#casualties happen he was in the way of your toes

[purple-genius]

[ace-of-zaun]

It’s Because:

Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending

summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc

Silco is not in love.

Unequivocally, categorically not in love. 

He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter. 

He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive. 

Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.

He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway. 

There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable. 

Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his. 

Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder. 

He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-

But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees. 

In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad. 

There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture. 

He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead. 

Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?

He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart. 

But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck. 

He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel. 

Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love. 

[demonlovingsheep]

Which brother has the highest kill count in Obey Me? How and why they kill? This is what I think:

Lucifer. He is very strict, prideful, and very powerful. He caused the most casualties in the Celestial War no doubt. In the beginning of his demon years, lower demons would purposely get in his way to challenge him. The first one who tried did not live to tell the tale. The second one follows the fate of the first one. One by one, thousands by thousands would continue to increase Lucifer’s body count to the millions until lower demons finally got the message that he is not to be messed with. As for human casualties, I doubt there is a lot since he doesn’t like the taste of human flesh. If he was summoned by a cult or something, he is going to have fun manipulating those foolish souls. After all, he is a sadist.

Beelzebub. He is Lucifer’s body guard in the Celestial Realm, a Cherub that is one of the highest in terms of rank. Due to his strength, he can easily crush his opponents. When he became a demon, all his victims became his meal during his hunger rampage. His sin took full control of his body in the beginning and most of the time he wouldn’t know what’s happening until one of his brothers stops him or he has no other food source available. He probably does the same up in the human world when summoned by a cult if they don’t offer him a big enough meal as offering, then they become the meal themselves. When MC meets him in the original timeline, he still tries to eat us and we’re not allowed to sleep or be near him without another brother’s supervision. Even the brothers were afraid one of their toes was gonna be bitten off.

Leviathan. “Keep sending your soldiers. The ocean has plenty of space before it run out of gravesites for your people.” He controls the ocean, just sends out a tsunami or two and wipes every being away and let the corpse fall to the bottom to be eaten. Even if the victim has the ability to breathe underwater, he would summon Lotan to obliterate them. He never has to get handsy to increase his kill count. He does snack on a couple of humans that've been swept into the ocean by currents.

Satan: He unleashed hell when he was born, being the embodiment of wrath itself. He was separated from Lucifer and his other brothers when they fell. Since there is no one strong enough to hold him back, he wreaked havoc on anything and everything. He set the area around him into a green fire graveyard until he was eventually found and gets chained and shoved in a locker. He gets ticked off when summoned, and if it was for a stupid reason. If they mistaken him for Lucifer, which is pretty often, no one would live to tell the tale. It took decades for them to learn that he is not that damn arrogant bastard.

Asmodeus: Personally, I was conflicted between him and Mammon, but Asmodeus can snap more easily than Mammon. Even though he is the avatar of lust, he still has standards and boundaries. Most lower demons think he is easy to manipulate. Just compliment him, take him to a motel or bar, and get him when he’s vulnerable. The thing is that Asmo knows, and he has his own wicked plan in mind. Depending on his mood, he can either toy with the other demons for such a long time that the other demon will actually develop some feelings for him, all for it to crumble in the end. Like a heartbreak, but with their hearts literally removed and in Asmodeus’s hands. Asmo will still laugh and feign innocence like he hadn’t just gone sicko lover mode. Or he just snaps and completely loses it, charming the other person to bash their own skull against a wall until they are dead. He still refuses to get his clothes or nails stained.

Mammon: He wasn’t initially greedy, but he slowly grew to be the Avatar of Greed as he is. Mammon perhaps fakes his personality, just like how Satan would cover up his wrath with a smile. After all, how would one approach to make a business if he gives off a threatening aura. Maybe centuries as a shady business demon made him lose his sense of dignity along the way, but keep in mind he still knows his title as an Avatar. He flaunts it too, it’s just that it’s very hard to push him to the point of violence. So most demons don’t take him seriously. Money makes the world go round, but it’s the quickest way for someone to seek vengeance when someone doesn’t pay back what they own. Mammon generally plays by the rules even though he himself gambles in illegal places, but he still has business standards. If someone tries to cheat him out of his winnings, they will earn themselves a one way ticket to Mammon’s blacklist, which most of the time has four or five people in the waiting list so one shouldn’t count on time to delay Mammon’s wrath. He will make them pay. No amount of begging or bribery will work, by then the only way of paying back the “debt” is with one’s soul, which is worth even more than anyone can ever imagine. Hell, perhaps he deals with selling organs on the black market too after he finishes seeking vengeance. Organs are worth a good amount of money, either for hungry cannibalistic demons looking for a demon kidney as dinner or for mad scientist demons to run experiments on. Either way, business.

Belphegor: He is too lazy to kill, that’s all I can say. If you think it’s hard to get on Mammon’s blacklist, it’s even harder to get on Belphegor’s blacklist because he just doesn’t care…unless someone messes with his dear twin, Beelzebub. There will be no more peaceful rest for that person for the rest of their short life because Belphegor will make sure that they die in agony. He will curse the person so that whenever they are about to fall asleep, they will be jolted alive by some weird electric feeling. It’s like the feeling when you trip in your sleep (Hypnic Jerk), except it’s not an angel accidentally dropping your soul when bringing you to heaven, but a demon draining your sanity to live. It’s no brainer that sleep is very important as it keeps one’s mind and body functioning. For the victims of Belphegor however, they will never sleep again. They can try but are always jolted awake whenever they are on the edge to dreamland. Until many days has gone by where the person is basically a walking zombie at this point, they pray and try to fall asleep once again expecting for the same jolt feeling, except it didn’t happen. The victims can finally sleep, but this sleep feels more…permanent.

Author’s note: I started writing this draft like a year ago, and took it out today. I forgot what im exactly writing. It’s so shifty of what it’s meant to be. Think it was kill count and why, but it gradually moved onto killing methods of each. Don’t take it too seriously 👉👈. Hope y’all enjoy.

[bridgertonbabe]

So having read the bridgerton spouse group chats by you and bridgerton family group chats by @holybatgirlz I’ve realised Benedict seems to always been one of the ones getting injured during family games night…

Does Sophie ever ban him from playing after an Injury or flat out refuse to go after she’s had all four kids and Benedict ends up back in hospital and ends up out of action for a few weeks meaning Sophie has four kids and a husband to tend to (and forces the injuring causing party to wait on him hand and foot for the duration of his Convalescence)

Also on another point… reading these makes me wanna write a family games night fic 😂😂

I feel like by the time all the spouses are married in and as they all start their families that Bridgerton game nights would become a bit calmer - only fractionally, but enough that the hospital visits aren't as frequent and the injuries sustained are far less serious. Though the Bridgertons (and Kate) remain insanely competitive to a terrifying degree, the spouses manage to limit game nights to once a year at most and then following the annual game night the spouses make it very clear how little they care for the family's version of a casual night of board/parlour games, and at the very least some of the Bridgertons take their partners feelings on board and attempt to mellow their competitiveness (kinda).

But with that being said, just because the injuries at game nights wind down, doesn't mean casualties don't occur through other competitive dumbass means...

BSSG Group Chat

Sophie: Guys I'm at the hospital.

Penelope: omg are you ok?????

Lucy: oh no what's happened?

Sophie: Ben broke his leg.

Phillip: Shit how did he manage that?

Sophie: He broke it go-karting.

Gareth:

Simon: What the ever living fuck was he doing go-karting?

Lucy: and not to be ageist - but at his age????

Phillip: The fuck is he playing at?

Gareth: i have to know

Gareth: did he go by himself?

Michael: Gareth please don't make this any more tragic for Ben or any more embarrassing for Sophie

Sophie: For your information he wasn't by himself.

Lucy: then who the hell did he go with????

Penelope: wait

Sophie: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news

Phillip: Oh no

Simon: Please don't say it

Sophie: But it was a Bridgerton sibling day out

Michael: Oh for fuck's sake

Lucy: but greg told me he was going to spend the afternoon helping his mum pick up the flowers and decorations for penelope and eloise's baby shower on saturday!

Penelope:

Simon: As much as I can share in your dismay Lucy I can't say I'm remotely shocked to learn that Daphne and her siblings all lied about their whereabouts to hide the fact that they were having a sneaky go-karting afternoon 😑

Michael: I'm well aware I'm including my wife in this but do none of them have jobs??? Who goes go-karting on a Wednesday afternoon????

Phillip: Lets just be grateful that there was only one casualty from their go-karting escapade.

Sophie: ...

Sophie: Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news again

Simon: Sophie don't you dare

Penelope: oh god do we even want to know

Sophie: But they've all been hospitalised.

Lucy:

Michael: Why

Simon:

Michael: Why must they be like this

Gareth: just how exactly do 8 people get taken to hospital from a single go-karting afternoon?

Phillip: Soph is El ok????? I'm on my way right now

Sophie: She's ok Phil and so is the baby, she's just got a sprained wrist. She fared the best out of them all injury wise.

Penelope: El's fared the best???????

Michael:

Michael: Just what exactly is the extent of the damages we're talking here @ Sophie

Sophie: So Colin has a broken leg to match Ben's, Anthony's in a neck brace, Fran's fractured a couple of ribs, Daph's fractured her arm while Greg's broken his and has bruised his coccyx, and Hy's broken her big toe and is currently sporting an eye patch.

Penelope: COLIN'S BROKEN HIS LEG???????

Penelope: I'm 4 weeks away from giving birth wtf am I supposed to do with Limpy for a husband?!?!?!?

Lucy: ffs greg and i were supposed to be playing tennis with hermione and my brother this sunday 😤

Gareth: at least this isn't your wife:

Gareth: and soph how exactly did hy end up with an eye patch from go-karting?

Sophie: Greg shot her.

Lucy: HE DID WHAT

Simon: He shot her?????

Michael: Wow Greg shot Hy?

Michael: Honestly I would have imagined Fran snapping before Greg

Gareth: @ Sophie if you've previously failed to mention that my wife is wearing an eye patch because she's been blinded in that eye NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO MENTION IT

Sophie: Relax she hasn't been blinded, it's just precautionary until the swelling's gone down.

Lucy: CAN WE GET BACK TO THE PART WHERE MY HUSBAND SHOT HIS SISTER

Penelope: yeah wtf is Greg doing with a gun????

Simon: And why does he have one for go-karting?!?!??!

Sophie: Ok so it was a BB gun he was using

Lucy: AND HE HAD IT BECAUSE?!?!?!?!?

Sophie: Well you're all going to love this

Sophie: They weren't just doing regular go-karting

Phillip: What

Sophie: They were doing it Mario Kart style.

Michael:

Simon: I actually can't stand them.

Gareth: not to be pedantic but they don't have guns in mario kart

Gareth: did they get it mixed up with gta coz that would make way more sense with all of the injuries they've acculumated

Lucy: are you seriously telling me they were driving go-karts around a track while shooting at each other??????

Penelope: I'm a month away from giving birth to a Bridgerton baby 🙃

Sophie: Basically they were using an assortment of items like hurling banana peels and pouring out oil on the track to make the others slip, they were throwing frisbees and balls at each other which were meant to be like shells and they had a variety of water/nerf/BB guns to take each other out that way. All of which contributed to the massive pile up that caused most of their injuries.

Michael: God almighty

Gareth: question; was hy not wearing a helmet?

Sophie: She was but she had the visor open after Eloise sprayed it over with paint which was how she ended up getting shot.

Kate: Omfg

Kate: I cannot believe this!

Sophie: It's a lot to take in I know.

Kate: I can't believe they didn't invite me!

Michael: Kate do you even care that your husband is in a neck brace?

Kate: Well that's what he fucking gets for not including me! Karma's a bitch and so is Anthony!

Simon: @ Kate

Phillip: God can you imagine what Violet's reaction to this is going to be when she finds out?

Sophie: No need to imagine she already knows.

Penelope: omfg

Gareth: damn you already told on them???

Sophie: Violet was the first person I told as soon as I heard about it all. I'm sick to death of them all acting like this and being so stupidly reckless. Not one of them even stopped to think that it might not be a good idea and now I've got to see after 4 kids with an invalid for a husband, and the rest of their injuries will come as just as great an inconvenience to all of you as well!

Sophie: So yeah I immediately went to Violet to tell on them because I want her to wipe the absolute floor with them for being so thoughtless!!!!!

Penelope:

Gareth:

Michael: You did what had to be done Soph and for that I applaud you 👏👏👏

Sophie: But that's not all, I'm also punishing Ben for being so feckless.

Kate: Oooh kinky

Sophie: Far from it. For starters when I got here Ben wanted to cuddle Vi to cheer himself up but I told him no and that he's getting no snuggles with her from now until his cast comes off.

Gareth: holy shit you're gate-keeping his own daughter from him

Lucy:

Lucy: and i love it

Michael: How quickly did he start to cry?

Sophie: Instantaneously. It was incredibly rewarding.

Sophie: And I'd encourage you all to do the same with your respective Bridgerton in whatever way you see fit.

Penelope: once Colin's home I'll keep offering him food but then just sit and eat it right in front of him 😈😈😈

Gareth: i'm going to get a toy parrot and perch it on hy's shoulder and call her patchy 🦜

Simon: I'm not even going to bother picking Daph up from the hospital. She has to learn she can't keep pulling stunts like this as a mother of four.

Simon: That and I've already started drinking to deal with this nonsense so I couldn't even if I had to.

Phillip: I'm going to make El take and stay with the twins at back to back children's parties this weekend. She'll absolutely fucking hate it.

Kate: I'm just going to laugh in Anthony's face. Probably get the kids to join in too.

Lucy: damn i'm not sure what i'm going to do with greg

Michael: I'm going to withhold sex.

Penelope: damn that's a bold move

Simon: But is that going to be more of a punishment for her or you?

Michael: Not to give you all too much of an insight but that's going to kill Fran more than you'd think it would.

Michael: But that's what she gets for going along with her fam's unhinged competitive behaviour.

Michael: No more snu snu.

Penelope: I actually think if we all withheld sex from our respective partners that they might finally learn their lesson.

Lucy: that's... actually a very valid point that could very much work

Kate: Well we don't call them sex idiots for nothing.

Michael: They're essentially a bunch of horny Tinkerbells; they need sex to live.

Simon: I truly hate that sentiment. But you're not wrong.

Michael: So are you all following my lead? It's your own choice obvs, no pressure if anyone would prefer not to.

Gareth: i'm not exactly chomping at the bit to be having snu snu with patchy

Kate: Yeah neck braces don't make for a turn on either.

Penelope: And being this pregnant I'm not really in the mood for it as it is.

Sophie: Like I'm going to have the time or energy seeing after the kids while Ben's bedridden anyway.

Lucy: fine by me

Simon: I have 0 qualms with this method of punishment.

Phillip: Same here.

Michael: Then it's no snu snu all around! Vive le resistance!

[haikyuuhoo]

if you could change anything, please just stay the same (because i love everything about you)

pairing: gojo x reader (but their relationship isn't the focus of this at all, just a very small part of the foundation)

wc: 876

a/n: meant to take place immediately after the end of jjk 0. sorry for the sads, but i thrive in angst. also sorry for the fact that this is very rushed and probably not great lol i just wanted to write something and this is what happened.

listen

The wind whips around you as you step out onto the roof, and you have to fight to keep your balance as you walk toward the figure standing on the ledge.

He’s got his hands in his pockets, facing out over the rest of Jujutsu High’s campus and staring silently at the rubble that the day’s incidents have caused.

“Do you think it could have been different?” Satoru asks when you approach.

You’re surprised he heard your footsteps over the sound of the wind, but then you remember that it’s probably not that, that he probably sensed your presence—or whatever it is those eyes of his allow him to do.

“What do you mean?” You know he’s asking about today, about the fight and the wreckage and the casualties, but you’re not quite sure which part he’s asking about specifically. “I’m sure lots of things could have gone differently, but we didn’t know exactly what they were planning. We prepared well, I think, but—”

“Do you think Geto could have stayed?”

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting that question, and expecting even less that he would be asking about something that happened ten years ago. You stare at him, weighing your response before you finally speak. “You know he couldn’t have. You let him live, but he would have been killed if he stayed here.”

Satoru hesitates, his body unwavering despite the fact that the toes of his shoes are hanging over the ledge and the wind is picking up. Part of you worries he wouldn’t even try to stop himself if he fell.

His voice is incredibly soft when he speaks next, but you still hear it.

“Do you think, if I weren’t me, he would still be here?”

You physically recoil at the question, and you immediately want to say no, to shout it over the wind, but your throat is closing up and you can’t even attempt to speak before he continues.

“We were the strongest. And then I… I pushed him away, didn’t I? I was so focused on perfecting my technique and becoming the best that I didn’t even realize that we turned into me. And I didn’t even notice what was happening to him, how… not okay he was.” He swallows hard, and you imagine he’s squeezing his eyes shut tight behind his bandages in that way he does when he’s frustrated. “I was so selfish.”

Satoru turns to face you, and you nearly reach out to pull him away from the ledge. You know the fall wouldn’t kill him—not even close—but it still makes your stomach lurch with unease. “If I was literally anybody else, he would still be here. He would still be alive. I wouldn’t have had to—” His whole body shakes with the breath he sucks in. “Do you have any idea how often I wish I wasn’t like this?”

