#Will had worked so hard on that painting and through his eyes Mike didn’t really seem to care about him much anymore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buff-muffin · 1 year ago

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This is a Drabble I wrote that was originally going to be the start of an actual fic where Mike meets Charlie’s ghost and the two recognised each other and start catching up and helping each other out in their similar goals. But I haven’t had time to really write in weeks and I know after the movie any motivation for this story is burning in the pits of hell. So instead take this:

A drabble based off Micheal Afton getting ready for a work interview after being scooped. So uhh yea, CW for. Um… Grossness and mentions/ suggestions to body horror :)

It was morning. It was piss-fuck early morning. The ancient, dented alarm beside his bed blared with a static screech, almost unfamiliar with how long it had been since he had needed to listen to its shitty morning song. Already, all Mike wanted was nothing more than to curl up back in bed, back into the soothing lulls of sleep where he could simultaneously forget and remember everything terrible about life. With drowsiness weighing his arms like led, he tried to shift ever so subtly to get comfortable, though all it did was drag his mind right back to reality and awareness of his body. The first thing he noticed was his skin, he quickly became conscious of how it was sagged, almost like it was melted and stuck against the soggy old, torn mattress he still hadn’t found time to replace. It wasn’t like he could feel the bumps and spikes of old rusted springs that snapped through the fabric. Not through the tingling numbness that plagued his own dead body. So it was on his… eventually to do list. He had all the time in the world after all.

With glaring awake-ness back into his body, he could do nothing but pull his flesh off the drying liquid that stained the fabric of his mattress and wake up. With a slight stretch and a disgustingly slow peel, he pried himself free and pushed his legs over the side of the bed. Only now, sitting with his back so badly hunched he might completely collapse, did Mike even open his eyes. There was no sleep to wipe away and no light to adjust to. He was just, awake, back in the world of the living once again. It was only when his brain caught up did he look over the shitty apartment space he called home.

It was a studio apartment bathed in darkness from the closed curtains. The living conditions of this run down place was the definition of unliveable, which made it perfect for him. There was a leak of some kind of liquid in the kitchen. He didn’t really have an actual roof as little bits of asbestos would rain down if ever his upstairs neighbour stomped too hard. There was mould in about every corner. A roach infestation and probably a termite one too. But rent was dirt cheap and the old fuck daring enough to sell this piece of shit didn’t care how dead he looked, as long as he paid rent.

It was a good deal. A good deal for someone who can't die of any of the health code violations going on in this place.

Finally shutting off his alarm that only seemed to get more distorted as it screamed, Mike let the reality of the day wash over him. Right, busy… busy… With a resolution about as strong as his endo supported spine, he finally pulled himself up and away from his resting place. Heh. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers despite the November weather, not like he needed to keep much warm after all. So with slow, lugged and lazy steps, he dragged his boneless corpse over the piles of dirty and stained clothes and across to the bathroom; the only other room of the house. What were all those clothes stained with? An orangey-browny sometimes greeny liquid that would leak out from his scars if he laid down too long. Whatever it was, it was also on his bed and a bitch to wash out. So really he planned on throwing them all away eventually too. It was also on his never-to-do list.

The bathroom was no better than the rest of the house, if anything, arguably worse. The walls were caked in black mould and the floor painted with even more laundry that made little mounds to walk on. Under the sink was completely ransacked for its chemicals, the shower curtains were brittle with age and mould. The whole place smelled like mildew and the humidity was so bad fish could breathe in here. Even the appliances inside hardly worked. The water pressure in the shower was so dog-shit it was enough to make God cry. And half the time his sink water would be brown, just cause. Even the counter was covered in junk. But at least the mirror still worked besides the slight permanent fog.

Mike didn’t bother closing the door, and looked himself in the mirror. Skin was still as gross as ever. Hairless, purple and a little bit saggy, maybe that was a normal sag? He liked to think it was a normal sag. Like old peoples faces just started drooping once they hit eighteen. Because that’s definitely how it worked. The fact he was an adult now is still a weird one to come to terms with. So much time had passed. So much time he hardly remembered… he hardly remembered…Enard- Staring into the reflection his dead white pupils blinked away thoughts as he was dragged back to reality, right… busy busy. No time to think about months of his life lost to being a flesh puppet. Waking up a little more, he bared his teeth at his reflection, looking over them with a dull exhausted interest. Yellow and stained but unchanged, one would have thought he might have lost them a long time ago but nope. In fact they weren’t even rotting anymore now that he didn’t eat. Score. His tongue on the other hand… Was looking a bit worse for wear. He was no mortician, he didn’t really know how to make it stop rotting, he would just have to hope he could still talk when it fell out.

His eyes were a different story, no longer did he have his fathers diluted blue irises that made him shiver looking in his own reflection. In fact he no longer had eyes at all. Instead his eye sockets were bathed in darkness, with little white dots deep inside that worked as his pupils. Yeah besides his organs they were quick to toss out his eyeballs to make sure they could see when using him like a living animatronic suit. It was a little freaky that he could stick his fingers in his eyes and feel around the sticky and dried flesh. He didn’t like to, but it was kinda cool in a fucked up sort of way. The idea made him want to vomit. And wanting to vomit reminded him that he didn’t have organs. And THAT reminded him of shitty things, so he usually didn’t poke around unless something got stuck in there.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck. Interview. Ok, interview. Fuck-I gotta shower. Ok no it’s fine, I woke up early for this I’m still on time.” Trying to snap himself out of damp and depressing thoughts, he slapped his hands lightly on his hollowed cheeks and ignored the gross slapping sound that came from boneless fingers on sewn up skin. Reaching a hand past the slimy and brittle curtain he grabbed a knob and random and spun it a few times. The water dribbled and sputtered before finally coming out enough that he could actually fucking clean himself with.

It took a while believe it or not. Trying to shower without getting water in your stitches that are literally all over your body fucking sucks. Cause then he’d have to drain the water out of his empty body and if he’s unlucky have to do the stitches all over again. And the shitty patch work that covered his body spoke for itself that he can't sew for SHIT. The only upside was that he didn’t have any hair at all, he didn’t have to worry about shampoo or conditioner; just a light scratch to his skull did the job. The only things he actually needed to do was scrub off the remaining residue from his mattress that had plastered itself to his skin. Well, and wash away the smell of physical rot with nothing but a cheap body wash he bought just for today. Actually he bought some other things for this interview too.

Other things being, makeup.

Ok yeah-it sounds a little stupid, but when your skin is a beautiful shade of undead purple, and you're heading in for a work interview at a childrens’ entertainment establishment. The best you could do was just look a little living, ya know? So, once Mike was padded dry using the one clean towel he still had, he wrapped it around his waist and left the bathroom, retrieving the makeup he left out, along with the only nice outfit he bothered to keep clean. Bundling everything in his arms, he returned to the only mirror in his apartment and dumped all the supplies in the sink to get dressed first. His clothes were simple, and styled a little like a homeless man. A pair of long baggy jeans, the only pair that weren’t ripped intentionally or by a robot. A turtle neck that would do a good job of hiding some scars that decorated his freak of a neck, and a purple flannel he stole from his fathers leftover stuff. I mean was it really stealing if his mum was gonna sell ‘em anyways?

When he looked in the mirror it felt odd. He never did look right, no matter what he wore. But the fact his skin now matched his fathers obnoxious plum coloured clothes was enough to make him shiver. As uncomfortable as the flannel made him, it beats trying to thrift at three AM. The last details of his outfit was still stuffed in his pocket, a pair of mittens and an old grey beanie that had been with him through many winters. Thank fuck for the cold weather giving him and excuse to hide more of his corpse skin right?

When he was finally dressed and drowned in deodorant to mask the lingering scent of death, he turned back to the musky and foggy mirror staring down at the products still abandoned in the sink. Foundation, concealer, some weird palette thing that he spent ten bucks on, an egg sponge that was probably important, and one of those weird also kinda egg shaped brushes that seemingly every woman owned. He didn’t know jack-shit about makeup. He was a freshly twenty year old guy with a sister that went missing before she could become a teen and actually get good at this bullshit. And a mother who never had a chance to dress up. The most he was going off of was when Elizabeth would beg and cry to cake his face to look like a bootleg clown. But that was when they were both children.

Alright, makeup, he could do this. Basically like half the population wears this shit, can’t be too hard. Ok first, foundation? Or would concealer be first for him? He does need to conceal like… everything. Maybe if he layers foundation enough it will conceal all his issues? He could probably put concealer on next if needed. Using the sponge, he started smearing his face in what felt like skin colour paint. One layer made him look as if nothing changed. So he added some more, then more. And when he still looked a little bit… freaky, with a purple undertone he added concealer. And well… he didn’t look… terrible?

Well, he still looked like a clown, and his eyes were still glowing lights in pits of darkness and he was still bald as fuck. So like a horror clown from hell. But his cheeks looked less dead and he looked passable for a living human, if only just a little uncanny. His face looked as flat as a paper plate which probably didn’t help. Looking down at the palette thing he was sure he had wasted his money on, he could feel himself cringe. Not what he thought he would be using art class for, but at least it wasn’t a complete waste.

Using the brush, he shaded from jaw to cheek and along the sides of his nose. He even added little highlights just to seal the deal on the idea of being alive. He wasn’t going too over the top with this, it’s not like he was going out for a tea party or some shit. He just needed to look alive. All around, makeup took an hour and he ended with a presentable face and a new understanding of why the few girls he dated were always running late. It was satisfactory. So, deeming himself done, he washed off his hands and the sink that had been splattered in spilled concealer. Once all the shit was dry and his black towel was newly dawned with fresh skin coloured stains he finally walked out of the bathroom to the rest of his decomposing house.

Finally, he pulled on his tattered beanie and dug through the remains of his backpack. The thing was old, rotting and falling apart at the seams. A large stain still sat at the bottom from a particularly rotten apple from high school. But now it was filled with everything he would need for today. Definitely expired meds. A fake resume, that was basically fucking empty besides some good words from a volunteer place he had never actually worked at. Fake ID, for a Mr Jeremy Fitzgerald. Surprisingly, when he called the place, they didn’t have that many checks besides explaining that as long as you had a clean criminal record you would be fine to work.

A particular stain on that shiny old record of his rang in his head. There was no court problem besides other parents complaining about the trauma their children went through. But he was sixteen, and arguably had it worse at the time. So no real charges were pressed, just a note in case he became a deadbeat in the street or something. So they could tie it all back to the trauma of the biggest fuck up of his life and throw him behind bars anyways. But it’s fine, that wouldn’t matter. Jeremy Fitzgerald was a fresh out of high school teen looking for honest work between his studies. A blank slate he planned on tossing away once he got what he needed from this place.

Once he figured out what his father had planned.

With a new found resolve, and his double check done, Michael Afton pulled on his glasses and gloves and slugged his bag onto his back. He looked back to his bed and resisted the urge to collapse on it before he pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind him. Jeremy Fitzgerald had an interview for the nightshift at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. And he couldn’t miss this chance.

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daydream-believin · 9 hours ago

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Like a Boiled Frog (you don't even scream) [Ch. 5]

[Start Here] + [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Test out fun things like ball pits and claw machines. Meet your fellow members of the Fazbear Family. Realize you've made yourself like, the platonic ideal of a potential cold case homicide. Oops.

Warnings: swearing. animal death? neither of the animals that die are animals. and neither of them actually die...

Word count: 4602

A/n: sorry it took me a little longer but, it's longer now. happy thanksgiving break!

Taglist: @spirit-of-the-hollow

You rest your head against the newly painted wall. The other employees flitted around, but you didn’t care. It’s your break and you’re gonna rest, goddamnit.

“Bloody hell. This holiday rush might shut us down before we even get a proper go at it,”

You had no idea when Michael sidled up next to you, but you didn’t even startle at the sound of his voice. You were too damn tired to care.

“Not gonna lie, kinda worried about when those two go home in half an hour and it’s just going to be me, you, and the trash gang,” you gestured to the dining room in front of you, “Because this clearly isn’t calming down anytime soon,”

“Yeah, I really underestimated just how many people would want pizza at 10 o’clock at night. Lucky for us, we just ran out of dough,”

“Oh goody. So we get to go home?”

Relief wasn’t even the word to describe it.

“Well,” Michael rubbed the back of his neck,

“Not exactly…”

Last night had been so fun! Now that Helpy was up, y’all got to finishing testing out all the games in the arcade. Which wasn’t much, since most of the cabinets were still out of working order, but beside the air hockey table there were a few claw machines. And a ‘ball pit’…

That goddamn cardboard box of balls. You hated ball pits normally. Ball pits, foam pits, pillow pits, any type of pit children hurl themselves into like lemmings, really. But this thing put Dashcon to shame. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone had somehow pissed in it even though it was brand new and hadn’t been exposed to the public yet. This thing’s aura just felt that horrible.

So of course Michael thought it a grand idea to throw Helpy into it.

In his defense, the robot had practically begged him. Even though the little guy couldn’t speak as much as just make noises, he was very persuasive. To be honest, it was pretty cute watching Helpy get so excited at the prospect of doing exactly what he was made to do, help. And he was the only person in the room who feasibly could test the ball pit. So after watching him wade around in there for a bit, you thought nothing of the bear climbing back into Michael’s arms and miming to ask to be tossed back in.

“You wanna jump? Okay, one, two—“ the little bear looked determined as Michael wound up to throw him, “THREE!”

Helpy flew through the air, eyes wide and squeaking in glee.

And then,

CRACK.

You just stood there with your mouth open, staring in disbelief at the sight before you. Beside you Michael whispered a small, “Oh shit…”

Neither of you said a word as you stared at Helpy’s now limp and lifeless body. You could hear your heartbeat.

RIP Helpy, alive for an hour before he broke his little neck. He died doing what he loved: being hurled into ball pits.

Initial shock over with, this was actually pretty funny, and you were trying so very hard not to bust out into laughter. You know, considering this meant another headache for Mike as he would have to fix the robot now. He might not appreciate your entertainment in this situation.

Michael deeply sighed. A bloody shame. And more work.

“NOOooo, little guy!” You approached the little robot, shaking your head as you stared down at him.

You reached a hand down to start picking him up off the floor when Helpy jolted back to life, a loud cartoon ding! playing, promptly giving you a heart attack.

As you clutched at your chest, Helpy got back to his feet and dusted himself off. He looked up to chirp at you and Mike, giving a thumbs-up with another silly little sound effect to assure you he was all good.

Well, at least you can breathe again at this point. Some Looney Tunes ass shit that Mike’s programmed here. Geez.

Michael gave Helpy a quick check-up to see what he broke but the little robot had only sustained a few scratches and a loose wire here and there, nothing major thanks to Mike’s excellent craftsmanship. Helpy was just as chipper as ever. No harm no foul.

The claw machine tests were a lot less eventful.

Well, no, that’s a lie. After the initial tests proved all four of the machines worked, it quickly became a competition to see which of you could actually win without maintenance-mode turned on.

Spoiler alert. It was Michael. The lucky bastard.

He not only won, either, he got multiple wins as you continued to try, determined to show him you could at least get one. If you were using actual money and not just Fazcoins that Mikey had a bucket of, you’d have already spent a highschool kid’s hard-earned part-timer paycheck. Good thing this is fake and the stakes are so low. But this was about honor at this point.

He leaned against the glass of the machine, smugly watching as you struggled. He had his arms crossed with that cocky smirk you noticed he had whenever you played the arcade games together. You know, in the all-of-two instances that’s happened. The colorful lights of the machine bounced off his features, giving him a bit of a glow as he snickered when you failed once again. Kinda distracting, in combination with the annoying ass carnival music the machine played. It’s kinda cheating. Yeah.

As the loud “you lose” tone played once again, Mikey laughed full-bellied, shoulders shaking, “C’mon, mate. Give up. I don’t think you’re going to do it tonight,”

“No. You shut up,” you childishly stuck your tongue out at him, “I’m going to get it this time, new strategy,”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Sure,”

He’d already won three times, so getting this one wasn’t going to win you the little war you two had. There was technically no point. But you still really really wanted to win at least once. Some kind of driving factor here. Maybe you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. Maybe you were trying to impress him. Who knows.

What you did know, however, was that by some miracle, the claw was actually working for you. You stared in disbelief as it dragged the stuffed animal across the air and didn’t drop it this time. You didn’t even realize you had been holding your breath until the “you win!” jingle was loudly blaring from the machine.

“…I did it?” you turned to Michael, “I did it!”

You held up your hand for a high five. He laughed and shook his head in disbelief as he met your hand with his.

“Well I’ll be,” that sounded strange coming from his accent. Mike came around to pat you on the shoulder, “you actually won,”

“You better watch out, I’ll start practicing and give you a run for your money soon,”

“Oh sure,” He bent to pick up the stuffed animal from the prize cubby to put in back in the machine, “I’m SO scare—“

In his hands lied good ol’ psychic friend Fredbear.

Oh. You kinda forgot all about him, busy with Michael. Whoops.

“…I think we should call it a night,” Michael’s voice was now devoid of all playfulness as he turned the plushy around in his hands.

“… Yeah.” you answered dumbly.

Michael started walking off, expecting you to follow. Which you did, of course. Damn. Already in some sort of routine here.

You two made your way to the restaurant’s office, of which you remembered from earlier today when Mike told you it was off-limits and you should never go in there without him. Ominous.

When he opened the door, it just got stranger. It looked like any ordinary run-of-the-mill office. As long as you looked straight forward. If you looked to either side of the room, however, there were GIGANTIC FUCKING VENTILATION OPENINGS?? Like a fully grown adult person could get in there easily without having to crawl on their belly like a snake. An elementary schooler could get in there and run around.

“What in hell—“

“Don’t ask. Explaining it would take way too much time and energy,”

“That’s cryptid as fuck but okay,” you’d pick a different battle than this.

Michael gently placed the Fredbear plushy down on top of the printer, “You comfy Fredbear?”

The stuffed bear did not answer.

“That’s great! Goodnight buddy,”

Michael pushed past you to leave but you stayed there in the doorway, transfixed on the doll. Its eyes bore into you, just like they always did. You really should bring Fredbear home with y—

“Come on!” Michael called to you from the front door.

You shook your head, trance broken, “Yeah!”

You shut the door tightly behind you, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference if the haunted plush wanted to be somewhere else. It was more for you than anything.

You almost ran through the door Michael was holding open for you.

Ah, but once in the car, you couldn’t help but be curious and get on Mike’s nerves. As you do.

You turned down the radio to talk, “So. You don’t want your dead baby brother’s bear in the house?”

“Absolutely not. Once you invite them in, they won’t leave you alone,”

Well, that was in fact the deal with ghosts, so you could see it, but,

“You don’t want to be haunted by your own dead brother?”

He sighed, “Look, I’ve already been there, okay? He doesn’t even— and that other little freak’s probably with him too so— I don’t— It’s not like a fun family bonding experience, Y/n,”

You could give him that. And truth be told, you were tired of living in haunted houses. At least Michael’s place seemed to only be haunted by one singular ghoul, himself. You could handle that. You weren’t sure you could handle more though, so maybe he’s right.

Maybe he’s really right. Why were you even arguing against this? Hoo boy. This godforsaken town is making you crazier already.

Speaking of more ghosts, did he say ‘that other little freak’? There’s two? Did Evan’s ghost have a friend? Strange, you had gotten the impression that the spirit was lonely, like you. And like, that’s why he’s haunting you, right? It was all just more to the mystery. And you didn’t want to be dealing with that mystery 24/7. You and Michael aren’t the Scooby-Doo gang.

“…You’re right.”

Michael sighed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Reaching over, he turned the radio back up.

You wanted to ask him more about the supposed second ghost, but he looked so tense, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Eyes locked forward. It’s probably a conversation that can be had later. It’s not like you’ll be able to forget about it.

The rest of the ride home was silent.

—

You padded out of the bathroom, now in your official “Fazbear uniform” (Just a red button up with the black jeans you had already been wearing when you rolled into town. You technically didn’t work there so it’s not like you had a uniform shirt or a nametag or any of that) and ready to start your first day at the pizzeria. The pizzeria’s first day at the pizzeria too. Excited wasn’t really the word, but you sure were feeling ready for the onslaught of opening day.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you were met with the sight of one zombie man reading the news on his laptop at the table. Dressed very nicely for the occasion, Michael had on a muted cyan button down with the addition of a gold vest and a navy tie. Dark grey slacks. You know the outfit. Hoo boy. Men in vests. Damn you wish you could wolf whistle.

“Whew-ee, someone’s looking spiffy,” you smirked as you made your way to the table, “we need to take a picture to commemorate the moment, chh-ch,” you mimed taking a snapshot.

“Stop. I look fine,” he grumbled, continuing to read the article about the zoo’s latest baby otter so he didn’t have to look at you.

You noticed that along with his name tag, which said “Manager Mike”, he also had a few vintage looking buttons displaying the faces of the characters pinned to his lapel. Cute.

You hefted yourself onto the tabletop to sit, now looking down at him, “I know. That’s what I said. You look fine,”

Mike finally pulled his attention away from the news to look up at you. He just stared, so after a while you raised your eyebrows in question. He broke away, shaking his head a bit.

“I’m sorry. I—“, he suddenly got very interested in the floor tiles, “I guess I’m just not used to compliments, genuine ones, at least,”

Dammit. You really wish Michael had a working circulatory system. What you wouldn’t give to see this man blush.

But. That’s also really sad. What’s been going on in this poor zombie man’s personal life all these years. You had a sneaking suspicion you knew, with a reaction like that. It was all too familiar.

“That’s okay.. Uh, me—me neither,” you checked your watch to avoid having to look at him this time, “Oh, we need to go. Like right now. We’ll be late,”

Michael stood up at your words, clearly eager to leave this awkward conversation, and offered you a hand to help you get down. Which you didn’t need, because like, you just had to slide off the table and onto your feet. Easy.

But that’s an excuse to hold your hand, isn’t it?

Eh. You might just be making mountains out of molehills here…

——

On the short drive to the pizzeria, Michael almost hit a dog.

Or at least. You hope it was a dog. It had to be a dog… The way it dragged its limp body away into a bush.. So unnaturally… You shivered at the thought…

Well, nevermind all that!

Things were pretty normal before the employees arrived. Just you and Mike doing some last-minute cleaning, such as vacuuming up all the gypsum flecks that had made its way to the dining room floor during reno. Once the kids did get there, though, then things got a little funny. Henry had made up a mask to help Michael blend in more with the aforementioned not-dead people. Although, you personally thought a silly white bear mask made him stick out more. But whatever works.

Oh you needed to see him interact with Helpy when he had the mask on, actually. It would be adorable.

So, about those not-dead people.

You finally got to meet Vanessa and Travis. Turns out they were real after all. Silly you for doubting.

Vanessa was a sweet girl, and very excited to start her first job because it made her feel “all grown up” as she told you while you helped her put all the chairs down in the dining room.

Apart from the regular Fazbear uniform, she had a gajillion kandi bracelets on her wrists over a pair of long fingerless gloves. Like Mike, she also had a bunch of Fazbear character buttons, but these looked much newer. Maybe she got them from her older siblings or just a goodwill in the area. Who knows. To top off the look, her fluffy blond hair had some raccoon rainbow highlights, just so her friends will think she’s dynamite~. Or something.

Travis was. Definitely a guy. Look up “white guy stock image” and then put a red Fazbear uniform shirt onto him. There you go. That’s Travis. Mike had him prepping in the kitchen, so you didn’t see much of him. And he’s probably not important, so let’s skip over him.

One person you had been waiting to meet, however, was not there. The ever-mysterious Uncle Henry. Elusive too, it seemed. You don’t know what you were picturing. Not an older Michael, since you knew Henry was the stepdad. The dad who stepped up. Maybe a humanized Freddy? Guess it’ll remain a mystery.

Right after the clock struck 10:00am, just an hour before opening, Michael came out of his office, keys in hand, muttering to himself. You watched him turn about the room to get his bearings, secretly entertained at how silly he looked in that bear mask. Once he spotted you and Vanessa, he made his way for the dining room to talk to y’all, hanging in the doorway,

“Vanessa, you’re in charge while I’m out,”

Vanessa quickly put up her hand in salute, promising that she wouldn’t let him down.

Well. Okay then. That kinda stung. He trusted this teenager more than you? Fine then y—

“Y/n, c’mon let’s go,” he waved his hand towards the door, expecting you to leave with him.

Oh. Okay… Alright. You could vibe with that. Cool mystery errand time. Hopefully it’s not something insane like hiding a body, but hey, if it was, then that means Mike extra trusts you.

Thankfully he took off that stupid bear mask while in the car. Probably way too hot to keep it on, but you liked to think that he just felt comfortable as himself around you. That being said, you get the feeling that if you had met him a little later than you did, when he was wearing the mask, he probably wouldn’t be as confident. Maybe even terrified of letting you see him like this…

Thankfully, none of that mattered.

It wasn’t too long, just about fifteen minutes, before you were pulling into the driveway of some random house in a more rural part of town. The house was pretty big and looked like it was probably fancy too once upon a time. But time had taken its toll on the place by now. A flipper would have a field day turning this thing into a soulless modern home.

Michael visibly tensed up as he pulled into the driveway. You put a hand on his shoulder, attached to the arm still strangling the steering wheel. His eyes darted to yours as you made contact, and he looked about ready to go into fight or flight, so you didn’t break it.

“Hey,” you moved your thumb slowly along his bicep, trying to calm him down, “I don’t know what’s in there, but at least you’ve got backup.”

He continued to stare you down.

You pointed to your chest, “Me. I’m the backup,”

He broke away from eye contact, shaking his head in exasperation, “Yes, I know... This— This is just a lot… I try to stay away from here as much as humanly possible,”

You rubbed his shoulder gently, as you didn’t quite know what would hurt him at this point, or at least accidentally break his skin. He had to be pretty fragile. Pretty easy to rip apart. In fact you weren’t entirely sure how he was even being held together in the first place. Magic, you guessed… or dismissed, more like it.

“I can go, uh, do whatever you need to do, so you don’t have to—,” you began.

“No,” he cut you off, “He won’t open the door for you, might try to shoot you, even. He doesn’t know you,”

“Ah, yeah, you’re right I…” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I keep forgetting none of this is any of my business… Wait, I’m sorry he might what?”

Mike let out a pained chuckle, “It’s fine,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “it’s not like he’s going to open the door for me either,”

Well, apparently Michael isn’t too worried about the “the person inside has a gun” part. So it’s probably fine, like he said. Probably…

Man, you’ve been putting a lot of trust in a zombie you met like three days ago.

Hmmm. Well. It’s not like you have anything to lose here. At least when you die it can be on Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Michael knocked very loudly and deliberately on the door, and then rang the doorbell in what could be presumed was a pattern, but maybe it was just random bell spam because he was angry. No one came to open the door, but you heard a lot of scuffling about from behind it.

Mike pulled out his cell phone and started calling. It apparently took too long for the other person to pick up, as he rolled his eyes in impatience.

“Yes, it’s really me. Open the bloody door.”

He aggressively pressed [End Call]. You could tell this man missed having a physical receiver to slam the phone into.

“Did you just have to Two-Factor Authentication this motherfucking door?”

Michael’s deep sigh gave you all the information you needed. Okay, so maybe you are doing an Insane Errand.

The door swung open swiftly, revealing a dark room beyond it. Kinda reminded you of the spring-loaded quickness of the entrance to a possum trap. You actually didn’t want to go in there, you know because of the threatening aura, but Michael boldly walked right in, unbothered. You followed, disciple that you are at this point.

The first thing you noticed was the smell. It was reminiscent of Mike’s place, dust and motor oil and smoke and stale beer. And thus, like Mike’s place, there was a sense of nostalgia to it.

Second, it was pretty dark, but what you did see of the furniture was dated. It was like this place was a time capsule. The living room looked as if it were imported straight from the 70’s. And just like Mike’s place it was covered in various mechanical parts and half-assed machines. Prototypes, as they were called in proper English.

And then you noticed the feral old man holding a whole ass crossbow. At least it wasn’t pointed at you but. Damn. Perhaps Mr. Henry Emily? Considering Mike told you he doesn’t have that large of a social circle. Still. This could be a dealer. You never know.

