more than necessary. The shops that catch your eye the most are clothing stores.

Eventually, you approach one with a variety of cute outfits. The collection of clothes you currently have is surprisingly tailored to your taste, Illumi most likely having studied that aspect about you. An overall outfit in particular stands out to you, causing you to walk over to it with urgency.

“Illumi! How do you think this would look on me?” you call over to him with a snicker, grabbing the hanger and holding it against your person. Illumi looks at you as if you have three heads, mind undoubtedly wracking to form a husband like answer.

“It would look acceptable.” he eventually responds, to which your shoulders slump. It’s not like your expectations are high, but Illumi’s lack of enthusiasm never fails to shine through. A mischievous thought passes through your mind, grin adorning your face before you can stop it. Placing the outfit back to its previous spot, your eyes roam over the selection.

Spotting a bright pink tuxedo, you pick it up before examining Illumi.

“I think you need a new outfit or two. How about this? It’d really bring out your eyes.” you beam, using all of your strength not to laugh. Illumi looks at the bright, hot pink tuxedo and then looks at you. In your peripheral vision you see Aina place her hand to her forehead. Shouldn’t she also be used to this by now?

“I’ll consider your input.” Illumi reaches for the tuxedo, much to your astonishment. Could it be? Is he actually going to purchase this in an attempt to further win you over? Victory is a fleeting emotion, as he stretches his arms to place the outfit back in record time.

“I don’t think that’s what I’d call considering,” you point out with a frown, Illumi seemingly content with the outfit being out of your hands. “You didn’t even give it a shot. At least try it on.” 

At your additional pressure, Illumi offers a simple response. “I am considering it.’ 

Giving an over dramatic sigh, you nod before busying yourself with the other selections. Adding a few more odds and ends to your bag, it’s paid for by one of the butlers. Most likely to further limit any of your contact with the outside world. You get the feeling that if you even attempt to make conversation with them, they’d be too skittish to say anything in response. It doesn’t help that you have Illumi looming over you. 

Humming to yourself, you move onto the next few stores. It’s impossible to curtail all of your old habits, still checking the price tag before remembering it doesn’t matter anymore. This part of being with Illumi isn’t all that bad, despite its shallowness. Guilt never comes to you, however, as you recall with ease all Illumi has taken from you. 

The sun starts to set in the sky above you, the glass ceiling of the mall further showcasing the bold oranges and reds. All of the recent sunsets you’ve seen have been on Kukuroo Mountain, where you almost felt you could reach out and touch the clouds yourself. Stopping in your tracks, you gape at the nostalgic scene.

‘This is how it used to look like.’ 

The thought of never being able to see the sky from your own residence never occurred to you. Despite the undeniable beauty witnessing a sunset on a mountain brings, it’s too surreal. This is a familiar comfort, one that you’ve experienced your entire life before Illumi entered it.

“There aren’t any shops up there.” Illumi points out, his monotone returning you to reality. Jumping slightly at his sudden speech, you offer a small laugh. In a way, Illumi’s bluntness can be unintentionally humorous. 

“Now that you mention it,” you begin, squinting and looking around. “You’re right. There aren’t any. Strange, I could’ve sworn I saw some.” 

“Maybe you should see an ophthalmologist after all.” 

“I’m still joking, Illumi.” 

“Ah.” 

A butler who you don’t recognize approaches Illumi carefully, whispering a few words into his ear. Illumi looks back towards you, his attention once again yours. Your stomach sinks before he even speaks, capable of guessing what he’s already going to say.

“We’ll be heading back home now,” Illumi states, leaving little room for debate. “Did you get everything you wanted?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, you feel. At this point it’ll be best for you to offer your abundant gratitude, for him having allowed this entire trip to begin with. Giving one more glance to the sky, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at it like this again.

Giving Illumi a bittersweet smile, you nod your head. “Yeah. Everything I wanted.”