This time you can’t help yourself, you reach out and tug him toward you, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as if he'll fall away if you let him go. And he lets you, drops his infinity so you can touch him—so he can touch you—and Satoru nearly crumples in on himself, clinging to you as he begins to cry. “I’m trying so fucking hard—”

“I know,” you whisper. You’ve never seen him like this. It was bad when Riko died and worse when Geto defected, but Gojo Satoru has never seemed so small before, has never needed someone to hold him together.

Because he’s the strongest, after all.

He doesn’t need anyone.

Right?

“If I could go back, I would change so much. I would change me if I could, I swear. I don’t deserve to be here any more than him just because I was born with these stupid fucking techniques.”

“Don’t say that,” you say quietly, because you know if you speak more than a whisper he’ll hear that you’ve started crying too. “You’re so good, Satoru. You care so much about these kids and you never stopped caring about Geto. If you weren’t you—”

“If I weren’t me, everything would be better.”

You feel your heart shatter in your chest.

Because you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s not true.

But you stay quiet, the statement hanging in the air, just letting him hold you because you know that’s what he needs right now.

“If I could change anything—”

“Don’t change a thing,” you say firmly. You feel a sob wrack through him, and you bury your face against his shoulder. “Don’t change. We need you.”

I love you.

You know this will pass. That tomorrow will come and you’ll all rebuild, forever altered, but you’ll slowly get better. That he’ll go back to being Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and the typical annoying goofball that you fell in love with.

But for now, you’re content to let him need you, to let him hold you tightly and be vulnerable in a way he so rarely ever allows himself to be, to help him carry some of the weight of the world that was placed on his shoulders the day he was born.

reblogs & comments always appreciated <3

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy begins the long recovery from what Luca did to her, while the Shelbys prepare for Bonnie's boxing match.

Word Count: 5,254

Notes: Warnings for depictions of PTSD, injuries, chronic pain, and references to torture.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 26: Lost Forever

Audrey entered Luca’s room to find it in complete disarray. The papers that he kept spread across his desk were all over the floor, chairs and tables overturned in the sitting room, a lamp smashed on the thin rug, along with the shattered remains of crystal glasses and a decanter filled with amber liquid.  

Her eyes swept over the scene of destruction, lips pursing. 

When Matteo came to her lodgings, eyes wide and begging her to please come at once, she had almost sent him away. She probably would have, had it been anyone else asking for her help. She was the matriarch of the Changretta family, and she answered the summons of no one. 

“Luca,” she said, stepping deeper into the room, towards where he was seated on the couch, staring straight ahead, gnawing so hard on the toothpick wedged between his teeth that she thought he might splinter it in half. Glass crunched under her heels.

She lowered herself into the seat beside him, keeping her back straight, watching her son scrutinizingly. 

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer her, and Audrey bristled. 

“When your mother asks a question, you answer it, Luca.”

“She got away,” he growled, eyes still staring straight ahead. “She fucking got away.”

“Who?”

“The Red Demon. Lucy Winters.”

Audrey felt her stomach fall into her toes, though she did not let it show on her face. “How?”

Luca shook his head. “Shelby found her, we think. The fucking gardener was found this morning, laid out on the doorstep of one of our old businesses, with his throat cut and his eyes torn out.”

“The gardener talked? But I thought you had men protecting him…”

“Yeah. Two men who we can’t locate. They were last seen at a pub with Smith. They were probably drunk when the Peakys arrived. Didn’t stand a fucking chance. Not that anyone who was at the pub that night will tell us anything.”

Audrey cursed in Italian under her breath. “But you left guards with Winters.”

“They’re all dead.”

“All of them?”

“Yes. Shelby must have killed them all.”

“Or she did.”

Luca finally looked at her. “She was barely able to stay conscious when I left her. She’s cut up and beaten within an inch of her life. There’s no way that she–”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop underestimating her before you listen to me!?” With a sharp, controlled movement, she cuffed him around the back of the head like she used to when he was small. “If any of your men gave her so much as a sliver of an opportunity, I promise you that she took it.”

“And killed all of them?”

She looked around the room, a casualty of Luca’s wrath undoubtedly after he learned the news of Winters’s escape. Her mind wound back to when Lucy Winters first arrived in Small Heath. The stories that had soon began to follow her. “She’s done it before.” She turned her gaze back onto her son. “You should have just killed her when you had the chance.”

“We’ll get her back.”

“No, you won’t. Thomas isn’t going to let her out of his sight now.” Frustration mounted in her veins, making itself known through a venomous look thrown Luca’s way, shaking her head. “You had the opportunity of a lifetime. You had her in your clutches. Do you understand how profound of an effect her death would have had on Thomas? They say he went half mad with grief over his wife’s death. What do you think killing Winters would have done to him? It would have crippled him. Or we could have used her as a bargaining tool. Or bait. Something.” She stood, towering over him, her disappointment mounting with every passing moment. How could he have been so stupid!? “And you just wanted to play out some silly little revenge fantasy. Instead of actually using your victory to your advantage. Your father and I taught you better than that.”

“Isn’t that what this all is? Revenge, mother? I was paying her back for all the pain she’s caused. She was there when they tortured my father. She’s already killed more than a handful of our men. She deserved to know what it felt like. Besides, she’s not going to be much use to Shelby at all with how badly injured she is.”

Audrey shook her head. No use. He really thought that the woman who likely kept Thomas Shelby standing upright with her mere presence was of no use to him. “You have not listened to a single word that I’ve said, have you?”

Luca looked up at her, hurt cracking across his eyes. “I’ve done everything that you’ve told me to do.”

Head shaking back and forth, she went to the door.

“There’s the boxing match next week. We’ll strike a blow, then,” Luca called after her. 

“Better pray it’s a big one, then. Because you’re running out of time.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Lizzie pushed the door to the bedroom open with her fingertips, peering in to find Lucy asleep, curled on her side in bed, a quilt pulled up over her chest, bandages wrapped around what looked to be most of her body. Tommy was hunched over in a chair at her bedside, Lucy’s hand in his. Ada was standing next to him, her hand on his shoulder while she looked down at Lucy’s sleeping figure. 

“How is she?” she asked. Tommy cleared his throat, wetting his lips. 

“Her back is…shredded. He whipped her,” Lizzie saw his hand tighten where it rested against his knee. “He reopened all her scars from…” he paused as if unable to bring himself to actually say it out loud, “from what happened to her in London before she came to us.”

“Jesus,” Ada breathed, a hand going to her lips. 

“She took a bullet to her shoulder. I removed it. Cleaned and stitched her up. Gave her something for the pain and to help her sleep.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “She said that he bound her from the ceiling so that she was dangling with her arms above her head for days. I don’t…” he had to pause to get his voice under control. Ada rested a hand on his upper arm while he bowed his head. “I don’t know what kind of permanent damage that might’ve done.” 

“But she’s alive.”

“Yes,” he agreed, though there was something in his voice that seemed to indicate that he wasn’t wholly confident in that statement. 

“I’ll take Charlie for a few nights. He shouldn’t see her like this.”

“Thank you.” 

“And Polly and Arthur will deal with everything else for the time being. You don’t need to worry about it. There’s still Bonnie’s boxing match with Alfie’s boy, but…”

“Someone needs to call Alfie and tell him we found her.”

“Already done. He said to tell you that he’ll deal with the last few arrangements that need to be made for the fight.”

“Right.”

“Doctor Evans will be here within an hour.”

“Good.” Lizzie wondered if the doctor was going to be in for a good scolding for not coming right as soon as he was called.

There was the clack of nails against the hardwood floor in the hallway, and then Asher was squeezing around Lizzie’s legs, nosing open the slightly ajar door to wander into the bedroom. Bypassing both Tommy and Ada, he raised his head to sniff at Lucy’s face. His tail drooped, ears falling downwards as a small whine left his throat. Tommy reached out to stroke the dog’s back. 

“I know, boy. I know. She’s okay.”

Asher looked back at him, then to Lucy, whining again. Tommy drew him away gently.

“Let her sleep, Ash.”

The black shepherd let out another soft whine, laying down next to the bed with his head on his paws, his dark brown eyes fixed dutifully on Lucy, watching over her protectively.

“Do you need anything else?” Ada asked, hand smoothing up and down Tommy’s back.

“No.”

“Call me if you do. I’ll gather up Charlie and head home. I think Polly was planning on sleeping over in one of the spare rooms.” She stood. 

“Ada,” he called, mindful to still keep his voice quiet enough that he would not wake Lucy. She turned back to him. “Thank you.”

She gave him a tiny small and a quick nod, before going to the door. Her grave gaze met Lizzie’s, reaching out only to give her a squeeze to the arm before heading to the stairs, leaving her standing in the doorway alone. 

Hands ringing together, Lizzie turned back to the bedroom, taking a cautious step forward into the room. 

“Tommy?”

He started at the sound of her voice, head raising. His eyes looked red rimmed and tired. “What?”

She ignored the bite of hurt at his sharp tone, reminding herself that he’d had more than a trying couple of days. “I’m going to go home.” 

His gaze sharpened. “Luca knows where you live.”

“I know, but I don’t think he’ll come after me right now. And…” she looked at his hand still clasped tightly in Lucy’s. Her heart twisted and fractured in her chest. “I can’t stay here.” I can’t watch you love someone else.

Tommy’s eyes searched hers, and she swore that she saw a spark of guilt as he read what was likely obvious in her gaze. “Does your house have a spare room?”

Her annoyance flared. “You’d know if you actually came to visit.”

Tommy looked away, jaw tightening. She took a deep breath.

“Yes, it does.” Her voice was softer.

“Skudboat will be sleeping there until the vendetta is over. And I’ll have multiple armed guards watching the house at all times. Isiah will be re-vetting all of your staff too, before they come back to work.”

“Fine.”

“All right, then.”

That was clearly her cue to leave, but she hesitated, gaze shifting to the tiny figure curled up on the bed. “Is she going to be okay?” she asked, voice hardly a whisper. Tommy’s shoulders heaved, and for a second she thought that he wouldn’t answer. 

“No. No, she won’t.” His voice was low and mournful, as if she had died and was gone forever rather than asleep right in front of him. A shiver went down Lizzie’s spine, looking in slight alarm at the woman who’d caused her so much emotional turmoil. 

Three days of brutal torture. That was enough to leave anyone scarred in and out for life. She wondered in what ways Lucy would be changed after this.

Chilled by the thought, Lizzie quickly made for the door.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Lucy.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on the mattress on either side of her, eyes staring blankly at a spot on the floor. Tommy pushed the bedroom door closed with a click behind Doctor Evans, leaving Polly to escort him out while he came to sit down beside her. 

“Sweetheart?”

A choked off sob left her lips, hand flying to her mouth a second too late to try to contain it. 

“Hey,” he wrapped his arm around her carefully, pulling her into his side. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head furiously from side to side, turning her face to bury in his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Doctor Evans said that all those cuts will heal…”

Yes, to leave disgusting, raised scars in their wake. 

But that wasn’t even what was really bothering her. 

“My-my shoulders…” she managed to whimper out, and she felt Tommy tense a little against her. 

“He said with time and the right exercises, you might be able to minimize the long-term damage done to them…”

She shook her head. She’d seen the look in Doctor Evans’s eyes, same as he had. That much time spent with her arms positioned over her head, with her entire body weight dangling from them, had likely done catastrophic damage to the nerves. And yes, he may have given her a set of exercises and stretches to do once the inflammation went down and her cuts healed enough that she wouldn’t risk reopening them, but she had seen it in his face. It would never be the same again. Her range of motion in them would be permanently impacted, and she’d likely have pains in them for the remainder of her life. 

“I can’t…I might not be able to…” Why couldn’t she just get the bloody words out? Was she really so useless now that she couldn’t even speak? “What use am I to you now?” she forced herself to ask in a hoarse whisper. Tommy’s eyes widened, scooting closer to her.

“What do you mean?”

Her mind tumbled over itself with all the potential implications that her injuries could have. “What if I can’t fight anymore? Or the pain gets so bad I can barely function? What if I can’t do my job? Or…or…or…” her chest started to spasm, cinching hard and closing off her ability to speak, sobs and harsh gasps rattling in her lungs. 

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy…” Tommy gathered her up in her arms, pulling her in close to his chest. “Shh,” he started to rock her from side to side, hand cradling the back of her skull protectively. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” There was so much confidence in his voice that she was in danger of actually believing him. “I’ll take care of you. If you need physical accommodations for anything, we’ll sort them out, all right?”

“But–”

“Love, you’re useful for far more than just swinging fists.” Tommy tried to reassure, leaning back to smooth away her tears with his thumbs, cradling her face in his big palms. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. There’s nothing that could ever make me toss you aside, okay?” His lips brushed against her forehead. “All you need to focus on is healing and resting, eh?”

She swallowed, nodding shakily, taking a deep breath to try to steady herself. Gaze fixing with Tommy’s, she let the deep blue of his eyes ground her, reminding her that she was safe and looked after. Tommy gave her a small, reassuring smile. 

“Good girl. C’mere.” He guided her gently into laying back down on the bed on her side, and she felt a pulse of fondness at the way he immediately began fussing over her. Fluffing her pillow and pulling the blankets up to her chin. “What do you need? Are you hungry? I think Ada or Polly made soup, if you want some.” He stood at her bedside, ready to jump at any request she might give him. 

“Could you just come lay with me for a bit?”

His eyes softened, nodding and climbing in under the blankets next to her. He rested his arm lightly around her waist, taking care not to touch her back or jostle her bandages.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, cheeks warming at her little meltdown and how frantic and irrational she probably had seemed.

“Oh, sweetheart, no. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”  

Resting her hand on his forearm, Lucy rubbed her thumb back and forth against the soft material of his undershirt. He had changed into just a white Henley identical to the one he gave her to pull over her bandages, and a pair of trousers.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t find you sooner,” he said, thumb stroking her cheekbone. 

She shook her head. “I know that you did the best you could.” Adjusting herself, she stifled a wince at accidentally placing too much pressure on her bruised ribs. There wasn’t really any part of her that she could lay on without any discomfort, but being on her side was significantly better than being on her back. “How did you find me?”

“Our boys found Lizzie’s gardener who sold you out. His name was Paul Smith. Xavier Smith’s father. You remember Xavier Smith, right?”

Ah, that explained why the old man gave her up, then. “Yes.”

“I got him to talk.”

“How?”

He looked down. She inched her face closer to his in encouragement, until their noses almost brushed. 

“I pulled out both his eyes.” The way that he looked at her suggested that he expected her to recoil in horror, but she did no such thing, hardly even blinking at the revelation.  

“Is he still alive?”

A tiny, half sheepish smile crossed Tommy’s lips. “No. Not unless he can live with his head nearly sawed off.”

“You did that for me?” she asked, eyes wide.  

“Of course,” Tommy said, as if there had never been any question in his mind that he would. “I had to find you.”

She put her head on his chest, weak arms looping around his middle. He rested his palms on her gingerly, careful not to pull at her bandages when he held her.

“Try to get some more rest.”

“When’s the fight between Bonnie and Goliath?”

“In a week.”

“I want to come.”

He drew back to look at her worriedly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I’m sure. I…” biting her lip, she glanced towards the window, then back at him. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He looked her up and down. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” she put her head on his chest, blinking slowly as exhaustion took hold of her once more. Tommy’s hand continued to pet at her hair. 

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And he was, when she woke but only a few short hours later, screaming. 

Her brain was fogged over with panic, hands scratching and scrabbling, legs kicking to try to fight off the monsters that moments ago she had been certain were surrounding her.

“Lucy! Lucy!” 

Her eyes darted around the room madly, searching for any signs of Luca looming in the dark corners, wicked grin pulling at the corners of his lips as he prepared to elicit more pain onto her.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and she thrashed violently, crying out, swatting with flailing hands. 

“Get off of me!” she screamed, trying to scramble away. He was here. He was here and he was going to hurt her again unless she managed to get away…

“Lucy.” Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, keeping her from rolling away. She tried to kick out, one foot colliding hard with the wall to her left with a bang. “It’s me. It’s me. Come here. Come here.”

Her breaths were coming out in fast, frantic little bursts, eyes bulging in their sockets. 

“Deep breaths,” the voice behind her commanded, and she felt a stockily built chest rise as its owner’s lungs filled with oxygen, then slowly lower as he let the breath out. “Match my breathing, come on.”

Her mind finally managed to catch up with what was going on around her, or at least enough that she was able to recognize that the voice rumbling her ear very much was not the hissing murmur that belonged to Luca Changretta. 

Her lungs stuttered, then almost unconsciously started to match the deep rise and falls of Tommy’s chest against her. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, at her growing still. “Do you see the pictures on the wall?”

She had to squint to make them out in the darkness, but across from the bed she found the painting of a horse standing in a forest, the leaves changing colors with the seasons and fluttering to the grass that the mare was grazing upon in a layer of reds, oranges, and yellows.

Tommy’s cheek was resting against hers, his breath warm against her ear. She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest when he spoke again. 

“The items on the nightstand?”

Her gaze cast over. To the little lamp. A half filled glass of whiskey. An ashtray dusted with black ash, with too many cigarette butts to count smashed in its center.

“Uh huh.”

“He doesn’t have you anymore.” She felt Tommy relax as he felt the tension in her start to slip away. “You’re safe,” his lips just barely ghosted across her temple. “You’re safe, Lucy. There you go.” 

Certain that she was actually lucid and calmed, he loosened his grip on her, pulling away slightly to flick on the lamp, washing the entire room in its dull, golden glow. Lucy cringed and squinted at the sudden change in brightness. 

