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happylittledrabbles · 3 years ago

Text

Like a Virgin

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Erwin Smith

Rating: 18+ (DNI IF A MINOR)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 9K

AO3

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Levi is very sexually frustrated from all of Erwin's wandering touches and wants to know for sure whether Erwin is into him or not. He questions the commander on if he has a woman he wants to have sex with, and Erwin doesn't reply. That's the moment Levi finds out Erwin is a virgin. He proposes to "help" Erwin learn how to have sex before he goes on to have sex with the woman of his dreams.

Shenanigans ensue.

—

“Wine or champagne?”

Levi eyed the two bottles in front of him, his eyes then sliding to the blond man behind the desk, his uniform a size too small for him. But he knew that Erwin liked it like that since it showed off his body. He’d never admit to it, though.

“Wine,” Levi said ultimately, motioning to the opaque bottle. Erwin obliged with a nod of the head and leaned forward, the leather chair groaning underneath his shifting weight. He took the glass and let a bit of wine dribble into it, handing it to the black-haired man to taste.

“Didn’t know you were a sommelier,” Levi remarked with a scoff, swirling the wine in the cup and giving it a sniff before tipping it to his lips. He smacked them together, the oaky wine reminiscent of the nights when he and Erwin would get too drunk after a successful mission—their arms around each other, their hands roaming to places that only lovers should touch…

“Are you drunk already, Levi? Your face is flushed,” Erwin asked, breaking Levi out of his daydreams. He reached across the desk, brushing his fingers across Levi’s cheek (as if that would make the problem better) (it absolutely didn’t). “You only had one sip. Are you sick?”

“Get your hands off me, old man,” Levi grumbled, swatting Erwin’s hand away even though he desperately wanted to grab it and lead it to the places where his mind went a few moments ago. His blush had worsened tenfold, causing Erwin to laugh and raise a caterpillar brow in pleased confusion. He took Levi’s cup and filled it up the rest of the way before handing it back.

“I’m not that old,” he retorted, standing up from his office chair to lean on the edge of the desk with the cup of wine he poured himself in hand. He kicked the tip of Levi’s boot playfully before taking a sip of the wine, wincing away from the cup. “Wow, this is pretty strong.”

He was far too close for comfort to Levi—he could practically smell that warm, masculine cologne he peppered on himself every day. It seemed as if every sight, every smell, every taste, every touch...everything was reminding him of the fact that he was horribly frustrated. Sexually frustrated, that is. Erwin was too much of a dunce to ever figure out that Levi wanted to take him apart and put him back together in a fit of pleasure. He’d never figure out that those lingering touches when they had dinner together weren’t a mistake, but a silent plea to never let go. No, Erwin’s nickname was—lovingly—meathead in Levi’s mind. It was getting to the point that all of Erwin’s playful touches and sexual remarks seemed mocking, as if Erwin was saying, “Yeah, you’ll never have me. But every woman on the Scout Regiment wants to fuck me. And I’ll fuck them, too.”

That gave Levi an idea.

“Speaking of old,” Levi continued, taking another sip of wine. If he was to have this conversation, he’d much rather carry on drunk so that he could blame it on the alcohol if—when—it went south. “It’s about time you get a wife. Any women on the Scout Regiment looking like a nice piece of ass?”

“Levi, how crude,” Erwin admonished, his eyes widening in surprise. “You shouldn’t refer to women that way.” Levi would have missed the slight blush rising in Erwin’s cheeks if he hadn’t already been staring straight into his soul for any hint of a reaction at the mention of women.

“Ah, sorry,” Levi apologized, thankful that Erwin wasn’t the type to reply to that gross comment with an equally grosser response. “Well, anyway, we’ve been in close quarters with them for a while. Any lucky ladies get a little closer?”

Erwin uncrossed and crossed one leg over the other as if he couldn’t decide where to put his legs, taking a heavy swig of the wine. It seemed as if Erwin had the same idea as his friend: get as drunk as possible to answer this line of questioning. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Erwin, don’t play dumb with me,” Levi said, leaning his elbows forward on his knees and sipping his wine until there was less than half left. “You can tell me. I’m your best friend. At least I hope.”

An unreadable look crossed Erwin’s face—what Levi wouldn’t give to crawl inside his mind right now. The blond ran a heavy hand down his face, letting out a groan that made Levi sit back up as straight as a pole. His hands drifted into his lap in case the little friend in his pants made an appearance, as it so often did when he was alone with Erwin, getting drunk like this.

“You…you are my best friend. Although that sounds a little juvenile.” Erwin chuckled softly before rolling his eyes. “Why are you so interested in my private life? For the record, it’s highly unethical for me to sleep with members of the Regiment.”

Levi tossed his head back in laughter. “We’re all adults. Shit happens.”

Erwin balked before shying away behind his desk, turning his back to Levi. His back was tense—the muscles surrounding his scapula rose through his uniform as he crossed his arms firmly. “You shouldn’t refer to making love that way.”

Levi stood up, tracing the edge of the desk with his fingers. Erwin was pissing him off. Why was he so defensive of his answers? Usually, men would jump to brag about their experiences at the mere insinuation of having sex with women. Meanwhile, he acted as if he’d never had sex before and was avoiding the question as much as possible. Levi just wanted to know if those lingering stares or tender touches meant something more, and he needed Erwin to tell him that he was taken so that he could be turned down without making a fool out of himself.

“’Making love’? You’re a big ol’ softie, aren’t you?” Levi sat on the desk as he watched the muscles of Erwin’s back tell the story his face was hiding. He polished off the last of the wine in his cup and set it gently down on the table. He kept his eyes on Erwin’s back, biting his lip and hesitating before finally saying, “It’s like you’ve never had sex at all.”

It was supposed to be a joke, one that would make Erwin splutter about to defend himself and spill all his sexual experiences. Levi was illiterate at reading Erwin’s facial expressions but had an advanced degree in literacy in reading his body language. He thought it’d be laughable to anybody to insinuate Erwin had never had sex. After all, anybody who met the man had hearts glowing in their eyes. But his shoulders hiking up to his ears, both of which promptly turned pink, and his arms quickly wrapping around himself were an obvious confirmation of Levi’s suspicions.

Levi was far too surprised to say anything or even move. His jaw went slack as Erwin shifted his body weight from one foot to another uncomfortably. The tension in the room was palpable, dripping from the ceiling and coating each man in a layer of unease. Erwin was a man of honesty. He’d never outright lie unless it’d reduce panic among the population or his cadets. He’d never lie to somebody of his rank, least of all Levi. So, the most he could do was stay quiet in the face of the accusation. If he stayed silent, he wouldn’t be lying, but he wouldn’t have to talk about it.

Except, Levi wouldn’t take silence as a complete answer.

“Erwin,” he pressed, the chair groaning as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He laced his fingers together as a hammock for his chin, cocking his head at Erwin’s statuesque figure. “Are you serious? You’ve never had sex?”

Erwin flinched at the claim, and he turned to the side, the lamplight creating a halo around his profile. His aquiline nose and thin lips were put on prominent display, and it took everything Levi had to not grab his face and turn it to face him. He needed to see what Erwin was thinking. He needed to parse out what the wrinkles in his face meant, what each flick of the eye signified. This discovery was the last thing he expected. He expected the secret to the Titans be discovered before Erwin’s more-than-intact virginity.

Erwin’s eyes were set on the floor. “I…it just never happened—"

“You’re approaching middle age, Erwin! What the hell do you mean?” Levi finally moved toward Erwin, grabbing his bicep and whirling the blond to face him. “You’ve never had one girlfriend? One woman you've liked?” He paused. “Have you even had your first kiss?”

“Of course I have!” Erwin was finally animated, and he tossed Levi’s grip off him and stepped back. “My Lord, Levi, you think so lowly of me.”

“Erwin, you are a fully grown, extremely attractive man who hasn’t had sex yet. People have flung themselves at you for years.” Levi tried to find another explanation for his shock, but all that came out was stutters and word vomit. He truly was at a loss for words.

Erwin pursed his lips before catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just haven’t met the right person yet,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, I-I have, I simply…don’t know how they feel about me.”

Levi tried to catch Erwin’s eye, but the blond was resolute on keeping his gaze on a particular swirl in the hardwood.

“You’re kidding,” Levi scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’ve been waiting all this time because you’re scared to admit your feelings? We’re on the brink of death every day, Erwin. We’re going on a mission tomorrow. Sure, it’s a run-of-the-mill mission, but you never know what could happen. One moment you’re there, the next, you’re being crunched on by a Titan like potato chips. I think you’ll survive a little confession.”

Erwin turned his body completely to face Levi, catching the shorter man off guard with the sudden confrontation. “Well, what about you? What’s your entire sexual history? I can’t be the only one on trial here.”

Levi shrugged. “The Underground is an interesting place. Prostitutes are very forgiving for your first time. They give you a discount.” He laughed at the pained expression that crossed Erwin’s face and waved his previous statement away. “I’m kidding. There were some cute girls down there. And then here…well, I got around as I rose the ranks.” He deliberately left out the part where he fucked and got fucked by plenty of men, deciding that was too forward. He needed Erwin to come to him first.

Erwin braced himself on the edge of the desk once Levi finished recounting his sexual tales, his knuckles turning white with how tightly he was gripping it. Levi’s eyes fell onto the other’s hand, the veins and bones in his hand rising above his skin, causing his mouth to go dry. Was this the right thing to do—to ask Erwin about his love life? Wouldn’t he be disappointed when Erwin told him all about the sweet woman he was in love with, the woman he wanted to lose his long-overdue virginity to? Especially after all those yearning gazes shared between them, the times when Erwin draped a blanket over him after he passed out on top of his desk, the handmade teas and horrible cookies (but they tasted perfect because Erwin made them)? Suddenly, Levi wanted desperately to renege on the topic of conversation.

He was about to ditch the entire thing when Erwin cleared his throat, his face pinkening. The lamplight couldn’t lie; the commander was actually getting embarrassed.

“But…what if they’re disappointed? I should’ve…done it…a while ago. I should be good at it.” Erwin covered his face with his hand, the other still digging its nails into the wood desk.

Levi’s whole mindset changed then. He could work with this. He could…do something with this. He had a brilliant idea.

“Men your age and older still can’t fuck right,” he said softly, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he slowly approached the commander. “With how caring you are, I’m sure you’ll do better on your first time than any man who’s had sex a million times.”

Erwin’s blush worsened, but instead of bashfulness, it seemed as if he was surprised. “You think I’m caring?”

Levi hesitated. “Well, yes. You do everything in your power to protect your cadets.” Now, time for the hardest part of the plan. He swallowed thickly before sliding his hand across the table, his fingers meeting Erwin’s before sliding on top of the back of his hand. His eyes flicked from their enjoined hands to the panicked blue eyes in front of him, analyzing them for any sort of resistance. “And you do everything to protect me. So, if you want…I can teach you how to fuck. Before, you know, you go and have sex with the right person.”

His eyes fell to the floor after he finished speaking, disappointment setting in. Sure, if Erwin agreed to this, he’d get to fuck the love of his life and finally see him in his true, pleasure-fueled element. He’d probably even get closer to him. But this was all a precursor to Erwin going out to “make love” to the woman he actually liked, and Levi would have to watch from the sidelines with a pained smile as they settled down and had beautiful children. Sure, Levi wanted to fuck Erwin. But he wanted to love him, too. He wanted a life with him—as much as a life within the walls could afford. And he wanted Erwin to love him back.

Erwin was silent, but he didn’t move his hand, nor his eyes. His eyes stayed on their hands, evaluating, dissecting, inspecting. Finally, he inhaled sharply, causing Levi to inadvertently tighten his grip on Erwin’s hand.

“You’d be willing to teach me?” he repeated. Levi nodded. Neither of the men was looking at each other. They didn’t have the courage to, even as full-grown adults. “Physically, you mean? Not with a chalkboard?”

Levi’s next move was a surprise to him, too; it was as if he was watching his own body from afar as he gripped Erwin’s wrist and flung him into his desk chair before settling in his lap, his legs snug between Erwin’s thighs and the arms of the chair. Erwin’s thighs provided a wonderful seat: they were big and strong, the muscle providing the perfect padding for Levi to sit back and still reach the blond’s flabbergasted face. His hand gripped Erwin’s tie and brought him closer, the tips of their noses kissing.

“Does this answer your question?” he murmured, and Erwin quickly nodded, looking like an obedient puppy in the hands of his equal.

His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze dropped to Levi’s lips. “When will the lesson begin?”

Oh, you fucker, Levi thought before diving in and massacring the lips he’d been dreaming about for far too many years. He never in a million years expected Erwin to accept his advances, and yet, unbelievably, it was happening now, in front of him, and not all in his head. He didn’t have time to process the fact that he was kissing his best friend, and that his best friend was reciprocating (with tongue). He had accepted that this was a dream, and he’d treat it that way until it was confirmed that it was real life—presumably after they’d both finished their “lesson”.

Erwin was an extremely good kisser. Whoever he’d shared his first kiss with evidently taught him well, or he was experienced in that department, or he was a fast learner. Or all three. Whatever it was, all he knew was that just a kiss was getting him hot and heavy. He sighed into the kiss when he felt Erwin’s hands on his back and hip, big enough to span from one shoulder blade to the other and for his palm to cover Levi’s entire hipbone. Unwittingly, Levi bucked his hips in Erwin’s palm, trying to get closer to his burning hot touch, only to elicit a delicious groan from the other.

“Fuck.” Erwin bit down on Levi’s bottom lip, his hand gripping onto the back of Levi’s shirt as if he were hanging on for life.

Levi was on fire. The kiss was like a drug. It was nothing like the drugs peddled in the Underground; no, it was far stronger. It was deadly because he would rather sacrifice his lungs than come up for air.

“Levi,” Erwin all but growled, causing Levi to grind his hips down in reply. All that did for the commander was make his eyes roll back and call out another “Levi,” except this time, his voice was soaked in need.

“Oh, what you do to me, Erwin,” Levi whispered. He ground his hips down again, making Erwin see stars. The fronts of their pants were equally and painfully hard at this point, and if it weren’t for their pesky clothing getting in the way, Erwin would’ve finished a long time ago. Levi relished in the feeling of Erwin’s hardness pressed against his inner thigh, making sure to give it ample attention whenever he moved his hips because it gave him the perfect reaction from Erwin: a drawn-out moan that left Levi lightheaded.

Levi wasted no time in tossing Erwin’s tie aside and ripping open his shirt, the buttons popping off and clattering on the floor. The clattering did nothing to distract him from Erwin’s muscular chest, however. He’d seen Erwin shirtless before, of course. Living in such close quarters, they’d oftentimes had to change in the same room. Levi began to wonder if Erwin looked at him the same way he had admired the blond; his broad chest, imposing upon the other males in the room as if to say “I know I’m stronger than you, and you do, too,” his bedhead locks hanging limply in front of his coarse eyebrows when they’d been woken up far too early, the gray sweatpants they wore during training that might as well have been lingerie. They left little to the imagination, and Levi was about to find out if the bulge he’d have to pry his eyes away from every day lived up to its potential.

Erwin slipped his hands up Levi’s shirt hesitantly at first, but when Levi leaned into the touch with another whirl of the hips, his tender touches turned ravenous. Levi’s shirt was also not spared from their hungry love affair, joining Erwin’s torn shirt on the floor. Erwin’s lips detached from Levi’s and reattached to his neck, suckling on the soft skin until Levi was forced to dig his fingernails into the blond’s shoulders to not alert the guards mulling around outside. It was dark out; all the cadets were asleep—however, he didn’t want to risk anything.

“This is very un-virgin-like of you,” Levi murmured before a groan overtook his voice, his spine curving so their chests were pressed against each other. “You’re—mmm—good…”

Erwin chuckled a reply, his hands roaming Levi’s chest until his thumbs got stuck on his nipples, which were hard and tantalizingly pink. All Erwin saw was candy.

“Do you like being touched here?” Without wasting a breath, Erwin kissed a trail down Levi’s chest to place a gentle kiss on the nub.

“Yes,” Levi breathed, tossing his head back as his arms moved to hug Erwin’s head to his chest. “Erwin, this is so—h-hey!”

Erwin’s teeth snagged on his nipple, and the blond looked up with a smirk of mischief.

“Apologies. My mistake.”

Levi scoffed. “Bullshi—a-ah!”

Levi wasn’t a small man—frame-wise. He was muscular and broad and sturdy; however, Erwin’s hands made him feel like a delicate plaything, they were so big. He was starting to feel his dominance wane, especially with the way Erwin made him moan like a bitch in heat. He was always in control whenever he had sex, and the only way to do that…was to make Erwin the bitch in heat.

“Have you ever gotten a blowjob, Erwin?” he whispered, placing butterfly kisses on Erwin’s head as the blond busied his lips with Levi’s nipples and chest. However, those lips stilled at that question.

“I…I have,” he replied reluctantly, raising his head to meet the other’s eyes.

Levi was a little disappointed because if Erwin already knew how a blowjob felt, that meant he’d have to out-blow the first person. Not that that would be a challenge, but still.

“So you’re not entirely a virgin,” he mused, drawing swirls in Erwin’s gelled back hair. If his hair wasn’t sweat-soaked and messy in his eyes by the time they’d finished, Levi would consider it a job badly done.

“I-I suppose not?” Erwin stuttered, confusion evident in his tone. “Why, what are you—”

Levi was already on his knees before he finished his question, ready to answer it. He quickly undid Erwin’s belt, licking his lips at the bulge he had very clearly felt against his leg a few moments ago.

Erwin immediately began to panic, his arms flying out to try and stop the other. “Levi! Y-you don’t have to—”

Levi was quick to interrupt. “I want to,” he replied. He was practically drooling, the clinking of the belt and the zipper unzipping music to his ears. It was pornographic just how much Erwin’s cock was straining against his drawers—the poor fabric was hanging onto his hips by a thread. It only took a short wave of his hand against the fabric crotch for Erwin’s hardness to emerge, leaving Levi breathless and confused.

How the hell am I going to fit this inside me?

“Don’t look at it like that,” Erwin said with a frown, breaking Levi out of his thoughts.

“No, Erwin,” Levi cooed reassuringly, brushing his fingertips against the vein encircling his shaft. “I’m just admiring it.”

Erwin didn’t seem convinced until he felt Levi’s fingers against them—then, all insecurities vanished. His whole body stiffened, his fingers digging into the leather arms of the chair.

Levi smirked at the whitening knuckles in front of him, his eyes drifting up to meet Erwin’s heated gaze. “Christ, if that’s how you react to a touch like that, I wonder how you’ll react to this…” With that, he gripped Erwin’s cock firmly and gave it an experimental stroke.

“A-ah!” The reaction was better than what Levi could ever imagine. Erwin’s body was pulsing, his eyelids dropping with lewdness and his gruff chest voice coming out in spurts. “Fuck…”

“Hm,” Levi hummed, leaning over to give the head a chaste kiss.

“L-Levi!” Erwin gasped. “Stop playing with me!”

“Oh, but it’s so fun,” Levi replied, his never-ending smirk on display on his lips. It only disappeared once he took the head into his mouth, letting the saliva he accumulated in his mouth drip down the shaft and gather around his hand that grasped the base. He gave it another pump as he sucked happily, lubricating it both to provide less friction for Erwin and for himself when he’d eventually have to put it inside himself. It was hot in his hand and heavy against his tongue, and all he was thinking was how it’d feel slapped against his cheek. But of course, he didn’t expect a virgin to do that for him.

“Mm—mm! Levi, ple-ease…” Erwin begged, his body racked with overstimulation.

“Pleath whath?” Levi asked, his voice muffled from the cock in his mouth. But Erwin’s answer was interrupted by another bout of moans that dribbled out of his mouth once Levi returned to dutifully sucking, taking more of the shaft into his mouth. He continued to descend, the corners of his mouth burning by how wide his mouth was stretching to accommodate Erwin’s size, not to mention how he was on the verge of gagging with how deep the blond’s cock was rubbing in his throat. And he was only halfway down.

This is going to be difficult, Levi thought, but he couldn’t focus on thinking when Erwin was making such a huge racket above him.

He pulled up enough to speak, saying, “If this is how you react to the beginning of a blowjob, then the one you got before must’ve been horrible,” before diving back down to his previous spot. He heard Erwin begin a retort, but he stuck out his tongue and stroked the vein in the corner of his mouth as a dirty trick, effectively shutting Erwin up with his own groans.

Even though he was focused on going as deep as possible, he couldn’t help but look up and try to make eye contact with Erwin, who was watching him with such a hungry expression, Levi couldn’t help but reach down into his pants to try and relieve some of the pain in his crotch as well.

However, after a few more strokes and gulps of Erwin’s shaft, he could barely prepare himself for the pressure at the back of his head or the gag that came from the back of his throat.

GACK!

“E-Er–“ was all Levi could say around the thick shaft in his mouth before Erwin’s heavy hand pushed him further down, burying himself deeper in the dark-haired man’s throat.

“Fuck, Levi!” Erwin groaned, his head tossed back in ecstasy. “It feels so…fuck! I’m so close…”

Erwin’s last curse came out as a growl, lighting Levi’s cheeks and groin on fire. However, his throat was also on fire, but for an entirely different reason. He liked control, but he couldn’t deny that being manhandled this way, feeling the sting in his hair where Erwin gripped it, made his body electrified. And he also couldn’t deny that the feeling of a cock lodged in his throat, as much as it was sexy, was also extremely uncomfortable.

“Er—!” he began, his voice muffled before being interrupted by another gag. His taps against Erwin’s leg quickly turned to slaps just as Erwin’s pushes brought him down to the base, his nose nuzzled into his golden happy trail.

“Oh, Levi!” Erwin exclaimed, suddenly broken out of his pleasure-fueled fugue state. He released Levi’s hair and the pressure on his head, leaving Levi to immediately lift off his cock with a lewd pop. He was left coughing while Erwin spluttered out apologies, his hands up in the air before one of them found a place on the top of Levi’s head. However, this time, there was no pressure. He pet the soft hair underneath his fingertips apologetically as Levi caught his bearings.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” Erwin finally said after a myriad of unfinished sentences and stutters. “I-I got too into it. That’s never happened before…I—“

“No,” Levi finally said, his voice now hoarse. He wiped at the corner of his mouth, his hand streaked with saliva and precome. He took a moment to clear his throat before quietly adding, “I…I liked it.”

Both men could barely meet each other’s eyes, their faces as red as the candle flame dancing about on the desk.

Erwin was the first who dared to speak. “Uh, well, I—“

But Levi was quick to interrupt. “If that’s all it takes to get you to come, then we better move on.” He stood up, his hands dropping to his own belt as he held Erwin’s curious gaze. He dropped his trousers, leaving himself in just his drawers. “We wouldn’t want you to finish before we even got started.”

Erwin cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowing together as he took in Levi’s body. His curious gaze morphed into something darker, his clear eyes turning stormy as they dropped to Levi’s crotch. “Y-yes, we wouldn’t want that.”

Erwin’s hungry gaze sent shivers down Levi’s spine. He had wanted this for so long: to be admired, to be sexualized by Erwin. He wanted to be wanted, and that was exactly how it was going. Erwin was physically restraining himself from reaching forward and pulling Levi to him; it was obvious from how tightly he was gripping the chair. It was perfect.

He carefully climbed back onto Erwin’s lap, sighing at the feeling of the blond replacing his hands to their rightful position on his hips once again. The position was the same as before, except now, Levi could feel Erwin’s leaking cock pressed against his asscheek, wetting his drawers.

“Nervous to finally lose your V card?” he asked with a smirk, reaching behind him to give Erwin’s cock a playful tug, earning a delicious grunt from the other.

“Should I be?” Erwin replied, cocking his head as he gazed up at his friend with lowered eyelids and heavy pants. His chest was rising and falling erratically the more Levi fondled him.

“No,” Levi cooed, reaching up to push down his drawers. He leaned forward and kissed Erwin’s cheek, delighting in the whimper that escaped those thin lips. “I’ll take care of everything.”

He lifted a hand to his lips, sticking two fingers inside his mouth and wetting them dutifully with his tongue. If he wanted to walk the next day and not bleed, he’d have to stretch himself very attentively.

“What are you doing?” Erwin asked. He was watching Levi’s every move with heated glances.

Levi chuckled between the fingers in his mouth, pulling them out and reaching behind himself. “Sex between men requires some stretching and lubrication,” he said as he slowly pushed a finger inside himself, letting out a low hiss. “When you have sex with the woman of your dreams, you probably won’t have to endure this. Women make their own lubrication, and if she’s not a virgin, she’s probably loose enough. Just give me a second.”

Even though he knew he shouldn’t rush the process, he didn’t want Erwin to think he was a boring lay, so he inserted a second finger, feeling a slight sting. Even though he only wanted to fuck Erwin in that moment, he at least wanted it to make it enjoyable and sweet for the man who was losing his virginity. He was sharing an important moment with his best friend, and even though sex between men wasn’t really counted as real sex, he might as well educate Erwin on real sex. So that was what he decided to do.

“You’re not exactly small, Erwin,” he continued, using his other hand to stroke Erwin as he fingered himself. It’d been a while since he last had sex. Perhaps a couple of years. Ever since he met and bonded with Erwin, he hadn’t had eyes on anybody else and wouldn’t let anybody touch him. In a way, he’d been saving himself for Erwin.

“You have to be patient with your lady,” he instructed, flinching each time he pumped his fingers in and out. He was loosening up, just not at the desired pace. “She might not handle it well.”

“Levi,” Erwin rasped, breaking Levi out of his teaching persona. “I want to do it.”

“Uh—” This was the last thing Levi expected, especially out of Erwin. “What?”

Erwin snaked a hand down Levi’s hip down to cup his cheek, his hand dangerously close to his entrance. His fingers inched up to stroke Levi’s wrist, which had since stilled from shock. He craned his neck up, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked at his friend.