[ace-oreos]

Alpha-17 back on Kamino, taking Anakins suggestion and helping the clones come up with names and describing what working with jedi will be like. Also i like the idea of the clones asking why he SO scarred and hes like now thats a good story and watch out for general kenobi he gets into stuff and only after they meet him and anakin are they like "Oh now i get it."

Anon! I got SO. EXCITED. when I got this! Alpha is such a great character and I really enjoy working with him. Thanks for the prompt! I hope it hits everything you asked for. :) 

Kamino is… even worse than he remembers, quite honestly. If not for the verd’ike, Alpha would be more than tempted to burn the place to the ground and be done with it. 

(It’s not the first time the thought has ever crossed his mind, and it’s certainly not the last.)

But at least he doesn’t have to deal with Kenobi or Skywalker anymore. 

Which is a plus, all things considered. Rattatak had been rough, to put it lightly - much more so than he’d let on, partly to ward off potential concern from Kenobi and partly because he refuses to admit it to himself.  

Of course, he’s traded the Jedi for a batch of cadets who are entirely too boisterous for their own good. Kenobi is still stuck with Skywalker as far as he knows, and sometimes he can’t help wondering who got the better deal.

(Then again, knowing Kenobi, he’d be all too happy to spread some osik about serenity and inner balance or something equally revolting.)

Alpha suspects it’s a product of Jango’s teaching that he’d initially headed into this assignment with high expectations for the command batch. In retrospect, he can’t for the life of him fathom where he’d acquired that notion - every single cadet under his command is the embodiment of chaos with a healthy disrespect for authority. 

He’s not one to talk, but as an officer - and a recently promoted officer at that - he feels that it’s his duty to try to uphold the command structure of the GAR. 

Still, he can’t help feeling a sense of grim satisfaction whenever one of the di’kute fires back a retort at the Kaminiise or one of the nat-born instructors. Normally any deviant behavior would be smothered for fear of reconditioning, but the Kaminiise know better than to cross him. He’s one of Jango’s, after all. 

Fett may have been a rotten father, but Alpha has a grudging respect for the man’s ability to keep them all in line for twelve years. Wrangling these cadets is exhausting; he can only be grateful that they’ll be rotated out in a few months. 

(Truthfully, he hasn’t been able to shake a sense of bone-deep fatigue since Rattatak, but that’s no one’s business but his own.) 

No one could ever accuse him of going easy on his cadets, but even he knows that every soldier needs a break sometimes. Taking a second to breathe does wonders for morale. 

Unfortunately, it also invites the possibility of conversation with the verd’ike. He’s never been as inclined to idle conversation like many of his brothers, but he’s pleasantly surprised when the rambunctious boys he’s slowly becoming accustomed to prove to be much more insightful than he’d previously imagined.

He indulges their curiosity some days. More often than not their interest lies with the Jedi they’ll be serving with soon enough, so he does his best to share an adequate depiction. They’re not omnipotent tactical masterminds like the clones had been raised to believe, Alpha warns, but they’re decent officers for the most part. 

“You served with General Kenobi, didn’t you, sir?” one of the cadets asks. 

Alpha barely suppresses the first sarcastic remark that comes to mind and instead settles for a nod and a noncommittal shrug. 

“And?” one of the other boys pipes up. 

“And what?” 

“What did you think of him?”

Well, for one thing, he’s a kriffing Jedi playing at being a politician while having at least one affair that’s strictly forbidden by his creed… 

“He’s a good officer,” Alpha says at last. “Gets a bit high-minded, and we rarely ever saw eye to eye, but he listens to his men.”

He’s been sure to drill that into them over and over, because if there’s one thing he wants them to retain it’s that soldiers will follow a commander into hell if he makes an effort to connect with them. 

“What really happened on Rattatak?” 

The question catches him off guard. For a second he has half a mind to deflect it - it’s a long story, for one thing, and an unpleasant one at that - but these cadets will be shipping out soon. He’ll have little say in things once they deploy, but he can certainly do his best to prepare them now. 