Sinking down into the mattress, she drew her arms up to her chest, tremors starting to wrack through her body, eyes welling with tears. Her back connected with the bed, and she sharply jerked away from it with a yelp. 

Whether it was that action that caused the following hurricane of pain, or just what drew her mind’s attention to it, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t entirely matter, the result was the same. She was suddenly deeply aware of just how much everything hurt.                 

It was howling within her, her wounds screaming and muscles aching. Her back once more felt as though it had been set ablaze. Her split skin throbbed. Her shoulders hurt so badly it sent sparks of white flaring across her eyes. 

A sob left her lips, twitching as though she might be able to wriggle away from the pain. But moving only made everything worse. 

“Luce?” And then Tommy was there, leaning over her with wide, worried eyes. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“H-hurts…” she barely could get the word out, but it was enough. Tommy shot up, reaching for the nightstand, pulling from the drawer the bottle of morphine that the doctor had left for her, along with a prescription for more if she needed it. He snatched up the glass of whiskey, downing the remaining of the amber liquid, then pouring a small amount of her medicine into the glass. 

“Drink this,” he held it to her lips. The morphine was cold as it touched her tongue and slid down her throat. “Come here,” setting the glass aside, he reached out for her, smoothing his hand along the side of her face. “Look at me. Focus on my voice. Just give it a few minutes love, hm? You’ll be okay.”

Just as he said, it took only a few minutes, and the pain was dulled, her eyes starting to feel heavy again. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sniffing. Tommy shook his head. 

“It’s okay.”

With a sigh, she let her head rest on his chest. “‘M a fucking mess,” she lamented sorrowfully. 

“No, honey. No, you’re not. You’re just recovering. It’s alright. I gotcha.” He put his arms around her. “Light on or off?”

“Off.” It was too bright with it on. She felt his muscles flex against her as he reached over to flick it off. “You’re a good nurse.”

His chest buzzed pleasantly against her ear with a quiet chuckle. “You’re high as a kite, love.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to stay.” She desperately wanted him to, but she didn’t want him to feel like he had to continue to stick around and gather up the pieces every time she fell apart. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d be waking up screaming and thrashing from nightmares probably for the foreseeable future. He was probably exhausted. He needed to rest too. “I’ll probably keep waking you up…”

“Good.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “I want you to wake me up every time that you need something.”

Her lips pouted with the desire to cry again at how nice he was being towards her. She stroked her fingers lazily across his chest, feeling how warm and strong he was; reassuring herself that she was probably as safe as was realistically possible when in the circle of his arms. 

His fingers curled under her chin, tilting her face up to look into his. “I love you, Lucy,” he kissed her softly, lips soft as a pillow against hers. Tears filled her eyes.

“I love you too.”

He smiled at her gently, placing another kiss between her brows. “Sleep,” he said, and encouraged her to snuggle back down into his chest. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at her reflection in the mirror in the washroom, hands gripping either side of the sink’s basin, knuckles white, lip caught between her teeth. Glassy, dead green eyes looked back at her, their judgment harsh and sharp. 

God, she looked fucking awful.

The bruises on her face had faded into unflattering shades of purple, green, and yellow. Her skin was sickly, eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles.

And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of her. She looked like she had been patchworked back together, like a blanket with dozens of holes in it that had been mended with other various scraps of fabric. Or maybe like a crude attempt at dressing up like Frankenstein’s monster. 

She knew that the other women–Polly, Ada, Linda, and Lizzie–had all planned to get dolled up in elegant, beaded dresses and expensive jewels and furs for the occasion of Bonnie’s boxing match. There was no way that she could go out like that. The best she would be able to do was dress in layers that would prevent her bandages from getting disturbed too much, and hope that she could hide most of the bruises on her face with makeup. 

Tugging at the white button down and trousers she had already pulled on earlier with Tommy’s help, she frowned, pulling her belt a few notches tighter to cinch more securely around her waist. After three days of being fed only tiny scraps of bread, she had lost weight. Also probably not helped by the fact that she’d barely had the appetite to eat anything save for small servings of chicken noodle soup for most of the past week.  

Leaning closer to the mirror, she dabbed a little more makeup over a bruise on her cheekbone, trying hard not to wince at the way that the movement pulled tightly at her shoulders. 

She did not realize just how much she raised her arms up over her head until she was practically unable to. She couldn’t even grab her favorite mug from the cupboard because it was on a high shelf.                  

A soft knock sounded at the door. “You okay in there, love?” Tommy’s voice called. Lucy sighed, rubbing at her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Be out in a second.”

He had hardly left her side for the last week. Even getting him to let her use to loo on her own had taken a significant amount of convincing. But she appreciated the worry. Frankly the idea of not being close to him was enough to have her teetering on the edge of a panic attack. 

Wiping her hands on a towel, she looked herself up and down one last time in the mirror, sighing and determining that this was probably about as good as she was going to be able to manage at the moment. 

When she stepped out into the hall, it was to find Tommy leaning against the opposite wall, turning a cigarette over and over between his fingers anxiously. He straightened when he saw her, wedging the cigarette between his lips and holding out a hand to help usher her back into the bedroom. 

Her fingers fiddled together as she stepped towards the bed, picking up her waistcoat and shoving her arms through the holes, thankful that it buttoned in the front so she wouldn’t have to raise her arms to get it on. Tommy approached her, reaching out to do up the buttons for her, then helping her into her matching suit jacket and coat. 

It felt strange to be in her normal clothes after over a week spent in bed in little more than one of Tommy’s shirts. Not exactly a bad strange, though. It would probably do her good to return to a routine.

Tommy smiled down at her, brushing a fallen curl back behind her ear. “Ready?”

“I look like shit.”

His brows pulled together, thrusting out a hand for her to take so he could draw her closer to him, head angling down to kiss her. “You look beautiful. C’mon.”

His fingers squeezed around hers as he led the way down the stairs and to the door. The fresh air, no matter how smoky, felt good on her cheeks after so many days spent cooped up inside. 

“You know, you don’t have to come if you aren’t feeling up to it. I’m sure Ada would be happy to stay with you,” Tommy said as they walked. His gait was noticeably slower than usual, to make sure that she wouldn’t struggle to keep up. 

Lucy shook her head. The idea of not being with him left her feeling panicky. 

“I want to stay with you.”

“Okay,” he didn’t question her. “But you let me know if you’re in pain. Or if you need to go home.”

“Okay.”

Once they got to the boxing ring, she stood at his side, keeping her cap on despite them being indoors, her head angled down to let the shadows it cast partially hide the bruises on her face. Her arms looped through his, hoping that it looked more like she was just lingering close to him as she so often did, and not because she needed to lean on him for stability. The shouts of men and the crush of bodies crowded together seemed louder and more overwhelming than usual. But that may have been because she was pretty sure that if someone jostled into her too hard, she would tip over.

Just before the first round started, Tommy drew her away, his grip firm to help support her as they weaved through the tight maze of hallways that made up the backrooms.

“I thought it would be good for us to sit somewhere quiet for a minute,” he explained, guiding her to a bench in one of the locker rooms. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she took the cigarette that he offered her, leaning into his side when he sat down beside her. He gingerly wrapped his arm around her, resting the side of his head against her hair. 

Her physical ailments aside, what unnerved her the most was her mind. That feeling of numbness and desolation that had overtaken her the day that Tommy brought her home had not abated. Had not even eased at all, really. 

Was this what her mind was to be like, now? Aching and constantly overstimulated? Both simultaneously feeling everything and nothing? 

She did not want to live like that.

“Lucy?” Tommy asked, thumb stroking her shoulder through the material of her coat.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she blurted out. It really meant a lot; she knew that she wasn’t particularly fun to be around right now, and with the thousands of other things he had to worry about, that he’d chosen to prioritize her was no small thing.

“Love, you don’t have to thank me for that. It’s what we do.”

She allowed herself a small smile at that, despite the unending anxiety that plagued her; that feeling that there was yet another piece of her that had died in that church. A part of her that was lost forever. 

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[velvet-paradox]

Balance

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Sebastian Krueger x Female reader Summary: your fuck buddy takes you in the shower. Length: Medium Tagging: @synnersaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, established relationship, voyeurisms (ya'll are fucking in a shower so that counts), unprotected p in v, swallowing, cum eating, detailed smut.

ENJOY!!!

He wasn't a creepy by any means, he was more observant; a fly on the wall, curious in nature. Intrusive thoughts lead to intrusive visions and the more he sat and dwelled on them the more obsessed he'd become. These feelings were not on his radar. There was no expectation, no limits, no planned process. Fly by the seat of his pants, devil may care, play things but ear but then he happened to meet you. And all that flew right out the fucking window.

Uh oh.

This was new, very new territory for the man. He'd been requested, specifically by a man named captain John Price of the 141. He'd be on retainer, handsomely paid, taken care of with the highest respect. With the sum he'd been offered who was he to turn it down? A little stint, all expenses paid as well, was a dream. As he thought of where he'd vacation after you had stepped into the frame. Shattered what resolve he'd had, the walls he'd neatly laid by hand, trauma after trauma.

You touched your ear, earrings dangling in the light and handed Price a neat stack of color coded folders one early afternoon. You looked at him. Sebastian thought you'd be nervous, skittish, afraid even by his head to toe covering, sitting widely at the back of the briefing room, taking up as much space as he needed. But you didn't. He'd later found out why.

He'd heard the name König once or twice in passing, a monster, a thief in the night, the boogeyman. If you weren't scared of König then there's no way you'd be scared of him. And you weren't. You were sweet on him just as he was to you. If he wasn't careful you'd give him a toothache.

It started with casual pleasantries.

Good morning, Krueger.

Gut Morgen my dear.

Two sugars, right?

No pickles.

You fell asleep once with your head against his bicep, exhausted, wiped out. Your head was so small in comparison to his arm, he could crush you like a bug. He'd done so with enemies of the past. He just looked down at you with a smile behind his head covering, blushing a little as you shifted deeper into his side.

You were never in field. Kept safe on base or at the rendezvous point. Out of sight, out of harm and yet even though you were never with him on the battlefield, you were on his mind. Maybe you felt it. Some telekinesis going on but as he laid low, out of harms way on a rooftop in the scorching Sahara, his comms crackled to life.

"Come in Krueger, what's your location?"

"Rooftop. Ten clicks south of the point, target inbound."

"Good. Ghost and Sergeant soap are on their way, wait for my go ahead before clearing the building."

"Roger that."

"Hey Sebastian?"

The sound of his birth name, coming from your mouth made him suddenly hyper aware and stiff. You only ever called him Krueger and it was in that very moment, that dusty hot second that he realized you'd canceled everyone else out, this was a one on one channel.

Alone.

"Ja?"

"You get this job done and make it back to base in one piece," your voice paused and returned momentarily with a smile he could only imagine. "I'll let you buy me dinner."

He'd never gotten a job done quicker than that. No wasted ammo, no casualties. His black heart was full and pumping when he boarded the helo, shoving their prisoner to the wall, seatbelt maybe a little too tight but for good reason, keep him for safe travel and questioning. He had a pep in his step and a grin on his face the whole time.

No one suspected a thing.

You were too cool, too aloof and breezy to let anything unsavory exist. He wondered how did it. How you could be so vulnerable, docile and submissive behind closed doors but be this calm outside of them. Balance, he supposed.

He watched you chat with Gaz, laughing at one of his many told jokes, one he'd heard a handful of times since joining the company. He could only muse how many times you must've heard it.

Kreuger leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, listening but not paying any attention oh no. His sole attention was on you. How you smiled, the way you gently touched his Kyle's shoulder, the way your eyes glinted in the awful florescent lighting. The curve of your mouth, the tilt of your hip. The way your face changed when you caught him watching you.

You were trouble.

A brat.

The way you just so happen to let slip that you'd been needing a long hot shower after this exhausting week let him know your next move. Which meant Sebastian knew his.

It wasn't too long after departure did he venture out of his temporary quarters. A plain grey dresser and matching desk, walk in closet that was mostly bare save for a few key items and his toiletries, a decent king sized bed that he'd fucked you on all four corners of. The first of many late nights and bj's were had on those crisp sheets.

He waited until the rookies had their lights out checks before he slipped out of his room, a heavy towel around his bare shoulders, his tattoos and scars on display as he made his way down to the showers. Luckily the staff had their own private showers, no sharing or horseplay in there. There were at least stalls and cubicles for safety and privacy. Perfect. Krueger made sure the coast was clear before slipping into the room. The sound of a powerful shower head filled the space, warm steam and the scent of your body wash cloaked him in perverse glee. He double locked the door, holding onto the ends of his towel around his shoulders, Sebastian strutted through the locker room. He could hear you humming, coming around one of the corners he caught you with your face dripping with water, the palms of your hands at your eyes.

"Well what have we here?"

His thick accent made you jump and cover your not so private parts. You twisted and turned you're body to shield yourself.

"Krueger! You scared me you little perv, you're not supposed to be in here."

He laughed at your display, still soapy and slick. "I am not Krueger when we are alone, remember? Or… does my little toy need some reminding?"

"Sebastian!"

"What?"

"You can't… what if someone else is in here?"

"There isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Hallo!!??" He shouted, cupping around his mouth, he smiled in silence. "See? It's just you, me and the terrible water pressure."

You scoffed at that.

"Well… are you going to finish cleaning up or what?"

"With you watching?"

"Ja. Why not?"

"I feel like a goldfish." You admitted, still keeping some of your dignity which Krueger thought was cute.

"My dear, I have seen you much more compromising positions than simply bathing."

"That's not the point." You stuttered and looked down at your toes. "Should I perhaps join you then, schatzi? Would that be better?"

The water from your lashes streaked down your cheeks when you smiled and held out your soapy loofah. "Much."

….

He'd said it plenty of times before; you never looked better but each time it was a lie for the next time he got you alone. The suds of soap on your already soft and wet skin glistened in the low light, dripping down your arms, your legs, how the soap clung to your collarbones.

Beautiful.

Krueger removed his face covering, his belly flipped when you eyes him up and down as he stepped out of his sweats, kicking them aside along with his towel. Your traveling eyes only furthered his confidence as he came into your shower cubicle.

His wingspan was enough to block you in the tight quarters, the water rushed over your curves as you backed up, letting him into the space. His mind played tricks and thought intrusively that he could bust down these bricks like cardboard at the look you were giving him just then.

"Is this better, mein schatz?"

"Come closer." You breathed and moved around the shower, keeping your eyes locked on his as it was his turn to stand underneath the water. It splashed and dribbled down his body, his muscles warming in its delicate embrace.

Your hands looked so small whenever you touched him, going over his abdomen with the soapy loofah. He didn't mind that he'd be smelling like mango and shea. He found it pleasing, reminded him of you and suddenly the thought of having to buy a bottle of the stuff to occupy his toiletries once he left this place made him a little somber.

He didn't want to leave you.

The big killing man had a soft spot for you.

Sure, the others gave him shit for following you around like you had some invisible leash around his neck, he'd break fingers and backs of any of your enemies if given the lucky chance. He did so with ease because he was the one to warm your bed, make you laugh and hold you close.

Better to just fuck it out, his feelings could sort themselves down as they circled down the drain.

Your begging made him harder, you both knew his cock fit but to hear you beg for it, plead for him to give it to you made him feral. He grabbed your hip hard and placed your foot on the soap dish partition as he leaned forward, teasing you both as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, slipping the shaft between your folds. He didn't press in right away, making you arch and pull him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Make it fit, Sebastian. Make it fit. Stretch me out." You whined, watching him rock his cock up against your folds, coating him with your arousal.

"That's what you want, hmm? Are you worried it won't?" Krueger teased, smiling at your focused face.

"I just…I just want it in me," you batted your lashes then, inching your pussy forward, begging for a little more friction, something only his cock could seem to reach. "I need you."

"Ah, and not just five minutes ago you were shooing me out of here, no? Now look at you, looking to get fucked in the showers by a visiting war criminal."

"Are you trying to turn me on even more?" Your giggle melted into a satisfied moan when he stuffed himself inside you. Thick, rock hard pulsing muscle sinking in deeper. You rested your head on his shoulder the closer he got.

"Oh fuck. That's it."

"This what you wanted, my dear? How quickly you fold for me, ja? How quickly your resolve leaves your body once you are full of me."

Krueger taunted, circling his hips as he held your ankle on the soap dish. His other hand came up to cup your breast as he really started to move and fuck you.

It was so hot and dirty, soap slick skin, sloppy wet kisses caught in between. You licked inside his mouth, your nails scratching down his back. You matched his enthusiasm, moving in unison.

Krueger planted his feet along the slick floor, grunting your name, panting out little phrases.

"Good girl."

"Keep it coming, baby. That's it."

"Good job baby, good job taking it all in."

"Ohhh you are really trying to milk my cock, hmmm? Go on then, squeeze me, squeeze it all out."

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, keening and begging for more. The grey cloud of leaving you, this moment, this kind of sex crept around his shoulders. He hated it, shaking his head, wetting his face under the water.

"It's so good. You're so good," you cooed, petting his face and staring blissfully into his eyes. "So so good to me."

Krueger would be lying if your admittance didn't steal his breath. How you looked, in general and the way you looked at him like he was everything. Some precious jewel, a forbidden item. He licked his lips and kissed you hard, holding you somehow closer as his cock brushed up deep, nudging a spot inside your cunt that drove you wild. You bit his tongue.

"Oh shit, do that again! Fuck that's good."

