#back have been in fucking wretches states so its hard for me to do much

[rudeboimonster]

~help your local rat get stable housing~

edit post nov 2023: I GOT THE HELP I NEEDED THANK YOU SOSOOSO MUCH

dramatically sprawled out on the floor

so i gotta move for the third time in that many years. unfortunately between health problems and the General State of The Economy, I have been unable to find work to be able to save any money. i have no choice but to leave the entire state. i thankfully have somewhere to go, however I need help getting there. i've been trying to do the math to get what I need to its lowest amount possible, but even that is still at least $2.5k.

after this move, i should be able to get things more stable and I might even have a couple job prospects lined up in that area, but right now I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel funds wise and desperately need help.

if you're able to spare anything, i've set up a goal through kofi so i can track it publicly. i have trouble asking for help but i really need what help i can get. thank you, so so so much.

[arthurmorgansclitorous]

Some Charles x GN reader angst or fluff would litteraly make me explode 🙏🙏🙏

(What about both?? 🤠)

Its been a few weeks since you've joined the gang, and you've settled in pretty well. You seem to get along with everyone, especially Charles. You both like to just enjoy each others company. So, you walk over to the campfire and sit down beside Charles. He mumbles a hello and you smile at him before looking away.

As you enjoy listening to the sounds of nature, the owls hooting, the soft wind blowing through the trees, the muffled crunches of leaves over Javier's guitar. You look over to Charles. "What are you doing?" You ask him with a curious look on your face. Charles looks up at you and says, " I'm making some arrows, I'm going hunting tomorrow." You nod your head and turn back to the fire, happy in the moment. That is, until Micah makes his way over to the fire. He's been a pain in the ass ever since you met him last week. Every time you see his wretched face you wish Arthur never broke him out.

"Micah." You speak quietly, greeting him. "Y/N." Micah grins at you and you sigh. Everyone knows that face he does as his mind is coming up with a stupid comment to make. And no doubt, he does. "Heard about that mission earlier." He chuckles. You sigh and put more sticks into the fire. "Can't even call it a mission cause how bad you messed it up!" Micah's laugh makes your blood boil. "Dunno why Dutch bothers to keep you 'round. Your useless." He laughs and drinks from his beer bottle. You roll you eyes and take a deep breath. He's not wrong though, that's the worst thing about his stupid comment. He was right, you basically are useless to the gang. Any mission you go on you always mess up, whether it be a simple con mission with Hosea or a stagecoach robbery.

You look over to Micah and see him ready to make his next comment. You don't have the energy to deal with his shit today. You already feel horrible about fucking up the mission earlier that day. You stand up and quickly walk away. As you do, you hear his evil laugh echo through camp. You walk into the forest, your knuckles white from how hard your squeezing them and sit down by a tree.

"you're useless." Those two words Micah said repeat in your head over and over. Why was he right? Micah's never right? You know that he just said that to get a rise out of you, but as hard as you tried to not let it get to you, you failed. You put your knees up and put your head in them, crying. "You're useless" he was right. You are useless. You cry as you think about the day, you messing up the mission, the embarrassment of it. Micah making comments, everyone in camp staring at you all day. It was just too much. You break down and start sobbing in your knees.

You hear grass crunching and your head shoots up as you quickly wipe away the tears running down your face. You slow down your breath and wait for whoever it is to see you. It's most likely Micah coming over to pick at you even more.

To your suprise, it's not Micah. It's Charles. He walks up to you and sits down. "You alright?" He asks you. His voice is so...pretty. it's so calming. So perfect. You nod your head, embarrassed that he's seen you in this state.

"y/N, don't let Micah get to you, nothing but shit comes out his mouth." Charles tells you. You sigh and look at Charles. "I know, just some of the things he says...hurt." you say, looking away. "He was right, what he said. I am useless."

Charles looks at you confused. "You don't really think that?" He asks as he looks at camp, sighing. "Well yeah. I fuck up just about every mission I go on, and I'm useless in camp with chores." You hug your knees and try your best not to cry.

"y/n, your not useless, you one of the best people I know." Charles says as he moves close to you. You look at him and let out a small giggle. "Charles shut up, have you not seen yourself? You're strong, your smart, your kind, your badass. I'm nothing compared to you." You say as you put your hands on the ground. Charles looks at you and sighs. "Y/n, your all of those things and more." He says in that monotone voice. You don't know why, but his voice has always brough you comfort. For the short time you've known him if you've ever been stressed or had a bad day just his presence, the small conversations you have with him bring you so much comfort, a type you've never felt before. Charles puts his hand on top of yours and you look at him. It's right then, that exact moment that you realise why he brings you such joy. You love him.

You start to cry again. Charles has been one of the first people to say something so kind about you. You don't know how to react. You don't know what to do, you love him. He looks at you and smiles before kissing you on the cheek. "Fuck micah, your perfect y/n" he leans in closer and puts his shoulder over you. He pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. You look at Charles and kiss him on the lips. Your heart starts to pound as your mind processes what you've just done. You pull back and look away. "I'm sorry." You say awkwardly but before you can explain yourself Charles pulls you in and kisses you back. "Don't be." He says and you kiss him back. He pulls back and smiles at you. "Don't let anyone tell you any different y/n. Your perfect." He whispers to you as you lie on his chest. He lays on of his arms on you. His warmth instantly relaxing you. He hold your hand and runs the back of your hand with his thumb. That small gesture, so romantic. Charles plays with your hair softly and you fall into his warm body. You slowly fall asleep.

When you wake up you open your eyes to see Charles still asleep. His hair falling over his shoulders gracefully. You slowly get up and sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder and hold his hand. 'It wasn't a dream' you think to yourself and smile as you sit there, admiring everything about him

[shopboughtchaos]

Don't mind me, just using the space to throw up a little side project/character study for an OC who's being an awkward git and also for some accountability. Anyway, it's become a chapter story now somehow - so here's chapter one! (Set in England in 1943 - I haven't history rabbitholed this (yet), I'm running on pure vibes for this one; M/M romance - nothing explicit (yet?). CW: c/PTSD and related concerns (checking for self-harming tendancies, nightmares, etc) unapologietic swearing) ***

It made no sense at all if Roberts stopped to think about it, how the same sun looked so different going down over German trees, and English. English trees were… thinner, somehow. Pulled apart from their brethren and forced to stand alone against anything the world had to throw at them. German trees grew close, limbs tangled together as though no force of God or man could tear them apart - an impressive show of force in defiance of the march of time, remaining a place of ancient wild-land that made stories of witches and other monsters far more believable than the children’s stories of quaint fair-folk England had been left with. England’s sparse nature had no threat - no bears, no wolves, no soldiers; no coverage thick enough to shield them. Perhaps that was the difference. Forced to grow so far apart, English trees were harder to abuse, and harder to rely on. Dear God, even the trees had stiff upper lips, each tree for himself. No wonder there were so few left, in comparison. Easier to pick off, just like men who had to stand alone, exposed to the world. Nothing wild left. At least these trees on the Camberly estate were doing their best to look old and impressive, as though they still held a little Old Magic somewhere, as forests should; and the same neutral sun that had made German trees seem otherworldly did its best to bathe these ones in the same golden light before night and all its dangers crept over the land. Before all the things the darkness held woke up and chased Rogers down again. This was why it was better not to stop and think about things at all. Doing that was why Roberts was here in this nowhere part of the country; stopping to think let all the devils in his mind loose. Stopping to think past sunset brought back the memories of that same indifferent golden light behind enemy lines heralding the end of the last day he could safely say he’d held on to his sanity.

In a way, Roberts was lucky. The doctors had hope he would find it again. He’d already been miraculously extracted from German territory and brought back to English shores, what was one more miracle of recovery on top of that? And they believed he was the delusional one. Like fuck was God handing out miracles these days. It hadn’t been a miracle that landed him here, and it wouldn’t be a miracle that declared him sane enough to be shipped back to Hell to face what was under those united German trees, basking in that uncaring sun that shone as if every part of the world was the same. As if every wretched creature under its light deserved such brightness. Perhaps the burning was the point, in which case - it did not burn hard enough to wipe the worst away. Yes, they were all full of folly and fools hopes, but at least they hadn’t shot him at dawn, as they had for his father’s generation. Some days, when the darkness was too much to overcome, he had to wonder if that wouldn’t have been less humiliating than being ferried from hospital to hospital until he’d been shunted to Camberly House in Briarwell with its God-forsaken forest crowned with God-forsaken summer sunlight. That was unfair, it wasn’t an unpleasant place, this old stately home turned hospital for men like him. It was one of those houses where the age of it steeped into the very air, and the evenings brought a chill that was apparently common in these places, though it was still more tolerable than the barracks had been. And it wasn’t in the same ugly shades of grey and green as most military establishments - painted to match the concrete they’d been rapidly built from. Apparently the owner - a Mr. Bronsfeld-something-or-other had wanted the money the ministry of defence had offered for the use, but fought like stink to keep the army from interfering too much, which made it no use for tactical headquarters. Ergo, better to use it to shunt the unwanted broken soldier toys until they glued themselves back together.

At least Roberts was offered a modicum of privacy and independence. Most of the house was accessible, and the nurses had planned extensive walks in the manicured grounds to help the men’s physical health. Roberts didn’t much care for that, honesty. To himself, he’d stay in his room with a good book borrowed from the library, but the collection here was older than he dared to imagine, and his clumsy fingers would only destroy them the way they destroyed everything they touched. And the nurses got concerned when he decided instead to simply stay in his room for too many days. He did not like doing that to them. The men at Briarwell Rehabilitation were meant not to need the lingering presence of a nurse at all hours - though all the men knew they were there, in case the devils won. As such, there weren’t many nurses here. Most had been shipped in, like the Matron, more formidable in the care of her patients than the strictest commanders back at base, or the sweet, but overwhelmed, Nurse Bridget. They did ask for local women to come and help, but Briarwell was small, barely more than a village, and most of its women were bussed away at dawn to work the munitions factories and workshops in nearby towns, only arriving home after dark most days themselves. Or they were busy with the care of the city-folk’s evacuated children. Busy, hardworking, upstanding people in a good, upstanding part of the country but it did not offer much to a man trying to run from his own mind. What Roberts wouldn’t give for some proper entertainment to serve as a good distraction. Maybe he could approach the Matron about it, a good show. It wouldn’t be the same as the ones back at camp had been; the barracks had been chaotic, and an unexpected torment, but every good superior knew not to let frustrated young men get too out of hand before they’d even seen the enemy and so they’d allowed shows. The gunners, especially, had known how to really make a good time. They’d known all the pretty local girls to come sing and dance, and had no qualms about joining the ladies too, standing on stage in frocks and wigs for the laughs. The men had liked the ladies, sure - but there’d been a gunner, Arthur Ryan, who’d looked particularly convincing in his show get-up, and oh, the freedom that had given him and Roberts for a time even though they’d both know it would never last. Ryan was dead now, had been almost a year. Roberts didn’t know specifics. Better that way, really.

Better not to think on any of this stuff at all, but goddamn, it crept in around the edges. No, it wasn’t that insidious, that sneaky. It was blatant and tangled and sharp, like the wild dog-roses that grew around this Camberly House, scaling the walls almost to the lead-lined roof, as thick and verdant and encompassing as the best German trees - a true feel of the old world about them, somehow. They were in bloom at the moment, soft pinks and whites against the red brick of the House and the greens of their own woody stems. Jesus, somehow, it always came back to the damned trees. He’d only been lamenting how little there was for broken soldiers to do. Then again, the poor bastards he shared this sentence with might learn about the world in a way the Matron deemed improper - using the soldiers’ health as a means to keep them imprisoned here. Letters, few and far between as they were, were scanned and censored before the soldiers got to read of their homes, or of friends and brothers shot down and dead, or captured, or locked away in camps. Listening to the wireless was strictly controlled; hells, Nurse Bridget had to fight her own fear of Matron to even risk smuggling the men newspapers, always at least a week old. Matron did not want news to hinder the recovery of her patients by upsetting delicate nerves, as though they were prone to hysteria and in need of nothing more than smelling salts and a fainting couch. Three months a guest of Camberly House and the only way Roberts knew the war continued outside of the old walls was the air raid siren in Briarwell at the bottom of the hill that necessitated the rapid march to the bomb shelter to sit with the women and children, and the home-service men too old, or wounded, to fight. This far from anywhere important, raids weren’t as common as elsewhere, so Roberts still felt the sting of humiliation sitting with the locals, and he kept his head down, afraid to meet the eyes of the people he’d signed up to protect, now giving up their precious space to protect him instead.

That judgement would have kept him from visiting the village anyway, regardless of Matron’s embargo, even though Roberts longed to stretch his legs in places where he wouldn’t always be watched as though he planned to run off and cause himself trouble - trusting him to be an adult about returning to his comfortable prison, army-quality beds and blankets aside. Unable to explain his failures, his weaknesses to the people of Briarwell he indulged this need by turning the only resource he had in spades; time, into a game of sorts - what places around this Camberly House could he find where Matron would never think to look? Today it had led him to the roof. The lock on a set of balconette doors had been easy to jimmy open with a hairpin one of the nurses had dropped, and the pin of his belt buckle, and from there he’d managed to pull himself up and into a little recess in the roof, a perfect sitting spot, with warm tiles at his back, and a view over the land, and most importantly, freedom. Roberts had hoped he’d find the chance to see further than ground level would have gifted him some clarity. Instead, he’d been met with nothing more than the uncaring sun casting its twilight across the world - some things inevitable and unchanging. And in that same spirit of inevitability, with the dying light came the memories forcing their way in to more than one mind in this strange little compound. From somewhere deep in the house, Roberts could hear one of the other inmates begin to scream again - Vickers, from the sounds of it, Pertleigh’s were usually higher in pitch and interspersed with pleas for his mother, poor lad. Both of them poor men, really. Vickers in particular was dreadfully afflicted with screaming terrors in the dark hours that lasted most of the night. Roberts and the others had begged Nurse Bridget to save the corks from wine bottles or anything that they might fashion into ear plugs, some had torn into their blankets for strips and scraps to stuff their ears with, or their mouths when they felt their own demons approach.

Roberts didn’t scream. Maybe it would be better if he did, less embarrassing somehow. He didn’t know the cause of Vicker’s nightmares, and the man would rarely speak of them when he was lucid and present but he had been getting worse these last few weeks and he often grew frustrated when it transpired that none of the other men could see the shadowy menace he claimed tormented him most often - always given with the most frightening description: a menace shaped like a man, but made of shadow and with no features a man should have, but with the trickery to borrow loved faces for a short time, and leaving Vickers with the unshakeable conviction that it was somehow waiting for him. Personally, Roberts wondered if such a conjuration of the mind were not the very things the men here were trying to avoid, yet left to manifest, festering and rotten, in the absence of reality - the media block-out perhaps doing worse for some of the men’s delicate nerves than the Matron would ever admit. “Ah, my apologies. I didn’t know someone was here.” Roberts almost lost his perch. It would be a long tumble down. The speaker was a man with long dark hair, tied back to keep it from his face almost as long to match who had half-clambered onto the roof from the balconette before he’d spotted Roberts. Clean shaven and in a shirt and waistcoat, the sleeves of the shirt rolled up to his elbows. No hat. He wasn’t one of the patients, and not a doctor with that languid demeanour and casual dress - no, not casual, those clothes were a quality Roberts hadn’t seen in a while, like a country gentleman playing at work. He had a book under his arm. Roberts had needed both hands, and knees, and wished for a second set to be sure he wouldn’t fall when he’d made his way to the recess, yet this man - thin as a reed now Roberts could see more of him - held no such fear. “No, it’s alright. I likely shouldn’t be up here.” The man continued to haul himself out and up close to Roberts - not that there any other option on this narrow ledge. “Why not? Are you planning to do something stupid?” “No! Good god, no. I just wished for some fresh air and gardens can feel… enclosed.” The stranger glanced at Roberts and then gave a small nod and leaned against the warm tiles, entirely at ease. He opened his book, but did not start reading. “Then please, take your ease and stay as long as you wish. I shan’t disturb you. It’s a beautiful sight, no?” Roberts nodded; it was, if one ignored the heavy tree-tops and the bright sun, and the ugly concrete block structures being built in Briarwell that sprawled itself across the ground at the foot of Camberly House, as if in worship of the land it held. Like a lover showing his willingness, waiting for attention.

The stranger turned to his book, and for a few moments, as the sun sank lower, gold turning crimson, Roberts was intimately aware of the space they both held. Both clearly wanting to be alone in the same place. “I know you,” Roberts said, more to drown out the sound of the birds calling in the approaching night than because he actually knew more of this man than a vague idea. A hermit unfit for service, he ran Camberly House as though he owned it while the actual owner resided mostly in London. He had little to do with the running of the hospital, and so their paths hadn’t much crossed before. Even the marches to the bomb shelter were only the patients and nurses, and any visiting doctors at the time, the hermit clearly making his own way down to the village. “Then I believe you have me at the disadvantage, sir,” the stranger said without looking up. “Roberts,” Roberts said. “Private Roberts.” “Well, it’s that personal, Private Roberts, I shan’t ask if you have a given name.” Roberts blinked. Then gave a short bark that was the closest he’d come to a laugh in a while. “Do you, sir?” The hermit looked up, and in the dying sunlight, Roberts noticed the depth of his eyes, so dark as to be black - infinity in a gaze. Roberts regretted asking, as though a thing as a name was an intrusion he had not earned the right to risk. “I thought you knew me, Private.” “I’ve seen you here and there, but I’ve never known your name.” The hermit put a long finger between the pages of his book, closing it, and held out his other hand. “David Loval, custodian of this fine house. It is a pleasure to meet you, Private.” “Aubrey,” Roberts said. He had almost forgotten it, as strange as that was to admit - but he had gone almost entirely from school to the army, neither place caring much for given names. Even Arthur Ryan had only ever called him Roberts. Sensibilities had replaced any sentimentality of his own name. It was nice to hear it out loud again. “A pleasure, Aubrey Roberts. It will be night soon if you wish to avoid trouble with that harridan of a Matron of yours on her pre-bed checks.” “I pity the poor fellow who ever calls Matron that in her hearing,” Roberts said. “Oh, I have, many times. She knows I mean it as a compliment, but that doesn’t make it any less true, and not every man wishes that attention on him, especially if he craves freedom.” It wasn’t subtle, the hermit clearly asking Roberts to concede this space on the roof as politely as he could. It sparked a rebellion in Roberts, a determination to deny the man’s request, for sounding as though Roberts was a child playing up at bedtime. But the hermit was right. If Matron learned of this little ledge she would barricade the balconette doors more thoroughly than any bunker, and the night was creeping in. If Roberts wanted the light, that meant inside.

He sucked his teeth. “I suppose it would be wise not to rile Matron.” “If you are going inside, may I trouble you for a favour, for Lance-Corporal Vickers? I would go myself, but in compromise with your Matron, she doesn’t turn Camberly into a drab medical unit, and I don’t wander her wards and clutter up the space or worse, put uncensored ideas in the heads of her patients.” The hermit stretched his legs out, long, they almost reached over the edge of the ledge. He reached into a pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small sprig of the wild dog roses that grew up the walls of the house. It even had a bloom and a bud on it. “But, it was me who convinced Alex - sorry, Mr. Bronsfeld-Yates - to offer Camberly as a house of healing and I regret that Lance-Corporal Vickers is struggling with that. It’s perhaps a tad trite, but perhaps when this latest fit passes, he might appreciate a token of growth and beauty in unexpected places. God, that is trite. It seemed a better idea earlier…” He began to tuck the rose back in his trousers. There was nothing trite about such a well intended symbol of perseverance, a little sign to say someone had seen you, someone knew, and someone cared - even from a distance. Roberts held out his hand, beckoning for the handover. “I’ll do my best,” he said as Loval hesitated, before letting Roberts take the rose - the thorns sharp and unforgiving, how the hermit had kept it un-crushed in his trousers without pain was a question for another time. “It can be hard to reach Vickers’ rooms when he’s in his way, the nurses don’t like gawpers, but I shall try.” “Thank you. They’ll accept gawping from a fellow patient more than they’ll accept me in their way. It’s refreshing at times, to have no responsibility over their decisions, but it does make it hard to help. And screaming tends to echo through the House." Mr. Loval was looking at his page again, but his eyes weren’t moving, and Roberts realised he had not yet turned a single page, and it seemed that the shadows crept in under his dark eyes, too. Yes, the screaming did echo through the house so. The bird song died down as the light faded and Roberts shivered in the drop in temperature, and the danger of memories surfacing in the cold night. “I should- I should go. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Loval.”

