#goddamn i wish i had a fraction of his skill he's so good

[scorndotexe]

i've got a friend that lovessss my art and my writing and pretty much begs me to draw and write and man i'd fucking love to but i'm in creativity hell always

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader Part 2/?

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

content warning. shameless smut, profanity, size kink, age gap, afab reader, fingering, squirting This is part two of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

Length 1.7k words

The predatory grin that split his face made you surge with fear and delight, watching his scar pull taught in the most deliciously tantalizing way. "Why don't I show you?"

His eyes were sharp, and you could tell he was aware of every subtle shift, every tense of your muscles. Knowing that, the way you parted your thighs for him ever so slightly seemed to be enough of a response. You squeaked, effortlessly being lifted from your seat and placed on the cool countertop, the legs of the chair scraping against hardwood flooring. Even with the sudden change of position, Toji was nearly half a head taller than you at his full height. You briefly wondered if that reflected anywhere else on his body... Strong hips pushed between your thighs, leaving little room for imagination as his muscle hardened body pressed up against your front, lush green eyes grazing your lips, down to your breasts, then back up to catch your own gaze. Your mind was spinning a mile a minute, he was so close you could smell the mint on his breath poorly covering up the cigarette he had on his drive over. "Do you mind, princess?" Toji took your chin in a firm grip between his thumb and forefinger, tauntingly wagging your shock-slackened face. His thumb that was previously purchased only an inch lower stroked your bottom lip. Your head was so foggy you almost missed the question, shamelessly shaking your head quickly when you realized he was speaking to you. He wasn't as rough as you expected him to be when he kissed you. You had expected brute force, and although there was force, there was a kind of gentleness to it, like he was trying to coax something out of you. It didn't take much for you to give in to his subtle request, tongues brushing gently, eliciting an excited shiver down your spine. You hadn't noticed your white-knuckle grip on the countertop under you until Toji brought the fingers gripping your chin to your wrist, guiding your hand dangerously low on his black clad torso. He parted from you, close enough to feel your stuttered breaths, but far enough to take in your flustered appearance. "You're actin' like you're expecting me to rip a chunk out of you," Toji gibed, letting go of your wrist and setting both hands low on your hips. "I wouldn't unless you asked me to, you can loosen up sweetheart." "Well I can't exactly say I've prepared to be in this situation." "Mm, but you've thought about it, haven't you? Dirty girl." It was more of a statement than a question, he saw straight through your well behaved facade. You swallowed the words caught in your throat, unable to deny it. Toji didn't seem to want a response, like he knew the answer already, and dove back in for another kiss. This was was more what you were expecting, it made your head spin. Your hand moved slowly, feeling every ridge underneath the stretched out fabric as it traveled up, making home on his broad shoulder. Your other hand quickly found his upper bicep, feeling the muscles flex when he gave your hips a squeeze. What you hadn't expected was his sudden display of strength, one arm lifting you from the counter while the other all but ripped your shorts from your legs. Quickly parting from Toji, you look at him in awe.

"I'd like to be gentle, but seeing you so messed up this morning... got me thinking how fuckin' wrecked you’ll look when I'm done with you." He spoke low, eyes peeking through black strands dangerously.

"Is that a promise, or a threat?" "All depends on you, sweetheart." With no more words exchanged, Toji took quick strides and carried you over to the couch, dropping you down with a little less grace than you had desired. You let out a quick exhale, barely being able to recover the breath you lost when he immediately climbed on top of you and dove back in for a bruising kiss. Using one hand to hold himself up, Toji used the other to run up your thigh, trace the hem of your underwear, deliberately avoiding the ache between your thighs that was desperately needing attention. It continued upwards, bringing your shirt up with it, stopping only once it was pulled over your now exposed bust. Amidst the languid strokes of his tongue against your own, you felt a low hum of approval that reverberated through you and shot straight to the growing heat between your legs. "Nothing underneath? It's like you were waiting for me," He whispered against your lips. "Why would I wear a bra in my own home? Don't flatter yourself, Mister Fushiguro." You quipped back, almost immediately regretting your words. The hand hiking your shirt up shot to your throat, holding it firmly enough to be uncomfortable, but not nearly tight enough to choke you. Your hands moved quickly to grab his arm, but his empty hand intercepted the intrusion and pinned them above your head. "Watch your mouth if you know whats good for you, doll." You felt ashamed his threat made your pussy throb. It subsided slightly when he removed his hand from your neck. To get his point across, Toji leaned down and bit down on your pulse point just below your jawline, dragging something between a gasp and whine from your throat. Tracing his slick tongue over the reddened skin, he moved down agonizingly slow, grazing over your bunched up shirt, and settling over one of your already hardened nipples. You could see the look on his face, smug, like he was saying already this excited? It didn't take him long to make quick work of his mouth, circling your nipple with his tongue before grazing his teeth over the perked bud, coaxing a whine from you. He didn't stay long, quickly moving to the other nipple and giving it a more thorough treatment. He used his skillful hands to pinch and roll the other, his fingers moving expertly to pull as much sound out of you as possible. His smirk against your skin didn't go unnoticed as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue and tugging gently with his teeth, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly you needed him. Toji seemed to take your sudden silence as defiance, something even you knew he had zero tolerance for. Fingers abandoned toying with your pert nipple, tracing a line on your skin as he moved down to your underwear, pressing the pad of his middle finger against your surprisingly wet panties. Detaching himself from you and using the hand trapping your wrists, he pushed himself up to take a look at you. Toji whistled, now using both index and middle finger to give your clothed pussy languid strokes. "Already this wet, you dirty little thing? You've been waiting for this," He mused. You avoided eye contact, turning your head to look at the back of the couch, the pressure on your wrists releasing. You would ask him what he was doing if he hadn't gripped your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to look at him. "I want you to watch me fuck you with my fingers." His hands worked in time with his voice, yanking your underwear down one leg, leaving it dangle on your other ankle. There was no time to come up with a witty remark, your back arching as he plunged a thick finger in to the last knuckle, pumping at a steady pace. "I want you to look at me as you cum." Toji quickly added a second finger, your moans and whines growing quickly in pitch as he forced you to face him. His expression was unchanging, dark eyes blown with lust and mouth pulled into a firm line. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. He scissored his fingers, stretching you out to make room for a third, and it was just as quickly added as the others. His skilled thumb came to your clit, rubbing in a quick, circular motion that had you seeing stars. It was too much stimulation all at once, and your expression was quick to change, mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. "I wish I could take a picture of your pretty fuckin' face." Toji grinned. You felt your walls start to pulse, your legs tensing and shaking from the intensity of your upcoming orgasm. "T-Toji, it'sh too mush... I'm-!" You slurred your words, cheeks being squeezed tighter between his strong hand as he forced your face closer to his. "You can take it." He left no room for convincing. He didn't have to. "Cum for me." As your orgasm violently ripped through your entire body, you could have sworn your vision whited out for just a fraction of a second. You didn't realize you had screamed, your pussy seizing and pulsing around his fingers that were fucking you through your orgasm. He didn't seem to care that your eyes were rolled too far back in your head to be able to look at him while you came down from your high. "Goddamn princess, you're a squirter huh?" Toji removed his fingers from inside you, squishing your cheeks to garner your attention. "Look at the mess you made." "I've... never..." You whispered, chest heaving from the intensity. The way he licked between his fingers had your throbbing cunt silently begging for more. Once you caught your breath, you felt the slight ache already washing over your body. Toji didn't give you time to relax, immediately stripping himself of his shirt and untying the strings on his sweats. His body was something you'd only seen in your dreams, every muscle well defined, although littered with scars. When you made eye contact, he couldn't hold back his chortle at your bewildered expression. "Oh, sweetheart, did you think we were done?" He jeered, using one hand to shove his pants and boxers down to his knees, letting his incredibly heavy cock bounce free. It drooped under its sheer girth and size. You came to a quick conclusion that had he not prepared you how he did, there was no fucking way his dick would fit. "Doll, we're just getting started."

[lrissa]

I’m right here

summary: levi and you have grown close in the underground, but when you’re forced to join the Survey Corps and attend your first expedition it all goes south

warnings: vomiting, angst, fluff, all of levi’s ova

this one is long, apologies.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

Levi, Isabel, Farlan and you flew through the air with the Military Police hot on your tail. Recently you were given information on a secret mission, to kill Erwin Smith.

Happiness tingled in every bone of your body, it was close to the time for you to go to the surface with Levi, to experience the sun together.

“The military police again? Haven’t learnt their lesson have they?” Isabel remarked with a cocky tone, peering back at our pursuers.

“Levi-bro! What I just said was cool, right?” She grinned widely and you smiled at her, already knowing Levi’s answer.

“Are you an idiot?” The raven head answered, Isabels face turned into a frown and she rolled her eyes.

Levi took off with his ODM and spun around before latching his grapples onto a wall, perched there for a moment while the attackers followed him as he jumped off, spinning backwards and joining us again.

“Show off.” You retorted as Levi stayed silent.

“Those movements, they’re not Military Police!” Farlan commented as he stared back at the enemies

“No mistake, its them,” Levi broke through, keeping his eyesight strained forwards “That Wings of Freedom crest.. It’s the Survey Corps.”

You stared wide eyed then looked past your shoulder at them.

“Heh, as people who battle titans they’re as different as expected.” Farlan lightly joked

“You guys... You know, right?” Levi inquired.

“It’s the job, right” You answered, hair whipping behind you as you flew forwards.

Instantly you all released your ODM’s and shot them off in separate directions, splitting up.

Gazing back you examined as one followed you, narrowing your eyes you fixated your eyes straight.

‘Show me how good you really are’ You thought.

Nearing a tunnel you shot your ODM inside, spinning into a ball to gain quicker on it, flattening out once inside.

Exiting the tunnel you noticed someone above you, eyes widening you shot forwards, releasing your gas excessively. Letting one grapple go you swung around on the one, watching as your pursuer anticipatied this they unsheathed their blades and went to strike you, dodging barely you fell back into a crate full of food.

Tumbling backwards you grunted, glaring as he ran after your fleeting figure. Finally gaining ground you straighten up until being thrown onto the floor again by a man.

You yelled and flipped eachother over, throwing punches at the mans face while another hooded figure came from the side. Throwing you off the man as you slid across the floor

Jumping up you gained your ground and pulled out a small dagger whilst they wielded their long blades.

One threw their blade at your knife, unsuspecting this it succeeded and they ran at you. Eyes widening as they kicked down one of your legs, landing painfully onto the hard stone.

Placing your hands behind your back they cuffed you and hoisted you up, struggling against their grip.

“You think you’re so strong.. Well fuck off” You sneered as they smacked the back of your head, furrowing your brows at the surprise.

Levi soon came into view with a blonde man holding a blade to him, anger spiked through every nerve in your body. With your futile attempts to get out the grasp of the handcuffs your wrists began to become red with irritation.

Levi’s eyes locked with yours and his eyes narrowed, the blonde man muttering things to Levi before he opened his palm to release his dagger.

“Levi!” You yelled and tried to break free of your captor.

Levi took steps back as a new Survey Corps came up behind him and placed the handcuffs on him.

Bringing us over they lined us up and made us go on our knees, staring at the ground your hair hung over your eyes.

Levi was to the left of you, turning your head you peered at him, there was a distant look in his eyes as he hyper fixated on the ground beneath him. You frowned and returned your gaze back to the floor.

“I’ll ask a few questions.” The blonde one asserted infront of you all “Where did you get this?”

There was silence as we all kept our mouth shut, why would we fucking tell you, idiot.

“You guys are skilled with 3D Maneuver Gear. Who taught you all that?” The man questioned again.

He walked towards Levi, stopping infront of him. “You’re their leader, right?” he persists “Were you in the Military?”

Suddenly a man grabs the back of Levi’s head, his fists knotting in his hair as he slammed his head into a puddle of mud.

Your head shot up immediately “Let him go!” You yelled and struggled against your cuffs, your gaze deathly as you glared at the man holding Levi.

“I’ll ask one more time. Where did you learn to use 3D Maneuver Gear?”

Your face was in a large scowl as your eyes were trained on the man restraining Levi, if looks could kill he’d be doubled over.

“We learned it by ourselves!” Farlan shouted

“Self taught you say? No.”

“It’s just so we can rise even a bit in this dirty garbage place!” Farlan persisted, shouting “People who’re used to sunlight wouldn’t understand!”

“That’s enough! Let bro go.” Isabel shouted at the blonde giant, “Dont be cocky just because you’re soilders!”

“Take your filthy hands off him.” You seethed at the one gripping Levi’s hair, paying no mind to you.

Eventually he lifted Levi’s head from the dirty mud whilst the man squatted infront of him.

“My name is Erwin Smith. Yours is?”

“Levi.”

“Levi, why don’t we make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“I will let your crimes go unpunished. In return lend me your strength, join the Survey Corps.”

Your eyes widened and you gasped lightly “Levi, no...” You called, the Survey Corps were extremely dangerous and you didn’t want Levi to risk his life by himself.

“And if I refuse?”

“The Military Police will have you, considering all your crimes, you and your friends won’t be treated very nicely.” The man stood and returned to his original placement, “Choose whichever you prefer.”