This heavily armed senior citizen was disheveled, with oil stains on his clothes. The way he stood, ready to flee or pounce at any sudden movement, reminded you of a cat. One of those big fluffy cats that could use a good brushing.

Michael sighed, “I suppose it’s stupid to ask but do you think you could work the restaurant for the weekend? We’re short-staffed and I need all the help I can get.”

Mr. crossbow left a pregnant pause with an icy glare, “… I think we both know why that’s a bad idea, Michael,” he gestured towards you, “Besides, you’ve got an extra hand with Mx. L/n here,”

Okay. So context clues here are really pointing towards Henry. At least you hoped. Although, this wasn’t exactly the cordial man you had been picturing. The kinda man who walks around in a yellow bear suit and talks to kids in a goofy voice. That man was not present at the moment. Even as you stood in his dark and dusty bear cave. It's like that with bears, you guess. You linger too long, or hurt their cubs, or just for the hell of it and suddenly, you were dead. But-- no. Even now, Henry Emily didn't look like the kind of man to kill for the hell of it. Not a polar bear, then.

“A person with a single day of training will be nowhere near as useful as you would,” Michael shot you an apologetic look in an afterthought, “No offense Y/n,”

“None taken!” you weren’t gonna pretend like you were a hot new player in the pizzeria game.

Michael ran an exhausted hand through his hair, “It would just be a lot less stressful if you were there, just briefly. Just through the rushes.”

“Those are the worst times. Think of the foot traffic.” Mr. Crossbow crossed his arms. He looked pretty cross. (ouchie stop throwing stuff at me I’ll stop okay)

Mike took a calming breath with his hands clasped tight in front of him, and yeah, you couldn’t blame him. That was quite literally a ‘yes that’s the whole point’ statement.

“Look, you can work the kitchen the entire time, that way you only have to interact with a few people,” he pleaded.

Henry grumbled, “You know Jeremy never complained when he was short-staffed.”

“Jeremy’s MISSING HIS FRONTAL LOBE,”

Uh. Hopefully that’s unrelated to his position as a Fazbear employee. But you know it’s not. Not even a ‘deep down you knew’ nah the shallowest part of you knows.

You glanced over at Michael again, all undead and stuff. Shit…

“You know what? FINE.” Mike announced as he stalked off towards the kitchen, “where are the damn tapes?” which was perhaps a rhetorical question as he clearly knew they were in the kitchen.

And this left you alone with Henry. Or at least, you thought it was Henry. Probably should ask. You know, like a real person does.

“Henry Emily, I presume?” you held out your hand.

He eyed you suspiciously. Shit. If this ain’t him that’s awkward. At least he shook your hand.

“You would be correct, Y/n L/n,” oh thank God.

“I’m crashing at Mike’s place for a bit,”

“So I’ve heard,” he looked you up and down, like he was taking measurements for your coffin, “… Y/n M/n L/n. twenty-[X]-year-old runaway, far from home. 15-year-old car, not running a tab at any motel. You don’t have a cell phone on you, do you?”

“Um, no?”

“No one knows where you are.” A statement, not a question.

“Uhh—” this was starting to get creepier.

“There was only five, right?” Oh blessed Michael the angel here to rescue you.

“That’s all of them.” Henry replied shortly like he wasn’t just listing out all the reasons they could bury you in the backyard tomorrow without drawing any suspicion whatsoever.

You held out your hands to take some of the tapes Mike was carrying. They didn’t look heavy or anything, but you really needed something to do with your hands. And you needed to feel useful right now. For some unknown reason. He passed a couple to you, sensing this.

“Alright, c’mon Y/n, let’s go,”

You freed up a hand to wave to Henry, “It was nice meeting you, sir,” you lied.

“Likewise,”

“Yeah, bye Henry,” Michael didn’t look back as he shepherded you towards the door.

How much of that did he hear, you wonder. Probably all of it. It wasn’t that big of a house.

“I’m sorry about that,”

Yeah, Mikey heard.

“Um,” you didn’t know how to phrase this politely, “He wasn’t like, threatening me, right?”

Michael made a noncommittal gesture, “Honestly? He could totally have been. But he also just talks like that normally. So who knows,”

“I would like to know,”

He playfully shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It’s probably fine.”

“Probably isn’t—sigh. Okay,” again, at least you’ll wind up on Buzzfeed Unsolved, “Well, do you think he liked me at all?”

“That I also have no clue about,”

“Then I choose to believe that he thought I was the coolest person in his dark cave of a living room,”

Michael chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Oh, I’m sure that’s true. In those exact words too,”

The pizzeria came in view. Still in one piece and not on fire. So far so good. No immediate disaster. Vanessa did a good job as acting manager. In the all-of-forty-five minutes she was in charge—

Uh. Perhaps you jinxed her, because as soon as you two walked through the door, Vanessa came running into the room like the world’s most nervous cheetah. And that’s saying something, cheetahs are naturally nervous. Her blonde hair was in disarray, little rainbow sprigs sticking out here and there.

“Oh good! You guys are back!”

Her cheerful tone died, “Please help us.”

#michael afton x reader #fnaf x reader #michael afton x male reader #michael afton #fnaf #fnaf fanfic #my writing #five nights at freddy's #mike shmidt x reader

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savagesphinx · 1 year ago

Text

Tous les moulins de mon cœur

Chapter 2

TW : Violence, blood, sexual subject.

The characters belong to Gatobob.

———————————————————————-

Mike was floating in a cotton ocean. Lost in complete torpor, he let himself drift into nothingness. There was something comfortable and reassuring about the void. There was no pain, no fear. He let himself slide even deeper into the darkness. After a while of wandering, her back gently hugged the flat surface of the floor. He groped the surface. The sand slipped through his fingers, lodged under his black-painted fingernails. Distant sounds reached his ears. Laughs. They were laughing in the distance, sitting together around the camp.

The noise of the beers being uncapped made him thirsty. The laughter of the others made him envious. As stuck in the sand, he saw them from afar. He saw himself in the middle of the group. They weren't really friends. Absolutely not. But the excitement of the hunt and the rarity of the event made them more inclined to talk. Only Machete remained at a distance. Jak offered a coke rail which « Dragon » declined. They needed clear ideas for what was to follow. The sacrifice. Derek was bawling his exploits of the day out loud. He saw himself, He saw himself staring at « Dragon ». Seek his touch. Look for excuses. Get his attention. Impress him.

Mike bit his tongue so hard he felt the taste of blood flood his mouth.

He tried to look away. He wanted to sink deeper into the void. Where he would feel absolutely nothing. Where he could forget himself and all those missed opportunities.

He managed to let himself slide further.

A slap in the face brought him back to reality.

He growled an incomprehensible insult. His head was on fire. He was struggling to breathe, sweating profusely and his tongue felt like it was about to turn to ashes. He opened his eyes with great pain. His head was swaying, he took long seconds before realizing where he was. What position he was in.

His wrists were tied above his head with heavy tape. They rested on the back of his office chair, held back by some tie. His legs were raised, firmly taped on the armrests of the chair. He was in boxers and a t-shirt. The position was as humiliating as it was uncomfortable. Everything came back to him like a slap in the face.

« Are you comfortable ? » The voice came from behind him. Mike felt his blood run cold with anguish.

« Jace... ? » He called, with a faint hope. It was a misunderstanding, a fucking nightmare. His friend's voice answered with amusement. « If it makes you happy... »

Making him happy was probably the last of his intentions.

Jace walked around the chair and appeared in front of him, still sporting those unnatural green eyes. « You passed out in the trunk. Long road. You must have had heatstroke. Or did I hit too hard... Anyway, do you want some water ? »

Mike nodded softly, and Jace returned in no time with something to quench his thirst. Water dripped down his chin and he downed the glass in one gulp. It wasn't enough but he would be content with it for now. Jace stepped back. He looked at him, his face impregnated with a wide and terrible smile. A few minutes passed. Mike felt his blood pressure rise. Cold sweat rolled down his neck. The thing didn't seem to blink once.

His tongue dry, Mike attempted to say something. As long as it can break the leaden silence... « ...What do you want from me? I...I didn't think this was going to work okay? It was just bullshit...If you want more blood, I'm sure we can work out a deal... We'll do it for you, okay ? We'll kill some more if we have to! »

The creature nodded slowly, watching him intently. Then he let out a sordid, screeching laugh. Mike felt his hopes melt like snow in the sun. He sank a little deeper into the chair. The thing approached dangerously, almost pressed its forehead against his. It was Jace's face, Jace's smile. But everything was out of shape. « Thank for the proposal boy. I take good note of it. »

Mike felt him dig his fingernails into the tender skin of his legs. He gritted his teeth. « For now, I think I want to have a little fun. I stayed asleep for so long... » The scratch became a caress, went up too high on the inside of his thighs. Mike suppressed a horrified shudder. He convinced himself that it was horror.

It was weird seeing Jace act like that. His hands touch him like this. Their relationship had never been so... close. Apart of him wanted more. So much more. But it was more prudent to abstain. Ruining their friendship would have been the worst mistake.

Jace was his soulmate. A precious being in his life. Purely platonic, of course - putting aside the murders they committed together, the victims they fucked together. It was a very special friendship, that's all.

« You’re still with me buddy ? » A snap of his fingers in front of his eyes brought him back to sad reality. That thing wasn't Jace. It had simply taken his form. He tried to imprint the information into his head. « Can he hear me? »

The question was unexpected. The creature looked surprised and, after a silence, tapped its fingertip on its head. « Yes. He hears and sees everything. But he is too... Far away to act. He's a spectator, if you prefer. He doesn't have enough strength to fight. But he is still there. Inside. »

Mike was overcome with a surge of survival and bawled so loudly that he hoped to alert the neighbors. « Dude please ! Come back ! » The rest died in the back of his throat and became a vague sob. « Don't leave me like this… Come back Jace… Please, please, please... »

But Jace remained deaf to his call. The thing sighed heavily. « Shut the fuck up… I didn't think you would open it so much. You seemed like a pretty quiet guy... »

The other straightened up abruptly and left to rummage through the rest of the apartment. He heard him pass in the kitchen, in their bathroom. « Don't get me wrong, I usually love to hear them yelling and cry… But until I get a safer place, you're going to have to shut it up. »

He came back and stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth, before securing it with tape. Mike tried to bite him but the man threw back his head with a weak slap. « There. Good boy. »

He rewarded him with a pat on the top of the head. « Good. I'm reassured. You're going to stay here for a while. I don't want you to tear your throat. Not like this I mean… »

Mike gave him a half-questioning, half-angry look. The man raised an eyebrow and stretched a smirk across his pale lips. « I told you, I want to have fun. In my own way. And you're a lovely candidate. »

Mike didn't immediately understand where he was talking about, but seeing him approach armed with the ceremonial dagger gave him a good idea of what awaited him. He tried to struggle, to move back while rolling the chair, but the creature grabbed his leg without any difficulty.

He shook his head, growled his panic through the fabric and the tape. He hoped to dissuade him with a look.

The tip of the blade dug into his calf. He jumped back. It sliced through the flesh, showing blood and muscle down the length of his leg. Tears welled up in his eyes. His leg burned violently. He had never particularly liked pain. Inflicting it on others was easier. More exciting. He had never wanted to end up on the other side of the blade. A few smacks during sex were enough. This was too much.

« C’mon ! You're not going to freak out just because of that, you're a big boy! I saw you doing those things in the cave. No fun swapping places huh ? »

Mike shakes his head. Maybe if he went his way, the thing would let him go. He was ready to humble himself for that. But the blade cut his skin to the ankle. He caught his breath, swallowed his saliva with pain because of the gag. He was hot. Her back was sticking to the desk chair from sweat.

« Hold on buddy. We're just getting started. » He barely gave him time to regain his composure and slid his tongue over the blood flowing from the wound. The hot, wet muscle wrung a complaint of pain from him. The tongue slowly moved up the wound. The creature growled, seeming to enjoy the meal. Maybe a little too much. Mike looked down and noticed his erection, horrified. He had seen Jace get hard before. It was not a first time. But knowing that it was for him… He was mortified. He twitched by reflex in the hope of avoiding the worst.

But the creature just cut him again. More lightly this time, all along his leg. The cuts were sometimes superficial and purely dedicated to hurting him, sometimes deeper to draw a little more blood out of him. Each time, he came to lick his wounds, shivering with pleasure. « Your blood is really good. You’re really good. »

It was a growl. A dull, cavernous rumble. It was obvious he was fighting his excitement, down there. When he attacked the other leg, Mike had already started to dissociate. The pain was relegated to the background of his mind. He already felt like leaving. The iron smell of his own blood flooded his nostrils.

It was a nightmare. No… It was deserved. It was revenge for all the souls he had buried in the desert. It made him laugh nervously which made the crouching thing in front of him smile. « He's begging me to stop, inside. It's crazy this...Connection you have. I saw it in the cave. It's like you two were one person. »

This was the case. At least there. In the desert. It was an opportunity to forget himself a little. To no longer be two but one. Him instead of them. Then they returned and plunged back into their daily life full of unspoken things. Mike would have given anything to get back to their stupid habits.

A hand brushed his hair back, tucking it behind his pierced ears. It wiped the sweat from his brow and stroked it almost tenderly. « I feel like the three of us are going to have a fucking good time. »

Gag or not, he had nothing to say. He just wanted to find Jace. The comfort of their sofa, the stupid shows they shared after work. Annoy him with his concerts, accompany him to his stupid game shops, paint his toenails when he slept. Mike realized he was crying again. He was sure Jace was too. Trapped inside his own head.

It was your idea.

It should have been me.

He remained inert until the other locked his door. He heard him move around the apartment, go to his room. No. Jace room. Take possession of it. Making himself at home. Mike allowed himself to cry harder until night falls.

#tpof #the price of flesh #tpof komodo #tpof dragon #dragon #komodo #fanfic #tpof fanfic

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antisociallilbrat · 2 years ago

Text

The Williams Part One

Part Two

Read on Ao3

Ships: Will Byer/Bill Denbrough and background Richie Tozier/Mike Wheeler and Eleven Hopper/Stanley Uris

Rating: This first part is rated G- other two parts are rated M

Summary: The story where Will and Bill pine over each other helplessly in a coffee shop and Mike and Richie are meddling little shits.

Now that they've met they've gotten past the awkward stage...right?

There’s a coffee loft in downtown New York that has been humbly dubbed “The Bean'' by its loyal customers. The real name of the shop is printed on the window front, but the font is so faded that it’s hard to tell what it originally said. The name “The Bean” came about because, unlike the painted name of the loft, a big faded cartoon coffee bean is still visible on the window pane.

No one knows why the paint of the Bean has withstood through the years and not the paint of the name. At this point, it doesn’t matter. The Bean is cracked and dirty with age and it just fits .

The Bean is just out of the way enough to be an inconvenience to tourists but for locals, it’s a hot spot. It has a comforting atmosphere with its mismatch couches and corner tables. The furniture is a mixed drab of whatever the Owner was able to find at the thrift store. They have the same two baristas who never mess up an order and the place plays smooth jazz softly over the speakers.

This place is perfect for an artist like Will Byers.

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon he heads there after his morning class, his satchel full of sketchbooks and pens. He is a very patient man but his roommate has a way of working his nerves so it’s easier to work somewhere else. It’s like the guy has never heard of headphones- and he's always playing some garage band music.

The barista, a sweet girl named Addy, rings up his usual as he walks in the door, the ‘ding!’ of the bell behind him. The smell of cinnamon warms his nose and he already starts to relax. It’s reminiscent of home.

He pays for his hot chai tea; two dollars and fifty cents, with a small “, thank you” to Addy as he heads to his little corner. Mike may give him shit for hating the taste of coffee and still hanging out at the coffee loft, but Mike has never tried The Bean’s chai tea.

There’s a corner of the loft that has this old loveseat couch and a coffee table in front of it. When Will first started coming here he would sit on the floor with his back against the couch and do his work on the table. When the Owner saw this, Mr. Brandis, he insisted on getting Will an easel for him to work on instead.

Will tried to tell the older man that it was too much but Mr. Brandis had money to blow so he bought Will one anyways. Mr. Brandis hasn’t been in the shop much anymore and Addy tells him it’s because his arthritis is getting worse in his old age. A shame, Will genuinely enjoyed Mr. Brandis’s presence.

The easel is already set up for him and he pulls his biggest sketchbook out and sets it on it. With the easel, he does get to sit on the couch now which is nice. With his drink warming his hands, he scrutinizes his work. It’s his art midterm, the first one of his freshman year, and he’s a little nervous.

Going to school for art is such a cliche. The eye rolls and the ‘oh that’s…nice’ he’s had to hear from high school teachers and other grown-ups. He knows. It’s just that he couldn’t bring himself to go to school for something he didn’t care about. That said, he’d rather not fall into the “starving artist stereotype”. If he can create a good-, no; a great piece for his midterm, it feels like this could be worth it.

A silly notion, he knows.

Right now he’s just in the sketching phases. The prompt for the midterm is “Character of light.” He doesn’t have a clue how his project is going to come out. Character of light?- Maybe he should paint his mom.

There’s a "ding!" of the door and Will looks up, is it really that time already?

There’s another reason Will frequents The Bean. A guy that looks around his age, who shows up every day at noon, orders a different drink every time and sits in the same spot across the shop. Will studies him as he chats with Addy, who laughs at something he said. He’s getting some iced drink despite the dropping temperature outside.

When he turns away from the counter with his drink their eyes lock. The guy gives him a polite smile and Will smiles back; before going to his booth. The same routine every Tuesday and Thursday.

Will has affectionately dubbed this stranger “the Writer”. At his booth, he pulls out his laptop and will type away at something. Will has wondered many times what exactly he’s writing. It’s a fiction story, he thinks, because the Writer always has notebooks on the table too. Like he’s keeping track of details in a story. On second thought that could work for writing non-fiction as well but this guy doesn’t look like a boring non-fiction writer. He can’t explain it, he just knows.

Dressed in flannel (always flannel) with his ripped jeans and his auburn hair tucked up underneath a beanie, the occasional strands escaping. He looks so mundane but to the careful eye, you can tell he looks like someone who has something to say. Will hopes he says it. Hopes he gets to hear it.

That would mean talking to him and that’s not something he’ll do. Will Byers doesn’t talk to strangers. People he doesn’t even know the name of. No no no, he’s perfectly content secretly pining over the Writer from his little corner.

Will sighs and gets to work on his midterm as the Writer boots up his laptop. Once the screen is on and he’s clacking away, the Writer won’t look up for anything. Zeroed in on his work, like Will needs to be. He can’t help it! He’s an artist, he likes pretty things! And the Writer is very pretty.

For the next two hours Will sketches and erases portraits of his mom. Would it be too cheesy to choose his mom for this prompt? He could do his sister El, but that may be just as cheesy. At the end of it, all he’s accomplished is to make himself frustrated. It’s time to go home. He glances at the Writer one last time as he always leaves before him.

He picks up his things and politely says goodbye to Addy as he throws his drink away. Maybe he’ll get lucky and his roommate will have gone out for the night.

The New York air is cold on the tip of his nose. Mid-October was bringing in that cold air with a vengence.

“Hey! Wait up!”

Thinking of October he has no idea who he’s going for Halloween. Does the Party want to do a group costume or have they outgrown that? He doesn’t think- A hand grabs his shoulder and Will jerks back. Is this his first mugging?

No, it’s not a mugging because when he turns around it’s the Writer standing there. His cheeks are red and he’s panting and he’s holding Will’s dorm pass.

“You dropped this back there, I figured you weren’t getting home without it.” The man explains.

“I- thank you.” After months they’ve never said a word to each other, just shared little smiles as the writer got his coffee.

“Just being a good citizen,” he laughs. There’s something to his voice. It’s slow and he can’t tell if it’s just because this guy has an accent or what. Before handing the pass back to Will he looks at it, nodding appreciatively, “NYU, that’s a good school.”

He hands the pass back to him, their fingertips just briefly brush, “It is, thanks," he dismisses.

The Writer smiles at him, “Well ss-see you Thursday!” and heads back the way he came, back towards The Bean.

Will stands there for a minute with a blush on his cheeks and stunned at his own stupidity. “It is”? He couldn’t have thought to ask the guy if he went to school there too? Start a conversation? He now knows the guy knows his schedule too but that could mean anything. God, he feels like an idiot.

Bill Denbrough is an idiot.

He sits there, staring at his laptop screen and chewing at his fingernails. Why did he grab Art guy? Cute Art guy to be exact. He looked like he scared the guy half to death.

After months of his romantic pinning, he couldn’t stop himself from taking the chance. When he saw Art guy’s dorm pass fall out of his back pocket as he was leaving it was like fate. The universe was saying, “Now’s your chance Denbrough,” and he fucking blew it! Very Bill of him as Richie would say.

And why did he come off as a stalker?! “NYU, that’s a nice school”?! He dropped out of that school! That’s not even the worst part, the pass was in his hand and he didn’t check the name. Now the guy is stuck being dubbed ‘Art guy’. Dammit, Denbrough! The guy probably thinks he’s a creep.

Groaning, he slams his laptop shut. The words aren’t coming to him as steadily as they usually are. Maybe he calls it an early night and sees if Richie is down to grab a drink. A real drink, not whatever surgery crap Addy concocted today. Plus Richie is always down to drink, even on weekdays. Perks of being the two college dropouts of the Losers club.

“Bye Addy!” he yells over her shoulder. The poor girl is sweeping, getting an early start on closing since she has to do it all alone. The other barista (Diana? He thinks that’s her name.) hides in the back, playing on her phone. They really should hire someone else.

Thursday rolls around and Will is a bundle of nerves. He keeps going back and forth on whether or not he should go. But it would be weird to break his routine suddenly. Oh but his nerves! He knows he came off so cold the Writer! Should he apologize or would that be weird?

He’s still deciding when Mike texts him that he’s joining Will at The Bean. A blessing and a curse. If he chooses not to go now he’d have to explain why to Mike and he would just ask too many questions. His friends are aware of his routines, and Mike and El have joined him at the coffee loft a couple of times. El when she really needs to focus on her school work and Mike when he just needs to relax for a little.

Mike is already sitting in his spot when he arrives. Chai tea on the table alongside Mike’s usual order of americano and a blueberry muffin. Will takes his seat next to Mike. He doesn’t feel like drawing today, his legs are too jumpy.

Mike being Mike immediately notices, “What’s got you in a bunch?”

“Nothing.”

In lew of arguing Mike hands him his chai tea. He regrets it, the cup shakes in his hand. Mike looks at him with a, “You gonna tell me now?” expression.

Will sips his tea in spite, “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Mike starts in on him, “And I’m straight. Was it class? Was professor Harlen a dick to you again? Or was it your roommate? I swear if he-”

“I’m fine!” he lowers his voice as he gets a grumpy look from an old lady in an armchair, “I’m sorry Miss Baker,” he whispers to her. She glares at him for a moment longer before returning to her Cosmo magazine. Mike looks at him expectantly. He sighs, “It’s this guy.”

“It’s this guy?” Mike repeats back to him, “What guy? Did he do something to you or something?”

For someone so smart, Mike can be a bit dense at times. “No he didn’t do anything to me!” he hurriedly whispers, “I just- I just happen to think he’s cute.”

This piques Mike’s interest. For a reason too. Will doesn’t often get ‘crushes’. He feels like such a schoolgirl. “And what happened with this cute guy?” Mike asks.

So, against his better judgment he tells Mike about the incident on Tuesday…and about how he’s been harboring a crush on this guy for months. He can’t look at Mike’s smug face.

“Sooo that’s why you love this place,” the bastard teases.

“I love this place because Addy makes a good chai tea,” he says, getting defensive. There’s a telltale feeling of a stupid blush warming his cheeks.

Mike hums, “So when does Lover boy get here? You said he’s a regular here as you?”

Looking at his booth he realizes what time it is, “He’s um, he’s actually supposed to be here right now.”

He must sense the apprehension in Will’s voice, “I’m sure he’s just running late, that’s all,” Mike tries to reassure.

But Will isn’t listening, he’s thinking about how he came off cold to the guy and now he’s ruined everything. The Writer is probably never going to come here again and that means he’s never going to get to see him again and he never even got to learn his name. God, he’s so stu- Oh wait.

As Will’s eyes were scanning the room they landed on the outside window where the Writer is standing outside next to someone. He has his bag with him so it appears he’s coming in, just chatting to someone right now.

The tension leaves his shoulders and he nods his head towards the window, “Nevermind he’s outside talking to that guy. He’s the one in the gray flannel.”

“The one he’s smoking a cigarette with?” Mike asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Mmm yeah I guess.” Honestly, he’s only ever seen the Writer smoke a couple of times before and it’s always with this same guy before he comes inside sometimes. At first, he feared the other guy was the Writer's boyfriend but the pair have only ever playfully shoved each other when one of them had, apparently, said something stupid. They remind him of Lucas and Dustin.

And there’s the fact that few and far in between, a couple of the Writer's friends have joined him in The Bean. None of them acts less platonic than the other.

The Writer finishes his cigarette before snubbing it out and tossing it. The other guy, his friend, ruffles the Writer’s hair before walking down the street.

Will finds himself holding his breath as he pulls the door open.

“At least he’s the cute one, would have seriously judged you if it was the other guy. The one with the curls looks like he needs a bath,” Mike says with a grimace, unaware of Will’s state.

He agrees noncommittally, trying not to stare but also can’t look away as the Writer places his order. The Writer got something hot today and when he turns around, as always, he makes eye contact with Will.

Instead of rolling his eyes or scowling, or any of Will’s worst fears, the writer smiles and waves. Somehow Will manages to give a small wave back. The Writer, seeming pleased, grins one last time before heading to his booth.

Well…that was new.

“Oh ho ho,” Mike chuckles, “Looks like you didn’t come off too cold to him.”

“Shut up,” he scolds but he’s smiling.

Mike taps his finger to his chin, “I think that you should go talk to him.”

It’s almost comical how quickly Will snaps his head towards Mike, stuttering, “Wh-what? It was just a wave, not an invitation to go bother him!” he whispers yells. He is not risking the Writer overhearing him.

“But it could be an invitation to go bother him, you don’t know,” Will glowers at him and Mike holds his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying! If you want to sit over here and continue to pine for even more months like a sad Disney Channel movie heroine, that’s your deal. You could at least ask his name,” Mike smiles mischievously, “Or I could go ask for his name.”

Will stands up, “Okay we’re leaving.”

“What why?”

“Because I don’t trust you. Come on, get up.”

Hopefully, it wasn’t as embarrassing as it was in his head, leading out Mike who was fighting a fit of giggles. Good to know his love life is funny.

“You know you’re overthinking this right?”

Bill resists rolling his eyes at Stan, yes he knows this. He’s Bill, he overthinks everything, it’s a part of his personality at this point. “Doesn’t matter,” he disregards, “I’ve been s-smiled zoned.”

Stan does roll his eyes at him, “That’s not a thing, stop being overdramatic."

He huffs at his friend. Stan uses a coffee stirrer to push back his cuticles as he sits across from Bill at his booth. He doesn’t often accompany Bill to The Bean but today is a special occasion. Richie got a job here and today was his first day.

A few weeks ago Mr. Brandis finally fired that lazy barista. Addy basically runs the shop anyway so it didn’t affect her but Mr. Brandis still insisted on filling the position.

So Bill got Richie the job. He’s always complaining about having no money, free open mics don’t exactly pay, so now he has a day job. Bill’s happy for him but it is oh so infuriating. His friends are the worst. That’s it.

Richie has been working all day so he was there when Addy took Art guy’s order, he knows his name and he won’t tell Bill. He texted Richie as he was walking here with Stan and Richie just sent him the middle finger again emoji. Then he asked again when he placed his order and the jerk just smiled smugly, miming zipping his lips.

But he still smiled at Art guy when he turned around- and waved. Waving is part of their new routine now. He was so scared he fucked it up when he chased him down the street to return his pass that he decided to take a chance the next time he saw him. If Art guy waved back then hope wasn’t lost. Bill considers himself lucky that he did.

Now a whole month later, they have come to an impasse. The only new development was the wave. He still sits at his booth and pines over Art guy, stealing glances at him when he’s not looking. At his point, he knows he’s getting on his friend’s nerves, particularly Stan and Richie’s.