“I want to prepare you,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t I learn how to do this?”

Levi hesitated. “Er, well, you probably won’t have to do this with women—”

“Levi,” Erwin interrupted, his eyes closing with annoyance, “for fuck’s sake, shut up about women. Let me help you.”

Levi’s ears went bright pink at that, and he had no choice but to let his fingers slip out and let his hand hang limply by his side. Erwin hardly ever cursed. It’d have to be a life or death situation for him to curse. And yet…

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Erwin warned, lifting his hand to his mouth and wetting two fingers like he watched Levi do. He dropped his hand to Levi’s entrance once his fingers were sufficiently coated, pushing in his fingertip as he held his breath.

“You’re not,” Levi said after sucking in a sharp breath. Erwin’s fingers were much bigger than his own—he knew this very well after dreaming about them for years. They felt even bigger than in his dreams. “Keep going.”

Erwin pushed in until he reached his knuckle and slowly pulled out, using Levi’s sighs and breaths as a guide as to whether he was doing well or not. He decided to risk it and push in a second finger before the saliva coating it dried up, earning a squeal from Levi.

“Are you okay?” Erwin asked hurriedly, but all Levi responded with was throwing his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Erwin…” Levi’s voice was shaky. Erwin had never heard him like this. Levi always had a monotone voice, one that was reassured and calm. Even when he yelled, it was controlled. He was always in control. Well, it was only fair. This experience was a first for him, and it was a first for Levi to not be in control.

“Should I continue?” Erwin asked again.

Levi let out a shuddering breath. “I-inside every man’s ass, there’s a spot. And when you touch that spot, it makes you see stars. A-and…” He shifted his hips backward, causing Erwin’s fingers to brush up against a walnut-shaped mound raised from Levi’s walls. Yet again, Levi let out a cry, his fingers digging into Erwin’s back and leaving behind crescent-shaped tattoos.

“So, it’s here?” he asked, pressing into that spot again as if it was nothing, but it was everything to Levi. His mind was foggy, and his head was light. He was so confused; how did Erwin find his spot so quickly and how does he continue to find it so easily? Big fingers are good for that reason, but it seemed as if he knew intuitively where it was.

“Are y-you sure you’re a…a virgin?” he asked, moving his hips to match the pump of Erwin’s fingers. For a virgin, he was finding the spot over and over with impressive accuracy and stroking it with beautiful mastery.

Erwin chuckled and buried his nose in Levi’s dark mop of hair, taking in the smell of his hair mousse and salty sweat. “Yes, I’m very sure.”

After a few moments of continuous pumping, Levi instructed Erwin to scissor him open with another joke about him being well-endowed.

“I think you’re a virgin because women are too scared to handle your giant dick,” he said with a breathy laugh.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Erwin replied, giving Levi another scissor stretch. He fell silent in his thoughts for a moment before beginning, “You know, women aren’t my—”

“Okay, I think I’m ready,” Levi cut in, his hand gripping Erwin’s wrist. “I’m ready to put it in.”

“P-put—“ Erwin spluttered, his face matching Levi’s pink ears. “O-oh, right.”

It was almost as if he just remembered what was happening, that he was going to have sex. It was frustratingly endearing.

“We’ll go nice and easy,” Levi whispered, his tone no longer having its usual bite. He wasn’t that drunk on horniness—he knew how much of a big moment this was for Erwin.

“Okay,” Erwin replied quietly. He sucked air through his clenched teeth when Levi gripped his cock against, standing it up as he hovered above it. “You can stop whenever you want.”

“I know that,” Levi replied hurriedly. It almost felt as if he was losing his virginity, not Erwin. He let out a long breath before lowering his hips, but his chest seized once his entrance made contact with the head of Erwin’s cock, the sheer size of it making his body shut down.

“A-ah,” was the small whine that escaped Erwin’s lips. It invigorated Levi—he had control. It was all he needed to lower his hips further, letting out a groan with each inch that entered him.

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunted, his legs trembling the more he lowered himself. However, as strong as his thighs were, they were no match for Erwin’s size, and they gave out, causing a smack to echo off the walls from Levi’s legs giving out and landing him in Erwin’s lap yet again, except this time with his full size inside him.

“Ngh-!” It was like ripping off a bandage—it was better to get it over with all in one swoop, but damn, did it hurt. It was confirmed: Levi would be walking funny the next day for sure. But it couldn’t have felt any better. He was finally joined with Erwin. And he couldn’t wait to fuck him into oblivion.

However, Erwin was suspiciously quiet. Levi tried to lift his head from being buried in Erwin’s gelled hair, but Erwin’s stiff hold on him prevented him from checking in on the blond or even seeing his face since it was pressed against Levi’s chest.

And then came the warmth flooding inside him. It was strange—did Erwin grow a few inches in the few seconds he was inside? But it felt like liquid… which sent Levi into a panic. Was he bleeding that badly? Was he hemorrhaging? If he died because of internal bleeding from a giant cock instead of going down in glory from a Titan, he’d have some hands to throw with God.

However, he quickly pieced together what was happening when he felt Erwin’s entire body shivering and a guttural groan escape from the back of his throat, reverberating throughout Levi’s entire body.

Erwin came.

“Erwin?” he whispered. He bit his lip apprehensively, unsure of how to approach the sensitive issue. Usually, he enjoyed a good creampie. But he needed to have his mind fucked out before he got to the point where he could tolerate the slimy mess inside him, and he was hardly there. Now, he was just uncomfortable, even if it was Erwin’s, the love of his life’s slimy mess.

Erwin wasn’t talking. He was a statue.

Levi took his perpetual silence and interpreted it as shame. He rubbed Erwin’s shoulder reassuringly and kissed the top of his head, making sure to keep his hips still to not overstimulate the poor man.

“It’s alright, Erwin. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of men do this, especially during their first time. It’s completely nor…” Levi trailed off when he realized something dire: Erwin wasn’t getting softer. He was preparing himself to lift off Erwin’s lap and have that difficult conversation, but how the hell was he supposed to get up with that thing still lodged inside him?

Erwin wasn’t just not getting softer; he was getting harder. Enough to stretch Levi open even more, causing the man to hiss both in pain and in confusion. What the hell is going on?

Before Levi could realize what was happening, he was being lifted into the air and subsequently flipped over, his face pressed into the cold hardwood desk. His legs flailed about before finding their place on the floor, his arms pinned behind him in Erwin’s strong grasp.

“Erwin—?!”

“Sorry, Levi, but I’m not done.” Erwin’s voice was gravelly, and Levi couldn’t see his face to match the voice to the expression he was making. “Mind if I come in you again?”

“W-wait—!” However, a powerful thrust cut him off, replacing his objection with a shout mixed with a lewd moan. His chin and knees thumped against the desk, and his softening erection was at full mast yet again. “Erwin, wait!”

Erwin was about to pull out again—he had become a machine—but stopped upon hearing Levi’s pleas. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

How dare you fucking ask that when I’m leaking like a hose over here? Levi thought angrily. He shook his head to the best of his ability and clarified, “N-no, just…what happened?”

“Oh.” Erwin chuckled bashfully, and when Levi turned his head, he could see the blond rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

The damn brute, acting all shy.

“Well, that was embarrassing. You caught me off guard. But I recovered. So, shall we continue?”

He pulled out an imperceptible amount before pushing back in, giving Levi a mouth-watering taste of what was to come.

“Erwin,” Levi breathed, his cheek heating up the wood underneath it as he tried to meet Erwin’s eyes. “Fuck me until I can’t stand.”

Levi liked to be in control. But something that he’d learned very quickly from Erwin (who knew he’d be learning something from the virgin?) was that sometimes…it was nice to give up control. He had been in control his entire life, especially now as a captain. Maybe he could let somebody take the reins for a while.

The small smile that crossed Erwin’s lips sent chills down his spine. “Duly noted.”

The subsequent thrust that followed made Levi’s knees buckle, but Erwin’s hold on his wrists pinned to his back held him in place long enough for Levi to barely recover in time for another back-breaking thrust.

“E-Erwin!” he cried, his skin prickling with each smack and squelch that hit his ears. “Erwin, fuck, it feels—ngh, s-so—"

Both his legs and voice were trembling, his legs close to collapsing at the feeling of Erwin’s size stuffed inside him and pushing out his semen with his thrust. The previous semen provided the perfect lube, and it only added to the lascivious sounds filling the room. Erwin’s groans and grunts were short but dominant, each one causing Levi’s body to seize up and his hole to tighten, which then caused Erwin to groan more. It was a vicious cycle, one that brought each man eye-rolling waves of pleasure.

“You’re so tight, L-Levi,” Erwin murmured, leaning over Levi’s body to lick the shell of his ear. He gave another rough thrust, relishing in Levi’s unhinged reaction. “Are you sure you’re not a virgin?”

Levi was about to reply with a sarcastic remark, but Erwin never gave him the time as he ramped up his pace and continued to give his ear—one of his erogenous zones—special attention. Erwin let go of Levi’s wrists, to which the captain responded by spreading his arms out and digging his nails into the wood. However, Erwin didn’t leave Levi’s hands unattended for long. In between hard thrusts, he slipped a hand over Levi’s, interlacing their fingers from the back and running his thumb over his knuckles. He kept his other hand staunchly on Levi’s hip, leaving angry red marks for Levi to enjoy afterward.

“You’re going to have to buy me a new desk,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the slapping and wet sounds behind them. “You’re leaving scratch marks. That’s pretty…ugh…s-suspicious.”

“Erwin!” Levi begged, both out of frustration and pleasure. He wanted Erwin to stop teasing him, but at the same time, that was the main thing that was sending him over the edge—other than the punishing thrusting pace, of course. “Fuck me, f-fuck me, f…fuck…mmm—! Harder!”

“As you wish,” Erwin replied. He complied beautifully to Levi’s request, each thrust leaving a fresh set of raised red circles on Levi’s ass. “A-ah, Levi…it’s getting quite hard to move…”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Levi demanded. Yet again, Erwin complied, leaning back over and meeting Levi’s cherry red and bitten-up lips with a sloppy kiss that only added to the wet sounds in the room. “Mmph!”

“Levi,” Erwin growled hoarsely in between kisses, causing Levi’s toes to curl in his boots. “Levi…are you cl…mmm…close? Can I...c-can I come inside?"

Levi nodded quickly, which only added to his disorientedness. He couldn't tell down from up—that was Erwin's effect on him. "I-inside...plea...please!"

They were breathing into each other’s mouths at this point, too afraid to separate lips and lose that connection between them. Levi nodded, his hand drifting down the desk.

“My…my cock…” Levi mumbled before a moan overtook him, his hand stopping in its movements as his body went stiff again.

Erwin understood right away. He acted quickly, wanting Levi to come at least once before he finished again. He moved the hand on Levi’s hip down, down until his fingers brushed against Levi’s leaking cock. Within a second, he had it in his grip, giving it a tight pump and utilizing the precome as lube.

Levi’s reaction was immediate, his voice coming out as a shrill squeak and his body ransacked by tremors. He could barely see anything between his sweaty hair clumping in front of his eyes and the way his head was being tossed about with each brutal thrust. All he knew was that he needed one more thing, and he was done.

“Levi,” Erwin whispered again, planting a kiss on the corner of Levi’s lips. “I like you. I like you so much. I’ve liked you for so long…”

That was all Levi needed. With all his erogenous zones activated, plus the romantic confession from Erwin, it was the perfect concoction that brewed up a warm, familiar feeling in the depths of his stomach. It only took the combination of a pump of Erwin’s hand and a thrust from his brilliant cock to send him over the edge.

“Er-Er—” His voice cut out just as his vision was overtaken by blinding stars, his come splashing against the inside of the desk and leaving it covered in the evidence of his and Erwin’s romantic encounter. His entire body seized, and every time he felt the fluid movement of Erwin’s abs moving against his sweat-slicked back, it overstimulated him to the point that all that came out of his mouth were pathetic whimpers. With the next movement, he used all the strength in his neck to move his head over to their conjoined hands and bit down on Erwin’s knuckles to silence himself.

It only took two more thrusts for Erwin to finish. He had been holding back ever since they first started back up again, but he needed Levi to enjoy this as much as he was. And his captain very clearly did. His captain.

His orgasm was quieter than Levi’s, but it wasn’t any less dramatic or took any less of a toll on his body. His hips stuttered forward, his chest erratically falling and rising to compensate for the lack of breath in his lungs. He grunted into the nape of Levi’s neck as he buried himself deep inside, spilling his second seed of the night inside his captain. His captain.

Levi was very much in that fucked-out-of-his-mind state of being because he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of being filled to the brim with that sticky substance a second time. It was the perfect feeling to close out the night, followed by the worst feeling of the night: Erwin pulling out. He let out a pathetic whine, and he wasn't even ashamed—he loved Erwin's cock that much. He felt so empty, and he had to deal with the sensation of Erwin’s hot come spill out and wind down his leg. He’d have to take a bath right after this. But his legs could barely stand, and he could hardly hold onto the desk; all his limbs had turned into jelly.

Luckily, Erwin caught him by wrapping his arm around Levi’s stomach before he could collapse, seating him in his lap. Since when had Erwin sat back down in the chair? Levi didn’t know—all he knew was he had been thoroughly and totally fucked from the fact that he had no sense of linear time. All he knew was that he was still madly in love with Erwin, and he had fallen deeper in love…if that was even possible.

“Hey,” Erwin finally spoke up after a few uninterrupted minutes of them breathing heavily. “You’re the right person I was talking about earlier, Levi. You’re the person I’ve been saving myself for.”

Levi was so lightheaded, he felt as if his head could up and float away at any moment. But the second he heard Erwin say that, heard his meatheaded commander confess his love for the second time, he was all-too grounded.

“I…I think I figured that out pretty quickly, Erwin,” Levi replied softly, still catching his breath. He slipped his hands over the blond’s that were sitting over his stomach, and he leaned his head back to rest against Erwin’s shoulder. He looked up to see those blue eyes he’d wanted to focus only on him for so long, and he earned it. Now, those blue eyes never left him. “No normal man would’ve accepted my proposal without being a little attracted to men.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I’m not normal,” Erwin replied, hugging Levi closer to him. “I’m glad you taught me to love you, Levi.”

How could Levi not feel all warm and mushy at that? As much of the stern man he was, he wasn’t heartless. In fact, Erwin reminded him just how big his heart could be at times, as if it was too big for his chest and would burst at any moment.

“Okay, but you seriously saved it all these years for me?” Levi asked, lifting up and turning slightly to be able to look Erwin in the face. “Ever since we first met? Why didn’t you make a move earlier?”

Erwin sighed deeply and shook his head. “I was honestly about to lose it before I met you. I had a girlfriend, and I was satisfied with the thought that I’d be living out the life people expected of me. Get a nice wife, have a couple of kids, and retire from the Regiment or die with the honor of leaving behind a nice family and being a strong man.” He looked up, his eyes never having shone so brilliantly before. “But then I met you, and I realized I needed to share such an intimate part of myself with somebody I truly cared about. And as for taking so long…”

He snickered and tapped Levi on his behind. “That’s your fault. I dropped so many hints…”

“You dropped so many hints?!” Levi interjected. “I was dropping hints every time we were alone together! Your nickname in my head is meathead because you never understood anything!”

“Er, I—” Erwin hesitated, his eyes dropping as he gathered his thoughts. “Now, wait a minute—”

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” Levi sighed, lifting a hand to Erwin’s cheek and stroking his famously sharp cheekbone tenderly. “It took too goddamn long, but we’re here. We…” He bit his lip before saying, “We made love.”

Erwin let out a bark of a laugh and threw his arms around Levi, pulling him in for a tight, bone-breaking hug. “And you said I was a softie!”

“Be quiet,” Levi demanded, pushing himself off Erwin’s lap and grabbing a tissue from his desk to clean himself up to the best of his ability before pulling his drawers and pants up. “By the way, how did you know where to touch me? It barely felt like I was having sex with a virgin.”

Erwin smirked. “I read pornography.”

Levi whipped around, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Those pictures? There are ones with males?”

“Once you’re the commander, you can get a lot of things normal people can’t,” Erwin replied coolly.

Levi went silent, fumbling with his belt absentmindedly as he imagined Erwin masturbating to gay porn late at night. Dare he imagine that Erwin was thinking about him while masturbating, replacing the men’s faces with theirs? He was far too exhausted to get hard again, but damn it, could he still use his wonderful imagination. “Well, you won’t need that now that I’m here.”

Erwin chuckled and shrugged. “I suppose not.”

Levi finished fastening his belt, his cheeks heating up as he tried his best to ignore Erwin’s fond gaze on him.

“Stop staring at me and get back to work.”

“Oh, Levi, won’t you stay?” Erwin pleaded, reaching out to tug on Levi’s pants.

“With your come in my ass? I don’t think so,” he replied with a scoff. His first reaction was to smack Erwin’s hand away, but instead, he lifted it to his lips and gave his knuckles, which harbored a clean red bitemark from earlier, a soft kiss. “Besides, I only came in to drop off those documents and talk about them for a little bit. My side mission was to seduce you. I’ve been pretty successful today.”

Erwin grinned and nodded. “I have been thoroughly seduced.”

Levi was so in love. All he wanted to do now was get back in Erwin’s lap and kiss him until they both passed out. But he had to control himself. He just took the man’s virginity, they confessed both their feelings to each other, and he had to cope with the fact that he wouldn’t be able to walk straight the next day. He was exhausted.

He walked over to Erwin’s closet and pulled on one of his shirts since his had been ripped to shreds. It was far too big for him, which was both a blessing and a curse. He was far too tired to care about the curse—besides, it was late. He could run to his room without anybody seeing him, right?

“I’ll see you in the morning, Erwin,” Levi said after buttoning up the shirt.

“Can’t I seduce you to sleep in my bed tonight?” Erwin asked, standing up to fasten his belt and pad over to Levi. He towered over the captain, that pleading expression leaving Levi at a loss for any rejection words.

“I…” He’d never be able to say no to that face. “I won’t make it a habit. But since I took your virginity…” He tugged at Erwin’s belt, stumbling him forward enough so that his nose reached his downturned chin. “I can make an exception for tonight.”

Before Erwin could react, he added, “But I have to clean myself up. I’ll be back after my bath. You should probably take one, too.”

“Can’t we take one together?” Erwin asked in that pleading voice, but this time, Levi put his foot down.

“The entire Regiment probably heard us rutting about. Us going to the bath together is pushing it,” he said. When he saw the gloomy look that crossed Erwin’s puppy-dog face, he pulled the blond down by the back of the neck and smooched him hard enough to leave the other dazed. “I will see you in an hour. Goodnight.”

He shuffled out of the room before Erwin could object, closing the door and rushing down the hallway. He was smiling to himself, so excited that he made it out without being seen that he missed Moblit’s entire body in the middle of the hallway, bumping into him hard enough to get the other to grunt.

“Hey—oh, Levi!” Moblit exclaimed, quickly lowering his voice since it was late. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

He stepped back, and it was comical how quickly his eyes dropped from Levi’s face to the oversized shirt he had on. It was less comical how they slowly drifted down the hallway to take in Erwin’s slightly ajar office door and how the lights were still on inside the room. Not to mention, Moblit certainly noticed how disheveled and sweaty Levi looked.

“What are you staring at?” Levi snapped, tugging the shirt tighter around his body as he shouldered past Moblit. “Get back to your post before I inform Commander Erwin about this.”

“So you’d go back to his office?” Moblit asked, hiding a snicker behind his hand. He barely saw the kick in the back of the knee coming, crippling him to the floor as Levi continued on his way.

“No more smart remarks from you, soldier,” Levi grumbled, slipping into his room and hiding behind the door. He walked to the bathroom and looked himself in the face: he was far too red. He knew he could trust Moblit to keep his secret—it didn’t make the encounter any less embarrassing.

Before long, he was bathed and clean. He made sure that the hallway was clear before sprinting down and slamming Erwin’s bedroom door closed behind him. He sighed, but before he could even turn around, Erwin’s hands were on him, around his waist, pinching his hips.

“You took too long.” Erwin had probably fallen asleep; his voice was gruff but melodic.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Levi whispered, turning around in his arms and taking in the refreshing cotton scent of his shirt.

“Mm.” They shuffled and practically fell onto the bed, Erwin out like a light before Levi could even adjust his position. He was convinced that they’d get up to some more funny business before falling asleep, but perhaps losing his virginity in addition to orgasming twice in one night was a little too much for the commander. It would have been too much for anyone.

Levi, fully believing Erwin was asleep, fit himself into his side. His head found a place on his muscled chest, the same one he had been envisioning himself laying on for far too long. And here he was, with that chest all to himself with no need to share it with anybody else. He draped an arm around Erwin’s waist and hugged him tighter.

“I like you, Erwin,” Levi whispered as he shut his eyes.

Erwin smiled to himself in the dark, his eyes fluttering open and casting down to take in Levi’s frame snuggled up against him. I like you, too, Levi, he thought. More than you could ever know.

153 notes · View notes

escapewithbts · 3 years ago

Text

Charity Case - Yoongi

Not super edited, not sure if I love it, blah blah blah, please still enjoy...

I’ve been in such a Yoongi mood lately 😇

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

You stared at your bank statement, or more specifically, your savings account. You had saved up a decent amount of money, that was for sure, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to kickstart your dream.

It all happened a few days ago on a Tuesday afternoon. You had just finished lunch with a friend who was from your home country. The two of you had found a restaurant specializing in the traditional food from there since you both were craving a taste of home. On your walk back to your apartment, you noticed the road you usually took was blocked off with construction (typical for the summertime in Seoul you were learning), so ultimately you had to take a detour, pulling out your Maps app. Although you lived in Hongdae, you really only took the same few roads daily. Therefore, you still did not quite know your way around.

The new directions had you weave down a side street, one you had never been on before. To your surprise, it was full of restaurants, shops, and cafes, and since Hongdae was known for homing many foreigners within the city of Seoul, many of them featured things you were very familiar with from back home.

Strolling down the block you made mental notes of places you wanted to try, places that were bustling with people, figuring they must be good if that’s the case.

All of a sudden, between an American grocery store and floral shop, you noticed a beautiful empty store front. You peered in the large windows and was met with a decent sized space, white walls, white tile floors, a lot of natural lighting. It was perfect. In the corner of the same window there was a sign that read “FOR LEASE” with the name of the agent and a phone number.

You took a picture of said sign before stuffing your phone back in your pocket. There was no harm in calling, right? Even just getting a feel for the space was harmless…right?

For ever since coming to Seoul from abroad, it was your dream to open your own bakery. To make desserts and breads and pastries fresh daily for the Seoulites to try and the foreigners to feel nostalgic for their home countries. You were currently working a boring office job as a translator, saving for the moment you could follow your true dream.

And maybe this was a sign… this was it.

So, you did call. You did get a feel for the space. And it was perfect. Turns out it had been a pizza shop that went under, (too much competition) so there were already ovens and freezers and refrigeration, all in great working condition. The agent informed you the floor could be ripped up and replaced, there were already light fixtures attached in the ceiling that could connect to chandeliers and you were already picturing plants hanging from macrame in front of the large windows.

But there was just one problem.

As you stared at your savings account and compared it to the down payment in the brochure the realtor had given you… they didn’t match. You were short about 1/3 of the cost, especially since there was still some work to be done inside to really make it your own.

You heart sunk. You mentally scolded yourself for getting your hopes up. It was in such a prime location; how could you have been so stupid to think it was in your price range!

Suddenly, instead of staring at your lack of funds, you were staring at your face in your phone’s front camera as you received a FaceTime call request. ‘Yoongi’ was the name at the top of the phone screen, accompanied by your favorite picture you had taken of him candidly making a gummy smile caused by a joke you had told. Right on time for the daily call you two always had.

You sighed. Did you really want to speak to him right now? You were great friends, you had (stupidly) told him about the place and he had been so incredibly excited for you. He was so supportive and encouraging… it was incredibly endearing. Reminding yourself of that you pressed the green accept button.

Immediately you were met with the handsome face and bleach blonde hair of Min Yoongi. He was resting his head back on his black leather sofa, his narrow eyes meeting yours between screens.

“Hi Yoongi-ah,” you gave him a small smile.

“Hey (y/n).” he responded, returning the smile.

You stood up and walked over to the couch in your small apartment, sitting down and curling your legs underneath you.

“What are you up to?” you asked.

He reached towards the screen and flipped it, so it was now looking forward. An NBA basketball game was playing on the large tv in his living room.

“Watching the game. It’s game 4 of the finals so if Pheonix wins this one they only have one more game to win before they win it all.”

He returned the screen to face him.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you replied, “Did you have a lot on your work schedule today?”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t too bad. Practiced PTD for a Japanese tv performance we have coming up. Worked on some music between rehearsals,” he shrugged, “the usual.”

You nodded.

“You?” he questioned, “how was your day?”

You looked down at the couch cushions and fiddled with the blanket that laid beside you. You bit your lip before responding.

“Fine. It was fine. I, uh, I had that appointment. With the agent in charge of that space I was interested in?”

Yoongi’s eyes got wide, and he perked his head up.

“Shit, I forgot that was today. How was it? Did you like it as much as you thought you would?”

A small grin appeared on your face remembering how picturesque it had been.

“It was even better than I thought it would be, Yoongs,” you told him.

He smiled wide.

“That’s incredible! So wh-what now? Did you put down the money for it? Or did you need me to come with you to look at it again, see if there’s anything that needs fixing that I can do??”

You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head. He was so sweet, and it broke your heart even more.

“Thank you, Yoongi, for offering, but that… won’t be necessary.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, expecting his next question to make you feel uneasy.

He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? Why not? I really don’t mind.”

You sighed, suddenly incredibly embarrassed to be admitting this to your friend.

“I just saw the statement of my bank account and, well, I don’t… I can’t afford the down payment. I don’t have enough saved up yet.”