There was a long pause as Levi considered this, thoughts of you flashed through his mind vaguely. He didn’t want you beaten for his choice, but neither did he want Farlan and Isabel to either.

“Fine.”

You looked down at the floor, a frown evident on your face as you shook your head.

“I’ll join the Survey Corps.”

You were going with him no matter what.

──────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────────

“Introduce yourselves!” Bellowed a voice as you stood, leaning your weight against one hip as you crossed your arms over your chest.

You all ended up joining the Survey Corps and stood wearing the outfit, atleast it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“The names Levi.”

“Levi.. The first thing you’ll need is some goddamn discipline,” argued the commander “Next.”

“I’m Isabel Magnolia! Nice to meetcha!”

“My name is... Farlan Church.”

With your arms crossed you studied the crowd as they waited for you,

“My name is Y/N.”

“Flagon, these four will be assigned to your squad.” Ordered the Commander.

The introductions ended and Flagon brought them to the barracks, they began to converse amongst eachother as you walked behind Levi.

His hand lifted and rubbed behind the wood, dust falling and sticking to his fingertips. Farlan, Isabel, and your eyes all widened in fear as you quickly noticed what it was.

“I know you all lived in the underground, but try to keep this place paper clean.” Stated the man.

“..Huh?” Levi remarked as he walked towards Flagon, his gaze icy with a glare.

“Why are you looking at me like that? How dare you.”

Farlan rushed forwards and placed a hand between the two, “Sorry! We will keep this place clean.”

Flagon nodded and headed for the door “Training begins to tomorrow,” and left.

You looked back at Levi, walking towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, gingerly squeezing it.

“Don’t pull anymore tricks like that Levi.” Commented Farlan as he watched him clean the filth off his fingers.

Levi frowned angrily and looked past you to Farlan “Did you not hear what that piece of shit had spouting out of his piece of shit mouth?”

You grinned a bit at that and stepped away from Levi, sitting down on the bed as you let the two argue. Resting your head in your hands whilst you shut your eyes.

You felt the bed dip and removed your hands, looking to see Levi. A disgusted look present on his face as he couldn’t believe he was sitting in such filth.

“Levi, are you worried?” You asked softly. You and Levi’s sides were pressed together as he stared straight on.

“Yes, but we have training tomorrow. Then we can finally see how real this is.” He remarked as you nodded, taking his hand in both of yours. He allowed you to, his gaze staring at your hands.

“I wish you hadn’t come.” Levi added, your eyes snapped to his as you held eye contact.

“What, and let you come here by yourself and get potentially killed. Fuck no.” You snapped at him whilst your grip on his hand tightening.

Levi’s gaze softened at you, he knew these titans were dangerous and he was terrified. Terrified for your safety, but he’d never show it.

Suddenly you released your grip on his hand and instead wrapped them around his neck, pulling him close to you as you put your head in the crook of his neck. He smelt of soap and artificial flowers from a cleaning product.

Levi had stiffened under your touch, his heart beat quickly. His mouth only a fraction open as he registered the human contact. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest and clenched his heart, warmth spreading throughout his body. It lasted mere seconds until his face went back to emotionless. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist and he breathed in your scent momentarily. You smelt of light flowers and vanilla. He loved it almost instantly.

Despite his wishes, his eyes shut and his grip on you tightened. Taking in this moment for he was fearful it’d be the first and last. Pulling back slowly, his hands traced along your waist to your cheeks as he cupped them gently.

Your hand gingerly hovered over his as you two stared at eachother, the tension so strong it gripped your heart and squeezed. His eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb extended from your soft skin to your plump lips, rubbing it tenderly.

Running your hand along his arm you traced it to his hair, your nails going through his silky raven locks until your hand reached the back of his neck where his hair began.

Inching him closer, “Levi..” you whispered delicately. Your noses nearly touching as your eyes fluttered shut, Levi took this as acceptance as his lips neared yours.

BANG

“Levi, Y/N,” Farlan.

──────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────────

It was the morning after and you stood, unsheathing the blades from your gear, turning and flipping them as you inspected the sharp objects.

“Eh, what do you think your doing?”

Holding the blades you turned to gaze at one of the captains, flipping the blades you gripped them correctly.

“Don’t worry, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve.” You remarked with a small grin as the captain’s mouth gaped open until his face contoured into one of anger.

“Do not talk to your superior like that—“ Bellowed the captain before you took off into the trees, a laugh following you as it left your lips.

Soaring through the tall trees you kept your eyes honed on any fast approaching objects, gripping your blades tighter as you steadied your breathing.

A large cardboard cutout rose from the trees infront of you, it was bigger than an average human but small when maneuvering above it.

You gasped lightly and faltered momentarily. Leaving your trance you scowled and sent off an ODM on the tree above.

Grappled to the tree you were perched on the tree bark, readying your blades you sent off the ODM on its nape and sliced it through successfully. Grappling away instantly to look for more.

Adrenaline flowed through you, your eyes crazed more as you came across another. Using the nearby trees to swing above and behind the cardboard titan, spinning around you glided above the nape. Grappling the nape and slicing through it perfectly.

The one controlling the cardboard titan stared up at you in shock, how was she so fast?

Continuing this until you made it back to the rest, landing smoothly your eyes scanned the crowd. Spotting Levi you rushed over, grabbing his arm whilst his cold glare turned to look at his grabber.

Levi’s gaze softened realizing it was you and planted a hand on your head, his fingers tangling in your hair before they trailed down your locks and let go.

──────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────────

“I’ll be going alone.”

Levi’s words echoed in your mind as you stared at him, eyes wide. Tch, who does Levi think he is. A scowl formed on your face and your hands clenched into a fist.

“What?” Isabel and Farlan spoke in unison with shocked expressions.

“You three must make up and excuse to stay behind.”

“But bro, why!?” Isabel exclaimed loudly.

“We haven’t seen a real titan yet and it will be our first time outside the walls. It may take all we have to make it back alive. But if i’m by myself, i’ll manage somehow.”

“But..” You got up off the crate and stood, crossing your arms, “So you’re saying is that we can’t handle it?” You questioned briskly.

“That’s right, or atleast, how I feel.” Levi spoke coldly.

Isabel frowned deeply and walked towards Levi, her hands in fist as she shook slightly, “How can you say that? You won’t know till we tried!” She defended “What’s wrong? This isn’t like you,” She’d add.

Levi frowned and clenched his fist, glaring at you three “If you won’t stay behind, then we’re done talking!” he finalized and walked past you, his painful words attacking your heart as you hung your head.

They yelled for him to stop but you stayed silent, Isabel and Farlan began to argue. Looking up you gazed to where he’d gone, the roof.

Walking towards it, it brought the attention of Isabel and Farlan “Y/N” they began as you gestured your hand to follow.

Reaching the roof you noticed Levi sitting, the door opening had caught his attention, he stared at your nearing figure.

“Levi.” You spoke and walked forwards.

“Bro,” “Levi,” spoke Isabel and Farlan simultaneously.

“I can’t let you go alone.” Farlan demanded, standing confidently.

“You said we’d all go at once, have you forgotten?” Isabel added coldly.

You stopped almost infront of him, crossing your arms “We still have to see the beyond the wall.” Levi’s eyes widened and he lost air for a moment, turning back to the view of the roof.

“It’s the same. When you can’t see the moon or stars, the sky up here is just the same as down below.” Levi said dully, staring straight on.

You three looked up into the dark sky, clouds were clogging the beautiful sky from the stars and the planets beyond.

“The color sure, but..” Farlan began, “But it’s different” Isabel concluded as Levi turned his head to Isabel, “We know there’s no ceiling! It’s completely different.”

“Look,” you pointed into the sky, the gloomy clouds moved to reveal a bright moon. “The moon is so bright!” Isabel exclaimed loudly in an awe tone.

Farlan and Isabel took seats on the edge with Levi, staring up. You walked forwards and took a seat next to Levi, your knees touching as you yourself gazed up at the moon and stars.

“We’ll never go back down there.”

“She’s right bro. The four of us always pulled through, right? It’ll be the same with the titans. Let’s do this together.” Isabel grinned widely as she turned to look at her friends.

“Levi, believe in us.” Farlan spoke and looked to his friend, Levi’s eyes dilated when he heard this. His emotions were powerful but so were his friends determination.

Levi looked to the starry sky and pondered this, memories of his friends passed through his mind. Looking back down a smile had taken his lips “Alright. I’ll believe in you.”

“Yay!” Isabel yelled as she put her arms in the air whooping with joy, “Bro sure is a stubborn one isn’t he?”

Farlan began to chuckle whilst you placed your hand on Levi’s, interlacing eachothers fingers as you looked up to the sky. Levi stared at you with determination and most importantly love, the smile he held never ceased to falter from his face.

──────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────────

“We will now begin the 23rd Expedition Beyond the Walls!” Bellowed the Commander of the Survey Corps, “Forward, Everyone!”

He whipped the reigns on his horse and took off, yelling loudly. Everyone followed his command and started off behind him. To the right of you was Levi, Farlan, then Isabel.

As you galloped under the wall it opened to reveal the great plains with some strips of trees. Tilting your head up you found the sun belting down on you, it was gorgeous, better than you could’ve imagined. The sunlight stretched as far as you could see, it’s bright rays lighting the beauty of the land.

Along with you, Farlan and Isabel seemed awestruck while they stared at the bright blue sky, “Wow!” Isabel spoke in awe.

“Yeah. Not bad at all.” Levi said from beside you, staring up he saw the sun. He had fulfilled his promise to Y/N, to go beyond the wall together. A faint smile on his usual bored lips.

“Levi, thank you.” You spoke from beside him, turning to look at the girl who grinned broadly, “Thank you for showing me.”

Levi stared at you, impossible to mutter the words he so badly wanted to say ‘I love you’.

He could only muster a nod at you and turn his head straight on, his heart beating wildly in his chest but his face a stoic one.

A girl scolded the four of you for losing focus, exclaiming we’d die before we know it.

“Titan spotted!”

Your gaze cut to look ahead of you, a 15 meter was running straight at your squad. Air hitched in your throat as you stared at it ‘So this is what a titan looks like’ you thought.

“Two 10-meter class titans are heading for us from behind!”

Snapping your head back you saw the other two titans, eyebrows furrowing.

“Prepare to attack! Equip your 3D Maneuver Gear!”

One man went to attack the titan, shooting his gear at it head on. Before the titans mouth gaped open and crunched down on the man.

Flagon quickly shot his ODM at a nearby tree, flying up off his horse and escalating on the titan, flying behind it and turning back to advance on it he striked at the nape, killing it as it tumbled to the ground.

You were shocked but felt the heavy footsteps of the titans behind you gaining, turning you looked to see the two titans.

“You three! Stay in your course!” Flagon shouted from ahead.

Suddenly a green cape flew by, fluttering in the wind as it headed straight for the two titans behind us.

“Levi!” You yelled and spun your horse around, whipping the reigns roughly as you leaned forwards on the horse, gaining speed by the second.

“Y/N! C’mon Isabel we can do this” Farlan called as they both turned their horses around, chasing after you and Levi.

You watched as Levi jumped off his horse and grappling to a tree behind them before grappling the titan and swinging around it until finally slicing its nape clean off. The surface rumbled as the titan fell to the ground, grass and soil flying into the air.

Taking a deep breath you stood on your horse, grappling to a tree. Unsheathing your blades you released the ODM on its leg, striking behind his knees. From above you saw Isabel get grabbed by the titan, fear striking your heart as you shot your ODM to save her.

Luckily, she cut off the fingers holding her and whooped loudly before swinging away. Farlan came from behind and swung at the nape, ending the titan. You were just infront the titan as you saw it begin to fall forwards, eyes widening as you grappled away hastily.

You landed on the ground and felt a gust of wind and dirt hit you heavily, protecting your eyes with your arm.

Dropping your arm you stood infront of the head of the titan, hot steam exiting into the air.

Levi came from behind you on his horse as he held the reigns of your stead, staring at your figure as you stood, nonmoving.

Despite your best efforts your hands shook from post shock, the blades shuddering in your grip as you still held them.

Levi got off his horse and came up from behind you, his arms snaking around your waist while he pulled your back to his chest.

“Levi..” You whispered softly as you felt your hands steady, sheathing your blades and placing your hands on his.

“Thank you..” Taking his hands off your stomach you held one and turned around, he only nodded at you and squeezed your hand before dropping it.

Isabel and Farlan came from ahead whilst you and Levi mounted your horses silently, “Levi! We took down a titan all by ourselves!” “We did it bro! We did it!” Isabel and Farlan said excitedly, huge grins on their faces.

“Yeah... You guys did well.” Levi agreed while you pet the mane of your horse gingerly.

“Indeed,” The sudden voice made you turn to see Erwin Smith, eyes widening a fraction “that was impressive, considering it was your first time. But you used too much gas. You need to be especially conservative out here.”

Farlan scowled and readied to argue before Levi put his hand out to stop him, speaking cooly, “You’re expecting me to take priority of my equipment over the lives of my friends?”

“You’re performing a lot of unnecessary movements. Are you beginning to have doubts?” Erwin challenged as Levi grimaced, “If you are, that’ll be the death of you very soon.”