“I don’t even know if he’s gay Stan,” he almost whines.

Stan takes a glance towards Art guy and looks at Bill with a raised eyebrow, “Are you serious right now?”

“What? S-serious about what?”

“Bill Denbrough you’re a dumbass,” he sighs, “That guy couldn’t scream more gay if he had a shirt on saying it.”

He scrunches his nose, “I don’t understand, how can you tell?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because he dresses way too nice for a straight guy,” Stan states matter of factly.

“Ben is st-straight and he dresses nicely.”

Stan looks almost pained, “Ben isn’t straight Bill.”

“Wh-what?! Since when?!”

He rolls his eyes again and is chastising him for his lack of gaydar when the door chimes and stops mid-rant. Stan never stops mid-rant so he’s immediately turning around to see who came in.

Oh, it’s just her. The girl with curly brown hair who’s always slightly smiling is one of Art guy’s friends.

But she’s not just a girl to Stan apparently. Bill watches his eyes as his eyes watch her, following her from where she goes to place her order and then to sit next to Art guy. Stan’s mouth is still hanging open from where he was speaking mid-sentence.

He doesn’t bother to hide his snigger when Stan’s attention finally returns to him. Stan glares at him but asks anyways, “Does she often come here with him?”

Bill finds a sudden interest in his nails, feeling completely smug about the whole thing. Stan and Richie have been giving him shit about not talking to Art guy and here Stan is gaping at one of his friends. “Hmmm, I don’t know, why? You feeling smuh-smitten suddenly?” He’s not looking up from his nails as he says it, going for the full effect of bastard.

Stan throws his coffee stirrer at him, “I’m definitely not telling you Art guy's name now!” he hisses.

Bill squawks, “How do you know his name?!”

“Because Richie texted me it on the way here!”

“I have the worst friends,” he pouts, sliding down into the booth.

Mike is surprised and annoyed to see Will’s Lover boy’s friend behind the counter the next time he visits The Bean. Will is still on his way and Mike tends to get here before him anyways when he joins him.

Before he approaches the counter he knows this guy is going to get on his nerves. He just looks dirty! His curls need a brush and his black fingernail polish is chipped to hell. To make it worse he can see the horrendous orange shirt behind his black apron. Who let him go out like this?! Why is it weirdly attractive?!

The guy- ‘Richie’ as it says in a messy scribble on his name tag greets him with an all too big smile, “Hey good lookin' what can I get brewin' for ya?” He sings songs.

He resists glaring; just barely, and orders, “I’ll have an americano and a blueberry muffin. Oh and a hot chai tea.”

“Two drinks?” Richie asks as he rings him up, “What? You got a date coming? And your total is eight dollars and ninety five cents.”

“I’m just ordering for my friend that’s joining me- not that it’s any of your business.” He tosses a ten-dollar bill towards the barista who annoyingly catches it.

He hums, “No date, is it bold of me to assume you’re single then?”

“Just get me my coffee,” he bites out a “please,” so that he doesn’t come off as too rude.

Richie chuckles and grabs two cups and a pen, “Before I do that I need to get your name pretty boy.”

He positively does not blush at that, “It’s Mike.”

“And the other name?” he asks him, scribbling Mike’s name on the cup and picking up the other one, “The name of your supposed friend?”

“It’s Will.”

That makes Richie stop mid-writing and look up at him with an eyebrow raised, “Will? As the one who comes in every Tuesday and Thursday?”

“Yeah that’s him, he has a weird obsession with this place,” Mike tells him, confusion lacing his tone.

“Does his obsession with this place have anything to do with the hopeless writer that sits right at the booth over there?”

The pieces are starting to fall into place as he catches on, “I do believe it does,” a smirk is tugging at his lips.

Richie leans over the counter, matching him with his own Cheshire grin, “Tell me, Micheal, are you also sick of them and their dramatic pining?”

“You have no idea.” He loves Will, really, but ever since Will told him about his crush it’s all he wants to talk about. Mike can recall the different colors of plaid the Writer has worn the last two Tuesdays and Thursdays because Will has insisted on telling him.

“Well well I think it’s time I execute my plan 'The Williams’,” he sees Mike looking at him questioningly and clarifies, “Oh my friend’s name is Bill, they’re both named William so I guess it’s good they go by different nicknames because otherwise, that shit would be confusing.”

“Hmph look at that,” he muses.

Richie challenges him, “So you ready to hear my plan?”

He thinks about it for a minute. Will hates it when his friends get involved in his love life so does he really want to deal with the inevitable grouchy Will over this? On the other hand, can he stand to hear about how the sun filtered in on The Writ- Bill’s hair one more time? With that in mind, he nods.

Richie shoots him a wink, “Great, knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he calls over his shoulder to the other barista who was stocking syrups, “Hey Addy would you mind coming over here for a sec? I got something to ask.”

Will doesn’t notice anything off when he enters The Bean. Mike is sitting over on his loveseat couch, their drinks sitting on the table and his muffin half eaten on the plate.

He also doesn’t notice Mike’s lack of overflowing conversation as he watches for the Writer, no interest in working on his project for the new term. He got an A on his midterm so that’s subsided his worries about his career choice for a while. He painted his mom, Hop, Jonathan, and El. His family- his characters of light. His work was so good that his professor didn’t care that he chose multiple subjects.

Between watching the clock and humming an agreeing noise whenever it sounds like Mike has asked him a question, time moves quickly.

The Writer comes in right on time and heads to the counter. His friend, the one he occasionally shares a cigarette with, has started working here so it’s been fun to watch their interactions. His friend’s name is Richie. Will likes him, he’s only been here for about a week but he’s always super nice to him. Sometimes Will wishes he had the courage to ask him about the Writer but that would be too obvious.

Will watches as the Writer and Richie exchange words, the Writer flips him off and Richie makes kissy faces at him. He wonders what on Earth they’re talking about. The Writer gets his drink, a warm one today, and on cue turns around to smile and wave at him. As always Will waves back.

Something Will does notice is Mike’s lack of snark over it. He eyes his friend, “What? No teasing today?”

Mike gives him an unimpressed look, “I don’t know what to tell you, William, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Will rolls his eyes, “Whatever- and don’t call me William. It’s weird.”

They make ideal chit-chat, Mike finishing off his muffin and Will drinking his chai. Lucas’s birthday is coming up so they discuss what to get him. The man who notoriously just goes out and buys the things he wants himself. Meanwhile the Writer is pretty invested in the story he’s writing so Will risks a couple more glances than usual.

The sound of Addy's voice interrupts his and Mike's conversation. “Special order for William from Mr. Brandis!” she calls out, putting two drinks on the counter.

He just stares up at the counter, confused. Mike nudges him, “I think she’s talking to you.”

Since when does Addy call him William and why even would Mr. Brandis order him a drink? He’s not even in today! ….He thinks.

Hesitantly he stands and walks towards the counter. Addy is taking an order for another customer and Richie has magically disappeared. She gives him a quick smile as he approaches.

The two paper cups are empty when he picks them up; there are no drinks. What is going on here? One of the cups says ‘Will’ and the other is labeled ‘Bill’.

“What the fuck R-Rich,” Comes from behind him, making him jump.

It’s the Writer and he turns around and sees that he looks annoyed. He’s still confused as to what is going on and is starting to worry that he somehow did something wrong.

The Writer quickly drops his look of annoyance though, trying to smile instead but it’s tense, “I’m ss-sorry. I think my friend is playing a prank.”

Will looks down at the cup named ‘Bill’ and holds it out to him, “Is this you?”

He takes it and observes it, “Yeah I’m Bill- sadly,” he looks at the other cup in his hands, “What does yours s-say?”

Will tries not to snicker but it’s kinda funny, the guy he’s been pining over has his name, “It says Will, short for William.”

It seems like it finally dawns on Bill, “Oh shit we have the same name!” he says, a little too excited. It makes Will squirm, and his cheeks hurt from trying not to smile too big but he's just as nervous. Scared he’ll say the wrong thing and lose this chance.

Bill steps closer to him and he can smell his woodsy cologne and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. For some reason he completely expected the Writer, Bill, to smell like this. He talks again in that slow voice of his, “Do you want to come sit down with me? Can’t let a special order from Mr. Brandis go to waste.” His words are smooth but his smile is boyish and cheeky and it is utterly charming.

But then Will remembers Mike and in a panic looks over towards him...only to see that Mike is no longer there. He’s standing outside The Bean, looking in through the window and giving him a thumbs up before proceeding to fake gag. Very Mike of him.

So Will turns to Bill and nods, “I’ll sit with you only if you tell me about that story of yours I’ve seen you writing.”

Bill’s eyes light up, “Deal but only if you let me ss-see some of your artwork,” he goads.

That sounds more than fair to him.

A/N: AAAAAA I know it seems like it ends abruptly but that's what chapter two is for ;)

Thank you for reading! Please comment if you enjoyed!

#i finished this look at me #willbill #elstan #wheelzier #bill denbrough #will byers #mike wheeler #richie tozier #eleven hopper #stanley uris #it 2017 #it 2019 #stanger things #stranger things 4

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katevd · 2 years ago

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This is The Care

Holy shit I wrote a Mileven fic.

Mike x Eleven

One Shot Fluff, Rated G

References: 1x06 The Monster 1x07 The Bathtub 4x08 Papa

Dedicated to my Mike, my soulmate, my best friend.

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40 minutes after Eleven explained everything she saw when visiting their friends in the void, the back of the van got quiet. The soft jams of Bob Marley pumped from the speakers. Jonathan is still at the wheel, nervous, checking the mirrors to see if anyone is tailing them. Argyle is quietly stoned, sunglasses on, looking over the map. The sun will be setting soon and they need a phone to book a flight home. Will, always quiet, is worried, staring out the window, his knee bouncing wishing the van would go faster to get there faster, El has to help their friends. His painting to Mike is rolled back up behind them; there are other more important things.

Mike and Eleven are sitting facing each other, their legs touching. El is staring into space, a tear rolls down her dusty cheek. Mike, who is letting El have some space but not too much, has his hand on the side of her thigh in support, his thumb rubs her softly. He’s trying hard not stare at her but for the last days only wished he could see her again, keep her safe. Loosing Dr. Brenner for El must be difficult. She shared he used her to find Henry, 001, re opened the gate and the rest of the story begins. Her tears double as she tries to hide a sob. Papa is dead. She didn't give him his wish, but her pain about it is more complicated than that, but it’s still loss. Eleven would not forgive him for what he did to Terry, her Mama. There was no kindness there. But her powers had returned because he believed, Dr. Owens believed. Now Papa is dead and Owens was captured, they’re so far from Hawkins and Max’s plan would not work. All felt lost.

Mike watched her hide under her skin. He reached for a clean Surfer Boy Pizza napkin in the van, not one dried with agent man’s blood or pizza sauce. He bundled it in his fingers to soften it. He touches her chin so gingerly with his long fingers to turn her head a little. She turns slowly with his touch to see him, holding to her stoic face with teary eyes.

"Hey" he whispers in their little bubble. He dabs and wipes her tear away still holding her chin, wiping the new ones too. "I know it hurts" she closes her eyes to squeeze the rest out. She shakes her head no, lowering it. He raises it for her and looks in her pretty brown eyes "it’s ok.” His voice is full of love. “I understand." Mike dries her tears; his thumb touches her so softly, like a feather. This is the care he spoke of and El felt it. She stares back before she holds his hand with hers, she nods in agreement. Mike leans into her cheek and gives her a sweet kiss. The touch warms her. They lace their fingers together, palms together.

His lips curl to a smile; he remembers when he cleaned her in his basement bathroom. Eleven saved his life from the quarry, in more ways than just lifting him up. She called herself a monster which was the opposite of what she is. Mike knew she was an angel, he just knew. His angel. His superhero. The feelings sounded right but the words…the words always escaped him. He wanted to tell her I love you, I love you so much El Hopper, he wanted to say it in this van. But in his life those words, so many times, meant goodbye. His Grandpa Sully only said it to him on his death bed; Mike was 9 and didn’t understand. The fear of telling El and then something would happen…it kept him up at night. It kept him from giving her what she deserved in her letters.

He wiped a bit of dried dirt under her ear lobe with the napkin. He kissed her on her neck, she folded closer into him. His fingertips ran through her new buzz cut. He whispers into the ear he just kissed "Still pretty." She cracks a smile; he can feel it on his face. It feels like sunlight. "Really pretty."

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#stranger things 4 #mike x eleven #mileven #el hopper #mike wheeler #one shot #fan fic

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

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Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #harringrove #it’s implied harringrove at least because Steve is the boyfriend in question #story by ej!#ej writer #this is really sloppy but I wanted to just get this outta my drafts so here ya go #it was also initially from a much larger story #I just decided this was the only part I like #if you take note of the date tho I think y’all can probably tell where I was going with this #just wanted to write Billy coming out to Max because we as a fandom kinda decided that she already knew bc of that one vague convo #but like that stuff is really hard to pick up on when you’re the clueless little sister #(trust me lol)#I think it’s more something like maybe she snitched on him for doing smthn neil knew was Bc he was gay but she didn’t #and she never put the pieces together until he told her #featuring (subtle) autistic Max bc when doesn’t my writing #and colorblind Billy if you squint with the nail polish

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

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Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 4

Summary: How do you tell your best friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Warnings: Kissing, and some light petting, underage drinking?

Word Count: 5.7K

Levi wasn't surprised to see that Erwin and Hange did not in fact make an appearance at Mike's party. The party turned out to be much bigger than he anticipated, even freshman showed up. Petra was social, dragging him with her as she bounced around the house, easily conversing with the other party goers. Levi licked his lips as he brought his red solo cup back up to his mouth for another sip. In that moment that dipshit Eren Jaeger brushed past him, jostling him and causing a few drops of his drink to land on his stark white hoodie. His grey eyes locked on the brunette who held his hands up as he apologized profusely. The red kool aid that he had used to mix in his drink already staining.

Petra remained deathly still, as did Gunther as they waited for his reaction. Levi scoffed, pushing past Eren and stalked towards the front door, meaning to go remove the stain with his tide pen he kept in his car. Eren sighed with relief as he watched the raven haired male retreat. Petra groaned, slapping Eren's shoulder before following Levi out of the house. She found him standing by his car, the trunk popped as he rummaged through his bag of miscellaneous items that he kept in case of emergencies.

Petra kept her distance as she watched him pull the soiled sweat shirt over his head, the t-shirt he wore underneath riding up as well, revealing his creamy abdomen. The moon was bright above, casting ominous shadows across Mike's wooded yard. Petra shifted uncomfortably as she watched Levi dab at the red stain, his eyebrows pinched together in concentration. She wasn't sure what was wrong with Levi but he was more tense than usual. She figured that he wasn't in the mood for a party, but then again when was he not? Technically the two weren't exclusive, although that was Petra's end game. He sighed in frustration, setting the sweat shirt down in his trunk and throwing the pen in carelessly.

"Forget it. I'm going to Erwin's to properly remove this stain." he said as he shut the trunk. Petra blinked, wandering if that meant he wanted her to accompany him to the Smith residence.

"Oh...I'll go with you!" she said enthusiastically, turning to walk around the car to the passenger side. Levi shook his head and waved her off.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll just catch up with you tomorrow." he said as he climbed into the drivers seat and started the car. Petra felt the brief sting of rejection as she watched him pull out of the drive way. But then she remembered his promise to speak with her the next day and decided that this would be good enough for now. A small victory in this long fight for Levi's attention and affections.

Levi drove slowly down the empty county road. This was a bad idea and he knew it, Erwin was mad at him, he was probably the last person he wanted to see. But still Levi turned into the long winding drive, sure to shut his head lights off. The house sat on a slight hill, the wrap around porch had been decorated with strings of bat lights, and various pumpkins and gourds. The olive green paint job always looked best in the fall with the colorful leaves of the forrest surrounding the house. He pulled into his usual spot under the basketball hoop, he shut off the engine and leaned onto the center counsel to peek into the large windows.

Erwin's minivan was absent, as was Hange's CRV. The house was uncharacteristically dark, usually you would be in the kitchen cooking, or maybe seated in the living room with Hange working on homework. Erwin would usually spend his time in the dining room away from Hange's ranting while he tried to work. Levi climbed out of his seat and popped the trunk, pulling his sweatshirt from the trunk. He locked his car, pausing to flip through his key ring for the spare house key that Erwin had given to him quite some time ago. He hesitated before inserting the key into the lock. He turned it slowly, relieved to hear the lock click, he turned the knob and stepped cautiously into the dark entry way. He kicked off his shoes and frowned at the lack of shoes on the mat. He did recognize your filthy air force 1s but he didn't see Erwin's massive nikes or Hange's ancient chocos.

He continued on into the kitchen, setting his keys down on the counter with a heavy sigh of defeat. He then refocused on the task at hand, setting off down the dark hall to the laundry room. He switched the light on and set to work on scrubbing the stain out. Levi sighed with relief as he studied his hard work. Just as he hung the sweat shirt up to dry he heard a creak from upstairs. He shut the door to the laundry room and slowly made his way down the dark hall. He rounded the corner, his gunmetal eyes widening a fraction when he met your own (e/c) eyes. He stopped before he could bump into you, your hands flew up and clutched at the small towel that was wrapped around you, your damp hair gathered in another towel. You screamed, staggering backwards, your back hitting the wall and the towel wrapped around your head falling off as you clutched at your chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You managed to gasp out as you regulated your racing heart. Levi whipped his head to the side, favoring to look into the dark hall way then acknowledge the lack of clothing you wore. You sighed as you relaxed, turning to walk around Levi and down the hall to the laundry room. Levi turned his head sharply to look the opposite direction once again, a small dusting of pink covered his cheeks. He had never seen you so well... naked. He flinched when you brushed past him again, only this time you were wearing one of Erwin's hoodies, your fists balled up at the bottom to add length to the long sweat shirt.

"Don't look you perv!" you yelped, your face redder than a tomato as you shuffled past him. Levi brought his hand up and over his eyes, fighting a smirk.

"Don't flatter yourself, not like you've got much to look at." he scoffed, pleased to hear you gasp at the jab.

"What are you even doing here?" you sputtered, leaning against the wall and tugging the front of the sweatshirt down over the tops of your thighs.

"I had to remove a stain on my sweat shirt. Stupid Jeager kid spilled my drink." he grunted, groping blindly for the edge of the counter to lean against. You smiled at the sight, his hand finally landing on the counter, he pulled himself closer and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Why'd you come here? Why not just ask Mike to use his shit?" you asked relaxing a bit without his intense gaze on your vulnerable self.

"Have you smelled the guy? I doubt he knows where the detergent is kept in his house." Levi scoffed as he made himself comfortable, using his foot to pull a stool out to sit on.

"H-Have you eaten anything?" you asked after a moment.

"No, why does it matter?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he listened to you shift against the wall. You turned back down the hall way and dug around in the hamper, finally finding a pair of old boxers to tug on. You immediately felt better now that you were at least half way dressed.

"You want anything? I have leftovers." you offered, he felt your presence behind him as you walked to the fridge.

"Uh..." you were weird like that, always so tolerable of his teasing. You were beginning to take on more of Erwin's characteristics, although you weren't as much of a push over as he was just yet.

"Fine, I could eat." he said, spreading his fingers to see you pawing through the fridge, your back to him. He frowned at the sight of the forest green boxers that hung loosely off your hips. Not just any boxers, his boxers. The ones that he kept here along with a few other items of clothing since he basically lived here anyway. He quickly clenched his fingers together again as you turned around with your arms full of Chinese food containers.

"Oh, you can look now." you mumbled awkwardly as you dished out some fried rice and lo mein noodles into a dish to microwave. Levi drug his hand down his face, stopping over his mouth to cover his smirk as he took in your appearance. Damp hair, Erwin's sweat shirt no longer covering your lower half, the baggy boxers sagging enough to show your hip bones.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked, pointing a finger at the underwear. Your face turning red once again.

"Erwin's laundry, don't make it weird okay?" you said as you turned back to the task at hand.

"Those aren't Erwin's." Levi deadpanned, his eyes trained on your waist. You froze, your eyes widening at his words, if your face had been red before, it was now crimson.

"I-" what were you supposed to do? Say sorry? Go change? This was so awkward.

"Keep em. They look better on you anyway." he huffed in amusement as you finally turned to look at him.

"Gross." was all you said, your ears and neck flushed as you stuck the plate into the microwave. Levi smirked at the sight of you leaning up on your tiptoes, your hair had left a damp spot on Erwin's white sweatshirt. You set the timer for a minute, settling back onto your feet you began running your fingers through your damp hair to untangle the knots.

"So...you really left a party to get a stain out of your sweatshirt?" you asked, a small smile spreading across your face.

"Yeah, would've bugged me all night." he sighed, the mere thought of the red ugly stain making him cringe.

"Really? Was it a good party?" you pressed, a knowing smirk curling onto your face as you began to understand why he had really left.

"It was mediocre." Levi grunted, raising to his feet he moved to the cabinet with pots and pans. He pulled out the tea kettle and filled it water to boil. Leaning against the counter, Levi took the opportunity to check you out some more. Although you were still young, he still appreciated the insane amount that you had grown in the short time he had known you.

He could remember you being a snotty brat, begging to be included. He remembered the time that you had gotten into a scrap with Nile, the older boy had easily won, much to all the boys amusement. He huffed at the memory, those were simpler times. He finished filling the kettle, he slid past you to set the pot on the stove, you flinched and he frowned. He lit the stove before turning to study your face, your nose was wrinkled at his closeness, eyes glued to his hands, your mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, genuinely curious in your answer. You blinked, your eyes turning to meet his steely gaze as he waited for an answer. Memories of Levi and Erwin's other buddies chasing you around the house, pulling your hair, or just being plain cruel to you.

"No...not really." you said, your voice cracking, of course you were weary around him given your past encounters, but you knew he wouldn't hurt you too bad.

"Then don't act like it. Makes me feel guilty." he scoffed, still standing uncharacteristically close to you. Relief flooded you when the sound of the microwave filled the kitchen. You pulled the food from the microwave and turned to grab a fork for Levi. You stuck the fork into the food and handed Levi the plate, he thanked you, but remained standing next to you. He twirled the noodles onto his fork and took a bite, his eyes still fixated on your own. He chewed the food slowly, his eyes shifted around the kitchen, and he frowned, where had Hange and Erwin ran off to?

"So, where did your idiot brother run off to then?" he asked casually, taking another bite of the noodles.

"Oh, um I think he and Hange went out to dinner and back to her place." you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you eyed a bottle of wine that you had been meaning to open.

"Hange's place?" Levi quirked a brow at the notion, her parents were almost as crazy as her, the house was basically the laboratory, filled with petri dishes and lab rats.

"Yeah, I guess her folks are out on some research trip." you shrugged, moving to open the bottle of red wine. Levi sank back onto the stool, his eyes turned downward as he focused on the food.

"Figures." he scoffed as he twirled another fork-full of noodles.

"Wine?" you asked, digging the opener into the cork. Levi shook his head and held up a hand, seeing as his mouth was full.

"Suite yourself." you muttered as you popped the cork from the bottle, you stretched up to grab a wine glass for yourself. Levi once again appreciated the way your ass looked in his underwear, cringing once he realized he was checking you out. Erwin would annihilate him if he found out that Levi was checking you out. He averted his gaze and quickly finished his noodles and rice, fighting off the thoughts of you and your perfect ass. You poured yourself a full glass and Levi raised a skeptical brow at the sight.

Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you sipped the wine, a sigh escaping your lips as you wandered into the living room and sank onto the couch. Levi placed his dishes in the sink, turning his attention to the low whistle of the kettle. He turned the stove off and poured him self a cup of chamomile tea. He dunked the tea bag in the hot water as he pondered following you, or going into the guest room to pass out. He chose the former. Placing his cup down gently on the coaster, the glass clinking in the silence. You had your legs folded beneath you, arm resting on the arm of the couch holding your wine glass.

Your eyes shifted over to sneak a glance at him, but quickly averted when you were met with steely grey eyes. You slid your legs out from underneath you and swung them over the couch, the room was eerily quiet, only the sound of your heart racing in your chest as you withered under Levi's intense gaze.

"See, that's what I mean." he scoffed, leaning to grab his cup.

"What?" you yelped at his words.

"You act all jittery around me." Levi grunted, gesturing towards the way you had pressed yourself tightly against the arm of the couch.

"To be fair, you did pick on me a lot a few years back, and still do." you whispered the last part, your cheeks flushed from the wine and the honesty behind your words.

"Tch" Levi clicked his tongue, his intense gaze finally falling from your face to your lap, where your hands were fiddling with the stem of the wine glass. You swallowed thickly before setting the glass down on the coffee table, not caring enough to find a coaster. Levi frowned at the sight, leaning over, his hand landing on the couch beside your thigh as he reached to set your glass on the nearest coaster. You sank deeper into the leather, your heart racing when he didn't move his hand, his eyes flicked back onto you as he slowly brought his other hand to rest on the arm of the couch. Caging you in, he remained seated on the sofa, his thigh pressing against yours. You licked your lips as you stared into his cold eyes.

"Wha-"

"I don't want you to be scared of me anymore." he cut you off, his eyes suddenly much softer.

"It's okay really Levi, I promise." you whimpered as he shifted his weight again, his hand lifted off the sofa and fell on your upper thigh, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked down, your damp hair covering your eyes, cheeks flaring back up into a crimson blush. His head tilted to the side as he studied your reaction.

"Hey, look at me." he murmured, his hand squeezing to get your attention. You slowly lifted your chin and met his eyes, he sighed eyes soft as he studied your flustered face.

"I-Levi what are you doing?" you stuttered, his breath fanned over your face as he lowered his gaze to your lips.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he whispered as he leaned in, his hand sliding up from your thigh to disappear beneath the large hoodie. You allowed your own eyes to drift down to his lips as he neared you. His hands were cold and you flinched as he squeezed your side, you licked your lips, gathering the courage to close the gap. You sat up straighter, tilting your head to the right as you brushed the tip of your nose with Levi's. He let out a shaky breath, you could already taste the chamomile on his mouth, it was unbelievably enticing.

You'd never felt this intense urge before, not that wasn't the word. Lust. You timidly pressed your lips to his, your eyes screwed shut, all your senses overwhelmed with this intimate moment. Just as quickly as you had taken his lips with you own you pulled back, a loud smack filling the room as your lips parted. Levi followed you as you pulled away, his arm around your waist suddenly pulling you onto his lap as he relaxed back into the couch, now you sat perched over him, both of his hands holding your hips. He raised a brow at you as you splayed your hands across his chest, not missing the rapid beating of his heart.

"Your heart's beating really fast." you stated, a coy smirk spreading across your lips as you leaned in to nuzzle against his pale neck. Levi ran his hands up your sides, one wandering up your back beneath your hoodie, he paused not exactly shocked to find that you wore no bra. You turned, once again brushing your nose with his, but this time Levi was the one to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth wider for him. A sigh escaped your chest as you tasted the chamomile on his tongue, your own tongue brushing against his. You barely registered his hand on your jaw, little lone his other hand that tugged at the base of your hair on the back of your head. Your own hands gripped the front of his shirt for dear life as you pressed yourself down onto him. Finally you pulled back, the need for a full breath of oxygen overcoming your desire. Levi pressed his forehead against yours as you both inhaled deep lungfuls of air. His hand slid down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, his hand finally settled over your heart, fingers splayed across your collar bones.

"Your heart is also beating fast." he mused, grey eyes glinting mischievously as you blushed, his hands still cold against your burning skin.

"And you have cold hands." you snapped back, bringing your own hand to rest on top of Levi's. His other hand returned to your waist, toying with the hem of his boxers.

"Sorry." he muttered, releasing the hem so that it fell loosely over your hips once more, a small smirk on his lips as he watched them hang off your hips, relishing in the bare skin he could see. You grunted, leaning down to rest your head on his chest. The sound of his heart beating making you smile fondly. Just as Levi was moving to wrap his arms around you, you turned and grabbed your wine, taking a long sip, eyes trained on Levi. His gaze darkened at the sight of the liquid sliding down your throat as you swallowed.