Roberts didn’t dare stand, not in this dimness, not this high up, so swapped dignity for safety as he scooted past on his knees and his arse, feeling the flame of humiliation as Loval simply curled his long legs up, making the way easier. “Will you not consider returning too? You can’t use a light to read outside during Blackout.” “It’s a full moon tonight, that is light enough for me, I assure you. I will not light anything that may put anyone here in danger." “You aren’t planning on doing something stupid, if I leave you alone here?” Roberts asked as he slipped back inside the house, legs in, head out. Mr. Loval just smiled. “I plan to read a most ridiculous book full of nonsense, by the light of a full moon. Many would call that stupid, but I don’t plan myself any harm save some mild eye strain.” “Oh. Well then. Goodnight, Mr. Loval.” “Goodnight, Aubrey.”

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Deliverance Chapter Three

Masterlist

Summary: That time has come to sort through the artefacts that have been sent to earth with you, and Clark finds he is less and less impressed with how krypton was governed.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Fluff,Angst, A/B/O, Mating mentioned, Heats mentioned, Swearing

Wordcount: 14000+

A/N; so this chapter is mostly information and backstory. I rewrote kryptons history becuase... I wanted to? Yeah any way i hope you all enjoy even it it drags.

Taglist: in reblogs

The days that followed were strange, you had gotten used to earth and its strangeness. You were also spending as much time outside as you could, soaking up the sun rays and laying in the grass, sometimes walking through the fields. Martha even had you helping her with some flowerbeds 'weeding' humans were funny creatures. The white and pink flowers were acceptable but the little fluffy yellow ones and tiny blue ones were not? They were 'weeds' and had to be pulled from the ground. Martha had given you a strange look when you asked to keep them but got you a little trough all the same and helped you plant your weeds. They lived on your windowsill and you watered them every morning. Clark found it cute and even added some to it wanting to help.

You felt much better now and your breathing had settled. It was bliss residing with your alpha. You'd learned that he had a job as a reporter- a news writer. Those things weren't really mentioned at home which surprized you when you realised just how important they were and how much time it took up. And speaking of importance, you got your papers! Your official human documentation. A certificate of birth, because humans rewarded their young with paper on their birth you found it funny but your new family had been adamant you were given this reward for being birthed. You also got a number for social security recognition, a schooling achievement diploma? And a passport? So you could fly? Which didn't make much sense to you when you could do that anyway... Or would be able to once you were completely acclimatised to this planet. It had been Clark's friends- A bat who arranged it all, which was nice... If not odd you thought a bat was a winged mammal but perhaps there was a different bat hybrid you wasn't aware of. You were now unofficially, official in your human life.

When Clark was away you missed him, but didn't? Martha kept you busy, filling in the holes of your earthly education. You found her to be a sweet and funny woman, she was wholesome and kind. Never once shying away from you like you had expected. You lived with her for the moment a spare room in the farm house had been converted for you. For some reason she would not let you stay in the same room as your mate, she said it was a human thing. Not that, it stopped Clark from sneaking in at night and curling up in the bed with you soothing you and kissing you. He would always chuckle with you stating 'he wasn't human so its okay' whilst snuggling you sweetly scenting and murring at you until you fell asleep. You never felt safer then in the arms of your alpha, snuggling tight against him pressing kisses to his chest and rubbing your cheek on the curls that covered it, digging your nose into them and sniffing, breathing him in falling asleep.

Your bond was growing stronger and stronger as the days past, even if you only managed a few hours at night and in the morning with him. Clark had to explain some strange things, for some reason you were both to wear a ring? When humans found their mates they gave each other rings and wore them on the left ring fingers it meant they were mates? Married? Martha had been a little upset over it at first but Clark said it was best to do it this way, you could have your wedding later, for now he will wait. Martha had been persistent but in the end gave up, it was hard for her to face the reality that her son was not human and he was trying his best.

You were happier then you thought you'd be on a alien world, you'd acclimatised for the most part and found your own earthling way. Even if Martha and Clark found it strange you refused to eat anything brown or plain. Or meat.

The concept of eating animals was very disturbing for you. On krypton animals were not eaten, well not animals like on earth. Kryptonian's ate what earthlings would call insects, non sentient beings. But then again the insects here were... Tiny, surprizingly so. But Clark had taken it in his stride, if you didn't want to eat meat he wasn't going to force you... But he made you eat lots of what he called your 'leafy greens'... Which didn't make sense to you because many of the leafy greens should just be called greens because brocca-broccile- baby trees! Didn't have leaves neither did the little green balls! P's? You think he called them p's. Just when you began to loose hope for delicious sustenance he surprized you. Mangoes. You loved mangoes and grapes and apples! Fruit any fruit. Martha and your mate had taken you to a human grocery store and you'd been drawn to the fruit section.

You walked into the store clutching at Clark's arm terrified, it was the first time being out and mingling with other humans. Once inside you looked about seeing a few humans scattered about the isles and relaxed. A wave of smells hit your senses making you cough.

"Breath, breath through it love... That's it good girl, good omega. Now hold on to me or the cart and stay with ma and me" Clark said rubbing your back leading you behind Martha walking past some special buys. After a few short minuets you relaxed and released Clark looking watching as the other humans walked about some with children some teenagers and even a few alone. The children drew your attention. Boys. Real little boys. Flesh and blood male children in little hats and shorts- clothing with cartoon race cars on them. You froze looking in awe. Felt the stutter.

"love?" he asked feeling you halt and tense. He instantly looked up and was on alert every bone in his body itching to protect you. To destroy what had spooked his tiny mate. He looked around for the danger but there was none, just a mother and her sons further down the isle.

"Look... Boys, young boys" you uttered slowly looking to the children holding a brightly coloured packet up to what you presumed was his mother pleading for the packet. The woman smiled and nodded letting them throw the packet into the cart and they continued down the isle.

"Yes love. I forget you've never seen a young boy have you" he hummed wrapping his arms around you from behind kissing the top of your head. You melted into him and shook your head still watching as the humans rounded the corner at the end of the shop.

"what do you think?" Clark whispered sweetly, amused and struck by the way you'd reacted to such a simple sight. A mother and sons, he forgot you'd never seen a boy before. He had been the last one on krypton.

"They... He was beautiful." you uttered slowly blinking still registering the image of a real live breathing male child.

"Ours will be better~ perfectly formed kryptonians a whole swarm" he said making you feel light and carefree, the thought of a litter- a true litter of your own pups made you quiver in anticipation.

"You-you'll give me pups?" you said softly trembling from head to toe. Clark hadn't made any inclination to wanting pups or to take your bond any further then the sweet caresses and cuddles he'd been gifting you. You'd not once spoke of anything beyond getting you settled into human life. Clark grinned awkwardly and nodded, he wasn't used to children being called pups and such, he was still coming to terms with the? Miscommunication between worlds and terminology.

"I will try my hardest, sons and daughters" he chuckled squeezing you tightly and pressed a long kiss to your head nuzzling your hair watching as the family disappeared. His heart swelled. A family, a real family. Children of his own in your little belly, with out fear of them being too much for you to handle. He could relax knowing you could handle their tiny kicks and nudges. You could survive a pregnancy and birth him healthy full term children. He had so many niggling little fears over trying to create himself a family with a human. Humans were weak, fragile, but with you? With you he could be exactly what he was. A kryptonian. A god among men. It was refreshing having someone he could truly relax around.

"Promise?" Came the tiny voice, breathless and pleading, huge doe like eyes blinking at him hopefully glazed in tears. He could feel the tremors through your bond, like someone twanging an elastic band, the vibrations of relief and excitement reaching him, tugging and pulling. It was as if you had feared he wouldn't give you children. And finally he had confirmed it.

"I promise little omega, as soon as I'm able you will be round and heavy~" watching as your eye grew wide and you purred at him rubbing your cheek to his as he craned down to kiss you, then scented him under his jaw. With an adorable flush and melodious gasp you pulled back looking around worried someone would know you'd scented your alpha.

"shh remember humans don't understand, they don't know what you did sweet pea" he uttered trying to sooth you. You had explained that scenting was seen as very private. It was... Like mating- the prequel to meeting, scenting was strengthening your bond and extremely intimate. To be caught doing it out side? It was very frowned upon, on krypton you'd get less disapproval if he fucked you out in the open!

"do not call me a p.. They are wretched things!... Call me... Something yummy" you complained not yet being aware that a sweet pea was a flower... And he wasn't calling you and actual pea.

"I apologise... You can be my little cookie?" he chuckled slowly it wasn't that he was laughing at you but he found it endearing how straight forward you were. If you didn't like something you told him out right. It was a nice change, you didn't seem to understand the whole human political correctness and subtlety. Your reasoning with Clark was that you could both feel the others feelings through the bond, so what was the point in lying. That would just complicate things. And he couldn't argue with your logic.

"what is a cookie?" you asked tipping your head to the side curiously. He did burst out laughing at that and shook his head squeezing you tight. Tighter then any human could handle, but that was part of the beauty in your relationship. You wasn't human, wasn't breakable. He could fully relax and touch you without fear of harming you. You were impenetrable... Well in that sense anyway~

"Something very sweet and delicious I promise~" he said kissing your head once more and ushered you down the isle slowly trying to find his mother, but still let you look around. You were curious and wanted to explore your new home planet and he wont ruin your first venture.

"Clark? Clark come and help me- I cant reach the milk! Its at the back again!" Martha said quietly you smiled. It took a lot of coaxing but you had indeed tried what Clark had explained as 'cow juice' and had developed a taste for it. So Martha had promised you milk every day if you liked. Which you did like. A lot. Clark pressed another kiss to you and walked off towards the milk refrigerators expecting you to follow.

You made to follow but a sweet scent hit you and you stopped mid step. It was wonderful and ripe, sweet and succulent. You pivoted and followed without much thought. Your feet found there way twisting around the display of 'leafy greens' to a bright colourful isle. You salivated at the smells. There were so many intoxicating scents you didn't know what to look at first.

You pressed a hand on a small net package full of strange green fuzzy balls. Kiwi's? You read and scrunched your face up at the peculiar name. Then plucked the bag up and held it to your nose sniffing. They smelled divine, like a type of food from home. Okriin a small sour sweet treat given to children on their birthing date. You sniffed again and almost cried. It was so similar but so different sweeter and fuller in the scent. You cautiously sniffed again and closed your eyes before tentativly prodding it with your tongue wanting to see if it tasted the same.

"y/n? Y/n?!- oh god there you are? What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack" Clark said racing towards you his mother behind him with the cart. He slid to a stop and blinked at you. As you scrunched up your nose.

"The texture of these are... Not very nice?" you said naively moving for the fruit again sticking your tongue out once more trying to discern if it was edible like this. Clark moved quickly gasping holding your hands that had the.. Kiwi's in it.

"no, no.. No we- you don't eat them like that... You peel them and eat the inside, and we don't lick things in the shop okay?" he explained with a teasing to his voice. Martha chuckled into her chest she couldn't help it, you were extremely cute.

"But? Then how do you know if you like it if you don't taste?" You frowned as Martha stifled a laugh. But she quickly curbed herself when you looked serious and a little upset. You didn't find it funny food was serious and had always been rationed, you were allowed only the portion you needed to stay healthy back home. Nothing more unless you could grow it.

"You buy it and eat it at home, then we can come and get more" Clark said drawing your attention once more. Your frown deepened. More? You could come back? That didn't sound right... or fair, Martha normally made one trip a week on the same day... wasn't that her alotted time for food shopping? Or was it by choice?

"More? But isn't there rules on how many trips a household makes?" You asked genuinely confused looking from your mate to his mother then back again. They both looked a little shocked by the idea of not being allowed to get food when they needed to. Martha even looked sad, shaking her head looking down.

"No love, there isn't... is there on kry-back home?" Clark asked, he almost sounded offended by the thought of being told when you can and cant go shopping.

"Yes. We have fifteen minuets for every member of your house hold that your shopping for and an alotted time every two weeks to pick up your rations" you said without batting an eyelash. Clark drew a deep breath, he had to admit he didn't like what he was hearing about your shared home planet. He found himself more and more relieved you were here with him and not in that? Authoritarian place.

"Did you lick anything else?" He said trying to move away from the topic, he was trying to get you used to this planet and this was your first time out and about in town. He wanted to move on, to let you be free and explore... preferably with him beside you.

"...If I do can we take it home?" You said tipping your head to him with a cheek grin. He chuckled and rounded you placing an arm around your waist and pokeing under your ribs in a freshly discovered tickle spot making you giggle.

"Silly thing you don't have to lick things for us to buy them, I suppose you liked the smell huh?" He enquired nodding to the Kiwis still clutched protectively in your hands.

"Yes it.. Its like something from home- a treat we had on our birthing day..." you nodded looking down plucking at the bright orange netting that kept four of the fuzzy fruit together.

"Then we shall get two packets love" he said plucking another pack of kiwis and placing them in the cart, he then looked to you as you scanned the isle still indulging in the amazing mix of smells and colours.

"Pick out a few more things to try, the mangoes are nice and juicy I think you'd like them." He said motioning to the colourful sweet smelling displays.

"R-really I can pick some?" You asked nervously twiddling your fingers and pulling onto the sleeves of your top.

"Yes love we don't ration here you can pick a few things to try, just promise me you wont lick any of it... at least not until we get to the car"  he said grinning as you nodded enthusiastically looking around suddenly full of childish glee. God help him when you try some candy, he has the feeling you'll have a sweet tooth.

"I promise!" You said happily and ran off to some of the other fruit that smelt divine and quickly picked a few.

Once you got home you watched Clark and Martha make a small platter of fruit for you. And you'd fallen inlove! Mangoes and pears were your favourite,  you didn't like grapefruit and should have listened when they told you not to eat a lemon... lemons were for juicing and flavouring other food, not for eating.

You smiled as you mulled over the day, that was the first day you saw the civilisation of your new home. Humans were free and unorganised. Chaotic but at the same time had made their own way to navigate the chaos of their world and one another. They were very similar to your kind. But it was hard, frightening! Suddenly you could do what you wanted when you wanted. Krypton in its desperation had taken many choices away, even the basic ones. Like how much food you could have per household, how many times you could visit the shopping districts or medical bays. You had laws on how much water you used, who could go where and when. and suddenly all that structure- all those rules were gone. You were to do as you pleased?

It was a frightening concept.

You padded across the small space to the barn with tentative steps, quivering knees. Clark was behind you a few feet trying to give you space, yet at the same time he was pressing himself though the bond. Warm and comforting reassuring you. He had learned in the past week that he could send messages through the bond. Almost whispers it was weird you didn't hear anything but you could feel his words, feel his probing. His soul was apart of you and your soul apart of him now. And you could communicate in such a deep way it- you almost felt as if you were one being.

Today you had decided to go through the ships cargo hold and start removing some things up to your room. It had been something you put off but it was time to begin answering more questions, time to give our alpha his heirlooms and books. Your job now was to help him learn all about krypton and its past.

Clark darted forward opening the doors to the barn letting you and Martha in. You'd decided to let Martha help, she deserved it she was your surrogate mother now after all. Last week she'd started asking you to call her Ma too.

You moved towards the tarp covering the ship and pulled at it making the crinkling plastic fall the  inched forward pressing a hand to the door to the pod. You froze, flashes of the moment you'd been wrestled into the pod crossed your mind. The fear and agony of knowing you were going to be there end. Kill your parents. But it was to late, it had been too late then and it was too late now.

"Omega? Are you alright?" Clark said standing behind you curling one arm around your frame, the thick forearm resting over your tummy at your waist.

"Yes, its... The last time saw this was when" you trailed softly, you knew he could feel the fear and despair as you replayed those final moments with your family over and over. You hand been strong enough to hold on to your mother or father. You hadn't had enough grip to pull them into the ship with you, and your lack of strength cost them their lives.

Clark murred into your shoulder, his other hand stretching out smoothing his palm over yours pinning it you the surface of the door. He could taste the anxiety, the overwhelming frantic terror that had overcome you as your bond soured your memories haunted you. In the night you'd cry out for them and jolt awake sobbing your heart out. But you'd never spoke about what ha actually happened.

"D-do you want to talk about it?" He said quietly pressing his chest to your back needing to touch his sweet omega, the overwhelming drive to comfort you was almost painful.

"I don't think it would help... I shouldn't feel bad, its what i had been commissioned for. We all new our purpose" Clark paused. What? You had barely spoke about krypton, but from what you had mentioned he had a very... unimpressed view of it. The world sounded totalitarian and harsh everyone leading a hard life of duty. But he had never pushed you, he could tell you still mourned the planet despite its shortcomings.

"C-commissioned? Purpose? What do you mean?" Martha muttered moving closer to you both. She too was curious, her and Clark never thought they would have this chance, that they could learn everything about the planet of his birth or his race. But you were it. Their answers a living breathing kryptonian that had resided on krypton! You knew everything they wanted to know and probably more. They had been trying to hold back their questions it would seem that you may finally be up to answering them.

"Krypton is... Was like... North Korea? The one shut off from the world? But... stranger, its hard to explain without knowing our history we had our reasons and failures" you trailed off, you was unsure where to start, the troubled past of your race was woven into its present, well not present as today but... the final era of krypton. Everything leading up to the day you were shipped off from the planet. There were complications, twists and turns that you might not be able to explain properly.

"Please, I'd like to know" his voice was small and sweet, almost naïve in a sense. You got the feeling of a curious desperation from your bond. It made you grin, he was trying so hard to hold back for your sake, he truly was the perfect mate both considerate and loving, there was a gentleness about him that many alphas are said to have lacked. It must come from being raised on this planet, growing up around being so much weaker then he is that has moulded him to hold such a sweet sense of  nurturing. After all your mate was the golden son, a living breathing god on earth.

"I know... come I have books and artefacts in the cargo hold, I will give them to you and you can read" you said with a shy smile, you warm giddy feelings traveling along you bond making him murr once more managing to hit the all important melodious sound that was the unique soul song you'd both began naturally harmonizing. You stood and pulled from Clark and walking a small way down the ship. You pulled a hidden hatch open jerking a lever up and then pulled and twisted before releasing. You were quite impressed at how easily you'd done it. The suns rays had made you immensely strong already. Soon your be flying hopefully!

Clark hovered over you, making sure to stand in between the ship and his mother. A large gust of air and a whirring sound resounded and you stepped back. There were several clunk's and metallic creaks then the whole side of the craft pealed away like a set of curtains a thick corsetina of metal revealed a large cargo hold the three of you could just fit in.

There were shelves and cases piled high inside. All of krypton's most valuable artefacts, your whole history in the small stalagmite keys. Just like the one Clark had been sent to earth with. But these held information, schematics of incredible tech, medicines and encyclopaedia's. Not only about krypton but other planets and races that could cause a threat.

The there were the texts for your pups. The very same you had used to study as a child. You tip toed inside looking around feeling your heart break. This was all that was left of a whole civilization. A case of ceremonial robes, some crown jewels. Seeds for a few important plants- even a small rack with some mature plants that were being grown in a small self sustained pod. It was a true treasure trove.

"Wow this is? Incredible"

"Everything in here is... significant to our kind- here these are the books to start with they will tell you what krypton went through... a child's guide to our history" you said scooping up the books you'd studied and handed them to Clark. He moved slowly taking them from you running his fingers over the image on the book.

You walked off around a small shelf trying to find your chest- the things your parents had been allowed to pack for you. You had to find it and get over those emotional tugging in your chest. You had a lot to explain and had to have a clear head on your shoulders.

Martha stood close by the exit as she watched the two of you potter about the ship. It was both frightening and exhilarating for her. She was glad they had thought about all this, about giving both you and Clark things to remember krypton by. She moved to step behind Clark peeking at the book he was flicking through and was surprized to find she could read it. Everything was in perfect English.

"This is? Are they all in English?" She asked turning to you who was still wandering around becoming upset clearly looking for something in particular.

"Yes, they needed to make sure kal-clark would be able to read it" you said comeing around the other side of the shelves and stood beside them both. Clark turned around eyeing the book seeing what looked like propaganda filling the pages. It was disconcerting he was slowly becoming aware that krypton was not the magical place he had envisioned but a very draconian type of civilization. He didn't want to read pages of scripted drivel. He wanted the truth. He closed the book and eyed you then held to book out to you.