You stared at Erwins retreating figure while Isabel and Farlan bickered amongst themselves.

Following after him soon after, the clouds beginning to turn a dark gray from above.

Small bullets of water began to rain down on the land, soaking everything it touched and fast.

Pulling your hood up you noticed fog cloud the area around you, your eyes darting to the areas of open land, fearful for a titan to appear.

“I didn’t know rain could be this heavy!” Isabel called

“We can’t even see any titans!” You exclaimed

“This is our chance.” Levi calmly spoke from ahead of you, “We’ll use the rain as cover and get close to Erwin.”

Small gasps left their mouths, they have totally forgotten their mission.

“Levi!” “Are we gonna do it bro?”

“Yeah. But it’d be suspicious if all three of us were to break away at once. I’ll go alone.”

You tsked and turned your head away from him, shaking it. He is so persistent to be independent all the damn time.

“True, it’s best not to carelessly move around.” Farlan stated.

“Alright fine, we’re counting on you bro! Go and secure our citizenship.” Isabel grinned widely, her teeth shining.

A terrible feeling was inside your chest, it was unexpected and hurt terribly. Something was bound to go wrong and you could feel it pierce your soul.

“If anyone asks, tell them I went to survey the terrain.” Levi gazed at you when he ended, noting the discomfort in your face.

“Y/N” The cool tone caught your attention as you looked to Levi, his eyes narrowing as he looked to you.

“Be safe.” Time slowed as he said this, this answered all your fears. Levi himself was terrified and he emitted it from his eyes, his eyes, they were so scared and vulnerable.

Time came back as he whipped the reigns of his horse and rode forwards, no..

“Levi!” You screamed as he turned his head to you.

“I love you!” You yelled as confidently as you could, his eyes and mouth visibly opening wide, his heart clenched with an igniting warmth. He snapped his head back forwards, he’d say those words when he returned, he had faith in your survival.

Levi’s figure disappeared into the fog as Isabel and Farlan gaped at you, a blush rushing to your cheeks when he never reciprocated it.

“Y/N..” You looked to them, they smiled at you “I’m sure bro loves you! How could he not?” Isabel exclaimed happily as you gave her a faint smile.

Minutes later from riding your hands shook lightly, gazing at your friends you sighed.

Then, Isabel was in the air, why was she in the air? But your eyes hadn’t registered the huge fleshy fingers gripping your close friend. Your eyes widened in fear as your mouth opened to scream for her, Farlan was beginning to unsheath his blades as he rose from his horse.

The titan brought your red headed friend to its mouth, why her? She was always so kind and optimistic. Her happiness always giving her hope in the darkness of this shitty world.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you watched it, watched the titan eat her small, fragile body. Blood, her blood, splattering yours and Farlans face.

“Isabel!” Your screams finally broke the trance you were in, unsheathing your blades and jumping off your horse. Tears streamed down your soft cheeks as you saw Isabels head fall to the floor and roll.

You screamed as you went behind the titan, slicing down its nape, slicing its arms, knees, hands, anything that was connected to the titan was gone or bloody.

Farlan fell to his knees with tears flowing down his face, looking down to Isabels mutilated head. Sobs wracked his bodily heavily as he moved the red hair from her bloody face.

A new titan came from where the other titan had come from, running at you. “Farlan!” You shouted madly as you crouched down quickly, shaking his shoulders violently as he sobbed.

“Farlan! We have to survive, for Levi!!” You screamed at him and kept shaking him, removing the hands from his eyes he stared at your confident look, slowly, he’d nod and shakily stand.

You shot your ODM at a tree and stared to the incoming titan, a hard scowl overcoming your features as you jumped up, grappling its arm.

The titan looked to you and his hand stuck out, you gasped and attempted to move out its way. But it’s hand had caught one of your legs, your eyes dilated as you watched your leg get crushed by the hands of a titan.

A scream left and echoed around you, your terrified and fearful screams.

Farlan came from behind the titan and sliced at its nape, stopping any further damage.

Grappling away quickly, fell to the ground as soon as you landed, your face was coated in filth. Mud and blood covered your body.

Sitting up, you groaned in pain as you looked ahead. Farlan was running to you, shouting for you to stay awake.

But, as there always is, was another titan, it was an abnormal as it ran over on its four limbs. Your eyesight was blurry, looking at Farlan infront of you. His worried gray orbs roaming over yours as you saw his mouth shout words at you.

“Titan..” you mustered out as Farlan spun around to see the abnormal, he was scared, upset, but mostly angry. Angry for the death of Isabel and Y/N’s injury, but more furious at his short life. Farlan was smart he knew he wouldn’t survive this one and it pained him but he’d fight for atleast Y/N to survive this.

He grappled off towards the titan, you watched with zero control. Pain sizzled up your leg and ignited your body in a fury of agony.

“Farlan!” You attempted to shout, reaching your hand out towards his retreating figure. He looked back at you and gave a smile, a smile at a time like this. You wailed loudly and slammed your fist into the dirt sobbing.

From the distance you heard the loud sobs and screams of Farlans last moments as the abnormal bit down on his abdomen, ending his suffering. There was silence but for the titan feasting on Farlan.

Your head hung downwards as wind blew through your hair, shutting your eyes as tears streamed down your face.

Clutching the grass around you, you went against your pain and pushed yourself up off the ground, resting your weight in your good leg.

Levi was in the distance, crouched infront of Isabels head. He hadn’t looked up as he stared at his red headed friend. ‘Y/N, Farlan. Where are they?” he thought painfully as he forced himself to look up.

He caught your standing figure staring at the abnormal, Farlans body dangling from its teethy grin. Levi’s eyes dilated and he immediately stood, unsheathing his blades he ran towards you and the titan.

The abnormal began to reach its hand out to you, it’s fingers unclenching and expanding to grab you.

Blood splattered your face, along with the ground thumping. The raven head stood infront of you with mutilated fingers behind him, his glossy eyes looked back at you and he shoved you.

Levi shoved you to the ground as you landed flat on your ass, you stared at him with an awestruck expression.

“Do not stand! I’ll kill it!” Levi yelled at you, your eyes darting to his hands. They shook violently before he ran towards the abnormal and grappled it.

You sat there like he had insisted you do, hair blew over your eyes as you surveyed the battlefield. Blood streaks littered the area and Isabel, oh Isabel. Farlans body was spit from the titans mouth as he thudded against the dirt, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and an intestine hung out his stomach.

Vomit come up your throat as you leaned over and hurled your morning breakfast, your body heaving as you fell onto your back, staring up at the gray sky. ‘Maybe it was like the undergound’ you pondered.

Far away were Levi’s shouts and screams as he sliced the titans whole body, so much so that the titans head flew off and rolled onto the ground, sputtering blood everywhere.

Blood poured out of every slice Levi had inflicted on the titan, he held no remorse for the monster as he sliced its hands clean off. Until finally, slicing its nape.

Levi landed and kneeled down, his black hair covering his eyes as he shook. He felt knees fall to the ground ahead of him and a hand touch his bloodied cheek.

His head snapped up and he was met with Y/N’s eyes, she rubbed his cheek tenderly. Staring at his dull gray eyes with love and vulnerability. Levi’s eyes glossed over as he was flushed with a wave of gratefulness, his true love lived through this hell.

“Levi... I’m here, I’m right here.”

Levi’s hands cupped your face and pulled you in quickly, your lips fusing together as your eyes fluttered shut. Tears leaked down your eyes as you moved your hands to the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly.

Slowly he pulled back, your lips softly breaking apart as he rubbed away your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you too.”

don’t forget to follow :)

[areyoureadyforsomemeatballz]

Cast Away (8): Tomorrow the Sun Will Rise

Summary: After a mission gone awry, you end up stranded on a deserted island. While you know that you have the skills to survive in the desolate paradise, you’re not sure if your heart will.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual). Descriptions of a panic attack, if you want specifics please message me before reading.

A/N: I’m back! I took a break from the craziness that has been work and was able to finally finish up my draft for this part. The next part is already in the works, too. I hope you all enjoy, if you have a second please, please, please let me know what you think! Beta’d by the lovely @throwmyheartawayagain​ thanks so much, baby.

Bucky was right, neither of you dried before dark. Instead, you stayed close to the fire, wrapped up in each other. Your clothes do nothing to fight off the chill in the early evening air so you nuzzle closer to his warmth.  Bucky’s chest rumbles beneath you and you peek up at him. His soft smile is contagious. 

“Are you asleep?” 

His eyes crack open and meet yours. “Mm-mm.” 

“You’re snoring.” 

“And you’re killing the mood.” He can’t help the bright smile that breaks across his face.

“The sleeping mood?” 

He shakes his head and turns you on his chest so he can fully look at you. “Nah, the ‘this is the best night of my life’ mood.”

You snort and he dips his head to catch your lips in a long kiss. Your fingers dig into his shirt as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip. A whine escapes you as he drags his lips away from yours. 

“I was enjoying that…”

“I’m serious,” he murmurs as he strokes your cheek. 

You grin at him and lean into his touch. “So am I. You’re a really good kisser.”

He scoffs and then goes completely quiet, not pushing you any further. 

After a few minutes you wiggle in his arms and his arms tighten around your waist. You snort and try to push off his chest. 

“Buck…” 

A horn cuts through the still air around you and you shoot out of Bucky’s arms. He’s on his feet just seconds behind you. 

“Was that a-” 

Before you can finish he’s taking off towards the beach. You follow close behind, not quite able to keep up with his speed. Had he been going slower around you this whole time? 

You plow into his back and you let out an undignified cough and he throws a grin over his shoulder. 

“Walk much, babydoll?” 

You elbow him and your eyes scan the horizon until a string of lights catches your attention. Another horn blairs, this one sounding much further away. 

You dive towards the fire pit Bucky had set up for just this purpose. The flint in your hand won’t catch and you curse in frustration. A rough pair of hands closes around yours and you drop the little stone. Your heart drops as the lights float further away. 

“Buck, the boat…” you whisper. “We’ve gotta… I can’t…” 

You scoop up the flint and thrust it into his chest. As soon as you know he’s got it you jump to your feet and take off into the shallows, waving your arms wildly. 

“Hey! We’re here!” You scream at the top of your lungs, cupping your hands around your mouth. “We’re right here. We’re here! Don’t leave!” 

There’s a flash behind you and a sudden heat and you whip around. You’re back at Bucky’s side in an instant and each of you take a stick to dip in the fire. You wave the sticks until they are charred almost all the way down to your fingers. 

Bucky wrenches your branch from your hands with his metal hand. “You’re going to burn yourself!” 

The branch lands in a pile of leaves and another burst of flames erupt at your feet. 

“They’re getting away,” you mutter. “We need a bigger fire!” 

You move to run to the forest for more kindling, but a solid arm around your middle stops you. “They’re gone, Y/N. Look, they’re gone.”

“No.” 

He angles your body towards the water, but you refuse to look out towards the darkening skyline.

“Honey, I need you to look at me,” Bucky’s soft voice breaks through your defenses. 

“No!” 

Bucky’s arms drop from you as if he’s been slapped. You take the opportunity to throw the palm tree branches you can reach into the already roaring fire. 

“Buck, help me,” you reach out for him. “Baby, please…” 

His face crumbles as your voice cracks. “You gotta stop. You’re going to set the whole fucking island on fire.” 

“I don’t care!”

“You’re going to kill yourself!”

“I don’t care!” You reach for a nearby branch and suddenly his arms are around your waist again.

You ball your hands up into fists and pound on his chest, willing him to let you go again. He drags you a safe distance away from the blaze and you start to scream. The lights on the water are nowhere to be seen. 

Bucky’s hands cup your cheeks and he forces you to look into his eyes. The normal crystal blue is marked with worry and you can’t hold back the sob that tears its way from your throat. You bury your face in his neck as you cry. 

He presses a soft kiss to your hairline and stokes his hands down your back, whispering soft words that you can’t make out. Your head is spinning when you realize you’re not crying anymore. Your eyes are trained on the horizon, only to find the night sky dissolving into an even darker ocean. 

“We’re never getting off this goddamned island,” you croak. 

“Don’t say that-” 

You pull back, a burst of rage filling you. “We might have if you had helped me.” 

He grits his teeth and his hands ball up at his sides. “Excuse me?” 

“You just stood there!”

“Well someone had to protect you from yourself,” he says. “You could’ve killed us...” 

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you! I knew what I was doing.” 

His hand circles your wrist and he brings your fingers into your line of sight. There are blisters forming on the tips and you reel back as pain shoots through them. 

“I’ve had worse,” you mutter. 

He snorts and you glare at him, pushing yourself off his lap. “Whatever, Human Torch. I might have some first aide skills, but charred skin is a little out of my wheelhouse.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You wouldn’t have been.” 

“Bullshit, Barnes. I’ve survived this long without you and your holier than thou attitude.” 

“This isn’t my fault!” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t been making puppy dog eyes and professing your undying love we would’ve been able to act faster! You didn’t let me up fast enough!” 

“That was before the goddamned boat blew its horn and you know it, princess.” 

“Don’t you fucking call me that!” 