"Ja, you like that? Like how I fit so perfectly in your perfect little cunt," Sebastian chuckled as you nodded frantically. "Wish I could take you with me. Keep you like trinket. Fuck, clench around me."

"I am." You moaned.

Sebastian paused, lifting your chin from his shoulder, cupping your cheek. He blinked rapidly.

"I put in a transfer."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? I'm not even from here!"

He gave you sideways look, brows coming together, broken pieces of him were being molded together, weaved together with whatever witchcraft you had. He would never get enough.

"Fuck yes." Krueger kissed you again, sweeter than the last but there was more feeling behind it. "You're mine. All mine now."

Your sobs for more boosted his already incredibly high ego, making him fuck you faster, made him feral with desire as he pinched your nipples, bit the side of your neck, groaned almost pathetically into your ear, licked the shell of it. He called you every beautiful word he knew, huffing when you sang his name.

"Fuck I'm… it's coming, I'm coming, Make me cum, please! I need it, I need it so badly. I'm gonna' cum so fucking hard, don't stop don't stop don't--"

"Atta' girl, there's my girl, Moan it out baby, let me hear it. Let me know how good you feel right now." Krueger sighed when you responded in kind, whining and throbbing your release around him. He wasn't going to last much longer either, everything felt so decadent and warm and safe.

Sebastian pulled out, fucking his fist instead but lost his balance as you suddenly dropped down to your knees, your hot mouth on his cock, tasting yourself along with his pre-cum made him groan. His breath hiccupped the deeper you took him down your throat.

"Fuck… that's it baby, good God you're so good at taking cock. Doesn't matter which hole. Swallow it down, that's it. Be a good girl, fuck… swallow it all down. It's coming baby, get that pretty mouth ready for me. I can't---I'm coming. Here it comes baby."

You looked like a goddess down there, swallowing his load, gulping it down. You barely showed him your empty mouth before he hauled your ass back up to your feet, crushing you into a sudsy embrace. He kissed you again, tasting everything.

"You are everything to me." He confessed.

"That's why I'm coming with you. Where you go, I go."

He'd figure something out, he thought as the water began to chill. Mixing business with pleasure was always a toss up, could make for a shaky foundation but that's the thing with balance.

[xmalereader]

John Price X Vampire! Male reader || ONE ||

—

|| Masterlist || TWO ||

-

Authors note: I’ve been wanting to write a vampire reader for one of the characters and thought this one would fit, I do have another AU in mind but it’s taking time to figure out on who I want in this other shot, but either way enjoy this first part!

Summary: Reader is a vampire who works in the task force alongside his husband. His profile is classified and no one knows about his biology and what who he really is, what happens when his new team finds out about him?

Warnings: Blood, violence, reader wears a face mask, language, price is overprotective, mentions of death, death threats, task 141 is cautious about reader, reader is a softie, price and reader are married.

Word count: 2.9K

-

—

John knew the trouble he would bring if he was to get his husband involved with his team. They have been through hell together and have been betrayed by two great people that his team had grown cautious whenever a new member tried to join or get to know the team. They always found a way to get rid of them or force them out of the team without trouble. John was risking a lot with getting his husband involved with his mission and team but, knew that it was worth it. He worked with special ops and gained a few titles with time and John wanted him on his next mission.

It took some time to convince Laswell to let him on his team. She was stubborn and refused every time he asked. She wasn’t rejecting him because she didn’t think he was capable of doing his job but because he could bring danger to the team and to John. His husbands file as classified, hidden deep away from any other governmental prying hands who tried to get access to his information and if anyone got their hands on or they wouldn’t find much.

Only a simple name and title, nothing else. He was a ghost to the world. It took some time to finally convince Laswell to allow his husband to join, causing the women to cave and sending his husband to his base where he stood waiting for the plane to land.

“He is your responsibility, John.” Laswell had said. “You keep him in check and make sure that he’s stocked with food.” She was looking out for her own, but even she was cautious of Johns partners whereabouts. John already knew the drill of bringing his husband along. He had told the team ahead of time that a new member would be joining them for some time and to welcome him.

When the helicopter finally lands and his husband steps out with a bag slung over his shoulder he can’t help but grin at the sight of his favorite man. He wore all black from head to toe, face mask over his nose and mouth as he makes his way over to John, giving the man a bashful wave as he smiled under his mask.

“Hello, love.” John says in a soft tone while his husband chuckles. “Not on base.” He reminds the captain, knowing that the two are to keep their life together a secret and remain professional when around each other. “Right, don’t want any questions from the others.” Price nods towards his base and guides his husband inside.

The two are speaking in a soft whisper. “I want to remind you that my team doesn’t know about your biology. Will have to keep it on the down low.”

Y/n frowns under his mask and nods either way, understanding the casualties and danger he could bring. It always upset him, knowing that his new team wouldn’t like having a vampire walking around base knowing that they could be attacked or killed. John knew that Y/n would never hurt anyone, he’d learned to control his thirst for years and only drank animal blood. He still had the ability to eat regular human meals and could last weeks without blood. He always made sure that he was packed with stored blood, hiding them deep inside his bag.

The two walked down a hallway and reached an open room where prices team stood waiting for them. Upon entering the team turns their attention to them, causing Y/n to freeze up. He

has killed, tortured, chased, and beaten hundreds of people when out in the field and yet, here he stood. Anxious and nervous to meet his husbands teammates that he always spoke highly about, afraid of them hating him if they were to find out what he really was.

“Everyone.” John calls out, approaching the team while Y/n followed quietly in his steps. “This is Y/n, one of our new recruits.” He announced while the others eyed him up and down. “What’s he good at?” Asked Soap who stood next to a larger man with a skull mask over his face. The two staring down at him while Price crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s got good eyes and ears; sniper shooter. Never misses.”

“I work in the dark well.” Y/n cuts in. Soap chuckles. “You a good shot?”

“I can prove it.” His response is fast with narrowed eyes. Even though he wanted to be on their good side he can’t help but let his ego show a little.

“You can prove it when your out on the field.” Price steps in, giving him look that meant ‘no fighting’ before turning back to his team. “This is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.” Price finally introduces them to him. Y/n had heard about the three and had only met Gaz a few times due to him sticking with price majority of the time, never leaving his side.

Gaz had heard stories about Y/n from price who spoke highly about him. Gaz always wanted to meet the famous sharp shooter that price wouldn’t stop rambling about whenever they were together on missions. “It’s nice to finally meet you, price speaks about you.” Said Gaz, giving him a firm nod.

Y/n smiles. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course.” Gaz chuckled softly.

It wasn’t until Ghost stepped in to ask him. “Got a call sign?”

Y/n clears his throat. “Tick.” He mumbled out. His call sign wasn’t very creative but the story behind it tells the team how he got the name. There were many times where he wished to change it but it stuck and everyone knew him as ‘tick’ reminding everyone that he will always be a ticking time bomb that’s ready to blow up. The only time that he actually blew up was during his fifth mission in Russia. One of his team mates had gotten ambushed. He was still a kid and young only to be ambushed by Russian soldiers who planned to torture him for information. Y/n had snapped and attacked the soldiers, using his strength and stealth to take them all down, getting blood all over his gear. He hadn’t eaten well that day and had tasted human blood after years of being clean. His team saw who he truly was and they all feared him.

After that mission he was replaced from his team and taken to another base the same day. Y/n had gotten scolded by Laswell and calling him reckless for letting himself snap. After that he’d learned to never go back, no matter how much his team needed him he always looked ahead and completed the mission. That was his job.

“I’ll help tick settle in his new room. We have a meeting at 0700 tomorrow.” Price let’s them know while responding back with a ‘yes, sir’ while getting dragged away from his team. Once the two are alone again he feels johns eyes staring at him. “John—“

“You alright?” John cuts in, giving his husband a worried look while they walk to his new room that was across from Johns. “I’ll be fine.” Y/n whispered back, nudging the door open and setting his bag on the empty table that stood in the middle of the room. “I promised to be careful and besides I won’t be here for long. I saw the way your men watched me—they don’t trust me.”

“Not yet.” John closed the door behind him. “Have you eaten, yet?”

Y/n shrugs his shoulders. “I had a decent meal yesterday before I was brought here.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Johns voice is stern as the two stare at each other until Y/n finally gets what he’s saying. “If your asking if I had blood then yes, I took some two days again. I can last a few weeks without it.” He reminds John that he wasn’t a starved monster who searched for blood everyday. He had control over it and wouldn’t attack anyone if he were to smell blood from miles away.

“I’m looking out for you.”

“You have been for the last five years we’ve been married.” Y/n smirks under his mask, unzipping his bag and began to put his clothes away, keeping them folded and neat. John had looked inside his bag and reached in to take out a blood bag. “Where will you hide these?” He waves the bag in front of him as Y/n looks around the room, not finding any good spots to keep it hidden. “I’ll leave it in the bag.” He takes the bag from John and shoved it back inside, zipping it up and placing it under his bed.

“It’s only for a few days.” He reminds himself, turning to face John who sighed deeply and pulled him close into a tight embrace. “Get some rest.” He mumbled against his neck as the two pull away. Y/n nodded slowly and watched John exit the room, leaving him on his own as he sat on top of the uncomfortable bed. He grew restless during fast changes, traveling from one place to another and not giving him time to get some rest. He’s lucky to have his own space in case he were to ever wake up with red eyes.

It only ever happened when he was really tired and hungry, which is why he keeps everything in check and makes sure it doesn’t happen. The first time he woke up with red eyes was the day of his and Johns honeymoon. They had traveled to Greece in order to spend their special day together and when John first saw his red eyes he nearly gave the man a heart attack. The captain already knew about his biology and the things he did to survive, there was still certain things that caught him by surprise.

It took some time for John to grow used to his habits to the point where he would be the one reminding Y/n about eating properly and to not forget to pack his samples. His husband had grown annoyed at the constant reminders that he’d tell John that he knew when to eat and to let him know if he ever needed blood. Right now, he was in good health with no urges of needing blood. He instead was tired and needed the extra sleep in case he was to ever go out on a mission. He would go across the hall to sneak inside johns room and force the man to cuddle with him but, at the moment the team was wary of him and probably had eyes everywhere. So, he instead removes his gear and plops down face first into the pillow and passing out.

—

The next morning he makes sure to check his eyes. Not seeing a hint of red and getting the go of leaving his room and joining the rest of the team for the meeting that price had arranged. He arrived a little earlier than what he was told and expected to be the first one there but is surprised to see everyone already there. Technically waiting on his arrival.

Price had gotten the meeting going, informing them of their mission and who their target is. They were to be heading out in two days, giving them enough time to get their things ready and to make sure that they have a plan to get things done. After the meeting had ended the team had some time to actually talk, leaving y/n standing near the door as the other either spoke about the mission or had plans to get back to bed and get some extra shut eye.

Soap had glanced at him and asks. “Ever take off the mask or are you like ghost who never does?” He was curious to know as Y/n gives off a sigh. “You wouldn’t like to see what’s underneath.”

“Are you ugly?” Soap pushed on.

Y/n looks over soaps shoulder to see John frowning deeply, causing him to grin. “No, ask your captain. He can give you all the details.” He teased, causing the Sargent to turn around and face price, asking him if he’s seen him without the mask. The captain responds back with a gruff ‘yes’ and nothing else. Y/n chuckles at his teasing and focused back on his own task, working on checking their weapons and listening to soap and ghost argue with each other about the mask.

He didn’t wear a mask because he was afraid of showing his face. He wore a mask because of his teeth, giving everyone clear view of his sharp fangs if he were to ever smile, talking was enough to keep them hidden too afraid of causing problems. John was never bothered to see the fangs so up close and getting a chance to see them clearly. He hopes that the mission goes well and doesn’t slip up with showing what’s underneath the mask or perhaps messes up with his eating schedule. He’s gonna make sure he gets everything ready before they are to leave in a few days.

Y/n gives John a glance before turning around to leave the room. He’s used to not seeing John around the base or back at home. The two were always working and rarely crossed each others paths until now. When Y/n heard that John wanted him on his team he grew excited to see his husband again after weeks of no communication but before he was sent to see him he had a small briefing with Laswell. The women was rough and honest with him when it came towards his job, telling him that if anything happened with him he’d get sent back home. During his time working for the military he had thoughts about retiring or leaving and never coming back.

He was often seen as a liability, even though he had good hear and eyesight. People still feared his lust for blood which later had him thinking as to why John married him. Why did he start dating him and not run away when he first found out what he was. He’d ask John many times and always get the same response back.

“Because, you’re the one for me.”

Y/n sighs deeply when he arrived to his room, kicking the door behind him and walking over to his bed. He gets on his knees and take out the bag full of blood bags and unzips the bag to count how many he brought. He could last weeks without having to drink blood but the smell of it during the field can trigger his hunger even faster and wanted to be prepared. He counted the bags he had before storing them away again.

He had a total of eight, which should be enough to last him for the time he would be here. He’d been distracted thinking about his food supply that he doesn’t hear John entering the room, startling him when he hears him close the door behind him. He turns to glare at the intruder but softens when he only sees John. Sighing in relief and standing back up. “Thought you’d be here.” He says while walking over and sitting down on the empty bed while Y/n shrugs his shoulders. “Where else would I be?”

“Thought you’d give yourself time to know the team.”

Y/n hums. “I think it’s best that I don’t. I wouldn’t want to create a strong bond with them only for it to come crashing down when they found out about these.” He lowered his mask to show off his fangs, frowning a little.

“They won’t, I trust them and know that they won’t treat you differently.”

“You don’t know that.” Y/n whispers, tossing his mask on the bed and sitting next to John, leaning against his shoulder and nuzzling his side. “It’s best that I get the mission done and then leave...” he bites his lip. “I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you about something.”

John stiffens, afraid of those words but Y/n reassured him quickly. “It’s nothing bad.” He chuckled. “I’ve been thinking, after this mission I want to return home. Permanently.” He clarified, glancing up to John to see his reaction expecting him to be upset but instead he gives off a small nod and agrees with him. “If that’s what you want then it’s your choice—don’t forget that I won’t be around. Sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

Y/n tilts his head to the side as he thinks. “I think I’ll be fine.” He’s grown used to being on his own and wouldn’t mind seeing John every few weeks, knowing that his husband could spend months without seeing him. “I’ll write so, that you don’t feel lonely without hearing from your husband.” He joked out while John chuckled at his joke.

“Make sure to send plenty.” John leans down to kiss his temple, pulling him close in his arms and sighing into his neck. The two always enjoyed these silent moments before anything dangerous is to happen. Y/n wanted to finish things fast and get back home and try to start a peaceful life. All he needs to do is get through this mission. Nothing could go wrong, right?

[fairy-writes]

YŪ MEANS BRAVE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Requester: @bublipuppy

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Uta x Human!Investigator!Reader

Prompt: Holding their lover when they cry (Action Prompt #8)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Human!Reader, CCG Investigator!Reader

Notes: We’re pretending that Uta is in his early thirties in this. No matter how much I research, I CAN’T find his age.

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

Uta heard your stifled sobs the moment he unlocked the front door. 

He sets his bag down by the door and toes off his shoes in exchange for slippers. He puts them neatly beside yours and wanders his way through your apartment, peeking his head inside your kitchen, bathroom, and guest bedroom in search of you.

He finds you in the corner of your bedroom, wrapped in the blanket he gifted you for your birthday, and shaking silently. 

He knew this cry.

It was the cry that meant that you just couldn’t stop, that you were trying your hardest not to break down. 

What had happened?

He settles down next to you, tugging the blanket from around your face and announcing his presence.

“It’s me.” He says quietly, and immediately, you’re turning and throwing yourself into his arms, your own going around his waist and burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

Uta doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything really, as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, nosing your hair and inhaling. You smelled absolutely delightful—like blood and muscle and tissue and food.

Hey, he was a ghoul. 

He couldn’t help it. 

It wasn’t like he was going to eat you. 

No, no, no, he cared about you too much for that. 

So he still doesn’t say anything, not a word, only offering what he hoped was a comforting presence. 

Until…

“They’re all dead.” You rasp, and he stills where he had been rocking you gently back and forth.

“Your squad?” He asks and feels you nod. 

That’s right. 

Your squad. 

You were so kind and empathetic toward ghouls that he usually forgot that you were an esteemed member of the CCG. A First Class Investigator at the young age of twenty-seven. You were good at your job, often tasked with training the next generation of ghoul investigators. 

And so you were given a squad to look after and train, much like the Quinx squad that Kaneki was over when he was Sasaki Haise. 

“Can I ask how?” He asked, and you shivered,

“Aogiri Tree. It should have been a quick hit. In and out. But an SS rank showed up. They didn’t stand a chance. And I—I couldn’t get there fast enough.” You whimper, and he pulls back to look at you in the face. Your eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, tears hot and sticky streaking your cheeks, your bottom lip quivers, and he feels his twisted heart ache. 

“Don’t do that to yourself. You had other things to worry about.” He tries, and you shake your head vehemently.

“They were my responsibility! And I still haven’t given these to their families yet!” You shove folded papers at his chest and dissolve into another bout of tears.

He takes a look, and his eyes widen marginally. 

Last testaments.

He had heard about these from you before. All CCG investigators were required to write them before missions such as yours. Especially big ones that always resulted in large amounts of casualties. And it looks like your squad’s had been entrusted to you.

How twisted. How inhumane. How cruel. 