You couldn’t help but look down in shame. Yoongi never talked about his money or how much he made being in BTS, but you weren’t stupid. He worked incredibly hard for everything he and his fellow members have achieved and you were nothing but proud of him. He deserved it all, even the unassumingly large income he was bringing in. He would never, ever flaunt it or make you feel inferior to him because of it, but you still felt slightly inefficient in your confession.

Yoongi’s face softened.

“Oh… I’m-I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You shrugged and gave him a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s alright. It just means it wasn’t meant to be, that’s all.”

He gave you a sympathetic frown.

“But you said it was perfect.” He reminded you.

You placed your fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Because it is, Yoongi-ah. It’s bright and cozy and practically ready. Not to mention it’s an incredible location,” you rolled your eyes at yourself, “I really should have known it would be too much.”

“How much is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You looked away again and scrunched your nose, before telling him the exact amount required to put down in order for the space to be yours.

His mouth formed into that straight line he was known for when he was neither happy nor displeased by something.

“Could you get a loan? Like from a bank?”

You shook your head.

“I already looked into it,” you informed him, “it’s weird because my bank is home, but I’m abroad so there would be a lot of hoops to jump through and the chances of being approved are slim to none. Basically, it’s not worth putting a mark on my credit for.”

He nodded in understanding, looking away for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together in thought, and as much as you appreciated him trying to help you, you had already thought of all the possible solutions, and you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.

“It’s okay, Yoongs, really, I’ll find someplace else.” You smiled reassuringly at him.

He looked back at you and hummed in agreement before you began talking about something else.

The next day you had barely stepped out of your office building after a long day at work when your phone’s text message notification sound went off.

5:49pm from Yoongi: Are you off work yet?

5:49pm to Yoongi: Leaving now. What’s up?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Can you meet me here at the HYBE building ASAP?

You furrowed your eyebrows.

5:50pm to Yoongi: Sure. Is everything okay?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Yeah, everything is fine

5:51pm from Yoongi: Come to the Forum at the top floor when you get here, okay? I already told the front desk you’re coming

5:51pm to Yoongi: You’re being weird but okay

5:51pm from Yoongi: Don’t worry so much you pabo, it’s nothing bad

You rolled your eyes and locked your phone before hailing a taxi.

The ride to Yoongi’s work was longer than usual because of traffic, but eventually you made it, giving a wad of cash to the driver and stepping out of the cab. The tall, reflective HYBE building intimidated you a little bit, like you were going to get in trouble just for stepping foot on its grounds, but you confidently passed the transparent sign that read “HYBE We Believe in Music” and opened the doors to the main entrance. A woman at the front desk greeted you and asked to see your ID when you told her you were here to see Min Yoongi. When she confirmed your identity, she gestured toward the elevators.

“Yes, you may proceed to the Forum on the 19th floor, he is waiting near the café there.”

You nodded and thanked her before letting the elevator doors close in front of you.

The aroma of coffee wafted into your nose immediately upon stepping out of the elevators. It smelled heavenly. You walked past many groups of HYBE businessmen and women taking breaks or in small meetings before finally spotting Yoongi at a table in the corner near the large windows. He was fixated on his phone, an iced Americano on the table in front of him, and another iced drink sitting across. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him in person as his schedule was usually jam packed, but upon seeing him now your heart skipped a beat and a wide smile formed on your lips. You hadn’t seen his newly bleached hair in person yet and he looked even more handsome than you imagined. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight. It was good to see him again. You missed him.

“Hi,” you said, pulling out the chair and sitting down across from him, “the building is incredible.”

He glanced up at you and nodded in agreement.

“It’s nice. They did a great job. I don’t mind coming to work as much now.” He chuckled to himself, and you rolled your eyes.

He pointed to the beverage in front of you.

“The drinks are good, too, I got your favorite.”

You smiled at him and took a sip. He was right, it was delicious.

“Thanks, Yoongs.”

He stared at you for a moment, a grin forming on his face. Your face felt hot, and you had to look away.

“Sooo… why did you need me here so urgently?” you quickly wondered.

“Urgently?” he retaliated, “it sure took you long enough.”

Oh, how you loved his bluntness.

You scoffed.

“Well, excuuuuse me, Mr. Min, normal people go home from work around this time, so traffic was absolutely horrendous! Could you have picked any other time of day?”

He smiled and looked down at his hands while shaking his head.

“This was literally the only open slot I had today, sorry,” he glanced at the time on his phone, “and I’m already almost out of time as it is.”

You waved your hands, urging him on.

“Well then, what is it that it couldn’t wait?”

He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled nervously.

“Aiisshh okay, please don’t be mad.”

You narrowed your eyes and cocked your head.

“Mad? What? What is it, Min Suga?”

He took a deep breath and reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small piece of paper. Then he unfolded it carefully and placed it in the middle of the table facing you.

To your shock, it was a personal check. From Yoongi’s bank account. Written for the exact amount you had told him last night of the down payment for the perfect shop you couldn’t afford.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes left the rectangular paper to look into his. They were a little weary, maybe, but hopeful.

“Yoongi…” you started.

He held up his hand.

“Please. Just take it, (y/n).”

Your heart was pounding. There in front of you was the exact amount you needed to start your dream. Your very own bakery. And combined with the amount you had in your savings you could even add some extra touches!

But… you couldn’t do it. You knew you couldn’t. This was your dream, and even if that amount of money was nothing to someone like Yoongi, you wanted to be the one to earn it, like he had earned all his successes.

“I-I… I can’t, Yoongi.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“(y/n) …”

“Thank you, Yoongi, truly, it means so much.”

He shook his head and motioned to the check.

“Then just take it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But you said so yourself that place is perfect! You were in love with it!”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. Did he have to keep reminding you how great it was?

“Yes. But I cannot afford it. There will be other places.”

“You can afford it if you take this. Please, (y/n), this won’t hurt me in anyway financially, I’m good. I want you to be, too.”

“I am good, Yoongi. I work hard and I’m saving. This place is just not it and I have to accept that. Maybe a time will come where I can afford someplace like it, and when it does it will be just as perfect.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How do you know you’ll find another place?? Jesus, you’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, (y/n).”

Your hands balled up into fists. Okay that was it. Calling you stubborn because you wanted to be self sufficient had made you hit your boiling point.

“I’m stubborn? How about I just don’t want to be your charity case, idol Min Yoongi, hmm?” you whispered harshly to him, “I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t want your help; I don’t need your help. I’m a fucking adult, too, you know, just because I don’t make millions doesn’t mean I can’t make smart financial decisions. God, do you think I’m just that pathetic?”

You got up to leave, so over this conversation.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut.

“What? Fuck, (y/n), no I don’t think you’re pathetic. If anything… I-I’m the pathetic one.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before marching back toward the elevators and hitting the down arrow button.

Yoongi followed.

“Do you know why?” he asked, jumping into the elevator with you before the doors could close.

It was just the two of you as it began its long descent down 19 floors.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why what? Why you’re pathetic?” you snorted, “Because you just offered your friend an obscene amount of money for something you have no part in?”

He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath.

Finally, he peered back up at you and his dark brown eyes met yours.

“Well, that, and because,” he paused, shuffling nervously on his feet, “because I’m having a really hard time telling that same friend how I truly feel about her.”

Your heart stopped and your mouth fell open again, in a different kind of shock.

“What?” you said softly.

“Fuck, I love you, (y/n)!” the pale skin of his face turned a bright red, and he took his gaze away again, “Aiiisshh, I’m sorry, I’m just horrible at showing my emotions and telling people how I feel. I guess I was hoping offering you the money would help you understand but I didn’t even think how it would come off, I just wanted you to know that I support you and I want to be apart of your decisions in life as more than a friend and- “

You cut off his worrisome rant by flinging yourself towards him and kissing him hard. It was his turn to be shocked, but he instantly got the memo and pushed you back against the wall of the elevator in passion. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands grazing the bare skin of your lower back under your shirt. You gripped your hands in his blonde locks.

The elevator let out a ding signaling you had reached the first floor. You pulled away from each other, panting from the heat of the moment. You smiled.

“I love you, too, Yoongs. But I’m still not taking your money.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

Then you started to exit the elevator, but you felt him grab your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned back toward him with confused eyes.

He grinned at you, his eyes suddenly full of lust.

“Do you maybe... want to see my new studio?”

Masterlist

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Text

G Protocol

I have finally written another Protocol :D I wanted this to be for Thunderfam, but I’m not sure it lives up to that. There may be a tissue warning, but there may also be a laugh or two. Sorry, my brain stopped working an hour ago.

Many thanks to @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment for their amazing support over the last few hours.

I was determined to finish this and it is now past 3am. Excuse me while I fall on my face.

I hope you enjoy my zombie writing and all hail the caffeine in frozen Coke :D

-o-o-o-

Gordon glared at his oldest brother. “That’s not fair!”

Scott stared back, surprised.

Irrationally, it made Gordon even angrier. “It’s not fair, Scott, and you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair, Gordon. I know you know that.” It was said calmly and with finality. To top it off, his eldest brother turned his back on him and went back to doing important stuff at their father’s desk.

“You know what? Screw you!”

That at least got a frown out of his brother.

But little more.

With a hiss, Gordon spun on his one good foot and as furiously as he could manage, crutched his way over to the stairs and began hopping down them.

“Gordon, what the hell?! Take the elevator!”

“I don’t care!” It was childish and stupid and he really should apologise, but it was a last straw thing. He had had it. He wanted out, off these crutches, into the pool, away from here!

He almost made it worse by stumbling halfway down the stairs. His brother’s freaked out yell did nothing other than make him feel guilty. But he rescued himself and stormed through the kitchen past a wide-eyed Alan and out onto the pool deck.

Only to be faced by the fact he couldn’t go in the pool which was half the problem in itself.

Well, he could, but he couldn’t swim at any stress relief level.

One stupid broken ankle and everything had gone to shit. He had been stuck here for weeks and there were weeks to go and it reminded him of other weeks of his life that were too many and he was just over it.

The breath he drew in was shaky and had far too much emotion in it for comfort.

He hobbled further out onto the decking. All he wanted was out. But all the paths leading away were gravel and not very crutch friendly.

Screw it. That would be his new maxim. To hell with everything. And he took the first steps along the path towards the nearest beach.

It wasn’t easy going at all. The crutches seemed determined to slip on unstable rock. He nearly faceplanted at least twice within the first dozen metres, but Gordon was a Tracy as much as any of his brothers and pissed off enough to spout determination in a fountain of idiocy.

Idiocy which proved itself not two minutes later when one crutch slipped and he couldn’t recover. One moment his driving force was anger, the next it was fear as his brain flash-calculated the damage that was going to result from falling down the steep incline at his feet.

But there was the equally fast realisation that there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

And he fell.

But he didn’t hit the jagged rock or even fall very far. Instead, strong arms grabbed him and scooped him up with a grunt. A familiar grunt and the scent of aftershave and engine grease.

Virgil.

Gravel, along with his crutches, clattered down the path in echo of where Gordon would have ended up if it wasn’t for his big brother - who had obviously followed him down.

“Uh, thanks, Virg.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gordon stared up at his brother who now had him clutched to his chest as if Gordon was his blushing bride...or something.

“You can put me down now.”

“Uh-uh.”

“What?”

And Virgil began carefully walking down the path towards the beach.

“Virgil, put me down.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“G Protocol has been engaged.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Because you have reached your limit.”

“Virgil, I’m fine.”

“You told Scott to get screwed.”

“He wasn’t being fair! Alan got the last of the ice cream last time. It was my turn!”

“Exactly.” Virgil stopped at the edge of a small cliff just before the beach proper. Behind them a set of rockets fired and Gordon looked up to see the space elevator disappear into the mountain. “Aw, hell, you called down John?!”

“G Protocol, Gords. You know the deal.”

Gordon sighed. Did he ever. “Go ahead. Put me out of my misery.”

Virgil smiled at him. “That’s the aim.” And chucked him off the cliff.

For Gordon, flipping into diving form was instinctual and while the cliff was a small one, they had jumped off it enough in fun for him to know exactly how much time it took to hit the water.

And water it was.

It took away the sounds of the world in a rush of bubbles.

He didn’t try to surface immediately. He let his momentum carry him deeper, his arms taking the load of the work since one foot wasn’t functioning. Blue enveloped everything and lifted his heart by its mere presence.

Why hadn’t he come here earlier?

He wasn’t surprised when there was a nearby splash and Virgil, stripped down to a t-shirt and his green swim shorts appeared next to him in a less coordinated and much bigger splash, his frown a glaring one letting Gordon know he had hung underwater too long for his brother’s comfort.

Exhaling, Gordon pushed for the surface just as another body hit the water. A body that belonged to his eldest brother.

Scott threw a flotation ring at Gordon. “Use it.” The tone brooked no argument.

Gordon screwed up his face. He hadn’t used one of these stupid things since…the hydrofoil.

He swore under his breath, but shoved it over his head and under his arms like some stupid little kid who couldn’t swim. Admittedly, it took the strain off his arms and legs, but the pink donut for all its novelty brought back more memories of struggle than he really wanted to face right now.

Maybe Virg was right. Maybe he was at his limit.

He swore again, this time enough to earn himself an arched eyebrow from Virgil treading water quite healthily beside him.

Irrational anger at something as simple as that proved beyond doubt that Gordon had blown himself a gasket.

Virgil must have sensed something on that medic radar of his because he reached out and pulled Gordon closer. “Hey, take a deep breath.”

The wet hair in his brother’s eyes and the seawater on his eyelashes only emphasized his kindness.

Damnit.

Gordon wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at the sky, scream at the injustice of a simple broken ankle.

It wasn’t fair!

Virgil’s hand caught the back of Gordon’s neck, possibly the closest he could get to a hug with the flotation ring in the way. “It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes things…just happen.”

Acute wingman senses. Damn them. Screw everything.

“I’m fine!” He kicked himself away with one pathetic leg.

And got nowhere.

Virgil had let go of his neck, but had a firm hand on the ring. “Virgil, let me go.”

“No.”

“Virgil, I’m warning you.”

“About what?”

“Goddamnit, let go!”

“No.”

He gave his brother’s arm a shove and might as well have tried to move the Island.

So Gordon did what he needed to do and let himself slip below the surface, out of the ring, and away from Virgil.

He didn’t get very far.

He had more than one brother, and while Virgil tended to be a little on the slow side underwater, their eldest brother was fast no matter the medium.

Scott swooped in before Gordon could gain any momentum and caught him around the waist.

But Gordon was a fish and Scott only a bird. Long honed reflexes had his big brother blowing bubbles and Gordon wriggling out of his grip.

Only to have Virgil clamp down on his wrist and yank him back to the surface.

Whereas Gordon had no problem with thumping Scott – they shared military training and a sparring mat on many an occasion – there was something ultimately wrong about raising a fist to Virgil. Almost as bad as doing similar to Allie. He just couldn’t, no matter how pissed.

But he could shove and scream and yell and curse and get grabbed again by Scott and pushed back under the water. With Scott he was free to fight and fight he did. But all Scott did was defend himself, and Gordon was reduced to flailing with more emotion than sense, honestly not wanting to hurt his brother, but just needing to fight against the unfairness.

Eventually, Scott grabbed a wrist, much like Virgil did earlier and dragged him back up for much needed oxygen.

By then there was more saltwater than just seawater on Gordon’s face. Less fight and more need than anything else.

And, of course, Virgil was there.

Again he was grabbed by strong arms, but this time he had no energy to resist. If anything, he welcomed them. Perhaps they could take the weight and the guilt.

If he was sobbing on his brother’s shoulder, he wasn’t going to admit it.

Fingers stroked through wet hair and Virgil repeated over and over again that it hadn’t been his fault. That he had done everything he could. That sometimes shit just happened and this time, unfortunately, it happened to that little girl.

The mention of the one he couldn’t save no matter what he did only had him sobbing harder

She had been so young.

He had tried so hard. Made the sacrifices. Fought for her life.

And lost.

It wasn’t fair.

The sea had claimed her anyway.

Part of him was horrified at his own weakness. Horrified he needed an old protocol that proved he was off his head. Horrified he was crying in his brother’s arms. Horrified that all his military training hadn’t given him enough spine to shake this off by himself.

“It isn’t fair.”

“I know.” Virgil’s voice was ever so soft in his ear.

Gordon swallowed and gathered himself together, trying to align what he felt with what was logical and sensible.

It was like trying to scale a crumbling mountain. It was hard and exhausting and it hurt.

What was meant to be was meant to be. He had to believe that. It was the only way.

Despite the need to wail against the injustice.

Virgil still had his fingers in Gordon’s hair.

He pulled away gently from his brother, looking up into those worried dark eyes. Virgil was hanging onto the flotation ring with one arm. It was the only thing keeping both of them afloat.

Gordon wiped his face with one wet hand and let out a breath.

Off to his left, a slightly bruised cheekbone supported equally worried blue eyes as Scott trod water like he was hovering.

Which he was.

Gordon squeezed Virgil’s arm gently before slipping out of his grip and paddling over to Scott.

A wordless moment and then he was hugging his biggest brother with everything he had.

Scott hugged back even tighter.

Gordon squeezed his eyes shut and clung.

“Hey, Gordo! Johnny’s got something for ya!” Alan’s voice echoed across the caldera like a warning siren.

Gordon let go of Scott and backed off. A glance at both of his brothers before he dove under the water.

He swam down deep into the basin of the caldera, skipping just over the coral edifices. A moment to settle his mind and rebuild himself.

The silence of the deep and the familiarity of his home were a balm.

He knew his time was limited by the worry warts on the surface, so he didn’t dawdle, but he did take the time he needed.

Ocean washed away all the signs of his emotional turmoil.

By the time he resurfaced, whatever was left had been shoved back into its box.

And just as well, because Alan and John stood at the top of the cliff with their arms full of pool toys. A giant pink flamingo, a huge duck, a red rocket ship – where the hell had they bought that from? A green turtle and a pile of pool noodles.

A blink and all the flotation devices were in the water, followed by a bomb by the name of Alan.

Seawater rained over all of them.

The flamingo was washed over towards Gordon and whacked him on the head.

John, dressed in a full body wetsuit providing his necessary gravity support, followed Alan in, but with much more elegance. John was almost as much fish as Gordon, after all.

Gordon grabbed onto the flamingo to save himself the energy of trying the keep afloat. He was suddenly very, very tired.

Alan, being the ball of teen-energy he was, flapped his way over and gave Gordon a hug. “Feeling better now you are in the water?” Innocent blue eyes that truly were far from innocent anymore stared up at him in hope.

“You still stole my ice cream.”

“I’ll buy you some more.”

Gordon narrowed his eyes a little. “Promise.”

“Tracy’s honour. Next time we’re in Aotearoa.”

“How about tomorrow? You and me, Auckland CBD. I’ll even take the hoverchair.”

“Really?”

“If you buy me ice cream.”

“Cool. Can we visit the game arcade?”

“I’ll consider it.” Wouldn’t want to make it too easy for his little brother.

“Mind if I join you?”

Gordon blinked as John appeared beside them.

“You want to spend time with the two of us?” Gordon may have pointed at himself and Alan with a lot of disbelief.

John wasn’t fazed at all. “Sure. Haven’t had a go an arcade for a while. Need to keep my reflexes strong.”

Alan frowned. “You’ll get us kicked out again. There is such a thing as being too good at a thing. Or something.”

Yay for Alan and English. “What he said. But you are welcome. If I can have the flamingo.”

John’s lips curled up at the edges. “It’s yours.”

“And I get the rocket!”

John snorted. “No, that’s Scott’s. You get the pool noodles.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Because you stole Gordon’s ice cream.” With that John turned and dove, disappearing long enough for Gordon to lose his location.

“Hey! That’s not fair.”

Gordon grimaced as he glanced at Scott and Virgil. “Life isn’t fair, Allie.”

“Not fair at all.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #nuttyfic

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, promoting, encouraging, justifying nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, yandere behavior, bullying, harassment, blackmail, sexual scenes, abusive relationship, manipulation, verbal abuse, abortion, attempted murder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟹 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚝.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎��𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙰𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜/𝚘.

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 .

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had known him for the longest time, probably since you were both learning the alphabet.

Even back then he was a troublesome boy.

Loved to dip your hair in paint, pour glue inside your backpack.

Or always pushed you off the swings cause he wanted to play in it.

This didn't really faze you back then.

Most of the boys that age played such tricks on almost all the girls.

They all had a specific target and you were Wooyoung's.

You remember telling this one day to your mom, who simply chuckled.

"Honey, boys tend to tease the girls they have a crush on."

You remember looking at her with confusion.

How could they treat someone they like with such utter disrespect and rudeness?

"Because they don't know how to express their feelings."

Like an idiot you believed that, and being the naive little girl you were, you kinda started developing a crush on him.

You remember the first time you talked back to him, it's engraved in your head because it was the first time of many to come where his words, and actions, hurt you.

"Just admit you like me Wooyoung! You only tease me cause you're in love with me."

You remember the rage and disgust in his eyes as he shoved you to the ground, making you scrape your knee on the pavement.

"Get this through that dumb brain of yours Y/N....

No one will ever love a dirty little rat like you."

You came home crying that day. Hurt physically and emotionally at his words.

And the years to come weren't better, as you grew up, Wooyoung's bullying towards you escalated.

You hoped that after you graduated high school and started going to university, you'd be free from him, never see him again.

You could finally be happy for once in your life. Focus on your goals and career.

Everything was going great for you!.......

Until you walked into class and found out not only had Wooyoung been accepted to the same university...

He was majoring in the same field as you!

"Hey dirty little rat. Missed me?"

His cocky smile sent shivers down your spine, you were already fearing what he had in store for you.

If you thought high school was hell, it was nowhere near as awful as the torment Wooyoung was now putting on you.

Tripping you down the stairs to the point you had severe injuries.

Writing nasty and derogatory names on your desk that now wouldn't come off and you'd be forced to look at every time you went to class.

One time he went as far as stealing your assignments, ultimately leading to failing an entire semester.

You were so heartbroken and just done with his shit. You felt no more motivation to even continue studying.

Until a cute boy named Yeonjun transferred and took an interest in you.

He was super nice, friendly and not to mention good looking and hella tall.

It was more than obvious too that he wanted establish a relationship with you, anyone and everyone could see that.

Especially Wooyoung and he did not look the way someone else was making you happy.

So he devised a plan, not caring how messed up it was.

He made sure someone convinced you to go to a party he'd be at.

You found it odd that he was suddenly acting super nice to you, not even calling you those mild nicknames he called you in front of others.

And it shocked you even more when he suddenly apologized to you for everything he'd done to you, even offering to talk to your professor about your assignment.

His eyes seemed so sincere, you actually believed him.

Perhaps he finally decided to change, realized his behavior was unnecessary and immature and of course, like an idiot you accepted his apology.

You got wasted for the first time in your life that night and could not remember anything at all.

Until Wooyoung was 'kind' enough to brief you in on what happened.

He pulled out his phone and made you watch a video he had filmed of you two that night.

Your stomach hurled over as you realized it was a fucking sex tape, you and Wooyoung had actually fucked that night.

"What! No no! This couldn't have happened! There's no way!" You refused to believe it.

Wooyoung just smirked at you.

"Oh but it did happen kitten. You were so eager too as the video displays, you kept asking me to go harder, begging me for another round and wanting my cum all over you..."

"I wonder what would the whole school say if I posted it online....especially Yeonjun."

Now you realized what his game was. He was never sorry. It was just another form of him to torture you, and this tipped the scale.

You were so shaken up, you got down on your knees and begged him not to show anyone the video.

"Please Wooyoung! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything?......really? How about becoming mine then?"

And now you were forever tied to your worst nightmare.

Wooyoung especially enjoyed seeing Yeonjun's disappointed and heartbroken look when he announced that you two were now dating.

Now he couldn't even look at you anymore, feeling somewhat betrayed by your actions.

You wanted to tell him you were sorry and explain to him what was going on, but Wooyoung had eyes on you 24/7.

He even made you move in with him and now even your free time had to be spent with him.

You hated living with him.

He not only made sure to verbally abuse you, but actually seemed to have fun causing tiny accidents to happen around you.

His favorite was when he'd peer over your shoulder as you tried to study.

He scoffed. "Why even bother if all you'll ever be good at is spreading your legs?"

Those were his favorite insults: "whore" "slut" "bitch".

One time you were just so fed up with him, that you ended up snapping back.

"Shut the fuck up Wooyoung! You're such an insufferable piece of shit, no wonder your mom left you and your dad back in middle school."

As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back in.

Wooyoung was livid at your words.

He not only yanked you up by your hair, but he actually threw you to the floor and started kicking you harshly.

He didn't kick you for too long though, he did not want to risk anyone questioning when he told them you fell down the stairs.

And especially not take you to the hospital.

You had no choice but to stay home as you tried to recuperate.

You remember one of those days, you came home from a quick trip to the convenience store and found some girl blowing Wooyoung on the couch.

You weren't fazed. He often brought girls home and fucked them right in front of you.

You just sighed and decided to ignore the shit eating grin he'd give you whenever you caught him.

You decided long ago it wasn't worth it.

You two weren't even dating cause you wanted to.

He just loved controlling you, having power over you, holding something over your head.

He had this obsessive need to make you miserable.

And you hated that you had no choice but to allow it.

Even when there were things you didn't want to do, you had to or he'd once again blackmail you.

The one time you adamantly refused to was when you found out you were pregnant.

Wooyoung was just as shocked as you.

"And you're telling me I'm the father?"

"Uh......I can't have sex with anyone who isn't you, obviously you're the father."

Wooyoung couldn't let you go through with the pregnancy.

"Get rid of it." He told you.

You wrapped a protective hand around your bump.

"No! This is my baby and I won't allow you to harm it!"

You weren't going to budge though.