“Don’t you fucking try to blame this on me! You were a more than willing participant in everything that happened. Except for maybe the cuddling… Was that too real for you?” 

“You are such a jackass!” 

You’re through the trees before he can even get to his feet. You sigh when you hear him stomping behind you. 

“Go back to the beach.” 

“No.” 

“Go back to the fucking beach.” 

“Ask nicer.” 

This stops you in your tracks and he smirks. He fucking smirks. 

Your shoulders tense and he leans against the tree beside him, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, sugar. Yell at me. Let it out.” 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” you seethe. “Believe me, I will. And not that it matters, but I can make it look like an accident.”

He snorts and you want to slap the smile off his face.

“Why do you think I got recruited by the team?” 

He lets out an annoyingly melodic laugh and a smile splits across your face uncontrollably. “You done?” 

“No.” 

“Oh joy.” 

“You don’t have to be here.” 

“I want to be.” 

“So I can threaten you more?” 

“Mm-hm. It’s actually pretty cute.” 

“You’ve got a weird kink, Buck.” 

He laughs again and you step closer to him. His arm curls around you and you sag into his chest. “What, you? Yeah, you’re pretty weird. And somewhat terrifying.” 

“Somewhat? C’mon I’m trying my hardest,” you say with a small smile. “Why can’t you just let me scare you away, huh?” 

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you squeeze your eyes closed as he cups your cheek in his palm. Fuck. 

“Look at me?” 

His voice is barely a whisper and you can’t help but look up at him. His lips are on yours and you force yourself closer to him, pushing every ounce of yourself into the kiss. He sighs against your lips and your arms work their way around his neck. 

You pant and pull back a fraction, breathing in his comforting, woodsy smell. “Bucky?” 

“Yeah?” 

Your lips move, but no words come. He smiles sadly and kisses your forehead, dropping his arms from your waist. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly. “It’s okay.” 

You force the tears to not spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m so sorry. I wish-”  

He squeezes your hand and shakes his head. “Don’t. Let’s go get some sleep, yeah?” 

You nod and follow him back to your camp, not understanding why your heart felt like it had been torn out and left to dry.

Part 9 (coming soon)

[straight-to-the-pain]

Our Guest

This is a continuation of the storyline where Sam accidentally kidnaps rescues a conditioned pet whumpee. I recommend reading Part 1 and Part 2 first so this makes a little more sense. TW: implied/referenced conditioning, torture and dehumanisation, very mildly implied/referenced non-con (but it’s really a lot more subtext than explicit, and I’m not planning to make it more so) 

Tag list (I’m just tagging the people who expressed an interest in seeing a continuation, but I’ll add or remove people as requested): @comfy-whumpee (thank you so much for helping me name Theo), @fallingstormphoenix, @theladyoffangorn, @haro-whumps, @comfortforthepain :) 

“So, what did Control say?” John asks, putting away his first aid kit. The boy is asleep now, and he’s glad that his guest is finally getting some much needed rest. Glad, too, that he gets a chance to discuss matters with Sam. 

“Just asked me if I got what they asked for,” comes the reply. “They didn’t mention the surprise captive at all, and I decided that it was best to not give more details than they asked for.” 

John agrees. It would do no good for the boy to be questioned, which is inevitably what their employers would want. He doubts that he could know anything truly useful. Best to just make him as comfortable as they can without pressing him with questions. Besides, John is all too familiar with the style of questioning their organisation would try to pursue, and they would not wish that upon anyone, especially not someone already as hurt as their new guest. 

“Alright, I think that’s for the best.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair in thought. “I think we have to get him checked out in a hospital. His wrist needs to be properly set if it is to have any chance of healing well.” He takes out a small notebook and flips through until he finds the number he’s looking for. “Here, call Leanne. She’s a friend of Alice. Works at the hospital. She’ll help us. Tell her we need her to take a look at someone and we’ll be with her soon. She won’t ask any questions.”

It would be so easy to just call the police and make them sort out this mess, but John knows better than that. They can’t risk exposing all the work they’ve done, the operation that they’re running. Whoever the man they’re looking into really is, he’s done a lot more than torture some innocent soul, and his criminal connections will lead them to even more valuable targets. They can’t sabotage that by involving some local cops in something that’s far above their pay grade. 

“Alright, I’ll do that then,” Sam replies, not quite able to meet their friend’s eye. There’s shame in their expression, the remorse of causing more damage without even meaning to. “I really am sorry. I wish I hadn’t…” It’s not John they should be apologising to, but maybe he’s the only one who can understand, who can absolve them of some of their guilt. 

“I wasn’t even thinking. It was just instinct.” The boy had reached up to them in such an intimate way, a gesture that had only ever meant danger, a threat to the very fibre of their being, and there was no room to think, only the pure panic of touch and a sharp twist of his wrist. 

“It happened. You can’t take that back, but you can work on making things better,” John replies, reasonable as ever, and Sam feels some of the tension gripping them melt away. “The first step is to pick up that phone and get our guest the care he needs.” That they can do, so they force all other thoughts out of their mind, shoving any memories that try to cloud their judgement away, and they dial the number. 

~

The boy wakes to pain and the weight of someone sitting next to them. He’s on a soft surface, and the first thought in his mind is that it’s his Master, back for more, but when he opens his eyes, he sees the face of the man who took him. John, he reminds himself. That’s what he was instructed to call him, and he’s careful not to forget. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” John’s voice is soft, and he looks concerned, though the boy can’t imagine why. After all, it was his colleague who had delivered punishment, and he had suffered the consequences as quietly and obediently as he could. He has learnt his lesson and he desperately wants it to be known that he won’t be making the same mistake again. 

“Good, John,” he replies, and he isn't lying. The pain has slowly crept back into his consciousness, and he feels the throbbing in his wrist, and the less insistent ache in his ankle, but he can cope with it. There’s a distant ache of bruises, some fresher, some fading, but he doesn’t remember a time without the background noise of pain. He’s comfortable though, and he’s been allowed to rest, and he wants John to know just how grateful he is. 

“Glad to hear it,” John smiles slightly, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re going to take you to a doctor, a good friend of mine, just so she can set your wrist and check you over. You’re going to be okay, I promise.” 

“Thank you, John.” He can’t remember the last time he’s seen a proper doctor, but it makes sense that his new owners would want him to be checked out. He hopes they don’t find anything that would make him unwanted. He so desperately hopes that they keep him, but he fears that asking such a question will only anger them. 

John sighs slightly, shaking his head. “Please, there’s no need to call me John every time. There’s no need to call me anything special, alright? I’m not in charge of you. I’m just a friend.” 

‘If John’s not in charge, then who is?’ the boy wonders, but he doesn’t dare ask. He’s been introduced to his Master’s friends before, made to serve them and please them just as he was meant to please his Master, but John doesn’t seem to want anything of the sort from him. ‘Why was I taken if not to be used?’ he wonders. Maybe this isn’t about him at all. Maybe he is just a pawn, being used against his Master. 

“I understand,” he responds, cringing slightly at the lack of honorifics. He can’t help but expect a punishment for lack of respect, but John just smiles and nods, and he lets himself relax just a fraction. 

“So you know who I am, but I still have no idea what to call you,” John begins. “What’s your name?” 

His name… His Master didn’t like to use it, preferring to just refer to him as his toy or his pet, and he’s worked hard to shove it away into the darkest corners of his mind. After all, a wretched traitor like him didn’t deserve a proper name. But he couldn’t make himself forget it, a part of him holding onto the word like a last little fragment of who he used to be. 

“Theo,” he murmurs, almost too quietly to be heard, like he’s sharing a forbidden secret. “People used to call me Theo.” He can’t remember the last time he’s said it out loud. Flashes of memory invade his mind. ‘My name is Theo, and I’m not your goddamn pet,’ he had yelled once, a long time ago, and then there was pain, so much pain that it hurts to think of it. He never wants to feel so much pain again. 

“Theo. That’s a nice name.” John says his name like it’s a gift, and it’s been so long since Theo heard it spoken like that, so softly and with so much care that he worries he might start crying. But crying isn’t allowed, so he swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back the tears threatening to spill over. “Tell me, Theo, how did you end up in that place?” 

It’s such an earnest question, that Theo can’t help but answer, not even pausing to wonder if it’s a trick. He takes a deep breath and starts talking. “I… I was sixteen when I first joined the gang. I thought it would be fun, that I’d get to earn some money. My friends were already involved and they kept telling me how great it was. I guess I didn’t have much else to do. 

“I never… never really knew my parents but the people there, they felt like family.” He pauses a little, looking up at John, unsure if he should continue. His voice is scratchy from disuse and he’s hardly answering the question, but John looks interested, so he goes on. 

“They gave me so much and I… I messed up so badly. It was just a little at first, just a few bags of coke, a few bills here and there, but nobody ever noticed and I guess I got brave.” He actually laughs slightly at that, at the vague notion of having ever possessed a thing like bravery. How stupid it was to think he could have got away with it. To think that he deserved to go unpunished. “I guess I got stupid too. Took too much and got caught.” 

“They told me that I had to… repay my debt and that I belong - belonged - to them now,” he corrects himself. “And then there was… well I was given to my Master. I did odd jobs for him sometimes, passed along messages, took care of his guests. He liked me to… please him. Said I was his stress relief.” He wants to say that he would offer that to John too, anything to be taken care of, to be protected. He doesn’t want to go back to the gang and it’s not like anyone else would want him. He doesn’t have any real skills, doesn’t have any real friends. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about him, not unless you want to,” John cuts in gently, reaching out a hand to gently brush over Theo’s cropped hair. Theo leans into the touch, even though he’s not sure he’s deserved it, but he can’t help it. John’s hands are so soft and so tender, he thinks he would do anything for him to keep petting his hair like this. “Sometimes we make bad choices that lead us to bad places, but there’s always a way out.” 

“I deserved it,” he interjects. He knows he shouldn’t interrupt but he has to make sure John understands. He isn’t someone who should be given pity. He still hasn’t repaid his debt. “I made so many mistakes, I-” 

“No, you didn’t,” John cuts through his stream of panic. “Nobody deserves to be hurt like that.” He says it with so much conviction that a part of Theo really wants to believe it too. He wishes he could let it. 

“What… what do you want from me?” he finally blurts out. It’s the question he’s been thinking since Sam dragged him out that window. He has no idea what the answer will be, but however bad it is, he knows he would rather know now than find out later. It doesn’t matter what it is. He’ll do it. “I can do whatever you want,” he adds in a hurry. “I can do chores, I can please you however you’d like. You can hurt me, if it pleases you,” he continues, though he’s not sure John would get any enjoyment out of that. Sam maybe… “Please, let me stay. I’ll do anything. Please don’t… don’t sell me.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You can stay here as long as you want. You’re our guest and we don’t need anything in return, okay?” He continues to pet Theo’s hair as he tells him this, and it’s the most reassuring thing he’s heard in years. He wants to take a snapshot of the feeling, to treasure it forever in some hidden corner of his heart. 

“When you’re ready, we might need to ask you some questions about the people who kept you, so we can make sure they get what they deserve for what they’ve done to you,” he adds, but Theo knows it’s not a threat towards him. John seems to really hate his former Master, and if that’s how he feels, Theo can try to hate him too, for John. 

“But for now, we just want to get you checked out and make sure you’re okay. Will you let us take you to the hospital?” He tilts his head and Theo realises that he really could say no, and John would listen. Theo nods. 

[iffeelscouldkill]

How to Be a Superhero Love Interest

Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming/Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker (Spideychelle)

Summary: Twin confusing things are happening to MJ. One, she's getting an unusual amount of attention from their friendly neighbourhood superhero, Spider-Man. And two, she might be starting to develop a crush on her ridiculous dork friend and teammate Peter Parker. More to the point, she thinks he might actually... like her back?

Being MJ, it isn't long before she manages to put two and two together. After that, it's just a matter of figuring out how to be a superhero love interest.

Author’s Note: I finished Part 1 of my Spideychelle fanfic and decided to post it to Tumblr! You can also read it on AO3.

Peter Parker is obviously hiding something.

Michelle prides herself on her sharp observation skills, but it doesn’t take a person with any observation skills whatsoever to know that Peter Parker has a secret. He is, in point of fact, one of the worst, most obvious secret-havers in the history of having a secret. And in that list, she includes Mr. Medley, the librarian, who is clearly and indiscreetly having an affair with Ms. Burns from the science department. (He’s forgiven her more than a few overdue fines for keeping that one quiet).

But even though Peter is obviously hiding something, with his disappearances and his inconsistent excuses and his sketchy and conveniently vague “Stark Industries internship” that goes far beyond anything that a normal internship would require, Michelle is not going to investigate further. Because in the course of being observant, she has discovered that people don’t like it when she confronts them with her observations.

“God, Michelle, you’re like a hound dog,” her older sister, Evelyn, had groaned the last time Michelle interrogated her about why she’d come home late, reeking of cigarette smoke. “No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

“I don’t want any friends,” Michelle retorted flatly. More to the point, she doesn’t need friends, because friends make you compromise your beliefs in order to fit in. Michelle is her own person. And without friends, she also has way more free time.