Uta opened one and found himself stopping, almost not comprehending the words on the page. 

“I’M SCARED.

I DON’T WANT TO DIE.”

That was it. Two sentences. They were written in bold kanji, almost tearing the paper in half with how harsh the strokes were. It didn’t even have a name signed at the bottom.

“That was Yū. They were twenty-one.” You croak, and he looks at you. You are avoiding his gaze. 

“Isn’t it funny?” You suddenly say, your voice dark, and he narrows his eyes slightly, “Their name is Yū. Written with the kanji for brave. And yet… they were scared to die.” You say and scrub a hand down your face, getting to your feet and leaving him behind as you meander your way to the kitchen.

You had been looking at the shaky words with dead eyes. 

No emotion. Just… Dead. Like you had cried out all the tears you had. 

He hated that expression. He doesn’t want to see it on your face. He wants you to be happy and loving like you usually were. This expression meant the world was getting to you, sucking the life out of your soul. 

And he didn’t want that.

But he didn’t know how to make it better. 

[dangantums]

AHH I JUST SAW THAT YOU FINISHED AOT!! May I request a Levi burping fic?? (idk if you’re a Eruri stan but if you wanted to have Erwin help him out I would LOVE). THANK YOU SO MUCH❤️❤️❤️

im literally screaming and rattling the bars of my enclosure, YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

No Casualties

this fic contains: intox, bloating, burps, hiccups, belly rubs, SFW content yet some slight NSFW implications

ship: e.ruri ( l.evi X e.rwin -- AOT )

TLDR: in an AU where the scouts are successful a mission that gets rid of titans -- which is a cause to celebrate! however, l.evi indulges a bit too much, leaving e.rwin to take care of him in their quarters.

Levi, who was slick with grime and exhaustion, had surveyed the field. Blood, not his own or his squad's, caked him from head to toe, its stench mingling with the metallic tang of sweat. Steam rose from his body. Using a vial from the Reiss Chapel, the squad had formulated an anti-titan serum. Injected into the nape, it neutralized the titan, allowing them to rescue the human within. Initially, reaching this vulnerable spot proved costly, but with new strategies and refined gear, they'd finally achieved this long-held goal. Titans were no more, and lives were saved. Standing amidst his team and the newly freed people, Levi had heard Erwin's clear voice: 

"No casualties. We won.”

The war was over; a distant yet horrifying memory. Tonight, the Survey Corps celebrated not just victory, but life. Laughter and cheers echoed through the mess hall, a cacophony of relief and camaraderie – the squad celebrated at said mess hall, a well-deserved celebration after years of blood and sacrifice. Among them, Levi Ackerman, humanity's strongest soldier, sat uncharacteristically slumped in his chair, slightly tipsy, flushed, a mischievous glint in his steely gray eyes and a mug of ale perpetually glued to his hand. He was several mugs of ale deep and several degrees looser.

"And then I sliced that damn Titan right between its ugly eyes – whoosh!" Levi declared, throwing his arm out dramatically. “S-So Hange could get in with the fuckin’ vial.”

Sat next to Levi was Erwin Smith, the ever-observant commander (who so happened to be Levi’s boyfriend). He watched Levi as his golden hair caught the flickering lamplight; he chuckled to himself. They were both a little tipsy, Levi more-so than Erwin.

"Careful there, Captain," Erwin teased. “You almost hit me with your arm.”

“Then move outta the way, dipshit.” Levi hissed.

"Okay, okay,” Erwin assured him, throwing his hands up. “Are you alright, at least? Your face is a bit flush.”

Levi glared, a playful glint in his steely gaze. "Peachy," he mumbled, puffing out his chest in a pathetic attempt to appear unaffected. Though his stomach gurgled unpleasantly. Levi slumped further back in his chair, his hand resting possessively on a belly that had become pleasantly round from the ale. It pushed uncomfortably against the fabric of his shirt. He had to burp, but he’d be damned if he let out a belch here in front of his men – even while tipsy.

Erwin's lips quirked up. "Perhaps a bit too peachy. You've had quite a bit to drink."

Levi scoffed. "Tch. I’m not drunk, just a little tipsy. I can handle my ale; unlike someone I know. It's a good thing you only had one mug, or you'd be on the damn floor."

Erwin feigned injury, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, Levi. Straight to the heart. Come on, let’s go lay down – I think you’ve had enough.”

Levi scowled, but resisted the temptation to retort. Instead, he watched as Erwin stood from his chair, his tall frame towering over the shorter male. He allowed himself to be helped to his feet. His legs wobbled slightly, and Erwin wrapped a strong arm around his waist, steadying him. Erwin could really see the damage that was done to Levi’s tummy. 

"Oi, Erwin," Levi slurred. "I can walk m-myself."

Erwin simply smirked. “Sure.”

The walk to their shared room was a slow, meandering affair. Levi, normally light on his feet, stumbled slightly with each step. His belly, pleasantly full from the ale, pressed uncomfortably against his clothes. He mumbled a string of incoherent complaints under his breath, punctuated by the occasional gurgle or churn from his distended belly. Levi didn’t get very far before he had to stop.

"Ugh, fuckin’ carry me already," he grumbled.

"Of course, Shortcake," Erwin teased. Erwin scooped Levi up with surprising ease, the soldier surprisingly light despite his earlier feast, and carried him towards their shared quarters. Levi sighed into Erwin’s shoulder. Once inside, he carefully deposited Levi on the bed, the room tilted precariously as Levi tried to focus on Erwin's face.

“There we go,” Erwin's voice was a low rumble, sending shivers down Levi’s spine. “Comfortable?”

Levi mumbled something unintelligible, his hand instinctively going to his stomach, the bloated feeling magnified now that he was lying down. He felt... uncomfortably full. His flat stomach strained against his shirt, a taut balloon threatening to burst. And suddenly, a burp, loud and ungentlemanly, escaped him. Levi flushed a deeper shade of red, mortified.

Erwin chuckled again. "Looks like you have some air trapped in there, hm? Let’s see if we can get it out.”

Before Levi could voice a scathing retort, Erwin unbuttoned Levi's shirt with practiced ease. Then, Erwin's warm hand settled on his abdomen, a gentle pressure applied in a circular motion. At first, Levi tensed, his face scrunching up in confusion. The touch was surprisingly soothing, easing the tightness a fraction, and Levi settled. The shorter male’s eyes flickered down, looking at his distended stomach in all of its glory. The captain instinctively bit back a belch, and Erwin noticed.

"Work with me, Levi," Erwin murmured, his voice a low purr against Levi's ear. He began to massage harder.

Under Erwin’s ministrations, a soft gurgle escaped Levi’s lips, followed by a long, resounding “BWWWURRP!” Relief washed over his face, yet he hissed as he lightly swatted at Erwin’s hand with no real bite. “Damn you, eyebrows. Stop it.”

Erwin's other hand came to cup his cheek, his thumb gently stroking Levi's flushed skin. "Hush, love. Let me help."

A traitorous moan escaped Levi as Erwin continued, his touch sending shivers down his spine. The gentle massage continued, punctuated by a steady stream of burps, each one bringing a sliver of relief. He hated to admit it, but the attention felt… good. And as the night wore on, the gentle massage turned into a sensual exploration. Erwin grazed his thumbs along Levi's taut stomach, sending delicious tingles through him. Levi, despite himself, couldn't help but let out a soft moan as another resounding “BUUUUURP!” escaped him.

“Feeling any better?” Erwin cooed, his breath hot, hitting Levi’s cheek.

"Maybe," Levi mumbled, his voice thick. "But you're a goddamn menace, Erwin."

Erwin's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "Perhaps. But you seem to be enjoying this, wouldn't you agree?"

The question hung in the air for a moment. "Maybe," Levi eventually repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "But don't think – Hic-urrrrpp! … don’t think this makes you less of a pain.” 

Erwin's smile widened. "Never," he said, and then his lips were on Levi's, the kiss a slow exploration, a promise of more to come.

The night that was going to follow would be a blur of soft touches and heated whispers. Erwin's touch lingered, his hand dipping lower, skimming the sensitive skin just above Levi's waistband. Levi gasped before he murmured, "When I…  UUURP! Mmmnnh… When I'm not so tipsy… you will literally die by my hands."

“Alright, love.”

[ladyaislinn]

31. Oktober 2024

Rufus Sewell reveals The Diplomat season 2 cliffhanger was 'redacted' in scripts

"There were bits that were blacked out until the read-through," Sewell tells "Entertainment Weekly

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Going into this season, were you aware that you weren't dead?  RUFUS SEWELL: Yeah, I was pulled aside and reassured. So I knew I'd be coming back.

Hal is such a fascinating character because on the one hand, I trust him. On the other, I don't at all. I'm curious of your perspective on the kind of guy he is. I find people's reaction reactions to him quite interesting. Sometimes quite amusing, sometimes really exhausting. But that's the thing. It's the same way with humans. We make judgements about people. Often people will describe Hal as jealous or self-centered or controlling; I don't think he's any of those things. I think he's quite self-centered sometimes, but I think he is a massive fan of Kate and he really believes in her and he will do anything to put her forward. He has his own personal ambition, but everything he does when he's sneaky and manipulative, it's actually for the greater good of her and also himself.

He believes that she is capable of being vice president, even president, that she has greatness and that she needs to be maneuvered to get out of her own way to do that. Now, if the door that had opened was one that would present an opportunity for him to be vice president, then that's what they would be doing. But the play is for her to be vice president. And that means he falls into a role that maybe isn't perfectly suited for him... The problem with Hal is he thinks he's well suited to be able to play the role that she played for him, which is backup, but he's not the right shape for it. He's not naturally built to play backup without stepping on the lead singer's toes. And he really does try, bless him. But he does truly believe in her, and they're complex human beings. I think he's great.

I do think their relationship is rooted in love. Absolutely. 

It's maybe not rooted in trust.  Well, it's rooted in even the lack of trust as a trust. They trust each other for him to be as untrustworthy as he is in the ways that they both understand, you know what I mean? She says, I don't trust you, but it's not because she thinks that he'll betray her, but he can't be trusted not to be Hal. He can't be trusted not to be who he is and who he is has the potential of greatness. But there's a certain kind of a dashing quality to what he's capable of doing, which when it goes wrong, has more casualties than someone who is a little more timid. And that's what he can't be trusted not to do. 

It's like when he insists on talking to the president and then gives the man a heart attack.  Well, who would guess? That would've been the right play had that not happened. He very nearly saved the day. And you'll find that, occasionally, he does, too. 

That's what makes this show so fun to watch, is everyone is so interesting, and at any given moment, they could make a decision that has massive consequences. I've said in the past that I didn't want to be playing bad guys. What I really should have said was I wanted to be doing good writing. Meaning in good drama, just like in politics, everyone's a bit of everything. They might lean one way or another, but all people have their good and bad side. And what I love about Kate and Hal is that they are incredible fun. They are liked, they're funny, but in a certain way they're both killers. And I think that is what is essential to be in this world as they are. They have to be able to know when it is a time to kill. That's what's really fascinating about these characters, because they both actually have it. 

Even with Grace Penn, there's that moment where you think she's the bad guy, and then you hear her explanation for the decisions she made and you realize it isn't so simple. I know, I know. Even people who do things that you might think are bad or good, they all have really strong justifications, and if you get them to talk about it, you can see it from their perspective. It's just so well constructed. And that's just the way that [showrunner] Deb [Cahn] writes. She just makes sure that everyone comes from a position that they can fight for. 

Do you get all the scripts before you start shooting, or are you reading about the president's death as you're shooting? We're often a couple of episodes ahead, but some of the big plot twists, like that one, we knew about a couple of episodes or one episode ahead. I mean me and Keri, but the rest of the cast didn't because they were reading redacted scripts. There were bits that were blacked out until the read-through, which was fun because you really got to see the reaction on an audience, the audience being the cast, in real time. And when the page was turned and it got to that bit, you could see the realization explode across the room, most vocally with Ato [Essandoh], who's always fun to do a reading with.

That's kind of the best of both worlds. You know what you need to know, but you still get that experience. Exactly. You still get to enjoy it as a lover of the show the first time you read it. And the great thing of this is, I'm really looking forward to the script. It's not always the case when you're doing a long-running show. Sometimes there's a bit of anxiety about whether the writing is going to be consistent. I don't worry so much about whether my character is going to be killed off. My great fear has always been that my character would be kept alive with bad dialogue.

Speaking of the dialogue, I don't think people talk enough about how funny this show is. When I read it, to me it was a comedy. I always get a little bit of a jolt when it's described as a drama, because when I read it, I thought, "Oh, this is funny." I loved the rapport between Kate and Hal. It was incredibly witty, kind of screwball, but also not in that over-stylized way where you can tell the writers are high-fiving about having nailed a genre. That's what I instinctively reacted to when I read it. Our favorite bits are always the stupid, but also very true, fights and the bickering and eating on the bed and bickering about this and that, just the things that, to me, make it funny — but more than that, make it absolutely, recognizably real. 

[merajsblog]

gojo satoru.

free time.

it was hard to find a schedule that worked with both you and gojos busy life. you were both jujutsu students, working their hardest. everyone took getos leave harshly, but gojos reaction was the worst. it was understandable what had happened was harsh. there was no light way of putting it. afterwards, his time was spent trying to become the best he could be. he wanted to be the best. you found it hard to say anything. you knew exactly why he was doing it and how important it was to him. if his focus was on becoming the strongest and being the one who protects everyone, then so be it. but tonight you wanted something different. there was a meteor shower you had heard of from shoko. it was a perfect getaway for a night.

knocking on his dorm door at around 10 pm, you were wearing comfortable but thick clothing. you hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him what your thoughts on what tonight should be. the door slowly creeped open. you saw gojo standing there. he had a tired look on his face, red bagging under his eyes. he hasn’t been sleeping. his eyebrows were furrowed, almost like he had a permanent forlorn look. he was wearing his pajamas, a simple shirt and sweatpants. his hair was slightly damp. “hi satoru.” you said softly but sweetly. he cracked a small smile with the corner of his mouth. “y/n” he said softly. “i know you’re probably tired and it’s been a long day but shoko told me about this thing happening tonight and i really wanted to-“

“she already told me what she told you. i knew immediately you’d want to go.” he said cocking his head to one side. “i showered and everything just for you.” he said sarcastically. you rolled your eyes. “how sweet of you, but i reallllyy would of rathered you all sweaty and…nasty..” you said trailing off. he let out a small laugh. “let me get a jacket and we can go.” he said turning around. his room was a mess. there were bottles everywhere and his bed hadn’t been made in what looked like years. you knew first hand that he was putting off cleaning anything, and he was just keeping busy with practice and missions. you ignored it. now was not the time to be telling him what he already knew. grabbing a stale hoodie from the closet (it was stale because he hadn’t touched many jackets since it was summer), he quickly put it on and grabbed his sun glasses. he gave me a quick kiss on the forehead as he quickly walked out the door. i shut the door behind him and we headed towards the field. it was quiet and fairly chilly for a summer night. the hum of the electricity through the wires killed any silence between us. it was rather relaxing to enjoy the silence. it was a break from the world but by being with someone else.

“how was your mission today?” you asked. he sighed quietly. “it was fine, no casualties so it was actually the best outcome. these cursed spirits really be popping up a lot more at the end of summer.” he said, annoyance clear in his voice. “good work satoru.” you said beaming at him. you wanted him to feel better so desperately but you weren’t sure how. this slump or high or whatever he was on was not helping him at all. he was deteriorating, and maybe he was the only one who didn’t see it. or maybe he did see it but paid it no mind, and saw it as a kind of karma. you refused to let that go unchecked. “how was your day today? did you end up sparring with nanami as you wanted?” he questioned. “it went fine! much better than i thought actually..i really needed some more practice with hand to hand combat. nanami kept me on my toes.” you said running a finger over all the scars on your hands and palms from scraping with the fellow jujutsu students. “who won?” he asked raising an eyebrow with the corner of his mouth lifting. “i did.” you said sticking out a tounge, much like you’ve seen him do. he let out a laugh. a loud laugh. one that you havnt heard in a while. you smiled immediately. he grabbed your hand, walking onwards. “i will never let nanami live this down.” he said chuckling. then he turned to you, the blue haze in his eyes clearly showing. “i am proud of you thought, keep it up. i want you and i to spar some time too.” he said, seriously. he wanted everyone on par with him, as if that was even possible. you let out an anxious laugh. “only if you promise to go a little easy on me.” you said avoiding eye contact. you just didn’t want him to see you as weak or anything. “give yourself more credit, you’re a good opponent. you’d give anyone a run for their money if you let yourself.” he said calmly. you almost rolled your eyes at him. this was exactly what he needed to be hearing, especially the part about “giving yourself credit”. instead, you said “okay, okay satoru. we can try sparring but don’t come crying if i whoop your ass.” you said trying to lighten the mood. he chuckled as he kissed your knuckle. “i’m so scared.”

by the time you had reached the field, it was going to be time for the meteor shower to start. you were beyond excited. you loved spending time under the stars, away from the lights and people. there was something so intimate about just being under a shared sky and stars. satoru layed on his back, hands behind his head. his legs were crossed over each other. the sunglasses he wore were slightly lower on his nose, as if he was trying to see over the rim. you laid down besides him, with a few inches of space between. you weren’t sure if his infinity was on, and you didn’t want to humble yourself to find out. usually satoru initiated all contact. he was the one who could turn off his infinity and you knew that as soon as he had turned it off, he was vulnerable. last time he did that, amanai died. geto left. he was alone. he learned better, but you weren’t sure if that was really for the better. you turned towards him. you were slowly watching his features when he suddenly started talking.