He reached up and took the glass from your hands before returning it to its place on the coffee table. You pursed your lips as you watched him grip your hips tightly, suddenly he rolled you over, your back hitting the sofa with a soft thud. Your eyes widened as you looked up at Levi's stony face, his grey eyes shining in the dim moonlight that gleamed through the large windows. He was so beautiful, your breath caught in your throat as he leaned down to take your mouth in his once more, this time he kissed you slowly. His tongue lapping at yours, savoring the lingering taste of wine. You reciprocated his motions, your hands resting on his sides as he slowly sank down on top of you, his weight oddly comforting. When he pulled away a string of saliva connecting the two of you, a smile spread easily across your face as you admired Levi's delicate features. He furrowed his brows in confusion at your wide grin.

"What?" he whispered, sinking his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder, deeply inhaling your scent. You giggled, his breath tickling you.

"Nothing, just...I never anticipated..." you trailed off as you felt him stiffen above you.

"Huh?" he pulled back to examine your face as you spoke, a brow raised, unsure of the meaning behind your words.

"I just never thought you wanted to be my friend. I thought you barely tolerated my existence." you chuckled nervously, shifting your hips against his. He grunted, his lips were drawn into a thin line as he thought of what to say.

"You have... always been important to me." he finally settled on those words in hopes of calming your anxieties and insecurities.

"Oh? Well I guess that you are kinda important to me too." you smirked, enjoying the slight blush that painted his pale cheeks, and the way his brows drew together.

"Tch." he clicked his tongue and leaned down, planting a kiss on the corner of your lips, another giggle as you turned in an attempt to kiss him. He ducked his head once more into the crook of your neck and began kissing the skin he could reach, impatiently tugging the hoodie down to expose your collarbone. You turned to give him better access, your eyes slipping shut as you basked in his attention.

The loud ring of your phone startled both of you, Levi's lips withdrawing with a string of saliva attached to your neck. You groaned, digging your phone out from between the cushions, blinking in shock at Eren's name on your screen. Levi remained glued to your side, his arms keeping you close.

"Eren?" your voice was thick, breaths still short and airy as you tried to compose yourself.

"(Y/n)! Thank god I got a hold of you! I need a place to crash for the night, I'm piss drunk and Mike's place is filled to the brim." his voice was light, a bit suggestive if you strained your ears. Levi grunted, reminded of his unfortunate encounter with the hot headed boy.

"I guess you can stay here, you bringing your friends too?" you sighed as you rolled off of Levi to stand up and compose yourself.

"Uh yeah if that's alright." Eren mumbled back, feeling the slight sting of your subtle rejection.

"Ok, do you... need me to come get you guys or..." you asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Uh no, I think walking would do us some good, need to um sober up." he stuttered, your shoulders sagged with relief. You didn't have a car, or license meaning that Levi would have to drive you.

"Ok be safe." you said, hanging up quickly. Turning your attention back to Levi, who had an arm thrown over the back of the couch, legs spread wide.

"What was that about?" he asked, leaning forward to take a sip of his tea, grimacing when he realized too late that the liquid had grown cold. You smiled at him, moving to take a sip of your wine as well.

"I told Eren he and his buddies could crash here tonight." you sighed, turning to go unlock the front door so they could let themselves in.

"Why would you go and do that?" Levi's callous tone made your stomach twist into knots.

"I dunno, cause I'm nice like that I guess." you shrugged, dropping back down onto the couch and smiling coyly at him. Slowly your smile fell from your lips and you turned to face away from him.

"You've always been a pushover." Levi teased, a weak attempt at bringing your smile back. You huffed in amusement. But now that you'd had some time to think, you remembered Jean. You remembered him asking you to be his girlfriend. All though you hadn't given him a definite answer, you still felt the guilt creeping into your heart.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it was a mistake." you apologized, eyes averted. Levi scoffed, his hand landing heavily on the back of your head, gently he turned you to face him.

"I'm not." his voice was husky, grey eyes still clouded with lust. You shook your head and licked your lips.

"You should be. What about Petra?" you whimpered, his hand tightening its grip on the back of your head.

"I don't owe her anything, she's probably sleeping with Oluo right now." his words were dripping with venom, and you didn't miss the small glint of hurt in those grey irises. You flinched for Petra's sake, she wasn't a bad person, you knew that.

"But, it's not right Levi." you urged, your hand gripping his wrist and gently pulling it from behind your head. His eyebrows pinched together, rejection wasn't something that he was familiar with.

"I like you but, this is just bad timing." you chuckled darkly, taking his hand in your own you grazed your thumb over his knuckles.

"That's a load of shit." Levi hissed, turning his face away, his bangs hiding his gunmetal eyes.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you'll be graduating soon and I wouldn't want to slow you down or anything..." you mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze. Levi turned back to face you, a scowl glued to his face.

"I don't give a damn about any of that shit." he hissed, squeezing your hand back, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"But I do, I want you to get out of this shitty town and I want you to live." you didn't look sad, your eyes seemed to sparkle with admiration.

"God you sound like your brother." he quipped, turning away from your starry-eyed gaze.

"Maybe, but it's really for the best Levi." you sighed, sliding your hand out from under his with reluctance.

"So...what you're saying is that if I go to school and become successful then you'll let me tap that?" he smirked at you, that same sad glint in his eye, despite his teasing tone.

"Basically." you giggled at his words and smiled broadly at him. He scoffed, certain that this was one of those traits that you shared with your brother.

"Fine, I'd better get going before those brats show up." He sighed, standing up slowly, his hand slipping from your loose grasp.

"Ok, I'll see you around?" You beamed up at him, from your seat on the couch, and he nodded, grabbing his cup to place in the sink. You rose with him, sad to see him go, but you knew that it was for the best.

"Sure." Levi mumbled, gently setting his cup in the sink and turning to the foyer to pull his shoes on while you leaned against the counter. The house was still dark, making it hard to see Levi's face as he tugged on his vans and Erwin's jean jacket that was hanging on the hooks nearby.

"Drive safe." you called after him as he left, he didn't even glance back. But that was just Levi for you, so you stalked to the door and locked it. Leaning against the cool surface and sliding down to crouch on the floor, resting on your haunches. The sound of Levi's car starting filled the silence, and his head lights lit up the dark house for a moment as he pulled out of the drive way. If you listened closely you could hear his music, a small smile graced your lips, before the mental images of you and Levi filled your head.

God what were you thinking? Such an idiot, you should have never kissed him, now he wouldn't want to be your friend, probably thought you were a prude. You hit your head softly against the door once, then harder a second time, you had to be better, you couldn't be this impulsive in the future. With a heavy sigh you heaved yourself back onto your feet to pull out extra blankets for your guests. About ten minutes later the trio arrived, clearly a bit tipsy, Armin's cheeks were flushed and his eyes glazed over, clearly tired. Eren was propped up between Armin and Mikasa, his cheeks were also flushed and his eyes were unfocused. Mikasa was fine as always. You grabbed water bottles for them and helped them downstairs, where you had set up their pillows and blankets on the couch. Mikasa let out a tiny sigh of relief when she lied Eren down, rolling him onto his side. You helped Armin down, he was babbling incoherently, his hands holding tightly to your forearms.

"You're so pretty (Y/n), thank you so much for...for" His face screwed up and you whipped your head around, looking for something that he could throw up into. Your eyes settled on an old bowl that still had some popcorn kernels at the bottom. You leaned over and scooped up the bowl and held it under his chin, running your hand through his blond locks to pull the strands framing his face back. He leaned forward and heaved, only a small amount coming out. Mikasa clicked her tongue, holding the bottle of water up to Eren's lips.

"I'm sorry." she apologized as she opened Armin's bottle, once you were sure he was done you reached around to the side table for a tissue to wipe his face. You took the bottle from Mikasa and held it to his lips, he took it gratefully and took long swigs. You took the bowl and quickly dumped the contents into the toilet and flushed, you rinsed the bowl and brought it back out incase either of them needed it again. Mikasa was slouched against the couch, the boys having already fallen asleep, you set the bowl down an even amount between the two of them.

"You can sleep up stairs with me if you want." you offered, slowly standing and holding a hand out to help her up. She glanced at Eren and pursed her lips in thought.

"Fine." She relented, taking your hand she spared one last glance at the boys as you switched off the lights and went up stairs. You could feel her eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs, and at first you weren't sure why, but then you remembered that you were wearing boxers. You tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt, a blush dusting your cheeks. Once you reached the main level of the house you walked around and switched off the kitchen lights and the lamps that were on in the living room.

Mikasa waited patiently at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the rail, and a foot on the first step. Finally the room fell into darkness as you flicked off the last lamp and you groped your way to Mikasa. She huffed in amusement when your hands met her shoulder, she pulled you around the corner and up onto the stairs. You both climbed up the stairs, you giggling as she held on to you, her hand warm on your arm. You stumbled into your room and you fell onto your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. She fell next to you, the moon illuminating the second floor bedroom through the slit in your curtains.

"So you going to tell me whose underwear you're wearing?" She asked, a playful glint in her eyes. You huffed and shoved her shoulder as you rolled over to face her.

"They're Levi's." you admitted, relishing in the way her mouth opened in surprise.

"Gross why?" she asked, tugging the comforter up over the both of you.

"Well he showed up and I was only in a towel so I wasn't picky when I was digging through Erwin's laundry." You chuckled at the recent memory. She also let out an amused grunt, her steely eyes seemed to flash in the moonlight.

"Stupid shorty. I thought for sure he was going start a brawl at Mike's earlier." she scoffed, her distaste for Levi evident as she spoke.

"Why am I not surprised?" you rolled your eyes, knowing how explosive Eren could be when he was drunk and how easy Levi was to piss off.

"I wasn't surprised at all." Mikasa suddenly looked older, her eyes tired and her features pale in the small amount of moonlight in the room. You shifted, turning on your side to face her, she licked her lips and averted her eyes. You had always admired Mikasa's composure, she carried herself with such elegance and maturity. You only wished that she wouldn't try to shoulder the weight of the world alone, much like another Ackerman that you knew. She rolled over, her shoulders rigid, clearly she was done talking. With a sigh you tugged the comforter up over your shoulder and closed your eyes.

"Good night Mikasa."

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years ago

Text

Fire Meets Gasoline: It’s Dangerous to Fall in Love

Fire Meet…Chapter 1

It’s Dangerous to Fall In Love

Warnings: This will be dark. The main character is female, a librarian, but blank canvas — but she is being stalked and has been trying, very hard, to stay out of an abusive relationship. So triggers may be abusive relationships (Ezra is a jewel and won’t hurt her) and stalking. She is doing her best. I think you will like her. No smut this chapter, I curse like some people breathe so let’s just assume there’s cursing. Passing food mention.

This is mostly just set up. Next part, we start to get to the good stuff. I think.

He arrived in town in a beat up truck, like some kind of Wild West fairy tale. He had a guitar that he liked to tell people he won in a poker match — but really, he got it at a garage sale. It was one of the few things he kept in the cab, the rest, rain, snow or shine stayed in the back. None of it was worth much, and he figured, if someone wants to steal his worn out clothes, they can go right ahead.

His name was Ezra, and he had both his arms (despite a very, very vivid dream about his step sister cutting it off the other night) a somewhat useless English Doctorate Degree (he’d been sleeping with the Dean’s wife, he found out and told the Council of Trustees and the President of the University that Ezra was having an inappropriate affaire with his seventeen year old daughter, who, righteously displeased at the whole of the situation went along with the lie— the moral of the story, never fuck around until yhou have tenure), some enemies, some larcenous skills, and the deed to a disreputable looking bowling alley.

Oh, Lord above, was it disreputable looking. The parking lot was more weeds than asphalt. The neon sign — The Bowling Green — flickered weirdly and the bowling pin at the end was half hanging off the otherwise featureless brick wall. “Oh, Uncle, you meant well but I do fear you have done me wrong.”

There was another car in the parking lot, fairly new. He parked next to it, close to the door, neither of them worrying over sticking to the non existent parking lines. He unlocked the peeling green painted door and went down the hall, past the office, past restrooms, to the only part of the place that still looked taken care of — the bowling lanes themselves.

There you were. His uncle had told him about you — a sweet woman, a little lonely, but nice. A librarian at the local middle and high schools. You came in every week day at 3:30 on the dot, checked around the place for problems, then spent a solid hour bowling.

Ezra leaned against the door jamb, taking you in. Something tugged at him, his heart felt like it was waking up, stretching its arms and looking around for something to love, and there. There you were. Beautiful, relaxed in your element, still in your work clothes, your bowling shoes looking well loved but old enough to predate the building.

He turned around and walked back down the hall, opened the green door again, slammed it loudly, then walked back down to the alleys, whistling, jiggling his keys.

You were less relaxed now, as he came into view. Bowling ball held defensively. Back straight, eyes wary.

“Hey!” He calls your name. “I”m Ezra. Uncle Mike told me about you…hopefully he returned the favor, without much elaboration upon my past trespasses.”

Slowly, the stiffness eases out, and you lower the ball, smiling a little. The kind of smile that makes a heart wont to jump right out of its chest, run over, tug on a lady’s pant cuff to see if she’ll pick it up and keep it.

“All he ever said was that you were a good boy…and that you talk an awful lot.”

“I didn’t work myself through college to use one word when seven will do.” He grinned back, and his smile grew when you giggled.

“I like that. So. Do you mind if I keep bowling? I mean…like…”. Uncertainty again. “I really do like coming in every day, so if I need to pay now, or if it’s not convenient…”

“I wouldn’t dream of changing a thing. I’m not sure if I am going to open this place up again or not…but it’ll be nice to see the lanes being used.”

“Thank you.” You said, the sheer relief in your tone striking him odd, but he put it aside.

“Want to play a couple frames before you have to go?”

“Yes!” You walk over to the screen and clear the previous game, then typed in his name. “There are some shoes in a plastic box behind the counter…I moved them when I realized that the mice were enjoying chewing on them.”

“I do hate mice. Bold as brass, they are…”. He found the box and rooted through. “I have not played…oh, not since I left to get my master’s degree.”

“What did you get your degree in?”

He dropped a pair on the floor, slipped off his well worn in Toms, and shoved his feel into the stiff bowling shoes. “Poetry. Almost got into trouble because I didn’t want to specialize…I love it all. Byron, Neruda, Stephen Crane…the Bard himself. Why should I deny myself any pleasure?”

“You sound like me,” You say, as you wait for him to choose his ball. “I hoard books like dragons hoard gold.”

Ezra thinks of the well duct taped plastic bins of books in the back of his truck. A sliver of the library he’d had once. “Nothing like being surrounded by books.”

“It’s my retirement plan. I keep buying books and hoping I’ll live long enough to read them…anyway…you first. I have to get home before dark, so we can’t play too long.”

“Drat. And I was hoping to convince you to let me buy you dinner, in thanks for being so kind.” He releases the ball, the feel slowly coming back to him, winces when it goes right for the gutter.

You blush a little. Look tempted. “Some other time, maybe.”

Another gutter, and he gives up the floor to you with a bow. “Well, the way I’m playing, this is going to be a short game.”

“You’re just rusty.” You let the ball go, with just a little curve. Just when he thinks it’s heading for the gutter it curves right and takes out the middle pins.

“Do you like being a school librarian?”

You stop as you reach for your newly returned ball, your side eye and sudden stiffness communicating, loudly, that she was well aware she has not told you where she worked.

“My Uncle told me. He used to speak often of you — the old goat was quite fond of you.”

“And I him,” you take your steps, release your ball, and take out the rest of the pins. “What else did he tell you?”

Little bird, what happened to make you so suspicious? “That you like bowling because it gives you an outlet after a hard day at work. That you like the job and the kids but it’s hard. Lots of stress.”

You nod, as if that makes sense. As if you are willing yourself to think it is OK. The rest of the frames go better. Ezra is more careful, filling the silence with junk about himself, about his Uncle, and you relax, little by little. You even step a little closer, both of you staring up at the board at the winning score.

“Not bad, you could probably go on the circuit, make money.”

You laugh. “Go pro? Not happening. You are a flatterer.”

“Why flatter when the truth is too good to use?”

You sneak a look at your watch, nod, and start to put things away.

“I’ve got it,”. Ezra says. “Maybe I’ll play a few more frames, get better in case you ever grant me the honor of allowing me to play you again.”

Another flash of one of those lovely smiles. “Later, Ezra.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He calls to your retreating back.

“Nope. Never on a Saturday or Sunday. But Monday?” You turn and point. “Monday, I’ll give you that rematch. So you have all weekend to get better.”

“Since I am currently utterly abysmal, it will not be hard.”

You laugh and wave and go out the door. The light is the golden-hour gliding of the sun just going down, you’d have time to get home before dark.

He sighed, and wondered why it was that important. The town was fairly safe, as far as he knew.

He switched the machines off, and started grabbing his things out of the truck while it was still light. Time to get his things indoors, and then investigate the horror that was surely to be the upstairs apartment.

***

You made home before nightfall.

Sometimes, you thought, a smart woman might just move out. Move away from the lonely farm house at the end of a lonely lane. A place where no one would hear you scream, if someone attacked you. No neighbors to run to, to beg for help.

You sat there, as the shadows lengthened and the golden sun went down behind the trees, as if it did not want to see what happened next. You listened as the engine went tick, tick, tick, waiting, breath held.

Then you nodded, once, grabbed your stuff and ran up the steps to the porch.

The door was locked, when you tried it. Good. You unlocked it, dropped your stuff in the chair by the door, dead bolted it, then started the circuit.

How did they do it, you wonder. How did you mother, your grandmother, your aunt all live here, in this old pile that creaked and grumbled, with its millions of niches and shadows and closets that were always left open so you could see inside, see that no one was there. The cellar with the bar across the door. The steep stairs with the sharp turn that announced that you were coming to anyone who might care to hear?

You check the bedrooms, the bathroom, then go down the other set of stairs, check that the bar is on the kitchen door, then go and lay the thick beam of wood in the hangers on either side of the front door. Never bar the door until the house was clear. Now you could use the bathroom, take your stuff to the office. Turn on the TV so the white noise would cover the incidental creaks and groans and animal scrapings on this old solitary house. The sounds that meant nothing but would drive you crazy.

You’re contemplating dinner when the phone rings. You were half expecting it, but you still jump out of your skin. It’s the old landline, which you have to keep to have internet — and the ring is loud and harsh.

“Hello?”

“You’re home. Good. I thought you were running a little late today.”

“Principle Micheals.”

“Sweetheart. Is that anyway to address me? It’s after hours…you know what I want you to call me.” His voice is affable, but there’s this little hidden bite. You remember his hand around your throat, pressed right against this wall, and you shake.

“I know what you want.” You try to strip all emotion from your words. “But you know the school board…”

“Funny thing about that. I found out exactly who put forward that motion, that a principal can’t date his subordinate.” The last word is stressed, made insulting. “Your predecessor — Mrs. Whitcomb. Aren’t you shocked that someone you thought was your friend would deny you the happiness of being with your one true love?”

You wanted to argue the one true love bit, but it would not…no. That was never good, or helpful. Instead, you said into the waiting silence, “I am sure she means well.”

You did not tell the truth, that you went to her, begged for her help, and this was the best the two of you could come up with.

“Can you leave?” Mrs Witcomb asked. She already knew the answer…she was the librarian when you were a student. Your friend, book supplier, hero…she knew you could not leave the house.

“…In any case, she won’t be on the board much longer. Maybe we can ge them to revisit that stupid rule, yeah?”

You are paralyzed. What to say? What to say?

“It’s rude not to answer, sweetheart.”

“I think. I think. She’s right, that a man in your position of power should not be dating someone under him. If it went…bad, if things went wrong it could be very miserable.”

“You think things would go bad, honey?” His words, again, were velvet wrapped around a razor blade. If you grabbed them, the razor would slice right through and cut you open.

You hear the crunch of gravel. “Someone’s outside.”

“Oh, that’s just my little brother, Al. Go ahead and wave to him, so he knows you’re alright.”

“I have to hang up, ok? The cord can’t reach.”

“I know that.” A smack of impatience.

You hang up without a word. You know you will probably pay for that later.

You walk up to the window by the front door. A black and white unit is parked next to your car. You wave, then mime that you’re on the phone. The young man…plain, bland, doughy faced…nods once, and backs out.

Things are going to get so much worse, if that kid gets elected sheriff. But the Sheriff — another Whitcomb, but this one was the ex-librarian’s cousin — was popular, and you think, you hope, you have another couple of years.

You should go. Leave. Burn the place down and never look back. But there are bills — so many bills — and the fact you own your home is the only source of security you have.

“Eat.” You say to the echoing house, too large and too small at the same time. “You have to eat.”

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys @fan-of-encouragement @thegreenkid

#fire meet gasoline #pedro pascal #ezra x reader #ezra au #TW:domestic abuse

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organic-guacamole · 3 years ago

Text

episode 209 spoilers below

I'm so late today but here it is

I love EJ, he's finally learning to be happy. I'm so proud.

Ms Jenn = every boomer during zoom calls, like jeez yes we can hear you stop shouting at me.

LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKE ABOUT QUARANTINE "these dark times" "you mean spring break?"

ah yes, remember when we thought covid was just gonna give us a longer spring break? good times

SEBLOS

damn the passive aggressiveness from Carlos and the absolutely over it tone from seb✋

CASWELL COUSINS!!!!! THEY'RE THE BEST!!!!

we needed more if this kind of goofiness for the first part of season 2 that only such an iconic duo can provide.

old old movies-

is it even that old, or is Nini being a gen alpha rn-

i choose to imagine EJ being scared of the movie and hiding in Ashlyn's shoulder while she keeps a straight face and then EJ pretending to be tough afterwards

aww redlyn are soulmates.... yknow, if gingers had souls

(please ignore me)

y'all saw how EJ's face *lit up* when Gina logged on? how dare you tell me he doesn't like her

ofc she's no damsel in distress, she's Gina porter, she's amazing.

so do we think she'd be the type to just glare at suspicious people? or bark at them

do they not know that Rini broke up? or is Ms Jenn just wanting Nini to suffer through her heartbreak to make her a better actress....

speaking of, why is Nini in the call? she's not in the show anymore. Unless she is, even after the rose and the song got cut, which would be so unfair to all those that auditioned properly before she even came back but whatever, she's the main character I get it 🙄

big red is a hero honestly, Nini better thank him for changing the subject like that

I can't-

i won't work you over the break-

this woman would 100% work her kids 24/7 if it was legal and idk how to feel about it.

YES GINA USE THAT CHARM

QUEEN

FRENCH QUEEN

SHE LEARNT FROM THE BEST (antoine obvi)

smh the airport lady, eavesdropping on Gina's call.

The way she was so happy to answer EJ's call, "eej"

I love them your honour.

EJ WITH PAINTED NAILS YES PLEASE

great now we need to see Gina, Ashlyn and EJ having a complete spa day and EJ getting really into it and Gina and Ashlyn take pictures of him when he's laying down in a robe with a mask and cucumbers on his eyes.

finally we get to see Gina's side of portwell

the way she considered it as flirting, this is the sign she asked for in episode 6 come onnnnn

no is Asher/jack really doing tiktok dances in an airport-

Ricky is me. I am burrito.

oh Lynne, sweetie, I'm sorry but the blonde hair is not it

is that even the same lady or-

THE BEAN

THE CHICAGO BEAN

THE BIG OLD METAL BEAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY 😭

jetlag is my go to excuse for anything... I haven't travelled in 2 years.

"welcome to the Lynne and Mike gossip show. where we talk about our depressed son that we both neglect in certain ways! And now a word from our sponsor, Nord VPN..."

SO MANY CANDLES

WHAT DEMON IS LYNNE TRYING TO SUMMON IN HIS ROOM-

is Nina becoming social media obsessed EJ from season 1? AND SHE LIED ABOUT HAVING SONGS TOO PLEASE WHY ARW THEY RECYCLING THE SAME PLOT-

Gina smiling at the picture of her family on Instagram makes me so happy, idek why.

EJ's nails are so pretty, we needed to see it more (unless he had it on for the rest of the episode and I just.... didn't notice🧍🏽‍♀️)

oh not the tiktok kid✋

yes ma'am end this strange mans whole tiktok career

sir take a hint and leave

GINA NO DONT SAY YOUR LAST NAME HE COULD BE A HUMAN TRAFFICKER

Ricky, walking in style✨

weird kid, ok then Lynne, can't you see he's this close to the edge?

not all your fault baby Ricky, Nini sucks a bit more

RICKY YOU DIDN'T COME DOWN HARD ON THE SONG-

YOU ASKED WHAT IT WAS ABOUT AND SHE SHUT YOU DOWN-

PLEASE DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

ok but the deleting comment thing was very bad

still don't know if I like Jack honestly

hmmm so Nini's calling herself Nini instead of Nina in her little egg seat, while trying to write a song without inspiration.... Nini, honey, Ricky was your muse, he inspired you to write all those songs, even if it wasn't good for the relationship.

that doesn't mean you gotta get back with him, or that you can't write a song that not about him butttt it'll take some time

the rainbow sticker in her box and her rainbow shirt-

anyways wbk she's not totally straight

Jack are you a criminal?

quick, Gina, check his ankle for a tracker

THE YES AND PRACTICE STRIKES AGAIN

the way Gina wasn't into it in episode 6 but she's used the technique twice now

stole her grandma's Pomeranian-

Jack where the hell did you pull that out from-

the fake crying killed me, that looks like so much fun though

anyone wanna raid a first class lounge with me?

wait so is jack not gonna go in with her?

wouldn't he go in too? help look for the credit card? SO CONFUSED

the first class lounge guy was so into the drama though, watch his face when they start arguing 😭

sorry to break this to you Kourtney, but you haven't even blocked the second act yet soooo...

take that as you will

I love how all of them are totally dissing the dance off

that's the most realistic part of this show tbh

shouldn't Nini have asked how she knew....since the start? why is the fact that her best friend has knowledge of a North high secret now dawning on her...

Howie is sweet honestly, at least he's trying to help. but I stand with Kourtney, don't take him back just because he sang an amazing song, and is giving you a heads up on what's gonna happen...

KOURTNEY IS ME TRYING TO LEAVE AN ONLINE CLASS

I hate school

ooo Nini's writing a song about bad internet connection 🤩🤩🤩

I never lie, except when I do-

son that is the creepiest thing you could say to a stranger that you've been "helping"

2 truths and a lie👀

he's an Ariana fan 100%

called it.

OLDER BROTHER-

WHAT-

free spirit? damn so brother porter was in that horse movie

so has she been kissed or not?????????

I feel like she's moved more than 15 times though so possibly

but then if she's moved so much, and before east high she never opened up to anyone, she's never been kissed then?? damn

same though Gina so let's be besties please

heartbreak president is a great song title idea, give Nini a call rn

but wait

is the no strings attached feeling thing about her telling Ricky she liked him? she thought she was moving away so she thought it'd be no strings attached???

guys I think I figured it out insert the "I've connected two dots" meme

THE DUKE SWEATSHIRT

IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S

OMG I LOVE I LOVE

NOT THAT I KNOW OF???

ma'am did you just kill me

yes you did

Lynne and Ricky have such a weird relationship

YES IT DID SUCK

TODD SUCKS

LYNNE SUCKS

yeah I get that you wanted Ricky to like Todd BUT THAT WASN'T THE TIME

right so we already know that Ricky was so desperate to keep Nini cuz he didn't want to be like his parents, and now Lynne's talking about this-

Richard needs a long hug

yes Lynne, it is your fault. thank you for finally admitting it.

YES DYE YOUR HAIR

BLOND HIGHLIGHTS RICKY WILL RISE AGAIN

"sometimes the best, last thing you can do for someone you love, is let them go."

gotta admit I teared up at that point

not me thinking big red was calling ms Jenn cupcake for a hot second-

Carlos please omg, you're at the "beach" and they're leaving for the pool?

also, why not just do the call from the hotel room please omg

"don't ask me"

"Carlos"

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

big red wants the tea

O M G

SEB IS JEALOUS

JEALOUS SEBBY IS MY FAVOURITE THING IDC

I'm surprised ms Jenn knew how to give Nini permission to screenshare tbh

So lily's been stalking the East high kids and spending time editing this video while she's supposedly in an immersion trip.... right

EJ and Ashlyn's picture is so chaotic, what even is happening there

"slacking off" bestie its spring break, obviously they're confident enough that they'll get it done in time so why not focus on your own musical.

jealous seb = sassy seb

please what if those guys Carlos is posing with are his cousins or something and that's why he's so confused about Seb

6 YEAR OLD EJ I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Nini saying she's obsessed with her ex, that's not weird at all 👍

I can just tell Matt had a blast harassing Julia with those puppets.