Sure, Michelle has people that she’s on friendly terms with, whom she refers to as ‘friends’ for the sake of seeming socially acceptable. She sits near Peter Parker and Ned Leeds at lunch because their weirdness means that everyone else keeps their distance, and she doesn’t mind being associated with them by proxy. They’re good guys.

But for most of the time, when she walks between classes and when she walks to and from school in the morning and the evening, Michelle is alone.

It’s during one of these times, as she’s walking home from school, that she looks up and sees Spider-Man. He’s swinging her way, an acrobatic red-and-blue figure getting larger as he swoops from building to building.

The sight of him triggers a kind of falling feeling in her gut, and the world spins briefly as she’s taken back to DC and the terror of staring up at a shaking, collapsing building with her friends inside, knowing there was nothing she could do to help them.

But she also remembers a lithe, costumed figure impossibly scaling the side of the building, defying helicopters and threats to get inside and save them.

As Spider-Man swings closer, Michelle raises one hand and waves at him. She’s just one person in the throngs of people crowding the sidewalk; she doesn’t expect him to notice her. But to her surprise, at the peak of one of his swings, Spider-Man waves back.

The action causes him to fire his next web just a fraction too late and he fumbles it, missing the overhang he was aiming for and attaching to a window ledge lower down. As a result, his next swing takes him too low, and with a comical yell of shock Spider-Man goes crashing into the side of a dumpster. Michelle hears a series of clatters and a muffled, “Shit!”

She can’t help it – she giggles.

As Michelle continues on her way, she doesn’t notice a red and blue figure crawling up the side of a nearby building and perching on the rooftop, watching her go.

Michelle has a strict policy of non-intervention.

She watches, she learns, but she does not interfere. Mostly because she doesn’t care, or claims not to care, about the petty disputes her fellow students get into over whose job it was supposed to be to take the chemistry equipment to Mr. Cobbwell after class (even though she knows it was Lucy’s job, not Betty’s like Lucy claims), or when Ms. Beckett blames Jayden for writing dick jokes on the chalkboard in their English classroom when the handwriting is clearly Trisha’s.

Even on those rare occasions when she does care, she keeps her mouth shut and saves her energy for the arguments that matter. As an activist, she’s learned to pick her battles; you have to, otherwise you wind up angry and burnt out, of no use to anyone. And she’s definitely not about to start fighting anyone else’s for them.

And yet in spite of all that, when she hears Flash call Peter “Penis Parker” for the fiftieth time, she snaps.

“You know what, Flash? If you took all the time that you spend coming up with supremely unoriginal nicknames to insult people whose intelligence makes you feel insecure and channelled it into actually studying, you might be worth more to the Decathlon team than just dead weight.”

A dead silence follows her words. They’re in homeroom, five minutes before the first bell, and Flash is half-turned in his seat with one arm resting on the back of his chair, the cocky smirk sliding off his face and giving way to taut anger.

Peter, in the desk behind Flash, and Ned, next to him, are both staring at her gobsmacked, mouths hanging open.

Dimly, Michelle wonders if she just compromised her position as Declathon team captain by insulting a member of the team, but she doesn’t care. She flicks a curl of hair out of her face, plunging on before Flash can muster a response.  

“Oh but go on – insult me, too; I can take it. Because deep down I think you’re just scared of us. You see, Flash, unlike you, we aren’t afraid to be individuals. So we won’t go trailing around after you trying to kiss your ass. What a shame.” And she finishes by drawing an imaginary tear down one cheek.

There is muffled snickering from around the room. Flash’s face is slowly turning purple with indignant rage; he opens and closes his mouth, but before he can get any of the words out, the bell rings.

The tension in the room breaks, and the noise level immediately rises as people start to laugh and chatter more openly. Michelle allows herself a small victory smirk. Flash is still staring at her, but she holds his gaze, unblinking, refusing to be the first to look away, until Ms. Gardner sweeps into the room and calls for quiet.

Two seats away, Ned is grinning at her like she’s Christmas, his birthday and the Fourth of July come all at once. And Peter—

She glances over at Peter and immediately looks away, her cheeks flushing, because he’s giving her this look that she’s never seen before on another person.

It’s respect, fondness, amusement, and admiration all rolled into one. Even when Michelle’s not looking at Peter, she can still feel his gaze on her.

She stares down at the table top, aimlessly twiddling a pen and wondering why her stomach suddenly feels so weird. This is Peter Parker. Peter Parker, of the infamous puppy-dog crush on Liz Allan, which he’s definitely not over even though she moved out of state a month ago.

Peter Parker, whose brain-to-mouth filter is non-existent, whose love for science is matched only by his love for Lego and Star Wars, and who spends all his time when he’s not at school sticking together said Legos in his bedroom with his equally dorky friend, Ned Leeds, and coming up with weird new elements for the periodic table.

Ms. Gardner begins taking attendance, and Michelle answers automatically to her name. Peter eventually looks away from her, which is a relief, but her heart is still going at twice its usual rate.

It could be leftover adrenaline from the confrontation with Flash, but Michelle knows better. Flash doesn’t scare her. It has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the boy sitting in the desk behind him.

“You should’ve seen the look on Flash’s face! I thought he was going to bust a kidney!” Ned crows at lunch.

“Why a kidney?” Peter asks him.

“I dunno, but he nearly did.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and wishes she’d gone to the library like she originally planned. She’d thought that scooting her chair even further than usual away from Peter and Ned would have given them the hint that she doesn’t want to talk, but Ned had simply sat right down next to her with his lunch tray. Peter had hovered awkwardly, like he was torn between respecting her wish for space and sitting next to his best friend, and eventually followed suit.

“It was awesome,” Ned repeats reverently. “And Flash couldn’t even say a thing! I think he’s scared of you.”

Michelle snorts, though he’s right; Flash hasn’t said a word to her since homeroom, hasn’t even glanced in her direction. She isn’t going to kid herself that she’s safe, though; they have Decathlon practice right after school.

She glances over at Peter, and finds him giving her that look again. He’s also not saying anything, which from a normal person, would be weird. From Peter “motor-mouth” Parker, it might just be a sign that the world is ending.

She feels like she might claw out of her skin if she doesn’t do something, so finally she demands, “What, Peter?”

“Thanks, MJ,” he replies, with warm sincerity in every syllable.

The feeling in her stomach multiplies by about a hundred. Goddamn it.

Michelle enters the hall for Decathlon practice that afternoon with a poised calm that masks the apprehension she feels underneath. She’s not afraid of Flash, but if he tells Mr. Harrington what she said about him earlier, she could lose the team captaincy.

She’s not sure exactly why he got under her skin so badly earlier. She doesn’t like bullies, true, and she’s long thought that Flash needed to be taken down a peg. She’s sure that most of homeroom, for all that they pretend to like Flash, were secretly rooting for him to go down. But even so, the intensity of the anger that she’d felt in that moment surprised her.

Ned waves at her cheerily from the edge of the hall, which she ignores. She glances over and sees someone talking to Mr. Harrington, and her stomach lurches – but it’s not Flash, it’s Peter. He’s saying something earnestly (which is pretty much his default setting), gesturing widely with his hands while Mr. Harrington nods.

Michelle walks past them and goes up to the stage, where Abe and Cindy are mucking around. Flash is sitting off to the side, but he’s completely silent, and doesn’t look at her.

“All right, guys,” she says, and even without raising her voice, the group instantly quiets down. “Let’s run some drills.”

She tries not to pay attention to whatever Peter is still discussing with Mr. Harrington as she drills the team on general knowledge questions, but she can’t help but hear when Mr. Harrington calls Flash over to them. He looks sulky as he walks over, and only looks more so at whatever Mr. Harrington is telling him.

Peter, meanwhile, has wandered over to join the group running drills. Ned gets up to let Peter take his seat and his buzzer.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Peter,” says Michelle sarcastically. It’s no big deal really, but she wants to try and make him squirm a little bit.

“Sorry, MJ,” says Peter with a contrition that only makes her narrow her eyes more. With Liz as captain, he bailed on nationals with less remorse than he’s showing her right now. “I just had to clear something up with Mr. Harrington.”

Michelle lets it go, but after practice she corners him before he can disappear out the door in point five seconds like he usually does.

“So, what were you talking about with Mr. Harrington that was so important? And what did it have to do with Flash?”

Flash had also rejoined the group about two minutes after Peter, looking mutinous. She hadn’t said anything, and neither had he, even to make his customary snide remarks about Peter’s ‘Stark internship’. However, he’d answered several questions in the quick-fire round, and even got most of them right.

Peter grins at her sheepishly. “Well, y’know, I just wanted to clear up a couple things with him, about earlier.”

“Earlier,” Michelle repeats.

“Yeah. I figured Flash might try and get you in trouble with Mr. Harrington over what you said, ‘cause it was about the Decathlon team, so I wanted to try and make sure you didn’t. Get in trouble, I mean. So I just told him that there was an argument, you stood up for me and might’ve said some kinda harsh stuff, but you were defending me. And he said it was okay.”

“Just ‘okay’?” says Michelle.

“Well, he said it was between you guys and that you and Flash could sort it out between yourselves, without involving the Decathlon team,” Peter says with a diffident shrug. “So, y’know. No worries!”

Michelle treats Peter to a long, hard look before punching him lightly in the arm. “I don’t need you to play the hero for me,” she tells him.

“You’re welcome, MJ,” he replies with a brilliant grin.

The problem with breaking her policy of non-intervention is that when she does, Michelle always winds up getting involved. With people.

To be more specific, she thinks that she might actually be becoming friends with Peter and Ned. Not ‘on friendly terms’ friends, but actual friends.

After that day, she somehow never goes back to sitting two or three seats away from them at lunch. At first, she still keeps her distance conversationally, silently reading her book and ignoring Peter and Ned’s chatter, but then she finds herself somehow getting drawn into one of their dumb debates about which Star Wars movie is the best (Rogue One, obviously).

After that they somehow get on to debating the Lord of the Rings and Eowyn’s characterisation in the books versus the movies (Michelle has very strong opinions; Tolkien is great, but he sucked at writing women) and whether or not another set of Harry Potter movies was a good idea. Michelle is slightly unnerved to find that she has a lot in common with these dorks.

Peter and Michelle keep a whispered debate going all the way through History and up to the final bell, with Peter contending that creators should have the right to keep making new works in their franchise, and Michelle arguing that they should release the IP into the public domain so that fans can have a go at making their own versions. (“But then we wouldn’t have Rogue One, and you said it was your favourite!” Peter needles her. “We also probably would’ve got a diverse Star Wars a lot sooner,” Michelle retorts, and grins when his face falls.) She’s smiling as she says goodbye to them, and she carries on smiling all the way home.

Maybe having actual-friends isn’t so bad after all.

She’s wrong-footed, though, when Peter invites her over to watch Firefly with him and Ned at his house two days later. Ned stayed back after Geography class to talk to the teacher, so it’s just her and Peter at their usual lunch table. Peter has set his tray down next to hers but isn’t sitting down yet, nervously shifting on the spot as he looks down at her.

“…And so I thought it might be cool if maybe, you know, you came over and watched it with us? My aunt’s cool, she won’t mind. You could stay for dinner,” Peter rambles.

Michelle opens her mouth, unsure what to say. Sitting together at lunch and arguing about geek culture is one thing, but going over to someone’s house, meeting their mom (well, aunt) and staying for dinner is something else entirely. She’s a solitary person by nature, and she needs her time alone after spending the whole day around people.

Plus, she can’t help thinking it would be awkward with just the three of them – she doesn’t know them that well, not really – and it would make this whole “situation” with Peter, the one where they keep accidentally catching each other’s eyes for too long and then blushing and awkwardly looking away, so much worse. It’s bad enough at school, but in close quarters with no good escape route? Ugh. Recipe for disaster.

“I actually have this book that I really need to finish for English-” Michelle starts.

“Oh, yeah, no, of course, I get it – though I mean, you could bring it with you?” Peter offers.

“-and I have to be home by 8 o’clock anyway on a school night, my older sister is kind of strict,” she finishes over him.

It’s not a lie, but it’s a half-truth; Evelyn never holds her to the 8 o’clock curfew that their parents set, and she wouldn’t care if Michelle went out for the evening or stayed over a friend’s house. Michelle just hasn’t ever wanted to before.

“Sure, yeah, right…” Peter says, looking for all the world like a puppy whose tail she just trod on. “Maybe some other time.”

He sits down, and Michelle returns awkwardly to her lunch. Fortunately, Ned arrives before the tense silence can drag out much longer.

“Hey, guys! Sorry that took so long. So, did you ask her yet?” he says to Peter. Michelle’s face grows warm.

“Yeah, uh, I did,” says Peter in a despondent voice, not looking at her. Ned somehow fails to pick up on his tone.

“Great! So, we’ll see you later?”

“Actually, I have a- uh-” Michelle begins.

“She has stuff to do, and, um, her mom-”

“Sister-”

“Sister, yeah, sorry, is kinda strict.”

“Oh.” Ned looks between the two of them, then shrugs. “That sucks.”

Michelle leaves five minutes later, mumbling something about having to go to the library.

She doesn’t know where all this guilt has suddenly come from, but it sits in her stomach all day. The thought of another evening spent by herself in her room, reading, suddenly seems cold and empty rather than appealing.