"I'd like to learn from you... if its not to much to ask love? These books will paint a rosey picture, I want to know the reality what people actually thought of our planet" he said still offering you the book. You held your breath debating for a moment, but finally breathed out a sigh and took the book from him. Agreeing.

You moved to the side of the ship and sat down letting your feet rest on the steps. Clark and Martha followed your lead taking seats beside you.

You kept quiet for a moment pondering over what was most important to start with. Your evolution. Then your genealogy, the great mistake and population crisis and the laziness that followed. The selfishness and finally his own story, the story of the golden sons escape and the new age. The final short 31 year age. And your delivery.

You opened the page showing some images of the first ever 'proper kryptonians' and held it open letting both Martha and Clark lean over to see. It was like a family story time.

"Okay... So kryptonians evolved just like humans did millions of years ago.  But unlike humans we kept more of our animal like instincts, we retained pack mentality" you said pointing out the different images of the evolution.

"Alpha and omega's?" Clark asked curiously as his eyes scanned the page. There was a list for each. Alpha were bigger and stronger, more dominant and protective, fierce and very potent. They were more economic and able to draw more power from little radiation. Omega petite, defensive, skittish and shy. Nurturing and extremely fertile. Submissive.

"Yes and betas they aren't an extreme like omega and alpha. They are more balanced but much less fertile. We have one mate, one soul bond once its made you cant deny it, but its also a problem." You flipped a few pages to the mate bond section where there were a few images of couples and some more little bullet points. Of which you covertly covered, they didn't need to know about sex or knots or heat yet... you would explain to Clark later... alone.

You flushed unable to stop your mind wandering. Images of you finally bonding with Clark, the undulating hips and breathy moans resounding in your ears. All leading to a great finale of his bite, his canines would prick your skin clamping down not only marking you but to hold you still as his cock swelled and pressed your walls tight trapping you to his huge frame. It was said to be painful and euphoric the feeling of absolute unity. Apparantly omegas can panic when their alpha knots them for the first time, the bite would make you freeze and still for him enough to fully penetrate you. He'd knot you for a long while tying you to him both mind body and soul as he saturated your insides claiming your body for himself.  You swallowed, nervously. You couldn't wait to finally be claimed, but you were also nervous. He was large even for an alpha and there was no doubt in your minds he was well proportioned.  

Clark noticed you begin to blush and squirm, your scent changing becoming both sweeter and musky he leant over you trying to peek at what you were hiding. He snuck a hand around behind you and tried pulling on your elbow to see what your were trying to hide.

"Oh no come on love what are you hiding there?" He teased and pulled tugging you closer making you whine and pull back.

"No that's nothing just its err our sex education and we don't need to go into that yet!" At the mention of sex Clark stiffened and released your elbow but remained wrapped around you.

"Oh right well then.. we know all about that so there no need to... explore that topic" Clark said flushing brightly but you paused... should you tell him?

"Well err you... you will have to there are.. some difference to having sex with... others then your mate, things are... different when your body knows it can impregnate its partner. So you need to err... I've got books for you to read in private" you flustered flicking your eyes quickly from Martha to your mate trying hard not to imagine him but ass naked stroking his cock readying himself to mount you. Clark didn't seem to realise you were becoming nervous and quickly spoke up slightly confused by the way you'd worded your statement. But then again he found a lot of the things you said strange. You wored things differently, and sometimes used the wrong words altogether! As much as krypton prepared you it sort of hadn't? Your English was good but... Not completely accurate.

"Different when you can impregnate? What's that supposed to mean, I've had sex... It was normal human sex" you whined and lowered your head feeling a little upset. Your mate almost sounded offended, like you'd undermined him or doubted his ability... You felt a little shamed over it, you hadn't intended to insult him. You turned to him your panic of displeasing him washed away your nerves of having the sex talk. You rested a hand on his thigh squeezing it before beginning  to explain that you wasn't belittling him it was just genetics.

"You cannot conceive with anyone other then your soul mate... It just doesn't happen. Is impossible, we were taught that its because your genes are only compatible with that of your mate, your other half. Pairings aren't always omega and alpha either, they can be anyone with anyone, but most alphas have an omega" you said trying not to go into detail but Clark merly blinked at you nodding wanting you to continue as he soaked up every word.

"And there are... Things that... Happen during sex with your soul mate, your err... Anatomy changes... And err expands? I suppose? Our bodies do what they must to... To try and... Conceive.." you finally stuttered through the images your mind conjured. Mind drifting to all the uncomfortable classes full of giggling girls and unamused teachers explaining knotting and ejaculation with a huge image of a penis on the board... You flushed word on the school playground used to be the size of a balled fist was the size of your mates knot. You swallowed eyeing Clarks hands, though not balled up he had then curled up loosely. You clenched, for some reason the thought of him being such a large male made you very ,very excited and anxious. The larger a male the more chance there was at having a successful mating because he would be deeper and nothing would escape. Fuck.

You shook your head swallowing dryly. Now was not the time, thoughts like that were dangerous and could trigger a heat, something you didn't want to happen until he was aware of what was to come. You wanted him to be fully aware of heats, ruts knotting the full process before in sighting anything. He was still immensely stringer than you, if he were to have you now and panic whislt knotting he could pull free and tear you. And you didn't want that.

"soo i get a... Super erection or something?" he said with a huge smile both teasing and boasting, sitting up straighter unknowingly posturing, preening like a little peacock as humans would say. You made to reply flushing a deeper red, beginning to feel a tad dizzy with all this blood rushing to your head. But luckily Martha interrupted and waved her hands making a slicing motion trying to literally cut the conversation short.

"Right okay! Enough of all that" she said managing to move your arms that were still covering the very crude generic drawings of an alphas cock, you moved letting the human turn the page which lead to the next stage of your peoples history.

"But Ma?!" Clark complained eyes loosing their amused shimmer only for him to pout at the human clearly upset that he wont be having a full sex talk with you. And you couldn't be more thankfull because you only had books and a school sex education to go by, you'd never actually seen a real one before, so didn't really have any grounds to be teaching anyone anything about them. Least of all your much older, more experiance alpha mate.

"But nothing Clark, she said she has a book so you can read the damn book! There will be no hanky panky anytime soon do you understand me?" she scolded in a final motherly tone making you giggle into your hand. Your alpha was very cute when he pouted, blue eyes wide and a perfect downturned frown on his lips, the pink bottom lip pressed forward in a sweet gesture. How the perfectly masculine sharp angular male could be both stunning and adorable was beyond you. But he was just perfect.

"Yes Ma" he sighed looking more and more disheartened but then nudged your side and sent you a wink before raising his brows suggestively. You squeaked and looked to the book in your lap once more feeling your ears go red under his provocative gaze. He huffed a quiet chuckle and purred low in his chest. You felt it the warm yet prickly sensation of your mate. Is was playfull, like when someone lightly ghosts a finger over your inner arm? A slight tickling sensation that made your skin goose bump and tingle. You knew this feeling well, you had been pleased to know your alpha wasn't all work and no play. He was actually a very fun loving man, he liked teasing you playfully and always managed to make you laugh or blush. He enjoyed you being both happy and flushed they seemed to be his favoured reactions and he would go out of his way to cause them.

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

Martha had said he just seemed happier, younger like a little teenager again. But this time without all the angst. Like you had somehow drawn away the worries he had. Apparantly as he took the mantle of superman he had lost himself along the way. He wasn't cruel or mean but he was stressed. Martha had said he was beginning to question himself, ask if it was worth it, if anything was worth it anymore. He took on more and more responsibility and was working himself into the ground. But now he wasn't?

He had you to come home too, he had something more to fight for. She said Clark saw you as his reward in a sense. You were his future, the life he had always wanted but could never hope for. Martha said you'd saved him. You wasn't sure if you really believed her, how could you save him when all you have done is sleep and refuse to eat anything other then fruit.

"Clark you might be more convincing if you wiped that smirk off your face... I'm serious, let y/n settle before risking any children okay?" the woman deadpanned making him shrug and chuckle at her.

"Aw that's no fun I already promised. Didn't I sweetheart?" he teased still eyeing you managing to ignore his mothers scathing look as he tried to get you to look at him again. And like an idiot you did spare him a quick glance, well you thought it was quick but somehow he managed to wink at you again blowing you an over exaggerated kiss.

"Clark Joseph Kent!" Martha snipped quickly a much firmer warning in place making him sigh and roll his eyes at his mothers use of his full name. He could see her point but he had to admit he was a little put out with her.. His mother had an issue with your age, even though your twenty two in earth terms you still did look the part of a teen all be it a nineteen year old, but teen none the less. She was uncomfortable with the idea of him bedding you and wanted you both to wait. But Clark didn't have an issue with it, you were his omega. He was your alpha and neither you or he were humans. So why live your lives by human rules? Besides the paperwork was all set up. Legally your not a minor here you just look young, many women did.

"Yes, yes fine, no sex yet jeez" he acquiesced giving in for the moment not needing another lecture. As much as he loved his mother; and he truly did. But his sex life was none of her business and he will fuck you when you were ready and willing and there was nothing that will get in the way of that. Not even the woman who raised him.

"Glad to hear it son. Oh don't give me that look you know it makes sense... Now dear why don't you continue, both Clark and i would love to here about your history" Martha scolded then rolled her eyes at her supposed 'adult' son who was pouting. You smiled uneasy but nodded. You learned quickly that Martha ruled the roost, but it was still strange for you to watch. You'd been raised to see Kal as a god- a saviour and your races true hope. Watching the man you'd all but worshipped be scolded by a human was... confusing. But you just let it be, you were realising humans were much more complicated then you were lead to belive.

"yes of course..." you paused clearing your throat quickly looking at the open page then flipped it seeing the next images. The ships, and graph of births declining... the population crisis, the beginning of the mighty kryptonians demise.

"When our people began scouting the galaxy less and less found their soulmates because we were soo scattered and so pairings dropped and so did births which began effecting economy and age gap parings suffered because their mates werent being born. Suddenly things took a nose dive mates weren't being born families were suddenly being cut short and many bloodlines died off... Over sixty percent of noble houses were wiped out in three decades, suicides were on the rise there was no point to life if you couldn't be happy or have a family" you explained flipping another page letting the both of them get their fill. Both pages were full of house crests and a little information on what each one represented, what their houses did for krypton notable mentions and such.

You flipped again this time showing images of the amniotic chambers. Huge glass towers that grew 'artificial' kryptonians. It was a leap forward in science. They had learned to play god, create life without any comprises. Your own eyes scanned the image a small foetus in a sack and a few around it larger and more developed. It was how your own life began.

"We turned our attention to a amniotic chambers, scientists and doctors could suddenly make anyone children! Mates or not. There was a huge baby boom but, it did nothing for the planet or its people" you explained slowly even saying it sounded strange now that you were older, but then again you'd been taught that this had been wrong. This it was the mistake that had started krypton's downfall. You'd been raised in the old ways, with old values.

"Over time it was seen as primitive to actually seek out your mate and birth a child naturally even having sex became pointless. Why go through that pain when you could have one made and delivered to you when its born?"

"So they were farming babies?" Martha asked incredulously unable to fathom such a thing. It was far fetched, the idea to make fake children? To be able to have a child without carrying them or birthing them but they were your own flesh and blood?

"Yes Ma, but more then that... when we turned our back on natural birth and mates we lost a lot of ourselves and had to use a codex to give the new generations traits and keep some semblance of our race instincts... but even that became political all birthed children had to become more beneficial to society. Loyal, strong, intelligent, beautiful, compassionate, nurturing. And at the same time you could choose the look of your child, their sex, their presentation." You explained voice getting smaller as you spoke it was uncomfortable to talk about parents could determine everything about you. Your sex, pigmentation personality, hell your parents could choose specific moles and birthmarks of they wanted a late 'morphing' session a few weeks before you were born.

"Presentation?" Martha frowned not fully understanding. You nodded to her sparing a glance before quickly looking away. It was strange explaining anything that remotely eluded to pairings and mating with her. She was a human and didn't understand. You found it unnerving, everyone just knew these things back home.

She didn't understand it and sometimes it frustrated her making her snip at you and Clark. She didn't mean to but it was just hard for her to fathom a race evolving and still retain some animal primitive instincts. Humans didn't keep much of theirs, the only ones you were aware of was their self preservation- their undeniable need to stay alive for as long as possible apart from that? They had escaped everything else. The bottom line was humans didn't have soul mates and Kryptonians did, and no matter how much the woman wished Clark was a human, he wasn't and he never would be. Martha had been able to ignore it on a day to day basis. To all intents and purposes when Clark wasn't in his suit she could pretend he was normal. Until you came along.

Not that you think she didn't like you, because she loved you, you were sure of it. It was just, sometimes Martha had to look away as you and Clark bonded. She didn't see mates, she saw her adult son fawning over a love struck teen.

"Will they be alpha, beta, omega or a new non-type" you hummed quietly trying not to dwell on the subject not wanting to upset her. Martha drew in a deep breath and nodded to you soaking up the information. You could see she was trying, she wanted to understand it was difficult for her.

"So if I wanted a blue eyed blonde boy I just had to say?" She said veering off topic slightly wanting to move on swiftly but didn't want to out right say 'lets talk about something else'

"Sort off, eyes can only be dark. Blue, green, pink, grey and amber eyes were traits only found in true borns, these traits died out. Everyone had a dark brown or black eyes occasionally you could have a very dark blue or green but bearly noticeable"  you brushed over the topic as quickly as you could whislt still giving a few extra details. Clark grinned at you and made a passing comment of 'that's why my eyes fascinated you soo much?' Both he and Martha chuckled as the comment made you flush and nod slightly. It was true, you'd been enamoured with his eyes never having seen blue before... and they were soo blue it was like looking into the purest cleanest pools of water your ever seen! Gorgeous and vibrant. it had been a little ongoing tease of Clarks commenting that you were 'staring again' when ever he caught you gazeing at his azure crystal clear eyes.

"Krypton was quickly overpopulated and began draining our planets resources quicker, then they looked to the core... the beating heart of the planet" you said turning the page adamant you were not going to be caught up eyeing him again for the hundredth time today.

"And they drained it?" Clark said leaning mover your shoulder looking at the diagram of krypton that briefly explained how the core was depleted and what a calamity it was.

"Yes. It took a millennia but we bled our planet dry... It became a dry desolate place but had huge glistening cities! Technology you could only dream of! Krypton was the envy of many other planets, our military might alone ended wars in days..." Clark frowned. Military? So not only did krypton become a harsh dictatorship they had been going to war? Enough that they were a feared adversary?

You winced as Clarks face darkened at the mention of war. He didn't like fighting and killing but krypton? In its hay day was the front runner. Its military protected the planet but also dominated. It you wanted to win a war it was the kryptonians you wanted on your team, your soldiers were bred for war, just like the omegas were bred for breeding. Clark growled, eyes skimming the page that praised and boasted about the great many wars that they had won, the enemies they had crushed. You swallowed and flipped a few pages quickly skipping the small chapter on the military past.

You skimmed the next page quickly, there were no images on the next few pages. You paused remembering when you'd first worked studied this chapter. You'd been around eight years old, sitting in Mrs Nirn's class chewing your pen as you read ahead zoning out.

You had wanted to understand why things were so different from what your parents upbringing had been. You wanted to know why there were no little boys in your class, why were the lights off? Why couldn't you have a little sister like your father? Everytime you asked an adult they always vaguely mentioned 'things aren't how they were before' but no one had ever answered your follow up questions 'before what? What happened?'  And this was the chapter that explained everything, that shed light on your peoples recent history.

"Love? Mate are you okay?" Clark asked worriedly watching as you seemed to drift off into your own little world. You jumped and faced him as his warm palm met with your back, slow soothing circles rubbing your tense form slowly. You smiled uneasily and nodded to him before taking a deep breath. He had to know, it was your duty to teach him what happened. It was your place to enlighten him on his own importance, he had a right to know how he got to earth.

"W-We began racing towards calamity there was huge protests, people realised we were not going to last and there would be no escape. But the government decided to call a meeting over it- Jor El decided to plead the council to stop the mining but he was ignored the meeting was just for show a ruse to try and quell the masses... Then Lara began pleading with them to think of the consequences" you said quickly finding your voice again recounting the events that began his own story, the role his parents had played in the prolonged survival of the planet and that ultimately lead you to him.

"My parents?" He said slowly recognising their names once more. You nodded glancing to Martha, you didn't really want to keep bringing up your alphas birth parents in front of the woman you didn't want her to get upset or think she was any less significant. Lara may have birthed your mate. But Martha had raised him, shaped him into the glorious gentle and caring male that he was. Martha seemed to know you were worrying over upsetting her and smiled encouragingly before  placing a reassuring hand on your back below Clarks patting you sweetly.

"I'd like to know too dear, I want to know about the people who gave me my son" she cooed slowly making you bite your lip and take a deep breath muttering a meek 'okay if your sure' under your breath.

"They were strong and kind, serious though and realistic. They both avidly protested about the continued abuse of the planet and warned about the imminent destruction of krypton... it wasn't until to coup that anyone new why."

"Why? What was the reason?" Clark said eagerly paying you his full attention. He was both excited and anxious about learning of his actual parents, everything he thought about krypton seemed to be wrong. On a whole he'd convinced himself that his home planet was almost a mythical place that was good and pure perfect! But it was the complete opposite, he didn't want his fantasy of perfect parents to be shattered too. And there was always the fear he'd been abandoned simply because he was an unwanted child or defective in some way.

"She was pregnant with the first natural son of krypton. They didn't want you to be born just to die after a few weeks of life. You were born in your family home. No doctors or machinery, nothing but your mother and father." Clark let out a breath soaking in the information. Zod was right. Jor was telling the truth? He truly was the first natural born kryptonian? It was there in black and white! Not hear say! He didn't have much time to relish in the relief as you continued quickly.

"A few days after your birth Zod made his move to attack the council, his move was partly spurred on by the civil unrest and protests all over the planet." Another few pages were turned as you bypassed all the nitty gritty details of the coup and violence, the protests  and downfall of many proud houses dragged out of their homes, the riots and looting as the military began fighting internally and the police force all but abandoned their duty.

"My birthday?" Clark said lightly dragging his fingers over an image of himself. A still taken from the footage of his birth, he was in a small oval crib with a blanket over his waist and lower half. Beside him was Lara and Jor watching over him. And at the top of the page a date. Both in kryptonian and earths calendar.

"May? I was born in May? Ma look!" He said sniffing quietly looking at the page in awe. That was him, his parents! They were there! He gazed at the image excitedly, he never new his real birthdate, his parents had guessed but here it was. The exact date! His actual real birthday. He wasn't an Aries. He was a Taurus. He never believed in star signs but, somehow he felt better knowing.

"I see that son, you were perfect and so tiny~" she said slightly tearful herself. This was bittersweet, she had to listen and watch as her son, the boy she raised found out the truth of how he came to her. She didn't doubt he loved her but she was always frightened of him leaving her behind in a way, the terror of him forgetting her and choosing someone else replacing her was almost too much. But at the same time Martha owed a lot to the couple that had entrusted her with their son, she would be lying if she wasn't curious about them and the reason Clark was here.

"Your father in an effort to protect you entered the amniotic chamber and stole the codex. He was hunted for it but by the time anyone could intervene or arrest him it was to late. He had sealed the codex inside of his son. He was the final kryptonian so should be able to carry all traits." You explained turning the next page seeing the image of the chamber Jor ha infiltrated. The codex sitting proudly in place.

"He.. he risked his life? To save me?" Clark breathed out barely whispering the words as he leant forward clasping his hands together tightly. You faltered and looked to him shocked, he hadn't known? You all new that Kal was sent to earth with a stalagmite key with his fathers conscious, had Clark not managed to activate it? Here were ships all over this planet, kryptonians had tried to settle here but... For some reason they just couldn't seem to survive for long. No one knows why, connection was lost.

"He... Gave his life to save you. Zod was the one who caught onto your fathers plan and... He confronted him and your mother. Tried to kill you, your existence; the proof of a natural born was... it would have destroyed his cause... it would have proved him wrong" you uttered slowly unsure how you could tell him the truth without upsetting him, it was a delicate matter. Clark ushered you closer managing to tuck you under his arm holding you as close as he could to his side, then began murring out at you as he felt the nerves, the tangled feelings of fear , grief regret and sorrow. Each one coiling around the other making for an uncertain overbearing pull.