"Show the tape to everyone! I don't give a fuck anymore! But I'm not killing an innocent child who has done nothing wrong. "

Realizing he was losing control of you, Wooyoung knocked you out unconscious, deciding to take matters into your own hands.

You woke up a day later, feeling sore and aching in your inner thighs and lower abdomen.

You immediately panicked and sensed something was wrong.

You didn't need Wooyoung to tell you, you knew he had taken you to a clinic and had the baby removed.

You were so shaken up, cried your eyes out and no longer had any will to fight against Wooyoung.

You felt like it all all your fault, the death of your baby was your fault.

You weren't strong enough to save it and it was killing you inside.

You no longer trusted anyone, and you didn't have the heart to talk about it to anyone. Not like they'd believe you or care about you.

But someone did notice, Yeonjun never stopped caring about you and although he was hurt you went with someone else, he still had feelings for you.

And he was very observant and noticed that ever since you started dating Wooyoung, you were skipping a lot of classes....

And you were having a lot of accidents...too many in fact.

And now he just saw you completely lost and like a walking dead.

"Hey Y/N, are you ok?" He asked you one day.

You were going to respond, but the devil made an appearance by your side.

"She's fine and was just coming home with me. Weren't you baby?"

To everyone, it looked like a sweet and caring smile from your doting boyfriend, but you knew it was all fake.

Nonetheless you just kept your head low and went home with him.

Yeonjun noticed the way you trembled when he put his arm around you, noticed the frightened look in your eyes and he knew something was wrong in your relationship.

When you got home, Wooyoung was pissed off at you and immediately struck your face.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him! Can't you obey a simple order you fucking bitch?!"

When he pulled out a knife from the kitchen, you were now scared for your life.

You tried to fight back, but Wooyoung was stronger than you and you were still in pain after the abortion.

He knocked you to the floor and managed to land 2 stab wounds into your right side.

You could never forget the wrath and hate in his eyes as he told you:

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

By some miracle, someone taller and stronger than Wooyoung got him off you, that someone being none other than Yeonjun.

He felt glad about following his hunch and followed you both back home, otherwise he'd end up reading about you in the newspaper.

He had no trouble in subduing Wooyoung and calling the police.

The only thing on his mind was getting you to the hospital as soon as possible.

"It's ok Y/N. You're going to be fine." He assured you

Your physical injuries were easy to recover from, but the emotional trauma and abuse Wooyoung put you through was not.

Yet Yeonjun was there every step of the way, going with you to therapy and just listening to you and your terrifying story.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly loved and happy....

And safe.

A year after the ordeal, you were doing much better and were nearly fully recuperated.

Yeonjun and you rented a place together and were completely in love with each other.

Everything seemed to be going perfect....

And then one day your phone rang.

Picking up, you asked "Hello?"

"Don't think it's over yet you dirty little rat."

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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years ago

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So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.

(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)

(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)

It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)

It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.

Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.

Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.

There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.

Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.

And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!

But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.

Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.

And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.

Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.

Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.

It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.

But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.

#Hades game #Hades spoilers #driveby meta attack #C plays stuff #I have so much hope!!!!~!#I have so much fear!!!!!#DO NOT TELL ME WHAT THE ANSWER IS GOING TO BE!!!!!

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bakubabes-tatakae · 3 years ago

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A/N: I hope you all enjoy part 4/4 of my pieces for day four of the anniversary collab for the @konoblog-simps. You can find all the lovely pieces for the day here! Today’s theme was song pieces and the last piece I have for this day is a little different than anything I’ve ever written before. You can find all the days of the collab here!

Pairing: Dabi x fem!Reader

Song Choice: Partners In Crime by Set It Off

Warnings: character death, violence, robbery, angst, fluff (in a way)

Word Count: 1.9k

“You'll never take us alive

We swore that death will do us part

They'll call our crimes a work of art”

If there was one thing that always felt right, it was when Dabi and yourself got to work together. It wasn’t often that Shigaraki would let the two of you handle a job on your own, this was one of those rare occasions.

Shigaraki would never let the two of you live down the time that the two of you had spent an entire mission in the hotel room you had rented and forgotten about your actual goal. He had learned his lesson and no longer sent the two of you anywhere that meant you had to stay overnight if others were involved. And Shigaraki knew that your judgment was usually clouded by each other when the going got tough, but he expected that from a couple.

And just like the mission that had put that thought in his head, this one was about to take a turn as well. You hadn’t known that one of the staff members had hit the button under the desk before Dabi had managed to threaten them. This wasn’t supposed to happen today.

Sirens were growing louder and louder in the distance as you began to grow uneasy. You looked over at Dabi and at back the hostages that sat around you, careful not to let them know that you were nervous.

Dabi smiled at you, keeping that air of confidence over himself. His voice was steady and self-assured as he pointed toward you, keeping his other palm open and pointed toward the hostages, ready to activate his quirk when he needed to. “They’ll never take us alive, dollface”

As much as Dabi hated to admit it, he was a little nervous as well. You slowly walked toward him, making sure to keep your quirk active, jamming the phones and other electronics in the area. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep these signals jammed. My time limit is coming up.”

Dabi slowly approached you and placed a hand under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “They’ll call our crimes a work of art, Mi Amor.”

“You'll never take us alive

We'll live like spoiled royalty

Lovers and partners

Partners in crime”

You stared into his eyes, his slightly glancing over at the people on the ground to make sure they didn’t move. His words rang through your ears again as he soothed you. “They’ll never be able to catch us, my darling. We’ll always be partners in crime.”

His words calmed you a little and made you realize what he had been saying. No matter the cost, these officers will never take you in. Dabi would never let that happen. He’d do whatever he had to do to make sure that you were never behind bars. Even if it cost him his life.

“This a tale of reckless love

Living a life of crime on the run

A brush to a gun

To paint these states green and red”

“This money is going to be ours, and we’re going to live like royalty once we get it from them.” He let your face back down and walked backward. He lifted the edge of his shirt and smiled as the gun in his waistband flashed in your eyes. “We’ll get this money and get out of here if I have to shoot our way out.”

Your confidence in him lifted as the evil face he wore so well came back, a growl coming from him as he turned back to the hostages, letting a flame grow on his palm while leaving the gun uncovered.

“Everybody freeze.” Dabi watched as they started to shift around, growing uneasy the closer he came to them.

Dabi reached into the back of his jeans and another gun became visible. He gripped the handle and tossed it to you, nodding toward them. He wanted your help. You held the gun up and pointed it toward them. “Nobody move.”

Dabi grabbed the wrist of one of the staff members and yanked them from the floor, his flames close to them as he laughed. “Take me out back,” He grabbed the bag from the floor and tossed it at the young girl. “Let’s go.”

As he disappeared into the distance you could faintly hear his voice. You kept your weapon trained on them but showed them that it wasn’t all that you had. A crack of electricity snapped around your body as you made it clear that it wouldn’t take much to take them out.

His voice was angry as he raised it toward the girl. “Put the money in the bag or I’ll shoot.” The same self-assured voice came back as he threatened more. “Or better yet, I’ll use you for kindling for my flames.”

There was a pause as you heard a clink come from a safe unlocking. “Empty out the vault and me and my doll will be on our way.”

As he came back around the corner he held his gun up, the bag strapped around his shoulders and his flames erupted even higher around everyone. Your electricity still crackled around you as you were cautious not to take your gun from their sight. “It’s been fun ladies and gentlemen, but I think it’s time that we depart.”

Dabi chuckled as he looked around, now believing that the two of you were about to make it out of this building without any consequences so far. But could you keep that going? He looked to the girl that had just brought him out back and winked a little. “And a special thank you to you, doll.”

A faint sound in the distance caught your attention, almost like someone was hollering outside. You looked around and waited, but when you thought it disappeared you continued on your way. You shook your head and looked back to Dabi. “Love, I think it’s time we get going. We have the money, we can’t stick around. What if someone outside has made a call?”

He nodded in agreement. “We’d love to stick around, but we’ve got things to do and people to see.”

Dabi walked quickly toward the door and stopped, holding his arm out to you to stop you as well. “Damn it. You were right.”

You realized what he was looking at as he swallowed hard. Your nervous voice was barely audible for him. “Where are we gonna go?”

“Shit.” Dabi’s gears turned quickly, he had to figure this out and soon. “They’ve got us pinned.”

As he looked over at you your fear was visible. It was not that he was glad that he had you turned toward him and not facing the people that were still obeying his every word. Your voice was small and worrisome as he listened. “Baby, I'm a little scared.”

There was only one officer out there. The two of you could take him no problem, but he had to figure out how to get out without him alarming more officers to swarm you. Dabi’s tone was harsher than he meant it to be as he barked at you. “Now don't you quit.”

You recoiled at his words and his face softened as he noticed it. Apology written in his eyes as he grabbed onto you. You pleaded with him. “Dabi.” He hated to see you like this and it was now that he was wondering why he had worked so hard to get you out of the hero life and into the villain’s life. Had he been selfish? “They’ve sounded the alarm. I hear the sirens closing in.”

The sound of tires screeching made you both peek around the corner again. More officers approached and you were now surrounded. "This is sheriff’s department!" The speaker from the cars was loud as they called out to you. "Come out with your hands up!" Dabi’s grip on your waist was tighter as he gave you the look that you had been waiting for. "We have the place surrounded!"

He began to move forward, holding his gun out with the hand that wasn’t now gripped to your own. You held yours up as you followed him. "Put your weapons down!" You both ignored their calls as you prepared yourselves for what was about to happen. They repeated themselves as they realized that you weren’t listening. "Put your weapons down!" Dabi looked over at you and you stared back into the eyes of the man that you loved. "Ready men!" His eyes were filled with nothing but admiration as he came to grips with what the two of you were doing. "Aim!" You would never be apart. He wouldn’t let it happen. And you loved him too much to leave him alone. You were meant to be with each other and it was until your demise that you would be that way.

As you watched Dabi’s smile paint his face you thought back on all of the things the two of you had done together, even if your life had been shorter than planned. The nights you had spent in his arms, the days you had spent in each other’s company. All the times you had shared a bed together, every time he told you just how much he loved you. The love that you would share for eternity, in life and in death. They hadn’t won and your sense of accomplishment outweighed the fear that you had as the next word rang out around you, echoing off the building behind you. "Fire!"

“The skies are black with lead-filled rain

A morbid painting on display

This is the night the young love died

Buried at each other’s side”

The League would never understand why their friends had let this happen to themselves. When the television had shown the robbery and showed small glimpses of the people that were leading it, they had known your mission had failed. As they watched you both step out the door and stand in front of the officers their hearts dropped.

Toga stood from her seat and felt her eyes welling with tears. “Please, no.” Her best friends were making the ultimate sacrifice, she couldn’t watch this. “Why would they do that?”

Shigaraki took a deep breath as he listened to the voice of the officers speaking to the two of you. He couldn’t believe he was about to lose two of his best members. Your voice was heard above the commotion as the two of you got the last words. “You never took us alive.”

Dabi smirked and narrowed his eyes. “We swore that death would do us part.”

As the words left his mouth the members of the League watching heard the officer holler out that last order. “Fire.” As the sound of gunshots filling the area erupted from the television the camera panned away, not wanting the viewers to see what was happening in the area.

Twice hung his head and looked around. “Young love died today, but they’ll be together forever now. As it was always meant to be.”

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @ellechanwrites @barrysimpparker @impinthecloset @nikiniki743 @taliyahvermillion @maat-the-prescriptive @tetsuminx @gonuclear

©bakubabes-hatake’s original content, please do not repost/modify without my permission

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spitpr1ncess · 3 years ago

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BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 7 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

(not my image)

You thumb the heavy notes whilst mulling over the last twenty four hours, you’re completely unsure if you’re even awake, convinced that you might still be sleeping, that you never went clubbing with Harmony, going as far as never having that interaction with Levi at the jewellery stand.

Levi.

You count up the notes again, pausing at each one and lifting it up to the sunlight, shining in, unusually calm and warming your arms as you check the real-ness of the cash sat in front of you. To the side of you, Harmony stirs, you stop dead and glance at her, as a new-borns mother would at her baby should she hear sounds coming from its bassinet, you finally move after deciding that she remains in a deep slumber.

“Two thousand pounds,” you whisper, it feels perverse, wrong, and dirty after last nights affairs. You shudder as you reminisce of the sounds the tear in Reiner’s throat emitted, unhuman you think, terrifying. Silent tears splash down your face as you realize just how dangerous Boss is, you think back to the perverted smile he wore, how you were sure he had a hard-on as he reminded you all of the immense power that belongs to him, how like helpless little lambs you all are.

You roll the notes up and wrap the hairband back around the fat wad, you consider the possibility of keeping it, but ultimately, you know you can’t, keeping them would be to admit to Levi that his suspicions about your running away were real, that you needed him. You knew you still couldn’t trust him, nothing he said meant anything to you, after last night, it could all be a trap, a trap to have you caught in. Like sticky honey lures a sweet brown bear in, how the bees sting, and sting, and sting, until he’s crying out in pain, completely helpless and then they leave him for dead. There was one thing you were absolutely sure of, and that was that you had no intention of being left for dead. Boss was playing a game, and a game was what you’d give him.

Leaving Harmony to the deep rest she so needed, you headed toward the kitchen, the air was thick and ugly, no sounds filling the hallways, just the quiet tapping of Jools keyboard as he typed away at his desk. His eyes meet yours as you quietly approach the desk, you can tell by the look on his face that he knows what went down, he knows, and he isn’t sure what to say. You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“I’m looking for Levi, where can I find him?” Your ears flush red as Jools glares at you with the same temperament a wolf might have before it devours you whole, he wiggles a finger, beckoning you toward him.

“Are you an idiot, are you trying to get killed, or are you just really fucking stupid?” His words cut deep and you wince, the cringe on his face indicating that he didn’t mean to be so brash, he continues, “Sorry Olive, it’s just after,” he whispers quieter again, “last night, why are you actively searching for him? Do you not understand how fucking careful you all need to be?” You can tell that he just wants to protect you, like he always has, but you don’t need protecting, you haven’t asked for it. What you need, is to throw two thousand pounds at the feet of a very stupid man. You weigh up your options.

“It’s not like… that, I just need to speak to him about Harmony, about last night, what happened to the… body,” you’re lying through your teeth and exploiting poor Harmony for what? A get back? You push on, “I promise Jools, its not like that. Now please tell me, or I’ll go calling.” You’re pushing your luck, Jools loves you, yes, but he has the complete authority to have you locked away in your room if he so as thought you were acting suspiciously.

Jools fights you with his eyes, begging for you to not do this, he can sense that there is something more, that you’re feeling for Levi, even if you can’t see it yet, and he’s seen the way Levi is always checking up on you, how his eyes follow you, that incident at the jewelry stand only enticed him, he finds you endearing, and truly, he’s scared of losing you. Whether you and Levi are planning to run away together, or whether he will have to bury your blood soaked corpse in the forest, tie a heavy rock to you and drag you to the river. Like everyone, the Reiner incident has shaken him to the core, he sighs, you are persistent and he knows that you won’t give up.

“He should be in the meadow around lunchtime, he’s on patrol this morning so there is no point approaching him now, with everyone around, you’ll only be asking for trouble, okay? Just promise me you won’t go with him, please? After everything, you have me, we have each other!” the tone in his desperate beg is pathetic and weak, you can see that he believes you and Levi are fraternizing, and oh how wrong he is. You didn’t care about Levi, and likewise for him, with you! The flirting at the club, it was an unwelcome joke. The apology, a lie. The money, a trick.

“Jools, he is playing games with me, trying to get me to admit I am plotting something sinister, his loyalty sits with Boss, and mine? With you. You are the older brother I have always needed. You don’t need to worry about me! I am simply going to clarify the Reiner incident, Levi needs to know, I am not a thing to be toyed with, I am happy here.” It’s all the truth, except for the lie about being happy. You knew that, and Jools knew it too. You had to sell the lie to everyone and you couldn’t risk even one person knowing about your plans, Jools knowing you were lying about being happy didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t know you were planning to escape, right?

He lets out a defeated sigh, his trust in you was tenfold but something wasn’t sitting right, he just wasn’t sure what it was. “Okay Olive, I trust you not to lie to me, you know that, so, just be safe. For me.” Your heart begins to slam against your ribcage with the anxiety of knowing you were going to leave him behind one day, but you push those thoughts back. Not now, you tell yourself. You lean over Jools desk and place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you big brother, I love you.” It’s a cheap shot, playing with his emotions like that, you know that he has other feelings for you and the kiss might give him hope, but the big brother will slam him back into that sibling-friend-zone, manipulating people has never been something you have enjoyed, but in a place like this, sometimes, it has to be done.

Lunchtime approaches quickly after you returned to your room, finding Harmony awake and screaming silently once again, working as her crutch, you feed her oatmeal, undress and bathe her, soothe her tears with soft tissues and wrap her in your bed linen again, you cradle her and she wets your shoulder with the hurt pouring from her eyes that just won’t stop. You whisper quiet “shh’s” in her ears like you would to silence a new-born baby, Harmony finally goes to speak, it comes out in splutters and chokes, like someone is holding her head underwater.

“I… I… Why, I don’t…. I… It’s all my fault… All.. All… All my fault Olive!... Go… Gone… Because of… Because of… Me!” her inbreaths as she spits the words out with absolute difficulty sound excruciating, you cradle her head into the crook of your neck, you’ve no idea what to say, so you focus on your actions, you allow her to voice her feelings, her hurt, her heartbreak. You think back to Harmony saying they were on a break, how you know she was infatuated with him, she just knew it was wrong. Your mind wanders back to Reiner’s quick end, you see cold, grey eyes boring into you this time, black hair spilling onto pale skin, a garish grin is shot at you, Levi. You shake your head to bring an abrupt end to the ugly day dream.

You lay Harmony down, she’s no longer sobbing, and is just staring, not a thought behind her broken eyes, they are glossed over and exhausted, hurt, confused. You kiss her forehead and then her nose, “I’ll be back Harm, I’m just going to run a few errands… I love you.” You await some recognition but nothing comes, you wonder if Harmony even knows you’re there, assuming she is too shocked to tell, you slip on your black shoes and pull a satchel over your shoulder, checking for the roll of notes you’d stashed in there earlier. Taking a deep breath and stretching your lungs, you head out.

As you pass Jools in the main entrance, he gives you a weak smile, be safe, it says, you smile back and give a small wave before heading through the big wooden doors and out onto the large drive of the property. You swing a left and head for the meadows, looking for the familiar mop of black hair, your heart beginning to race, you consider what you will say, approaching the highest point of the first field, you scan around for him. Nothing.

“Well, this could be embarrassing” you speak to the wind, if he were to arrive now, it’d be like you were waiting for him, and that is not the impression you want to give off, you decide to head for the stables, figuring you might take one of the horses out for a ride around the meadows, it was a good day for it, and to be honest, the distraction is welcome. As you approach the stables, you hear a high pitched giggle coming from within, a pitched up and familiar giggle, one you might use to appease a man from whom you want something, you crouch and listen for a moment.

“Please Mr Ackerman? How come you’ll fuck the runt but not me? I’ll give you my wage slips for the month! I know you want to!” Its Leia. She’s the biggest shit stirrer out of all the girls you live with, she brands herself the kind of, “head girl” even though nobody appointed it to her, you guessed she was referring to you as the “runt”, and usually it would hurt but it was only a name used by her and you were curious to hear what he had to say, intrigued by his thoughts, even though you didn’t really care.

“I was under orders Leia, and you know that. I have no interest in you or want to pursue whatever it is that you’re trying to get from me. You should also consider being nicer to the girls you home yourself with too, they’re the only ones that will have your back and if you continue to bully them, you’ll find yourself completely isolated. Now I suggest you fuck off before I send for someone to collect you.” You can tell he isn’t even looking at her when he says this, his direction completely focused on the task he was currently completing, you roll your eyes at his clap back about bullying, you don’t need him to stand up for you. He’s just a stupid old man.

“You might have been under orders, but I saw the way you hung around after, I heard the way you fucked her. You might be an idiot, but I know what it sounds like when a man is full of lust y’know, it’s my job.” She spits, obviously angered by his lack of interest in her and trying to get a rise from him, without realizing, your foot slips and a small rock tumbles towards the pair.

Silence.

You hear them both look towards the door in which you are crouched behind. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes widen.

Fuck.

“Who is there?” Levi demands. You spin and head towards a collection of haybales behind the farm building, you slip yourself between two of them, balling into the foetal position and waiting to hear them continue, your heart is racing around a track, unable to slow down, your breathing shallow and almost non-existent. You hear footsteps approach and fearing the worst, you prepare to fight your cause. You peer up towards the sky, waiting for someone to lean over and expose your hiding spot, nobody does.

“There isn’t anybody here!” Leia calls. You’re not confident enough to believe you are safe yet, betting on Levi’s bat hearing or his dog like ability to smell out pathetic prey.

“Then now is a prime time to leave, go back to whatever it is you do, and leave me in peace. Go on.”, him turning his attention back to Leia feels good, feels safe. You’ll be able to have this all done and dusted soon, just a few more minutes.

“Fuck you Ackerman,” she spits on the floor, “I was trying to do you a solid but fuck you, you’re lucky a girl like me would even consider someone like you.” She turns and storms off. It’s not unusual for the girls to try and get the attention of Boss’s men but not many of them were prepared to risk themselves and their lives for a little forbidden wet comfort, Levi was one of them it seems. It gives you a little ego boost knowing that he wasn’t interested, but you soon shake it off when you remember he definitely has ulterior motives, you decide to lay low for a few more minutes, to ensure you’re totally alone, just the two of you but you notice that Levi doesn’t continue with his task, in fact, he hasn’t moved at all.

“You can come out now, stupid girl.” You should have known better than to expect you could hide from him, though he doesn’t sound angry, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge, like you’re full of static. You climb out of your hidey-hole and are met with a pair of crossed arms, and a look of pure entertainment.

“Spying on me?” he laughs, physically relaxing, he runs his right hand though his hair, scratching gently at the undercut beneath, you stiffen as you notice his completely relaxed stature, how come he is so calm?! You skip straight past the niceties and reach for the wad of cash, you stride towards him, grabbing his left hand and forcing his fingers to close around the money.

“Whatever stupid fucking trap you’re trying to set for me, it won’t work. I’m not an idiot, I’m not trying to run away, and I don’t want any part of whatever game it is you’re playing, leave me alone.” The words are clear as crystal glass, he should understand. You puff your chest as you stand proud of the way you stood up for yourself, you stare into his cold, grey eyes as he glares back.

“I’m not playing a game, I’m not setting a trap, and I don’t think you’re an idiot. If anything, I think I underestimated you. At one point I would have cared about your wanting to run away, which you can’t deny, I know you’re planning it, because I am too, and the money isn’t for your running away savings, its an apology for what I did to you, if not to help you, it’s to help me settle my conscience. There.”

Oh.

The air is uncomfortable as you both stand, filled with tension and each too prideful to speak first when Levi turns around. He reaches into the breast pocket of his unbuttoned white shirt and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, he takes one and slides it between his lips, turning to look at you, he offers the open box, it’s a friendly gesture and there doesn’t seem to be any underlying malice, like a dog cowering in a corner you gently reach out a hand and take one. Levi senses your unease and cringes, “I said the other night, I’m not a complete monster, and I think we got off on the wrong foot. I was just doing my job. I feel really, well, awful. I just want to clarify that the money is still for you, I don’t care about your plans to run away, really, I don’t.” He lights a match and holds it up to the end of his cig, extending his hand he offers to light yours. He places it against the flame and you allow the end to be engulfed, bringing it to your lips, you inhale deeply.

You both stand in silence for a moment before you ask, “You plan to run away?” its an easy enough question and you’re curious for the answer, that’s all. You still don’t trust him and you don’t want to fuel his suspicions regardless of how he’s coming off now.

“It’s not that simple for me. Dom, I mean Boss, he saved me. From the underground, the gangs and basically death. I was a nasty, family-less runt.” He looks away, “For me to run away, it’s a complete betrayal, he will hunt me to the ends of this reality and into the next. Levi would have to disappear and I’d have to become… Someone else, I shouldn’t be telling you this, it’s not like you care.” You ponder his statement, how he’d have to disappear.

“You’re pretending, trying to trick me into opening up to you. Well, it’s not working. Boss has asked you to do this, he’s put you up to it, right?” it’s a stretch, especially with the info that Levi was giving you, it was unlikely that he would be kidding around, still you consider the possibility of him playing along just to get an ounce of confirmation.

He sighs.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to believe. I won’t hound you anymore, if you don’t want the money, don’t take it. Its to soothe my guilty conscience anyway.” He takes a final inhale and stubs his cigarette out. You follow suit doing the same, as you pull it away for the last time a string of saliva joins it back to your peachy lips. Before you have time to wipe it away, Levi’s collected it with the pad of his thumb. Time stops as you make eye contact with him, and without realizing you’ve taken it into your soft mouth, Levi’s breath hitches in his throat as your tongue lolls around his thumb, tasting the salty dirt from his laborious morning. The sudden realization of the situation unfolding hits you like a tonne of bricks, you’re frozen with him sitting pretty in your mouth, his gaze hazy and his breathing ragged. Surely a liar would not have these reactions, would not have reached out to do such an intimate act of cleaning you. Levi drops his hand to his side and shifts uncomfortably.

Dropping your cigarette to the ground you stub it out, “I’m uh… I’m sorr…” you start, but before you have time to finish, Levi’s tongue is prying your lips apart, his hands gentle on the back of your head, one shifting through your chestnut locks, he groans into your mouth.

You don’t have time to think about what you’re doing before you find yourself pressing back, meeting his desperate kiss, imitating his behaviours, letting out the tiniest of whimpers. His hands feel protective and safe as he rummages through your hair, as though he wants to lose himself, it’s not like last time, now, he’s soft, gentle, and kind. The whimper edges him on as he litters small kisses down your neck, sucking and biting your pale earlobe.