“you know, i know i’m handsome and everything but why are you staring so intently.” he said, staring straight ahead at the sky. you let out a little laugh. “i’m just admiring the view, you know.” he smiled and turned his head a little. your eyebrows furrowed. your hand hesitated.

“what’s wrong?” he said, snapping you out of your daze. satoru had good intuition, and he could read your face easily. he turned towards you slowly, laying with his head on one arm.

“can i touch you?” you asked quietly. you were worried he wouldn’t of heard you or something, maybe your words got blown away in the wind. he had an incredulous look on his face, almost like he was offended. “i’m sorry i don’t want it to be awkward or weird it’s just i know you’ve been perfecting your infinity and using it at all times and i wasn’t sure..” you said trailing off slowly.

“my infinity is always off when i’m around you.” he said sternly. “especially when we’re actually at jujutsu tech. outside, usually we’d be on missions together or something so it’s on then, but not in the moments like this.” he said narrowing his eyebrows. you weren’t sure why he was so offended, it seemed like a good question to ask? “i’m sorry..” you murmured, “i wasn’t sure.” he sighed. “now i know why you don’t ever try to touch me unless i start first.” he said rolling his eyes before turning onto his back again. immediately, you got up on one arm and held his face with the other hand, turning his head slightly towards yours. you kissed him, softly but passionately. there were so many unspoken words in that moment. he was taken aback. he hasn’t been used to outbursts like this, or you being so physical. he didn’t mind, he was just hurt that you thought he didn’t trust you. your eyes desperately followed his facial features after kissing him like that. you saw him smile slowly. you turned back into your back, your arm snaking around his arm as you snuggled closer to him. he put his hand on your leg, and rested his head against the top of your head. the warmth radiating off him was like no other. the stars looked beautiful. the wind was blowing through his hair, making his soft white hair look like a cloud billowing in the breeze.

you two spent time pointing at some stars, and while you pointed out actual constellations, he would make up his own and name them “gojo pt. 1 and gojo pt. 2”. it made you laugh. you two hadn’t spent much time together where you weren’t under pressure. snickering and laughing could be heard in every corner of the field. finally, the meteor shower arrived. it was flashes of light dazzling through the sky, going in the same direction. some were closer together and others had more time apart. everytime one would happen, you would both shoot up to your sitting position, heads craned at the sky. even though gojo was supposedly the strongest and a prodigy, he was a child. a teenager who loved drinking cola and beach days and video games. he too loved the stars. after two hours, you noticed how cold the tip of your nose was, and how your finger tips were starting to try to hide in the sleeves of your sweater to get away from the cold. his nose has turned a sharp color of red, making you call him “rudolph”. the tips of his ears were red too.

there was a quiet moment between you two. when you both shot up to your arms and were looking at the sky, swearing you just saw one while the other said “no way.” you turned to him, “i’m telling you it was there!!” you said pouting. he rolled his eyes for the millionth time. “i would’ve seen it, we’re literally sitting right next to each other.” he stated. you both had maybe two or three inches of space between you. you could feel his hot breathe on your upper lip. the puffs of hot air escaping your mouths appeared infront of each other. his eyes were a dazzling blue up close. his hair was puffy and sticking out everywhere from the wind and the ground. he was the one who kissed you this time. it was long and sweet. it felt like it paused time. by the time you opened your eyes, it felt like another lifetime. you put your forehead to his, both of your closing your eyes.

“did you want to head to bed now?” he murmured. you nodded silently. you kissed his nose before getting up and stretching. he was being a baby and begging you to help him up, as if he was an old man. you walked away while he was still laying there pouting. then, he teleported in front of you. it stopped you dead in your tracks. he was still pouting, the corner of his mouth tilting down. he was also looking down at you. “why did you leave me there.” he said. you smiled sweetly and leaned forward. “because i knew you would come anyways.” you said, pecking him on the lips. then you grabbed his hand and started waking towards the dorms. he was still rolling his eyes, and you were fake lecturing him, saying how his eyes would roll to the back of his head permanently. he ushered you into your room, where he was planning on spending the night. he immediately crawled into your bed, taking up the entire thing. he patted his chest and grinned at you. now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

the night was gentle with you both.

[lostinwildflowers]

Promenade

Erwin Smith x Reader

Summary: A war of dance is upon you, and somehow your partner is your rival. What will happen when it is time for the ultimate dance?

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Rivals to lovers, angst, maybe some harsh language, lots of dance verbiage, some moments of ✨passion✨

For reference:

-The Tango for this fic: "Libertango"

A/N: Hi guys!! There was so much love for "The Dance", that I decided to continue! This is also set in the same AU as "Quickstep"! Please enjoy my loves❤️-Birch<3

Part 1 - "The Dance"

Part 3 - "The Olympic Games"

Black-heeled dance shoes glide across the gymnasium floor, smooth like skating on ice. Red strappy heels were in rhythm to the music, spinning on the flat-bottomed toe with a feisty elegance.

Sharp, steely blue eyes locked with a pair of (colored) ones, a constant fight to see whose spirit would break first. It was a question in the firm touch on the waist from a rough and practiced hand, to the lofted grip of nails biting into his shirt.

It was war.

Who would break first? Who would lose their cool? Who would be the one to break the illusion of romance?

The blonde you were interlocked with would not stand down. He was a warrior in his own right. One that was trained from the moment he could walk. Taught to be a strong, demanding, powerful leader that always demanded the best.

You, a lady throughout the ages. One who was lectured on independence, knowledge, and the way to listen when told. Yet you learned on your own too, fighting your own battles, learning to throw your own punches. Leading a life so as to never have a dampened fire to the burning spirit in your soul.

Thus, the music of "La Cumparsita" floating in the air was the sound of swords clashing together to you. It was the creak and hiss of bows drawing their arrows back before letting them fly at their opponent.

But your opponent was not backing down.

Erwin Smith was still as unwavering as ever, a strong wall made of hard stone standing in front of you, taking each casualty in stride. He was simply waiting for your own defense to shatter and fall apart in front of him.

He was waiting for the opportunity to strike so he could claim the win.

The two of you were locked into a physical and mental battle, your feet never once touching, and the fierce eye contact never breaking. You were determined to not give in, and so was he.

"This is all wrong!" a voice cuts through the music, making your focus shatter like a rock thrown at a piece of stained glass. Your defense is instantly down, and then the gym goes silent.

Your feet stop moving, as do Erwin's. The battlefield is at a stalemate as the instructor walks over to the two of you, clipboard in hand.

Your gaze glosses over as John, the instructor, stops beside you two, standing with his hands on his hips. There was a look of disapproval written all over his features, glaring at the two of you.

What you seem to miss, is that when you break eye contact with Erwin to look at John, his eyes never leave the curve of your cheek.

His hold on you never changes, but his blue eyes slowly and methodically flit around the features of your face. They note the way your jaw was just barely clenched in frustration at the lull in practice.

He sees the whisps of hair that were slowly falling out of place from the sides of your black headband. He could see the small scar on your cheek from where your cat had scratched you as a child.

Erwin even allowed himself to look at the grimace on your lips. The way your eyelashes batted a few times in confusion, trying to process the mistake you had made.

In what was barely a second, Erwin had taken in every detail of you without scrutiny. And though he would never say it out loud, you were much more beautiful up close than in any competition the two of you had been pitted against each other in.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to Erwin's gaze, as you were still trying to figure out what had gone wrong with the set. We were on time, the steps were right, and we even managed to place that fan just correctly, you thought to yourself.

"This is all wrong," John repeats once he's next to you. He whips his head to look at Erwin, points a finger at him, and grumbles, "You look like you would sacrifice her to the wolves if you could!"

You flick your eyes to Erwin, where you could see his eyes tear away from your own in the briefest moment. Then you see the look on his face change as he processes John's words. Oh, he so would if he could, you think.

Yet you're taken aback when John swivels and glares at you, pointing a finger in your face. He shakes his head from side to side and yells, "And you look like you hate him!" Not far off.

John takes a step back, jerking his hands, and continues, "This is tango! This is the dance of passion, not murder! You two need to look like you're in love and can't hold yourself back. If you don't, you will never win at the qualifier."

Never win. Those words ringing in your head made your stomach drop. Never win? Just because of Erwin? I don't think so.

That was all you needed to hear. You have wanted to qualify for the Olympics your whole life. You had been preparing for this qualifier your entire life. It wasn't your fault that Hayden didn't work out as a partner.

And now? You had one of the best tango dancers in the world holding onto you. While Erwin was a heartless, controlling jerk, you needed this to work- even if that meant pushing aside your rivalry.

You give John a quiet "yes sir" in affirmation, with Erwin doing similarly. As John walks back over to the sound system, Erwin releases you to walk back to the beginning of the set.

"No," John calls after Erwin, "La Cumparsita is not going to work for you two. You need something with more... passion."

---

8 minutes, 43 seconds. That's how long you had before your Olympic qualifier. 7 minutes, 5 seconds. That's how long you had before you would be dancing in the most important competition of your life with your rival.

You weren't sure how your dance routine would come together in competition. You had only started it after John reassigned your song choice. People usually spend weeks perfecting every single move in a routine, but you had merely days.

Deep down, you knew there was only one way this could end well, and it would be if you could trust Erwin. Trust in his steps, trust the guide in his hand and his body.

But he was so unpredictably predictable. You never knew what he was thinking or planning, and that was something you could count on- that he would change the plan in the middle of it to suit his wants.

So, there were really only two things you had to do out there. Follow, and perform.

It was that simple, yet it seemed like a nightmare. Before your partner had bailed on you, all you could think of was this day. Dancing in your qualifier, confident as ever, dressed to the nines.

Now, you were watching the pairs before you go with a pit in your stomach. Your competitors were good. Too good for you to make a foolish mistake.

The unsettled feeling in your stomach only seemed to worsen when Erwin appeared by your side, groomed to perfection.

His blonde locks were gelled back to keep the hair out of his eyes, reinforcing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his square jaw. A crisp white button-down that was tailored to his every need rested on his torso, a simple black vest over top of it.

He wore a matching set of black slacks and his shiny black ballroom shoes. And, because he was Erwin, he had a red bowtie that matched just flawlessly to the sparkly red dress you wore.

On the other hand, your hair was kept in an elegant fashion, with just a few curls hanging loose around your face, and a small red clip behind your left ear to accentuate your pair of diamond earrings.

You also were wearing a matching gold necklace that you had been saving for this day, a small red gem hanging as the pendant over your heart.

Your red dress was gorgeous. It was everything you had ever dreamed it of being; a high-low styled cut, with the front ending just at your knee while the back trailed down to your ankles.

It wasn't just red though, it was glimmering. From top to bottom, you were glowing in the dark lights of the wings to the ballroom floor.

In addition to your dress and hair, you wore your red strappy ballroom heels to go with your outfit. Your makeup was simple with just some shiny gold shadow on your lids, accompanied by some dark mascara and a bold red lip.

Erwin coughed lightly, clearing his throat softly to get your attention. Your (colored) eyes glance up toward him, where you find his steely gaze already looking at you.

A sudden wave of butterflies washes over you, and you suddenly feel lightheaded with the pounding of your heart in your chest. He looked... better than you expected.

Not that you thought he would look bad, of course. You knew Erwin was considered handsome, especially in the ballroom world. You couldn't find anyone more put together than him.

The sound of the crowd cheering distracts you from your thoughts for a moment, (colored) orbs flashing out to look at the dance floor. In your moment of distraction, Erwin's eyes look you up and down, taking in your elegant and distinguished appearance.

He takes a deep breath and then murmurs, "You look nice." Your head snaps to the left to look at him, hardly comprehending what he said. Me? Is he talking to me?

The two of you are interrupted as the pair of competitors comes walking off of the floor between Erwin and you. You take a step back and apologize, the couple splitting the distance and sliding through the narrow gap.

Your gaze trails after them, the thoughts of the conversation just a second ago slipping your mind. Just as you start to remember what he said, he beats you to it.

"Y/n," he starts, his eyes very serious, "Can you allow yourself to trust me out there on the floor? This is the only way for us to score well."

Your body freezes up in surprise for a moment, your painted-red lips hanging open. You think better of it and shut your mouth, giving him a gentle nod.

"Not like I have much of a choice now, do I?" you half-heartedly laugh, your nerves coming slightly undone. Your hands involuntarily wring together, trying to put your worries at ease.

Erwin takes a step toward you, covering the distance that had been made by the dancers. He looks down at you with a different expression in his eye, one that seemed kinder. Softer.

"There is always a choice. It just depends on if it's the right one or not," he murmurs, his hand coming up under your chin to force your eyes to look up at him.

When you look into what seems to be the ice plains of his eyes, you see no lie. No deception. Just what he believes is the honest truth.

You swallow thickly and mumble, "I can do it. Just give me the chance to be the star, alright? I need to qualify. I need the attention on me."

Erwin gives you a small nod, releasing you from his grasp. His gaze turns to the floor, where the next performers are in the middle of their song.

"You will be the star, I'll make sure of it."

---

Tap, tap.... click, tap, tap, click.

Blinding white lights flood the ballroom floor, the rays bouncing off of the dark mahogany-colored wood. The dark pine in comparison to your dress and accents made you stand out like a glistening ruby.

Your heart started pounding harder and harder when you caught sight of the judges in their stands. It skipped a beat when you could see your instructors and teammates in the crowds, nerves written on their own faces.

The only thing that was grounding you was what was held in your hand, which was Erwin's rough one, leading you out into the middle of the dance floor.

You couldn't stop the feeling of being overwhelmed by the lights, the cameras flashing, and the sharp and intense looks from the judges. It was too much.

"Hey, eyes on me," the deep voice comes from next to you. Erwin whisks you to face him, the crowd settling down as the ballroom lights dim, leaving a spotlight on you and him.

You do as he says, your eyes flickering up to meet his steady and calm gaze, giving you the chance to still the slight shake in your knees, and warm your cool fingertips up.

Erwin offers you the invite to dance with his free hand, and you accept as if it were second nature, setting up into your standard ballroom dance frame for tango.

You were close to him, that's how this was meant to go. But it made your heart pound in your chest harder than you liked, and it made your throat dry up with the want to drink water.

Yet when you looked up into Erwin's blue eyes, it was like the very blue of his eyes were cool fresh water puddles that quenched your thirst. Every moment waiting for the music to start went from feeling like a year to just a second.

Then what seemed like forever to set up, started. The music began, and Erwin immediately guided you into a rock step. You find the familiar feeling as quick as you can, letting your nerves float away and focus on the dance.

The pair of you do a few sets of rock steps, making a few turns to introduce the chemistry between you two as you are guided to the rhythm of slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.

After a moment of adjusting to the music and the feel, you feel yourself take a small breath, relaxing as Erwin pushes you into an open fan. It was a small moment, but you allow yourself a moment to shine.

Your arm guides your fingertips to point gracefully in the air above your head, which you accompany by a quick and snappy kick to the sky, showing a moment of sass and independence from your dance partner.

That leads to Erwin pulling you into a tight carousel circle. You end up spinning elegantly on one foot, allowing him to take long, ground-covering steps around you in a tight circle, with all of the attention on you.

At that moment, you find his sharp eyes again, leaning into his embrace enough to give the facade of passionate lovers. Erwin plays into this too, and after finishing the carousel, he leans you back into a small dip.

But in practiced fashion, a double kick from your legs pulls you out of his arms, leaving the two of you separate. Erwin falls into place behind you as you soulfully and gracefully tango-walk away from him, barely glancing over your shoulder to acknowledge him and build tension.

When you turn on your heel in time with the music to face him, you see Erwin reaching out after you, and then you snap back around to face the judges, your back turned to him. You strike a sultry pose while you let him start his small solo, trying to catch your breath.

Behind you, Erwin is perfectly executing his moves, gliding across the floor with a flawless rhythm to the music. His feet landed just in time, nailing the end of his solo before the two of you reunite.

While you hold your pose in anticipation for him to return to you, you take a breath.

You can do this. Here he comes.

Before you know it, Erwin is behind you, his large left hand resting on the point of your waist while his right one wraps around in front of you. His right hand grabs a hold of your left one, his arm crossing in front of your body in a close backward embrace.

And in time with the swell of the music, Erwin whips you around to face him, your head looking to your right, his looking to his left. You were facing the same direction, gliding your feet into the classic and dramatic tango walk.

Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow... Those were the counts in your head as you walked hand-to-shoulder with Erwin.

You could feel the tension building as he guided you in a straight line toward the judges, and then- panic sets in. These steps, these aren't the ones we practiced for this routine. These aren't even the steps for the other routine. These were... freestyle steps.

Suddenly, Erwin's words made so much more sense. This is the only way for us to score well. And so, you put your trust in him. You become hyperaware of how he signaled you with his hands, his body, and his feet.

And from the walk toward the judges, he pushes you into a rapid series of promenades. Your head flashes from left to right as you change direction every two steps maintaining the rhythm of quicks and slows. Your mind was reeling at his decisions, but you did your best to keep up.

Erwin had something planned, you knew it. Yet you follow his every step, and as the music was building to the last high, he pushes you into a set of rock steps in a box in front of the judges, leading up to something.