Besides, Alpha can’t fault them for wanting to explore the galaxy beyond Kamino through any outlet available. Being slated for a command slot can be isolating, and they’ve heard enough about the galaxy from older troopers to be ravingly curious about what awaits them once they step foot outside Tipoca. 

“It’s really not that interesting,” he sighs in a last-ditch effort to deter them. 

Sadly, they seem content to wait him out. 

Shabla cadets and their shabla games. 

Grumbling - they look far too smug for having secured such a minor victory - Alpha opts to give them a vague overview rather than a meticulous account of everything that had taken place after Ventress had seen fit to interfere on Jabiim. 

“The campaign on Jabiim was tipping in Separatist favor…” 

_____________________

Skywalker may be a pain in the shebs, but Alpha is coming to realize that the kid had a point about naming the cadets. It hadn’t been much of a priority among the Alpha batch, but it seems to be something extraordinary for the later generations. 

Most times, the kids don’t tell Alpha directly that they’ve chosen a name for themselves; rather, he learns to listen to the quiet discussions between squad mates, and makes a point of using those names rather than the designations they’d been assigned at birth.

Sometimes a cadet’s delight gets the better of him and he blurts it out during an exercise. Alpha rarely reacts in the moment, but he makes sure to give an acknowledgement when they’re off-duty. 

After a while, their names spring to mind before their numbers. Cody, Bacara, Gree… he still can’t determine what exactly the change signals, but he can see it in their eyes. It’s a source of pride, and who is he to deny them? 

Besides, he thinks wryly, it’s better than an unruly Padawan deciding to bestow a nickname upon them in the middle of a war zone.

______________________

The cadets seem to be under the impression that stories from the battlefield will become a regular fixture in their routine. Alpha doesn’t let that notion stand very long, but he occasionally allows their questions after a successful exercise or a particularly impressive sparring match. 

They’ve gotten even bolder since he first took command; apparently, no question is off limits. 

“You’ve got an awful lot of scars, sir,” one of the boys observes. From the tone, Alpha guesses it’s Bly. 

“Very astute, cadet,” Alpha huffs. “I’m glad my training isn’t wasted on you.” 

“Are they all from Rattatak?” 

“For one thing, I honestly don’t remember how I got every single scar, and for another, I’m not here to tell you stories,” Alpha says firmly like he hasn’t spent the past twenty minutes addressing their various questions about his experience with Jedi command. 

“It’s General Kenobi, isn’t it,” Cody pipes up sagely, and in that moment Alpha realizes he’s taught them a little too well. 

“He had something to do with most of them, yes,” Alpha admits. 

“Some officer,” Neyo mutters with his usual cynicism. 

Alpha cuffs him. “Put a lid on it, cadet. I didn’t say they were his fault - it’s just that he was usually involved in one way or another. Kenobi likes to poke his nose in where it isn’t necessarily wanted.”

Most of them look disbelieving. Alpha just shrugs. They’ll figure it out one way or another.

_____________________

Alpha jerks awake sometime around 0300 to the incessant beeping of his comlink. Grumbling to himself, he activates it and rumbles a greeting.

“Hope I didn’t wake you up, sir.” 

“You’re lucky I’m not in theater, or I would smoke your shebs for this one, Cody,” Alpha growls, because even though it’s been a while since the first batch rotated out he vividly remembers every cadet’s distinct inflection and tone. 

“We’ve heard that one before,” Cody says teasingly.

Alpha ignores the jibe. “Spit it out, di’kut.”

Cody hesitates, then bursts out, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Alpha asks, awake enough to be puzzled.

“Deal with Kenobi,” Cody whispers. Alpha can’t help being amused by the desperation in his voice. “He’s a disaster on legs, sir.”

“That’s nothing I didn’t know already, al’verde,” Alpha informs him.

“But sir…” 

“You’re the commander. He’s your problem now,” Alpha adds, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Alpha…”

“Give the general my regards, Commander.” 

“Wait - ”

 “Sorry, al’verde. Duty calls.”

If Alpha is smirking when he sets aside his comlink and shuts his eyes in the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep, no one is the wiser.