You didn't mean to but you were tugging the bond, looking for approval. Nervously searching for some inclination that he was alright. Prodding at him tentatively trying to peak at his feelings. But you were still uncertain of how to do it without being pushy? On krypton it was said to be unseemly to pry at your mate, normally things flowed freely to forcefully take a look deeper into your mate was... rude and could be construed as not trusting your mate.

Clark didn't know that though. Was it bad? Cruel of you to omit that little social detail so he wouldn't be annoyed at you for it? Was it manipulating? Clark hummed leaning his head ontop of yours, resting his cheek on your crown and placed a sweet kiss to your hair.

"I know... I- he told me on the ship when I found out about krypton... when he told me of mates" he said calmly. You released a low whine nodding to him purring up at him as your shoulders relaxed, slumping once more in relief. You'd been wound up over that. It wasn't like his father would be alive now anyway, but telling him of his families demise wasn't really something you took pleasure in.

"O-oh.. okay well then...err your father was a warrior and fought him, he gave your mother enough time for her to launch your ship. Zod finally over came your father but it was too late, you were almost out of the atmosphere." You swallowed steeling yourself as you continued your tale, recounting the incredible events that had taken place, changing history and the fate of your race.

"Zod instructed all his units to shoot you down, but your mother had used a incredibly illegal amount of resources to make sure your ship's boosters and armed defences were at peak and you made it out"

"So That's really how I left? During all that? I thought Jor had dramatized it... but he hadn't and.." Clark trailed off in thought. He was telling the truth he had been a little sceptical, he couldn't help it he had over thought it afterwards. Managing to think himself into doubting Jor's story picking at it, almost convincing himself the story was a little too convenient.

"It got worse, zod and his men were sent to the phantom zone and your mother was tried for treason. But everything stopped when the footage came through." Martha who had remained quiet listening to you patiently taking in the new information.

"Of what?"

"Clarks birth, it was the first time in centuries anyone had managed to naturally birth a son, a true born son. It was big news and that when the council began to listen, really listen" you shrugged unsure how to explain the magnitude of what Clarks birth actually meant. Unless you were a krypton native you just didn't get it. You  finally closed the book and held it in your lap eyeing both Clark and Martha.

"Then the laws changed krypton accepted its fate, it would die. But not without hope for its race to continue. And that's how we ended up as we were... the draconian backwards planet." You didn't go into detail, over the past few weeks you'd let things slip. Martha and Clark both shared a look. You were almost ashamed of your home. The differences between the totalitarian measures your people resorted to were frowned upon in this country. You felt stupid in a sense. You knew it was only natural to be slightly out of touch on this new home but? You just hadn't realised how much. The freedom and basic human right's you'd been denied! You were taught to belive in Kal. He was effectively used as propaganda, as a reward. If your good and obedient he will accept you. If not? Then you will fail both him and your race.  

"The council watched you used as much energy as it could spare to watch you grow. Then you presented! Alpha, just as we'd hoped. Overnight everything changed again, we had hope and direction. Children were commissioned once more females only, and only women that have a recessive omega gene were allowed to have a child..." you reiterated the fact that females were the only gender allowed to be created. It was the most important rule of your people in the end. Only a female omega could replenish a race.

"But couldn't you make them omega? You said you could choose things like that?" Martha asked frowning not following. You cursed and shook your head you knew you'd confuse them somehow by leaving something out. It was difficult trying to remember all the details about the last chaotic years of krypton.

"No, with the codex gone we couldn't control the genes as much, we could force the child to be female but that was about it. They tried but it was hard creating a definite omega no one could really tell until we presented many were betas or the non type there were very few of us. It was just pot luck." And it was pot luck, out of one hundred girls only fifteen to seventeen would be omega. If the percentage were over that in a generation then it was seen as a 'bumper crop'

"We were made and raised to be your omega. Every one of us was taught about earthling ways. Taught about how to birth and raise pups."

"You were raised to be my mate?" Clark said frowning. He found it strange. You bit your lip chewing on it. You debated on how much he really needed to know, because  honestly now you were here? And experienced earth first hand, now you'd met and spent time with your alpha. You understood how... creepy it would be? But then again if you lied he could realise you had when he reads more of the books here. You drew another breath releasing your lip from between your teeth and hissed quietly deciding it would be best to tell him.

"Yes. Our whole education was based on you and was meant to prepare us for life on earth. You have to understand, you were worshipped like a god. You had the abilities of our earliest ancestors." You began trying to dull down the in depth education you'd received about his upbringing and family. Yet still make him understand just how ingrained he was in your upbringing.

"You are? The epitome of the perfect kryptonian,  proof of how great we once were! Your the perfect male. Being your omega was-is the greatest honour any kryptonian could have. And the only way to survive, only Kal's omega would have the last of the cores power used on her to move her off planet. Her saftey was the most important thing" you explained finally petting him see just how incredibly precious he was. His eyes grew wide as he truly began to understand. This wasn't all talk, and you hadn't been joking when you called him the golden son god among men. That's what you all believed. He was worshipped. It was a sobering thought.

Clark tightened his hold of you hand trembling, palm a little sweaty against your hip. He made to speak but didn't seem to be able to find any words. He couldn't make a sound. It was too surreal for him. Some called him a god here, but he was able to just brush it off, ignore it as an exaggeration. But on krypton? They had meant it. Literally.

"So every girl was raised to... Become Clark's wife? To have children? That's it? No ambitions of your own just... grow up and have babies?" Martha uttered quietly but there was an underlying sadness, she seemed to be offended for you. Which you found peculiar, here the lines of gender were blurred. Krypton raised females to breed, then once they present they were taught other skills to be useful and pay their way.

"Yes. It was... Just how things were, we were taught how to raise children and what to expect with Kal... taught to cook and earthling ways to an extent mainly laws and language but mostly our education was about history and child rearing." You said of handedly trying not to incite anger from the woman. You knew it was hard for her to imagine your homeland. It was harsh and soo different from here. There were regimes like krypton on this planet but they were seen as hostiles and stood against everything this country stood for.

"How did they know? I mean with you? How did they know your were mine"  Clark said quickly managing to intercept what he believed to be a long rant from his mother. She had already made up her mind about krypton, she hadn't said it but she didn't need to her face said it all.

"Your mark apparently we share a mark which is unique to our bond and yours had activated. The council called all the omegas that had presented and searched for your mark. I was the one to have it. I was your mate" you said vaguely to be honest you didn't even understand it properly yet, it was one of the things you were hoping to find out looking through these books.

"And then after finding it they sent you here?" Clark uttered quietly. He was soo wrapped up in loving you, understanding these instincts and just basking in your presence. That he hadn't really stopped to think about the actual journey, surely it had been your choice? Especially when the cost was soo great. But there was a foreboding in your demeanour it left a heavy cold feeling in his gut.

"Yes. My parents- they had five minuets to say good bye and load me into the ship. The council didn't want to cause a panic and wait, I was wrestled into the ship by my father" you spoke weakly. You hadn't thought much about it, you had nightmares. But that was it, you tried avoiding it, blanking it out... not unlike the adults as you were growing up. In your head there was here and now on earth with your alpha and then before. Before became the codename for life on krypton. Before meant your parents, the rules, pain and fear! Before meant anxiety and death.

And now? Now was the time to let them know. Sure they understood the logistics. You were sent here to your mate. But they didn't know the actual story- the chain of events that lead to your arrival. And for the first time since getting here you needed to get it off your chest. Let it out and be done with this chapter finally let go of the fear and guilt you'd bottled up.

"I was terrified, and I fought but? Not hard enough I couldn't hold on to them either of them! The told me that they loved me and everything would be okay but it wasn't- I was about to kill them... I just" your bottom lip wobbled and your voice came out  strained, you fought to get the next words out. Clark murred and tried to comfort you, feeling the fear and anxiety. The guilt and devastation in your bond was... it sickened him feeling such sorrow. But it did no good, he tugged you up and sat you on his lap curling around you, holding you to his chest desperately wanting to sooth you. Ever ounce of him was trembling the need to cheer you up and tend to you was astounding.

But even through all that need and instinct, he knew he couldn't. You were mourning, not only you parents but your race, way of life, your home, your planet! It would be a heavy blow to anyone least of all his delicate young omega. He didn't speak, he didn't want to interrupt, you needed to get this out. He needed to know what happened so he could help you.

"Then my dad... He was the one to strap me i-in... he was the strongest there... the others couldn't have held me down long enough. The ship closed... locked and that was it I was off to earth." Silence reigned as your new family took in what you'd said. They hadn't realised how you'd come here... Clark thought you came willingly, happily boarded the ship to get here. He hadn't even considered your fear and the weight on your shoulders.

"I felt it. The planet die. All the teachers said that you'd be asleep before it happened but I wasn't. It was the loudest and most frightening thing I'd ever heard. It rocked the ship, then the debris... it was like a monsoon, a deafening rain storm of rocks the earth and foundation of krypton itself." Your took a deep breath leaning against Clark pressing your back into him twisting your head slightly resting on his shoulder trying to tuck your face into his neck. Seeking him as your only comfort. .

Clark was finding it heard to hear. He was ecstatic you were here, he didn't care the cost. Now he felt like a bastard. He couldn't imagine hearing and entire planet die. And entire race. You must have felt so scared and alone. He wasn't sure he could handle that type of trauma. Its one thing to be alone hoping you had a homeland. Knowing for certain? That was another thing entirely. Martha hummed watching as Clark got upset and scooted closer placing her hand on your knee while throwing her arm around Clarks back rubbing slowly.

"I p-panicked and tried to change direction, tried rerouting the ships pre-set destination... But it couldn't find krypton. The planet just? Wasn't there anymore, it was so surreal. Instead it continued on to earth, and the onboard computer said I was too panicked to travel at hyper speed so it put me to sleep... the next thing I remember is waking up here... it felt like minuets but had been six months." You ended. It didn't seem right, such a long historic tale ending with you walking up on an alien planet.

All those failures and mistakes rolling one after the other after the other. All the power hungry fools and scientific breakthroughs for nothing. In the end your race had come full circle. An alpha and his omega. Two intertwined souls. The very last paired kryptonians. It was almost ironic, for all the advances and medical wonders in the end nature triumphed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry that you had to face that alone... if I'd known I would have come and got you, I would have never let krypton die-" Clark started apologising holding you tighter dipping his head to yours resting his nose on your hair breathing you in swaying you sweetly.

"No. Krypton had to. We couldn't risk another Zod on your new planet. Your abilities in an evil power hungry kryptonian? It would have been chaos. We knew that we had to start fresh but cohabit a planet. Not rule it. That's why we needed kryptonians to be birthed here." You cut him off quickly. He didn't have to feel responsible,  krypton made their bed and they could lie in it. They strayed too far and had failed, destroyed themselves.

"Zod came. He tried to take over but I... I killed him, id found a ship and my father explained a few things to me, told me about my mate that would be sent to me I looked for you in zods men. But he laughed saying id never find you- the final straw that made me kill him was when he laughed saying you were dead." Clark hissed voice becoming dark as he remembered Zod. The cruelty the man had, the utter madness was something that ha7nted him. He feared that was the true nature of kryptonians, that one day he would become another Zod.

"You did the right thing. Zod was corrupt. The codex can sometimes corrupt a child and feed them too much. His loyalty and strength were... maddening. He was meant to be a soldier he wanted to be a dictator, even on krypton. That's what the coup was about. He was trying to overthrow a high ruling government" you said before slowly untangling yourself from your mate. He released you, hands still hovering as you stood and brushed yourself off. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before excusing yourself scaling the small steps of the ship. Clark made to follow you as you disappeared into the ship needing a few moments alone. Martha held him shaking her head understanding you needed a little breathing room.

You couldn't help it, the feelings came back, the terror and anxiety panic and self loathing. It was nauseating, you'd not really managed to come to terms with the deaths of your family, deaths that you caused. You'd managed to ignore it? Being in a completely new environment you'd almost convinced yourself you were on a trip, a holiday and that your parents were at home safe and sound. It probably wasn't healthy but its what had managed to get you through all this. But saying it outloud? Recounting it had brought everything to life.

You huffed rubbing your eyes as they teared up, seeing all this in here was hitting home. The priceless artefacts and wealth of knowledge surrounding you only solidifying the fact krypton was gone. That it was your duty to keep all this heritage alive. Your job to birth a race and find a way to integrate into this alien world. It was a terrifying prospect, soo much responsibility for a single young female. And you had to bare it alone along side the guilt of being your planets demise.

You quickly wiped at your face sniffling as you felt Clarks approach. Ducking down you looked into the satchel that you recognised as your fathers old pack. You jumped as Clark crouched behind you pressing two heavy hands on your shoulders massaging them before dragging you back to him. You sighed hanging your head as he plastered you to his front,  strong arms slowly winding around your waist.

"Its not your fault, you couldn't have saved them." He said softly pressing a chaste kiss to your neck breathing you in, scenting you. It was something else that was strange at first but Clark had mastered quickly. He noticed that if he gave in to some of these... instincts he could calm you down. Scenting you, coupled with touching you coddling and holding you close seemed to be the most effective way to sooth you when things began to get too much. When you got overwhelmed, but he held back in front of his mother. She was still uneasy about the age difference.

"I could have fought harder-" you whined feeling yourself tremble, the severity of what happened the reality of it crushing you. You began huffing, taking deeper breaths holding them trying to fight the fear and sobs. You couldn't afford this self pity you had a job. A duty to your people and you cant fail! You wont because then it was for nothing-

"Omega." Clarks voice grunted, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was strange, he sounded firm and stern. A real alpha reprimanding, commanding you. You shivered. It was both frightening and sexy. Perfect. You peered back at him, a few tears escaping followed by a single mewl as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"Nothing you said would have stopped them. Nothing. From everything you've told me, the one thing that stands out is krypton did as it pleased. A tiny thing like you never would have stood a chance" he cooed down at you somehow maintaining his authority but in a gentler way. The light growl almost soothed you, it sounded like his murr but deeper and had more conviction.

"I... I know but it... It wasn't meant to be me. Wasn't meant to happen, they always said it was the end but?" You tried to get out the feelings but for some reason you couldn't put words to them. It came in waves, as ecstatic as you were to be here with your mate, relish in the presence of your incredible alpha. You also wanted your parents, your home and all the things you'd been brought up with. You were selfish, you'd wanted it all.

"No one ever really believes a world can end love" he breathed out slowly. Still pressing close to you sniffing and kissing at you, tucking his hands below your tshirt rubbing the warm palms on your flat tummy making you relax.

"So what's this then?" Clark said motioning to the satchel you were fiddling with. You cast a glance to him and smiled sadly.

"My dads... they were allowed to pack things before we got tested... just incase and...They didn't have long to gather things- god I hope there's a photo! And my-" you were cut off as he chuckled and moved closer hooking a finger around the opening tugging it lightly.

"Jurashnir stuffie?" He said making you flush and gape. You were surprised he even remembered. But it warmed your heart that he did remember such a small detail, a passing comment really. It showed he really did listen and take in what you said, even if it was silly anxious prattle.

"Yes that" you hummed face glowing in a sweet blush. And began pulling the bag open fully digging you hand inside.

"I hope she packed it too" Clark chuckled holding the bag open wider so you could see more of the things inside. You already recognized some things, your mothers perfume she used on the rarest of occasions. Your fathers military id pin some clothing and jewellery that they treasured the hair ornaments your mother wore on their ceremonial binding. Then there was the all important photo, you closed your eyes glimpsing the image. No, it was too soon for that, you couldn't look at their smiling faces yet, not after killing them.

Then you felt it. Your stuffie the one that had been with you since you were brought home as a new babe. You yanked it out eyes watering as you pulled out the toy. Clark eyed it with a smile, it was like a chinchilla small round and cute, huge eyes and adorable. You held it close overwhelmed by it, which was stupid, it was a bloody toy, but brought so much comfort. You nuzzled it, rubbing the tiny ear between your fingers like you had thousands of times before.

"I- sorry it..." you breathed out quickly pulling the toy to your lap twiddling the fur on it humming. Your cheeks glowed feeling embarrassed from being so childish, getting so caught up in having your treasured toy with you.

"No. Don't apologise" your alpha was quick to argue with a wide grin eyeing the toy himself with a relieved expression.

"I'm glad you have something from home to comfort you" and he did. He wanted to help make you more at home here, and if a little stuffie did that he wont complain. It will have pride of place on the bed both here and when you finally return to Metropolis with him.

You smiled slowly bringing to toy to your chest clutching it close with one hand almost afraid of releasing it now you'd been reunited. You handt realised just how much it meant to you until you face not having him. Your other hand felt around inside the bag and come across a small book. You frowned and pulled it out then flushed seeing what it was. Who had popped that in your bag?! Surely not your parents, there must be a mistake.

You flipped it open and froze seeing your fathers broken English scribbled on the inner cover. A note to Kal.

'This help read. Kal be happy with mate, love her make family' you drew a deep breath and smiled nodding understanding what he meant. Be happy with each other, become a family.

"Ah and Clark... here this is our erm... my dad left this to you mating book... it has everything you need to know about... that" you uttered handing him the book. He froze not expecting to have anything from your parents. He looked over the words and smiled. It was your fathers blessing something he thought he'd go without. Before you could stop him he was flicking through the book scanning the pages and flushing slightly before laughing boisterously drawing his mother into the ship finally giving into her curiosity.

"Well I'll be damned you actually gave me a guide book for sex! Does it have pictures?~" he smirked closing the book and levelling you with a playful stare. You shrunk back squeezing the stuffie in your arms feeling embarrassed pursing  your lips cutely.

"Oh god I don't err? Look just read it okay! Alone!" You growled at him as he still laughed finding it amusing just how flustered you got. He winked at you before quirking a brow at you then peered at the book once more.

"Oh so it does have pictures! Hmm? Must be my lucky day being given free porn"  he exclaimed teasing you happy that you'd seemed to cheer up, even if you were now a little sheepish.

"I-its not porn! Its realistic sex education!" You said flapping at him well aware of the critical look Martha was casting you both.

"Well sweet heart trust me when I say I don't need much tutoring... actually I do... I need lots! But I'm better at practical~ perhaps you could squeeze in a little one on one session?" He purred leaning closer pushing his chest against you humming biting his lip nuzzling you. You shuddered and stuttered tripping over your words. It was at that moment Martha jumped into action.

"OKAY! Right that's enough lessons for one day Casanova, we can leave that conversation there" she huffed standing behind him placing her hands on her hips taking a stern stance.

"What? But ma i was just about-"

"Oh i know very well what you were just about to do son! Behave. And be glad she gave you a raunchy book." The human countered none to impressed with the way Clark seemed to be turning into a cheeky horndog.

"Its just sex education... not raunchy" you muttered quietly hanging your head with a sigh still glowing brightly at the fact everyone seemed to think you'd given him porn.

"I believe you sweety... Come on Clark lets get a move on, we will sort one shelf today then we can relax in the garden" she assured you before ordering Clark nudging him with a foot making him pout.

"But ma?" He whined suddenly transforming from eager alpha to leading child that made you giggle. He really was cute, cuter then you'd thought he'd be.

"No buts. You want to take this stuff to your little club house today don't you?" She snipped prodding him harder with her foot with a smirk.

"Fortress Ma. Its a fortress" Clark huffed rolling his eyes sending you a wink only to yip as Martha toe punched him a little harder in warning.

"Mm hmm call it what you want, when a son builds himself a hidden little mancave and only lets certain friends in, its a clubhouse. No matter how big or high-tech it is" she drolled making you chuckled at the two. It was nice having the motherly woman around even if she was struggling with the new situation you and her son were in.

"Its not a... whatever, come on you lets sort through this shelf first" Clark finally caved and stood helping you up deciding to pick his battles... he had to keep his mother sweet if he was going to convince her that you could move in with him, be it his room here or his appartment in Metropolis.

[fullbusterfantasmic]

Headcannon Companion Ficlet ( 1 of 2)

Juvia’s Unfortunate Discovery

Chapter One: My eyes deceive me

Rated M

It’s short, a bit NSFW, some sexy time mentions. I didn’t edit this as throughly as I normally do, sorry sorry. No Summary, guess we’re raw dogging it this time around.

“Gray-Sama is definitely home from from his job with Lyon by now!” exclaims Juvia as she races towards Gray’s place.

“Juvia will take care of her undoubtedly exhausted and hard-working beloved”

Upon reaching the ice mage’s residence she’s taken aback when her calls for him go unanswered. A noise from around the back of the house attracts her attention and she goes to investigate.