Jack please dont be like that, "yet"

chances are you'll never see eachother again 🥰

(honestly sometimes I really miss those friends I made on trips and stuff when we'd spend the day or week together, only to never see them again....those were the good days though)

Ashlyn and Nini should write more songs..... something better than this one at least

Nini: "im good"

cue the Tia Mowry (please I can't spell) crying gif

oh I forgot Ricky was in the show for a hot second

1. where did Gina get to film this without people being around

2. did she just... randomly change her clothes???

ok but the transition between Carlos and EJ

*chefs kiss*

now everyone shut up, EJ's singing

oh i think I'm pregnant

HIS MUSCLES

YES KOURTNEY

I love how big red and Kourtney went from being "the best friends™" to the couple in season 1, to kinda close themselves and having their own plots

sebby makes me so happy

props to biggies editing skills honestly

PORTWELL BEING SIDE TO SIDE I CANT

AND SEBLOS OMG

big red lives for the drama

"wow" so true Ricky

no he is not cute, stop it

"holding" ok that's kinda cute

yeah EJ's a lucky guy😌

jokes aside, it's not that hard to exchange numbers-

keep in touch if you want

ok I really like Jack now

if he comes back in season 3, maybe have him be LGBTQ+ ?

like the only out characters they have rn are Seb and Carlos and they're like the sterotypes, yk?

I'd love to see jack kinda break the mold

Ricky's breaking my heart

that song just hurts

the only thing

now I don't hate Lynne????????

HOW DARE THEY WRITE IN A PROPER REDEMPTION ARC FOR HER

UGH IM SUPPOSED TO HATE HER FOREVER

I mean I don't live her now but she's good

but honestly

"mom can I show you something"

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

THE PICTURE AND EVERYTHING OMG

I'm sobbing please help

Gina saying she's just waiting for the right guy and then EJ coming to the airport to pick her up late at night without her asking, offering to bring her back in the morning so she won't have to Uber, bringing her a granola bar (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE FORGOT TO PACK) and without expecting anything in return???

ms ma'am you've got a keeper right there

her smile at the end was so heartwarming I really can't.

this episode was great.

it felt really short but I liked it, great character development for Ricky, Lynne and Gina.

Cant wait for next episode to see more of EJ being the ideal boyfriend /hj

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts season 2 #hsmtmts spoilers #ej caswell #ricky bowen #gina porter #seblos #nini salazar roberts #jack hsmtmts #carlos rodriguez #seb mathew smith #kourtney greene #big red #ashlyn caswell #caswell cousins #portwell will be the death of me #guac's episode text blocks :)

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i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie · 3 years ago

Text

Call Me Mother, Chapter One

I languidly drained the last breath from my cigarette, the drag filling my lungs. My garter straps hung down lazily, tickling my thighs, as they awaited their purpose. Music thumped rapidly, and whoops of delight resounded through the hall. The dressing room door swung open; a small, but curvaceous woman behind it.

Her eyebrows were tweezed to perfection, eyes deeply shadowed, eyelashes false and curled into large feathery swoops; her mouth was like a plump strawberry. I’d always harbored a mild curiosity about how it tasted.

“Mary, you’re up in 10 minutes. I want you at the curtain in five," Cristella said, her hispanic accent thick.

“Is that a new corset?” I asked. Cristella turned me around, and yanked the laces of my corset together. Thank god I haven’t needed to breathe for the last 150 years, I thought. I floated a small influence her way. Gentler, please. She complied, unwittingly. They always do.

I don’t normally use my influence on people I like, but I’m far too hungry to risk her pinching me with this corset. I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost control. She was far too kind to die a death that violent.

“It is. This papí chulo I’ve been seeing said he wanted me to wear it for him. Maybe he’ll tip better," she said, carefully pulling the slack out of the lower half of my corset. I placed my hands over my belly, holding everything in place.

“What’s the crowd looking like?” I tucked the ties away. She jutted a hip out, and began counting off on her impeccably manicured fingers.

“The usual crowd. Old Man Carraway, that one divorcee who drinks like a fish. College kids. Oh, there’s also these dudes in silver masks. Low-key kind of demonic. And some weird guy in like, face paint? He’s painted up like a calavera. I figured they came from that concert that was in town. You know, the one that church was protesting? Say they like worship Satan or something?”

“Sounds about right." I bent down to attach my straps to the garters of my stockings.

“They’re probably here for a private room, so I figured I’d put you on now. You’re good at handling the weirdos." Cristella giggled, watching me struggle to get the backs of my stockings attached. She and I broke into fits of giggles, as she chased me in circles, trying to help me attach my stockings.

“Let me get that. Hurry up and get on stage!” she said, giving me a playful smack on the ass. I pranced out of the room, trying to avoid her grasping mitts.

“Hey! No bruising the merchandise!” I giggled, linking arms with her as we strutted backstage, perfectly in step with one another. She grabbed the microphone from Mike the Mic Guy, gave me a wink, and stepped through the curtain.

“Aaaaand we’re back! Now, this next lady I’ve got lined up for you is quite a treat. She’s as pale as cream, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, and will definitely step on you. Well, she might if you tip well. For legal reasons, we can’t call her “Elvira,” so I guess we’ll settle for… MOTHER! MARY!” That was my cue. I sauntered through the curtain, my hips moving like a figure eight. I moved across the stage, “Lullaby” by the Cure playing. I always chose various genres of rock for my acts. Not that I have anything against the other girls’ music choices… but there’s only so much female rap you can play in one night. As I began to dance, I noticed the group that Cristella had mentioned earlier. They were sitting front and center, near the edge of the stage.

Seven of the masked figures sat around the Painted Man, as I had labeled him. Two of the masked figures seemed effeminate, and the other five seemed more masculine. They all ranged in different shapes and sizes. Maybe the masks are a fetish thing? Cristella did say that they came from a concert… Something about them seemed off. I did a swing around the pole, dropping into a fireman, trying to catch a scent. It was a whirlwind of scents, none of them too out of the ordinary. Except the beefy one. He smelled like midnight. I don’t know how to explain it. What really caught my interest though was the Painted Man. Specifically, his eyes. One of them was grey, the iris almost black. The other eye had a pale, white iris. It suited him, and it was beautiful, in an eerie way. Those eyes looked at me, as I danced around the stage, and they knew me. If I had a working heart still, it would be racing.

As Robert Smith crooned, I descended the stairs of the stage as sensually as one could in Pleaser heels, making my way to the Painted Man. If I wanted to know what these people were, I’d have to get a closer look. The Painted Man patted one of his legs with a gloved hand, and cocked his head to the side. I took the invitation, but not before I teased him. I crouched between his legs, running my hands up his thighs. As I rose, I walked my hands up his thighs, bringing my face closer to his. His breath graced my skin, smelling faintly of licorice. As he leaned in, for what I could only assume was a kiss, I rose again, strutting over to one of the masked beings. It was the smaller of the male ones. I sat in his lap, letting him run his hands over me as I began to grind on his lap. His growing erection told me I was going to have a busy night.

“Your boss is a little too eager," I whispered, getting a good whiff of him. He smelled faintly of smoke. I put my hands on his chest, trying to keep my balance. No heartbeat.

“What makes you think he’s my boss?” The being asked petulantly. He grabbed onto my waist, as he began to grind with me. I moved his hand to the small of my back, and leaned back in a dip. The being ran his other hand over my belly, in between my breasts, and up to my throat, bringing me back up to his masked face.

“You’re the one wearing a uniform." I darted my tongue out to lick my lips. What is he? My mind raced as I tried to run through every supernatural creature I’d ever known. But then I heard it. I barely even understood it. All I picked up was price and one night. It was Ghoulish. The taller female ghoul was asking about what I can only assume was my hourly rate. Most strip clubs in this part of Vegas were just fronts for brothels. However, it’s hard to sell the idea of prostitution to Mid-Western vanilla tourists. So most of my income was made from stripping. I usually had one or two clients I went to bed with a night. It wasn’t very stable, but then again, I had less expenses than the average stripper, considering my “condition."

“Tell your friend my basic hourly rate is $500. My Ghoulish isn’t any good." I stood up, and made my way to the female ghoul’s lap.

“How do you know Ghoulish?” she asked, a bit of surprise in her tone. I bent over in front of her, shaking my ass for her. She put a couple of bills in the waistband of my panties, punching my previous ghoul in the arm. He forked over some cash as well.

“I’m not human. I’ll leave it at that," I said, stuffing the cash into the top of my corset. Dear lord… All hundreds… The female ghoul rubbed my thighs, turning me back around slowly, so as to admire my ass.

“Could we get a room after your number? I think a private dance is in order," she said, in broken Ghoulish. I nodded, and as if on cue, the lights and music began to fade out. As I began to walk back up the stairs to the stage past the Painted Man, his hand darted forward to smack my ass. God, it really is not the night for this shit. My more animalistic nature took over, and before I could stop it, a hiss left my lips. As if of their own accord, my fangs sprung painfully through my gums. I heard a snap, and looked over to see the largest ghoul stand up. He shook his head. Thank god the lights were low. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, and made my way across the stage.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Mike the Mic Guy asked, handing a mic to Cristella. I still had my hand over my mouth. Cristella looked worried.

“Are you okay Mary? I can get you some tea if you’re keyed up." I shook my head.

“Please get a room ready. The Freak Parade wants a private dance," I said as I walked away, silently cursing myself. Once back in the dressing room, I threw open the mini-fridge I normally kept padlocked. I looked to the last bottle I had left in my stash. Hopefully it hasn’t clotted, I thought, throwing the bottle back. This wouldn’t end my thirst, but it would certainly quell the burning in my throat. You nearly lost it. You need to bag one of these stupid fucks tonight, or else. I hadn’t had a bad case of blood lust in decades, but the combination of winter holidays, my strict schedule, and FOSTA-SESTA had really cut off my food supply.

The door opened, and Cristella came in with a cup of tea. She looked at the flask in her hand and cocked a brow.

“And you didn’t offer to share. What is that? Cuervo? Henny?” she said, reaching for the flask. I shook my head, and put it back in the fridge, closing the padlock.

“It’s cough syrup. I keep it under lock and key because of that bitch Ronnie. She’s not fooling anybody. You ever see how much her hands shake? Too much caffeine? Yeah, right. We all know what the DTs look like." I began changing into a burgundy velvet bra and panty set, pairing it with some burgundy gloves and stockings. Finally, I found a pair of sparkly Loboutins Lydia had left me. My mind rolled back through the streets of Paris to 1991, when Louboutin opened its first salon. Lydia smiled, as I kissed her shin, helping her into the heel. She looked down at me, her eyes full of love, and the corner of her mouth hiding a kiss just for me.

“Yeah, she is pretty suspish. What happened with those weirdos out there?” Cristella interrupted my memory. I shook my head. Are you just imagining your heartache?

“Oh the big guy was just mad because I didn’t get around to him. That’s why I wanted you to get the room. Plus, I might be able to secure a nice check from these guys. They all seemed absolutely randy," I said. Cristella shook her head, giggling. The gloss in my hand made a popping noise, as I pulled the wand from the bottle. It was my favorite flavor, watermelon.

“I can ask one of the boys to sit in, to keep them from getting too handsy," Cristella said. I shook my head. It would only keep me from getting too handsy, I thought to myself. Bless her heart. I could never make a kill here. I loved the crew here far too much. Plus, I didn’t have a coven. No one to protect me when I fucked up. They kicked me out long ago. It’s the main reason I ended up in Vegas, avoiding the sun when I could, doing my best to keep a legal and convenient profession. Where else could get a job with only night shifts, and a never-ending supply of useless assholes no one cared about?

“I’ll be okay Crissy. Even if they do try something, we have a panic button in there. Don’t worry." I gave her a slimy, glossy kiss on the cheek, earning a shriek from her strawberry mouth. She batted at me, narrowly missing me as I bounded out of the room.

As I approached the bigger of our three private rooms, I noticed two of the larger male ghouls standing outside the door. All of the ghouls dressed similarly, including the female ghouls. But I now noticed the alchemical symbols dangling from their belt chains. The shorter one had a quintessence symbol, the other larger one, an earth symbol. The earth one opened the door, and the quintessence one escorted me in.

“Thank you, Aether. Back to the door with you. Come, have a seat. Dewdrop says there is more to you than meets the eye. Let me pour you a glass of wine, cara," a thick, Italian accent beckoned to me. I walked to the ottoman in the middle of the room, where I usually found myself during private dances.

“I don’t drink during work hours, love. Now, what should I call you?” I looked into the mismatched eyes of the Painted Man.

“You can call me Papa. I’m Papa Emeritus, the fourth. My close friends call me Copia, but I suppose we are not quite there yet, sí?” he said, leaning forward to take my chin in his hand. I nodded.

“While I would love to marvel at your undoubtedly exquisite body, There is some business we should take care of first, piccolina. Do you like Type O Negative?” Cue the record scratching. The dreamy look I normally adopt when with my clients evaporated.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. Papa laughed.

“The band, cara. I was going to have you dance for me later. However, you must have a preference."

“I really don’t understand what you mean," I whispered. Papa laughed again, a big booming laugh.

“I know your secret cara. The ghouls told me. One of my predecessors, Papa Nihil, told me if I were to ever come across your kind, I should try to win your allegiance. Your kind have interesting abilities, specifically the power of influence." Of course that’s what he’s after.

“I don’t do that," I said, looking down to avoid his gaze. Papa tsked.

“I think you will. The ghouls say you smell lonely. Where is your famiglia?” He asked. I shook my head. Lydia’s pained screams echoed in my ears, our last moment together wrenching my heart out of my chest decades later.

“We split because of artistic differences," I said softly. Dewdrop and his companions giggled behind me.

“Forcing people to allow you to exsanguinate them for sport is not ‘artistic differences,’” Dewdrop hissed. The other ghouls laughed. Papa shook his head, and raised a hand to silence them.

“Now now, Dewdrop. It is hard to control one’s basic nature. Sí, tesoro? Tell me, how long has it been since your last drink?” He looked at me with concern. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what he saw. Weak, pathetic, useless… The words were like a disgusting mantra, swirling through my mind, angry and acidic.

“Weeks… It’s been weeks," I whispered. He tsked again. I heard the ghouls chatter amongst themselves. Their pity made me feel disgusting, like a child with sweaty, clammy hands, and odorous armpits.

“What if I told you I could offer you a job and a home? A home where you wouldn’t have to hide your nature. A home where you’d never go hungry again?” I looked up at him.

“What kind of job?” I asked. The ghouls laughed again. Papa shot them a glare.

“I would make use of your gifts occasionally. Nobody would get hurt. You would warm my bed whenever I asked. Maybe pick up a trade or two once back with the Clergy. And in turn, you would get protection, and all the blood you could ever need," he said. I finally mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. What do you have to lose? Besides, you’ve done infinitely worse things.

“You swear on your life, nobody will get hurt? Not a single person?” I asked. Papa nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll also require a salary as well," I said, extending my hand. Papa nodded, taking my hand in both of his.

“Anything you need, cara. But first, I think you need a drink. And then we will get the night I paid for," he said. He waved his hand towards the door, which the shorter female ghoul scurried to open. I noticed she sported a pocket chain with an air symbol.

“Bring in one of the more rosy siblings, Cumulus. I suspect our new friend will need the sustenance before we get too far into our plans for the night," Cumulus nodded, and shut the door behind her. Papa stood up, and began removing his suit jacket and gloves; rolling up his sleeves. I could see his blue veins pulsating, causing me to become aroused in a way I cannot quite explain. Involuntarily, my pussy throbbed, and my mouth watered.

“Now now, little one. Be patient. Your drink will be here soon enough. But for now, you will seal our little deal with a kiss, so to speak. On your knees," Papa ordered, gesturing to the floor. I slipped from the ottoman to the floor, crawling on all fours to him. His breath hitched as I slid my hands up his thighs. I didn’t break eye contact as I unbuckled his trousers, nor when I reached into his pants to pull out his sizeable cock.

The door opened, and I heard mumbles, as well as a struggle, and a thud. Of course, both my hands and mouth were preoccupied. I watched Papa intently as I sucked him off. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth slack, and his hands threaded into his hair, as he let out an ungodly moan. I kitten licked his frenulum, stroking his shaft, earning another moan. He bucked his hips into my throat. Sit still, I whispered in the back of my mind. Papa grabbed my hair, and pulled me off his cock.

“Never again, my little bat. Continue," he said, grabbing either side of my face as he began to fuck my throat rigourously. Someone behind me cleared their throat. I wasn’t able to look up, due to my current predicament.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Cirrus? What is it?” Papa let out a grunt, as his cock twitched in my mouth. I began to fellate him with my hands, wrenching more breathy sighs and groans from him. Within seconds, his warm seed was flooding my throat. I heard Dewdrop cheer, and then a slap, which I assumed was a high five. Papa rolled his eyes and smiled, as I dabbed away the bit of cum that had spilled over my bottom lip.

“Just in time. I needed something to wash down all that salt," I stood, and walked over to the person Cumulus and Cirrus stood in front of. It looked like a plumper woman. She was wearing what looked like a nun’s habit, her red ringlets spilling out from under her wimple.

“All for you cara. Come find me when you have finished your meal," Papa walked out, which left me with the ghouls and my prey. Dewdrop, and the other male ghoul, who sported a water symbol, helped the little nun onto the couch.

“You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass later, right? Nearly busted watching you and Copia earlier," Dewdrop said to me, softly enough for just me to hear. I giggled and nodded, batting him away after he began nibbling on my neck. He patted my ass, and began to pull the wimple from the nun’s head.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you and the rest of the ghouls get started? I’ll be done pretty quickly." Dewdrop nodded.

“C’mon, Rainy. Come play with my cock, while we watch Mary drink," The water ghoul nodded, grabbing Dewdrop’s hand. I turned my attention back to the nun. She began to stir. I pushed back her hair.

“This is going to hurt a little bit. But I will make this quick and painless. You deserve an easy death." The nun, barely awake, nodded, and turned her head. I cradled her head, and brought her throat to my mouth. With a final kiss to her soft, peachy flesh, I sank my teeth into her throat, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste.

It felt like drinking water after being stuck in a desert for a week. Her blood was sweet, clean, and thick, and it quenched my thirst quickly. Her body began to go limp in my arms, and her skin turned cold. It’s still not enough. I had to force myself to stop. Never drink the last drop. It might just be the last thing you do, my old mentor’s voice reminded me. I let the little nun drop back to the couch, and turned to face the ghouls. Cirrus sat with Cumulus, each with a hand in the other’s pants. Rain was bobbing his head up and down slowly, as Dewdrop played with his hair. Dewdrop looked up at me.

“Hot," he said. Cirrus nodded, and refocused her attention on Cumulus. Rain moaned, causing Dewdrop to hiss. I looked at them all, lust clouding my gaze.

“Make room. It’s my turn," I said. Dewdrop pulled my mouth to his, not fazed one bit by the blood coating my lips. Cirrus began to explore the space between my thighs with her long, gorgeous fingers. Rain held my hair, kissing and nipping at my neck. A girl really could get used to this...

Hours later, after all of the ghouls had had their turn, even the two from the door, I was back in the dressing room. I opened the envelope the earth ghoul, Mountain, had handed me on the way out. My eyes grew like saucers as I counted the money inside. I had only expected eight grand; two hours, eight clients, multiplied by $500. But as I counted, I realized I had 15 grand in my hands. The door opened, breaking my wealth-induced trance. It was Papa.

“If you would really like the job, come to this address in two weeks. Bring only what you must. Put everything else in storage," he said, handing me a card. I was confused.

“Why two weeks?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Because it’s polite, cara. Don’t forget your letter of resignation."

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

This is the first thing I've wrote in years! I hope you all enjoy it! A special thanks to @gasolineghuleh for all of their help!

#the band ghost #popia #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #cumulus ghoullete #cirrus ghoulette #duckydaydreams

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (17/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The most difficult part for Levi was picking the best place to read.

His first choice was the oval. It was almost summer though and Levi was familiar enough with the timeline to know training must have started already. The last thing he wanted to do was run into old teammates and be forced to maintain some inkling of a conversation.

His second choice was the library. And it wasn’t a bad choice. For a while, Levi had settled on one of the desks at the corner of the library, far from cramming students or students looking for a convenient place to cool off. Seats on the corner didn’t have wide windows though and the artificial light and the artificial chill of the room had turned out to be distracting.

It was only a few pages in did Levi realize, he would have preferred some green around him and the heat of late spring wasn’t so bad. He started to wonder why he had even considered reading indoors in the first place.

He had ended up wasting a good fifteen minutes only to fall back to where he had parted ways with Hange anyway.

In front of the science building.

Hange was inside one of the empty classrooms defending her final thesis. Levi sat on one of the benches to the corner of the building, closing his eyes tight as if that would have been enough to make out the voices inside the building.

Others came to watch and he was sure of that. He had seen Erwin on the way in. Nanaba and Mike had waved at him, asking if he’d be coming inside.

Levi decided against it long before and maybe Hange would have preferred it that way too. After all, she must have left him that particular manuscript before entering the building for a reason. He read the title page, neatly printed in a very much readable and professional font.

Although it had looked like one with the thick cover and the hard binding, as soon as Levi opened the first page, the small title on the upper left had him speechless yet very much convinced.

It wasn’t her thesis manuscript.

To: Captain Levi

Captain Levi. How long had it been since he heard that name and that title? Hange had called him that months before. He had remembered writing about him. The words on the page, Hange's voice, Kuchel’s voice and his own voice all mentioning those same two words in succession had happened, he was sure of that much.

The circumstances though with each memory had blurred into each other one by one and he liked to attribute it to his hermit tendencies the succeeding months after his injury.

Life had been different since then. He had gone back to face to face classes. He had been working on his thesis. Hange had been working on her own thesis too. And they were both just too busy trying to graduate on time given the chaos of the first semester.

He stared at the title page for a few more seconds pondering that chaos, possibly trying to reach for something behind that haze to no avail. The only thing he was able to grasp then had been a bout of nostalgia.

And the nostalgia was more than enough to get him in the mood to read. He chalked up the small stint in the library to a test run and started again from the beginning.

Hange Zoe was born to a rich family within the Walls of Wall Sina…

Hange had taken great pains to describe everything from the cobblestone streets to the crystal-like bricks that lined the walls of the elegant buildings. The bricks shone with a unique glint and that alone had been enough for Hange to waste one paragraph on it.

She then used up another few paragraphs talking about the stifling life within the walls and her own curious nature.

If there’s something you don’t understand, go out and learn to understand it.

Living within the walls wasn’t in her nature so she ran away. She joined the survey corps. She was drawn to the outside world, drawn to titans.

So she became a researcher.

Levi didn’t notice it at first. Although his brain had been able to partition those few early events on the timeline, eventually the words started to shift, blur into one another and he found himself scanning through the paragraphs much quicker than usual.

He knew that much about squad leader Hange Zoe. He knew she hyper fixated on titans. He didn’t need vivid descriptions of Sonny and Bean nor did he need detailed descriptions of the outside world, the guns, the war or even her theories on the rumbling.

She had already told him everything then in the forest. She had told it to him back then in the office. Before he even knew it himself, he was flipping through the pages much faster. Suddenly his mind was pushing him to look out for certain things as he read.

There was something else he was looking for, between the lines of the descriptive narrations of Hange Zoe’s life.

“Maybe we should just live here together right Levi?”

Levi found the quote three pages before the back cover, towards the upper left of the page. He found himself running his left hand up to the corner of the page, slipping that corner between his two fingers, pressing on the ink on paper, just to make sure it wouldn’t so easily smudge with touch. Maybe it might even disappear like some sort of an illusion.

He just had to make sure it was real.

Hange’s exposition on sceneries was exhaustive. They were clear and vivid and they covered everything to the most granular bits of the large painting in his mind. If Levi closed his eyes, he was sure he would see the forest then.

Although Hange’s descriptions were detailed, comprehensive, enough to paint easy pictures in his head, they were far from introspective.

She had taken great pains to describe the darkness, the crackling campfire and the rough gashes of his face but she didn’t talk much about how it felt. Maybe it was up to the reader to contemplate them.

So Levi filled in the blanks, he filled the spaces between the lines with emotions, musings, ponderings. He couldn’t be too sure yet whether they were his or hers though, so he trudged on aimlessly as he read.

Everything happened in fast forward from there. Although Hange never left his side when she could, she was still fighting, suddenly she was strategizing.

Of course she would, she was a commander. He was just an injured soldier.

There was another quote, towards the last page on the upper right and Levi found himself running his pointer finger through it and he pressed on it hard, hard enough to crumple the pages of that corner. He ran his nail through it leaving a noticeable crease before he closed the binder and took a deep breath.

Dedicate your heart.

Just like every other page, there was no introspection into the character that made Hange Zoe, only words, more words then vivid descriptions of everything that happened after.

He didn’t need white spaces between the lines to figure it out for himself. Even if the pages had all been black, save for the words and the emotions they evoked, he felt it then like a weight.

But he shook it off, opened the book once again and continued to read.

Hange flew up. She fought titan after titan. And the fight had ended with her burning up in the air with the one last quote below.

“Titans really are incredible.”

Levi had half the mind to close the book again there, except that time, with no intention of reopening it. If he didn’t hyper fixate on that last sentence towards the end of the page, towards Commander Hange Zoe’s last words, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed the faded grey at the back of the last paragraph.

It was particularly noticeable on the white, between the lines of paragraphs. Once again Levi played with the creases just to make sure he hadn’t missed it. It was the last page, he was sure.

There was something written on the other side of the page. As much as it had ached to read on, Levi willed himself to flip the page.

It was empty, a blank white page. Fortunately, Levi was desperate enough to stare at it a little longer and he soon realized, he was focused on the center, somehow he had expected to find some sort of resolution there.

Hange had left the last line towards the upper left corner.

See you later Hange. Watch over us. Next to it was a shabbily drawn airplane and unlike all the other pages, it was smudged. The ink had blotted, sending light streaks of gray towards the right in such a predictable manner, Levi could almost imagine the way she had held the crease of the corner between her finger tips.

Once again, he shifted the weight of the page, moving his thumb and his pointer to that corner, reproducing the motions of how she must have messed up something so simple. It was easy to imagine and Levi found himself smiling.

Below it, towards the lower part of the page, he saw it. It was written with the same gel pen that bled through the other side of the page.

There were so many things I wanted to tell you but I never got the chance.

“Then why didn’t you say it? You had ten pages to say it.” Hell, you had five years to say it.

The next line read as if Hange had already predicted what he was going to say next.

I was the commander. You were the captain. We had a war to fight.

But you know, I thought when everything ends, once we retire I could let you know.

In a moment of dissonance, Levi started to wonder who those words were for. For all he knew, he could have been telling her the same thing.

Even if you don’t remember, I hope you at least felt it.

Please remember. Even if I wasn’t able to tell you anything, even if I couldn’t stay by your side.

I was watching you until the end.

Commander Hange Zoe

“Commander Hange Zoe,” Levi said it out loud a second time. Those words were ambrosia to his lips and he probably mouthed it a few more times as he stared at the blue sky above him.

Levi let his shoulders fall and he looked back down at the binder. He didn’t even notice he had closed it. “There were so many things I wanted to tell you too.”

You said it already. Commander Hange heard you. The answer came as a whisper. A quiet whisper that blew into his ear, caressing his neck.

And it had him jumping on his seat. “What the fuck Hange.”

“Are you done being sad already?”

“Why would I be sad?”

“Because Commander Hange Zoe died and you were staring at the sky like this for a good few minutes.” Hange let her head fall back playfully and Levi could have sworn he didn’t look like that. When she looked back at him a second later, she gave a knowing smile, an almost mocking smile.