She fidgets distractedly all through Spanish, and eventually pulls out her copy of Brave New World and skimreads the last few pages under her desk. Then as the bell rings, she pushes her way through the crowd of students in the hallway and hurries to catch up with Peter and Ned.

“-sure she didn’t mean it like that, dude, she just-” Ned cuts off mid-sentence when he sees her. “Oh, Michelle. Hey.”

“Hey,” Michelle says awkwardly.

There’s a pause, during which she resolutely forces herself to swallow her pride, then goes on,

“So I managed to finish my book during Spanish, and I was wondering if the offer to watch Firefly with you guys is...”

“Yeah!” Peter interrupts her eagerly. “Yeah, if you’re sure your sister won’t-”

“I already texted her, so it probably won’t be a big deal,” says Michelle. In fact, Evelyn’s reply to her off-handed text about spending the evening at a friend’s house had been,

what???? you???? who died and gave you a social life???

She’d decided to interpret that as an okay.

They go to Peter’s house, and she manages not to embarrass herself in front of his aunt (who is surprisingly young, and also endearingly pleased to meet another friend of her nephew’s).

Up in his room, which is just as nerdy as she had predicted, they sit shoulder to shoulder and watch Firefly on Ned’s laptop. Michelle has seen the show half a dozen times before, and she keeps up a running commentary of random trivia and dry remarks about the actors’ terrible Mandarin, which entertains the two boys to no end.

All in all, it’s not a terrible evening at all, and when Peter suggests that they hang out again on Friday night to finish the second half of the series, she doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

One problem with being friends with Peter and Ned is that it becomes a lot harder for Michelle to ignore the fact that Peter is hiding something.

But she manages to forget about it for a little while, right up until she gets to Peter’s house for the second half of the Friday marathon and Ned answers the door.

“Oh, uh, Peter had to cancel on tonight. Something came up.”

Michelle frowns. “He didn’t say anything at school,” she points out. In fact, Peter had been looking forward to their evening, and had checked with her at least three times to make sure she was still coming over. What was so important that he had to bail at 5pm on a Friday?

“Yeah, no, it was really last-minute,” Ned explains, although Michelle doesn’t really buy it.

“So… what are you doing here?” Michelle asks. The ‘this isn’t actually your house’ is implied, though to be fair, she doesn’t know anything about Ned’s home situation, so maybe half-living at Peter’s house is normal for him.

“Uh, May invited me to stay for dinner,” Ned says awkwardly.

“Oh.”

There’s a pause, during which Michelle tells herself not to be stupid; of course she’s not on the sort of terms yet that would see her invited to a guy’s house when he’s not even home. That’s lifelong-best-friend shit.

“Well, I’d better get going, then,” says Michelle, and turns to go.

“Hey, um-” Ned calls before she can get too far, and Michelle waits. “Do you… wanna stay for dinner, too? I’m sure May won’t mind, she always makes extra…”

Michelle half spins around. “I wouldn’t want to bother her, really, I’ll just head home and-”

“It’s fine, I swear – May? Can Michelle stay for dinner, too?”

So, reluctantly, Michelle steps inside just as Peter’s Aunt May comes into the front hall, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “Oh, Michelle! How good to see you again!”

She smiles, but Michelle thinks there’s something a little strained and brittle about it. “Of course you can stay for dinner.”

Michelle mentally instructs herself to stop being in observation mode; she’s been invited over as a guest, she needs to stop analysing things. “Thanks so much for having me, May. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Really, I insist! Peter should be back later, anyway; he just had to, uh, run an errand.”

‘Run an errand’? Michelle thinks. Clearly being a terrible and unconvincing liar runs in the family. But she says nothing; it’s none of her business, and whatever this weird secret is that Peter has, at least his aunt is in the know.

Dinner is a strange experience. Ned and May both seem on edge, and Ned keeps checking his phone the whole time. Occasionally Michelle will have her head bent over her food and at the edge of her vision, catch him exchanging looks with May, silently communicating something.

She could try to fill the silence, but she’s never really seen the point of small talk. Occasionally May will seem to realise that they’re acting weird and brightly inject a question about school into the silence, which Michelle answers as normally as she can. All in all, it’s sort of a relief when dinner is over.

Michelle offers to help wash up, but May waves her off. “Don’t be silly, you’re the guest! I got this. You two go upstairs and watch a movie or something.”

Ned looks at her uncertainly. Michelle likes Ned well enough, but it’s not the same dynamic without Peter around, and she can already imagine how awkward it would be sitting down to watch a movie with just the two of them. “That’s okay; I should really be getting home. Thanks again for dinner.”

Ned, obviously relieved, offers to see her out.

“So, uh, see you at school tomorrow,” he says as she shoulders her bag.

“Monday,” Michelle corrects him dryly. “Tomorrow’s the weekend.”

“Oh yeah! Right.”

“Tell Peter I said hi, when he gets back from… Whatever it is he’s doing.”

Michelle and Ned look at each other for a moment. Michelle can see in his eyes that he’s waiting for her to ask the obvious question of just where the hell Peter is and what he’s doing. A big part of her wants to ask. But she doesn’t want to hear another flimsy lie, and besides, she promised herself that she wouldn’t try and figure this out.

Even though she really wants to.

“Night, Ned.”

[lordprofdrnovesha]

27

I didn’t think I’d live this long; thought by now I’d have given up and got bored of everything. But there’s always been just enough to give hope, to be strung along, led on by Life to believe something’ll make it all worthwhile - some moment when I could look back and forwards and say, “Yes.” So there’s a fair berth between me and the Ultimate. And I know those who’re closer. I think that’s another thing: if I killed myself, it’d hurt them the most. And I can already hear the others, the spectators, the observers, the critics, lauding it as a sign of how broken we are; as if I were nothing but a story, zilch but a fucking prop to their deep, intense, world-weary, seen-some-shit bullshit or a guilt-bomb to be dropped in arguments. Dead, I’d be forgotten or utilised. Alive, I still have some control over my name, my self. So, out of pride, out of spite, out of curiosity, out of guilt, out of duty, out of hope, I’m still here. But I know that’s a cop-out for an opt-out. Surely, a love for life should motivate living.

 So, in thinking I’d be dead by 28, I haven’t given much care for being with people. People come, people go. People are interesting and frustrating and different. I played the part every time - out of duty. Just doing the polite thing and being what I needed to be to mesh in. My brother once said that I needed to make myself more relatable. Like a jigsaw failing to click with the other pieces, I omitted and hacked and tacked on what was necessary to fit in. I wish I knew to what extent others do the same. Are we not all lying to each other? I mean, to an extent one makes the effort to be ‘accessible’, to indeed be like puzzle pieces clicking or cogs meshing, for that sweet high of being part of something or having someone. But to what extent should one bother? Speaking the same language, sure? Probing for common interests? Observing Grice’s maxims, playing the dance of being a good chat, speaking in the right pitch and tone, being mindful of one’s facial expressions, being duly informed and present to contribute to the conversation in novel and substantial ways as the rhythm of it might demand. But more than what you do is what you don’t do: you do not come barging in and say what you think, you do not roll in, bleeding and vomiting, on the dancefloor. If you must invite someone to your home, you give them a tour and walk them through it, square foot by square foot, and are always mindful of their fatiguing feet as they so very cautiously or unabashedly explore your home. Lock what doors you need; design the tour to best impress guests. Don’t show your best room first; anything thereafter will be a series of increasingly disappointing failures. Don’t show your worst; folks’ll just skedaddle. But who cares? Is it really worth the hassle? Playing The Game: saying the right things, demonstrating one’s skills, putting out feelers and desperately hoping for likes, smiles, matches and one-ups, a reaction, a connection, a validation. But of course most of this is unconscious - instincts either ingrained or refined - and is as easy as walking. But, like walking a certain way to make people get out of your way, you can tell when someone knows what they’re doing. When they do not speak to you in order to connect, to reach out, but instead speak to you to impress, to sell, to impose, to uncover, to persuade, to coerce, to pressure, to investigate, to fuck with, to mess with, to play with, to subtly threaten, to plant or reinforce an idea; to manipulate. When they do this, I find it icky and gross. I’ve heard conversations that *taste* bad. You ever had or heard a conversation so disgusting that you threw up a little? Content aside, just the style of it. I do hate like the very Gates of Death he who says one thing but hides in his heart another. It’s the giveaway. The eyes held just a fraction of a second too long, the wry millimetre extra of smile - unnoticable to them (no strain to their muscles) but all the goddamn in-your-face Vesuvius-exploding obvious to anyone watching. So fucking impressed with themselves. So goddamn condescending. And the worst part is that they can’t be called out on this. Denials all around. Gaslighting, it’s called I learned, when it’s turned on you and you’re being paranoid or projecting or have face blindness or emotionally deficient or plain emotional and blinded. Fuck playing The Game; and this idiotic idea/assumption that anyone who doesn’t play The Game is a simpleton, not playing because they can’t. Some people speak naked. And some people speak wearing armour, an arsenal in hand. Who could possibly be worth this nonsense? To frolic hand-in-hand? Or to dance? To wrestle? To play chess? Jesus Christ, how many else tire of talking? Isn’t it just so fucking exhausting? So gross and disgusting to have the bad stain-taste of limp, rotten words slide past your tongue?

 But The Game is not synonymous with Conversation itself, only a very popular and very much advertised subset. Conversation can be a dance, can be a swing back-and-forth, can be leapfrogging, can be a game. And when you hear it, you can smell it, you can feel it. I don’t have much practice with this either (again, years aloof and vagabonding and the disinclination to manipulate anyone) but since I plan to be alive now and, ideally, not live it alone, if I wanna reach out, click, build paintings and clockwork, I guess I’d better git good, son.

[highwindhq]

Wedding Crasher

Author’s Note: This is the result of a writer’s sprint and some red wine. Enjoy...?

"STOP!"

Aranea's voice rang out across the hall louder and far more assertive than she expected. She cleared her throat and took a breath in and out, looking at Ignis standing at the alter with his husband-to-be, Dino.

"Stop," Aranea tried again. She started walking down the aisle toward the two men, gaining resolve with each step. Yes, this was the right thing to do.

"Aranea?" Ignis said in disbelief. "I take it this isn't your way of accepting your wedding invitation?"

"Not exactly," Aranea said.

Dino looked her up and down, suspicion slowly building on his face.

"Hey, it's that broad we had that awkward run-in with at the coffee shop the other day," Dino said.

"Broad?" Aranea raised her brows as she arrived at the foot of the altar. "Excuse me Dino, if that’s your real name, but I have a heartfelt speech to make."

She turned to Ignis and stepped up on the altar, shoving Dino aside.

"Ignis Scientia," she said. "I know I haven't always been the best to you. I haven't been an easy person to love. But you know what, neither are you."

The crowd murmured in confusion.

"Aranea, what are you doing?” Ignis said. “We talked about this. We decided that this was for the best..."

"Yeah, well, I decided it isn't. Marrying this asshole over here isn't going to make you happen, and it's my duty to stop you."

"Hey, hey, hey, lady—" Dino objected, and was swiftly muffled by Aranea's hand.

“And I suppose you think that you're the one who will make me happy," Ignis responded.

"No," Aranea said. "I think I'm going to make you miserable. At least some of the time. But I'm also going to make you laugh, and wail, and be excited and exhilarated, and scream my goddamn name. I'm going to give you the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. But I'm also going to give you a kind of love that this schmuck over here doesn't have the capacity to feel."

Aranea stopped for dramatic effect and looked around at the crowd. Half of them were looking at her with teary eyes, while the other half threw a thousand daggers in her direction.

"Ignis, say something," she said after the silence had gone far too long.

"Aranea..." Ignis looked at her, then at Dino, then back at Aranea again. "Aranea, the truth is that I have made my decision. I have chosen to be with the one who I feel will suit me best... for life. Not just for the moment."

"I see," Aranea said, looking down at the floor for the first time, losing her confidence. "Then I guess I should go..."

"You may stay as my guest, if you wish."

"Nah, I'm good," she waved her hand at him as she turned around and starting walking back down the aisle, doing everything in her power to hold her head high and steel her gaze. This is not the moment that she's going to start crying.

Aranea heard the processions start back up as she was near the exit of the hall. She paused for a fraction of a second, just in case, but only heard the continuation of the impending nuptials. And then...

"Aranea, wait!"

She heard footsteps walking toward her, getting faster and faster, then speeding down the aisle as she whipped around and saw Ignis grinding to a halt in front of her.

"Let's go!" he cried, grabbing her hand and dragging her after him out of the hall.

Aranea didn't ask questions. She just followed. They ran out of the building—practically jumped through the doors—and down the street. They ran until they came across the Regalia and Aranea instructed him to jump in. She turned the car on (which she had "borrowed" from Noctis for this exact occasion) and sped away.

They drove for miles until they were well out of the city. They did not say a word. Finally, they pulled over at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Both were still breathing heavily.

"So," Aranea said.

"So," Ignis echoed her.

"Here we are."

"Here we are."

"Are you gonna keep repeating everything I say?"

"Are you gonna—I'm just joking."