“I can’t help myself,” he breathes, “I know I shouldn’t, I know this is wrong”. He continues his descent down your fragile throat and to your protruding collarbones.

“Ever since you fell asleep in that damned meadow, I’ve been given the task of watching you, the way you live, the way you take pleasure in the stupidest, smallest things. The way men talk about you, it drives me insane. I hate it. I feel like I want to protect you. I’m sorry for that time, I really am. I’m sorry you’re stuck here.” He’s rough as he continues to kiss and nibble down your neck. Your whimpers turn to little sobs as your heart breaks in half listening to this hard and stoic man gush about you, you’re confused, unsure and vulnerable.

“Stop it,” you say, “you don’t even know who I am! You’re confused, you need to snap out of it! You and I? There’s nothing here! We’re just lonely! The inspection? Boss would have done it himself, it doesn’t mean anything! The flirting at the club? I was humiliated after what happened, I needed to regain some control.” I still don’t even know if you’re pretending to catch me! He pulls away and his hard eyes are softer, he looks at your lips and then back to meet your gaze.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about me then.” The question is like a double sided dagger. If you answer yes, you might be caught, if you answer no, you risk lying and never having the chance to explore what could be… What could be?! After last night?! You’re joking! Your inner critic is going insane, screaming at you she begs for you to listen to yourself.

You stare at him coldly.

“I haven’t.” You step away and stare at your feet, bringing an arm across your body to protect yourself from him.

“Liar. But okay, I’ll leave you, just, please, take the money, I want you to have it, for my sake, please.” It’s a feeble beg at this point and you succumb to the pressure. He turns to you and holds it out, stepping forward, you take the money and stand on your tip toes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“I still don’t trust you, but thank you.” And with that, you turn away and walk back towards the house, beginning to wonder if Harmony has awoken yet, if she’s managed to eat anything, how she’s coping.

You’re not sure what to make of the interaction with Levi, part of you enjoyed his lips on yours, pined for it, wanted more, but after last night, you know you can’t risk it. Furthermore, you’re not sure what Levi’s true intentions are.

You sigh and continue back inside, Jools meets you with anxious eyes and you wave him off but he seems to visibly relax as you trudge past him to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #fem reader #original character #bruised bodies #bb #spit princess #spitty writes #archive of our own #fanfic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #levi ackerman #jean kistein #eren jaeger

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pikapeppa · 4 years ago

Text

Professor Solas AU: Wrong

Chapter 7 of Inadvisable (Solas +Abelas + Felassan modern university AU) is posted!

In which Tamaris decides whether to bother replying to Felassan’s message, and Solas talks shop with Abelas... then fantasizes thinks about Nare.

~4500 words; read on AO3 instead.

*********************

- TAMARIS -

Tamaris opened the apartment door for Feynriel and gave him a stern look. “All right, follow those aftercare instructions properly. No swimming, no scented moisturizer shit.”

Feynriel nodded and smiled, then winced. “Ow. Smiling hurts my face.”

Tamaris smirked. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you get tattoos on your cheeks. It’ll stop hurting in a couple of days.” She tapped the aftercare instruction pamphlet in his hand. “If you have questions, problems, you call me, okay?”

He nodded and stepped out of the apartment. “Okay. Thanks again, Tamaris. For the history lesson and everything as well as the vallaslin.”

“Anytime,” she said. She waited for him to make his way down the stairs, then closed the door behind him and went to clean up the detritus of their tattoo session.

She padded down the hallway that led toward Athera’s bedroom and turned into the fourth bedroom, which did double-duty as her tattoo studio and Nare’s art studio. She threw away the crumpled witch hazel and alcohol wipes and the unused tattoo ink, and as she placed the used needle into the sharps container, she made a mental note to change the nearly-full container to a new one.

She sighed wearily as she wiped the counter down with bleach; she already had another full sharps container in the corner, so it was probably time to take them all to the pharmacy down the street to dispose of them properly.

When the space was clean once more, Tamaris plopped down onto her padded stool with a sigh, then reached for her phone. Just as she was about to pick it up, she remembered the message she’d received that morning.

Her belly jolted. She hesitated for a second, then picked up her phone and swiped through to her PMs on Instagram.

felassan 08:13AM Deep mushroom sometime?

She huffed to herself. She could practically see his shit-eating grin in the letters on her screen.

She pursed her lips as she studied the short message. In all honesty, she was surprised to hear from him. After coming home from the mixer last night with Athera and Nare, Tamaris had spent some time wondering why the fuck Felassan had left her in the alley instead of coming home with her, and she could only conclude that she must have offended him somehow. She had a tendency to do that, after all; when you were as short-tempered and indelicate as Tamaris could be, pissing people off kind of came with the territory.

It must have been when she called him a playboy. Everything seemed like it was going fine until that point. But that’s hardly an insult if it’s true, she thought in disgruntlement. Despite Felassan’s protests that he wasn’t a smooth operator, she didn’t believe him. She had no reason to believe him, after all. He was a handsome and charming man who seemed to know all the right things to say to soften her up, and the way he kissed her was nothing short of perfectly seductive, so of course she didn’t believe him.

Tamaris ultimately went to bed last night concluding that even if she had offended Felassan, it was for the best. Someone that handsome and smooth-talking could only be full of shit, so she was better off without him.

But then she’d woken up around ten to find that he had messaged her early this morning. The fact that he’d contacted her had thrown her off so much that she’d closed the app and not replied.

Now, almost five hours after he’d sent that message, Tamaris still hadn’t replied. And she wasn’t sure she even should. What was the point, after all? She didn’t want anything other than simple and uncomplicated sex. This contact with Felassan was already more complicated than it needed to be, with his whole disappearing act last night followed by this coy message on Instagram this morning.

Too much trouble, she thought, and she closed the app once more. But as she sat there on her stool with her phone dangling from her hand, she couldn’t help but think about some of the things he’d said last night.

He’d said she was looking for a reason to smile. It sounded like a smooth line, but there was something about the way he said it that made her think he actually meant it. Something about the look on his face, like he somehow knew what it was like to be looking for a reason to be optimistic and hopeful and all that shit.

And if he really did mean it, if he really did think she’d been searching the for a reason to smile…

All the more reason to avoid him, she thought grumpily. The last thing she needed was someone who was going to act like he knew her based solely on the look on her face.

She sat idly on her stool for a few minutes. Then she opened Instagram and swiped through to Felassan’s profile.

It was devoid of any helpful insights, unfortunately. His profile was empty with no photos at all, not even a profile photo.

Fucking weird, she thought. She stared at her screen for a moment longer, then swiped back to her PMs.

felassan 8:13AM Deep mushroom sometime?

She stared at the message for a moment. Then, before she could change her mind, she replied.

tamaris_tattoos 12:43PM your empty insta makes you look like a predator. or a grandma

She minimized the app without waiting for a response and checked her emails instead. She read through her emails for a minute, then returned to Instagram.

felassan 12:43PM Is that how you speak to all of your potential clients?

She scoffed before replying.

tamaris_tattoos 12:45PM shut the fuck up. you’re not a potential client

felassan 12:45PM Not with that charmingly rude attitude, I’m not.

tamaris_tattoos 12:45PM what do you want then

felassan 12:45PM A repeat of last night wouldn’t go amiss.

Her heart skipped a beat, but he was typing another message.

felassan 12:45PM The deep mushroom, I mean. Whoever your source is, the quality of their product is excellent.}

Tamaris smirked despite herself. He was such a cheeky shithead.

tamaris_tattoos 12:45PM no source. i grow my own and no, i won’t sell you any, so don’t bother to ask

felassan 12:45PM I wouldn’t dare ask. It wouldn’t be the same if I couldn’t enjoy the taste of your lips on the joint.

She barked out a laugh before replying.

tamaris_tattoos 12:46PM you’re so full of shit lol you say you’re not a playboy and then you throw down a line like that

felassan 12:46PM And yet you replied. With a ‘lol’ to boot. I must be doing something right.

tamaris_tattoos 12:46PM you’re fucking bold you know that

felassan 12:46PM Only when I’m deeply inspired. But I will back off if that’s what you want.

Tamaris hesitated for a long moment. She hated to admit it, but his cleverness was extremely attractive. And the way he kissed her last night…

She nibbled the inside of her cheek for a second. Then, slowly, she tapped out another message.

tamaris_tattoos 12:47PM fine. drinks later. what’s your number

felassan 12:47PM Now who’s bold?

tamaris_tattoos 12:47PM for fuck’s sake do you want to meet up or not

felassan 12:47PM I would be honoured. Let me know the time and place. 519-555-3352

tamaris_tattoos 12:48PM ok i’m not bringing any deep mushroom though so you’re shit out of luck if that’s what you wanted

felassan 12:48PM I assure you that deep mushroom is the last thing on my mind.

She huffed and closed the app. He was way too smooth. There was no way he wasn’t a playboy.

It was fine, though. She’d just meet up with him, have a drink, fuck him, and then she’d never have to see him again.

Good plan, she told herself. She went back to her bedroom and grabbed her laptop, then sat down in the living room to read her emails and messages from possible clients until her two o’clock client arrived. But as she looked through the reference pics that one possible client had sent her, she found herself thinking about Felassan and his surprising lack of tattoos – specifically of vallaslin.

She supposed she shouldn’t be that surprised that Arlathani elves didn’t share the same traditions as Dalish elves. The elves that had eventually split off into the Dalish clans had left Arlathan hundreds of years ago, after all. Maybe even a thousand years ago? Athera would know the exact dates if she was here. Regardless, it was long enough for traditions to change. But still, the way Felassan described the difference between the Dalish and the Arlathani elves was interesting: so far removed as to be incomparable. That was a pretty intriguing statement, if Tamaris was honest. Not to mention that thing he’d said about there being a reason he had decided to stay in Orlais instead of going back to Arlathan…

She mulled this over for a moment, then shrugged it off. It’s probably just a ploy, she thought. All part of his charm to try and get her interested enough to see him again. And here she was, falling into his charming trap.

She tsked at herself and got up to make a cup of coffee. It’s not falling into his trap if this is the last time I see him, she thought. And really, that’s all there was to it: she’d see him this one time, have sex with him, and that would be the end of it. It’s not like she was emotionally equipped to actually fall for anyone, anyway.

And certainly not for a smooth-as-fuck player like Felassan.

- SOLAS -

Late that afternoon, after all the students and research assistants had gone home, Solas sat at the desk in his office staring absently at his computer screen.

He really should be working. He had meant to finish editing the response piece he was submitting to the Journal of Orlesian History by tomorrow afternoon, and he had an early meeting with Merrill in the morning, so tonight was really the only time he had to finish the edits.

He put on his reading glasses and signed into his computer, then opened the response piece and stared at it without taking in a single word. He really needed to focus, but his thoughts were spinning fruitlessly through his head like leaves in a windstorm, and they kept coming back to Nare.

Nare, the irresistible woman from the bar last night — the student from the bar last night.

Nare, his Master’s student.

He rubbed his forehead. It still felt surreal that the beautiful and tempting woman who had approached him so boldly at the bar last night was his new Master’s student.

And to his shame, the fact that she was his student hadn’t diminished his interest in her at all.

Quite the opposite, in fact. In his art theory and critique seminar today, she had asked so many incisive questions about the ancient Elvhen principles of art criticism that he’d had a hard time keeping a straight face while answering her. And then she’d actually engaged him in a rousing debate about whether those principles were still relevant today when there was so much interaction between different forms and traditions of art. Solas was as impressed by the quality of Nare’s logic as he was by the fact that she dared to debate with him — something that few students did.

All in all, she was proving to be just as keen and inquisitive as she was beautiful. And for Solas, this was a terrible problem.

He blew out a bracing breath. It is not a problem, he assured himself; after all, he and Nare both wanted the same thing: a good mentor-student relationship. And her behaviour during the seminar had been very professional.

If he didn’t count the intense way she watched him during the lecture portion of his seminar, or those mischievous little smiles she gave him when no one else was looking.

He frowned at himself and ran a hand over his scalp as though to brush the thoughts away. There was no reason for him to think that she was trying to flirt with him during the seminar with her oceanic eyes or her little smiles. He was probably just imagining her to be a vixen because of the way she’d approached him last night.

That was over now, though. He ought to forget entirely about the Nare he had met last night at the campus bar, and focus solely on the Nare who was his clever and sharp-minded Master’s student.

He sighed. If only he wasn’t finding her intelligence as alluring as her smile or the enticing curve of her spine.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Solas’s heart leapt into his throat. Was it possible that it was Nare?

He cleared his throat subtly. “Yes?” he called.

When Abelas opened the door, Solas couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or disappointed. “Abelas,” he greeted. “Are you heading home shortly?”

“Not yet,” Abelas said. He entered the office and closed the door behind him. “I wanted to discuss a few things with you before we part ways for the night.”

“Certainly,” Solas said. “What’s on your mind?”

Abelas handed him a report. “The waitlists for our program’s classes are growing longer still. We should consider speaking to the head of the history department about an increase in class sizes.”

Solas scanned the first page of the report, then looked up at Abelas in surprise. “The waitlist for your fourth-year literature class has more students than the class itself.”

“You see the problem, then,” he said.

“This is not a problem,” Solas said. “This is excellent.” He smiled at Abelas. “You should be pleased that your class is so popular.”

“Hm,” Abelas grunted. “Your first- and second-year classes are also particularly in demand.”

“Not the upper year ones, however,” Solas said drolly.

Abelas raised one eyebrow. “It seems that your reputation precedes you, Fen’Harel.”

Solas laughed. “Hearing that nickname from Felassan is bad enough. Am I to suffer it from you as well, then?”

Abelas grunted again, and Solas fondly noted the twitch of a near-smile at the corner of Abelas’s mouth. Then Abelas pointed to the report. “Speaking of Felassan: his courses are overly popular as well.” He folded his arms. “I believe it’s because he is being too lenient with grading.”

“What makes you think that?” Solas asked.

“He said as much today,” Abelas said.

Solas frowned. “He did?”

“Yes, when he was speaking to Athera.”

Solas relaxed. “Ah. It was more than likely a joke.”

Abelas pursed his lips. “I have my doubts. I will find some time to audit his classes in the next two weeks.”

“Why?” Solas said in surprise.

“To ensure that he is fulfilling his duties properly.”

Solas eyed him with growing exasperation. Abelas has always had an admirable devotion to his work, but ever since they had come to Orlais, his devotion had almost become an obsession.

“I don’t believe that such extreme measures are necessary,” Solas said.

Abelas frowned. “It doesn’t bother you to imagine him making a mockery of our work here? You would rather let him have free reign than allow me to audit his classes?”

Solas raised his eyebrows at Abelas’s waspish tone, then slowly sat back in his chair. “It is not my place to allow you to do anything,” he said evenly. “You are the program director, after all.”

Abelas clenched his jaw, and Solas sympathetically regarded his longtime friend. “You are doing it again, you know,” he said gently. “Taking on more than is necessary to keep things running smoothly.”

“I am not taking on too much,” Abelas snapped. “I am doing what my duty requires of me.”

Solas steadily met his eyes, then switched to Elvhen. “This is not the military, Abelas.”

“I am aware of that,” Abelas retorted.

“Are you?”

Abelas clenched his jaw and looked away before speaking in the common tongue once more. “I will have a word with Felassan. In private.”

“That sounds like a much better plan,” Solas said. He put his reading glasses back on and turned to his computer. “Is there anything else? I have some editing to do that requires my undivided attention.”

Abelas frowned. “For the response piece? I thought you had intended to finish that before your seminar.”

“I had, yes,” Solas said wryly. “But I have been unusually distracted.” He forced his expression to remain pleasantly neutral as he spoke. He was telling the truth, after all; he had been regrettably distracted all afternoon. There was absolutely no need to tell Abelas that the distraction was in the form of his alluring new Master’s student.

Abelas raised his eyebrows. “Distracted? That is unlike you.”

Solas gave him a small smile. “There is no need to rub it in.”

“That was not my intention,” Abelas said. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Solas shot him a wry look. “And add another task to your overfilled plate? I wouldn’t dare, for fear that you would actually agree to take it on.”

Abelas harrumphed, but before he could reply, there was another knock on Solas’s door.

Solas raised his eyebrows at Abelas — who else was still here at this hour? — then called out to the person at the door. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Athera poked her head in with a smile. “Hi Solas, I — oh, Abelas! I mean, Professor Abelas. I didn’t… um.” She broke off and shot them both a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just going to let you know I finished digitizing the contents of one shelf in the archive room. I’ll—”

Abelas cut in. “You finished the first shelf?”

“Not the whole bookshelf,” Athera said quickly. “Just the top shelf of the first bookshelf.”

Abelas blinked. “You — the entire top shelf?”

Athera’s smile was fading into a cautious look. “Yes. Is that okay?”

“It’s excellent, Athera,” Solas said firmly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll keep going tomorrow when I have time.”

Solas nodded and smiled, and Athera smiled back at him before shifting her gaze to Abelas. “Let me know if you want me to start that proposal for the NAS system,” she said.

“Not yet,” Abelas said brusquely. “I must review the program budget first.”

To Solas’s mild surprise, Athera wasn’t cowed by Abelas’s unfriendly tone; instead, she widened her grey eyes. “I know. I’m just saying to let me know when and I’ll get started.”

Abelas folded his arms and nodded. Then Athera tugged her ear and gave them both an awkward little smile. “Okay, uh, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Solas said politely.

She shot Abelas one last glance before leaving the office. Once she was gone, Abelas sighed and ran a hand over his braid.

Solas raised his eyebrows. “You were nearly polite. I’m impressed.”

Abelas shot him a resentful look, then rubbed his chin. “I… snapped at her earlier today,” he admitted.

Solas sighed. “Abelas…”

“Do not act as though you are surprised,” he complained. “You knew I didn’t want her here. I didn’t want a lab coordinator.”

“You said you understood the necessity of the position,” Solas said.

“I know what I said,” Abelas said in a hard voice. “I am allowed to understand the need but still be resentful.”

“As long as you don’t remain resentful for too long,” Solas said. He clicked his mouse to wake up the screen, then looked at his colleague over the top of his glasses. “You know I insisted on this position out of concern for you.”

“I am aware,” he muttered. “You remind me incessantly.”

Solas lifted his chin slightly, and Abelas sighed. “I understand the necessity, Solas.”

“All right.” Solas quickly corrected a typo, then shot him a sideways glance. “You don’t have genuine concerns about her competence, do you?”

Abelas hesitated for long enough that Solas actually paused his activities to look at him fully. “Do you truly have concerns?”

“No,” Abelas said. “She appears to be…” He sighed and ran his hand over his hair once more. “She is more organized and efficient than she appears to be.”

Solas raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like praise. I don’t know if I should believe my ears.”

Abelas shot him an annoyed look. “She is trying to change things after a single day here.”

Solas smiled faintly. “Some change was inevitable when bringing in a new member of the lab. And I know you have no great love for change–”

“Don’t make me sound so inflexible,” Abelas snapped. “I left Arlathan to come to this place, did I not?”

“Reluctantly, yes,” Solas said.

Abelas folded his arms, and Solas leaned his elbows on the desk. “It is temporary, Abelas,” he said soothingly. “Just remember that. Our contract lasts for three more years, and then we can return home. But we must—”

Abelas interrupted him. “We need to obtain exclusive rights to the Elvhen ruins in the Arbour Wilds first,” he said testily. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“I know you haven’t,” Solas said. “Just remember this when you are feeling irritated. The situation is temporary.”

Abelas nodded, then took a step back from his desk. “I will leave you to your work.”

Solas shot him a knowing look over the top of his glasses. “You should leave for the night.”

Abelas replied in Elvhen. “The rose should not disdain the holly leaf for its thorns.”

Solas laughed. “Don’t quote classic Arlathani poetry at me. My current circumstances are exceptional. You are a workaholic.”

Abelas harrumphed and left without a reply, closing the office door behind him. Solas chuckled as he settled back into his work, and for a time, he was actually able to concentrate on his edits.

When his phone chimed with a text, however, his mind instantly went to Nare.

He glanced eagerly at his phone, but a little thud of disappointment jolted his belly; it was just a text from Dorian inviting him for lunch next week.

He sighed and turned back to his computer, but his focus was once again spoiled by thoughts of Nare — guilty thoughts about the fact that he was hoping she would text him. She had no reason to text him, after all; they wouldn’t need to meet one-on-one for another week. In fact, she would likely not need to return to the lab until their next meeting, so it was possible that he might not have any contact with her at all for an entire week.

That thought shouldn’t disappoint him so much, especially since they had only just met. There was absolutely no reason that Solas should be this preoccupied by thoughts of Nare’s keen mind and her scintillating laugh. There was no good reason that he should be thinking this much about the way her smile shifted from shy to coquettish to heatedly brazen and bold.

There was no reason why three encounters with this one woman should be enough to bring him to his knees.

Or better yet, to imagine her on her knees in front of him.

A sudden flash of a fantasy invaded his mind: Nare on her knees before him wearing that lovely red dress from last night, her palms resting demurely on her knees while Solas tilted her chin up with one hand. Nare lifting her chin eagerly, bringing her smiling lips closer to the rising hardness of his shaft. Nare panting and struggling to remain upright while Solas knelt in front of her in a similarly compromising position…

His trousers felt tight around his groin. He scowled at his lap and shifted in his chair to try and relieve the pressure. Stop this, he scolded himself. It was wrong to feel this way. It was wrong to feel so drawn to Nare – to feel as though the connection they had made last night was something rare and precious, and to want to foster that connection.

Just like it had been wrong of him to confess to her during their meeting today that she was so thoroughly distracting. And it was certainly wrong for him to feel a distinct unfurling of satisfaction in his gut at the hopeful widening of her eyes when he’d made that forbidden confession.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, momentarily defeated by his own traitorous libido. He closed his eyes and briefly ran his palm over his own hardness through his trousers. Not enough to bring himself any kind of release, of course, but enough to soothe himself… and unfortunately, to worsen the fantasies that were running unchecked through his mind.

Solas sat idly in his office chair for a time, thinking terrible tempting thoughts and cursing himself silently for his lack of discipline while his work sat untouched on the screen before him. If wanting Nare was so completely wrong, why did the wanting have to feel so torturously good?

#solas #solavellan #felassan #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #professor solas #professor solas au #abelas #inadvisable #pikapeppa writes

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buckyreaderrecs · 5 years ago

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A Toast to Whiskey: Chapter 1 / 2

Summary: You work in an old bar hidden away from the modern world. It's almost charming, but not quite. That's probably why Bucky likes it.

Words: 2,325 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with part 2, brief mention of Nazis, mental health will be prominent part of part 2

Note: Find this fic and others on A03 - click here. And follow this Tumblr! I post lists of Bucky/Reader fic writers and reblog all my favs. I’ve just started it, so would love the support! xo Rhi

Dedicated to: @browngirlmagic for the conversation. The next chapter is the Lush one!

A Toast to Whiskey Chapter 1 / 2

There were a lot of things in the dusty, old bar that made the man's jaw clench in annoyance, distaste, or anger. You were compiling a list of these things, doing your best to minimise their occurrences. There was one you couldn't avoid though, and it was almost amusing that it bothered him at all. Each time someone ordered a drink - beer, cocktail, shot, whatever - a clean glass was given. The man didn't like it. Was it not like that in his time?

If James Buchanan Barnes thought he'd gone unnoticed in the hole-in-the-wall bar you worked at, he was mistaken. Not entirely, to be fair; the baseball cap and quiet stopped the other patrons from even giving him a second glance. 'Patrons' might have been too civilised of a word to call them. They were old, sickly, local men that had been drinking the same beer from those same taps forever. Harmless, mostly. Unobservant, entirely. Not you though. The first day Bucky walked in and taken a barstool on the very corner, closest to the door, you knew exactly who he was.

Like a lot of people that came and went from the establishment, Bucky's seeking of anonymity was granted. You pretended to not recognise him. You were kind to him, a little more gentle than you were to others, but mostly just a good bartender. And in time, you grew accustomed to the charade. He came in a couple of afternoons a week, but never during the nights when it would be busy. Eventually, he even started to speak more than a couple words to you.

"New cap?" you greeted Bucky with a grin, putting the only drink he ever ordered down in front of him.

Bucky wrapped his right hand around the glass of whiskey. He glanced at you, smiled and shrugged.

"Speaking of new, can I ask you something?" you asked.

The expression on Bucky's face was guarded, but definitely one of concern. You realised you should have just asked, rather than let his mind spiral.

"What’s your problem with clean glasses?"

He looked surprised. Surprised was an experience Bucky wasn't particularly used to or fond of. He wouldn't hold it against you though.

"How do ya know I got a problem?" he asked back, genuinely curious.

Shrugging, you looked around casually. "Guess I notice a lot of things about people,"

"Right," he said slowly, knowingly. "I don't know… Just seems wasteful… Is it the law?"

"That we have to use clean glasses?" you asked with a laugh. "I don't know… probably not. I mean, it's more hygienic. Probably makes the drink taste cleaner or whatever. Board of Health might have a problem with us if we didn't… Not that I've seen one of them in here in years."

Bucky picked up his glass and finished the whiskey. "Fill her up," he quipped. He'd made a half-joke, and you appreciated the effort.

"Yes, sir. Lemme know if you, you know, what anything else," you told him, topping him up, knocking your knuckles on the bar top, and walking away.

…

Bucky Barnes certainly wasn't the most chatty person you'd met. It was better to ask questions if you wanted to pass time with conversations. Easy conversation was one of your special skills, being a bartender and all. However, it was incredibly difficult to do this when you were purposefully avoiding topics that would put Bucky in a position to have to, you know, admit his identity and all that. So, things stayed superficial.

No, Bucky didn't watch the game.

Yes, the weather's been insane.