“Nnnngh!”

There it was again!

Sneaking closer to the slightly ajar kitchen window she begins listening intently.

“Oh fuck that’s so sexy!”

The bluenette’s eyes grow comically wide as her hands fly up to cover her mouth; “Has Juvia shown up during another one of Gray-Sama’s fun times?!”.

Her face reddens as steam billows out of her ears, “How could Juvia once again have gotten so lucky?!”.

Seven months earlier a similar situation had occurred, and she couldn’t help but peek in to watch her beloved.

The rain woman was so overcome with lustful temptation that she even disregarded the fact her beloved was getting off to some random woman in a naughty video. “It can’t hurt to just watch him a little right?”, She thinks as her pale hand slides beneath the slit in her skirt.

“You like that don’t you?”

Juvia bites her lip as she nods, “Yes Gray-Sama I do” her words are inaudible as she continues listening in.

A low growl carries out the window followed by Gray’s low and demanding voice;

“I want you on my dick now!”

A short pause has Juvia’s eyes flying open fearing she might have been caught, she hadn’t been.

“Awww what’s the matter? Does it hurt taking something so big inside?”

His obscene questions have Juvia shuddering with excitement. The temptation is too great, she can no longer keep from looking in.

God, how she wished she never had peered through that gap in the window.

The very moment she did shattered not only her delusions, but her entire world begin falling to pieces right along with them. Feeling the scream preparing to bubble up in her throat has her biting down on her clenched fist to remain silent.

He wasn’t alone.

Her beloved Gray-Sama wasn’t alone in there!

No matter how desperately she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from the horrible sight before her. There sat the man of her dreams, right there on his love seat...With one hand gripping a waist and the other firmly squeezing the ass of that woman!

“Yeah just like that baby, how can you squeeze me even tighter like that when your pussy is already tight enough to make my cock feel like it’s in a vice?!”

Juvia can faintly make out a female voice whimpering pathetically, as its owner continues working herself up and down on Gray-Sama all the while. The heart broken rain woman doesn’t care to hear a single word out of that Bitch’s mouth, but she can’t ignore the voice of her beloved. As he begins to chuckle, she wants to cry, but she can’t ...the tears refuse to fall.

“I missed you so much snowflake, I hate being away from you”

They kiss and when the two of them part, that’s when it happens...Gray finally puts a knife through Juvia’s heart. His eyes reflect every emotion he must feel inside as the lovers gaze at one another intently.

“I love you __________, and I never want to be with anybody but you...You’re so incredible, I’m never going to let you go”

What happened after that? Juvia doesn’t know.

Hearing her beloved Gray-Sama say something she’d only dreamt of hearing him say to her! Said to another woman at that! She just couldn’t mentally process this, so she turned tail and ran.

Juvia was in a state of shock as she walked back towards the Fairy Hills dormitory. The sky was dark but the rain had yet to fall; Much like the tears she had yet to shed.

Everything she had come to know...the comfortable life she’d grown accustomed to...it all fell apart in an instant...it was ripped out from under her.

Or rather....it was stolen from her.

Recalling the last words she’d heard spoken by her beloved... had her immediately running to her bathroom and wretching violently.

Pain...the pain in her chest, it was becoming unbearable.

Her eyes grew wide, expression growing feral, as a sudden realization struck. Her body began to tremble with rage.

”That bitch it’s all her fault...and Juvia will make her pay”.

A/N: It’s not over yet! Hopefully you guys enjoyed this one.

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

Taglist: @oldtrashbin @fleurlovesbucky @hopefuloperaangelnerd @sevenmorningstars @dev-loves-siri @cinematicfanatic123 @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra @big-galaxy-chaos @thoughtsdrought-blog @the-nonsenseblog @inlovewithjohnmulaney

@play-morezeppelin @hi-i-1 @ohashley101 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @marvelfansworld

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.

Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.

Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.

Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.

But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.

Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.

She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.

So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.

A long way home was awaiting her.

And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”

It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.

When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.

The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.

But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.

She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.

She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.

“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.

Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.

“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”

Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.

“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”

“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”

“Squad Leader…”

“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.

In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.

In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.

In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.

And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….

Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.

Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.

Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.

But she was alone in that bed.

There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.

There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.

A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.

She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.

She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.

But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.

He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.

Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.

If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.

“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.

He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.

In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.

Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.

“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”

Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.

There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.

Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.

“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”

That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.

“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.

Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—

She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.

“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”

Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.

These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.

“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”

She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…

“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”

Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”

“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”

“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”

“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”

“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”

She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.

“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”

“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”

Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?

She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”

“It is. It always will.”

The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.

A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.

“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.

___

Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.

Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.

But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.

This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.

And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.

“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”

“You always have been heroes.”

You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.

“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”

The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”

Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”

Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.

“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”

Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.

“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.

Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.

Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”

The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…

The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?

“He actually wrote so?”

“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”

Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.

“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.

“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”

Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.

“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.

Not like she did.

Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.

Sina’s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.

Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.

“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”

He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”

Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.

“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”

Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”

Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.

Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”

“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”

Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.

What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?

Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

She cringed.

“So… about that pie?”

“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.

___

Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.

The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.

Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…

Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”

“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.

Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.

The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.

But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.

“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”

“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”

“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”

“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”

So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.

“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”

Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."

Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?

Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?

"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"

"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"

Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.

___

For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.

The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.

Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.

"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.

If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.

As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.

All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.

At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.

But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.

"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."

Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.

She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?

Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."

"I have—"

"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."

"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"

Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."

"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."

He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.

"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.

Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."

Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.

Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.

___

Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.

Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.

"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"

"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,

"Hange and I have been working together before."

"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"

"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.

"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."

"Nice ones, I hope?"

The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."

"Ah... Understandable, I guess."

"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"

"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."

"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."

Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.

"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.

"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.

"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.

Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.

"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"

"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."

"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."

Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"

"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."

"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.

"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"

"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"

Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.

"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.

"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.

Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.

"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"

Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."

"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."

"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."

"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?

"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."

"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."

Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.

"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."

Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.

"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."

Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.

“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”

Hange could very well agree on that.

___

When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.

“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.

“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”

In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.

Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.

“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”

“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”

That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”

“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”

That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.

Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,

“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”

Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.

It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.

“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”

It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.

“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.

But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.

“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”

“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”

That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.

“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.

“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”

Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?

Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.

But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.

She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—

And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.

She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—

A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.

It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—

"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"

She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.

"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.

Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.

___

"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."

His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."

Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."

"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"

She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.

Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.

But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.

Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.

On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.

And so the shadow finally took form.

Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.

At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.

"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"

Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."

Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.

"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"

Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.

Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.

"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"

"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"

"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."

"Pieck, listen—"

Pieck didn't want to.

"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”

Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.

Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.

“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”

Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.

But what would she do?

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."

After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.

However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.

Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.

There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.

Paradis will fall.

What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?

Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.

"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"

Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—

She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.

Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?

It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.

Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.

And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.

But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.

There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.

Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.

She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.

She just needed to give him a little push.

“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”

Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.

The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?

In that case, her only hope was Levi.

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

.

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

[silkylious]

Limbo (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: bakugo katsuki x female reader warnings: heavy angst, eventual tiny bit of fluff at the end

omf this request is so nice i feel so bad that my writing is literally garbage in this, but thank you sm for requesting this!! <3 and im so sorry if i didn’t do your request justice (i legit hate my writing here :’))

To say the state of your relationship was unbearable would be the euphemism of the century.

Your thoughts often ran amuck, always hopelessly crawling back to that one despaired curiosity; wondering if he shared the same sentiment about your wishy-washy “friends” status as you did. He probably didn’t. That’s the seemingly unshakable brick wall that would inevitably dead-end your lovesick daydreams, each and every time. Though when his roughed-up hands linger on your skin a millisecond too long, when his steeled stare melts, hard rubies morphing into blazing lava pits, threatening to mar your very heart and soul with their scorching intensity –you’re not exactly certain you’d mind that– that’s when a flicker of something ignites within you. Hope, longing, doubt. Whatever it is, it terrifies you. Because you’re agonizingly aware of what that entails. He’s got you hook, line and sinker, but torturously he refuses to do anything with that. Almost like pulling someone in for a hug then abruptly and without explanation stopping midway, he keeps you at arm’s length. Not too far, not too close. And how that cycle destroyed you.

Katsuki was the type to jump into action and ask questions later. Except a lot of the times when these questions pertain to his own emotions, he didn’t even try to answer them, opting to shove them to the corners of his psyche, collecting dust, steadily accumulating until they become too much to ignore and he (sometimes quite literally) explodes. It’s a vicious loop that he could never break away from, he’d even come to find a sordid comfort in it. His coping mechanism was by no means healthy, far from it, but he’d grown familiar to the toxicity.

Katsuki couldn’t make heads nor tails of his feelings for you. Whenever he impulsively threw himself into the lion’s den that was your affection, caught in the moment, in the glimmer of genuine adoration in your eyes, he never came back the same. A piece of his heart would irreversibly split off and reside in the palm of your hand, he was scared that nothing would be left of it, that he wouldn’t be able to regain his bearings until it was too late. You so effortlessly juggled with his feelings, all with a single smile, it scared him that you had so much power over the fluttery sensation in his chest and yet, in the moment, it felt good. It felt so good to indulge in whatever fucky feeling was messing with his head, to let you hold him in the depths of obscurity with all prying eyes shut and what little words exchanged hushed. It felt so alleviating to feel skin on his own (for once not in battle), gentle, comforting but not coddling. It was unspoken between you that you were both more than friends. You knew it, he knew it. Neither of you ever mentioned it. What neither of you knew, however, was how far the other’s feelings ran.

But as high as your silent love made him feel, he crashed back down into the concrete when he was left to his own devices. Without your intoxicating scent, distracting touches fogging his rationality, Katsuki had all the time in the world to overthink. And overthink he did. His pride picked apart the delicate flowering in his heart, ripping it petal by petal until nothing was left but a garden of beautifully withered leaves, a condemnation to what he considered a weakness.

Katsuki was a taker by every sense of the word. Basking in your wispy adoration, only to brush you aside in favor of focusing on academics once he’d had his fill of your love. It was sickening.

Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t outright confessed to him, maybe that’s what soothed the overbearing guilt that crawled up his throat whenever he saw that dejected face of yours, the one you made because of him. If your feelings for him ran deep, surely you would have said something by now, at least that’s what he thought. Or more precisely, that’s the excuse his mind conjured up in hopes of easing his conscious, trying to convince himself that self that yes, he was hurting you, but at least he wasn’t hurting you that bad. He was infinitely aware that this doesn’t put him in any sort of moral high ground, nor does it justify his actions, but, again, it was a last-ditch effort to relieve his anguish if just by a little bit, even if he knew that excuse was bullshit.    

Surely he knew, there’s no way in hell someone as hawk-eyed as him didn’t notice the tyranny he held over the porcelain pitter-pattering of your heart, didn’t notice the fleeting, love-filled glances you sent his way. This was getting ridiculous, you were starting to believe he was taking some twisted sense of pleasure from your heartache, but he wouldn’t do that, right? He didn’t derive some sick kick out of having you indefinitely under his thumb, at his beck and call… right? A few months ago, you would have answered those uncertainties with a resounding “No!” defending his cruel behavior till the bitter end. But now…

Now you weren’t so sure.

And yet you still found yourself in his dorm, on his bed. It was supposed to be another study gathering, but one thing was glaringly missing. Y’know… the gathering. Kirishima was out training and he hadn’t bothered to invite the rest of his brain-dead, self-proclaimed squad. And that’s how you found yourself alone. With your best friend and secret crush. Just dandy.

Your hands were restless. Pulling at the seams of his blanket, cracking your own fingers, picking up your pencil for a brief moment of concentration, answering one or two questions only to drop it back on the mattress again and fidget some more. Katsuki wasn’t fucking blind, and your unease was ticking him off. Though he surprisingly hadn’t said a thing about it just yet, he was clearly nearing his wit’s end. His silence didn’t prevail for much longer, the meek sigh and not so subtle glance you chanced his way being his tipping point.

“What.” It came out as a statement, a demand rather than a question. What was he demanding? He hadn’t thought of that yet, his temperamental limbs already taking the wheel and pressing on the gas without a destination in mind, just being short fused for the sake of it. Was it even his place to be making demands in this situation? Katsuki knew the answer to this one like the back of his hand, a solid no.

“What…?” You really had no idea what Bakugo was expecting with a question like that. He still had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“The hell’s got you so jumpy?”

“It’s nothing…” It was a lot more than nothing, that’s for sure.

“Don’t lie to me, (name). What the fuck is up with you?” Ah, there it is again. That look. His words were as cut-throat as ever, and his mouth was still pulled into that seemingly permanent scowl. But his eyes conveyed something that was whole worlds asunder from his harsh tone. Golden brows furrowed as they usually were, though unusually upturned just the slightest bit. You despised that look. It ensured that you’ll forever be caught in his grasp, forever there for him when he never spared you the time of day.

Your lungs constricted by a force of gorgeously wretched agony. Katsuki wasn’t fair when he bared his soul to you like this, it filled you with such fervent euphoria that torrefied its way through your being, singeing your veins with luminous infatuation. And it hurt. Because you knew he’d cage himself right up as soon as the moment of vulnerability perished.

A crystalline sheen permeated your vision. This wasn’t going to end well.  

“I said it’s nothing,” Your voice raised. You hadn’t meant for the words to be as frosty as they came out, but it seemed like your subconscious was utterly done with the tedium of heartbreak he keeps putting you through.

“What is fucking wrong with you? I was literally just asking why you were being so goddamn obnoxious today and then you go and make a big fuckin’ deal out of nothing!”

“Well, maybe I’m just fucking tired of giving you everything I have and getting nothing in return, Katsuki!”

Your chest rose and fell with each scalding breath that entered your lungs. The blood through your veins was pumping. Never had you been confrontational, and your sudden outburst wasn’t exactly welcome to your system. You wanted to vomit. This was not how you wanted things to turn out, you absolutely needed to leave, distance yourself from the emotional strain he was inflicting on you.  

Without taking notice of the panicked glint in the cherry red of his irises, you bolted out of the suddenly claustrophobic room, leaving Katsuki to stare at his agape door before flickering his unfocused attention to your supplies still laying on his bed.

Katsuki erupted time and time again, with you being as patient as a receiving end could ever be. It’s specifically because of your godly patience that he never considered what he would do once you erupted.

With your back sliding down your dorm room door, and little friction stopping your descent, you wondered and maybe even wished he’d call after you, come banging on your door with bristling apologies on the tip of his tongue. However, the jarring reality was very clear to you. You’d decided on that day, with your head buried in your tear-stained pillow, that these were the last tears you’d ever shed on him, that you were going to put him through the same wringing hell he’d put you through.

You were going to ignore Bakugo Katsuki’s existence just like he’d periodically ignored yours.

The following week had been bleak at best and excruciatingly bitter at its worst for the both of you. It was so strange having to adjust to the absence of the other, even if your company more often than not had been a quiet one, it was company nevertheless. The most grueling part though, was your shared friend group. They’d noticed that something was obviously awry, but since neither of you said a thing about it, they decided it would be best if they didn’t either. The awkward dead silences during lunch were still purgatory to behold. But after a few more slow paced days, the sun seemed to shine bright again. For you, that is.

You didn’t realize how much of your schedule revolved around Bakugo until he was completely out of it. How much time you spent with him, dreading him, thinking about him… him, him, him. He’d consumed your thoughts from the first sparks of dawn till the hallows of dusk. You had so much free time now that he was out of the picture, it was crazy. The more time you spent on yourself, on your hobbies, getting to know other classmates outside of your immediate friend circle, the duller the ache in your chest. Until it was but a static buzz. Yet you couldn’t deny that, with time, your fury had mellowed out, leaving behind a cold loneliness you couldn’t elude whenever your aimless stare landed on him, almost like it was drawn to him by muscle memory.

He was the exact opposite.

You’d think the throbbing within him whenever you finally gazed his way then instantaneously looked in the opposite direction would knock come modicum of sense into his stubborn head. But nope. And seeing you thrive without him only cemented what he already knew. He really was no good for you. So much so that it barely took anytime for you to readjust to the lack of him in your life, and not only did you adjust, you were the best he’s ever seen you both mentally and academically. In the first week of you ditching him completely, his bruised ego kept him for reaching out to you, but now, seeing that elated grin on your face –the one that had been gradually dwindling over the past few months– he didn’t want to take your newfound happiness away, he’d figured he’d done you more than enough harm already.

Heart heavy with reluctance, Katsuki made the decision to give up on your relationship. Deciding to wordlessly cheer you on from the sidelines and watch you bloom, flourishing into the person he robbed you of being for a chunk of your life, though whenever your spring hit, it would be without him. Until some day in the future where his pride wasn’t as suffocating, where he could genuinely, wholeheartedly repent his grievances and only hope for your forgiveness.

Kirishima never took Bakugo for a quitter, hell would freeze over before he even thought such a thing. So this was certainly a shock. What was even more shocking ­– and overwhelmingly concerning– was the fact that Katsuki had willingly, on his own accord confided in him, and he’d, in his own roundabout way, taken accountability for being a gigantic douche to you. As much as the redhead respected his friend’s decision to stay clear of you, he couldn’t help but wish you’d just talk to one another for once. Kirishima really was a saint, having to listen to two idiots ramble about how much they miss the other.

“Listen, man. I know you feel bad and all that, but maybe you should just talk to her? I’m sure she’d like some closure on this just as you do, even if that doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were.” Eijirou tried to reason, praying to whatever higher being out there that Katsuki would just get the fuck over himself and communicate with you.

“Fuck no. That’s not fucking happening, shitty hair,” Kirishima rolled his eyes at the oh so affectionate nickname, thoroughly done with his best friend’s melodrama. Welp, I guess there’s only one thing left to try. He heaved internally, mentally and physically preparing himself for Bakugo’s tantrum.

“Well, you know that if you won’t talk to her, others will, right? I heard some guys saying they’re gonna ask her ou–”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a rat’s ass who asks her out!” He definitely did. Eijirou hid his smile. Checkmate.

“Whatever you say, dude.”

Later that day, three distinctly powerful knocks woke you up. Needless to say, you didn’t think that night would end up with you and Katsuki staring each other down, seated on your bed at one in the morning. Words got stuck in his throat, so he just… noiselessly watched your face, as if trying to telepathically ram his constipated emotions into you, in hopes that you’d make sense of them. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Did you come banging on my door at one in the morning just to stare at me, Bakugo? I mean I know I’m pretty but still–”

“Shuddup.” Not really the best thing to say to you after weeks of radio silence. You were about to make another salty remark, but he opened his mouth first.

“I fucked up,” The fact that he was acknowledging he was at fault was… something. But that wasn’t nearly enough to pay off the debt off turmoil he’d caused you.

“No shit.” You replied without missing a beat. The ice that tinged your words caught him off guard, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He sighed, knowing he’d have to strip himself of everything, including his pride (especially his pride) down to his very core, to have a go at a second chance.

And so, he did.

He poured his everything out for you to observe, without an ego film distorting his words. Syllables reeked of muted agony, he really had rid himself of anything and everything that wasn’t his deepest soul. He finally offered you himself just as you had done countless times before. Katsuki swore that his heart would –and always has been– explicitly yours, he’d roar that fact at the constellations above if you so wished him to. And while it would take a while to heal from coruscating blisters he’d inflicted, you were more than content mending and welting your heart with his.  

[goldenlaquer]

oh shit I didn't mean to press send so early

uH Abuto breeding kink but uh reader's been trying to flirt with him all day but he couldn't get out of work because of The Menace, Kamui?

man oh man, it’s been a long while, hasn’t it? lemme me pour all the repressed feelings for Mr. A here. AFC meeting, start!

Abuto NSFW Headcanons: 

Abuto doesn’t remember picking up another brat along the way. 

Brat #1 was his fault, he can readily admit. The mile-long stacks of paperwork that precariously perch on top of his desk now? He had it coming. It’s a punishment of his own making that started all those years ago, from the first moment he stuck his meddling nose in between something that ought to have made its natural course. The overtime of today (and the many other days that will surely succeed it) is his penance, and Abuto, though indirectly (and rather unwillingly actually, but hey, who’s keeping track?), had signed up for it.

But Brat #2. No matter how much he scratches at his mug, he sure as hell didn’t ever sign up for a second one to come pattering into his office like she owns it, his shirt and nothing else hanging loosely over her shoulders like a trophy and a jaunty smile on her lips like no one else’s business. You demand (your exact words) that he gets some rest, that the work can wait (it really can’t) and that he must return himself back to you (shit, he wants to). 