Then, you feel his grip on you tighten, and not knowing what his plan was, your grip on him tightens as well. You lock eyes with him, the tension high and the dance almost complete.

As the song hits its final chord, Erwin drops you into a deep dip right in front of the judges. The spotlight was dancing over you, and everything seemed to happen so fast.

Your right foot shoots into the air, your heel elegantly held high above his back, your head dangling precariously toward the floor. Erwin is bent over, holding you flat against his chest.

The beams from the spotlight dazzle you for a second before you realize your situation. You're close to him. Wow, he's close. Before you know it, his lips are mere millimeters from your own and your eyes snap to his, wide and pupils dilated.

All you can hear is the crowd. Cheering, clapping, hooting, and hollering. Whistles, bangs, and yells.

Yet that doesn't seem to matter, because Erwin is looking at you. Not like an enemy. Not like a rival. He's looking at you, more like...

Well, you didn't know. You couldn't pinpoint why he was looking at you like that. Like you were a package too delicate to be held by his hands.

He looked so deeply into your eyes, the crowd was drowned out. It was you and him in the spotlight. His eyes flick downwards for a split second, and you realize in an instant what he was thinking.

Just as you start to lean up and into him, he pulls you up and out of the dip. The crowd's cheers intensify, and he gives a blinding smile to them.

Your mind is absolutely reeling from his actions. The way he looked at you, the way he went off of the set routine. What on earth was he thinking?

You snap out of it when he squeezes your hand signaling for you to do the same as him and you get the memo. You smile at the crowd with as much grace as you can muster, before turning and bowing to the judges.

He then leads you off of the dance floor quietly, the next pair of dancers passing you on the way out. You didn't even realize that you were holding your breath, but the second you are behind the curtains, he releases you and continues to walk away.

You feel his hand pull away from your own and a pang of hurt washes over you as he disappears from sight. What was his problem? You did everything he asked. You followed his lead and acted like you liked him. All for your qualifier. And now he's acting like this?

He might have made you the star of the show out there on the dance floor, but at that moment, he was putting your burning flame right out for no reason.

---

You were standing side by side with the tall blonde, several other dance partnerships standing on either side of you, waiting for the results.

You couldn't make eye contact with Erwin, and he couldn't make eye contact with you. Neither of you could spare the other a glance, the tension high this time, but for all of the wrong reasons.

He hadn't said one word to you after stepping off of the floor, and the... well, moment, that happened at the end of your routine.

It felt like frost was coating your veins, slowly chilling you and your emotions. You didn't want to admit it, but it stung. It hurt the way he had gone from looking at you like you hung the moon and stars to completely disregarding your presence.

Suddenly, you felt foolish. Why would you ever think he would look at you like that for real? He's just here because you were the best statistic. He doesn't want you, he hates you. You're his rival. He's here because he wants to compete at the Olympics.

You had to talk yourself through his reasonings, drowning out the voice of the announcer introducing the finalists in your class. Maybe it's okay if I don't qualify this year. I mean, I could always find a partner that I actually have chemistry with.

But there was a part of you that disagreed with that thought. Your mind instantly flicked back through every touch and look from your routine.

The way his hands held you ever so close to his chest, or the look in his eye that screamed, "You're the only one I want." It made you dizzy thinking about it because you knew that he would never actually want you like that.

Your attention slowly comes back as they start up the placings into 10th place. From the edge of your vision, you can see John and the rest of your team nervously waiting for the results.

You only needed to make the top 3 placings to get enough points to qualify, and a part of you was nervous that you wouldn't make it. The other part? Kind of wished you didn't have to deal with Erwin.

"However we place," he mumbles just barely over the voice of the announcer and cheers, "Just know that you did well out there. I thought you were going to lose your cool."

Your (colored) eyes snap up toward him in a disgusted frown, "So now you're going to talk to me? You are absolutely unbelievable, Erwin Smith."

He just blinks calmly at you, stoic as ever. He shifts to face you slightly, and briefly glances around to make sure no one's attention was on you.

"You had no idea what I was going to do out there. You followed just as you were supposed to, just as I planned. You did exactly what we needed to do to get you qualified. If you have an issue with that-"

"And that leaves us to our top 5 placings!" came the announcer's voice. You briefly look away from Erwin before you whisper harshly, "It's not that, okay?"

A look of confusion tugs on his brows, and his lips part in a silent question of, what? You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "I'm not having this conversation right now."

"What's wrong with this conversation?" he asks, leaning in closer to you. From everyone else's perspective, it just looked like he was saying encouraging words. To you, it was torture.

You roll your eyes and start, "This is probably the first conversation we've ever had and all you can think of is yourself. You know, I was actually thinking differently about you, Erwin, but you proved me right after we got off the floor."

A flash of anger runs through his eyes, and his features harden at your words. His lip curls into a half-snarl before he whispers, "You wouldn't be here without me. I'd pick your battles carefully."

"And in second place, lead Erwith Smith and his follow, Y/n L/n, with a fantastic and passionate set for the Survey Corps," the announcer boomed.

You glare up at Erwin and growl, "And you wouldn't be going to the Olympics." At that, you turn away from him and smile into the crowd and at the judges, walking up to receive your medal and awards.

As you strutted away from him, you could feel that the day you dreamed of was poisoned. You were supposed to be happy, cheering, and smiling right now, hand in hand with your partner.

But instead, you felt your heart crawling deeper and deeper into its cage, lying in wait for the true battle with Erwin Smith.

Tag list: @xxdragonwriterxx @tejxswini @mysterystarz @mortedeveles @vs-redemption @kal0psi-a @gin-no-g @starstruckkittensweets @kitacharm @sukosie @shirari @animated-moon @mitzwinchester @elitparadox @yumeyooa @angels-main @anlian-aishang @nathalunalune @bluebellhairpin

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

The Whistle of a Bomb

AO3 LINK

Though the fighting is miles away, the echo of gunfire and artillery echoes from the battlefield. Despite this, there haven't been any incoming casualties yet. Everyone is on edge, waiting for the moment the helicopters crest the hills. Hawkeye is trying to keep himself busy to combat the anxious energy under his skin.

"Radar, did that shipment of penicillin ever come in?"

"Yes sir. So did the bandages, O-positive blood, and syringes."

"Good. Any chance my discharge papers came with them?"

"No such luck, sir."

"How about some proper alcohol?"

"Unless you mean isopropyl alcohol, then no," Radar says, stuttering over the word 'isopropyl'. 

Hawkeye hums under his breath. Noticing that Radar is practically jogging to keep up with him, he slows his hurried walking to a casual stroll. Usually he would make some clever joke about Radar's height. But right now, he's too distracted to come up with anything. He sees others heading towards the OR. BJ is exiting the mess hall, smiling when he sees Hawkeye. He speeds up to meet them.

"Any coffee left in the mess?"

"Yeah, but you don't want it. I'm pretty sure I saw something swimming in it."

"Wouldn't be the worst coffee I've ever had here."

BJ grimaces, but huffs out a laugh. 

"I'm going to go change before we're stuck in surgery for an eternity. Want anything from the Swamp?"

"Nah. But check and see if that fake snake I put in Frank's bed is still there. I want to reuse it later."

BJ gives a mock salute before strutting off. Hawkeye turns his attention back to Radar. He's scribbling stuff down on his clipboard, mumbling under his breath. He almost walks into a fence post, but Hawkeye grabs the neck of his shirt and pulls him out of the way. Radar doesn't seem to notice, too busy with his lists and numbers. From what little Hawkeye can read, it's a mess of supply forms and the like.

"Sign this, sir."

Radar hands Hawkeye the clipboard and the pen. He doesn't even look at what he's signing. For all he knows, he could be signing away his soul. But if Radar is handing him a form, it's for a good reason. The kid runs this camp. Hawkeye is in no position to doubt him. 

"You should invest in some colorful pens. Brighten up the paperwork."

"Ever since you signed those forms in crayon we're not allowed to use anything but army regulation pens."

"Army regulation pens? Do they write in red white and blue?"

"No, just black."

Radar's head whips up before Hawkeye can make another comment. Hawkeye immediately goes on alert, knowing that something is coming.

"Helicopters?"

"No. It's different, I don't-"

A whistling sound cuts through the air. 

The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion. The bomb lands in the dirt. There's a second of silence. There's no time to run, no time to yell. Hawkeye doesn't think. He throws himself over Radar, covering the boy with his body. The force of the explosion hits him before the sound does. He feels the rush of dirt, the way shrapnel hits his back. The force knocks him to the ground. There's yelling in the distance. Everything is garbled, like he's underwater. His vision is swimming.

BJ comes running when he hears the explosion. The first thing he sees is the massive dent in the ground from the explosion. The second thing he sees is a familiar form curled around Radar. He runs even faster. He drops to his knees, shaking hands frantically grabbing at Hawkeye. There are several bleeding wounds in his back, some pieces of shrapnel still sticking out from his skin. Radar is underneath him, blood pooling underneath his head. He's unconscious, but breathing. 

"Hawkeye! Hawk-"

Hawkeye blearily blinks. His eyes are hazy. He tries to lift himself, but lets out a broken cry and falls back onto Radar.

"Try not to move. You're going to be okay, I'm right here. Get me a stretcher! Now!"

"Radar- check on Radar-"

"I can't check on him until I move you. We're going to get you inside. Can you wiggle your fingers for me? And your toes?"

BJ lets out a sigh of relief when Hawkeye does so without issue. The wounds are deep, but nothing hit his spine. Thank God for small miracles.  Blood has completely stained the back of Hawkeye's shirt. It's sticking to his skin. Red stains the dirt below them, the puddle quickly growing. Someone comes over with a stretcher. BJ takes the lead, ordering people to get ready to lift.

"On three! One, two, three."

The scream Hawkeye lets out when they move him will haunt BJ for the rest of his days. Charles is already looking at Radar, so he follows Hawkeye into the OR. No one argues with him when he says he's doing the surgery. Margaret takes her place as his right hand man. BJ forces himself to push any emotion away. He won't be able to operate if he allows the terror to swallow him. 

The surgery feels like it takes eons. There's so much shrapnel in his back. Luckily none of them did any serious damage. Hawkeye will have some new scars and a trip to Tokyo, but he'll heal just fine. But BJ knows he won't feel properly okay until he sees Hawkeye awake again. He wants to sit in post-op with him, but there are wounded coming in. He has a job to do. Still, he orders the post-op nurse to bring him updates every hour.

Luckily, Radar escaped mostly unscathed. Besides a few minor cuts and bruises and a nasty concussion, he's alright. Hawkeye had taken the brunt of the explosion. Apparently Radar is sitting vigil next to Hawkeye's bed. It gives BJ some comfort to know that Hawkeye isn't alone. 

By the time they get through the last wounded soldier, it's been hours. BJ is exhausted. But instead of resting, he goes straight to post-op to check on Hawkeye and Radar. The boy is still sitting by Hawkeye's bed. He's asleep, head resting on the side of the bed. BJ pulls up a chair. Hawkeye still hasn't woken up. It's unsettling to see him so still, so quiet. He hates it. 

"You should get some sleep too."

Margaret runs a hand through Radar's hair, an unusually gentle gesture for her. But then again, everyone has a soft spot for Radar.

"I need to know. Was that bomb ours?"

"What difference does it make?"

"If it was ours, I can hunt down the person who did this. We're a hospital, for God's sake! And Radar and Hawkeye- It could've killed them."

"It didn't."

"It almost did. This war, it keeps hurting innocent people. How many more people have to die before they realize no cause is worth this?"

Margaret doesn't answer. Nothing she can say will answer his question. Instead, she pulls up a chair to sit next to BJ. They sit in silence. BJ's not sure how long they wait. He thinks he may doze off for a bit, but he's not sure. At some point Margaret forces Radar to go and get some food. When he comes back, he brings his bear. He tucks it in next to Hawkeye. The soft gesture almost makes BJ cry. 

It's early the next morning when Hawkeye wakes up. His eyes search the room, slowly adjusting to the light. BJ sees the moment true consciousness returns to him, because Hawkeye's eyes go wide and fill with fear.

"Radar, is Radar okay?"

"I'm okay, sir. Thanks to you."

Hawkeye calms down when he sees Radar. His eyes drift over the various bruises and bandages, but once he's sure Radar is truly unhurt, he turns his attention to BJ.

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing that won't heal. You've won a trip to Tokyo for at least a week."

Hawkeye hums in appreciation. He's too tired to try and think of any witty quips. 

"I'm sorry, sir," Radar blurts out.

"Sorry for what?"

"You got hurt because of me. I'm sorry."

"I didn't get hurt because of you, Radar. You didn't set off the bomb."

"But you got hurt protecting me."

"And I'd do it again," Hawkeye argues. "I'm not going to let you die here, kid. You're not even old enough to vote yet. Plus, without you, this camp would fall apart."

"I don't know how to thank you," Radar says quietly.

"You don't have to thank me. And remember, if I die, you inherit my height."

Radar's annoyed huff turns into a chuckle. Laughter echoes through the room. And you know what, they're right. Laughter really is the best medicine.

[tailhitch]

“Newsy, is the camera on yet??” An excited feminine voice called out. “And how do I look?”

“You look fine ma’am I guarantee it.”

“Just, like chill Cammy, I just need to remove the lens cap, besides I doubt he’s goin anywhere anytime soon.” The cap was removed from the camera revealing a light purple rabbit with a heart shaped nose, a purple button down shirt, and a blue skirt. In her hands was a simple wireless microphone. Next to her kneeled a massive blue black and gray robot with glowing orange eyes, a mask covering the lower half of its face and a blue metal skirt around its waist. “Alright you’re good to go Cams.”

“Hello everyone my name is Cammy the rabbit with Channel Ten News. Earlier today in the quiet town of Mellow Creek on the southern reaches of the isles we call home a devastating incident took place. An experimental robot belonging to an unknown manufacturer attacked the sleepy little town killing several critters and injuring dozens more.” If one looked carefully they would see one of the robots hands clenched into a fist at the mention of the casualties. “Thankfully before further destruction could occur a hero appeared from seemingly nowhere, no not our local super duo Splendid and Nutboy, but instead it was the mechanical giant you see before me. Sir, could you please tell us your name?”

“Well my name is Tailhitch ma’am, and I’m not that tall, I’m only seventeen feet'' the machine rubbed the back of its blocky head bashfully.

“A pleasure to meet you Tailhitch, would you mind answering some questions for us?”

“Nice to meet you as well ms. Cammy,” Tailhitch held out a finger which the rabbit happily shook, “and I’d be happy to answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“Thank you, our first question is, what were you doing before the attack?”

“Well Ms. Cammy I was sort of just exploring the isles, see I’m relatively new here having only arrived a few months ago in the area around Happy Tree.”

“Why hadn’t you shown yourself before this?”

“Simple, I’m a little paranoid, the first day I got here I met Splendid only to be tackled through a building by him because he thought I was some ‘alien invader’ or something” Tailhitch did the jazz hands motion to emphasize his point.

“Fascinating! And how did you survive such an encounter with the hero?”

“Well, as it turns out my weapons had something of a negative effect on him as they don’t mix well with organic life. Add in the fact that even by my own people’s standards I’m freakishly durable and I was able to go toe to toe with him for a little while.”

“Your own people? Are you saying there are more like you?”

“Somewhere out there yes, although I doubt they exist in this universe.”

“What are they called and also, universe? You’re saying you’re from another universe?”

“We go by several names although the most common are cybertronian and transformer, and yeah, it’s kind of why I’m stranded here”

“What happened that led to you coming to the isles Mr Tailhitch?”

He sighed, loudly. “Look, I don’t really wanna get into it but let’s just say I had an incident with a fellow soldier and leave it at that, ok?”

“Ok, so you said that you are a soldier? In what army exactly?”

“I fight for the Autobots under the command of the legendary Optimus Prime.”

“Ooooh that sounds heroic!”

“He is, I’ve watched him throw himself in front of explosions just to save a handful of innocent civilians from a race that he doesn’t even belong to.”

“Wow, that's incredible! But getting back to the incident from earlier, is that why you threw yourself at the runaway robot? To be like your commander?”

“In a way, I guess. Optimus has always taught the rest of the Autobots to always protect those that cannot protect themselves. Seeing that thing attacking civilians I knew I had to do something. It wasn’t about emulating Optimus, it was about doing the right thing as a soldier. Be strong enough to be gentle, he’d tell us.”

“How noble. Could you please tell us how the fight played out from your side?”

“Of course. I first heard the screaming while I was in my vehicle mode and worried that something serious was happening. I sped around a corner only to be met with the robot on the other end of the street. I could see that it had someone in one of its claw hands so I knew I had to take care of that first. Driving up as fast as I could I transformed and extended the blade above my left hand,” he held up his left arm and a brilliant glowing orange blade emerged from the limb right above the hand before it slid back into his arm vanishing from sight. “After that I cut the arm off, retrieved the thankfully unharmed critter, and told them to get somewhere safe before turning to face my opponent once again.”

“Did you have any trouble battling the robot?”

He shook a hand in a ‘so-so’ motion, “the fight itself wasn’t the hard part, in fact it was quite easy to handle that thing, the actual hard part was keeping it from smashing into buildings or hitting any bystanders with its eye beams.”

“Yes, the footage captured shows you throwing yourself in front of blows that weren’t directly aimed at you.”

“Soon I found myself in close quarters combat with it, unfortunately that isn’t my specialty”

“What is your specialty then?”