No, he doesn't want any nut mix.

Okay, maybe yes to pretzels.

Yes, he can see your hair has changed colour.

Yes, he likes it.

For as long as it had taken to get to the point of superficial conversation, it didn't take any time at all to run out of things to say. As it turned out, neither you nor Bucky had lived, or were living, shallow enough lives to sustain it. There were questions you were begging to ask, and if he was honest with himself, Bucky was kinda just counting down until you finally spoke up.

…

"So, I got a question,"

"Mmm. You have a lot of questions," Bucky said, smirking then taking another sip of his whisky.

"You could ask me somethin' if you want a change of pace, pal."

It was a joke. Just banter. But a dark expression flashes across Bucky's face for only a split second. You didn't catch it.

"What's your question, Y/N?"

He knew your name?

Of course he knew your name. He was The Winter fucking Soldier. He probably knew everything about everyone that worked and frequented the bar. How had you not thought of that before? Suddenly, it seemed risky to ask what you had planned to.

Bucky watched you hesitate. He sighed and looked around at the empty room. It was a Monday afternoon and it was just before the regulars showed up to knock beer bottles together and catcall you across the bar. It was just you and him.

"Ask," he said softly, taking his cap off and setting it down on the barstool next to him. You watched Bucky run his hands through his hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

"Why do you drink whiskey?"

Bucky laughed. Like, a proper heartfelt laugh. "What?" he said, nose still scrunched up in amusement.

"What?"

"Why do I drink whiskey?" he repeated.

"Yeah… I mean… It's disgusting… and, like, you… can't get drunk, right?"

There it was. You did it. Admitted you knew him. Which he figured out. So none of what was happening was really a big deal. But it sure as fuck felt like it.

"Right. I can’t- Well, I can, but it takes a lot,"

"Asgardian mead a lot?"

Bucky grinned and tipped his glass towards you. "How do you know about Asgardian mead?"

You snorted. "Everyone does. Everyone knows everything these days,"

"That's what we want you to think," he said, not skipping a beat.

It made you laugh. It was already better talking to him without false pretences. "So, whisky?"

"Ah… Guess it's that everything's different now… An' that's mostly good. But… You know."

No. No, you didn't know. How could you even begin to understand? "Yeah," you said, your voice far more quiet than you meant it to be.

"Whiskey's still whiskey,"

"It tastes the same?" you asked.

"Almost. Not exactly. Close enough,"

"Makes sense… But why here? S'not like this bar been here since the 40s or anything."

Bucky was visibly trying not to smile. Or make eye contact. "Ah… Not sure how to answer that without… offending ya,"

"Huh? ... Oh, I don't own the joint or anything,"

"You don't?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"No? You think I did? Why?"

"You're…" but he shrugged, still guarded. "I don't know," he lied. "But, ah, I was just lookin' for somewhere…"

"Pretty much stuck in the 40s or thereabouts?"

He nodded, smiling. "But without the Nazis,"

"Mmm… I mean… Have you watched the news lately?" you very quickly said.

"I try to avoid it," he admitted solemnly.

As people started to wander in, the conversation waned. Bucky watched you serve cold beer and pour bags of crisps into bowls. He listened to the worst songs being picked on the jukebox and he sat truly shocked you weren't even at least the daughter of the owner. Despite what you may have thought, he hadn't bothered to investigate you at all and finding his assumptions to be wrong was unsettling.

See, Bucky was a little bit smitten with you. He thought you were smart and sassy and timelessly beautiful. You were the ultimate perk of randomly picking this as his hideaway from the world. But, he figured you were only here because it was a family business. Why was someone smart, sassy and beautiful working strange hours at a shitty bar?

It was hard to say which of you was more curious about the other.

…

Something about what Bucky said had stuck in your head. Whiskey, his drink of choice, was the closest thing to his own time he could find. You could do better than that though.

About a year into working at the bar, you were finally allowed to venture into the cellar to clean it up. There were boxes of shit from forever ago down there and you just wanted it sorted, gone, and the space put to better use. Most of what lived beneath the floor was trash, but every hour or so you'd find something cool. A few vintage beer signs. Empty bottles of collector edition Coke. That kind of stuff. But, there was one thing you had found that you now wanted to stumble across again.

Nobody could remember where it had got to.

It took two days of searching to find it.

The bottle of whiskey was shoved under a bunch of paperwork in the office's bottom drawer desk. Not exactly where you'd store something worth a lot of money, but hey - the barely-there owners of the bar were eccentric, to put it nicely. You didn't recognise the brewing company on the peeling label, but that wasn't the point. The date on the bottle quite clearly read 1940.

When Bucky took his usual spot that afternoon, you bounced over to him with a grin on your face. He looked up at you, keeping his cap.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm so happy?" you said, elbows on the bar and head in your hands.

Bucky smiled a little. He seemed sad. Sadder than usual. Good timing.

"Why are you so happy?"

"'Cause I found something that's gonna make you real fuckin' happy. Check this out!"

You produced the bottle from where you had it stashed under the bar and handed it to Bucky.

Bucky's lips parted slightly and his eyes went all glossy. He read the label carefully, probably trying to place the brand you couldn't. He handled it so carefully, even more than you in your fear of dropping it.

"This is real," he finally said.

"Yeah. I found it in the basement ages ago and just remembered it. 1940, so I figure it's like, first or second batch after Prohibition, yeah?"

Bucky nods. "I guess…" he replied, smiling, remembering Prohibition. "And before all the distilleries had to stop again,"

"For what?" you asked.

"The war," he said so matter-of-factly that it hurt a little. He looked up then, saw your confusion. "Dunno if it was law or if they just did it, but most places stopped making drinking alcohol and started making stuff to help win the war. And ah, whiskey stopped being made because it took up too much crops. I don't know. Something like that."

Something like that. Like he hadn't lived history.

"I didn’t know that. That's…" Not 'cool.' "That makes sense… Anyway. Open it," you ordered, getting out two clean glasses.

Bucky put the bottle on the bar and looked at you seriously. "Y/N, that's gotta be worth… a lot… Can't open it for no reason,"

"Nobody here cares about it. And besides, it's not really no reason, is it?" He didn't move or say anything. "Bucky." He flinched at his name, glanced around to make sure nobody heard. They hadn't. "I think you kinda earned this one, yeah? Now do me the honours."

Why was everyone in Bucky's life so goddamn stubborn?

He sighed and opened the bottle silently. You nodded in encouragement, letting him pour.

"A toast," you posed, holding your glass up. Bucky mimicked your action. "A toast to…" Everything in your head sounded either very cliché or very sad.

"Whiskey," Bucky finished.

"Whiskey," you agreed.

Drinking at the same time, Bucky swallowed in two gulps while you struggled with a sip.

"Jesus fucking Christ it tastes like cat piss now and it did then," you whined, pouring the liquid left in your glass into Bucky's. He laughed at you.

After drinking that down quickly, Bucky reached across the bar and took your hand in his. "Thank you, Y/N. Really."

A toast to finding things that make us less homesick.

…

After the 1940 whiskey, Bucky came in more regularly. He stayed longer, despite the place filling with people. He even began to talk to the other regulars when they sat at the bar and argued with you about politics, the news, and kids these days. You watched him play devil's advocate, siding with the old men, sarcastically poking fun at you with a quick comment every now and then.

You weren't sure when it happened, but you realised Bucky had grown to be comfortable in the space. And there was something about that that made you ridiculously happy. Like, sunbeams bouncing around on the inside of you making you all hot and tingly and full of joy whenever he was there kind of happy. It was gross.

Bucky would walk in, sit, place his cap down and grin at you with his cute little teeth and sparkly blue eyes. It made your day without exception, and you started to notice more little things about him and how they made you feel. When he hooked his hand behind his ear it would make your stomach flip.

One time, when he was telling you a story about carnival rides and baby Steve throwing up, a loose strand of hair fell across his face and you immediately and unconsciously leant across the bar and folded it gently behind his ear for him. Bucky froze, and you went to apologise, but he spoke first. "Thanks," he said softly, with more meaning than the situation called for, then continued on with his story.

It was like that for just over a month. Then he stopped coming in. There was nothing in his final visit to indicate he wasn't coming back. Bucky just disappeared.

CLICK TO READ PART 2/2

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky barnes needs a hug #mine

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stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove · 5 years ago

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Surviving The Walking Dead - The Enemy (Chapter 14)

Author: @stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Dog, Michonne, Negan, Lydia, Maggie Rhee, Baby Hershel, Carol Peletier, Aaron and Reader.

Summary: Y/n returns to Alexandria with Michonne after learning about the attack on Lydia. The council is to make a decision about Negan’s fate. Y/n and Lydia learn the truth about Negan’s past actions from Maggie.

Note: This was a difficult chapter to write. I knew we needed the others to explain what Negan did and why he received a life sentence as a prisoner. But actually doing so was not easy. I hope I did an okay job, at least. Lucky for me those reading this have most likely seen the show and know exactly what happened making it easier to understand. Also, seeing yourself as a possible enemy to the group, yet not wanting to be is such an interesting take. I hope you don’t hate it.

As always, some conversations are the same as or very similar to those that took place in AMC’s The Walking Dead. I DO NOT take credit for those.

Warning: Cursing, mention of very violent acts and killing, threatening dialogue, painful triggers and some slow burn.

Chapter Fourteen - Chapter Fifteen

After the council met to discuss what to do with Negan since Margo’s death, Daryl went to visit him in his cell, feeling rather torn. The door squeaked shut as the brooding man made his way inside the jail and over to the metal bars that enclosed his long time enemy. Negan laid on his lumpy bed within it, his eyes closed and arms folded across his chest. He was feeling just as tormented by the recent horrific events and wondered about his future, until sighing loudly at his visitor’s presence.

“How’s the kid?” Negan asked, remaining still.

“She’s banged up, but she’ll be alright.” Daryl replied, much calmer than the last time they’d spoke. He reached an arm out and grabbed hold of the bars to Negan’s cell to steady himself. “You know the people out there are talking about putting you down? Saying Rick ain’t around to save you no more.” He spoke, fiercely. Negan sat up on his bed, slowly listening.

“If you came here looking for a confession, keep walking.” Negan enforced, clenching his jaw. “It was an accident and for the record, screw her. She was a goddamn asshole beating on a kid. The world’s better off.” He said, shaking his head while Daryl remained silent.

Negan squinted his eyes curiously. “But you already know that, don’t you?” He then continued. Daryl glared hard while Negan snickered. “You came down here to look me in the eye because you don’t know what to do with me. Shit, all that time you spent fantasizing about my death, all that time you spent actually trying to kill me and now look at you, you’re not so sure.” Negan continued.

“You listen to me.” Daryl stepped closer and put his face to the bars. “You and I ain’t never been in a room before. Not toe to toe and there ain’t nobody to save you right now.” He threatened.

“So, what do you want me to do Daryl? Stay away from them? Stay away from your girls?” Negan grinned, a certain sadness to it that sat on the edges of his lips.

“That’s a start.” Daryl grimaced.

“You and I both know those people out there are out for blood.” Negan pointed to the outside window. “It doesn’t matter now.” He said, defeated.

“Why help Lydia? You ain’t no hero.” Daryl questioned, stepping back to pace the room, not feeling any better.

“No, I’m not. I’m a sucker.” Negan noted. Daryl stopped walking and tilted his head in wonder. “See, I started believing in your way of life. Your moral code. Hell, you even gave me a little taste of freedom just so you could yank it away when I actually did the right thing.” He continued. Daryl stared long and hard and Negan looked to the ground, uncomfortably rubbing his hands together.

“Well, your gonna get your chance to tell your side.” Daryl finally said, revealing his true intentions for now.

“Now who’s the sucker.” Negan grumbled as Daryl left.

_______________

Later that morning, you and Michonne had returned to Alexandria together since helping at Hilltop. She went home while you entered Carol’s house forcefully and stopped at the staircase.

“Carol?” You hollered up them. Then you walked to the living room entry way and peered inside. “Lydia?” You hollered some more, a tad frantic. Finally, you heard foot steps marching down the stairs so you ran to return to them. It was Daryl. He stopped midway down at the sight of you. “Where’s Lydia?” You finally and awkwardly asked him, crossing your arms. She then appeared at the top of the staircase, the left side of her face was a little black and blue and she held her stomach as she walked. You looked back to Daryl and finally sighed in relief.

“I’m okay.” She told you, making her way downstairs. You gently pulled her in for a hug. “You didn’t have to come back.”

“What are you talking about?” You questioned her logic. “What happened?” Carol appeared from her bedroom door rubbing her eyes, having been woken up by the sudden commotion.

“Those asshole kids happened.” Carol informed you.

“But Negan saved me.” Lydia stated.

“What?” You uncomfortably licked your lips.

“Negan saved my life.” Lydia repeated. You lowered your arms away from your chest and waited further for an explanation.

_________________

Later that afternoon, when Lydia had finished explaining what happened the night Margo was killed, Daryl sat on the porch outside with Dog. You watched him through the window as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth to light. You were sure he felt just as awful as you did.

You sent Lydia back upstairs to rest and stay out of sight for awhile, knowing everyone in Alexandria would be talking and it would be hard for her. You thanked Carol for letting her stay and slowly reached for the front door knowing that Daryl was still sitting just outside of it. He immediately looked up to see you. It stung a little, sending a sudden shock through your body. He hadn’t really looked at you in days. You looked to your feet as you tried to repress the pain.

“I’m glad she’s okay. I’m glad both of you are.” You calmly said, brushing your y/h/c hair behind your ear. He took another puff of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke with a nod.

“Yeah, me too.” He finally spoke to you, his voice shaky. You began to make your way down the steps and prepared to leave. But then you stopped and turned back to him in wonder.

“Do you believe her?” You asked, hoping he’d at least talk to you about Lydia, whom you both had grown to love and care for indefinitely. He took another puff of his cigarette, then rubbed it out in the plant beside him.

“Mhm.” He unhappily admitted. You stepped back onto Carol’s steps and sat down, leaning against the railing and rested your arms on your knees. You stared at him, while he refused to make eye contact with you once again. “Look Daryl, I didn’t know he was alive. I haven’t seen him in years, for all I knew every last one of the Saviors was taken out.” You sighed. “And it wasn’t a real marriage.”

“It don’t matter.” He revealed. Looking at you with immense pain and anger in his eyes, his breathing increased as he spoke. You wondered what that really meant or if he even cared anymore. “You don’t know what he’s done; what he’s capable of.” He snapped.

“How do you figure?” You threw back. “I lived with him for a long time, spent a lot of time with him. I watched him torture people first hand. I know who he is.” You replied. The idea of you living with Negan, as mentioned, only angered him more. The idea of you standing by his side after everything he had done forced or not, was something that Daryl couldn’t think about.

“No, Y/n!” He hollered, standing up from his seat. “You don’t know what he did to us!” Dog whined and laid down beside you.

“So tell me.” You cried, petting your worried furry friend. But Daryl only shook his head and stormed off. “That’s it then?” You yelled after him, referring to your relationship with him as well as the conversation you’d been having.

He slowed his pace and slightly turned back.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked.

“I just want you to talk to me.” You told him. “Say something.”

“I can’t.” He simply replied. And that’s truly how he felt. He wasn’t good at talking. Or feeling; or really expressing himself at all. He looked at you sincerly, the fear circling around his deep blue eyes.

And then he left. And you watched him walk away, both of you unsure of just about everything.

_____________

Somehow, you found yourself heading straight for Negan after talking with Daryl. Lydia had told you he was back to being locked up and she was worried about what might happen to him in the days to come. You came to an abrupt halt, thinking strongly about turning around and wondering if it was all just an act. You told yourself that one good deed couldn’t eliminate all the bad he’s ever done. But ultimately you couldn’t help yourself and continued on to face him next. Once again the door let off a loud squeak as it came closed and Negan took a deep and exaggerated breath at the sound of it.

“Can’t a guy catch a break?” He whined without looking, back to laying in his bed. You grabbed the key to his cell off the desk in the far right corner of the room, placed it in the lock and let yourself inside. As metal door closed behind you, he finally looked up, a bit startled.

“Oh.” He sat up. “Hello, Princess.”

“Stop with that.” You scolded. He rubbed his hands together awkwardly and looked to the ground, defeated. You crinkled your brow at his reaction and then went to sit next to him. “You’re really worried aren’t you?” You questioned. He looked to you with a fake smile and gestured his hands out, pressed his lips together to confirm your suspicion and then put them back together, clutching them tightly. “It’s not a good look on you.” You teased. He chuckled quietly. “Lydia told me everything.” You began. He sighed.

“Listen, I-” He began before you put a hand up to silence him.

“Put this in the do not discuss pile for now, but she’s saying you helped and I believe her.” You interrupted. He looked to you, searching your eyes. He seemed calm and somewhat relieved. He felt grateful to you.

“Well, you might be the only one.” He said, graciously. “Why though?” He wondered. The truth was, what you told Daryl was true. You had seen first hand what he was capable of and the pain he often inflicted. But you’d also seen a side of him he tried to keep dormant. The side that loved and felt things for children like Lydia. You kept staring at him, directly into his hazel eyes while they searched your calm expression, feeling things about you he hadn’t felt in a long time. Things he’d tried to push down and keep out for as long as he’d known you. Things that you pretended not to know he struggled with. “Does Daryl know you believe me? I’m sure that’ll really piss him off.” He asked, seriously. You looked to the ground.

“I’m not so sure it matters anymore.” You mumbled.

“I don’t get you two anyway, he’s a lone wolf. And I’m pretty sure he likes it that way.” Negan noted.

“Maybe you’re right.” You replied. There was a pause. “Negan, why are you here in the first place? What did you do to these people?” You finally asked.

“How did you escape the Sanctuary?” He countered. You deadpanned him.

“Why have you been a prisoner here this whole time?” You asked again, determined.

“Maybe we should add that to the do not discuss pile.” He scratched the back of his head.

“You know I’ll find out one way or another, especially if you want me to help you.” You taunted. He grinned.

“I don’t.” He admitted. You squinted, questionably. “And seeing as this may be the end for me, I wanna tell you something.” He swallowed harshly. You scowled at the thought. “I’m sorry.” He said.

“What?” You quickly responded, looking back to him in surprise. “I’m sorry for everything that happened to you since knowing me. The truth is, you were someone I never wanted to hurt and I know I did. We both know I’m not a good person.” He admitted with a shrug. You swallowed nervously, then looked to your feet as you questioned what to say next.

“I’ll do what I can to help you. For Lydia.” You assured him. He shook his head.

“You helping me can only end badly for you.” He stated. You replied with a careless shrug, knowing you were already on the dark side. He eventually grinned, sensing your frustration and reached up to put his hand on the left side of your cheek and moved your face closer to his. He slowly, hesitantly leaned in and gave you a soft and delicate kiss on the lips.

When you finally opened your eyes, he had scooted away. “Goodbye, Y/n.” He said, looking to the ground. It really seemed as though he’d given up. You quickly stood, unable to properly react to everything that just took place and left, locking him back inside all alone.

When you got outside you were quickly distracted from your thoughts by a large crowd forming by the front gate. More people walked by to investigate while you simply watched from afar. Daryl sat, whittling at a piece of wood and trying to clear his head when he too looked up and noticed someone entering Alexandria’s doors as the crowd grew larger.

It was Maggie, holding baby Hershel in a sling around her chest as she road a horse into Alexandria. Aaron helped her dismount and walked with her back to the council room. When they reached the doorway you spotted Michonne there waiting. Carol appeared and hugged her tight with a smile, then Michonne spotted Daryl and nodded at him to come join before closing the door behind them.

You felt left out.

But her visit was a surprise to everyone. Daryl could see you watching them disappear inside and sighed. He had a hunch as to why she was here and wanted you and Lydia to know as well. He approached you slowly, his footsteps startling you. You couldn’t bare what might happen if he found out Negan just kissed you. You felt guilty. Yet, angry with him at the same time for not even trying to fix things with you.

“Come on.” He mumbled to you, inviting you along with him to find out what was going on. You stared as he walked passed you and away from the council meeting. Then he turned back and noticed your apparent confusion. “I want Lydia to come too.” He responded, simply. So you followed him back to Carol’s place to get her before meeting up with the others.

_____________

You, Daryl and Lydia all entered the council room together to see Maggie sitting on the floor with Hershel while the others had gathered around them. You walked in mid-conversation and heard her say one thing before she noticed the three of you join.

“I’m here to cast my vote on Negan.” Maggie said. Her eyes met yours then Daryl’s, who took a deep breath. His eyes were glossy, his posture uncertain. Then Maggie looked to Lydia and stared at her, disapproval spread across her face before she looked back to the whole room. “I left to get away from it all, but things are happening again. I deserve some say.” She said. “I’m sure most of you know and understand what my vote is.”

“Maggie, we’re still trying to understand exactly what happened.” Michonne stated.

“Is that why she’s here?” Maggie asked, looking back to Lydia. The teen frowned. “He should’ve died a long time ago. I’ll enforce that belief, same as before. Why should anyone else get killed?”

“But, Negan saved my life.” Lydia stepped up. Maggie sighed loudly, her words hard to hear. Maggie looked up to Daryl.

“They don’t know everything, do they?” Maggie asked her old friend. Daryl shook his head, saddened.

“I wanted you to tell them.” He admitted. She looked back to her son, who cooed and smiled at his mother. She smiled right back, trying to earn the courage to explain her view on Negan and his future here.

“Well, for starters he held Daryl captive for months, left him in a dark and cold room. No bathroom, no showers, little food and no human interaction. They tortured him.” Daryl gritted his teeth as Maggie looked to only you now. “He tortured him. Trying to get him to come to his side, among others.” She added. Lydia looked to Daryl, sadness filled her whole body. “And that was after. After we were ambushed and forced to obey Negan’s orders to give the Saviors half of our supplies. All of us, all our Communities. He was a cult leader. He took other men’s wives just because he could.” You swallowed harshly as Daryl stiffened his stance. “A cold blooded killer, who took anyone out for disobeying his rules. He’d kill just to send a message, and he did. He burned his own men’s faces with hot irons when they misbehaved.” Maggie went on. “Rosita stood up to him once and he killed two of our people, in front of Rick’s children.” You weren’t surprised by any of what she was saying, yet it still had such an effect on you. It hurt to hear. “Eventually, he caught several of us planning to retaliate against him.” She went on, speaking much slower now. Daryl sat down and lowered his head to hide his face for this part of the story. Maggie looked back to her son, tears filled her eyes and her face grew red and angry. Her lip quivered as she closed her eyes and tried to gather herself enough to go on. She looked up to Lydia, a tear escaped down her cheek. “It was random.” She said. “A random act of revenge for going behind his back.” She said looking to you for a minute, then went back to firmly staring at Lydia, scolding her with her eyes. “He took his baseball bat and he killed two of our people with it. I wore their splattered blood on my face.” She quivered some more and looked to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “Abraham. A good man. Gone, just like that.” She said before locking eyes with you once again. “And Glenn.” She said his name and the air in the room instantly felt thicker and harder to breath in. The people listening along side of you, paced uncomfortably now. Some of them crying. “The best man I’ve ever known. My husband. Hershel’s father.” She stated. Another shock went through you as the realization hit and you felt her devastation. “Brutally killed, right in front of me by Negan’s hand. My entire world, my entire future destroyed.” She finished.

Silence filled the room. An uncomfortable, overbearing silence.

___________

After Michonne declared more time for the people to think about their votes, the crowded room emptied but the thickness in the air remained. The overpowering emotion was still there and your chest continued to ache. You felt more guilty now than ever and feared that if Maggie ever learned the truth about you and Negan, she wouldn’t forgive you. You’d be considered the enemy for sure.

You were one of the last to leave, looking back at Daryl who still sat in the chair. Then you proceeded through the door but left it cracked behind you and waited for him to exit too. You could feel his pain and wanted to know more. You could hear the sniffles, the hesitant sound of his boots as he stepped closer to Maggie. “Daryl.” She said questionably. He stood and finally looked at her.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his entire body shaking. “I never told you that. I’m sorry.” He repeated to her.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Maggie calmly told him, a bit taken back.

"It was.” Daryl said, his voice cracking. In all the years that Maggie knew him, she’d never seen him so vulnerable. It made her sad.

“No it wasn’t.” She confirmed. Daryl looked to her, distressed. “You're one of the good things in this world. That’s what Glenn thought and he would know. Because he was one of the good guys too.” She cried and embraced him, hugging him tight. An action that comforted them both greatly.

After just a few more minutes, Daryl wiped his eyes and he made his way to the door. He looked back at Maggie with his hand on the knob for another agonizing moment, then he finally continued on his way. He was surprised when he saw you standing on the other side, listening to everything. He looked to you sincerly now, not upset or angry like he had been for too long. He studied your face. You wanted to hug him so badly. You even slightly moved forward like you might do it but he walked away before you could. You watched him leave, again and it was then you were sure the two of you would never be back to where you were. You realized you may have really lost him.

_____________________

That night you sat in the hayloft with your favorite fuzzy plaid blanket spread over top of your shoulders. Your feet were like ice cubes and you could see when your warm breath would meet the cold air. The stars twinkled in the dark sky just outside the small, wide open window of the barn. You couldn’t ever seem to get over how bright they were here and away from the well lit city you used to know. Suddenly, you heard someone from below. You looked over the edge to see Daryl heading for the ladder. When he reached the top and you could fully see his face, you simply stared. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes puffy. You knew he was still upset. He took a deep breath.

“It’s cold tonight. Are you sure you wanna sleep here?” He asked. You blinked in disbelief of his concern, pulling your blanket up higher.

“This is my spot.” You frowned. He finished climbing the ladder and sat down beside you, his knees against his chest. He took another long and drawn out breath as he prepared what he wanted to say.