The first time, it’s adorable. It makes him break out into a grin and chuckle. It gives his tired geezer eyes a reprieve from black and white and numbers as they sweep down from your wiggling toes up to the where your naked thighs disappear under his shirt. It stirs his dick with interest, however: Tempting as it is, sweetheart, Abuto regretfully shrugs at you, humorously wagging his brows to soothe the no, but these papers don’t do themselves. 

The second time, it’s still adorable. You pop your head in, playfully licking your lips, and tell him that you want his tender love and care, please, and while he wants nothing more, nothing more, to take you on that offer, the work is never-ending, and if he does them now then he’ll have so much more time to spend with you later. Surely you’re not that antsy to waste time with an ossan right? Abuto jokes. Patience!

Your wishes for him gradually grow more humble in the third, fourth, and fifth. You walk in, ask him to indulge in you, let you take care of him like he needs to be taken care of, or at the very least, maybe you can give him something to eat? And the every time that he has to double down and say no to that... well, it might just make him go and give Brat #1 a deserving knuckle-sandwich. 

The sixth is where everything cracks. Makes him snap his pen and make the ink run down his fingers. It ruins a document as he watches how his rejection all day has given you no choice but resort to desperate measures. 

You brace against the closed door, shaky legs spread wide apart as far as it can go without compromising the support. His shirt bunched up and cinched by the side of your arms, showing off the view of your sopping cunt, three fingers snugly buried in, a thumb rubbing frantically at your swollen clit. 

“Y-you promised, “ you stutter off into a gasping mewl, jerking your chin further in, dew clinging to your lashes as you move your trembling hand. “Y-y-you p-promised. You, you said only t-three, three more h-h-hours—” 

Yes, Abuto vaguely remembers that he did promise something like that, three hours ago. A promise he’s failed to keep, because there’s so much he has to do still. 

Your hands speed up and your knees begins to dangerously buckle. A wretched cry spilling past your lips. You’re so, so close. He can tell. You’re about to finish what he couldn’t, taking matters into your hands because he was too busy and you were too impatient to simply wait. You do it in front of him as a punishment, trying to give yourself a good time  while he’s working his ass off for you. 

Abuto doesn’t raise his voice in anger often and he doesn’t do it now either, but the “Don’t.” that hisses out between his teeth has all the impact and intensity of it. The harsh sound hangs in the air between you. Mercifully your hands still, the chase to a paltry orgasm forgotten. Your eyes widen in surprise, shiny and doe-like. 

The desk is perfectly split into two. Wood and paper rain down, hours of meticulous, hard work littering the ground. And Abuto walks through the carnage; he’s past caring. 

Sweetheart, Darling, Doll. Brat. The petnames that he uses for you, breathed hotly against your mouth while he backs you up further against the door, easily swinging your legs around his waist and pushing your hips up and up until your quivering pussy is dragged against the front of his open pants, his thick length catching on your soft lips. Your hands scrabble across his chest, breathing hard in excitement, kneading as his shoulders. There’s a flash of emotion across your pretty face. Victory. Abuto growls, inflamed by the audacity. You really have too much time on your hands, don’t you? Must be nice. Maybe he’s been spoiling you too much, readily giving in to what you want, whenever and wherever you want it. Because the moment that he directs his attention elsewhere, you suddenly don’t know how to act right. 

Or is it because of something else? Is this what it is? His cockhead bobs against your clenching hole, and he has to quell the faint surprise as he’s practically sucked in. He bends his head to look at where you connect, at the absolute mess of a state your cunt is in, folds dripping and your clit red and engorged. You can’t even keep a squeeze on him more than 2 seconds, your walls anxiously contracting around him like it’s afraid that he’ll leave. He hasn’t done a single thing to warrant this reaction and you’re already desperate. Too desperate. Somehow, Abuto tells you, he thinks that this goes way beyond you just missing him. 

I-it’s just... it’s just... I don’t know. You’ve been caught, and you try to avoid answering by thunking your head against the door behind you, struggling to keep yourself from bursting around the seams as you adjust to the delicious throbs of cock in you. 

Ah, no. He’s sure that you do know. A big hand slithers under his shirt, palming your sensitive tummy. What’s the matter? What’s got you acting this way? Abuto, damn him, takes a softer approach, beguiling his tone and rubbing his thumb in comfort on your skin. He can take care of it. You know he can always take care of you.

Of course, it works. You can’t help the shaky jolts of your hips as you disclose the reason, burrowing his cock in deeper as you tell him how you’ve been worked up all day, thinking about just how much you wanted to be full with him, how much you wanted to spread your thighs for him as he takes his reward for all the hard work he’s been doing for you, reaping his benefits again and again, round after round, until you’re dripping his seed down your thighs, and until your tummy feels full. 

“A-a-and...” You make bashful eye-contact with him then. “M-maybe... after.... I-I’ll be full with something else too.” 

oh. fuck.

Abuto is completely stopped in his tracks. Not his first time with you, honestly. But the shy confession that you’ve been trying to get him to stop work just so he can fuck a baby into you, make you all nice and soft and plump with his kid, is something— something else. 

Abuto wasn’t lying when he said he can take care of it, of you, but it’s not you that’s been spoiled, it’s him who was slacking. Clearly, he was doing something wrong if you’re the one who has to come forward and ask him for something he already should’ve been doing in the first place. 

You whimper in panic as his cock swells up further, pushing against your tight hole beyond what it’s usually put through. His grip on you tightens to almost-pain, and you feel a hot tongue lick at the sweat misting your temples. He starts moving again, shoving up deeper into sensitive flesh that your previous weaker attempts couldn’t reach. 

Abuto apologizes. For the lost time. And for making you wait. He’ll make it up to you, with Brat #3. 

[halcyonstorm]

Levi notices she looks lighter and happier and is glad shes getting used to the commander post but also notices shes getting distant and blames it on commander duties. He thinks do i miss her? Nah maybe its just habit. Buuut theeen. He then finds out about it one day during an after training drinking session with 104th at the same bar and his breath hitches in his throat. Hange all pretty in a dress very drunk laughing at something this guy said and the world stops around him. He doesnt understand what it makes him feel. He feels like shit. Terrible. He hates it. He wants to smack the guy's face but doenst understand why. 104th notices his sudden unease and follows the direction he's staring and see hange with a guy. Sasha and Armin sigh dreamily happy that hange found someone she likes and that 'this is the happiest ive ever seen her" Levi dies at that. What does that mean? He wasnt enough? What does this guy give her that he doesnt? Wait. Why does it matter why am I even comparing. She cares about me too. But not like that. He thinks. It gets confusing and he leaves in a rush leaving everyone else stunned. Except connie who laughs at how hange made him jealous. The rest is just levi childishly following hange around mocking her happiness and the guy, finding out WHY she likes him. But gets nothing the guys actually nice and cares about hange. He hates himself and accepts her happiness but falls for her even harder since now he knows what shes like when shes in love and he wants it to be him. He accepts that hes fallen for her with the help of a very drunk man next to him at the same bar to whom he spills his secret to. The story continues and pls can someone write this already before i kill myself daydreaming about it

hi anon! sorry it took me a while but I finally got around to writing this. thank you for suggesting the prompt! i hope you enjoy. you can read it below OR check it out here on Ao3.

Title: Get Your Shit Together, Levi!

WARNING: ANGST

note: this is gifted to @tundrainafrica. i hope this satisfies your angst cravings. i hope you enjoy as well <3

Levi and some members from the 104 went out to a bar one night. It was a warm, summer evening and the sun had just begun to set. They all had a long day training out in the field, and Connie somehow convinced Levi to go out with them. Perhaps it was because Connie batted his puppy-dog eyes at Levi in such a way where if Levi didn’t, he thought Connie would break down and cry. Besides, Levi had asked Hange and she declined stating she had other plans. The bar was hustling and bustling that evening. They sat in a booth: Levi, Sasha, Connie, and Armin. They all ordered food, Sasha ordering herself more food than she looks like she can eat. The kids talked amongst themselves. After all, who was going to talk to Levi? He was their superior, almost like their parent who disappeared for years before showing up unexpectedly, expecting the kids to take him back. Armin made some small talk with Levi, but no one knew much about Levi. They knew two things for sure: he loved to clean and he loved tea. He usually hated alcohol, but somehow managed to down an entire beer glass before receiving the food. He was exhausted from the day, as was everyone else.

Suddenly, a loud laugh caught his attention. It wasn’t just any laugh, but a familiar one. A laugh that sent shivers down his spine and his heart to throb hard in his chest. It was Hange Zoe’s laugh. Had he known she were going, he would’ve invited her to avoid the awkward socialization with his subordinates. He looked to where the sound was coming from and was shocked. Other plans, huh? She was sitting next to a dark skinned man with a buzzcut and a beer glass in one hand. He was laughing too. She was laughing at something he said. The sight of her took his breath away. She never wore a dress like that before, but tonight she wore an emerald green dress that went a bit past her knees, exposing her muscular calves. The neckline of the dress cut low, exposing her collarbones. Her hair was in a ponytail but was neater than usual. Was she on a date? The realization caused Levi to feel as if his heart was being squeezed by a fist that was wringing out all the blood from it. Squeezing it so tight Levi thought he was going to die for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to make sure he could believe what he saw. He could. There she was: Hange in her beautiful emerald dress, talking and laughing with the dark-skinned man. They were sitting across from one another at a table-for-two. Their faces were close to one another as they spoke and laughed, drinking glasses and glasses of wine. Why do I feel this way? He asked himself. But he knew why. This feeling was familiar. It happened a few times before, specifically with Hange. It happened when she gave Moblit all her attention, gushing over how competent he was as her assistant, and now. Seeing her face to face on a date with this man who was much more attractive than himself: honey brown eyes; aquiline nose; plump lips; big, strong hands; a deep voice; and most importantly, he was much taller than Levi. He saw her date place a hand on hers, making Levi’s rage fester even stronger. I’m gonna slap that man, he thought. Why was he touching her? And why does she not mind it?

Levi had been staring for a long time, longer than he thought, before Connie nudged him from across the table. He was clearly drunk.

“Leeeeeeeeeevi,” he slurred with a cheshire cat-like grin. “Gawking, are we?” Levi rolled his eyes, taking his beer glass from him.

“You’ve gotta stop drinking,” he ordered, finishing whatever was left of Connie’s beer.

“Are you looking at Hange?” Armin asked, turning his head left to look at Levi. Armin could tell right away that was what Levi was doing. He shook his head no.

“She looks soooooo happy!” Sasha chimed in, dreamily gazing at the couple. Levi felt his face contort into a wretched grimace.

“She does. I haven’t seen her look so happy in a while,” Armin added. He quickly regretted it though when Levi threw him a harsh glare. Armin looked through his glare after a moment. Levi had a look in his eyes that Armin never saw before: hurt. Levi was hurt. His eyebrows were knit together, expressing a look that one may give when they’re about to cry.

I am not enough for her.

Armin felt his heart strings tugged, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Levi’s bicep. He knew how much he loved her, despite his harsh tone. Hange was the only one who truly understood Levi and his words. Armin was able to observe Levi with Hange one night.

It was a cool March evening and Hange was working hard that day. She had been cooped up in her office sorting through and reading stacks and stacks of papers. She never came out for a meal that entire day. He saw Levi knock on her door with a plate of food in one hand and a blanket folded over his arm. She didn’t respond, so Levi allowed himself in. The door was shut behind him, but Armin could hear him softly talking to her before leaving the office. She must’ve fallen asleep so Levi draped the blanket over her shoulders. He must’ve left the food on her desk. That was the moment Armin realized Levi loved Hange. He didn’t just love her. He adored her. Ever since that moment, Armin was able to decipher Levi’s words from his true feelings.

“Oooooooooooooh, is someone jealous?” Connie teased. Sasha slapped his arm. Levi felt like if he stayed any longer, he’d explode and say something he’d regret.

“Shut the fuck up,” Levi sneered, standing up to leave. He felt as if he should torture himself more and watch the happy couple, but he didn’t have the willpower to do so. He drank a bit too much than he would’ve liked, and the heat inside the bar was getting to a boiling point, and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t need to hear it from the 104 that he lost his chance with Hange. They called out for him, but he didn’t hear. The air outside was much cooler compared to the sweltering temperature of hundreds of bodies tightly packed in the small bar. He found a trash can nearby, barely making it before vomiting. The stomach acid and alcohol came spewing out of him. He smelt it in his nose each time he breathed. He spit into the trash can when he was done, starting to slowly walk back to the cabins.

-

A few days later, Levi goes back to that bar alone after another hard day training. He felt like the sun was draining him of his energy each time he dared to stay outside. He sat on a bar stool and ordered a beer. There was a man next to him of whom he didn’t recognize. He was a stocky older man who had short black hair and brown eyes. The man looked drunk, the type of drunk where you can remember half the shit that was going on. The man saw Levi’s face and did not recognize him which gave Levi an impulsive idea.

“Are you from out of town?” Levi asked the man. He gave Levi a small smile.

“Yes.”

Say no more, Levi thought. Suddenly, a few drinks in, he opened up the key on his heart and started spilling his emotions to this guy. A few tears came through. Levi was buzzed at this point, his words too jittery and his hands too shaky. The man to whom he spoke listened intently. Somehow, this man he met at the bar had this pleasant aura that Levi felt he could tell him anything.

“Sir,” The man said. “Why don’t you just talk to her? Talk to her like you’re talking to me. That is the only way you’ll find out her true intentions with her date.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“But it is. You know how much more peace there’d be in the world if people just talked things out?”

The man’s unrealistic statement somehow gave Levi some confidence. That confidence, however, quickly went out the window when he caught a glance of a messy brown mop of hair. It was Hange with that dark-skinned man again. She wore a black dress this time with a high collar, her arms exposed. God, she looked beautiful. Levi wished she could dress up for him like that. In that moment, hearing her beautiful laugh and seeing her beautiful smile, Levi realized he was in love with her.

“Ah… is that her?” The man asked, looking over his shoulder inconspicuously (unlike Levi who starred with no shame).

“Yes…”

“Find time to talk to her,” The man said. “You got this, man.” Before Levi went to say something to the man again, he was gone. He tried to watch her as she talked with the man. She was radiant. She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. Was it… No. It couldn’t be. Her eyes were glowing, she was shining. Was she falling for this man?

He felt like he was gonna be sick again. He abruptly got up from his seat and headed to the bathroom. He pushed the stall door open, vomiting once again. His throat was still sore from the last time, so this time the acid ripped at his throat even more. Hot tears started to stream down his face. He wanted her so bad. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and smile. He wanted to be the one she fell in love with, not him. His heart ached so bad it was attempting to jump out from his throat. What hurt the most is that the guy she was with was nice. Too fucking nice. He laughed at her jokes, didn’t complain when she rambled, made subtle touches that weren’t inappropriate, and he was tall. He placed a hand to his heart as if it’d help put it back together. He took a deep, quivering inhale before standing up, flushing the toilet, and going to the faucet. He splashed his face with some cold water. How can I expect her to like me if I can’t confess? He looked at himself in the mirror.

You look like shit, he told himself. He murmured a few words aloud: “I’m in love with you. I am in love with you. Hange, I love you. I love you, Hange. Please be with me.” He took in a deep breath, stronger than the last, before exiting. He bumped into a person when he left the stall but paid no mind to it. When he was about to leave, he noticed the man she was with was gone. Maybe he was the one he bumped into?

“Oi, Hange,” he said, walking to her table. She smiled softly when she saw him.

“Levi, what’re you doing here? I thought you hated liquor.”

“I can’t spend time at a bar?” he replied, leaning a hand on the table. Hange rolled her eyes playfully.

“You can do whatever you please,” She said, beginning to stand up.. “Now if you’ll-”

“Four-eyes,” he interrupted her. “You look…” She stared at him intently, waiting for his response. “Good.”

Her eyes lost their light. Did he upset her? Then Levi realized she wasn’t staring at him anymore, she was looking past his shoulder. At that moment, the dark-skinned man approached Hange from behind Levi. So I did bump into him earlier.

“Are you ready?” He asked her. His voice was deep and seductive. Levi wondered if they fucked yet.

“Just a moment,” Hange replied. “Thank you, Levi. Was that all you had to say?” He felt like an idiot. An absolute idiot.

“N...Yes,” he said, losing all the confidence he had built up. How could he compete with this man? Levi just wretched in the bathroom and looked as pale as a ghost. Hange placed her hand on his shoulder gently, which made Levi’s heart skip a beat.

“Have a good night, Levi. Get your rest.” She started walking past him with her date towards the exit.

“No…” he murmured, inaudible to Hange. Or so he thought. She froze in her spot as she heard him change his answer.

“Onyankapon, could you wait outside for me? Give us a moment,” She whispered to her date. He nodded, exiting the bar. Hange turned around to face Levi. They were standing within a comfortable distance from each other.

“Levi, what else did you have to say? It’s getting late, you know.”

“I miss you,” he admitted. Hange’s eyes widened at his direct statement, knowing he usually states the opposite. “I miss hanging out with you and being with you all the time. You’re with him now and that’s okay but I just wanted to tell you that I can be better for you. I can take you on dates that are more exciting than a bar. You said you always wanted to swim, we can do that… We can do whatever you want us to do. All I care about is being with you.”

Hange’s face flushed red. He never talked like this with her before. She could tell he was a bit desperate but that didn’t make him any less genuine. Her heart ached. She was not sure how to feel. She did love him, but that was a while ago. A little part of her would always love Levi, but she was falling for Onyankapon now.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” she said, barely audible. “I’m sorry. I did feel that way for you a long time ago, but I don’t anymore. I wish you had told me sooner.”

[ac3id]

Redamancy. iii

Redamancy (n.) The act of loving in return.  

pairings: mirio togata x female reader

warnings: 18+, noncon, yandere themes, breeding kink n mirio is a scumbag. 

a/n: ahaha im reposting this cus  algorithm was effed the first time i posted. ehehehe or maybe im just unlucky-- n e way this will be the last of redamany!! 

word count: 1950 

navigation  ☼ 

←  part i, ii

Mirio's gaze turned to you, sky blue eyes stared at how you sipped on your drink. Your glossy, pink stained lips puckered around the straw. Was that a new shade? You had never put something like that on before. Probably tasted like strawberries or cherries, "Mirio!" your voice drove him out his thoughts. You stood in front of him, your hands at your hip, "What are you thinking about?" Mirio felt his cheeks heat up.

'I was thinking about you sucking my dick, do you mind?'

"Nothing, we should get going. Lunch's bout' to get over soon." He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the school building, you almost trip over your feet, "Hey! Slow down!" You bump into his chest which was hard as rock making your head sting a little, "You're a klutz," he laughs. "It's your fault!" you retort, he pats your head and continues laughing. He takes a good look at you, drinking your uniform clad body. The short skirt displaying your plush thighs. His mind melts away in sinful thoughts, thinking about all what he can do to you. He once again realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. His entire hand can literally cover your face, he can easily pick you and throw you over his shoulder.

What is stopping him? Seriously?

His smile drops when he catches you staring at him. The guy he beat up months ago and threatened to stay out of your life. You were staring at him chatting away, giggling with some nameless girl. He studied your sully expression, your eyes looked sad, and lip turned into a sad pout; he could tell you were upset and that pissed him off. Why did you still think about him? Why did you still care about that jerk? Didn't you move on yet?

Mirio felt himself get riled up from the same rage he had felt the first time he had seen you with this man. The frustration, anger, and jealousy all came surging back to him as he realized that you obviously did not feel the same way about him as he did about you. Maybe he'll have to do more than just be nice to get you to understand he's the one for you, the one and only.

He would show you who you belong to. You will get what is coming.

"Hey, what's wrong? You coming?" His hand rested on your shoulder, he gripped on it a little tighter.

Mirio walked into an empty classroom which echoed soft sobs and sniffles. You sat on your seat, your head resting on the desk as you cried. Mirio's face paled and he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you pulling your upper half to his chest he rubbed your head. "It's okay now, I am here," he whispered into your ear, shushing you. "What happened?" he asked after you had calmed down.

"Why are you still here?"

"I came to get you, now, what happened?" you gulped before answering, feeling the lump in your throat rise as your voice cracked. "Why?"

Mirio was confused, what were you on about? "Am I not good enough? Why did he leave me?" tears roll down your cheeks, lip trembling your breathing turns uneven. Mirio frowns, his hands clenching into an fist he pulls away from the hug.