“Demolitions work, I carry a myriad of explosives with me for various purposes, the problem was that due to the environment we were in I couldn’t risk a shot from my blaster or an explosive going wide and hitting a building or Primus forbid, a civilian.”

“Primus?”

“The primary god of the cybertronian race.”

“I see, carry on.”

“So I was forced into close combat having to rely on my blade and my fists, it’s a good thing that it was as clunky as it was otherwise the fight would have been more difficult. But in the end after a series of punches, kicks and swings of my blade I brought it down.”

“Truly amazing stuff, after the battle was over witnesses say they saw you examine the destroyed robot's body before crushing part of it with your bare hands and dragging it off, what happened there and where are the remains now?”

“I found the manufacturer of the machine and it made me angry, so to prevent them from recovering their little project I ripped it to pieces and threw it into the ocean which is right around the time you two found me.”

“And who exactly made the robot?”

“That is something I’m not willing to disclose simply for the fact that I do not want you getting hurt because of me. What I can say though, is that I probably made some very powerful people upset.”

“I understand, well we only have a couple more questions for you.”

“Ask away ma’am.”

“After you left the scene, Splendid and Nutboy arrived with Splendid saying that he always knew you’d make a great hero. How does that make you feel?”

“What he thinks of me as a hero is irrelevant, I was simply doing what was right and my job as an Autobot. I have no ill will towards Splendid, or his sidekick but I’m not doing this for money, fame, or fun.”

“And our final question before we let you go on your way is this, what will you do now?”

Tailhitch stood up and looked to the horizon. “Well, the secret’s out now so I can’t hide anymore. I’ll probably just keep doing what I’ve been doing, living amongst you all while looking for a way home. But at least now I’m able to openly help people.”

“Well I must say this has been a truly enlightening interview. Thank you for your cooperation and time Tailhitch.”

“The pleasure was all mine Ms. Cammy, stay safe and have a good rest of your day.” With that he turned and walked off before transforming into a pickup truck of an unknown make and drove off.

Cammy turned to her cameraman with excitement in her eyes. “I think this is it Newsy! This is our big break! Stop recording and let’s get this back to the studio!” Cammy dragged her partner along by one of his hands all the way back to the news station.

How fortunate for the partners that a mass casualty incident had already occurred that day sparing them from gruesome fates of their own.

[syncopein3d]

A Necessary Intervention

Well this one went longer than planned. But hey, I got to play with one of my whumperless July characters! Say hi to Jack Ford, covert agent who is married to his job and has some trouble accepting help.

Content and warnings: hospital, hospitalization, involuntary sedation, involuntary drugging, loss of consciousness, small amount of blood, injection, angst, helplessness. Jack is trans, but this doesn't form a major story component, it's more mentioned in passing.

"All right, Mr. Ford, your ID checked out, but I'm afraid we have a problem."

He'd gotten THAT far. The Tacoma Balance Clinic was busy, but he was on a gurney in a hallway anyway, currently with his legs strapped down under the blanket to keep him from "falling off." He'd had enough contact with fully human medical personnel to understand this was code for "trying to get up and leave, because Hunters are idiots."

"What problem?" He knew her name was Edith because she'd said it earlier, but damned if he was going to be on a first name basis with a revenant.

"Your factor-qh level is very low," the nurse said. "Your regeneration is impaired. We know it's not a curse, our artificer Dr. Ramgoolam confirmed that, so right now we're thinking poison. Do you remember anything like that?" Tonight's nurse was undead. She was pretty convincing at looking alive, remembering to fake breathing and well-fed enough to have color, but you couldn't fool a Hunter's nose. A vampiric body wasn't composed quite the same as a living one. She smelled like resin and aloe as a peculiar undertone to the very lifelike scent of female flesh. There was also the matter that she was leaning against his gurney in order to be heard over the hallway traffic, but he couldn't hear a pulse.

Jack looked down at the stocky length of his body, currently leaking through his stupid tiny gown in several places. All of the punctures stung, and some seemed to radiate a deeper ache. His fingers and toes did feel slightly numb. Actually, his toes felt a lot numb. He couldn't feel much from slightly above his knees downwards. Weight dragged at his limbs, as if the blanket was leaded. It was almost distracting enough to keep him from feeling uneasy about them having taken his boxers and packer.

"I remember being peppered with titanium flechettes. Not really a way to tell what was on them. Blood's a loud smell," he said.

The nurse winced. "Right, you were at the incident with Elevated Painfather Struycken. He was an... Advanced telekinetic." That very much would NOT be on the news, but word got around on private social media platforms - Discord, weird corners of the Fediverse, ancient builds of AOL Instant Messenger that some of the vamps couldn't let go of.

"I noticed. So what happens now?"

"We'll put you on aldisine and try and help enhance your natural regen to metabolize the poison. If that doesn't work, we'll put one of our arcanists on it, but they're in short supply, and purgation is traumatic even for a demihuman."

"When do I leave?" Jack asked.

The vampire exhaled slowly, which Jack knew to be unnecessary and therefore deliberate.

"Not for a while. Most people can't do much on this medication. You might be able to get up to go to the bathroom, but even that will be hard."

Jack set his jaw. The vampire was eyeing him. She smelled newly dead enough - that is, fleshy, almost human enough - that he might be stronger and faster. If he made a real effort, he knew he could break the straps and sprint.

"Don't do it," she said. "You won't make it to the door in your condition. This is serious, Jack. You have low blood pressure and mild arrhythmia already -"

"Lady, every 24 hours I am off the street there's another casualty from supernatural assault. We exist for a reason." He tried not to look directly at her as he said it. He didn't like vampires. He knew that wasn't helpful when they were supposedly providing medical care. "I'll recover. I'm not afraid of pain."

"This isn't about pain," she said patiently. "It's about the very real risk of cardiac or respiratory failure. I mean it. Stay put. We'll run a line in." She pointed a talon at him as she walked backward a couple of steps before she turned to round a corner. She wasn't grinding them down to look like fingernails. Maybe glamour hid that from people who weren't demihuman. Jack had only actually seen what an undead under glamour looked like once that he knew of, and he hoped never to again, because in a subspecies of humanity engineered to resist both arcane and undead mind control a failure of those abilities meant you were looking at a very, very powerful elder.

Nobody was looking directly at him. Jack sat up and reached down to grab the leg straps with his numb fingers. The fasteners were underneath the gurney for this exact reason, but the straps were just regular medical gear. They weren't designed with demihumans in mind. Jack's fingers felt like clubs, but the straps came apart one by one.

...Loudly. Shit. People were looking. He slid off the gurney, managing not to stumble as his unfeeling feet found the floor. Then he started to run.

He got up a pretty good head of speed, ignoring the growing commotion behind him, until he skidded around the corner and every hair on his body stood up at once. He tried to back away from the black figure in front of him, a shadow that seemed to suck light into it, and then he was yanked vertically from the floor.

"Somne," said a voice. He could see the blue stars flying toward him, but he couldn't move, and then they hit and the world went slow. Every iota of genetics and training snapped back at the will trying to get hold of his, at the overpowering feeling of peace and relaxation, but he was weakened by the poison. He could feel his numb limbs growing even heavier as he fought to keep his eyes open, the fluorescent ceiling light blurring overhead.

Nurse Edith's head hovered into his view.

"Well, I guess this isn't a surprise," she said. "Thank you, Doctor Tsuchida."

"He's still awake," said a distant voice. "He is very strong, for a dying man. What do you need?"

"Lemme go," Jack mumbled. Edith must have gestured where she wanted the witch to put him, because he was suddenly moving, ceiling passing fast overhead. An invisible hand flattened him to something soft. He felt a cold hand thump at his elbow, then the sting of the needle as it went in. There was almost no wiggling around before the tape came down over it. First try, he thought distantly. They often had trouble with the heavier needles it took to pierce a Hunter's skin. He could hear Edith prepping a saline flush, and taste it not long after it went in.

"This is to help you relax, so we can stop taking up Doctor Tsuchida's time."

"It's not a problem," said the older female voice from further away behind Edith.

"I do not consent to medical care," Jack said, enunciating carefully.

"Well, fortunately for you, I don't need your consent when your life is at stake," Edith said. "Not even for a BPE agent."

He could feel the cold creeping up his arm. He tried to brace himself, but then suddenly the ceiling washed over pink, and a burst of warm euphoria rushed through him. Every little pain from his punctures vanished. He couldn't even try to fight it when it felt that good. The feeling of telekinetic pressure lifted away as his head lolled to the side, eyes fluttering. Edith was watching him.

"Take it easy, Jack. We're here to help." He felt a hand card through his hair, talons scratching his scalp very lightly. Later, he would feel ashamed of how incredible that felt, of how easily he gave in to that wonderful sensation. In the moment, he closed his eyes and sleep rolled him under like a big, slow wave.

The light was different when he knew anything else. Jack blinked and was looking at a different ceiling again. This one had a poster of tropical fish. He turned his head and was startled by how hard it was. He tried to move his arms, half-expecting to be buckled down, but there were no restraints now, only warm sheets. It was just that dragging his hand up to his stomach on top of the sheets felt like moving through syrup. He still felt somehow floaty at the same time, and nothing hurt, so whatever Edith had given him hadn't worn off yet. The room felt cold outside his layers of sheet and blanket, freezing on his face and neck.

Something nearby beeped. There were patches on his chest above the collar of his gown, leads trailing away. There was still a line in his elbow, the long plastic tube leading to what looked like hanging bags, but the print was too small and far away to read.

He looked around with an effort. The room had no window, but there was a big tv screen on the wall showing what was probably the Monterey Bay Aquarium's YouTube channel, jellyfish swimming in their slow, blind ballet. Jack was starting to drift again, looking at them, when he heard the door open.

Dragging his head around to look was like rolling a boulder uphill. A big man in teal scrubs was just closing the door behind him. Jack's nose felt numb, too. He couldn't smell much of anything, bizarrely. He couldn't remember the last time he'd met someone and not been able to say human, undead, arcane or demihuman.

"Hey, you're awake," he said. "Hi, Jack. I'm Dace. I'm your nurse tonight. How do you feel?" He had curly brown hair and freckles across his nose.

"Weak," Jack said.

"Yeah," Dace said sympathetically. "That's the aldisine. Most people run a fever and feel cold from the metabolic load. We're giving you IV nutrition and water to help. Do you want another blanket on your shoulders?"

"I have to go back to work," Jack said. He hated how weak his own voice sounded, barely a whisper.

"Man, you Hunters really are like that, huh? You can't go back to work yet. You're poisoned. If you were a regular human, you'd be dead. I'm sorry, but we'll have you back in shape soon." He went to the big plastic cupboard in the corner to get another blanket. A wave of heat hit Jack from that side, melting his intended protest on his tongue. He did want another blanket. He wanted it worse than anything he had ever wanted that he could remember. He hated that, but he was still unable to do anything but cooperate as Dace put the blanket around him. He had to help Jack sit up and lie down again, hand behind his shoulders.

"Thanks," Jack whispered. Wrapped in warmth, fingers surreptitiously burrowed into the shoulder blanket, the cold wasn't so bad. He was fading. Dace said something else, but Jack didn't hear it.

When he woke up again, he felt a little stronger. He could move his head and arms, and he could feel the pain of all his little punctures again. They hadn't healed away yet, so he still wasn't regenerating right, but at least he wasn't so fuzzy. He still felt cold. His lower legs were pins and needles.

Resting his weight on them was intense pain, but he made it to the bathroom. It was on the way back that he had to stop and lean on the sink counter halfway to the bed. The cardiac monitor ratted him out. Dace found him there.

"Can I help?" He asked.

"No," Jack said. "I should be able to do this." At least he recognized his own voice again.

"No, you shouldn't," Dace said. "You shouldn't be able to stand up, even. You should still be high off your ass from the sedatives, dude. Edith was sure you were gonna kill yourself trying to get out."

Jack groaned. "No more sedation."

"Only if you let me help you get back in bed."

"Deal," he muttered. He leaned on Dace's arm to hobble back to the bed. "How long have I been in here now? Can I have my phone?"

"About twenty hours, and yeah, of course." He helped lift Jack's legs back up into the bed, surprisingly gently, and helped reassemble the warm blanket pile around and over him. Jack hadn't realized how cold he had felt until he was warm again. Still, his hand closed around the phone tight enough to make the plastic creak before he made himself ease off. He curled onto his side so he could send an abbreviated report to this week's minder at the Bureau of Pact Enforcement.

He wouldn't be reprimanded. He was injured, but he had also stopped a potentially city-threatening and very public incident. That didn't change the need to get back to doing the important work right...

The phone slipped through his fingers to land in a swirl of sheets.

Right now...?

He fumbled around to hit ACCEPT on the form, hoping it wasn't just incoherent nonsense. That took the last of what he had. He just lay there for a couple of minutes, breathing. Eventually he slept again.

The next time he woke up, Dace was there before the monitor finished telling everyone Jack was out of bed. He stopped at the bathroom door when asked, but it was much easier to get to and from with help. Jack's feet and legs hurt less.

"I think it might be working," he said. He hated the feeling of prickles on his face and jaw. It was unprofessional. When he was younger he'd been very proud of his ability to grow a beard. Now it was a nuisance.

"Let's look at your dressings, then. I'm supposed to change them today."

The many little puncture wounds had not disappeared, but they were smaller. Dace covered them with gauze and tape again, one by one, uncovering only as much of Jack as he had to for each one. That was suspiciously sensitive of him - oh, but Jack's chart would have his medical history, of course. He was still passing. It wasn't a problem, he told himself. He was just glad he had the enchanted implant now and didn't have to keep injecting T.

"Not there yet, but closer," Dace said. "Are you ready to try eating or drinking? We have those horrible shake rations you guys use, if it helps."

"I could handle a horrible shake ration," Jack said. His mouth felt like a raccoon had died in it.

He managed to hold the foil box himself, in both hands, glaring at Dace when the nurse tried to reach for his wrist. It tasted familiarly like chemical banana barely masked by cocoa. That was a little reassuring. It made his mouth feel only slightly better, given the aftertaste.

"Can I shave?" he asked.

"I can bring you the kit to the bed here, yeah."

Dace came back to check on him a couple of minutes later and found him still sitting on the edge of the bed, slumped over the tray table in exhausted defeat with half his face still unshaven. Dace had to finish it for him, trying to distract him from his utter humiliation by making him talk.

"It's been a rainy spring, huh? Do you hike? I can tell you lift."

"I don't hike," Jack growled, then swallowed and moderated his tone. "I uh. I mean sometimes I do for work. I cleaned out a coven on the Olympic Peninsula that were sacrificing each other to try and enchant a money machine. By Port Angeles. I guess the woods were nice."

"Shiiiit, that was you?" Dace didn't sound like he was faking being impressed. "Man, I think you saved my cousin. It was a while before she was okay, but she said her turn was next. They told her she would be someone important's familiar."

Jack snorted. "Maybe. They admitted to rigging their lottery so newer members got cut first."

"Figures," Dace said. "You can't get in trouble for telling me that, can you?"

"No. It was all over WitchBook the same day. If the machine had actually worked it'd probably be classified now, but it didn't even come close."

"Whoa."

"Do you hike?" Jack asked.

"Oh yeah, I love Rainier this time of year."

"Tell me about Rainier," he said, so he could stop talking. Apparently there were marmots. Jack tried to remember if he knew what a marmot was. He could look it up later, when he wasn't so tired. Dace left in a good mood. Most people liked you better if you made them talk about themselves. Jack had never known why.

He checked his phone when he was lying down again. His report was signed off. Good. He went back to sleep.

This went on for days, according to the phone. He slept for a lot of it, and he needed help doing simple things for most of when he was awake. He had two other rotating nurses, both big men, one a huge Filipino named Tony that he liked best of the three because Tony didn't make him say much and also didn't talk a lot. The third one, Arizona, was a Seahawks fan, so he only had to get him going about football and he could at least avoid talking about himself.

When his nose started to recover, it was a mixed blessing, because now he could tell all three of his nurses were witchbreeds who had not inherited powers, but he could also smell the ever-present hospital smell. The doctor who came to see him was a vampire, a sleek shiny-haired woman called Gupta who said he could leave the same day that his punctures went away. Jack peeked under the dressing of the one on his right arm every couple hours after that.

Gradually, he started to get stronger. Dace fussed at him in his laid-back way for overdoing it when he caught him on the floor trying to do pushups. Tony sneaked him a Snickers from the vending machine as a break from nutrition shakes. Jack wondered that night, as he watched a video of fish gliding around the big tv, what you sent nurses in 2024. These guys seemed like they wouldn't be that into flowers. Maybe he could send coffee cards. If there was anything he knew about nursing it was that the entire profession would collapse without caffeine.

The feeling in his fingertips and feet came back almost overnight. That day the bandages came off because the punctures were gone, and they took away his IVs one by one. That night Gupta came to look at him again, and then three hours later (or twelve years in Hospital Time) he was discharged. His clothes had been completely ruined, so he'd arranged for some sweats from the gift shop and an Uber all the way back to his apartment in Kirkland.

Dace wheeled him out to the Uber. Jack was stiff, hands clenched on the arms of the chair, barely able to contain his impatience. He was more abrupt saying goodbye than he intended. His phone said he had a new case - light work, one vestal vampire in Portland, Oregon who was suspected of multiple splashy murders.

He sent the coffee cards anyway, and a big bouquet for Edith in the Emergency department. Maybe it would make up for being such an asshole.

Please?