“The night Negan caught us...” He began, clearing his throat. “After he killed Abraham, I stepped up and tried to stop him. I tried to fight back.” He said. You hummed and turned to get closer, wanting to hear more. “That’s when he killed Glenn. And maybe if I hadn’t, maybe if I’d just stayed still....” He trailed off. Once again you could feel his pain, but you understood it more this time.

“You can’t put that on yourself.” You replied. “And I heard Maggie today, she doesn’t blame you.” He huffed.

“I just wanted you to know.” He noted.

“Yeah, I’m glad you told me.” You half smiled. “I’m sorry.” You leaned in closer and placed your hand on his that rested on the floor. He quickly moved it away. “But?” You asked, the fear now growing within you.

“I can’t, Y/n....” He said again.

“You can’t what?” You stuttered. He simply looked to his feet and grunted quietly. Then you nodded, putting it together. “Fine.” You said. He looked to you now, the finalization of it all hurt him a lot more than he would admit. He searched your expression. It was filled with anger, betrayal, grief and heartache. You scooted away.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, I wanted you to talk to me and you did. Okay? You can’t get passed it and I can’t change what happened.” You teared up, your throat burning as you tried to hold them back.

“Please.” He asked you to stop.

“Tell me I’m wrong then.” You suggested. He said nothing. You got up, climbed over him and down the ladder to leave the barn. You walked back to Carol’s house where he eventually followed, happy you weren’t going to suffer just because you were mad at him. But you immediately went to Lydia’s room and closed the door behind you so he couldn’t follow.

__________________

The next morning you went back to see Negan after staying up all night long, unable to get any sleep. You made a decision and you had a plan. The handsome prisoner once again sat up on his bed and looked to you in wonder.

“Let me make one thing clear.” You scolded. “You are an absolute piece of garbage, scum on this planet and you probably deserve to die.” You told him, breathing heavily. He stood up, a little stunned yet understanding and nodded in agreement.

“Okay.” He replied. You walked back over to the desk and reached inside the drawer where you had returned the key to his cell the day before. You grabbed it and held it firmly in the air where he could see it. “You will never be able to fix it. But you are going to help these people now. Got it?”

“And what am I getting out of this?” He asked with a smirk.

“You get to live, you arrogant asshole!” You raised your voice.

“Fair enough.” He stated. “What do you want me to do, Princess?” He asked, stepping up closer to the bars.

“I have a plan.” You said, placing the key in the lock and opening his cell door wide. He eyed you with a devious grin as you stepped aside to let him out.

________________

@jodiereedus22 @dashesoflipstick @theunofficialduke @dixonluvv @nikki082489 @jordangdelacruz @lunatheumbreon @dbtvluvI

I gave a lot of thought about how I wanted you to learn about what Negan did to Abraham and Glenn. I felt it best you heard it from Maggie.

Glenn was always a favorite of mine. Yes, there were many deaths on the show that stuck with me more than other minor ones. BETH’S, Hershel’s, Dale’s, Merle’s, Sophia’s...but still none like Glenn’s.

So, boo on that decision.

Here’s to Glenn Rhee! Thanks for reading!

<<Chapter 13, >>Chapter 15

#The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #Norman Reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #negan #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfiction #negan x reader

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the-only-straight-fander · 5 years ago

Text

Sweetest Desire

Pairing: Remy Sanders x Emile Sanders

Mentioned: Roman Sanders x Virgil Sanders and Patton Sanders x Logan Sanders

Warnings: Gun violence, blood, arguing

Original author: @petrichor-passions

Remy had never planned on becoming involved with the mob. When he opened Verdant, he never really expected to draw that sort of crowd. But, as the years passed, it became normal. His business typically acted as a safe spot for members to have a drink and listen to some good music. As more time passed, he became more involved. He had done some not good things. But, he was on the good side and even considered a good friend of “The Devil” — Logan Decker.

He had hired Virgil, his cousin, a few months after opening. He had no idea what that decision would mean for him in the future.

—

“Dr. Picani, you really should stop by the bar sometime,” Virgil suggested as they finished his session. “I mean, even counselors go out for drinks, right?”

“First, Virgil, how many times have I told you to call me Emile? Second, I might take you up on that offer soon.”

Virgil gave a small smile as he departed from the office.

Emile had made this city his home soon after earning a doctorate in psychology. Ever since then, he’s had a small office right by the “bad side of town.” However, he hated that term. People were people. No matter where they came from. He saw people and couples from all walks of life. His only goal was to help people.

—

Remy had seen many things when it came to his bar. Shootouts? Sure. Passionate make out sessions? Of course. A man wearing a cardigan, drinking a water and treating this spot like your average social gathering place? That’s a new one.

He slid behind the bar and over to his cousin, who was talking to the mystery man.

“Oh, hey, Remy. This is my friend Dr. Emile Picani.” There was a notion of pride in his tone.

“Remy?! You’re Virgil’s boss cousin, right? Cousin boss?” He beamed a bright smile in the midst of all this noise. He extended his hand over the tabletop.

That smile stunned Remy’s closed off heart. How did he do that? He had known this Dr. Emile Picani for less than a minute. Why did he forget how to breathe for a split second?

He pulled himself from his thoughts and returned the gesture. “Remy, the cousin boss,” he ended with a smirk. “We don’t get a lot of doctors around here.”

“Well, I’m happy to be one of the first!”

Of course he was.

Virgil interrupted, “Emile, I can’t wait for you to see Patton perform. He’s amazing.”

—

Over the next couple of months, Emile became a more common customer. Virgil always made sure Remy knew of his arrival. Virgil, and nearly every regular of Verdant, saw the spark between the two.

It was always hard to watch this from the mob perspective. Everyone involved in the group had done it at one point or another. That’s why so many refused to admit to it. They had fallen for an “innocent.” One who had no connection to the mob.

These days, there were rumors even the Devil had fallen for one.

It most always ended in tragedy. Many settled for loneliness rather than heartbreak. They could have any member they wanted. But, it could never be that easy, could it?

Everyone had seen the change in Remy. He was softer around his new “friend.” No one dared to say anything though.

—

They hadn’t gone on any dates and they were far from “official.” But, Remy had taken to walking Emile home from work nearly every day. As it became more of a ritual, so did holding hands.

Remy was always rather quiet on these walks. He’d take in the sunset, the slight breeze, and finally, everything about Emile. His smile that seemed never faltering. How his hair moved in the breeze. The warmth of his hand. His voice. Oh his voice. The excitement that never left. He’d ramble about his day or Avatar or his favorite Disney movies and it would sound like music to Remy.

He couldn’t deny the color that rose in his cheeks anymore. His life wasn’t so beautifully mundane, except when he was with him. Maybe his feelings would have to be left unspoken forever but if it kept Emile safe, it was absolutely worth it.

Sometimes, when Remy felt comfortable enough, he’d let formalities slip away. An “Em” or, his favorite for the most endearing moments, “Pixie” would grace his lips. Emile always giggled when it happened.

At the end of one of their now regular walks, they reached Emile’s porch. Remy, despite the risks of both danger and rejection, couldn’t just look at his lips anymore.

Stupid. Idiotic. Dangerous.

Emile was talking about something, maybe a light going out in his office that he needed to get replaced. It was the only time Remy didn’t care. He couldn’t focus enough to care.

Emile has turned to unlock his door.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

When he didn’t get an answer, he turned back around. “Right, Rem?”

Remy was biting his lip.

“Are you ok, Remy?”

Remy’s eyes flickered to Emile’s lips. Without thinking, the words fell out of his mouth. “I love you.”

His counterpart gasped in response.

Shit.

He had messed up. It was too soon, he had taken things the wrong way. The risk meant nothing.

Then, Emile’s lips collided with his. Only for a few seconds but, Remy took in everything. The feeling, the warmth, the smell.

“I love you too, Remy,” he earned back in the form of a whisper.

~~~

They were a few days short of being together for a month (secretly, of course). Remy was planning to talk to Emile. Really. He wanted to give him an out. Emile didn’t have to risk everything and get involved with the mob just for Remy. But, it was so nice. To have something, more accurately, someone normal. So, he selfishly avoided the topic. Until it was too late.

This was the first time he’d ever seen Emile truly angry.

“Remy, what the hell?! Y’know the first time there was a shootout, a shootout,” he repeated for emphasis, “at your bar, I let it slide. I thought ‘it’s a bar on the bad side of town, it’s bound to happen once.’ but twice?!”

Remy interrupted him hesitantly, “Eleven,” he revealed with a sigh.

“WHAT?!”

“Em, I- What happened last night marks the eleventh time a shootout has happened at my bar.”

For the first time since they had met, Emile was speechless. He huffed out a laugh and an “unbelievable...” before turning to his desk.

“Pix-Em- Emile,” he stammered out as he reached for his boyfriend’s shoulder, the doctor flinched away. “Just, let me explain...”

Emile turned to face him again, there were tears brimming his eyes. Remy wanted to shoot himself for being the person who put them there.

He earned a gesture that signaled for him to continue.

“Listen, Emile, I wanted to tell you this for a long time, a really, really long time but, I was selfish and didn’t want to lose you. But, you deserve better-“

“Rem, quit stalling and just tell me.”

The coldness of Emile’s tone shocked Remy but, he knew he deserved it. “I-I’m in league with the mob.” At this point he had stopped looking at the other man. He moved his hand through his hair before continuing, “I have been since a few months after opening Verdant. I work with them and things... shootouts, happen. Bad things happen. That’s why I didn’t tell you, because if you knew, that would put you in danger. And- And I wanted you safe. Em, I’ve done bad things, for what I always pray are good reasons. But,” he bit his lip as he finished, “you deserve to decide if you want to be with me and I’m sorry for taking away your choice for so long.”

Their eyes met.

Remy could tell Emile was thinking of how to respond.

Emile looked away, looked down, then looked back at his boyfriend.

Here it comes.

“Remy, do you know why I do what I do?” the doctor asked in soft and patient tone.

Of course he did. They had talked about it on their third walk.

“To help people.”

“To help people,” he repeated before continuing, “Remy, nearly every patient I see has had their life impacted by the mob. And not in a good way! Innocent people pay the ultimate price for your actions every single day!”

Remy started to cower in shame, “Em, it’s not-“

The other man’s tone reverted to anger, “Are you seriously trying to defend yourself right now?! I know that life isn’t black and white, Rem, but, there is right and there is wrong! You or the mob can’t be the one who decides which is which!”

“We don’t!” Remy finally shouted back. “We don’t decide which is which. The mob is more than just a hoard of criminals. It’s a family! And, without the mob, this city would be hopeless!” He paused for a moment and made himself regain his composure, “We control crime, at least we try to. And, because of what we do, retaliation happens, hence the shootouts. Em,” They were both crying now, thin streams of tears ran down both their faces, “we try our hardest to save innocent lives. The mob wants peace and safety and love... just like everybody else.”

They both looked at their feet.

Emile wipes his tears away before speaking up, his voice was rough from the yelling and crying, “Rem, I love you, but, I need some time — Some time to figure things out and wrap my head around this.”

“Ok,” Remy returned softly before leaving the office.

~~~

Remy sighed as he looked down at himself. He was wearing a plain white

t-shirt and black jeans. The mundane ensemble was brought together by his leather jacket.

Emile always loved when he wore it. Hence the sigh.

It had been nearly three weeks since... everything. He wanted so badly to see his smile again, hear his laugh, hold his hand. But, he couldn’t decide when Emile was ready. Maybe this was the punishment for his selfishness.

He was stirred from his thoughts by Virgil knocking on his office door. His cousin was always sure to be at least ten minutes early to his shift.

“Hey, Virge, what do you need?”

“Um, I don’t know how to say this so I’m just gonna say it, Emile just texted me. He’s gonna be here any minute.”

Shit.

Remy scrambled out of his chair and down the stairs.

Virgil couldn’t help but snicker.

“Shut up!”

“How can I? It’s been three weeks and he’s still got you perfectly wrapped around his finger.”

As they reached the bottom of the staircase and headed towards the main room, Remy gave him a fierce look.

Virgil jokingly put his hands up in surrender, “Not that I’m judging. It’s just... cute.”

Remy rolled his eyes as he entered through the back of the bar. He spotted Emile almost instantly.

He was wearing Remy’s favorite tie and cardigan pairing as he walked through the front door.

Emile made his way through the crowd and landed at the bar after about two minutes.

“Hi, Virgil!”

There was that smile again. In that moment, Remy didn’t care that it wasn’t directed at him. It was just so nice to see it, him, again.

“Hi, Emile, I’m guessing you two need a minute?”

The latter mentioned gave Virgil a smile knowing smile.

Then, everything was a blur. Shots rang out through the building. People had started screaming. There was a yelling of orders.

Remy had jumped over the bar and grabbed Emile. “Stay here with Virgil!”

The two proceeded to sit down behind the bar.

Remy ran straight (ha) into the action. He pulled a gun out of his top jacket pocket. Firing strategically, the chaos finished in a few minutes.

He took a sigh of relief. He made eye contact with Logan, who gave him a nod. It was over.

At least, he thought it was.

He made it over to the bar with a little smirk on his face. He had hope that the night would end with him walking Emile home. That hope, however, was crushed when a heartbreaking scene greeted his eyes.

Virgil had just ended a call and Emile was slumped against the wall of the bar, blood seemingly pouring out of his abdomen.

How could he not have noticed?

He all but fell to Emile’s side. Virgil then left, Remy would find out later it was to be able to lead the ambulance crew to Emile.

He put his hand on his boyfriend’s wound. The panic and intensity of the situation set in.

A soft grunt of pain came from Emile’s lips.

“Hey, Pixie, you just look at me and you’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

Shallow, quick breaths were the response he was given. The look in Emile’s eyes shattered his cold heart into a million pieces.

He moved his free hand through the doctor’s hair. Tears fell freely. "I’m right here, Em. You just gotta stay right here, with me. Ok?”

“‘m s...,” Emile breathed out. If you weren’t right next to him, you wouldn’t tell he had even made a noise.

“Don’t-Don’t you dare apologize, baby. You just need to stay awake.”

Emile slowly moved his hand to cover Remy’s. "R’m...”

“I love you, too, Em. Just hold on, please, Pixie, please...”

Remy heard the ambulance team enter through the door.

—

The Devil wasn’t one for hospitals. The mob and the hospital didn’t exactly mix. But, Logan Decker wasn’t here for himself. He was here for one of his very few close friends.

Dr. Emile Picani was currently in surgery. No one knew if he was going to survive or not. But, Logan, his bodyguard, Virgil, and a dozen other mobsters, waited alongside Remy for the answer.

Remy was sitting alone in the corner of the waiting room, blood still covering his hands. Logan approached him and took the seat next to him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Remy, what do you desire?”

Both of them knew exactly what he was asking.

“I want them all dead.”

Logan nodded and gestured to a couple of his men. He stood, placed a hand on Remy’s shoulder sympathetically and took his leave.

He had a mission to finish.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders side fic #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #remy sleep #emile sanders #remy x emile #mob au

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captainchrisfics · 6 years ago

Text

The Book

About: A first person pov narrator released a book about S.H.I.E.L.D. and let’s just say she didn’t give it a stellar review after Natasha released all of the records. It struck a chord with Steve so he tries to confront the author, but ultimately she ends up comforting him instead.

Word Count: 2,901

“One of the best contemporary attempts at grappling with the unfortunate truth that even our heroes are human. This book is a triumph for unraveling and understanding the honest history of America.” -The New York Times

I leaned back in my office chair for support, absolutely astonished that my work had received such a positive review. My book about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s, for lack of a better word, shit-stained history was just recently released into the world. It was my first and I’d been working on it forever, although when Black Widow released all of their classified files it made my job a hell of a lot easier. Still, it felt like baring my soul to the whole world and allowing them to judge me, giving everyone with an opinion the opportunity to pick me apart. Much to my relief, most of the feedback was praise.

Publishing this book was more nerve-wracking and all-consuming than I could ever even start to explain- it’s taken years, but thankfully the countless late nights I spent typing away at my laptop paid off. After receiving my post as a history professor at NYU, I felt like I’ve been playing catch up constantly. It’s not that I’m under-qualified. Just that most of my colleagues were much older and more established than myself, which has been entirely daunting. But the success of my book has given me the leg up I needed to stop second-guessing if I belong at this desk.

I was pulled from my thoughts by an angry voice calling my name from down the hall and asking where my office was. I sat straighter, craning my neck to try to get a better look as I listened. “Where is she?” whoever it was repeated again, this time with more urgency and anger. Through the crack of my office door which hung ajar, I saw the silhouette of a man with a frame that made me feel dwarfed just looking at him.

The secretary surrendered once he slammed a hand on her desk, probably scaring the hell out of her. He took a step back from her and apologized profusely for his outburst in a guilt-ridden tone. Then, he stepped toward my door, slowly at first then all at once. I braced myself, trying to swallow every ounce of anxiety trying to burst from my stomach. He knocked on my door, pushing it open with an arm swollen with intimidating muscles, without waiting for my welcome.

He took a seat opposite me at the other side of my desk so quickly I didn’t have time to protest. I noticed he carried a copy of my book, one that was already so worn and filled with post-its popping out from all of its edges, even though it had to be a recent purchase. I thought, maybe he was a curious student at best? A crazed fan at worst? As I tried to rationalize what gave this man any right to storm into my office, all of my questions were answered when he took off his disguise (if you could even call it that, I don’t know how I didn’t recognize him sooner).

Without the raised hood and tinted sunglasses, it was apparent that the person sitting about two feet away from me was none other than Captain America himself. I cleared my throat, trying to sit straighter if it was even possible. Stunned, I closed my mouth and opened it again a few times before stuttering, “Steve Rogers, sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I reached across my desk as I extended my hand to him. I watched as it hovered in the air, shaking with my nerves while he stared for too long before finally meeting me in the middle for a handshake. “I wish it was under better circumstances ma’am,” he said in a tone that toed the line between measured and seething.

My eyebrows stitched together in confusion as I gulped down my nerves again. I certainly didn’t want to be on this super hero’s shit list. “I imagine it has something to do with my book,” I said, eyeing the copy in his hand.

“It is a gross assassination of an organization that has done more to protect you and millions of other Americans than you will ever know,” Steve asserted, cracking the spine as he opened the book too harshly. He read a number of my lines to me, followed by the well-worded critiques I assumed he’d scribbled on his notes.

“And this thing you wrote here about when my team and I rescued Bucky from Hydra- that isn’t even how it happened!” Steve went on, tossing a hand up in the air as if it gave his point any more power. He told me the story in a way I’d never heard it in any other account, but it wasn’t fair.

“Can I stop you there?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest with a little huff. Steve paused as he turned the page, the breath he’d sucked in to fuel his next rant sitting idle in his puffed chest. I pushed up my glasses, trying to appear more authoritative in the face of the super soldier. “I’ve dedicated the past few years of my life to following others’ research and doing my own extensively. I understand that you know the truth since you were there, but the rest of us weren’t so you can’t hold historians to your standard as a breathing primary source when we’ve been picking through false narratives and speculation since you crash landed in Antarctica.” I raised my eyebrows at him, inviting him to challenge me.

“With all due respect,” Steve said, though his tone would suggest otherwise. He was all but seething, the muscle tightening with the clench of his jaw gave him away despite his attempt to appear unbothered. “I’ve dedicated the past few years to ensuring you have that freedom and before that it was Peggy. We’re a part of that history and if you’re going to tell our stories then you should be telling the truth. I’m not saying you should know everything, but if you aren’t at least trying then why are you writing this book at all?”

I let Steve’s question hang in the air, familiar with the sharp look on his face. I’ve been teaching long enough to know when someone would always insist they were right. Especially in a field like history, where so much is left to interpretation, there’s so many disagreements and so many people who refuse to accept that they might be wrong. The sureness in his hard, blue eyes and tightness of his jaw told me he wouldn’t accept anything short of being right about this.

In an attempt to remain open to criticism. I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I waved a hand to signify he had the floor. “Go on,” I muttered. I had to give it to Steve, he made some great points. From his perspective, I could see how I hadn’t countered my bias as much as I could have and I was open to considering that I may not have every fact straight.

Some points however, like how he said I criticized Peggy Carter for failing to ensure there weren’t any double agents when that was often impossible especially in an organization as large as S.H.I.E.L.D., were unfounded. Steve went on and on as he vented more than anything, tearing each post it out after he said his piece and tossed them into my recycling bin. The pile was so high I worried they would start an avalanche. He reached a point where he was projecting his frustrations onto my work and misinterpreting what I meant, which was coincidentally when his voice started to raise and the veins on his forehead became more pronounced. Once Steve stopped to take a breath, I seized my opportunity to interject.

“Mr. Rogers, firstly allow me to thank you for your service. I should have earlier, but I was pretty caught off guard by all of this,” I laughed nervously, gesturing between the two of us. He nodded and muttered a quiet thank you, leaning back in the chair he barely fit in between the arms of. “Now,” I continued, not pegging Steve Rogers as the interrupting type. “You of all people should know the destruction S.H.I.E.L.D. caused, all of the damage they were capable of doing. I mean, for decades there were Nazis embedded in the structure of an organization meant to protect us and we were none the wiser,” I said, trying to refrain from using my lecture voice on a guy who could be my grandpa.

Steve cracked a smile, though I didn't get the joke. He was probably thinking about how I didn’t know the half of it- which was partly true. Nothing I could read could compare to his life experience. I had to stop my internal nerd from entirely reveling in the fact that such an important piece of living history was just an arm’s reach away from me. I had to stay on task, especially since I was defending myself and my work.

“I’m a historian first and an American citizen second, in my opinion. I want to pursue the truth, understand it and help others make sense of it, even if it paints my country in a poor light and especially when it is difficult to do so,” I said, gaining confidence with each moment he continued to listen to me. Steve nodded, seeming to find common ground with me on this sentiment at least. After all, he has the reputation of prioritizing his moral compass over the law and order even as a soldier.

“I apologize for any hurt or frustration my book has caused you and I assure you that some of your criticisms were just misunderstandings, maybe due to my presentation.” I bit my lip, always one to have trouble with actually admitting when I was wrong. Even so, Steve had a right to how my book made him feel and I felt an obligation to apologize for it.

I could see the hurt rise in his perfectly blue eyes again once I brought it up. Steve shrunk even more into the chair, looking like a dud firecracker that’d finally fizzled out. “It’s just that-” Steve’s voice caught in his throat, seemingly unsure of how to find its way out. He swallowed and started again. “I’m sorry if this is overstepping any bounds, ma’am. Your book just struck a chord with me. Since Peggy’s death,” his voice cracked, stopping him for a second as he composed himself. “I just miss her so much and…” Steve didn’t finish his thought. As the tears started to escape his eyes, he dropped his gaze to the floor.

It was strange watching a superhero break down. Sure, we always see their victories on every news station and even hear about their shortcomings on occasion. But watching Captain America cry, his shoulders shaking and his lungs gasping as he wept, somehow made me feel weak. Seeing the symbol of America’s strength, someone so intrinsically connected to this country, grieving the loss of Peggy Carter was almost appropriate. It didn’t stop my heart from trying to leap out of my chest or the yearning I had to wrap this stranger up in a hug until he could breathe again. Before I could process what I was feeling, let alone make an attempt to comfort him, Steve sat up straight again. He had a stoic expression and seemed to be begging me to ignore what had just happened with his puffy eyes. I couldn’t.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” I said softly, reaching across the desk to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. I tried not to notice how his muscle bulged, tightening uncomfortably at my touch. “I can understand how you could take my criticism of her creation as an attack on her character. Honestly, I love Peggy Carter so much,” I gushed, letting a little bit of that nerd loose.

“As a kid with a passion for U.S. history, you can imagine there aren’t many women to look up to. Fewer compare to her strength and courage. She’s such an inspiration to me and so many others, I never meant to speak badly of her.” I tried to maintain a steady tone as I held such intense eye contact with Steve, his eyes welling up with tears again.

Steve chuckled a little, though it was still so sad. “She was a badass huh?” he smiled as he remembered her fondly. Peggy had just died recently. It still must have been so raw for Steve, someone who knew her so well. I always thought their story was so interesting; the way they loved each other to each of their ends was the kind of fascinating story that made history so interesting to me.

That changed when Steve Rogers of all people stormed into my office. They weren’t just characters in my textbook. He was a real person whose strong jaw tightened when he was angry, who defended those he cared about, who cried until he couldn’t catch his breath. She was someone he loved so deeply, and so much more than that.

“Language,” I chastised jokingly. Steve grew tense and apologized, taken aback by my scolding. Watching him squirm only made me laugh harder. Once I reassured him I was only kidding, Steve seemed to think it was pretty funny.

“She definitely was,” I resigned as we grew serious again before launching into a story about how she fought fiercely on behalf of the first woman who was elected to Congress, defending her in the face of every press-concocted scandal. Steve’s eyes lit up as he laughed, saying that the Peggy he knew was no different. He told me about the time she punched some pig-headed soldier so hard he passed out after he’d called her Queen Victoria.

By the end of our meeting, which lasted nearly two hours even though it felt like minutes, we’d swapped so many stories it felt like I knew her. Steve caught his breath from laughing after I told him a particularly funny thing about a time she told off Howard Stark. He cleared his throat before saying, “Thank you for this.” I tried to brush it off and tell him not to worry about it, but Steve cut in. “Really, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like someone gets it.” He reached across my desk and held my hand as if I was anchoring him. It sent sparks up like watching that firecracker reignite with my touch.

I just smiled at him, not quite sure where to go from here. Steve stood and I followed suit. We just looked at each other for what seemed like too long of a moment. I smiled awkwardly, ready to excuse us from this uncomfortable situation with the justification that I had a class soon, which wasn’t a lie. Instead, Steve pulled me close to his chest from across my desk as he wrapped his arms around me. I was immediately enveloped in a comforting safety. Steve seemed to radiate protection, even more so when you’re pressed so tightly against his chest you could almost feel his heartbeat. “Thank you again,” he whispered in my ear, causing my skin to erupt with goosebumps.