They laughed awkwardly and the silence returned again. Then Ignis turned to Aranea, placed his hand on her cheek, and pulled her to him. They kissed deeply while she grabbed him by the hair, pulling him even closer. He did the same to her—he always did love her hair. More than Dino's, that's for sure.

Aranea pressed a button to pull the top of the Regalia back up, but Ignis reached out and halted the process.

"No," he said. "Let them watch."

"Who exactly? We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Right. I suppose I was going for comedic effect."

"There are far better skills that you could be putting to use right now.”

Aranea pulled him back in and kissed him hard. In between her breaths, she just barely managed to say one thing: "I love you, you pompous dandy."

"I love you too, you crazy harpy."

[thatmasquedgirl]

The Aging Soulmate AU

For the last couple of days we’ve been sort of collaboratively been working on this, so thought I’d compile it in one place that wasn’t so long.

With new stuff because duh.  (It was quiet at work today so of course I thought about how I’d reply to the last things.)

Tagging everyone who displayed interest at the end.

Based on this post:

AU where people age until they reach 18 and then stop aging until they meet their soul mate so they can grow old together.

Oh look at that.  I have stumbled upon a soulmate AU that I would actually write for Arrow.  Huh.

@felicity-said--yes said: I will give all the money i have to write Arrow like this.

Could you imagine the centuries old protector Vigilante of Star City, who meets the barely 25 hacktivist? oh my god, i seriously wish i could write…

OH MY GOD DID YOU JUST READ MY MIND BECAUSE THAT WAS SO WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THAT.

AND TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, YES.  YES I CAN IMAGINE.

UP THE AGE THOUGH BECAUSE I DO NOT NEED THAT MUCH TEENAGE ANGST FUELING THE WORLD.  THAT IS LIKE MY HIGH SCHOOL NIGHTMARE.  NO, THEY STOP AGING AT… 25.  BETTER.  LESS ANGST AND SELF-IDENTITY CRISES.

BUT JUST PICTURE IT, OKAY.  STARLING CITY HAS HAD A VIGILANTE FOR CENTURIES.  HE ISN’T LOVED, BUT INSTEAD FEARED BECAUSE HE’S A BRUTAL, VIOLENT MAN.  SEASON 1 OLIVER ALL OVER AGAIN.  HE DOES IT BECAUSE IT’S LITERALLY ALL HE HAS.  ALL HIS FAMILY IS GONE AND HE’S UTTERLY ALONE IN THE WORLD.  EVERYONE HAS FORGOTTEN OLIVER QUEEN.  AND HE’S SO TIRED AND JADED AND EXHAUSTED BY LIVING.

IT’S NOT THAT HE WANTS TO DIE.   IT’S THAT HE DOESN’T CARE.  SO HE TAKES CRAZY RISKS BECAUSE HE JUST DOESN’T GIVE A FLYING FIG ANYMORE.

ENTER A MYSTERIOUS CYBER HACKER WHO COMES IN AND STARTS STEALING FROM HIS TARGETS.  BY THE TIME HE FINDS THEM, THE RISING STAR THE PRESS IS CALLING FIREWALL HAS ALREADY BEEN THERE.  AND IT PISSES HIM OFF BECAUSE THERE IS LITERALLY ONE DAMN THING HE’S GOOD AT AND THIS SNOT-NOSED SHIT IS SHOWING HIM UP.

SO HE BUYS ONE OF THOSE DOODADS THAT ALL THE KIDS ARE TALKING ABOUT (also, i need him to actually talk like that, damn it) AND MANAGES TO TRACE THIS ASSHOLE BACK TO AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE.  BY THE TIME HE GETS THERE, NOTHING.  HE SCOURS THE PLACE AND FIREWALL IS ALREADY GONE.  SO HE RUNS A HAND OVER HIS FACE, SIGHS–MAYBE PUNCHES A HOLE THROUGH SOMETHING–AND THEN IT HAPPENS.

HE SEES SOME BLONDE GIRL WHO SO CAN’T BE 25 YET WALKING DOWN THE STREET WITH A LAPTOP IN HER ARMS.  JUST LIKE THAT, HE KNOWS.

FIREWALL.

IT’S ANOTHER TWO WEEKS BEFORE HE NOTICES A VISIBLE FURROW IN HIS FOREHEAD THAT WASN’T THERE BEFORE.

…

I’m sorry for shouting headcanons at you.  Not so sorry for what I wrote.

@felicity-said--yes said: I may not have creative writing skills but I WILL ALWAYS ACCEPT HEADCANONS BEING SHOUTED AT ME!!! AND OH MY GOD I LOVE THE NAME FIREWALL IT IS SO PERFECT!!

COULD YOU IMAGINE OLIVER FIGHTING IT TOOTH AND NAIL TO DENY THAT HE IS GETTING OLDER. BECAUSE (depending on how quickly they age, normally or faster, and the timeline of this story) HE IS GETTING OLDER AND THAT MEANS HIS BODY HURT MORE AFTER A FIGHT.

BUT THEN ALSO BECAUSE OF THIS INFURIATING SMALL BLONDE WOMAN, HE’S FEELING THINGS HE HASN’T FELT IN CENTURIES, SINCE HIS SISTER PASSED AWAY. BUT THIS BLONDE HAS HIS HEART RACING FOR REASONS OTHER THAN VIOLENT ADRENALINE AND HE HATES IT

I’m not even apologizing this time…

HE HAS TO AGE AT A NORMAL RATE, RIGHT.  SO HE DOESN’T NOTICE IT AT FIRST.  BUT THERE’S THIS NEW FURROW IN HIS BROW, RIGHT.  AND HE JUST SHRUGS IT OFF.

BUT THEN HE STARTS RUNNING INTO FIREWALL.  HE TALKS TO HER–SHE’S WEARING A MASK (because he never sees her without the mask okay)–AND THEN HE NOTICES HIS SHOULDER IS A LITTLE STIFF AFTER A LONG NIGHT OF TAKING DOWN BAD GUYS. WELL, OKAY, THAT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN–HE PUSHED HIMSELF TOO HARD.

BUT THEN HE INJURES HIS KNEE.  HE’S UP AND AROUND IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS, BUT IT ACHES AFTERWARD.  LIKE ALL THE TIME.  AND THAT… THAT ISN’T NORMAL AT ALL.  IT’S ALMOST LIKE THE ABUSE HE’S PUTTING HIS BODY THROUGH IS CATCHING UP WITH HIM.

LIKE HE’S AGING.

AND THEN HE RUNS INTO FIREWALL AGAIN.  THIS TIME THEY GET INTO A HEATED ARGUMENT (WELL, NOT JUST THIS TIME–EVERY TIME). BUT THIS TIME SHE’S TALKING ABOUT HIS DANGEROUS STUNTS AND GETTING HIMSELF KILLED BECAUSE HE’S NOT GOING TO WITHSTAND THAT KIND OF ABUSE ANYMORE.

AND THAT’S WHEN IT HITS HIM.

SHE’S HIS SOULMATE

HE’S BEEN ALIVE FOR THREE CENTURIES, ONLY TO FIND HIS SOULMATE IS PROBABLY THE MOST INFURIATING PERSON ON THE PLANET.

AND DAMN IT, SHE KNEW.

SHE KNEW FROM THE START.

SO HE DOES THE ONLY THING HE CAN DO:  HE BOLTS LIKE HE’S BEING CHASED BY A CHEETAH.

(And Firewall is completely @ohmyemilybett‘s idea.  I fell in love with it.)

@bushlaboo said: AND THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER AND BETTER @thatmasquedgirl. Nice naming job @ohmyemilybett!

He runs right into denial, right? All the denial. He starts listing all the reasons why he can’t have a soulmate, certainly not some snarky infuriating blonde. And when he’s almost convinced himself of that his doodad goes off and it’s Firewall.

Look you’re not my ideal soulmate candidate either. Someone from this century would totally make more sense, but we’re kind of stuck here. Fate has a weird sense of humor. You can keep running or you know we could figure out this vigilanting and soulmate thing together.If not, I’ll just keep sending you grumpy cat, because you totally remind me of him, memes until you finally relent. So easy way or hard way Big Green? Your choice.

Well of course he does, right?  It’s Oliver.

SHE CAN’T BE HIS SOULMATE.  HE DOESN’T HAVE A SOULMATE.  HE DOESN’T HAVE A HEART–THEY TORE THAT OUT OF HIM YEARS AGO WHEN EVERYONE HE EVER LOVED DIED.  HIS SISTER IS GONE.  TOMMY AND LAUREL ENDED UP TOGETHER AND SLOWLY AGED AWAY.  HIS MOTHER FOUND WALTER.  HE LITERALLY HAS NOTHING LEFT TO CARE ABOUT SO HE’S LONG SINCE ACCEPTED HE’S GOING TO LIVE FOREVER.

HOWEVER LONG THAT MIGHT ACTUALLY BE.

SHE… UNNERVES HIM.  IN A WAY THAT PEOPLE USUALLY DON’T.  BECAUSE HE CAN’T READ THIS LITTLE BLONDE HACKER WHO ISN’T EVEN A FRACTION OF HIS AGE.  AND, TRUTH BE TOLD, THAT SCARES HIM.  HE’S SCARED OF A MERE CHILD.

SO OLIVER DOES WHAT OLIVER DOES BEST:  HE SULKS.  HE SULKS AND BROODS AND STOPS GOING OUT AT NIGHT IN THE HOOD.  HE JUST LOCKS HIMSELF UP IN THE BASEMENT OF THE OLD QUEEN FACTORY THAT HIS FAMILY ABANDONED AT THE TURN OF THE 19TH CENTURY, AS IF IT’S SOME SORT OF SELF-IMPOSED PRISON.

BUT ONE NIGHT HE WAKES UP AND SHE’S THERE.  FIREWALL, SITTING ON HIS DESK ALL BORED AND MYSTERIOUS AND DRIVING HIM INSANE WITH HER MERE EXISTENCE. SHE’S HOLDING HIS COMMUNICATIONS DOODAD–THE ONE WITH THE SCREEN HE HAS TO POKE TO OPERATE–AND SHE JUST CASUALLY TELLS HIM ABOUT HOW HIS CYBERSECURITY IS COMPLETE BULLSHIT AND HE REALLY NEEDS TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT BECAUSE THE COPS CAN TRACE HIM.

OLIVER JUST BLINKS AT HER A FEW TIMES BECAUSE WHAT.

THEN SHE REAMS HIM.  SHE STARTS THIS NOT-QUITE-YELLING LOUD SPEECH ABOUT HOW HE COULD ACTUALLY DO SOME GOOD IN THE CITY IF HE STOPPED BEING ALL GLOOM AND DOOM.  AND HOW, BY LOCKING HIMSELF UP, HE’S FAILED THE CITY HE’S SPENT OH SO LONG PROTECTING.  HIS LITTLE BLONDE DEMON IS TELLING HIM TO SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP.

SHE’S ABOUT TO LEAVE WHEN HE FINALLY FINDS HIS VOICE.  IN A LOW BREATH, HE BEGS HER TO WAIT.

FIREWALL IS JUST AS MERCILESS AS HE IS.  SHE DOESN’T CAVE TO HIS REQUEST.   INSTEAD, SHE STOPS AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, AND, ONCE MORE, SHE MANAGES TO TURN HIS WORLD UPSIDE DOWN.

“I HOPE YOU DIDN’T THINK I WAS GOING TO THROW MYSELF AT YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE MY SOULMATE.”  HER LAUGH IS BITTER.  “I STOPPED CHASING AFTER PEOPLE A LONG TIME AGO.  SO IF YOU NEVER WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN, FINE.  IF YOU WANT TO WALK RIGHT OUT OF MY LIFE, GO AHEAD.  I’LL HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU.”

WHEN THE DOOR SLAMS, IT MANAGES TO SHATTER ONE OF HIS FAVORITE PICTURES AND HIS LONG-DEAD HEART.

@bushlaboo said: [T]here are not words. TRUELY. I just … this is just … 😍😍😍😍 

I have many regrets in life but this is not one of them.  When I go to bed tonight, I am going to just lie there and think about this.

@madmanwithawarehouse said: If you write this I will love you forever* AND OLIVER GOES TO TALK TO HER ABOUT THE WHOLE SOULMATE THING AND THE PRO AND CONS OF DATING AND FELICITY RESPONDS WITH, “WELL WE’RE GOING TO GROW OLD AND DIE WHETHER WE’RE TOGETHER OR NOT. I JUST THINK IT’S LESS BORING THIS WAY.” *of course I’d love you forever anyway but still

OH, NO.  IT WON’T BE THAT EASY.  THIS IS OLIVER WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HERE.  HE WON’T JUST CAVE.  MAYBE EVENTUALLY, BUT NOT IMMEDIATELY.

FIRST HE’LL BE ANGRY--FURIOUS, EVEN.  FAR EASIER TO BE ANGRY THAN HEARTBROKEN.  HOW DARE THIS LITTLE, BARELY-EVEN-OUT-OF-ADOLESCENCE... DEMON WOMAN TELL HIM HOW TO LIVE HIS LIFE!  SHE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT WHO HE IS OR WHAT HE’S ENDURED.

AND THEN HE TELLS HIMSELF THIS IS WHY HE’S BETTER OFF WITHOUT A BLASTED SOULMATE.