That was enough to get Levi a little abrasive. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was watching you,” Hange said. “You looked like you were concentrating so…”

“I was.”

“So I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You could have announced your presence like a normal person at least, maybe drop a greeting?”

“I had to look for you and you weren’t answering your phone then I got impatient.” Hange seemed unperturbed. “Come on, I’m treating you guys out to dinner.”

Levi opened his phone to see an hour had passed since he last checked the time and beneath it five missed calls, all from Hange. On the upper right of his phone, the silent mode sign flashed like some sort of reminder. “I was in the library so I had to put my phone on silent.” Those words in defense of his actions were instinctive. Soon, as Hange looked back gesturing for him to follow her, he started to realize that maybe that defense was useless.

“Okay Levi,” Hange said. Her tone was reminiscent of a know-it-all. Her pace was insultingly slow. Levi found himself angrily quickening his pace to catch up to her.

Hange’s pace was at least slow enough that even with his recovering leg, he found it easy to catch up. The moment Levi walked past her, he felt familiar arms on his shoulder. They weighed on him and in a way, they had prevented him from overtaking her.

He had no intention of doing so anyway. “How was your defense?” Levi asked. It was an easy question to start with.

“Better late than never but I’m getting a diploma.”

“Late? You’re graduating with all of us.”

“I’m the last one among my batchmates who presented.”

“Believe me, I’m more amazed that you managed to get something out even after redoing your thesis three times.”

“I should thank Kuchel, it was her sources which got me here. I’ll probably send her a copy of my thesis as a thank you. You think she’ll appreciate that?”

“She probably will. Something to help her pass the time when she goes on leave.”

“Leave?”

“In our last session, she told me she’s expecting.”

“Oooh? A baby?”

“She ended up opening up to me about it after our session. She was pretty nervous about having a child for a while and recently, she managed to get over that fear.”

“I guess we all had something to deal with…” Hange said as she pulled him towards the gate. “You think we’ll get to meet the kid one day. I’d love to see Kuchel as a mother.”

“She’ll be a great mother…” Somehow, Levi knew it. He only had to look back at her words, her refined tone and the way she easily shifted between professional and motherly to be almost jealous of the child growing in her womb.

Hange gave him a toothy grin. “Let’s visit her together?”

“Why not?”

The conversation died as they turned the corner of one of the buildings along the path, a corner that opened up to a large courtyard and beyond it the gate of their university.

“Wait, where are we going?” Levi asked,

“I told you, I’m treating you guys out.” Hange answered matter-of-factly.

“Where Hange?”

“We’re having grilled meat.”

“Hange? For the third time… Where?” Levi asked.

It wasn’t Hange who had ended up answering the question. By the gate, Moblit and Nifa were waiting and they looked like they had been waiting a while. Nifa was tapping her feet impatiently while Moblit had seemed genuinely concerned.

“You guys okay? You looked like you were fighting,” Moblit said as he approached them.

“Where are we eating?” Levi asked.

“The Korean grill just a few blocks away.” Moblit said.

Levi didn’t need any more clarification from there. They were all from the same university and the restaurants around the area were a common language among them.

“That’s how you answer a question Hange,” Levi muttered coldly.

“Well, I didn’t think the location was important. I was leading you there already anyway,” Hange responding mirroring that same cold tone with her own. She went ahead and put one arm around Moblit muttering unintelligible words save for the quick congratulations at the start.

“Congratulations?” Levi asked.

“He got nominated for best thesis and everyone's pretty convinced he’s gonna win it,” Nifa answered. She had fallen back behind the two and matched Levi’s pace.

Moblit eventually raised his voice, loud enough for even Levi to hear. “No No… That was your data Hange and it was your idea. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“Still…” Hange’s voice trailed off. She was far enough, her voice was garbled enough that with that few feet distance, her words were unintelligible. Her smile though was very much still perceptible, a genuine golden smile.

“Levi, you agree right?”

Levi looked towards the voice, Moblit’s voice. “Agree with what?”

“If Hange had submitted her thesis early, she could have won ri---.”

“Moblit, stop downplaying your nomination.” Hange interrupted, giving him a strong push n the back.

Moblit wobbled and held onto Hange’s shirt to keep his balance “But it was a good thesis right?” He asked as soon as he recovered. He looked at Levi expectantly.

It was only then did Levi realize, despite the five months together, he never really thought too much to ask what her thesis had been about. With his own hectic schedule, his physical therapy sessions, his sessions with Shela, maybe it just never peaked his interest. He was starting to feel guilty at such a reminder and before he knew it, he was finding excuses for it.

She spent a lot of the past few months cooped up in her room if not in class, save for the few moments when she would accompany to therapy sessions or to meet with Shela.

His thoughts flew back to the document she had shared with him.

To: Levi Ackerman.

And if that document was half as good as her thesis, he was sure she did well. So he returned Moblit’s approval with one of his own. “It was a good thesis,” Levi said. “But don’t downplay yours. You won fair and square.”

That was all there was to it. Hange didn’t win. But she didn’t seem to mind either. Hange had snuck what looked to be a grateful smile and she continued to playfully poke at Moblit then, probably whispering inside jokes, reminiscing about their life before.

Her mood was unwavering all the way until the restaurant

It turned out Mike and Nanaba were in the restaurant already and they only joined Hange at glomping Moblit for his nomination. The four childhood friends created a world of their own in the restaurant, a world full of inside jokes, long gone memories and maybe even discussions on future plans.

Levi deemed it appropriate to sit on a chair at the edge of their long table and just quietly listen.

Mike was selected for the national team.

Nanaba wanted to go back to minor league volleyball after college.

Moblit was going to medical school

And Nifa, who had joined their conversation then, was going to take masters.

Hange’s plans were either long-awaited or they were intentionally avoided. He couldn’t tell.

By the time the question came, it had come as a casual question by Moblit who had always been sensitive with the way he phrased things so his intention had been something Levi couldn’t read either.

Before Hange could open her mouth though, Nifa chimed in greeting. “Doctor Erwin!”

“Sorry I’m late. We were discussing the nominees,’ Erwin said.

And the topic shifted from there, even before Levi could get answers.

Erwin never spilled who the winner was, but it was apparent in his gaze that shifted to the side and the smile that curled up his lips that it was one of them. By the time Hange had started being too vocal about it, Erwin had spilled more than enough for the students to guess for themselves.

“You’re free anytime next week for an awarding ceremony right?” Erwin asked.

“Anytime sir! Thank you for this opportunity.”

Erwin shook his head. “You wrote a great thesis. It was well deserved. Will you be inviting Elijah?”

“I think I should treat him out, I’ve wasted a lot of his time this past year... He’s been pretty busy training with the national team though… But I’ll talk to him.”

Their long table was already a conglomerate of conversations and Levi struggled to keep up.

Somewhere between conversations, the charcoal had been added to the grills, the sides were served and Levi found himself listening intently to Erwin and Moblit’s exchange in particular while he played with the spinach on his plate.

Elijah swept the high jump. He swept the other events. He came out winning the Most Valuable Player Award for the High Jump. And he recently started training with the national team.

The Olympics isn’t a far off dream at this point. It’s probably just another step for him.

Moblit had shown up for the first training and he had started to describe Elijah’s skill with the bar then. His coordination with the take off food, his wide penultimate stride.

He was using lingo most track and field athletes wouldn’t have thought twice to use and Levi had used and heard them more times than he had counted through the years. Having not thought about high jumping in months, listening to such a conversation peppered with such words that used to be home for him, seemed surreal.

So surreal that for a second, Levi lost his grip on a reality. Enough to not have noticed the waitress who served the drink in front of him

It was a short and stout glass. The contents looked particularly ---almost dangerously--- colorful and the red stick on the side was enough for Levi to deduce what exactly it was. To confirm it, he took one sniff.

“Nanaba, why the hell did you order alcohol?” Hange asked.

“It’s a celebration right? We should be drinking. Cheers!” She raised her cup up to no one in particular.

Moblit and Nifa had been nice enough to join albeit a little uncomfortably. Levi found himself making eye contact with Erwin who was still slowly mixing the cup in front of him, seeming unsure of what exactly happened.

Hange seemed flustered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with us drinking but more people are coming and---”

“Sorry we’re late Hange!”

Armin? That was Armin’s voice. But it wasn’t just Armin, tailing behind him were several other very familiar people.

Armin continued. “None of us wanted to go alone…”

Of course none of them would want to go alone, they were high school students and around them were a group of college students and a college professor.

A group of high school students among college students. Levi noted. He eyed the cocktail glass in front of him then. Was that what Hange was worried about? Levi found himself downing his cup a little quicker.

“Blame Connie here, He was the one wasting his time on extra batting practice until god knows what time,” Jean said as he followed behind Armin.

“Shut up Jean. At least Armin didn’t have to cover my subway fee.”

“I just didn’t have change on me.”

“Calm down you two, you’re eating here for free.” Historia went in between the two, and walked up to Hange who had stood up to guide them to their seats. “I could pay for my share.”

“No, no. I set aside money for this. I just wanted to express my thanks for the past few months and I wanted to meet you guys again. I hope we can keep in touch even after...” Hange pulled Historia to the side and Levi couldn’t make out the rest of their conversation.

So he focused elsewhere.

“Is this… unlimited?” It was Sasha who spoke up that time. It was great timing that the moment Sasha had come in, the first plates of meat were starting to be served on the table. Expectedly, she had been the first one to sit and she started cooking on her end.

“Yes it is,” Levi answered

“No way… Right after a long day of training? Is this heaven…” Sasha could have been tearing up at that moment. She had been too focused on the meat so Levi couldn’t confirm it for himself but the crack on her voice had been evidence enough.

Hange squeezed herself among the high school students who had settled on the nearby seats. “No no… This is a thank you for helping me with my thesis. I got some good data from you guys so really, thank you for taking the time to fill out those forms and dealing with all my messages and calls,” Hange said.

“You didn’t have to. You did more than enough for us.” Jean sat in front of Levi towards the edge of the table. “You helped me fix my dunking position.”

“Ah Jean, you mentioned last time, you’d be going abroad for college. Will you?”

Jean grinned. “Basketball isn’t too big of a sport here so I thought of going somewhere where I can go pro. I got a full ride in a pretty good university.”

“Jean! Congratulations!” Their side of the table had exploded into other conversations.

They were all going to colleges, some abroad, some local. Levi had turned to their side, ready to passively listen for details. He was starting to get invested in their plans too.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Mikasa Ackerman. He instantly recognized her voice. “Ah sorry, I didn’t notice you there.” Levi said.

Mikasa remained standing. She stared at Levi expectantly and pointed to the seat next to him. “So, I can sit here?”

“Go ahead.” Levi scooched over on the bench. He eyed the filled cocktail glass next to Mikasa and pushed it casually towards himself. The last thing he wanted to do then was enable a minor.

Mikasa didn’t seem to notice the drink at leats.. “I talked to Elijah,” she said as she started placing meat in the grill... “He welcomed me during my first training.”

“Didn’t he move on from collegiate jumping already?”

“He had some free time. We had a long talk about prospects after college. I’m guessing coach put him up to it. Some extra persuasion points maybe?”

“You’re not gonna change your mind.”

“I don’t plan on changing my mind. I submitted my documents, signed the contract and I’ll probably be moving to the dorm next week so I’ll be nearer to the oval.” Mikasa paused to eat an egg roll.

“To think you were so against it before.”

Mikasa shrugged. “I guess it’s just easier now since Eren’s starting to prepare for entrance exams. I’m actually convinced he’s gonna be fine. He’s been taking review classes and he’s been studying a lot outside the classes too.”

“Entrance exams of Paradis University?”

“That’s his first choice,” Mikasa said. “Are you still staying in the dorm? Maybe we could go through drills together on off-days and you could give me a few pointers.”

“I’ll be in the dorm for a week more or so... I’m not exactly sure.”

“You’re gonna wait for Hange?”

Is it obvious? Levi avoided her gaze then, looking back at his empty plate. He soon realized he hadn’t even started cooking himself. So he dropped a few slabs of meat on the grill in front of him to feign at least some disconnect. “Maybe,” he answered.

“It would be nice to get a few pointers from you,” Mikasa said. “You really were one of the best jumpers out there.”

“I won’t be able to demonstrate a jump if that’s what you’re expecting. Besides Hange is much better at giving pointers. She’s a lot more observant than I am.”

“I’m sure there are things you can teach me that Hange can’t. I wanna improve my vertical jump. And maybe try some of the other events as well.”

“This is a complete 180 from you months ago..”

“I’m stuck training twice a day. I barely get to talk to Eren and Armin. So I ended up finding happiness in just jumping… And I thought to myself, might as well make some jumping goals for myself right?”

“So what’s your goal?”

“I wanna beat your high jump record. Even Elijah hasn’t beaten that yet,” Mikasa said.

“That’s some character development,” Levi mumbled.

Mikasa ignored it though or maybe she didn’t hear it. Levi never really figured out how loud he had said it. “.. And the only person who can teach me how to beat your record is you.”

***

Levi had eaten too little and had drank a little too much. But he would rather not have told anyone that.

So he had made the journey to the rooftop of the restaurant alone. There was a toilet conveniently by the staircase where he had ended up dry heaving on the bowl. A few dry heaves and a few sets of stairs later, he found himself sitting back on the metal wired fence that lined the roof.

Just long enough to get my bearings. Levi reassured himself as he leaned further in.

As time passed though, he managed to convince himself that maybe he could stay there long enough to just wait for everyone to leave. The last thing he would have wanted to do was puke on anyone on the way down.

He checked his clock. 9:30pm. Most college students wouldn’t even be leaving for the party yet at that time. His strict athlete schedule meant he never was a normal college student though.

He graduated college already anyway. With that realization, Levi was a little more merciful towards himself. So he rode out the high of his inebriation. He counted out the stars above him, treating it as some sort of countdown to sobriety.

It probably wouldn’t work. After the tenth star, his head was still pounding, the stars were starting to show signs of blending amongst one another and he could feel his face warming up.

He was starting to feel the beginnings of dry heaving—or possibly wet heaving—again. Unable to sit up any longer, he lay on his side.

He didn't know how long he had lain there, waiting for the pounding to subside before he heard footsteps. His first instinct had been to force himself to sit up. His mind though was quick to recognize those footsteps, that natural mix of fast, loud and even as they made their way up the stairs and somehow, he ended up relaxing instead on the cold concrete floor.

How many times had he searched for those footsteps before?

“Hey, you know you’re lucky we’re here on a weekday during off season. If this were a weekend, the rooftop probably would have been full and they would have kicked you out already.”

“How’s everyone?” Levi asked. He kept his question to two words but the amount of syllables he had to pronounce then only garbled it.

“They left already,” Hange slid back on the metal fence and leaned back on it. “It’s just you and me now.”

“Okay,” Levi said. He would have wanted to say more. The pounding headache only made something so simple as speaking, a game of Russian Roulette and he didn’t want to figure out which word had the bullet, and which word could have him throwing up on Hange then.

“It’s just you and me,” Hange repeated.

You said that already. Levi would have wanted to say. Instead he kept his own response at a hum of understanding. She should interpret that as a yes at least.

“You don’t wanna talk? Or are you just too drunk?”

Levi didn’t respond.

“Didn’t you just have two cups?”

Levi raised up three fingers. He wasn’t exactly sure how many at that point. But he was sure it felt like more than two.

“Okay, that still isn’t enough to be deadass drunk you know.” Hange seemed impatient. And maybe a little disappointed.

So Levi took one risk. “Just keep talking. I’m listening.” Maybe that had been enough to get some bile up his throat. It had done more than enough to aggravate the pounding in his head and he found himself leaning on Hange’s shoulder.

As she held him closer, her hand gently guided him deeper onto her shoulder. Within seconds, Levi found he had rested his head on her lap and was staring up at the sky above.

The night was clear, the stars were shining and Levi was counting the stars again, a little ticked that he had lost his pattern and his train of thought of a few minutes ago. He was starting from the top again and he could have sworn the stars were constantly moving. There was no way he would have been able to guess which line of stars he had already counted.

“Hey, talk to me.” Hange only made the ordeal of counting stars worse. Her big head of all things was obscuring the view of the patterns he was starting to form as he counted.

Get out, I’m counting stars. That’s what he would have wanted to say then.

Hange could have heard it. Or maybe she didn’t. She bent a little more forward, so unnaturally, Levi could have sworn she had done it out of spite. She stared at him with wide eyes, her lips curled up into a playful smile. “Let’s talk Levi, one more hour and they’re gonna close. Besides the view here is nice, it’s breezy and…”

“And?”

“You’re probably too drunk to move now. We’re gonna have to get a taxi home.”

“Later,” Levi mumbled as he turned on his side and buried his face into Hange’s polo which smelled unavoidably like beef. He would have complained then if his head wasn’t pounding and if it didn’t dawn on him then, he probably smelled worse.

“Okay, Wanna talk about my work?”

“Thesis?”

“That… and, the binder I gave you, the one with the stories.”

“What about it?” There was a lot to talk about. But it wasn’t like there was much Levi could have contributed then but one to two syllable answers.

“What did you think?”

“Good.”

Hange pouted. “No, not about the quality. How did it make you feel?”

“Good.”

“Okay, how did Commander Hange’s death make you feel?” Hange had taken pains to pronounce the word death a little more clearly than everything else. Enough for Levi to almost think throwing up on her would be a good idea.

So he took another risk. “If you had so much more to say, why didn’t you say it?” Levi asked. His voice would naturally slur so he willed himself to enunciate every syllable even if it could make him look like an idiot in the process.

“That’s what Commander Hange should have been asking Levi,” Hange said.

“Captain Levi didn’t wanna let Commander Hange sacrifice herself. It was obvious.”

“No it wasn’t.” Hange shook her head, quickly enough to get even Levi dizzy. “You wrote something before, right? Your descriptions of everything were incredibly vivid, like I remembered the views, the appearance of the titans, the way you weaved words together but you know half the time, I couldn’t even be sure of what Captain Levi was thinking.”

“That’s how it felt reading your work. Squad leader Hange, Commander Hange… all they described were titans.”

“But Commander Hange explicitly said she wanted to live with Captain Levi. It was obvious too,” Hange said.

And for a second, maybe they were engaged in some mental sparring, a game of tug of war. Levi was still a little too incapacitated, he couldn’t take the initiative.

So Hange spoke up, loud and clear. “I thought being with each other, doing all that was enough of a love letter. Did they need words? A mad declaration of love?”

“Maybe, no one can be too sure unless somebody says something right?”

“Hange was the commander. Levi was the captain. With the war going on, I don’t think they could have left their post right. They couldn’t be too selfish. I think the commander was planning to wait until retirement to say it.”

“Retirement never came.”

“We’re both retired now,” Hange said. “I’m done with this whole academic stint. You’re done with your whole athletic stint. We have the time to make it work for Commander Hange and for Captain Levi right?”

“Are you saying we’re Captain Levi and Commander Hange?”

“My dreams tell me yes.”

“Dreams huh? That’s pretty objective.”

“Hey, I think I did enough research on this to make a theory about it. It was part of my thesis.”

“And you do realize you’ve never told me what your thesis was about?”

“Sorry about that…”

“So you knew? I always thought I was an asshole for not asking.”

“You asked a few times, not directly, but I think maybe you wanted to go in that direction,” Hange said. “And I admit, I ended up digressing every time.”

“Why?”

“I guess I wasn’t too comfortable telling you yet. I was writing my thesis side by side with that story and ever since I got serious about it, after a few dreams, after that night in the hospital, I wanted the memories to be as raw as possible, untainted by whatever story Captain Levi told me before. It was Commander Hange’s story, not Captain Levi’s. So I guess that’s why I wanted to avoid discussion on it.”

“Thesis is done. The book is done. You can talk about it now.”

“You're gonna get bored. So I’ll just read out the title.”

Hange twisted towards her side, jostling Levi in the process and Levi had to bite his lip not to aggravate the dull headache then. He heard the sound of a zipper and the sound of books pushed against one another.

After what felt like a lot more than a few seconds, it stopped. Hange opened the book, she turned on the flashlight of her phone.

The glare was sudden and for a good few seconds the glare of the light could have been right on him. Maybe that was what had made it particularly painful for Levi then.

He buried his face further into Hange’s shirt and let out a taut curse.

“Sorry,” Hange whispered, seeming distracted. After flipping through the pages for a few seconds longer, she read it out loud. “Nature and Nurture as Determinants of Athletic Potential, A Case Study on High Performing Athletes… Okay you know, maybe I was a little biased towards ‘nature,’’ she added cheekily.

“Why nature?”

“Dreams… Past life. What if… You’re Captain Levi and I’m Commander Hange Zoe. Right? We have the evidence. Captain Levi was humanity’s strongest and he was really good with fighting in the air... Commander Hange Zoe liked strategy and research... And the fact that we had the same dreams?” Hange trailed off.

Levi was in no state to respond.

So Hange continued. “You wrote a lot Levi and maybe you’ll write it again. But I can swear, from what I remember about your works, and what I remember from mine, They’re the same story. And Kuchel had something similar right? What if past lives are real?”

“I don’t think you’re wrong..”

Hange pulled another book from her bag then.

Under the dim starry night, Levi made out the thin binder, the one he had read that afternoon. She started to flip through the pages, much faster as if she memorized the exact page and maybe the exact position where the paragraph was.

“Maybe we should just live here together, right Levi?” Hange read out loud.

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us… I know you’re not able to stay out of the action. Those words echoed clearly in Levi’s mind then. Captain Levi was still alive inside him and he was whispering.

Clear enough to convince Levi. Maybe past lives are real. Levi thought to himself. He was in another life then, circumstances were different so he changed the script a bit, a script fit for soon-to-be graduates Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman.

“Where to, Hange Zoe? What’s the game plan?” Levi asked.

“What’s the game plan of an academic washout…” Hange asked. “Well first things first, thank my parents for their grad gift, you know, the money to pay for the all you can eat beef… I’ll probably get a full time job, save up money then decide if I wanna go to med school again but at this point, I might just be better off pursuing a research track.”

“Didn’t Commander Hange wanna study plants?”

“She did,” Hange said. “And you know maybe she’ll get the chance now. Didn’t Captain Levi wanna own a tea shop?”

“I think that’s a viable career option for an athletic washout. The Olympics and the national team are out of my plate anyway.”

“So what? Teashop and research?”

“Teashop and research.”

“Well first things first, we’re gonna have to save right? My parents and I have been reconciling our differences lately already but I don’t wanna borrow too much money so our best option would be to get a place outside the city? You think we’d be able to afford that?”

Levi forced a slight nod. “Maybe a place with lots of green. You’d probably enjoy the trees and you’ll find lots to study during your days off. The commute to work is gonna be a bitch though.”

“We’ll find a job nearby or we’ll make it work. Just long enough to figure things out.”

Figure things out… The conversation died then. But maybe it did because Hange had started to do a little more research then, he saw in the glare in her glasses, the natural green over the white background.

Was she researching houses? Levi asked silently. It wasn’t worth asking anyway. They had only a few weeks before their contract ends and they’d be forced to vacate the dorms. Maybe it was a good idea to search much earlier.

So Levi endured the bright glare of the screen and searched for the beauty in the green glare on the white screen on Hange’s glasses then, and maybe he found it underneath in her eyes that seemed to be smiling.

If eyes could smile… No, they were definitely smiling.

“I’m sorry, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave. The restaurant is closing soon.”

Just like that, the moment was broken.

“We’re going down. Just give us a few minutes to fix our stuff.”

“Let’s go, Levi?”

“I would've wanted to stay here a little longer. It feels like a dream. I feel like Captain Levi here.”

“Because you are Captain Levi,” Hange said as she started to stuff the books back into her bag.

“Alright, Commander Hange.”

Hange chuckled. “You seem very disappointed.”

“Do I?” Levi couldn’t really tell the face he was making there. Hange’s face wasn’t the clearest either under the dark light. So he considered the possibility that she could be right. He might have been disappointed.

“Fine, I’ll give you something to dream about,” Hange said slyly. “You know, if Commander Hange Zoe wasn’t fighting a war, there was something else she probably would have done.”

“Wha--?” Before Levi could even complete the question, she had answered it herself.

She answered it with a quick peck. Or at least it should have been a quick peck.

With Levi’s mouth half open then, it morphed into something else in that split second, lasting a little longer. Their lips locked, their tongues touched and it had taken a few seconds longer to let go.

It probably could have taken a minute, an hour or even an eternity longer and Levi wouldn't have minded.

He continued to replay it in his head again and again as Hange helped him up, slung his one arm over hers. His surroundings changed, from the starry rooftop, the restaurant interior then the taxi on the way home.

And it ended with the sofa of the dorm lobby, the wooden ceiling and Hange leaning on him on the sofa.

He was still thinking about it then. In the silence, in the peace even with the changing surroundings, he had been on cloud nine the whole time.

He was convinced, Captain Levi wouldn't have minded that eternity either. Hell, he probably would have loved it.

***

There was a hiking trail near their house. Luckily it wasn’t too steep.

So Levi deemed himself well enough to brave it. It had been almost a year since his surgery, six months since the last tear and most days, as long as he wore his knee brace, his knee wouldn’t give out on him.

Unbuckling happened. Swelling happened. The dull aches never left. Levi had learned to just live with it, ride through the worst days.

It was as if his knee knew then that that day in particular was special. Or maybe Levi had chosen that day because his knee was feeling better. That day, Hange was notably freer and on the days leading up to autumn, it was only gonna getting colder and colder and he didn’t wanna have to wait another year to hike.

“Just tell me if anything hurts,” Hange said as they made the almost perilous journey up the hill.

The steeper it got, the harder it would be on his knees. He noted that, it would get worse particularly on the way down.

It was still far from the steep incline in the reserve Hange had brought him to more than a year ago.

There was a peak that overlooked the small town they had settled in. The incline, the climb albeit longer, was friendlier for his aching muscles and his bum knee.

Levi was counting his blessings. So through the worst of the dull aches, the worst of the pains as they climbed up, Levi gritted his teeth and clocked it as ‘bearable at least,’ not worth a complaint.

Hange probably could tell though. He didn’t figure out by her eyes since he kept walking behind her. She hadn’t been particularly pushy either. He had figured it out for himself when she started talking, and she never stopped.

“How’s Petra?”

“She’s working towards a PT Certificate.”

“How’s Isabel?”

“I heard she’s starting her third year of high school already?”

“And Farland?”

How do you even know them?

“I visited Erwin a lot in his office in the hospital you know. And I talked to them.”

But it hadn’t been just that. Hange had an emotional investment extending far beyond that. He slowed his pace, appreciating her seemingly interested voice then. With that, Levi was reminded, they were Commander Hange’s friends too.

So he continued to answer questions as they came. They were a good distraction from the specter of exhaustion that loomed over him.

And soon, he took the reins. "So how's Moblit?" It had only felt natural to ask too.

"He's in his first year of med school...How's Mikasa?"

"Her first college competition is next month.”

Conversations shifted quickly from topic to topic, person to person before dying somewhere at the peak when they attributed the death of such to speechlessness at the view before him or just utter exhaustion.

Levi knew it was neither of it and he became sure of it as Hange guided him to the bench that overlooked the rolling hills behind them.

She kept one hand over his knee. "Your knee did a good job not swelling."

"Even if it does, I won’t regret it. I wanted to do this for a while."

"Is this because you couldn't join me up the peak last year?"

"Probably," Levi said. He turned to her. "You didn’t get to the top then right?"

“No, I didn’t. I went back down as quickly as I could when I heard you scream my name.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what came over me. But Levi knew, so he kept that last part to himself. “You know, maybe I am doing this for you. You still wanna fly right?"

"Yeah, I do. Even if I remember everything then, after writing everything out… Sure I know how it ends for Commander Hange Zoe but... I still wanna fly. Maybe because I just wanna enjoy the freedom that comes with it.”

"Then I guess we made a good choice." Levi grabbed his backpack from behind him and unzipped it. "I wanted to give this to you. And I thought you might enjoy reading it in a place with lots of sky."

He had binded it the same way and he had titled it similarly.

It looked like Hange knew what it was. "Levi… is this…" Her wide eyes looked far from confused.