You were thinking about him, obviously. He moves in front of you grabbing your jaw, his big fingers squish your tiny cheeks. Your eyes widened in horror as he pulls your face closer to him, his elbows resting on the desk separating the two. He looks down at you, his eyes bored into yours with malice, "Mirio you're-" "Shut the fuck up." he snapped.

"You want to know why he left you? Why did your precious little pretty boy leave you?" you were too scared to answer, you didn't get to anyways since he blurted the out the answer in burning rage "Because. I fucking told him to stay away from you. Got it?" Your eyebrows knit together and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, in a blink on eye he had become so different. He had snapped, you felt betrayed. The Mirio you knew would never be this rough with you, but maybe you were to blame. Deep down you knew. You were very much aware. Mirio liked you even after your breakup but you never asked, thinking it was better that way but not in a million years did you ever think that Mirio would snap and come for your soul.

"I fucking beat him up. You know why I did that?" he asked again. His voice was menacing, he was shouting at you and you were scared. "Answer me! You fucking ungrateful bitch!" You  flinched and started whimpering, a weak no left your trembling lips, "It's because you're mine." he spat, he waited for you to say something but you were still trying to process his words. It was a lot to take in, you couldn't believe that Mirio would ever do something like that. You wanted to think this was a joke but no, he was dead serious.

The ray of sunshine, the great hero to be, Mirio Togata was a scumbag, no. He was worse.

You started releasing the situation you were in, there was no doubt, he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you too. The flight or fight instinct kicked in and you tried to free your face from his grasp. After successfully freeing yourself from his chains you got up from the desk and made a run for the door. Mirio stared at you in disbelief, his eyes wide and lips curled upwards he internally laughed at your foolishness. Wasting no time, he quickly got behind you capturing your wrist and pulling you back to his chest. A large hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you securely pinned to his torso.

You were so stupid. Did you seriously think you could get away from him? He is twice your size.

"Where are you going?" he pulled both your hands behind your back and held them there with one hand, the other snaked down under your skirt, "Mirio don't do this. I won't tell anyone. Please let me go." you begged your voice shaky as big, fat teardrops rolled down your cheek. "What will you tell them? They won't believe you and besides," his fingers inched towards your core, you squirmed and wailed. His fingers rubbed against your clothed slit, pressing against your clit sending shameful jolts of pleasure throughout your body. "I will scream," you whispered before breaking into soft sobs. He was going to rape you in your own classroom and there was nothing you could do against it. With no quirk to protect yourself, you knew physically overpowering him was a dream. You just prayed that he would leave you.

"You're gonna' scream?" he scoffed, his tone was cocky- ridiculing you. "Go ahead, scream," his fingers rubbed harder against your clothed cunt as he waited for you to scream. The scream never came and Mirio started, "You're getting wet down here, you know. You like this?" pushing away your panties to the side, he let his finger graze over your sensitive folds a content sigh following right after. "You're really wet. I think I can just slide it in."

He dipped two of his fingers into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "What do you want?" you cried as his huge fingers drilled into your small, tight pussy. "What do I want? I want you to know you're mine. Only mine." he growled in your ear. "But I guess you don't realize that. Do you? Don't worry after I knock you up you won't be able to leave me, maybe then you'll understand." your lips fell agape, and eyes widened threatening to pop right out of your sockets, "N-no pleasee don't do that. P-please-" Mirio pushed you towards the teacher's desk, bending you over it. Your face pressed against the cold wood yet you keep whimpering, begging him to let you free but he doesn't care. He's not listening.

He flips your skirt over leaving your ass a sight to his wretched eyes. He brings his hand down spanking it then pulling away to watch how your plump flesh jiggles, he chuckles. "I should beat this pretty little ass purple and blue," he talks to himself, completely disheartening your cries for help. He smacks your ass until he's satisfied- until your bottom blooms red and his palm stings. Mirio wastes no time in getting behind you, his hand still pinned both of yours behind your back. He slowly releases them, "Now. No funny business," he warns. He knows you wouldn't try anything, you couldn't; not in this state.

One of his hands grips your waist tightly while the other kneads your ass, "Ah shit, look at that." he whispers. "It's beautiful but it's not enough." He is quick to pull your panties down to your thighs and spread your legs open. You hold on to the edges of the desk as you feel his fingers run up your slit and dip into your hole.

"Cute, little cunt. All mine."

His length comes free from its confines and hits his stomach. It's long, hard, and big- so big. You had it impale you before multiple times but it had always been a stretch. His cock was just too big for your tiny pussy! His tip teased your entrance. Your hole drooling over it, he hissed. "I am going to knock you up. You won't be leaving me after that." He pushed inside slowly marveling at how your cunt sucked him up so eagerly, your mouth opened into a silent scream as he bottomed out. He didn't give you time to adjust to his size, he kept rutting his hips. He thrust his cock deep inside you hard and fast, swollen balls slapping against your clit making you moan. The sinful sound of sex: his hips hitting your rear, grunts and moans resonate through the room while you stayed there, under him feeling embarrassed, betrayed, and humiliated. Yet you could not ignore the pleasure he was giving you. His cock hit deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix trying its best to sink past the rim, your cries of agony soon turned into frenzied moans.

You were close to cumming, he could tell by how tightly your precious cunt clenched around his hard length pulling him even deeper, squeezing him trying to milk him for all he's worth. "I feel that..gonna' fill you up," he says in between his grunts. Mirio tightened his grip on your hips as you started squirming beneath him, the coil in your stomach ready to burst and moment. "You're close, baby?" You whined refusing to give in, "Aww, it's fine. Just admit it: you're mine and I'll let you cum." His thrusts slowed down denying to give you satisfaction, you wailed at the loss yet you didn't agree with him. You were to give in, you told yourself but your body didn't agree. It needed Mirio and just like that it had taken over your mind, clouded your mind with nothing but lust and him. As the need for release increased, you screamed. "Ah- fuck. Yes! I am all yours- ah!" he steadied his rhythm and you exploded all over his cock. Creaming around him, your juices flowed down to your legs. Mirio length twitched inside of you, his thrusts became sloppy- he was close.

"Yeah damn fucking right. Good girl." he praised before spilling his seed inside your womb, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out and watched how his cum dripped from your abused pussy only to push it back inside with his finger. "You actually did it..." your voice was meek, head still down and body still bent over the desk. Too weak to get up, you started at the floor beneath you with glassy eyes. Mirio pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you tightly, making sure you don't run away. The hug was warm, in any other case it would have been warm and comforting but not anymore.

"This would not have happened, Y'know. It's your fault for being such a bitch."

Right, of course, you should have been smarter. You should have loved him back when you could have.

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[neighborhoodparker]

Book: Cacoethes

Word count: 2,244

Summary: Draco finds Isobel after the war. But it’s too late.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Cut Scene; was once another short ending option to Cacoethes.

The battle was raging across the Hogwarts ground. She tried not to pay attention to those around her that had fallen - tried to ignore the various shades of house colors laid across the lifeless victims. It looked wrong, beyond wrong, to see fellow students splayed out across the ground, to see them lying mangled, broken, dead on what was once their home grounds. Her heart ached and her lungs burned at the thought of all who she would never get to see again.

She shoved the thoughts down and rearranged her grip on her wand, forcing her tense body to relax - just a tiny bit. She was doing all she could. It was overwhelming, jumping and dancing and bouncing from one stand off to another. She was trying to save everyone she could, throwing curses and spells and even unforgivables. She didn’t care that she was breaking the Wizarding law. She had people to protect. The Ministry would have to understand that she had to do all she could to save the students. She had to give them their futures, had to give them more time to live out their dreams. 

She was beyond overwhelmed. Her body was worn out, running on its last stretch of energy. She was determined to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep taking hits meant for those who looked up to her. There was a small part of her filled with pride at all the houses coming together to fight. It kept her going to know that her fellow students were all fighting to protect each other, to protect their school, to protect their world. She had never been more proud of all the students that snuck into the Room of Requirement to learn how to defend themselves from the war that was creeping across the horizon.

Her adrenaline was starting to wear off. She was beginning to feel the full extent of all the hits she had taken. She was starting to move slower and all of her knowledge was beginning to slowly leave her head. It was a struggle to keep fighting, but it was also a relief for her to see that the war was winding down. They; the students of Hogwarts, their parents, their professors, their Wizarding world supports; were winning. The Death Eaters were retreating, running the opposite direction of those fighting on the right side of the war.

In a split second, she was tossing her arms up - sending a spell to protect a younger year from a Death Eater’s last attempt at ending their lives. Her brain gave her one more spell, allowed her the time and energy to petrify the wretched Death Eater. She sent a faint, tired smile to the young boy before she stumbled. Her knees met the harsh, wet ground. It took her a moment to realize it was wet with blood, her blood, that had been sleeping from the wounds that her body had sustained. Her eyes widened as she uncontrollably watched her wand hit the ground, focusing on her left forearm. The mark. She watched as it stopped moving, as it slowly became what would have been a simple muggle tattoo. They had done it. She tried to choke back a sob as she realized that Harry, the boy she had grown up hearing vehemently about, had succeeded. He had killed the Dark Lord.

She brushed her hands slowly against the damp earth, allowing the soaked dirt to ground her to the world. She was slipping. She could feel it. She was barely holding on, barely forcing her lungs to breathe and her eyes to blink and her heart to beat. The world was blurry, churning, turning and she felt that she would fall into a blissful state of sleep at any moment - sleep she knew she would never wake up from. But she had to find Draco first. She had to say goodbye. 

She mustered up the energy, thought of all her memories with Draco, in order to produce a gleaming silver Dragon. She sent it forth into the ruins of the battlefield, knowing, hoping, and maybe even praying that it would find him, that it would get him to her in time.

The time it took for it to reach him wasn’t something she had the mental capacity to track. She just knew that one second she was slipping in and out of consciousness, barely holding her torso up right. And then in the next, Draco was screaming at her, yelling frantically for Neville - telling those that he ran past that they needed to get Neville to him. Neville knew so much more about healing than he did, and he knew that he needed the other teenager to help him.

She barely registered as he slid onto the ground next to her, pulling her body against his. She recognized that he was warm, that his body felt nice against her cooling skin. That he was pleading with her to talk to him, to wake up more, to stay with him. He was holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her, that he was pressing down on the wounds he could cover with a button up she hadn’t even realized he had taken off. The world was muffled to her, like she was listening to everything while her head had been shoved underwater.

Draco yelled out again, struggling to come up with his own patronus without his wand. His wand had been the reason that they had won the war; Harry had used it to get rid of the main threat. He couldn’t say he wished he hadn’t done it, but he wanted more than anything to have his wand so he could try to heal her in whatever ways he could. The panic that was overcoming his body was paralyzing, making everything feel red hot and tingly and making it hard to breathe. He forced it away, forced himself to try to calm down as her hand gently found its way to his moist cheek. He had started crying.

“Bel, we did it. We won. We can live our lives now. We… we can be free.” He told her, feeling more tears rush down his face. “We can be whoever we want to.”

“You…. you can. . . be a healer. Treat everyone…. Live… for us.” Her voice was quiet, her breathing wheezy and strained. “We…. did it.”

“We can both be healers. We can, well, we can finish our last year here and then work together at Saint Mungo’s and live together and just be…. us.” He choked out, softly brushing hair away from her forehead. He needed Neville to be here now, and it broke his heart further to know that they couldn’t apparate because of Dumbledore’s stupid rules.

She gave him a smile, one that looked so sad and broken and hurt. But her eyes showed no trace of her pain, of her knowledge of what would come next. They radiated pure adoration, showing him how much she truly cared for him. 

“I’ll never leave your side again, Isobel. I’m here, okay? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere ever again. You’ll always have me to fight by you, okay? Just stay here. Don’t leave me. Fuck, don’t leave me. I know you can fight through this. We can live through this, Bel. We can. I know we can. Don’t leave me.” He stumbled over his words, a lump growing in his throat as he felt his heart slowly begin sinking in his chest. He was pleading, begging her to stay with him, to not leave him. She was the one thing he had always had, the one person who always promised to never leave him. He couldn’t live without her. He didn’t want to.

“Hey….” Her voice drew his attention, her hands slowly moving to cover his, the ones covering wounds. “Dra… It’s. . . . It’s okay. Y-you know..? Let . . . Go. And…. and. . . L-l-live..”

“Not without you, Isobel. Not without you. I have so many plans for us, so many things for us to do. You… you can’t leave. Not now.” He was shaking, trembling, trying to stop himself from crashing down, from breaking, from shattering. Trying to stop her from leaving him.

“D-Dra-Draco…,” She shuttered for a moment, struggling to keep talking, to keep conscious. “M-Malfoy. . . I. I lo-love….. you…” 

His heart plummeted as her eyes started fluttering shut, her chest making its way to a paused position. And his heart, it didn’t stop, plummeting through the seemingly endless abyss that was his stomach - shattering, collapsing, crumbling, fragmenting all at once. He couldn’t keep track of the pieces as they scattered throughout his body, his chest igniting in overwhelming pain - completely burning as the pain reached a level he had never experienced before. His lungs stalled as his world did, aching and struggling to take in air as he realized that she was gone. The one person that he had always had, that had always been there, had left him. And there wasn’t anything he could do to bring her back. No magic in their world would be able to coax her back to the land of the living. 

And so he broke, letting his world crumble down around him as his sun left. He hugged her tight to his chest. He didn’t miss how she was like a rag doll, body so willingly following the motions he did. She was gone, and the light that had constantly been in his life was diminished. She was gone. His world tumbled and turned and churned and fell apart as he let out a heart-stopping, blood-curdling scream. She had died and all he felt was waves of drowning agony washing over his entire being. All the things he had planned, all the things they were going to do, were never going to happen. And he couldn’t breathe with those thoughts running in his brain.

His head slowly moved as he felt pressure on his shoulder, breaking down even more as he saw Neville kneeling beside him with tears in his eyes. He clung to Isobel, feeling even more shock hit his body as he felt the way her skin was cooling. It was so easy for him to collapse back into Neville, to allow the fellow teenage boy to hold him and his broken world as everything disintegrated around him. In this moment, it was just him holding her mangled body and Neville trying to anchor him back to a reality he no longer wanted to be in, 

“Draco, you have to let go of her. We have to get her inside.” Neville choked out, trying to loosen the boys grip on his best friend. “We need to take care of your injuries.”

“No,” He cried, his body vibrating with panic that Isobel could have stifled by now. “No. No no no nono nonononono. . . She’s not… she’s not gone, right? Neville, she’s still here, we can bring her back. We can save her. Neville, please. I know, I know she’s not gone. She wouldn’t just leave us like this, she wouldn’t just give up…”

Neville’s heart broke alongside Draco’s as he quietly pried his grip off of Isobel, pulling the deteriorating Slytherin into him. “Draco, we can’t. You know that we can’t. There’s nothing we can do. I’m… Im sorry….”

“I didn’t get to tell her.” He blurted out, his words and voice cracking at the realization. “I didn’t get to tell her! She’ll… she’ll never know… Her last words were that she loved me and she died before I could tell her. I’ll…. I'll never get to say it to her…. S-s-she’ll never kn-kn-know….”

“She knew. Draco, she knew.” Neville gently grasped the face of the panicking boy, making him look at him. “Isobel Ville knew, without a doubt, that you love her with your whole heart. She never doubted for a second how you felt about her. She knew…” 

Draco twisted his body around and threw his arms around Neville’s shoulders, collapsing completely into the Gryffindor’s hold. And Neville clung back, holding just as tightly to him. Neville tried to stay strong for Draco, tried to hold back his own pain because he knew that Draco’s had to be millions, billions, trillions of times worse than his. He had loved her, yes, but not to the extent of level that Draco did. He had to be there to help him through it. 

The Slytherin let the brave lion hold him as he completely broke down, yearning to fall into dreams that he would never want to wake up from. Just so he could see her, be with her, even just one last time. So he could hear her laugh and see her smile and look at her, see the life radiating positively throughout her body. She shone with life in a way that no one else could, bringing light into even the darkest times of his life, offering the world her own sunshine. And it was gone. It had imploded, causing his world to collapse within itself - almost as if his own personal little galaxy had collided with the black hole that was now her life, and had been consumed by the Inky blackness. He wanted just one more moment with her. Just one more small second to tell her how he felt, to hold her and be with her and just soak in her rays one last time. His universe would never be the same without its main source of light.

[turningtummyrubs]

Hi! Prev anon with the Marvel ask here. My fav scenario would be something fluffy and domestic. Loki being an alien could have gotten sick from something harmless to a Midgardian, like a bagel for example. So all day long he tries to hide his stomachache from his SO, until such time the pain's too much and his SO catches on. (Or his SO knew but Loki being Loki, keeps on saying he's fine)

Followed by fluffy, caretaking scene with a nice belly rub and banter. Thank you. 😍😻😍😻

I LOVE your writing. Seriously.

Thank you! You’re the best! And here you go:

There are a lot of things Loki has learned about 21st century Midgard. Like, for example, video games are fun, but only if you’re winning. Fries are magical creations. It’s frowned upon to use a Midgardian baby like a baseball.

What he hasn’t entirely gotten the hang of is food. More specifically, what foods are safe for beings such as himself to eat. Apparently something so harmless as a bagel is capable of wreaking havoc on his insides. It’s humiliating. He’s the God of Mischief, and he can be bested by a circle of bread with a hole in its center! Ugh.

What would his many foes think if they caught wind of this? Oh, don’t bother wasting your namebrand poison on Loki, just feed him a bagel. Fuck that! If Loki’s going to be poisoned, he’s going to be poisoned expensively.

It’s only been about fifteen minutes since he ate the cursed bagel, and his stomach already feels like an Asgardian battlefield. Rolling and raging like a storm-wrought sea.

“Have you decided whether or not you’ll be joining me, Loki?”

Loki scowls at the sound of Stephen’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door for no reason other than that he’s feeling irritable and cranky. But, despite his inner-most wants, he doesn’t snap something cruel or zap Stephen with an energy blast, because he’s trying. To be someone... better. At least marginally.

With one last glimpse at himself in the mirror (slightly more pale-faced than usual, thin-lipped), he steps right through the door and finds himself face-to-face with Stephen.

Stephen smiles beatifically. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I’ll go with you to your wretched house,” Loki says snippily. By ‘wretched house’ he means the New York Sanctum, which he actually finds quite lovely, but would never, ever admit.

They leave the Avengers Compound by foot (Loki was visiting Thor, and Stephen everyone else), because Stephen says he wants to walk around a bit before portalling to the Sanctum. (“It’s such a lovely day.”) Loki wants to violently attack him, but he doesn’t, because people can do hard things.

Normally, despite his stream-of-consciousness complaints, Loki doesn’t mind Midgardian walks much. He enjoys the weather and the birds and, if not the people, then at least the ridiculous things they do. However, a Midgardian walk after the consumption of a bagel is something akin to cruel and unusual torture.

Every blare of a car horn sends a burst of too-bright irritation flaring behind Loki’s eyelids, and every step further upsets his stomach — making it tighten, first, in a strange twisty way, and then loosen out into a hot, churning roil, like a boiling soup.

He grunts slightly at a particularly sharp pang in the center of his stomach, laying a hand flat over his (strange) Midgardian shirt. It’s only a single bagel, but Loki swears he can almost feel each individual bite working its way through his intestines — causing as much wreckage as it can along the way. If Loki weren’t so busy being in pain, he might be impressed by its tactics.

Stephen pauses and looks back over his shoulder, brow wrinkling. “Loki?”

Loki schools his face. “I’m fine.”

Stephen raises his eyebrows slightly. “I didn’t ask.”

Loki takes a single, deep breath and storms forward with clenched fists, Stephen’s laughter at his back.

— — —

Hours later, in the Sanctum, Loki is still feeling just as poorly. No, worse! What kind of ridiculous sugars and chemicals do Midgardians put in bagels? Sewage? Lava? Cyanide?

He stretches out on one of Stephen’s couches, and then curls back into himself when the movement only exacerbates the unhappy roiling violating his belly. If he lies on his side just right and stays perfectly still—

Nope. Still hurts.

He tries to focus, instead, on the quiet sound of pages turning as Stephen reads in the other room. He’s been reading for the past two hours, and, normally, Loki would be demanding attention by now, but presently, he’s just thankful Stephen hasn’t noticed his distraught state.