SO HE POUTS SOME MORE (AND SOME MORE BECAUSE HELLO, THIS IS OLIVER).  HE BROODS AND STEWS UNTIL HE REALIZES HIS WORST NIGHTMARE HAS COME TO LIFE:  SHE WAS RIGHT.

GODDAMN IT.

SO HE STOPS BROODING.  JUST WHEN THE CITY STARTS TO THINK THE ARROW IS FINALLY DEAD, HE RETURNS WITH A VENGEANCE.  EXCEPT THIS TIME HIS WRATH ISN’T CRUEL OR VINDICTIVE.  INSTEAD, HE GRANTS HIS VICTIMS MERCY.  HE DOESN’T KILL UNLESS HE’S GRANTED NO OTHER OPTION--UNLESS DEATH IS HIS ONLY OTHER CHOICE.

BECAUSE, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TWO HUNDRED YEARS, OLIVER QUEEN HAS FOUND SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR.

IT ISN’T THAT HE LOVES HER, THIS MYSTERIOUS FIREWALL THAT FATE HAS SOMEHOW SELECTED FOR HIM.  NO, HE DOESN’T KNOW HER WELL ENOUGH.  AND HE DISCOVERS THAT HE WANTS TO KNOW HER.  HE WANTS TO DISCOVER WHY ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH ANYONE WOULD PUT THE TWO OF THEM TOGETHER (OTHER THAN AS A CRUEL JOKE, OF COURSE).

THERE’S ONLY ONE PROBLEM.

HE CAN’T FIND HER.

SHE’S STILL ACTIVE.  EVERY DAY HE SEES HER NAME IN THE NEWS.  BUT THE PROBLEM IS THAT HE CAN NO LONGER TRACE HER.  HE KNEW FROM THE MOMENT SHE SHOWED UP IN HIS DWELLING THAT SHE WAS AN EXPERT IN ALL OF THOSE NONSENSICAL DOODADS THE KIDS LOVE SO DEARLY.  APPARENTLY SHE’S ENOUGH OF ONE THAT SHE CAN HIDE FROM OTHER DOODADS.

AND HE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT HER.  HE DOESN’T KNOW HER FACE, OR HER NAME.  ALL HE HAS IS A BLONDE OF ROUGHLY FIVE-AND-A-HALF FEET--WHICH DESCRIBES MOST WOMEN IN THE CITY.  HIS INFORMATION IS USELESS.

BUT HE’S DESPERATE NOW.  CURIOUS, EVEN.  AND NOW HE’S LIKE A BLOODHOUND WITH A SCENT, REFUSING TO LET IT GO.

WITH NOTHING ELSE TO GO ON, HE DOES SOME MORE RECONNAISSANCE.  FOR THE FIRST TIME IN DECADES, HE VENTURES OUT DURING THE DAY, WATCHING AS PEOPLE GO BY.  EVERY SPLASH OF BLONDE HAIR CATCHES HIS ATTENTION, BUT IT’S CLEAR NONE OF THEM ARE HER.  WHILE HIS ROUGH DESCRIPTION MAY BE PITIFUL, OLIVER KNOWS HER FAR BETTER THAN HE THOUGHT.  HE CAN TELL FROM THEIR GAITS, FROM THEIR POSTURES, THAT IT ISN’T HER.

FIREWALL CARRIES HERSELF WITH QUIET CONFIDENCE, A LITTLE SASS THROWN INTO HER WALK TO REMIND EVERYONE SHE’S SMARTER THAN THEM.  THERE’S A MISCHIEVOUS TWIST TO HER SMILE THAT WARNS THEM THAT SHE KNOWS IT.  AND ONCE HE SEES THOSE AGAIN, HE’S CERTAIN HE’LL KNOW.

DAYS TURN INTO WEEKS AND WEEKS INTO MONTHS, ALL TO NO AVAIL.  SMILING FACES AND AGING LOVERS MAKE HIM REALIZE AGAIN HOW LONELY HE TRULY IS.

IT’S WITH THAT NOSTALGIA AND YEARNING TO BELONG THAT TAKES HIM BACK TOWARD THE OLD QUEEN OFFICE BUILDINGS.  HE EXPECTS TO FIND THE BUILDING DILAPIDATED, FALLING APART WITH AGE.  INSTEAD, IT THRIVES UNDER THE BANNER OF QUEEN CONSOLIDATED, RISING UP TO THE SKY WITH METAL AND GLASS.

HIS FAMILY’S LEGACY CONTINUES.

HE PAUSES ON THE STEPS IN FRONT OF THE FOUNTAIN, TAKING IT ALL IN.  MOMENTS--MAYBE EVEN MINUTES--PASS BEFORE HE HEARS IT.

IT’S HER VOICE THAT CATCHES HIS ATTENTION, SOFT AND SWEET WITH JUST ENOUGH GRAVEL TO WARN EVERYONE SHE ISN’T ALWAYS SWEET.  HE TURNS TO FIND A BLONDE WITH LUDICROUSLY PINK LIPS STANDING ON THE STEPS, TALKING TO SOMEONE WHILE USING EXAGGERATED HAND GESTURES.  SHE STANDS AS THOUGH SHE’S AT EASE WITH HER SURROUNDINGS, CONFIDENT IN HERSELF.  AND THEN SHE WALKS OFF WITH A SWING TO HER HIPS AND A BOUNCE IN HER STEP.

JUST LIKE FIREWALL.

IN THAT MOMENT, HE KNOWS IT’S HER.  EVERYTHING ABOUT HER IS UNMISTAKABLE, RIGHT DOWN TO THAT TWIST OF HER LIPS THAT WOULD DO MONA LISA PROUD FOR ALL THE ENIGMA IT PRESENTS.  SOMEONE CALLS TO HER, WAVING AS HE REFERS TO HER AS FELICITY.

SOMEHOW, IT SUITS HER.

HE FOLLOWS HER.  OLIVER DISCOVERS WHERE SHE LIVES, AND, ONE NIGHT, HE EVEN WATCHES HER SLIP OUT IN THE ALL-BLACK GETUP DISTINCT TO FIREWALL.  HE WATCHES HER SUCK ON HER LIP AS SHE MAKES HER COMPUTER-ISH DOODAD WEAVE HER MAGIC ON ANOTHER UNSUSPECTING VICTIM.

IT’S SOMETHING HE NEVER DOES AGAIN.  SUCH BEHAVIOR MAKES HIM FEEL... DASTARDLY, AS IF HE’S SOME SORT OF PREDATOR.  AND HE’S DISCOVERED ALL HE NEEDS TO KNOW.  NOW HE NEEDS TO DECIDE WHERE HE STANDS.

HIS DAILY WALKS DON’T DECREASE.  HE LIKES IT, THE HUSTLE AND BUSTLE OF THE CITY, THE WAY PEOPLE INTERACT.  IN MOST WAYS, HE IS IN THE WORLD AND NOT OF IT, BUT HE APPRECIATES IT ALL THE SAME.

ONE DAY HE STOPS TO GET INFORMATION FROM THE FIRE CHIEF ON THEIR NEW RESIDENT ARSONIST.  SHOUTING CATCHES HIS ATTENTION, AND HE TURNS TO FIND ONE OF THE FIREMEN YELLING AT A BLONDE WHO IS COMPLETELY UNFAZED BY HIS IRE.

AND SUDDENLY HE’S STARING AT FIREWALL AGAIN.

THOUGH OLIVER MAY HAVE HAD HIS FAIR SHARE OF DEBAUCHERY IN THE PAST, HIS PARENTS DID TRY TO RAISE HIM AS A GENTLEMAN.  AND EVERY OUNCE OF THAT FORCES HIM TO INTERVENE, EVEN THOUGH HE ISN’T SO FOOLISH TO THINK THIS WOMAN NEEDS OR DESIRES HIS HELP.

HIS FIRST WORDS TO HER AS HIMSELF ARE, “IS THERE A PROBLEM?”

BLUE EYES MEET HIS AS SHE LIES TO HIS FACE.  SHE CLAIMS SHE’S A REPORTER AND THROWS HIM A FAKE NAME.  SHE GRABS HER BAG TO LEAVE, BUT OLIVER STOPS HER BY ASKING THE SAME QUESTION TO WHICH SHE DESIRED AN ANSWER.  THE FIRE CHIEF RELUCTANTLY RESPONDS, GIVING FELICITY THE INFORMATION SHE SO DESPERATELY CRAVES.

AND THEN HE WALKS AWAY.

OLIVER STILL HAS NO CLUE WHAT TO DO WITH HER.

HE DOUBTS HE EVER WILL.

BUT OF COURSE SHE STOPS HIM.  IT’S TYPICAL AT THIS POINT; WHEN HE WANTS HER, SHE ISN’T THERE, AND WHEN HE NEEDS TO KEEP HIS DISTANCE, SHE’S RIGHT UNDER HIS NOSE.

HE’S FAIRLY CERTAIN SHE’S THE WALKING EMBODIMENT OF THE WORD INFURIATING.

INSTEAD OF HER THANKS, SHE OFFERS A QUESTION:  “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

“HE WAS BEING RUDE.”

SHE REGARDS HIM AS THOUGH HE’S THE MYSTERIOUS ONE.  “WHAT DID YOU WANT?”

“NOTHING.”  THAT SEEMS TO CONFUSE HER MORE THAN HIS PREVIOUS ANSWER.  “A ‘THANK YOU’ WOULD BE NICE, BUT I’M NOT GOING TO WAIT FOR ONE.”

WHEN HE TURNS TO LEAVE, HE TELLS HIMSELF THAT HE ISN’T FLEEING.

BUT, REALLY, HE’S FLEEING.

HE’S ALMOST DOWN THE BLOCK WHEN HE HEARS A QUIET “THANK YOU” IN THAT HEAVENLY SWEET VOICE.

“MY PLEASURE,” HE WHISPERS BACK, TOO LOW FOR HER TO HEAR.

A WEEK LATER, HE FINDS HIMSELF IN THE BUSINESS DISTRICT AGAIN.  HE’S STARTED TO LINGER AROUND THE QC OFFICES, TAKING IT ALL IN.  SOMEHOW IT MANAGES TO INSPIRE HIM IN A WAY THAT FEW OTHER THINGS DO.  BECAUSE A PIECE OF HIS FAMILY IS LEFT FOR ALL TO KNOW.

GONE, BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN.

IMMORTALITY AT ITS GREATEST.

“QUITE A VIEW, ISN’T IT?” A WOMAN’S VOICE ASKS.  OF COURSE.

HE TURNS TO HER.  FOR THE FIRST TIME, HE TRULY OBSERVES HER.  OLIVER IS WELL VERSED IN THE STUDY OF THE FEMALE BODY, AND IT IS WITH A WELL-TRAINED EYE THAT HE ANSWERS, “MAGNIFICENT.”

A DUSTING OF BLUSH DARKENS HER CHEEKS, BUT OTHERWISE SHE DISMISSES HIS REMARK BY TELLING HIM THE HISTORY OF HIS FAMILY’S COMPANY.  BUT HE DOESN’T MIND; HE ENJOYS WATCHING HER TALK.

SHE HAS A PROVOCATIVE MOUTH, THE KIND THAT TWISTS AROUND EVERY SYLLABLE LIKE A CARESS.  IT’S SOMETHING HE NOTICED BEFORE--WHEN SHE WAS JUST A CLEVER THORN IN HIS SIDE--BUT NOW IT MEANS SOMETHING.

OBSERVATION BECOMES DESIRE.

DESIRE BECOMES TORMENT.

AND THE TORMENT BLAZES LIKE FIRE.

FINE.  LET HIM BURN, THEN.

SHE QUIETS BEFORE INFORMING HIM THAT HER NAME ISN’T REALLY MEGAN KUTTLER--A FACT HE ALREADY KNEW--AND REVEALS HERSELF AS FELICITY SMOAK IN THE THROES OF A STUTTERED EXCUSE.  THEN SHE SAYS SHE DIDN’T ASK FOR HIS NAME.

“IT’S OLIVER,” IS ALL HE OFFERS.

“IT’S NICE TO OFFICIALLY MEET YOU, OLIVER.”

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN OVER A CENTURY, SOMEONE SAYS HIS NAME.  AND THAT THOUGHT BRINGS A SMILE TO HIS LIPS FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TWO CENTURIES.

“AND YOU, FELICITY.”

SUDDENLY IT SEEMS TOO REAL TOO FAST.  HE’S ALREADY SCREWED THIS UP ONCE, AND THIS TIME HE’S UNLIKELY TO GET ANOTHER CHANCE.  “I HAVE TO GO.”

“I’LL CATCH YOU AROUND, THEN,” SHE REPLIES IN A CHEERFUL TONE, THOUGH THE CORNERS OF HER MOUTH TURN DOWN.

“ONLY IF YOU HAVE TERRIBLE LUCK,” HE MUTTERS IN PARTING.  THE WORDS SLIP OUT UNDER HIS BREATH AS HE SCURRIES AWAY.

BEHIND HIM, HIS SOULMATE REPLIES, “YOU DON’T SEEM THAT UNLUCKY TO ME.”

IF ONLY SHE KNEW.

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