"After reading your work, I started dreaming about Captain Levi again so I rewrote the story I made a year ago. It's not a perfect copy but I think I remembered enough to maybe get you immersed again in his thoughts."

Hange didn't reply but Levi didn't mind.

In a way, she had responded, through whispers, murmurs and the grin on her face as she looked through the file. "To Commander Hange? Yours truly, Captain Levi?" Hange asked, a little louder and clearer than her murmurs. She wanted to be listened to.

"Are you laughing? That's the same thing you wrote at the top in your own file,” Levi said. “I guess you can say, it's Captain Levi's love letter to Commander Hange."

“A love letter huh? All I’m reading here are long drawn out descriptions of humanity’s strongest soldier fighting titans…” Hange chuckled. “And maybe some mentions of Commander Hange Zoe.”

“Captain Levi was with Commander Hange a lot right?” It was a shoddy reply. Still, an inkling of pride had Levi clinging on to that comment.

"Do you notice that neither of us actually wrote something introspective. It’s like they never could tell what the other was thinking. Captain Levi was too obsessed with fighting, Commander Hange was too obsessed with Titans."

"Those were how my dreams were."

"That's how they were for me too."

"But if you look over there, towards the last page, you'd find it. I wrote 'dedicate your heart' right? Captain Levi didn't want you to leave"

"I remember that and if you looked towards the end of my work you'd see I wrote... Commander Hange wanted to live with you."

Levi had a copy of it on his phone so he opened up, did a quick search and highlighted the text.

Maybe we should just live here together, right Levi?

For a second they sat in silence. Levi was too busy finding a reason for the tens of thousands of words worth of exposition all for one sentence. Maybe Hange was doing similarly.

Hange spoke up once again, only confirming it for herself. "Commander Hange and Captain Levi really took each other for granted huh?”

"They had a war to fight. They couldn't be too intimate could they?"

“So instead of just explicitly saying I love you through a love letter, they decide to send each other memories of a past life and we’re left to decode it for ourselves?”

“Captain Levi was never really the type to say he loves someone. And I’m guessing Commander Hange wasn’t the type either.”

“Or maybe... They were too scared to think about it to admit it was love, but somehow the reader just knows.” Hange suggested. She turned to Levi then, eyeing his phone.” It wasn’t just in the ‘live together’ part right? I’m sure you felt it in the letter? With every mention of Captain Levi… Toward the end, he never left her side and she never his side too right?”

Levi nodded slowly, gripping his phone a little tighter. “I felt it and every time I reread it, it only got stronger." And how many times had he reread it since she first gave it to him months ago?

“You know Levi, even since last year, the first time I read it, I felt it for myself and I really thought they would have kissed. And maybe if Commander Hange died they would have.” Hange cocked her head to one side. “So none of us needed reflection or introspection huh? I guess the descriptions on titans and technology made some great padding to the love letter.”

“Don’t you think it just made everything more complicated? For us?”

“Maybe it did. But I like to think this long drawn out puzzle just makes everything deeper, worth remembering. Think about it, just mentioning someone again and again, just quietly assuming that someone would be there by your side forever, not thinking too much of it but just casually thinking ‘I wouldn’t mind if they were there forever.’ And when the prospect of losing them comes up, that refusal to let go...the regrets that follow... I think those run deeper than any flowery declaration of love." Hange waved the binder in front of him. "I like this. It’s better than any love letter I could have gotten.”

“Two idiots just writing stories about their tragic past lives and exchanging it," Levi mumbled that first part to himself. He turned to Hange. "I enjoyed the process of writing these ‘love letters’," Levi said. "Did you?"

Hange nodded. “It wasn’t all happiness for sure but overall, I’m enjoying the writing process and I'm enjoying where the dreams brought me. It’s not where I expected to be a year ago but hey, who says life should be following the path we set for it,” she said. She took a deep breath. “And I should be saying the same to you. I’m not the Olympics. I’m not the national track and field team but you don’t mind right? Being stuck with me? Writing love letters like that?”

“Hey, instead of going to medical school, you’re here living with me in some small house near some hiking trail. We’re both on nine to five jobs saving up money until god knows when. It’s a far cry from what our teammates and blockmates are doing.”

“But you know if I didn’t drop the other theses, I don’t think I would have written this much about you.”

“And if I didn’t get injured, I wouldn’t have written. I’d probably be training with the national team now.”

And we wouldn’t be here. Somehow, Levi knew she was thinking about it too. From his peripherals, he saw, Hange had leaned back on the bench and had let her head fall back. She was staring at the sky above her.

He followed suit.

There was something about the sky at the top of the hill. It was a light yet mesmerizing blue that endlessly stretched above him. There were no buildings, no trees, or no highlands framing such a view. The sky looked free.

And for the first time in months, Levi felt like he was flying again.

But he didn’t want to fly alone. Levi dropped one hand along that very small gap between them.

It looked like Hange had taken that as a sign to reciprocate.

Levi looked to his hand, cradled against hers and up at her face to see that she still wasn’t looking down. In fact she held her head back further, propped her glasses on her forehead, and continued to stare at the blue sky above.

The blue sky reflected on Hange’s hazel eyes and it manifested in streams of color Levi couldn’t have even imagined as ever been producible by blue and brown. He wanted to catch her gaze then.

So he spoke up. “It wasn’t easy to accept it at first but I’m happy where we are. I’m not regretting anything and you know, there’s something liberating about failing---” Levi shook his head almost instantly as if what he had just said dawned on him then. “Actually wait, I think I phrased it wrong. This probably sounds weird.”

Hange continued to stare at the sky. “No, I think I get it,�� she said. “Failing is embarrassing, it fucking hurts and for a while it feels like life stops. But when you fail enough times, failure starts to feel like a friend. And when you fail a few more times, you stop chasing and that’s the liberation you’re talking about right? There’s something liberating about accepting failure as just something that happens and just riding through that downward spiral before picking yourself up again." Hange held the booklet over her and reopened it. “I’m happy where I am now too, post-downward spiral.”

Levi could only watch and listen as she whispered unintelligible sentences to herself, grinning at the pages. He wondered which scenes she was reading through then.

“Well, it’s time for both of us to regroup then. We can't just keep feeling sorry for ourselves right?” Hange added as she stood up. “I have my research. You have your tea shop to work on. We better start hiking now or I don’t think we’ll make it back before sun down.”

“I would have wanted to enjoy this view a little longer.”

“Then we schedule another hike. We endure the uphill battle, we enjoy the peak then we deal with the downward spiral. That’s how it’s always been anyway.” She stuffed the booklet on her backpack and pulled him up from the bench.

“Yeah, we’re both used to it anyway,” Levi joked. He felt Hange’s hand behind him as he looked down at the decline. Only looking at it then did it dawn on him, hiking backwards, the downward spiral which followed the euphoria at the peak could be almost comparable to hell for his knees.

“Hey, I’ll go first. If you feel like you’re losing your balance, just grip my shoulder harder. Besides we can look for a gentler slope on the way down. We just have to get past this one.”

“We won’t be able to get down if we don’t deal with this huh?”

“We won’t,” Hange said. “I know it’s bad for your knees… but if you walk at an angle, it will reduce pressure. I’ll cover for you.” She clutched his hand, went ahead and guided his hand towards her shoulder.

Levi took it as a sign to grip..

“Just relax," Hange said.

It was easier said than done. Levi waited for his legs to start screaming then. The dull aches were ubiquitous, the buckling and unbuckling of his knees were a discomfort he had learned to just ride through and he was sure, he wouldn’t be hiking for another few months after that.

Even before the slope had gradually morphed into something gentler, Hange had started talking again as if she knew once again that it could ease them the whole ordeal of hiking downwards.

“Remember that teashop, the one just a ten minute walk away from our apartment, you wanna check it out?” Hange asked.

There was only one teashop near their place and Levi was quick to recognize it. “I’ve been going there everyday after work.”

“Without me?”

“Where do you think I buy the teabags and the coffee beans that never seem to run out?" Levi asked. He had taken great care to say the word 'coffee' in particular. It was Hange who went through bags of them too quickly that it was almost impossible to not frequent the cafe.

“Fine, I won’t complain. Tell me about it then, any regulars? Anything notable?”

“There are two kids who live nearby and they hang out there a lot. A brunette and a blond. Falco and Gabi.” Those names had been easy to remember. Yet as he imagined those two kids in the cafe, as he recalled their minimal interactions, he started to wonder if they ever really did introduce themselves.

“Those are familiar names," Hange commented.

“And there’s a pilot who hangs out there but mostly on weekends. His name is Onya--”

“Onyakopon?”

“So you’ve met them before?”

“No, just seems familiar.”

“So what, are you gonna tell me you’ve dreamed of them?”

“Maybe I did.”

Somehow, that had taken a weight of his shoulders then and it had started to become easier to admit on his end. “To be honest, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of them too.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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thedistantdusk · 3 years ago

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Arcadia, Chapter 4

Well! What could happen next to our star-crossed investigative pair? Yeah idk, man... somehow, this fic got a lot darker than I intended. Anyway! Thanks again to the same folks, without whom this story wouldn’t be possible. None of this story is safe for work, and this chapter is no exception ;)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

D A Y + F O U R

She’s not sure when she wakes up. Her eyes blink open in the bleary morning… that foggy gap between night and day. Blue-green light streams through the windows, coloring the bedroom like it’s underwater.

He’s the first thing she notices, all warm and curled beside her. Harry… her Harry. A sad smile graces her lips as it all comes flooding back. Mike. The tulpa. The shower. Harry…

But together, all of those things are uncomfortable. Bits of it were nice, but the whole thing makes her stomach churn. It’s much easier to—

She presses her bum against him, hoping that wakes him up. Hoping he takes the hint. Harry heaves a deep breath, but doesn’t acknowledge her. Ginny bites her lip and wiggles back. Again.

Finally, he responds. But not how she’d hoped.

“Let’s… not jump to starting that up again,” Harry murmurs into her ear, his voice graveled with sleep. “Ok?”

She whips around, brow furrowed. “So you’ve suddenly become unattracted to—?”

He barks out a humorless laugh and reaches for his glasses. “We both know that’ll never happen.” He takes her in, reclining on the tufted headboard; she can’t help but feel flattered by the red patches that bloom on his cheeks. “Erm…” He clears his throat. “Could you get a dressing gown, actually? I really want to have a serious conversation and…”

He’s never been able to concentrate while she’s naked, has he?

“Sure.” For some reason, her skin prickles as she rises to her feet to pad across the carpet. Exposed. She feels exposed, even though Harry’s probably seen her naked more times than she has. Because this time, it’s not so much that he’s seeing her body naked— it’s that he’s about to discuss things she’s tried very, very hard to deny.

Ginny emerges from the closet in a white dressing gown and gives Harry a little twirl. “Happy?”

His lips curl in a tired smile. “Not… exactly. But I’m hoping to change that.”

“Oh?” Ginny settles in the desk chair. She’s not keen on this conversation, but some part of her recognizes it’s long overdue.

Harry begins by clearing his throat again. “So. Erm.” He places his fingers in a steeple and studies them. “As I… admitted last night, I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s been an awful, awful five years, but frankly it would’ve been worse if we’d stayed together, under those circumstances.”

She opens her mouth to object, but he raises a hand to forestall an interruption.

“Let… let me finish. Because after Percy died...” He shoots her a significant look. “You changed. Ok?”

“That’s not exactly fair,” she snaps, peering at her painted toenails. “Of fucking course I changed. If I didn’t change, I’d be a bloody sociopath. Is that who you wanted to shag?”

Harry heaves a deep sigh. “No. And I’m not going to let you get away with twisting things… again. Ok? Please, just let me finish.”

She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth. For fuck’s sake, why does she already want to cry?

“You changed,” Harry continues, “and I really don’t blame you for it, but you refused to talk about Percy, or that night, or- or honestly, even anything remotely sad! Ever!” He pauses to collect his thoughts; guilt stabs at Ginny’s stomach. She wasn’t aware this frustrated him quite so much…

“You threw yourself into schoolwork,” he adds, blinking at the far wall. “You lost interest in things you loved. We still had sex, but it was…” He winces. “Unattached. It was… it was like it didn’t even need to be me there, in particular.” His eyes flit back to hers. “I tried to talk to you about it loads of times, but then when you joined the Unspeakables, you just used that as an excuse.”

Traitorous tears drip down her cheeks. She brushes them away to defend herself. “I was already interested in joining up before that,” Ginny insists, her voice warbling. “You weren’t there that year, Harry. You didn’t see what it was like at Hogwarts. The Unspeakables were putting out all this… this rubbish misinformation about you and about muggleborns, and—”

“—All of that is well and good,” Harry interrupts, “but the fact is that you became a different person after Percy died, and after nearly a year of living with that, I’d had enough.” He shrugs. “And even five years later, you’ve never sought help, as far as I know. Professional help, from someone who knows what they’re talking about. Not the type of help you find at the bottom of a pint.”

He’s right, of course. It’s like a stinging slap in the face, but he’s bloody right.

“So!” Harry clears his throat again. “As much as I… enjoyed last night, that can’t happen again if we don’t fix what split us up before. You’re still convinced you killed Percy. Until you’re not? This”— he gestures between them— “can’t work. Full stop.”

Ginny swallows and stares into her lap. “I’m not responsible for my brother’s death,” she whispers, emotionless. It’s a mantra, an oath, one she’s so accustomed to repeating that it’s turned foreign and unfamiliar on her tongue.

“Oh, I’m aware,” Harry says, spreading his palms. “The whole bloody world is aware, Jenny.” He sucks his teeth. “But you aren’t.”

There’s a pause. Ginny bites her lip, tempted to launch the spring-loaded denial she’s learned through years of counseling. But this time, it doesn’t come.

Because Harry knows better.

Shit.

That fact settles in the pit of her stomach; what are the chances, really, that she found herself trapped and playing house with the only person on earth who knows better.

“I was the last to see him,” she mutters, eyes downcast. “I told him he’d never replace Fred. I was drunk. Stupid. Stupidly drunk.” She grips her head in her hands, but the words don’t stop. They’re shooting from her, spurred by years of grief and regret and bursting forth like a steam engine.

“My stupid fucking temper,” she continues, every syllable dripping with self-loathing. “Ruining everything. And then he goes and—” She makes a flailing gesture. “Offs himself. Right on my mother’s fucking birthday! The day before your parents—”

“I know,” Harry whispers, his voice pleading. “Ginny, I know. But please, love, it’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. It’s too much to say it aloud, to admit it, to let the waves of regret wash over her. There’s a scuttling of movement as she blinks ahead, gaping like a fish out of water. She’s not even surprised to feel Harry wrapping his arms around her and bringing her back to the bed. To feel his lips pressing to her temple as her body wracks with sobs. And she can’t do anything but lean into him. She can’t do anything but surrender, completely. To indulge in feeling raw and vulnerable and alive.

She doesn’t know how long it takes to come to. It’s not until she’s clinging to his chest that she draws a deep breath.

“You never told me any of this,” Harry says softly, mournfully, his hand playing with her hair. He loves her hair. He’s always loved her hair. With a final sob, she admits— if only to herself— that she misses letting him love it. She misses how he’d bury his face in the crook of her neck. How he’d inhale deeply, right at the crown of her head, and blink down at her with a dreamy smile.

She misses him.

Fuck. She misses him. And not just shagging him… but the whole bit. The late-night snacks and discussions on quidditch plays and heated debates about the best brand of toilet roll.

“What… what if I agree to work on it?” she finally whispers, eyelashes thick with half-dried tears.

Harry sighs; his hands still haven’t left her hair. “If we both agree to work on it… because trust me, I’m not doing fantastic either.” He lets out a chuckle. “Do you know how weird that was, being the stable one for once? Anyway.” He waves this off and continues. “If we both work on it, with proper mind-healers…” He swallows. “I don’t see why we couldn't be physical. Eventually.”

She pulls back to give him a watery grin. “I love you,” she murmurs. For the first time in years, her chest feels full. Her heart warm. Like there’s a chance at something in the future that doesn’t involve work and sadness and takeaways.

But speaking of work.

“I’d erm. Like to keep things with us private,” she says, playing with a piece of lint on the duvet. “Especially from work. And my family. Because…”

The thought of Attica’s face, pinched in disappointment, is nearly enough to replace the progress they’ve made over the past day.

“No,” Harry agrees quickly. “That’s. Yeah. Especially from Ron.” He shudders. “Can you imagine how well that would go over?”

“Huh! That’s ridiculous, Harry.” She bats her eyes at him, her expression the picture of innocence. “You mean you don’t want my brother to know that you went down on me and promptly spunked your—”

He cuts her off with a laugh, tossing a pillow on her face. She pulls it off with a giggle before settling beside him.

“Didn’t think you noticed that,” he admits, trailing a finger down the side of her face. “I really hoped you were asleep.”

She stifles a yawn. “Mmm. Don’t have to be Hermione to put that one together. Clue one: you were down there, which you’ve always… enjoyed.” She sleepily raises her eyebrows. “Clue two, I’ve seen you do that before — more than once— and you always have this weird… sort of duck-walk to take your trousers off.”

Harry groans, his entire face the color of her hair. “Please, please, don’t stop on account of me.” He somehow manages a sarcastic drawl as he removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table. “Let’s continue to detail all the times I’ve finished too quickly.”

“Not just too quickly,” she corrects, kissing him on the nose. “I’m only talking about coming in your trousers, which you’ve also managed to do several ti—”

Harry snorts. “And how many times have you done it, then?” His green eyes dance with mischief. “Also more than once. As memory serves, our time at Hogwarts got a lot more interesting once you discovered the combination of my thigh and snogging. You just don’t have the equipment to make things particularly messy when—”

“Clue three!” she loudly calls over him. He has the grace to laugh as she turns so they're spooning, her bum pressed against his crotch.

“I… said I loved you,” she finishes, interlacing their fingers. “And that’s always… you know.”

Harry shudders; there’s a sudden rise of fabric against her bum. “Ok, speaking of embarrassing,” he admits, adjusting himself. “You’re actually going to have to erm. Stop saying that? For now? Because…”

“Trust me, Auror Potter,” she murmurs, dropping her voice to her best impression of Kingsley. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Unfair,” he complains, toying with a piece of her hair. “As you can see, I’m a bit of a mess. It still turns me on when you say you love me.”

“Yeah, well, it still turns me on when you breathe,” she mutters, her eyes growing heavy. “Reckon we can just be messes together.”

Harry chuckles before burying his face into her hair. “I’ll always be your mess. Jenny.”

#harry x ginny #harry and ginny #harry potter fanfic #au fanfiction #arcadia chapter 4

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blue-fidelity · 4 years ago

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~ “Smile In The Face of Tragedy”

Chapter One: Beer Run

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

(Y/N) reminisces the events of the summer before senior year. It’s her last year of High School, and she wants to start fresh, the pretty newcomer with shiny blue eyes is willing to help with that.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, abuse (could be trigger warning, reader has a hard past)

The year of 1984 had come into full swing, and (Y/N) had tried to make the rest of her junior year somewhat enjoyable. After the incident with the demogorgon around Christmas, she wanted to focus on the lighter side of life. Which was mainly dicking around with her best friend, and crush, Steve Harrington. Things were going great, till the summer.

‘Summer of ‘84. She dubbed it, “The Summer of Steve & Nancy”. Months usually consisted of Steve and Nancy trying to fix the shattered fragment of what their relationship was, whilst (Y/N) and Jonathan watched on the sidelines. Steve would come to (Y/N)’s house at ungodly hours of the night, usually sneaking through her window.

She’s just been so distant, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong- he’d whimper, laying his head on her lap. She tried to contain her tears, for him. If only she could tell Steve that there was someone better for him, someone that could make him happy. There was one problem with that, though. Steve loved Nancy. It’s not like (Y/N) could change that, and it killed her. Seeing her best friend in this state though, it was another level. She wanted to scream at Nancy, scream at her for stringing Steve on a loose thread that she could’ve easily cut. Instead Nancy hid her feelings for Jonathan and carried on this dance with Steve.

It just wasn’t fair, though, nothing really seemed fair at this point. Everything would eventually come crashing down and it’d leave a trail of broken hearts in the process, but atlast, (Y/N) would keep her head up high. She’d try her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions she wasn’t able to handle. If anything turned down hill, she knew she’d have one thing. Her brother, Dustin.

Dustin was the ray of happiness that (Y/N) projected off of, to his charismatic personality and bright smile, she was like him in many ways. Moments spent with her brother we’re always great, they had a surprisingly better relationship then most siblings did. It was probably because (Y/N) was secretly a nerd, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she probably liked D&D even more than her brother did. That’s why she absolutely loved joining Dustin and his friends on their sessions.

This made the party worship her in a way, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. It’s not everyday you get a bunch of middle schoolers fawn after you. So despite the never ending months of trying to mend Steve’s broken heart, the summer wasn’t a total bust. In fact, she loved the days she spent with those boys (even though it was a little hard to carpool when she drove a Harley Davidson, Mike was always willing to lend his family’s station wagon).

Now, she was nearly two months into her senior year, and she decided to make it count. After all, it was her last year of high school before college. It was the day before Halloween, and she couldn’t be more excited. Dustin and the rest of the party were pretty hyped about spending their first night trick or treating unchaperoned, if (Y/N) remembered correctly he stated, “(Y/N)! We are 13, practically men! As men we fetch our own candy”. To this she giggled, ruffling her brother’s curls, “Well young man, you must save your sister some Kit-Kats”.

(Y/N) knew Tina, the only popular girl that really tolerated her was going to throw a party at her place. She had called her last night all excited about her, “Halloween Bash”, and how she wanted (Y/N) to help plan it. “The guys at the liquor store won’t say no to a hot chic on a motorcycle!”, of course Tina wanted her to get the beer. (Y/N) didn’t even drink that much! Only on occasions, but Tina was her friend. So after school today, she was going to head to ‘Hawkins local liquor store, and PRAY TO GOD she could hide the kegs from her mother. It was moments like these she wished she had a car to stash things in.

She pulled up into Hawkins High’s parking lot, “Toys in The Attic” by Aerosmith playing loudly on her stereo. Spending a whole summer with middle schooler’s kind of made her forget about her social status. If it made sense, (Y/N) wasn’t in the “popular clique”, being Steve’s best friend just gave her a title. Those who didn’t like her called her, “Steve’s Wannabe Queen”, which was partially true, whilst others who liked her didn’t name her anything. She was just, “(Y/N) Henderson”. A face that simply stood out in the crowd because of sheer confidence, kindness, and a vibe that screamed cool. Guys wanted to fuck her, girls wanted to be her. It was a classic High School cliché.

Tina waved at her as she parked her ‘Harley beside her car. She was with Carol and another girl who she couldn’t name. “Hey (Y/N/N), I was just telling the ladies you’ll be supplying the beer for tomorrow?”, she said, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Only because you know the creeps down there won’t turn me down, come on Tina I feel used”, she fake pouted. The girls all laughed, continuing to talk about the party.

As the girls continued their conversation, (Y/N)’s Aerosmith seemed to be drowned out by the familiar sound of The Scorpions, “Rock You Like A Hurricane”. A fellow metal head such as herself in Hawkins Indiana? ‘This couldn’t be possible. About everyone in this town had shitty taste in music, besides her and Jonathan. She turned down her stereo and directed her view to the sound, eyes being met with an ocean blue Camaro, with a California license plate. How fitting. Whoever the driver was, had sped into the parking spot beside hers.

The group of girls behind her stared eagerly to see who this suspicious newcomer was, and if (Y/N) was being honest, she was kind of curious as well. The driver door swung open, and the driver’s combat boots grounded him to the concrete. That’s when she saw him, and he saw her, too.

Something radiated off him, almost a confidence higher than hers. It was cockiness, and at first glance, she could see right through him. Denim jacket, cuffed jeans, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. That was her first impression, and damn was he definitely good looking. For a moment, Steve had been wiped from her brain. Replaced with blonde curls and pretty blue eyes that bore into hers. “Whatcha looking at, princess?”, he smirked- eyeing her up and down like an animal staring down its prey. (Y/N) tried to contain herself, she wasn’t about to be wooed by the new playboy.

“I’m simply looking at your car, 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, right?”, her car knowledge would get her out of this one. “Right you are sweetheart, pleasure to see one of the girls in this town has common sense”, he grinned, showing his pearly whites. “Well if you're ‘lookin for that trait in the rest of the girls here, I think you’d sadly be disappointed”, she smiled, gesturing to her “friends”. Tina and the other’s let out gasps. The newcomer shook his head, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “Well I guess I’ll see you and your senseless friends around then, huh?”, “I guess so”. He strutted to the school.

“You whore! Way to throw us under the bus like that”, Tina scowled, slapping (Y/N) on the shoulder. She only laughed, “Well, couldn’t lie to the guy now could I?”. Well wasn’t (Y/N) feeling pretty proud about herself right now? She could really be a sarcastic fuck sometimes, huh?

In a way, (Y/N) loved school. Her place made her feel validated, and she got pretty good grades. What was there not to love? As she was at her locker, her peachy attitude soon turned to discomfort. The happy squeals of Nancy could be heard from a few lockers away as Steve spun her around. She smiled at the couple, yet it still made her heart ache. (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Jonathan awkwardly walking away from them, passing by her. Steve looked at his girlfriend with sparkles in his eyes. He genuinely seemed joyful, and in a way she was happy for him. Still, that aching feeling was there, and at this point it seemed nothing could replace it.

Later that day, during art class (which was last period), she found out the new guy's name was Billy Hargrove. Fresh out from sunny California a week ago. She questioned why someone like him would choose art out of all things for his creative credit, but, maybe he’d surprise her. The class was filled with a very “out of the box”, group of people. They might’ve been (Y/N)’s favorite out of the student body. The art room was a space for open opinions, and creativity. Everyone was interesting in their own individual way, but somehow, Billy managed to stand out.

When he entered the class, everyone was already working on their current pieces. Mr. Axworthy, who insisted everyone called him “Mr. Ax”, had assigned a new project about a week ago. Every year he gave students an assignment to represent themselves, this year it was painting your favorite album cover. Though (Y/N) had many favorites, she chose The Clash’s “London Calling”, and was currently working on the shading. She was calmly sitting at her easel when she heard the teacher speak, “Mr. Hargrove! Pleasure to have you in our art class, there’s a free spot beside Mrs. Henderson, she’ll explain the current project to you!”. (Y/N) gave “Mr. Hargrove” a slight smile as he walked towards her.

“So, Henderson, huh? Got a first name?”, he questioned, showing that cocky smirk. “It’s, (Y/N), yours?”, “Billy. Billy Hargrove”. Now she knew his name- and it somehow added to his intoxicating aura. Call it fascination- but, Billy’s presence overwhelmed her in a way, and she didn’t even know him that well! It’s not like her feelings for Steve disappeared, just anytime those shimmering blue eyes glanced her way, her heart raced. Maybe Billy was the void waiting to fill that aching feeling, and she just hadn’t realized it yet. Everyone was telling her to move on, that it wasn’t worth it, but- to her, Steve was worth it. The one thing that wasn’t worth it though, was chasing a dream that wasn’t going to come true.

As (Y/N) was explaining the project to Billy, she was surprised by how attentive he was. If he could get excited about one thing, it was music. “So how are your art skills?”, she asked, “A little rusty, but nothing you can’t show me”, he grinned, taking one of his paint brushes and dipping it into some red paint. (Y/N) thought he’d go for the canvas, but he surprisingly smeared the paint onto her cheeks. She stared at him in shock- “Wha-what the hell did you do that for?!”, she exclaimed. “Just thought I could add to the flush on your cheeks!”, he laughed, of course he’d notice her blushing. Two could play at this game. “Well, you know what I think your face could use?”, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”, “Some green!”, she shouted, painting a big green line on his face. Before their paint war could continue, Mr. Axworthy had noticed.

“I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t the paint go on your canvas?”, he motioned to our easels. “Well of course Mr. Ax, but when it comes to the concept of art, isn’t everything a canvas?” she giggled, leaving Mr. Axworthy speechless. “Well, yes- but I’d prefer you’d not interrupt the class and actually help Billy start his project”, he states. “Definitely, he had just finished telling me he wanted to do Metallica’s ‘Kill ‘em All, isn’t that correct, Mr. Hargrove?”, “Yes that is correct!”. “Well then, carry on, you can wash the paint off your faces at the end of class”.