As a cramp blossoms dangerously beneath Loki’s navel, he slides his hand beneath his shirt and gives a little compression with his palm, grimacing at the electric-like twinge the touch provokes. A soft noise of discomfort leaves him as he shifts to his back.

With a heavy sigh, Loki stares at the ceiling (tall and carved with all sorts of odd symbols) and thinks of Stephen instead. Tall with knife-like cheekbones and eyes like silver fish scales. Long fingers and impeccable fashion sense (for a Midgardian). Decently wealthy, stern-voiced—

Standing over Loki.

“Did I summon you with my mind?”

Stephen looks at Loki with concern. “What?”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “Never mind.”

“Alright...” The couch shifts as Stephen sits and pulls Loki’s feet into his lap. If Loki could lap up his warmth like a cat to cream, he would. “Well, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Loki’s eyes narrow, and he snaps, “I haven’t committed any heinous acts toward any mortals for a week now!”

Stephen’s voice is patient and faintly amused as he says, “I know, Loki. That’s not what I meant.”

Loki tries not to squirm as his intestines give a coiled spasm, the pain more acute than the past cramping. “Then, no, I have nothing to tell you, sorcerer.”

“Hm.” Stephen stands, gently setting Loki’s legs back down on the couch cushion. “Alright, then.”

Despite his best efforts, Loki’s hand flies out to wrap around Stephen’s wrist. “You don’t have to go,” he says plaintively.

Stephen smirks. “I was just grabbing my book. I’ll be right back.”

He’s true to his word, and returns only a short minute later to resume his former position, but, while Loki appreciates the solid heat of him, he now has to work doubly hard to obscure his pain.

Every roil and turn and cramp feels intensified now, like the bagel’s suddenly decided to take up steroids, and Loki is fed up with the small pinch of nausea lingering sharply beneath his ribs that just won’t go away. He brings a few fingers up to rub idly at it, and nearly growls at the abrupt influx of acid-hot stomach bile that zings in his throat.

It’s twenty minutes later that Loki can’t take it any more. What started as a little throbbing pang low in his belly has now blown into a whirlwind of a cramp, pulsating quickly and dreadfully from his waist to his ribs.

Bagels should be a cardinal sin.

A soft, breathless groan leaves Loki’s lips.

Stephen gently shuts his book and sets it on the coffee table, giving Loki absurd deja vu as he leans over him again. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to tell me something, Loki?”

Loki sighs through his teeth and throws a careless arm over his eyes, caught out. “My stomach hurts.”

“Ah,” Stephen says, wasting a conversation’s worth of sarcasm on one syllable. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Loki whines, and Stephen chuckles quietly and presses a warm hand to Loki’s stomach beneath his shirt. It’s with steady, precise movements that Stephen massages — fingers twitching faintly but stable as they soothe in small circles.

Loki goes limp beneath his touch, groaning lightly as the cramps in his belly are cowed into submission by Stephen’s firm hands. He’s reminded of both of Stephen’s titles as relief floods his mind: doctor and sorcerer. Both fitting, Loki thinks.

Sliding the heel of his palm carefully into the worst of the spasms and working in productive patterns, Stephen says, “You don’t need to hide these things from me, you know.”

“I know...” Loki says sullenly. He exhales gratefully as Stephen rubs a circle and the explosive pain ebbs and shifts to a mere gastric bubbling. The small rumbles aren’t exactly comfortable, but they’re manageable, and Loki can live with that.

Still absently massaging Loki’s stomach, Stephen says, “Better?”

Loki nods, lacing his fingers with Stephen’s on top of his abdomen. “Better...”

[nav-arre]

These Birds You Cannot Cage

A piece for FebuWhump 2021, day 3: Imprisonment. 3549 Words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated T! Tags for violence, broken bones, vomiting, and Nilfgaard being the fuckin’ worst.

Sodden burns and Yennefer runs. Staggers, really, though it’s hard to tell the difference in her state. She can hear nothing but white noise like a distant blaze roaring. Occasionally her vision blacks out and when she comes to she’s somewhere completely different and has not stopped moving. She can’t. She tries to reach inside herself to draw from her well of power, but—

For the first time since learning of its existence, of putting a name to the fire inside her, her chaos is depleted. It’s worse than worn out, it’s so empty a part of her begins to assume it’s gone forever. If she had time to feel an emotion— dread, rage, fear, hopelessness— she might. But all she has is her body pushing her forward, strength and speed she didn’t know she could muster after this level of exertion, towards something shaped vaguely like freedom. Safety.

Honestly, she wasn’t really sure what freedom was anymore. Once, it had been a young man who watched her grow into herself, made her feel like anything was possible. Another time, it had been an academy that promised it could help her craft her chaos. Later, it had been proximity to wealth, riches, royalty. After that, it had been her, alone, making her own rules on her own terms.

And then, of course, freedom had come to her in the form of a world-weary witcher, amber eyes, and the unspoken promise to never tie one another down. Never clip the other’s wings.

Freedom was meant to be choice.

Freedom, Yennefer thought, was a beautiful, wretched lie.

When she finally stumbles, she crashes on the ground in an unceremonious heap. Her head swims and when she tries to rise up, push on, she finds her arms shake too fiercely and betray her. The white noise in her ears begins to fade and as she tries to focus on the ground in front of her she sees them. Boots, surrounding her. Shadows, looming.

They stand stock still. Someone is yelling, “Now is your chance, you idiots—” and then “She’s empty. Poor little mage used up her powers… but she’s still useful to us. Grab her, now.”

Freedom may have been a lie but actual imprisonment… that was something else entirely. Yennefer pushes herself away, bumping into what’s either a tree or somebody's legs, and hears laughter dribble out from the guards. She nearly wretches in disgust.

Next is the feeling of hands (she thinks it’s dozens, must be, but it may only be four,) gruff and far too tight. They wrench her off the ground and her vision is too blurred to make out any of their faces.

And just when she tries to steady her head and meet her captors face on, her vision swims again and consciousness slips away.

x

Yennefer wakes and immediately wretches what little she has in her stomach into a bucket next to her.

She’s cuffed in dimitrium, and everything feels so wrong. The floor is grimy, and as soon as she has a moment to breathe she heaves, pulls against her binds like she has even a chance of escaping.

“Thank fuck.”

Of all the voices she had to hear right now—

Yennefer lifts her head, tosses some hair out of her face to see better and there, directly across from her, is the continent’s most irritating bard. She groans.

“Mmmmm, yeah, not my choice of company either, but thank you for that,” he says. She gives him a stare. He looks… messy. Hair grown out a bit, stubble on his face, dark circles under his eyes. His shirt, which may have once been a cream color but was now a rather unfortunate motley of filth, is opened low enough to see a few dark bruises peeking out. There's a long scar on his neck, healed, but concerning nonetheless.

“But you were… really out there for a while. You alright? Relatively, I mean.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes.

“I’m in a prison cell. Actually, I’m in a prison cell with you, which is worse. There not much relatively to it.”

“Listen Yennefer, I don’t like you either but so long as we’re here together we might as well not be at each other’s throats. I love a good drama as much as the next bard but I don’t have the energy to fight both you and them.”

He’s not bouncing his leg as he so often does, and she wonders if there are bruises there too. Wonders how deep they run.

“Fine,” she says. “Only so long as we’re stuck. How long have you been here?”

Without the use of his hands, Jaskier’s taken to using his head to gesticulate. It looks absolutely nonsensical. “Oh,” he says after a few moments, “Three of four months?” Yennefer’s eyes bulge. “What month is it now?”

She tells him, and his head tips back in laughter. “Oh, okay, lovely. More like 6, then. Ah, how time flies when you’re being held against your will!”

Yennefer frowns. “And he hasn’t… come for you?”

Jaskier’s expression darkens, and he shakes his head. “Can you do that mind thing?” He whispers. She shakes her head.

“Not with dimitrium on me.”

Jaskier sighs. “I’m not saying anything about him, not out loud, not in here. Though, they said their mage will be seeing me next, so I don’t know how long that will matter for.”

Yennefer frowns, and thinks. They should be able to communicate this quietly without the guard's understanding. They’re not nearby, at least, and there are none likely smart enough to realize what they’re doing if they’re smart about it. “The mountain?”

“What? I— Oh, I see: Yes.” He catches on quickly.

“And then the two of you…?”

He shakes his head. “Just me.”

“Just you?” He'd left the mountain alone?

He hums in agreement. “And nothing since.” That'd been over a year ago now, and he hadn't seen Geralt in all that time?

“Idiot,” she mutters. “He tore his whole life to shreds.”

Jaskier shrugs, and looks… truly downtrodden, for the first time. She could see the months of wear against him. “I’m far from his whole life. That’s more of your specialty.”

Yennefer snorts. “Not really. And not by choice, apparently.”

“Would you be?” He asks and seems genuinely curious. There’s no bite to it. Like he really wants to hear her opinion. “If you had the choice?”

It’s an honest question, and she realizes she’s never stopped to think about an honest answer to it without being clouded by anger. She doesn’t like what this bard is doing to her already— what right did he have to make her feel important?

“Maybe if he’d given it,” Yennefer says after a second. She doesn’t like that it took even that long to consider it. “Taking away my choice takes away any goodwill we had, though.”

Jaskier nods. “Makes sense,” he says. “Can’t imagine an eagle likes its wings being clipped.” He sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. It strikes her that he doesn’t sound pleased. Of anyone, shouldn’t he be happy for her misfortune in love with the witcher? His witcher?

Well. Their witcher, she supposed. She hated the implications.

There’s silence. There’s silence, with Jaskier. As if things didn’t already feel dismal and strange enough. It was like a stream suddenly going silent. It was supposed to make noise. She stares at the scar on his neck and wonders.

It feels like the walls are going to fall down around her as she lets the reality sink in. There’s likely no getting out of this, she’s just here, they’re both just here, and unless someone on the outside does something, they’re likely to be there until her chaos eats her alive, or one of them is otherwise killed.

She wants to hear the steady stream of his voice. She wonders where his lute is. She tries to picture something to take her out of the place she’s stuck, the four walls that may end up as her casket.

“You’re not going to… sing something? Or whatever it is you do?” What had stopped the bird from singing? (Was that a worse fate than clipped wings, or the same?)

Jaskier opens his eyes to look at her and it feels like he’s seeing something she doesn’t even see in herself. It’s uncomfortable. He closes his eyes again.

“I haven’t sung,” he says softly, “in nearly 6 months.”

They’re there for weeks.

“Do you have any way to get out of here?” Jaskier asks late one evening when they both can’t sleep.

“Maybe, but only if I got these cuffs off me,” she admits. “Even then, it’d be a gamble. And if you’re still cuffed as well, I’m not sure I could do both. My chaos is… broken.”

There are a few beats of quiet. She wonders if he’s somehow fallen asleep. Then,

“I asked if you had a way out of here, Yennefer.”

Ah. She can hear his soft smile. Shit. That wasn’t what he’d meant? Was that not— did she really just assume him into her escape plans? Of all people?

“I assumed you meant—”

“Listen,” he says, “assume away. But when it comes time… don’t let me slow you down.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she doesn’t.

She doesn’t sleep, that night.

“Do you hate him?” he asks another night.

“Yes,” she says, and everything aches. “Sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

She nods. “And you?”

He nods back. “Only sometimes.”

The days slip and fall together.

This is what it feels like to be in a cage:

Her bones feel like lead, her mind feels like lead. The dimitrium weighs down something inside her, too, and it’s even more difficult to stomach the gruel they serve day in and day out. The cell is dark and cavernous, large enough to fit fifteen more prisoners at least, but it seems to be reserved for the two of them. Small sounds echo for ages and threaten to drive her mad.

(It feels like a door locked from the outside, a handle too high to reach.)

This is what it feels like to have a cage inside of you:

Yennefer had a scream inside her, ripping at her insides, desperate to get out. Her chaos, budding slowly, had never felt so oppressive and unnatural before. She knows if she goes too long with these cuffs on her, it’ll explode outward, and she knows Nilfgaard is willing to play that game of chance.

(It feels like knowing you’ve already ruined everything.)

This is what it feels like to be in a cage with Jaskier:

The bard was quieter than normal, but when he talked it was a mile a minute— when they let themselves argue or hiss at each other, whenever they would banter or bitch. She could lose herself in his stupid, often unfairly funny, labyrinthian trains of thought. She often did. She suspected that was what he meant to happen. He still doesn’t sing.

(It feels like being handed a key.)

The guards are cruel. When they pull Jaskier away, he goes softly, sometimes throwing a quip at them but more often allowing it without a word. She tries to pull attention away, tries to make an ordeal of it, but they barely look at her, even when she screams bloody murder. And every time, he comes back bloody and bruised, sometimes with a bone broken, and every time he fights it in near silence. She complains about the meaningless drama of the powerful people in her circles to pass the time, and occasionally he smiles through his pain, or gives a laugh behind quiet sobs.

When they pull Yennefer away… it’s not nearly as often as they haul away the bard, but every time, he snaps at their heels like a dog. Now there was a bard she recognized, running his mouth and saying everything he ought not to. Once, a guard twists her sending her falling to the ground, and feels a bone in her hand snap. She expects Jaskier to make a fuss, but he’s quiet.

“I’ll kill you myself,” he says softly to the guard, and somehow she feels it’s a promise he’d do anything make good on.

x

“Yennefer,” Jaskier says one morning, low and careful. “Would you be able to do it today?”

She closes her eyes, concentrates. She can feel her chaos locked within her, scratching at her, desperate and hungry. But how much she has to burn, there’s no way of knowing. It’s something, though. She looks up at the bard, his gaze on her steadily.

“I could try.”

He nods. “You’re going to think I’m mad, but— I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

They stare at each other. Somewhere, a door slams.

“Of course not, obviously not, have you met me? But it’s an idea, which means it’s got a better chance at working than all of our other nonexistent, well crafted and reliable ideas.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes, but she finds she’s… smiling again; he has a talent for that. When she glances back at him he’s got a small grin as well, but he’s biting it back. She wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.

“Will you at least tell me what it is?”

“Nope! Actually, no; need to preserve the surprise, keep everything feeling authentic. Crucial to a major performance. Possibly my most major to date, considering the stakes."

“Fine. But if things go wrong, I’ll carve you open with a rusty nail and replace your liver with a salamander.”

“You know, I could also just take this back!” he says, “I could undo the idea! Idea gone, I like my liver where it is, it’s very hard to operate with a liver on the outside of one’s body, thank you.”

Their smiles are almost real now even in this false reality of a cell. She can really say anything to him, right now, and he won’t look at her like damaged goods. Then again, once they’re out, he could very well attempt to discard her. She’d beat him to the punch.

It hurt to think about. Wasn’t she above this, by now? Above her own heart?

She looks at the bard, disheveled, smiling, and with something that looks like excitement in his eyes, and sighs.

“Best of luck,” she says, and she doesn’t know who she’s talking to anymore.

x

The lone guard comes later than usual, and Jaskier is so full of anxious energy she thinks he might burst. He’s been making low humming noises all day, like he’s warming up for a performance— a bit dramatic, she thinks, but she’s not going to fault him his coping mechanisms while they were restrained in a Nilfgaardian prison. If they made it out, however, she made no promises.

(The thought of an After, where she saw this stupid, bumbling bard, spoke to him willingly and without malice for his general incompetence, disgusted her. She wanted it so, so badly.)

The regular soft thudding of boots down the corridor made both their heads snap up to the door. Jaskier took a breath in and closed his eyes.

“You ready for your pièce de résistance?” Yennefer jokes, straightening her back and lifting her chin. No sense in letting them see her any less dignified than she already was.

Jaskier doesn’t meet her eyes and reply until the boots are just outside the door. “I am,” he says, and it’s so deadly serious Yennefer reels for a moment.

The door opens, and the guard that comes in is the same that usually comes to drag them off; today the oaf saunters in and makes sure to wipe some grime of undetermined origin off the sole of his shoe and onto her already ruined dress. She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, gods,” she mutters sarcastically, “what will I do now with a stained dress.”

He bends forward to grip her chin, and she finds herself less than an inch away from his face— it looks like hatred. Warm breath from his nose hits her face and she can hear Jaskier’s chains rattling as he strains forward, wanting to rip the two apart.

“Better play nice, doll,” he says softly, a voice like cheaply cut gravel, “or I’ll make it so you can’t play at all.”

His breath smells like—she makes a face.

“If you let me out of these cuffs,” she says, sweetly as she can manage, giving a flutter of her lashes, “I could help you with your… dental hygiene?”

She expects the slap. What she does not expect, is Jaskier’s reaction.

“This is so fucking boring.”

Yennefer frowns and the guard frowns deeper before turning.

“Excuse me?”

If she hadn’t known to expect something from him today, she would have missed the quiet fire in his eyes. He sits back against the wall, looking otherwise nonchalant.

“You do this every other day! I want some real fucking entertainment.”

The guard snarls and turns back to Yennefer, reaching to undo her cuffs from the wall.

“Well, fine then. If you won’t provide any, I will.”

Oh, fuck. She knew exactly what this was.

“When a humble bard, graced a ride along…”

His voice is rough with disuse and lower than she’s used to hearing it. For a moment, she thinks it sounds like a million birds flying, like a key in a door, like the most beautiful sound in the world.

“CAN IT, bard. You know what happened last time you sung.”

“With Geralt of Rivia!” he shouts more than sings, “Along came this song!” His voice echoes throughout the complex, hitting them from a million directions. The guard yanks Yennefer to her feet and looks deeply, deeply angry.

“From when the White Wolf fought, a silver tongued devil—” The guard takes a few strides to loom over the bard, a wild look in his eyes, pulling Yennefer with him. The echoing was overwhelming already, Jaskier projecting with full force. The guard bent to get his face close to Jaskier’s. He’d been right— she thought he was mad, even now as she realized his move.

“His army of elves—”

“You’re done with, you fucking—”

“With his HOOVES—” Jaskier sang, and threw his foot up, hitting the guard squarely between the legs. He dropped the keyring to their cuffs and fell to the ground with a groan. “—did they revel,” Jaskier cackles as he lets the words flow out.

Yennefer seizes on the opportunity, twisting to grab up the keys even with her hands behind her. She takes delight in stomping on the same spot Jaskier had a moment before, watching the guard roll over in agony. The bard keeps singing, even louder now, and the guard’s cries are dwarfed easily.

She fiddles with the keys until finally, she unlocks herself. Her chaos ripples out, and already she hears footsteps thundering toward them. It feels like she’s grown wings, like her chest has opened, and she realizes after a moment she’s screaming in relief, arms thrown wide, head tipped back. She shakes it off, lets her power crackle through her. By now, Jaskier had gotten to the chorus.

“O’ Valley of Plenty, oh— RUN!” he shouts, and she smiles so wide she feels her lips crack. She reaches out a hand and prays she can still focus herself after all this time.

Jaskier’s cuffs explode.

She grabs at him, and throws out a portal just as the footsteps clattering to their door get close, and she turns to see a dozen guards and a mage— not Fringilla, thank the gods— rushing toward them. She’s still got something left, so with Jaskier still singing by her side, she caves in the ceiling above them and lets the bard pull them into the portal.

x

On the other side, it’s approaching evening. She can see a mountain, in the corner of her eye. The bard, looking frantic, takes up most of her field of vision. Breathing is difficult at best, and she feels him adjust her against a tree. She coughs, and breath returns to her slowly. He kneels beside her, and lays his head against her shoulder. It’s the first kind touch she’s felt in weeks; the first for him in over half a year. Yennefer leans her head against his and soon he's wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Maybe, she thinks deliriously, freedom could just be a warm embrace at just the right moment.

“Not bad,” she says when her chest moves more easily, “for being out of practice nearly 7 months.”

He laughs. It’s wonderful.

“Not bad for someone with ‘broken’ chaos.” He leans back to look at her, and then at their surroundings. “I…” he frowns. “I know where we are.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t.”

“It’s. Ah. We’re in Kaedwen. Near Ard Carraigh. It’s near Kaer Morhen,” he gives by way of explanation.

“Of course,” she groans.

“Let's... let's get to an inn, I'll find us a room. Rooms? We’ll figure out payment later, but you need rest. If you’re willing to extend the peace treaty a little further, that is?”

She looks at him and chooses to believe it's chaos that puts her heart in a viselike grip and squeezes, not something in his eyes.

“I can go a little further,” Yennefer says, and lets her eyes fall closed as a breeze kisses her cheek.