I nodded, feeling so small and feeble in comparison. I felt like that wasn’t good enough though. I mean, I know there’s no instruction manual for handling a superhero who stormed into your office before bursting into tears. Still, it didn’t feel like this was the way we were supposed to end. Steve pulled away, smiling at me so sweetly with a tenderness in those beautiful baby blues I couldn’t ignore.

Before I could think twice, my lips moved almost in muscle memory despite being so out of my depth. “I have to go teach a class soon,” I said too quickly as the words tumbled out of my mouth. I had to ask before I could get in my own way. Steve sighed and nodded slightly, stepping to the side to make room for me to leave. I couldn’t say if it was true, but I thought he looked disappointed with his eyes to the ground and the corners of his mouth drooping ever so slightly. Throughout our conversation, I noticed Steve seemed to be too stoic to read half the time.

Instead of grabbing my briefcase and making my way to the education building a few blocks over, I kept talking. “Would you maybe want to get coffee later? We could keep doing… whatever this is,” I concluded, nervously rocking from my heels to my tiptoes subconsciously. Steve perked up immediately, lifting his head to look at me with this adorable twinkle in his eye. He hid it behind his sunglasses before pulling up his hoodie again, looking nothing like any random guy walking down the street now that I knew he was Captain America. The next thing I’d have to expose S.H.I.E.L.D. for would be their pathetic disguises. Steve’s smile was crooked as he said, “I’d really like that.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #captain america #captain america fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america one shot #captain america x reader #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #imagine chris evans #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x reader #imagine steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #cevans

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

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Doing Without

Another random fic I wrote in my down time this week! More NATM and Ahkmenrah along with Sacagawea (because I really just need like a buddy comedy of her, Ahk, Teddy, and Attila loose in New York. This fic isn’t that, admittedly, but it has a similar flavor re: Ahk and Sacagawea hanging out as buds.) Just a short thing this is, but I think it’s a bit of fun and hope y’all will like it too.

The title however, was ridiculously hard to think of, and I’m still displeased with it, but that’s neither here nor there.

Anyway!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

The first night Larry didn’t show, they tried to carry on as normal. It was uncomfortable, and weird turning on the lights, running the security measures Larry usually did, but it wasn’t as if it was anything impossible (except for the animals and a few other inhabitants lacking in thumbs with which to open and close various doors and locks.) Just strange, to be doing it for him, without him there.

The second night, it was too much.

“A few nights off, perhaps?” Ahkmenrah pondered aloud as he walked alongside Teddy, on their final sweep of the museum before they could join everyone else in relaxing and mingling.

“Usually he tells us ahead of time, hires that young man to come in and cover,” Teddy replied. “Oh, what is his name...you know the one, the one-”

“The one who falls asleep at the main desk within the first fifteen minutes, and keeps attributing our being alive and wandering to sleep paralysis hallucinations,” Ahkmenrah interrupted. “Yes, I remember him. You think he’d ask Larry why he keeps getting hired as a temporary night guard if he falls asleep during the shift.”

Teddy shrugged. “In any case, the lad is not here, and something is afoot. Either Lawrence told him to be here, and he’s forgotten, or Lawrence is sick, or...something worse.”

Ahkmenrah could see the plan formulating in Teddy’s head already. “No, he wouldn’t want us to do that. I know what you’re plotting, and-”

“A recovery party must be formed, a reconnaissance mission carried out!” Teddy crowed. “These are the times all men prepare for, Ahkmenrah my boy! Will you answer the call?”

Ahkmenrah frowned. “Larry gets nervous letting us out some nights to take a walk round the block without him. What makes you think he’d want us to take this trip to try and check on him, at his house, unaccompanied, now?”

Teddy thought for a moment, then grinned. “I don’t think he would want us to. But it is the right thing to do, and sometimes, the right thing is the thing that gets one in trouble. But if it benefits and helps another, then it is worth that trouble.”

“...fine,” Ahkmenrah sighed. “But when he yells about it-”

“I will take full blame for plotting it, while you and Sacagawea will take full blame for performing it,” Teddy interjected.

“Sorry?”

“You two both fit the extra clothes he’s given us, and will pass the easiest out on the street. I might not do so badly, but I must remain here to keep an eye on things while you and her are away, checking on our dear Lawrence,” Teddy replied. “And both of you do love getting out to see the city...”

He was caught there, and he knew Teddy knew it.

“Delightful! It is decided; I’ll retrieve the clothes for you both, if you’ll find Sacagawea and inform her of the mission!”

While Teddy trotted off, Ahkmenrah went on his task.

Sacagawea wasn’t far, standing at the main desk, watching the milling about exhibits.

“We have a...mission.”

“A mission? By who’s command?” she smiled. “I think I know though.”

“Teddy wants us to go to Larry’s apartment, and make sure he is okay. What we’re going to do when he inevitably is fine and is mad at us for showing up there, I have no idea. I was hoping you might have some.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think anything we might say we’ll matter. He’ll be upset, but I’m sure as soon as Teddy talks to him it’ll smooth over.”

“Teddy is just sending us. He’s staying here.”

She sighed. “Ah. Well, we both know some of being a diplomat, yes? We’ll simply have to do our best, and...”

“Say sorry a lot,” Ahkmenrah interrupted.

“Yes, that too.”

Teddy arrived a moment later with the clothes; a pair of dark jeans, sneakers, and an NYU sweatshirt for Ahkmenrah, and a pair of leggings with a sweatshirt from the gift shop that was nearly a dress on Sacagawea, going to her knees.

“No extra shoes, my love. But Lawrence has told me moccasins are still a fashion, so I doubt you’ll need to worry about them catching any attention!” Teddy said. “Go on, dress in the lounge and then out you go! We’ve got a good few hours left, and I expect this mission to be a complete success!”

Despite his nerves over their reason for being out, it was nice to be outside. The city air was cool, but not so cool as to be uncomfortable to be out walking in. In the night they could easily blend in, and for a moment he could pretend it was all different. They were just two friends, living in the city, out for a night walk to another friend’s house, at least for a bit.

“You like it out here,” Sacagawea said as they walked.

“I do,” he replied. “But that isn’t right, is it? I should find the city too big, too frightening, too strange. But I don’t. Every time we get to go out, I hope it’ll be just a few hours longer each time, even though I know it can’t be.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think that’s wrong. The more we go out, the more I wonder how many of us could pass as normal people, living our lives without fear of the morning and the sun. I think a few of us certainly could. Sometimes I wish we could know what that would be like, even if only for a day. I think some of us were made to exist in more than one age of this world.”

His chest was tight, his breath short as he replied, and not due to the walk. “I agree with you, but I can’t think of it that way. The second I do, the thought of going back becomes miserable. I’d miss you all, but I can’t erase the thought of living out here.”

“Don’t let it worry you. For now, focus on our ‘mission’,” she smiled softly. “I can’t blame you for wanting that and feeling that way, and I don’t think anyone would. You’re different out here, you know? Still regal, but...different.”

“A good sort of different?”

She nodded as her hand found his, and he was grateful for the contact grounding him again, reminding him of why they were out and walking the streets. Ultimately, this was for the rest of the museum inhabitants and Larry, not just a fun jaunt for them.

The wind grew colder the closer they got to Larry’s, and they huddled together as they knocked, then rang the bell, then did both again, to no response.

Before he could suggest another idea, Sacagawea had picked up gravel from the sidewalk, and tossed it at the closest window.

“What are you doing?” he tried and failed to bite back a laugh. “Is that window even his?”

She shrugged. “If someone opens it, and it isn’t him, we can ask them if they know where he is.”

Ahkmenrah nodded. “Fair enough. What do you think Larry would say if he could see us now?”

“Would you like to know?”

They both jumped a foot at Larry’s voice.

He was stood there, a bag from the nearest pharmacy in his hand, giving them a parental and angry look. “Well? You asked, do you want to know what I have to say about this?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, and ushered them through the front door and to his apartment.

Once they were settled on the couch like so much naughty children caught misbehaving, he asked again.

“Are you two going to explain yourselves?”

“To be fair, the plan was Teddy’s idea,” Ahkmenrah said. “We did perform it for him, but he had the original idea.”

Sacagawea nodded. “This is a reconnaissance mission, sort of. To come check on you, since you haven’t come to work the last day or so.”

“We thought maybe you had a day off and your temp didn’t know, or you were sick or...I think Teddy may have thought you were dead, a little,” Ahkmenrah admitted with a wince.

“He did definitely think, at least a bit, that you might have died,” Sacagawea agreed. “But you didn’t!”

Larry stared, and shook his head. “No. I have the flu, and my temp guard wasn’t available to cover until tomorrow night, if I was still sick, which I am, so you’ll be seeing him then. I figured you all could handle yourselves for two nights alone. And you did, I suppose, though I did not ever think you would do this. I mean, this is dangerous! I know you both know the city somewhat but...”

Larry sighed. “But you meant well. And, had I had some way to let you know about this, you wouldn’t have had to come out at all. Stay here, give me...maybe half an hour. I’ve got an idea.”

Before they could think of another question to ask, he was out the door again, sniffling as he went.

“We’re running low on time,” Ahkmenrah whispered as they waited.

“He’s gone, why are you-”

“I don’t know, because this is awkward and I feel like a child put in a time out,” Ahkmenrah interrupted with a scoff. “There, no more whispering. What on earth could he be doing?”

The door opened with a bang as Larry entered, and tossed a bag to them. “Okay. You’ll have to find a way to hide it, and it is strictly to be used for our communication during times like these, so I’m not buying minutes for it all the time. But this way, I can reach you and let you all know if I won’t make it or if something’s happened with the temp and you would be alone for a night. No more need for any ‘missions’.”

Ahkmenrah pulled the half-charged, but otherwise ready to use cellphone from the bag. “You bought us a phone?”

“You are now the keeper of the tablet, and the cellphone,” Larry replied. “Hide it well. Sacagawea, I’m sure you have ideas?”

“We can figure out a way to hide it in your sarcophagus, no problem,” she said as she looked at it.

“Good. Now, show me how well you can use it, and call yourselves a cab home. I’ll pay for it, but I want to make sure you get back on time, and you might not if you walk,” Larry said, rubbing at his forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m just exhausted. And I feel like shit.”

Ahkmenrah bit back the ‘you look like it’ that was on the tip of his tongue. True though it was, he was still taking care of them, entertaining them in his home while they waited for the cab Sacagawea adeptly called after searching the number online.

“You two use the computer at the museum way too much,” Larry joked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was sending you home to your own apartments, not the museum.”

The statement lingered in Ahkmenrah’s mind as the cab arrived and carried them away, Larry waving good-bye from his front step.

Sacagawea gave him a knowing look as they arrived home. “You know...Larry probably will need the next day or two off to rest. Even if the temp makes it in...he’ll never know if you should leave and go out for a bit one night, and Teddy and I on another.”

He smiled. “That’s true. If we leave him a blanket and pillow near the desk, and a mug of warm tea...”

“He might just sleep the whole night, wouldn’t even wake up to notice we were all moving about like he usually does,” she said. “Is that a plan then?”

“A mission to complete,” he replied. “Date night for you and Teddy, and a night out for me.”

The idea of it all was an adrenaline rush as they went inside, and it left him wondering. If Larry had other days off or sick in the future, and texted them with enough time, who knew what they could plan to go out and do?

He wasn’t quite sure of that answer yet, but he couldn’t wait to find out.

#text post #LeeH writes #NATM fic

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years ago

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hit and run - chapter 8

summary: Riza Hawkeye is a thief who is trying to get by in Victorian Central. Hard times fell on her family, tuberculosis claiming her mother and then her father when she was barely a teenager. Now, femme fatale Riza steals to put food on the table for herself, her canine companion - an abandoned puppy who just won’t leave her alone - and two brothers with circumstances similar to her own. However, dipping her hands into the pockets of the rich and famous is always a dangerous game.

rated: m | words: 3039

title: “hit and run” by lolo

read on ao3 and ffnet

“Mind telling me why you were in The Vaults the night I sent Miss Riza in there to scope out the place for Kimblee?” his mother asked him, raising an eyebrow. Roy stood on the opposite side of her desk, unafraid and willing to stand up for someone the Madame had, once again, put through the ringer for what appeared to be an unnecessary reason. He could have done the job she set Miss Riza. He had put the work in already, there was no reason he couldn’t continue with it.

“For backup.”

“There was a reason I didn’t want you to go in there.”

“As part of your organisation, I’m no different from the others involved here. If the work is good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.”

Roy awaited her response, the Madame drawing the pause out for longer than was necessary. She watched him closely, waiting to see if he would crack, but Roy wouldn’t. He meant what he said. After standing by and watching everything over the years, Roy was tired of it all.

The Madame maintained eye contact as she took a long drag of her cigarette. “Is that your answer?”

Roy nodded. “Of course.”

His mother nodded, taking another drag. “Good answer,” she finally stated, blowing smoke out the side of her mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“I raised a son who would look out for others.”

Roy was still confused. “What?”

“You heard me, boy,” the Madame replied evenly. “I raised you to be good – much better than anything this life will ever offer you – and I’m glad you’ve still held onto that.”

“So…” His mind began to jump to conclusions, his anger beginning to fester in her chest. “This was all a test for Miss Riza?”

“Yes, and no.”

“What does that mean?” he asked angrily. Miss Riza didn’t like him in the slightest – and Roy didn’t blame her after what his “family” had put her through – but he wouldn’t stand by while his mother tested her and pushed her to her limits like this. Not when it had almost resulted in her death already.

“Her grandfather came to me years ago asking for me to keep an eye out on the streets for a girl called Riza. We go way back, so I agreed. I’d heard of her only once before, in The Vaults, but then she seemed to disappear into thin air. I’d never heard of her again until she robbed you the night of the ball. So, naturally, I fought to keep an eye on her.”

“If you were looking out for her, why push her in the direction of stealing from right underneath Kimblee’s nose? It was almost a suicide mission!”

“I knew she could handle it,” the Madame replied calmly.

“How?” Roy asked in exasperation. He couldn’t believe it, nor could he understand his mother’s reasonings. What was this all about?

“That’s for me to know, Roy. Miss Riza has a complicated past and I was sworn to secrecy by her grandfather for security reasons. Only until I speak with Miss Riza, can I determine whether or not to share anything I know. Ultimately, the decision is up to her,” his mother shrugged.

“And what makes you think she’ll want to talk to you after what you put her through?” Roy’s voice was hard.

“You care for her, don’t you?” she asked suddenly.

“I care for all the people I have to pick back up after you’re through with them,” he glared at her.

His mother shrugged. “Like I explained to Miss Riza, I don’t let just anyone into our family. I needed to know I could trust her, and that she was indeed the woman I was asked to look out for. The fact she still managed to complete the job – and in just a few days – impresses me. So, she’s safe.”

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t believe it. His mother wasn’t an unkind woman, but she was hard and unforgiving at times, especially when it came to protecting her family. He understood needing to trust those she let into their organisation. but it was always extreme. He didn’t understand her methods, and at this point, Roy doubted he ever would.

“I know you won’t understand why. I don’t blame you for hating me for it, but I won’t put my family at risk.

“As for the reason why I took you off this job, it’s simple – you are my son and I wanted to keep you safe. The night Miss Riza robbed you at the ball Vanessa was able to uncover more troubling information about Kimblee. He’s a dangerous man, Roy. More than you could ever know. So, naturally as your mother, I pulled you from it. You have many talents, but they lie in fighting. You’re an excellent fighter – one of my best. However, your talents in espionage and pickpocketing are lacking. Nothing to be ashamed of, however I simply didn’t want you to die. That’s why I put Miss Riza in there instead.” She shrugged. “There is no convoluted reason. I just wanted to protect my son. Is that so wrong of me?”

“No, but –”

“I know.” She straightened in her chair, taking a puff of her cigarette. “The work is good enough for you too, and I wholeheartedly agree, but this was a matter of efficiently using my staff to obtain what I needed.”

“I was substituted out,” he stated, finally beginning to understand.

The Madame nodded.

If only she wasn’t so damn secretive with everything. The woman had been dubbed “the Queen of the Underworld”, so it was understandable that she would play cloak and dagger with everything, but Roy was her son. Why not just tell him instead of making him doubt her? Doubt his trust in her?

The woman was a nightmare.

“To protect you. Miss Riza was more than capable for the job. I’ve heard whispers in The Vaults, I will say that much, that she’s quite the thief. Quite the fighter and femme-fatale too. She’s extremely valuable. We’d be wise to keep a hold of her.” Roy opened his mouth to argue, but his mother interrupted him. “I know, she probably won’t want to now. I wouldn’t blame her. She’d be smart if she stayed away. But… Something tell me she’ll be around for a while.”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

“Come in,” his mother called, stamping out her cigarette. Miss Rebecca entered the room looking concerned. “Ah, Miss Rebecca. Good evening.”

“Hello, Madame.”

“Is Miss Riza with you?” Rebecca’s gaze shifted off the both of them. His mother raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“That’s the thing, Madame… Riza is gone.”

Roy felt his stomach tighten and he couldn’t quite understand why.

“Gone?” his mother echoed.

Rebecca nodded. “I… I went to collect her from her room, but she was nowhere to be found. I don’t know where she’s gone,” she added, sounding quite helpless.

His mother’s eyes flicked to him. “Go and find her,” she barked. “Kimblee has men all over the city and its not safe for her to be out there right now. Especially not on her own.”

Roy nodded and turned urgently, ready to move. Rebecca didn’t need to be told twice.

“What happened?” he asked lowly as they walked towards the door of the bar.

“I don’t know,” Rebecca shrugged helplessly. “Her room is empty. There’s no sign of her leaving. No one saw her go.” She wrung her hands together worriedly. “I’m worried, Roy,” she admitted. “She’s still hurt and Kimblee will have a warrant out on her after that stunt we pulled.”

“Does he know it was her the night of the robbery?”

“He might. Some of the men saw our faces and we didn’t kill them all. It’s very likely they reported back to him. Not to mention the fact he saw her in the inn. He might think the two are connected.”

“Shit.”

“Agreed. Okay, where do we start?”

* * *

She shouldn’t be here. Riza knew she shouldn’t be here. And yet, she craned her neck to look up at the long doors in front of The Vaults. The man in front of it was too out of it on drugs to grant her access so Riza opened the door herself and slipped inside. Her stomach lurched as the smell hit her, made ten times worse by the heat and the humidity from inside.

She didn’t miss this place in the slightest.

The inn was filled with the usual foul people. Riza slipped up the bar and made eye contact with the barman, who paled as soon as they saw her face. Without another word he jerked his head towards the door through to the back room. Nodding her thanks with a sweet smile, followed by a scowl, Riza entered to find a shocked Mr. Marco staring at her.

“Miss Riza…” he whispered in wonder.

“Are you on Kimblee’s payroll?” she asked, voice hard.

“Wh – What?”

“You heard me,” she replied, loudly dragging a chair across the ground to sit across from him. She pulled down her hood to expose her face, leaving the scar from the knife wound on her neck on full show. Mr. Marco’s gaze flicked down to it, his gaze turning worried then panicked.

“N – No, I –”

“How did he know where I lived?”

“I – I don’t know –”

“Don’t lie to me,” she hissed, stabbing the table with her knife. It felt good to use that as an outlet for her anger. She couldn’t hurt this man. Not yet, anyway. Not without proof of a betrayal. Plus, if she started going around killing people on the Madame’s payroll, she would be in even deeper shit than she was now.

“I don’t know!” Mr. Marco cried desperately. “Honestly, I don’t! I meant what I said when I was no longer of use to him. I work for Madame Christmas now, no one else!” His eyes were wide with panic.

“If I find out you’re lying…” she warned. This bastard had possibly put the boys at risk and Riza would not stand for that.

“I’m not! I swear!” he cried.

“The warning still stands,” she barked, pushing the chair backwards violently when she stood. “For your sake, you better not be lying.” Tossing her hood back over her now short hair, Riza stormed out of the room.

In the inn, out the corner of her eye, she spotted two men who’d been with Kimblee the other night when she’d been working there. Shit. Walking past calmly and casually, she sauntered out the inn, noting movement from underneath her hood.

Once in the street, she took a sharp left and sprinted up the hill towards the bridge.

“There!” someone called behind her.

Riza made it onto the bridge and crossed the road, dodging the horse and carriages making their way across it. The horses reared and neighed loudly, stopping their progress while the drivers cursed colourfully at her. Riza ignored it all. She dipped back down on the other side of the bridge, running into an alleyway so she could shimmy up a drainpipe and onto the rooftops.

Peering over the edge, she saw the two goons run right past her hiding spot. They continued down the alley, looking extremely confused when they got to the end, only to find it empty.

Apparently Kimblee’s men were employed based on either strength or skill with a knife, and not for their brains.

As she watched them turn back and leave the way they came, still arguing over who “lost her”, Riza whirled in place as she heard something shift from behind her. A knife was in her hands before the person came into view –

Only, it wasn’t a person.

A small dog had emerged out from behind a pile of waste and cardboard. Its little legs were shaking, and it whined quietly towards her. Its small head dipped once, its little tongue slipping out. Riza straightened and the dog flinched. Slowly, she sheathed her blade and took a small step towards it. The dog flinched again, whining louder this time.

“Hey, buddy,” she spoke softly. “I won’t hurt you.” She held out her hand for it to approach and sniff, but the dog barked suddenly, as if in warning. Her smile fell when she saw it flinch again, finally noticing the marks on its fur.

The poor thing wasn’t in great shape. It needed food, water, and somewhere warm.

And some love.

She couldn’t leave it. Riza had been this dog once – alone, starving, and afraid. But on the other hand, she couldn’t afford to keep it. Not while looking after the boys too…

It let out another pitiful whine, its big eyes staring up at her despite its fear. Its shaking legs tore at her heart strings. The sight of its bloody and matted fur solidified her decision.

With a frustrated sigh, she lifted the dog up into her arms, knowing her decision had been made as soon as she’d laid eyes on the poor thing.

Of course, she would take it home with her.

Alphonse had always wanted a pet, after all. He loved cats, but Riza was allergic, so never pressed the issue. A dog, however, may just satisfy his need for a pet for the moment.

* * *

Riza slipped back through her bedroom window silently, only to find two people waiting in a defensive stance to greet her. Mustang and Rebecca looked at her, knives drawn, but relaxed upon seeing Riza’s face. At the sight of them, the little pup whined in Riza’s arms.

“Where have you been?” Mustang demanded.

“Out,” Riza replied, as if it was obvious.

“Where?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” she asked, feeling indignation rise in her chest. His tone… It was as if she needed to tell him when she wanted to come and go. So much for “you’re free to go”.

“Where were you?” he asked again, brow furrowing disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression I was “free to go” from here. I wasn’t aware I had to report in my every move to you.” She couldn’t help herself for snapping at Mustang. His whole demeanour was arrogant and overprotective – and that pissed Riza off. Gone was the man who’d cast her an “oh shit” look jokingly as Rebecca scolded him for overworking himself after being stabbed.

That was something else she wanted to get to the bottom of – how had he managed to get stabbed?

For another time, when she wasn’t pissed at him. However, he just made it so easy.

“You know what?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Forget it. Take her to the Madame in the morning.” He stormed from the room, the door slamming loudly behind him.

“Can you believe him?” Riza scoffed, the question aimed towards Rebecca.

“Riza, it’s not safe out there. Where were you? Really?”

She paused, waiting to ensure that a certain someone wasn’t waiting outside her door. “At The Vaults.”

“Why?” Rebecca demanded, her tone becoming strikingly similar to the one Mustang had used.

“Because I had business there. Why is everybody demanding to know where I’ve been? What’s happened?”

“Nothing has happened, Riza, but we did rob one of the most dangerous men in the city a few nights ago. There’s a very high chance he’s got people looking out for us for his revenge.”

Riza felt dread prickle her skin. She had seen two of Kimblee’s men tonight and they’d pursued her. She sighed, feeling her life taking another turn for the worst. Why was nothing ever simple for her?

“What did you see tonight?” Rebecca asked. Damn. She’d read her too well.

“There were two of Kimblee’s men in the inn. They tried to follow me.”

Rebecca sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as to try and stave off a headache. “Riza, please. We’re trying to help you – to keep you safe – but we need your cooperation.”

“Why do I suddenly need to be kept safe?” she asked indignantly. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know that,” Rebecca stressed. “But what happens if you get outnumbered on one of these impulsive trips to The Vaults? You get stabbed again? You manage to drag yourself back to us half dead, but this time you were too late to save because you didn’t let us help you.”

Riza was taken aback by the emotion in Rebecca’s voice, the tone of her words.

“Rebecca –”

“We care about you, Riza. We all do, Mustang included. But my god, you make it so damn hard to help you.” Rebecca sniffed and blinked rapidly. “I can’t drag your unconscious body home again, Riza, not knowing if you’ll make it through the night. I know you’re used to being by yourself and only looking out for you, but you have people who count on you, and who love you. Think of the boys, and how they will be left alone in this world without you, the next time you take a late-night trip into The Vaults – a place owned by a man who quite possibly wants to kill you.”

She turned and strode from the room, leaving a speechless Riza behind her.

The little pup whimpered in Riza’s arms. Looking down, she stared into the wide eyes that were watching her carefully. His little tongue peeked out, his body shuffling to try and shift closer to her face. His tongue reached up and licked her face – a show of comfort.

“Come on, buddy,” Riza murmured to her apparent new friend. She sniffed quietly and blinked away her tears, only just realising the full extent of her need to shoulder everything by herself. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It had just been her way of doing things for so long that she forgot that it would have consequences for everyone else. Suddenly feeling very small and foolish, Riza spent a quiet night with her thoughts, thinking about how she could make it up to those she cared about who’d had to put up with her shit.

Starting with an apology.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #hit and run

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