By the time class finished, Billy had at least finished the base coat of his painting whilst (Y/N) had time to finish her shading. Now, they needed to step into the halls with paint all over their faces-how embarrassing. It was as if Mr. Axworthy wanted them to be publicly humiliated! In a way, (Y/N) didn’t blame him, it was a good form of punishment. When the pair walked the halls, they received awkward glances. Billy simply rolled his eyes, who were they to judge him? He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile, “Let them stare, I know you got rep around this joint, they have no reason to give you dirty looks, aight?”. It was nice to have reassurance from Billy, but from getting to know him, he generally had that ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’. She wasn’t worried about the paint. She was worried what people would think if they saw her, the girl who had been pining for Steve forever, under another guy's arms. The new hotshot nonetheless.

Luckily Billy was called over by Tommy, of course he had already been recruited by that group. Despite her very much fun art class with him, she was feeling uneasy with all the looks she was getting from people, and to make matters worse, Steve was standing at her locker. He waved her over with a smile, to which she headed over to him.

“Hey Stevie”, she beamed at him. Damn she still couldn’t resist that adorable face. “Hiya (Y/N/N), saw you walking with ‘Hargrove”, he smirked. “Oh yeah, that- we just have art together, nothing big”, she blushed, I guess Billy really was getting to her. “That explains the paint on your cheeks?”, he pointed at the red coated on her face. “Just a small mishap I guess”, she chuckled. “So what brings Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington to my locker?” she inquired. “Just wanted to see my bestie, it’s been a while”, he smiled softly, poking her side. It really had been a while, (Y/N) really couldn’t remember the last time Steve looked at her happily. It gave her a sense of comfort to see him so cheerful. “It really has- I’d hate to cut this short, but I really have to get some errands done, but I’ll see you at the party tomorrow?”, “Definitely! I’ll see you then”, he bid her goodbye, kissing her on the cheek. Her hands grazed her cheek, touching where he just kissed. “Oh and Henderson! Let’s hangout sometime, yeah?”, he shouted to her, “That’d be great!”.

Before heading to the parking lot, she stopped at the bathroom to wash the paint off. She checked to see if anyone was there, luckily there wasn’t. The girl really didn’t need anymore dirty looks. She grabbed some paper towels, running them under warm water. While she whipped the paper towel over her face, she took the time to look at herself. What was she doing? Was she really going to let Steve slip away that easily? Billy had just entered her life, and had obviously taken an interest in her. What was the risk of jumping into things too quickly? She couldn’t wait forever. That’s when she decided. (Y/N) was going to allow herself to get lost in the new overwhelming feeling of Billy Hargrove.

(Y/N) drove down the quiet back roads of Hawkins, making her way to the liquor store. If the town wasn’t sketchy enough, having the liquor store away from civilization made it even sketchier. She really didn’t like coming here, the last time (Y/N) came here was for another one of Tina’s parties. It was for the end of the summer, at Lover’s Lake. It was quite the blowout, till Hopper came to shut it down. Fortunately she didn’t get caught that night, her mother would’ve killed her, and she wasn’t about to spend the night in jail.

Now, (Y/N) wanted to give the cashier an offer he couldn’t refuse. The process was simple, bat her eyelashes, show plenty of cleavage, talk innocently, and then figure out how to put two fucking kegs in the side car of her motorcycle! She glanced down at the outfit she was wearing, a simple low-cut red t-shirt with some high rise acid wash jeans, and a leather jacket. The leather jacket could go. She strutted to the counter of the store, knowing they held the kegs in the back storage, it was time to turn on the charm. Borris, the regular cashier, was in his late 60’s, and she absolutely hated the way he looked at her. It made her feel grose, but she wasn’t about to let Tina down.

Boris contentedly stared her down, obviously checking her out. On the inside, she shivered, but she kept on a smile. “Anything I can do for you pretty lady?”, he asked, grinning. “Yes, I was wondering if you can hook me up with a few kegs? ‘You see I got this party tomorrow, up in Indianapolis! It’s a big college thing, ‘can’t have a good time without alcohol”, that oughta convince him. “Sure thing sweets, I’ll grab some for you, how many shall it be?”. He didn’t even ask her for her ID! “Two will be just fine! Thank you so much!”. He brought them up to the counter, shit those look heavy, she thought. “How much does it come to?”, (Y/N) asked. “Oh, on the house, anything for a pretty girl looking to have a good time”, score! He almost offered to help bring them out- till a familiar voice cut in.

“It’s no problem Boris, I’ll help her out, just grab me a pack of cigs mhm?”, Billy Hargrove, of course. “Your usual William?”, questioned Boris. “That’ll be just fine”. (Y/N) was stunned. Did it just happen to be a coincidence that he walked through the door? More like a sign. He took hold of one of the kegs, while she grabbed the other. They both headed outside.

“Stalking me, Hargrove?”, she smirked. “Absolutely not! I just happened to need more cigarettes, and I noticed a familiar Harley Davidson, don’t flatter yourself”, he placed the keg down, lighting a cigarette. “Sure...and you deliberately wanted to help me with the kegs?”, “The guys a creep! I’m sure you didn’t want to be around him any longer”, he huffed, blowing smoke from his lips. “Aww, you protecting me Hargrove? That’s cute!”, she giggled.

Even though Billy hated to admit it, he loved when she laughed. She ignited this glow that was hard to describe- though, it made him feel warm. It made him feel good. When he arrived here, his goal was to sleep with nearly every girl who made eyes at him, he’d make a list, and then he’d check it off one by one. That all changed when he saw her. She was different, she had this spark that came with her quick wit that left him wanting more. Was he going to tell her that? No, not yet, but it seems his “friendship” with her was growing quicker than he expected.

“I’m not protecting you..just-shut up”, why was he getting so flustered? This was so unlike him. “Whatever Hargrove, just help me load these into my sidecar will yah?”, she struggled to hold the keg. “Sweetheart, are you sure those will fit in there?’, he questions, looking at her struggling. “You got any better ideas?”, she groaned impatiently. In fact- Hargrove did have an idea, whether she’d agree, he really didn’t know.

“Here me out- you and I both know those aren’t going to hold in there, and I know why you need them, so why don’t I stash them in the Camaro, and you and I can go to the party together?”, he offered, waiting eagerly for her response. She hesitantly looked down at the kegs, and then back up at him. “Billy- are you sure? I don’t want you going through all that trouble, what if your parent’s found them?”, she questioned worriedly, biting her lip. “My parents won’t notice a damn thing, if they even touch my car- it’s their dead body on my hands”, he laughed, though she could see his shoulders tense up, the question had obviously bothered him. “Well alright then...let’s load them into your trunk”.

Once the kegs were in, Billy closed his car trunk tightly. Smiling at (Y/N) he took another puff of his cigarette, leaning against the back of his car. “So what are you going as?”, he wondered, staring at her. (Y/N) had spaced out, not really getting what he meant. “What do you mean?”, she asked. “For the Halloween party, what’s your costume?”, “Oh! I'm going as Sarah Connor from the new Terminator movie?”, she explained, wondering if he’d heard of it. “Nice, I was told that movie was supposed to be good”. Why did this conversation feel so awkward? “It really was, I went to go see it with my little brother”, she grinned.

“You got a little sibling- me too, well step sister, but that doesn’t matter”, he muttered the last bit, inhaling more of his cigarette. “Do you two get along?”, she questioned, “No-not really-just, can we change the subject?!”, he raised his voice slightly, startling her a bit. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to pry- I should go-”, she whispered, heading back to her motorcycle. (Y/N) turned on her heel, flinching when she felt Billy take a slight hold on her wrist. “Wait- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to startle you”, his words were shaky, as he kept his grip on her wrist. She slipped his hand off her wrist, staring at him blankly. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to say at this moment. “It’s just- when I moved here, I wanted to start fresh and the idea of my family just-it makes it hard”, he says sharply. “I just don’t like talking about it”.

(Y/N) nodded her head slightly, she didn’t really know what Billy went through when he moved to Hawkins, and whatever it was, seemed to trigger him. In a way, (Y/N) knew what it felt like. She and her family moved to Indiana in 1979, when she just started middle school. It was hard to adjust, and Hawkins was a lot different from her last home. They left because her father had walked out on them. Though it was traumatic, it wasn’t like he was a very good dad. He’d come home late from work, usually drunk and angry. (Y/N) still had scars from when he beat her. It made her insides twitch, shivering at the thought of the still present stitches on her back. The night she got them, her father had been particularly cheesed off, luckily her mom and Dustin weren’t home. Her mother was having a well deserved ‘ladies night’ while her brother was at a sleepover.

The night started off calmly, (Y/N) had been contently listening to records in her room while her father was watching football down the hall. She knew he had been drinking, she never saw him without alcohol in his hands. That’s why she didn’t drink that much, she’d hate to turn out like him. Her door was locked, to make sure he wouldn’t come in. She cringed when she heard glass shatter in the other room, footsteps slowly approaching her door. She hopped out of her bed, muttering ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’, under her breath. At this point she had gotten scared. Her dad knocked harshly on her door, “(Y/N), you better fucking open this door, or I’ll knock it down myself”- he yelled, voice booming. That’s when she realized. I’ll go out the window. (Y/N) quietly opened the window latch, slipping through the frame. Luckily her house was only one story, so there was no risk of falling.

She thought she had been safe, till her father noticed she escaped from the window. (Y/N) barely had a chance to leave the driveway till her father spotted her, tackling her to the ground. Her chest hit the cold pavement, groaning in pain as her father pinned her wrists to the asphalt. Not getting a chance to notice the kitchen knife in his left hand, he unexpectedly slashed the blade against her back. She wailed as the knife dented her skin, begging for her dad to stop as tears filled her eyes. By chance her mother had entered the driveway before her father could do anymore damage. (Y/N) never understood why her mom didn’t call 9-1-1, just simply drove her to the hospital to get stitches. It was probably out of fear, and it was only a few nights after the incident that he disappeared. When Dustin found out what happened, even with only being eight years old at the time, she swore he was ready to kill him.

When she stared back at him, she had a sympathetic look in her eyes. “It’s okay B, just- if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here”. He smiled slightly at the small nickname, looking at her softly, “Thanks, no one’s really offered that before”. He scratched his neck nervously, lighting out his cigarette. “Hug it out?”, she extended her arms out cheekily. Hug it out? Billy Hargrove didn’t hug it out- but she seemed so sincere- he pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t resist smelling her hair, it smelled almost tropical- like the salty scent of the ocean breeze that reminded him of home. For the first time, Billy felt at peace in this new town. He knew that if she stocked around, he could bring himself to be happy, and as luck would have it, she was planning to.

Next Chapter: smile-in-the-face-of-tragedy

Authors Note: The time has come and the first chapter is here! I hope you guys enjoyed, feedback is greatly appreciated 😊! If anyone else wants to be in the tag-list, feel free to comment below!

Tag-list: @holychocopie

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Cookies

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle) Pairing: N/A Warnings: It’s so fluffy! Pure Absolute Christmas Fluff! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I just wrote multiple pages of Sy being an absolute marshamallow, with his nieces and nephews. It’s as sweet as Maple Syrup! Enjoy.

Henry Cavill Master List

“You're sure that it's okay if the kids come over?” The concern for her brother didn't go unnoticed, the blue eyes they shared were locked on his face as if she didn't believe him, when he had given the green light.

He looked ridiculous in the white and red ugly Christmas sweater. The knit garment depicting Santa on a beach. Leave it to Sy. Aimee had lost it laughing a few weeks ago, when her brother had called to tell her that he'd got ugly Christmas sweaters for his nieces and nephews, too.

A smirk curled his lips under the thick beard that had been growing on his face for the last ten or twelve years. Running a hand over his grown out hair, her little brother laughed. “Yes, Aim. I am sure. I wouldn't have told them to come, if I didn't want them here. Go on, we're fine. I am sure Mike will appreciate the night off.”

Early this morning, Sy had been woke to his phone ringing on the night stand beside his head. Stupidly loud, the phone screamed at him, begging him to answer. After the fourth ring, it was clear that the person on the other end was not giving in. Despite the headache and heartache from hell, he reached over and answered.

On the other end, his youngest niece greeted her hung over Uncle. “Uncle Sy, I want to come stay with you tonight. Mommy said that I can't invite myself over, but I want to see you. Please say yes.”

“Morning Wispy,” Sy muttered sitting up, rubbing his hand over his face. “Uncle Sy is a bit hazy this morning, I'm gonna need ya to repeat that. Slowly.” He shook his head and chuckled at his niece.

Repeating her request, Willow waited for her uncle to give her the all clear. She was his favourite person, after all, he would never tell her no.

“Sure can bub. Let me talk to your ma, please. And Wispy, I love ya bug.”

Taking the phone from her over excited daughter, Aimee greeted her brother. Her first round of questions assaulting the youngest Syverson.

“Four kids, are you really sure?” Aimee raised her brow looking at her brother. “I can't believe we let Willow talk you into this. I had no idea she was calling you until she came in with the phone. Apparently she and Harley had planned this yesterday.”

“Whatever. I'm cool with it. I didn't have much to do anyway. Probably spend another night down at The Hole.” Sy shrugged. His favourite dive bar had become his temporary home, since his girlfriend of five years had decided she wanted more than a cranky Army vet to share her life with.

Willow had heard her parents discussing Sy's break up, when she coerced her cousin Harley into the plan for a weekend with their uncle. Uncle Sy was her favourite person in the whole wide world, they even shared a birthday, and Uncle Sy was the most fun! He would often let Willow paint his nails and decorate his beard. Why wouldn't that silly woman want him? Willow had grumbled about her “Aunty Nina” being a bit meany who probably ate boogers for breakfast.

“If you think you are okay with this, fine.” Aimee laughed peeking around her brother into his house to see her two children, plus niece and nephew running around his kitchen like four wild beasts. “But if you need help...”

“I will call in the Army.” Sy's laugh rumbled. “I'm kidding. If we need you, then we will call.” He leaned in giving her a kiss on the cheek, straightening up he called to the kids. “Come say good bye to your ma and aunt.”

Children thundered to the door, rushing Aimee and Sy. Hugs and “I love yous” exchanged as Aimee gave her brother one last out for the weekend. Raising his hand to wave her off, Sy wore the biggest, goofiest smile. She'd behaved like he had never had all four children on his own before. Hell during his Army days he had been responsible for a lot more bodies than four. All had made it home, too. Most on their own accord, but he wasn't going to relive those memories right now. Those were the sort of things he thought about when he was alone in the dark. This weekend was going to be anything but dark.

With only a short span of time to plan, Sy did his best to get a few activities together for the children of various ages. Ben, 12; Annie, 10; Harley 7; and Willow, 6.

Ben had likely only agreed to his sister's impromptu weekend because it was better than staying home with his parents. Besides, he loved hanging out with his Uncle, even if it meant three other children tagging along.

“Okay, listen up.” Sy clapped his hands together, grabbing attention. He bent to gently scratch behind the ears of his beloved shepherd. “You know where your bedrooms are, go take your stuff up. Then meet me back here for our first item on the list.”

Lagging behind her brother and cousins, Willow bounced over to Sy hugging her arms around him as tightly as she could. “Do I have to share a bed with Annie? She kicks me.”

“She kicks you?” Sy stooped to scoop her up in his arms. Her dark curls tied back in pig tails, gently he tugged at the end of one. “Well then good thing I got them pillows you asked for.”

“The really big ones? With the pink sparkle unicorns.” Willow's eyes went wide as she gasped. Sy nodded and laughed. Vibrating with excitement she hugged her uncle's neck tight kissing his cheek. “I want to make a fort in the bed and then Annie has to stay on her side. But it's okay, because we can still share the blanket and my night light.”

“Is that so? Well, you best go tell her that. The others will be back down before you get up there, hurry up.” Sy let her down. “If you need some help, ask Annie. Okay, Wispy?”

“Okay.” She shouted, little legs carrying her to the stairs. Thumping and running through the house, Sy smiled and went to the kitchen to begin planning phase one of their weekend.

With Christmas right around the corner, he had broke down and dug out a few early Christmas Eve gifts. Since it was Syverson tradition to spend Christmas Eve with his momma and daddy, decorating and what not, he was in charge of supplying the kids with gingerbread houses and cookies to decorate. Momma would forgive him, if he told her that the houses were done early this year. If she was adamant about it, he could buy a few more for Christmas.

Pulling out the kits, Sy laughed when Ben trudged into the kitchen. Clearly the kids had gotten the message when they found sweaters laid out on the beds. In a blue and green sweater with penguins at a disco on the front, the twelve year old rolled his eyes before laughing.

“It suits ya.” Sy laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love us or secretly hate us.” Ben laughed along with his uncle. Laughing harder when Harley strode in wearing his green and red sweater, two reindeer on the front throwing snowballs.

“I think you secretly love it.” Sy nudged Harley with his elbow. “Should have gone bigger, huh?”

Harley nodded, the arms of his sweater a little too short. “Do I have to wear it long?”

“Nah,” Shaking his head, Sy pointed to the gingerbread house kits. “Long enough to get a photo for Nana and your momma.”

Giggling, Annie and Willow rushed into the kitchen. Purple and pink ugly sweaters worn with pride. Annie stood straight to show her uncle how well the new shirt fit. Purple decorated with dancing snowmen in a ballerina scene, a nod to Annie's love for dancing. And of course Willow, in her pink sweater with cats in Santa hats with red and green mittens.

“I love it, uncle Sy!” Willow exclaimed jumping up and down. “We look very pretty.”

“We look something.” Her big brother snickered.

“Are those gingerbread houses?” Annie eyed the items on the counter suspiciously. Sy nodded and grinned. “Nana is going to be mad at youuuuuu.” She sang out.

“Well this year, Nana is fine with us decorating early. We can get more for Christmas Eve.”

“We better!” Harley exclaimed wide eyed. “Santa will be upset. He always gets a gingerbread house and he eats it all!”

The tradition of leaving a whole house for Santa had began when Sy was a little boy. Perhaps even before, Aimee and Will had left houses surely before he was born. Over the years Santa had devoured a lot of houses at the Syverson's. He'd even had a few to eat while Sy was over in the desert, serving his country. His momma, without fail, had managed to get him a kit or two. Sy would set them up and let the other soldiers have their fill before sending photos to the kids back home to tell them Santa had came by.

“You know that Santa isn't...” “Going to be upset, because he will still get Nana's homemade cookies.” Ben cut in glaring at Annie. This was her first year on the “Santa isn't real wagon”, but Ben wasn't going to let her ruin that for Harley and Willow.

Nodding and giving Ben a subtle thumbs up, Sy picked up to defuse the tension. “Right, he's still going to get lots of treats. And I don't know that I'd want a boring store made gingerbread, if I could have my momma's homemade shortbread and peanut butter blossoms.” He clicked his teeth together and made a show of rubbing his hand across his stomach.

“Uncle Sy, do you think Santa ever takes cookies home for the elves and Mrs. Claus?” Harley stared up at his uncle, his face scrunched at the thought.

“Sure does, bud. I bet he takes one cookie from every house home to share.” Sy winked at his youngest nephew.

Pulling out the hard as rock cookie house pieces, Sy instructed Ben to get the candies from the counter that he'd set out for the purpose of making these a grand master piece. Even The Grinch would appreciate the work that went into a Syverson House.

“So, what's everyone been up to? I feel like I've hardly seen y'all lately.”

If he asked the kids to talk about themselves, it meant that Sy would have to talk less. He loved hearing what the kids had to say. They chattered and laughed, Annie and Harley bickered a little over who got to put the door on the first house. A squabble ended when Sy reached in, putting the pretzel door on the house himself.

Lost in their good cheer, Christmas songs, and general chaos of four children with limited rules – for the time being – Sy sighed and began to relax. Something he hadn't done since Nina had decided to pack up her things and leave him nearly two weeks ago.

Whatever. Five years wasted. If she had known that she didn't want to be with him, then why had she stayed? His brother had a few ideas about that, stating that it was the perfect opportunity for any gold digging – Sy wouldn't even repeat the word to himself. Living in a house that was paid off. A car that was hers. Never having to pay bills, it all allowed her to work and save while she decided one day she'd had enough and wanted something better.

Better. More money.

Well, whoever took her next, Sy wished them luck. He hated that he was so broken about this. But he'd loved her. Maybe. He had his doubts these last few nights, as he sat thinking over a pint or eight at the bar.

“Uncle Sy,” Willow's soft voice broke his thoughts. Glancing down at his niece, he smiled. “When we finish, can we make cookies?”

“What if we make some cookies tomorrow, Wispy?” Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Sy bent to scoop her into his arms. “We can make some sugar cookies to decorate. I also thought I could make ya some snow crackles that you love so much.” he nudged cheek her with his nose.

“The gooey chocolate ones?” Her eyes were wide. Sy nodded. “Benny!” She turned, calling excitedly to her brother who was less than four feet away. “Uncle Sy is going to make us those crack cookies!”

“Crackle.” Sy gently corrected her with a deep laugh.

Sy's snow crackles were always a welcomed hit. Family, friends, even the post man loved the damn things. Hell if he'd had those over in the desert to hand out, the war could have been over in an hour. Or so a few of his superiors had always teased him.

“Can we make them with the candy cane?” Harley asked wiggling in his seat.

“Absolutely!” Sy agreed with a wide smile. A touch of peppermint in the cookies were the perfect Christmas treat. Even better when enjoyed with a nice cup of rum and homemade egg nog. Although he would save that for the adult parties.

“I love Christmas!” A giggling Annie exclaimed, not going unnoticed that she and Ben were enjoying the left over icing for the houses. A tube each, the two older kids were trying to be stealthy about their activities. Nice try Sy thought, they knew nothing got by their Uncle.

“My favourite holiday is my birthday.” Willow declared.

“That's not a holiday.” Ben laughed at his sister, shaking his head.

“Yes it is! It's a holiday, because it celebrates me and Uncle Sy. Right, Uncle Sy? It's a holiday?” Willow pouted at her uncle, hoping for some back up. If Uncle Sy said it was, then it was true.

“I think birthdays are kind of like holidays. We just don't get time off work or school.”

“See!” Willow stuck her tongue out at her brother Ignoring his sister, Ben had already moved on to something else.

“Okay you two, enough.” Sy let Willow down. “Let's get this mess cleaned and we can get some plans for dinner going.”

“Can we have ice cream?” Doing her best puppy dog eyes, Annie looked at her uncle.

“After we eat dinner.” Sy smiled kissing the top of her head.

“Candy cane ice cream?” Harley was hopeful. Sy had never met a kid, or anybody, who loved candy canes as much as his nephew.

“I have some candy cane. I also have chocolate and pecan. Something for everyone.”

“And grape nut for you?” Wrinkling her nose, Willow shivered in disgust. Ice cream was one of the only things she didn't agree with her Uncle on.

“Yes, grape nut for me.”

“You're such an old man.” Ben added gently tossing a candy piece at his uncle's head. Nailing Sy in the side of the cheek, Ben laughed and threw up his hands in victory.

“Oh is that how you want this?” Sy picked up a few candies, launching them back at his nephew. Nailing Ben with four our of five, Sy straightened himself up. “Still got it.”

Gingerbread construction cleaned, photos taken, Sy announced that the children were free of their ugly sweaters. Rushing upstairs to change, shouts and laughter filled the house. Sy, comfortable in his sweater, worked out the decision for dinner. Ordering pizza seemed like the clear winner and nobody would complain.

Four pizzas later, enough variety that everybody had something they liked, Sy announced it was time to settle for a bit and watch some movies. Who could resist? Pizza, as promised ice cream, and various snacks that he always had on hand for the kids. It was the perfect way to spend an evening getting over a break up.

Sprawled out around the den, the kids got comfortable. Blankets and cushions all over. Sy resting on the leather sectional, Willow curled up on his lap – of course. A bowl of candy between them and Harley, who laid stretched out. Annie and Ben occupied a bean bag each, blankets pulled up around them while the decided upon “Miracle on 34th Street” played on the screen.

Dozing on and off, Sy didn't know when it had happened, but at some point the movie had come to an end the dvd menu replaying over and over. A soft whine of his beloved shepherd is what roused him this morning. Scratching his nose and sitting up, Sy scrambled to grab Willow before she slid off of his knee. Around him the kids were asleep, the house quiet and his watch informing him it was nearly dawn.

Gently sliding Willow into his spot on the couch, Sy stood and raised his arms, joints popping and his body waking. Tiptoeing out of the den and to the kitchen, Sy opened the back door letting the dog out. Rubbing his eyes, he watched the dog zoom around, before debating coffee or going back to bed. The kids would sleep another hour or two at least, which would be nice to sleep as well. Coffee won, brewing a fresh pot Sy looked around the kitchen.

His house still, the presence of the kids not going unnoticed, it felt nice to have someone else in the house. The bodies moving and bringing merriment. A kick to the gut, really. Nina having told him that part of her leaving was because she wanted children and he didn't. He loved his nieces and nephews, but full time parenting wasn't a project he was cut out for. Sy sniffled, fuck it. Shaking his head, he grumbled under his breath. She and her notions were gone now.

Opening the back door, he let the dog in. Giving a morning scratch and cooing to his faithful friend. Coffee filled the house with a delicious aroma, Sy poured his first cup and sat at the table watching the backyard. Once this coffee was gone he would get to work on his crackle cookies, they would need to freeze before baking. Tiny, nearly silent foot steps caught his attention. Willow hummed softly as she walked, her momma always told her that it wasn't polite to sneak up on people. Especially Uncle Sy. No matter how much he loved her, sneaking up could scare him and Willow didn't want that.

Sy hated the thoughts of his family feeling like they may not be safe in his presence. But he appreciated her attempt to let him know she was awake and moving around.

“Morning Wispy.” Sy's voice was steady and quiet. Willow giggled lightly. She loved that he knew it was her, without having to look. “Come here.” Sy held out an arm. Willow rushed her last few steps. “Have a good sleep?”

“Uh huh,” she rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Morning, Uncle Sy. Did you sleep good?”

“I did,” he nodded taking a sip of his coffee and pushing out his chair. “Have a seat, Miss Henning.”

Climbing into the kitchen chair, Willow sat quietly.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” Willow yawned and nodded. “But no coffee, it's yuck and daddy says I'm too little.”

“Your daddy has the right idea,” Sy smiled fondly, pulling out the cocoa mix and Willow's favourite mug. A big mug with a photo of her and Sy's old dog Aika.

“Uncle Sy, are you happy that I came over and brought my brother, Harley, and Anna?”

“Of course, Wispy.”

“Good, because I think you were sad but I didn't want you to be sad. I told my momma that we would make you happy if we came over. I think I was right.” she beamed through tired eyes.

“Wspy, bug, nothing could ever make me happier than you kids.” Scooping the cocoa into the mug, pouring cold milk until the was half full to save it from getting too hot.

“Not even if you had your own kids? Do you think you'll get married and have kids? Momma said...”

“Wispy,” Sy held up a hand to stop the unintentional prying. It was too early. “I will always love you. You're my best gal, yeah? All you need to know, bug, is that I will love you forever.”

“Do you love me more than Christmas cookies?”

“Well,” pausing for effect, Sy took a beat to pretend he was thinking, “I do love Christmas cookies. But yeah, I suppose I love you more than Christmas cookies, even.”

“Good, because I love you more than Christmas cookies, birthday cake, anddd Nana's biscuits.” the little girl wiggled in her seat, giggling.

“More than Nana's biscuits? Oh boy, that is some loving.” Stirring the hot cocoa, Sy lifted the mug and placed it on the table in front of his niece. A can of whipped cream in hand, he shook it before adding more than required to the top of her mug. Sitting down, he glanced at his coffee and shrugged, the hiss of the can when he added a dollop to his coffee. “Cheers,”

“Cheers!” Willow slid her mug a few centimeters to clink it against Sy's.

#captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson #henry cavill #captain syverson imagine #captain syverson fluff #christmas fic #captain syverson sand castle #henry cavill fluff

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