#i wasn’t going to crosspost but i know like 2 of you here that would like this and this is for YOU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burlesqueabsurdist · 1 day ago

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Supposedly Trench coat mafia “member” AMA on reddit

Suspected to possibly Eric Dutro

Eric Dutro yearbook photo 1997

I can not confirm or deny if it is Eric Dutro, nor do I feel the need to.

I can also not confirm if it's authentic.

Q=QUESTIONER

A=ANSWER (FROM OP)

(Number)= A number of the questioner to identify differences in who's asking.

_________________________________________

“I am a former member of the Trench Coat Mafia. Ask me Anything.”

Q(1):

How strange is it getting older? Does high school even feel like it really happened?

It’s really weird. I doubt I’ve peaked as a person yet but it still kinda feels like my glory days are behind me.

It feels normal whenever I think about normal stuff, but whenever i remember that I’m part of a lore surrounding one of the most infamous schools in America, I kinda start to dissociate.

Q(2):

Do you know about or follow r/columbine ?

I’m subscribed to the sub on my main account, and I follow it, but I never comment on anything because

1. I don’t want people to dig up info on my from my personal account and

2. I doubt anyone would believe me without me doing a whole lot of explaining, which I’m doing here. I cross posted this post there and it should be approved by the mods soon, so who knows? Maybe I’ll start to be able to inform people better.

Q(2):

I had crossposted this post to that sub a few minutes ago and it’s showing up, but would be nicer to see it posted from you. If yours shows up I will delete my cross-post’

Thanks.

Q(3):

Did you really call yourselves the trench coat mafia? Were you there on the day of the shooting? What happened from your perspective if you were? What were Dylan and Eric like?

According to our “mythos” some guy older than us wore a trench coat to school one day and a few people started copying him. One day some kid sarcastically asked them if they were a “Trench Coat Mafia” and the name stuck. So yes, to answer that question.

Nope. Skipping class to smoke weed and watch TV like a bunch of kids were doing that day.

This is the big one. Dylan was a real intimidating looking guy on the outside, but didn’t seem that threatening if you actually talked to him. The guy radiated intelligence and I believed for some time that he was some kind of savant due to his problem solving ability. He would literally be one of the last people I expected to go postal like that. Eric, on the other hand, was just a standard guy. Real talkative and charismatic. Lots of girls liked him even though he wasn’t anywhere near the top of the social hierarchy and I’m sure he was aware of it. I remember another guy in TCM telling me that brooks brown had reported him to the police because he threatened to kill his entire family or something but I didn’t believe it because brooks sort of had a reputation as a compulsive liar. After the shooting though, I realized there were probably signs of narcissism or a god complex that I just didn’t pick up.

Q(3):

Thanks for answering. This is fascinating to me, I got very involved in this case a few years back. Did you ever know the shooters family or home life? I’m mostly interested in Eric, as his parents did not speak out or anything after the incident. Did any of your friends get injured in the shooting

You’re welcome.

Never met the Harris’s or Dylan’s dad but I did meet Dylan’s mom a couple of times. I would seriously consider her one of the nicest ladies I ever met. I still feel terrible for her getting blamed for the shooting because it truly wasn’t her fault Dylan turned out the way he did.

I had a few acquaintances get hurt, no real friends, although I assume due to how closely knit our friend group was they would’ve been aiming for them.

Q(4):

How was the situation with weed at Columbine? Did only certain groups smoked or did everyone and how easy was it to get?

Weed was very easy to get, lots of people would literally sell inside the school (myself included). As for how many people were smoking weed regularly, I wanna say maybe 20% of the entire student population during the time I went to school there.

Q(4):

Thank you for taking the time to anwser, i had a few more questions regarding this topic if you would like to anwser them. Do you still smoke weed? What was the usual place where everyone would smoke? Did most people just smoked joints or bongs? And what did the other students think of the people who smoked weed?

Thanks in advance

Yes

Wherever we could but usually a house (preferably without parents

Joints were easier to conceal but bongs still popped up from time to time.

The stoners were pretty much ignored by everyone else. I do remember when we got into a fight with the jocks once they teamed up with us and we whipped them. But otherwise, it was a pretty standard clique.

Q(4):

Thanks for the reply ! One more question about the group photo of the trenchcoat mafia, why are Dylan and Eric not on the picture?

They weren’t official “members” but they still hung out with us.

Q(2):

Do you still stay in touch with Sue K?

I’ve seen her in passing once, but I just nodded to her. If I see her again I might strike up a conversation.

Q(5):

Are you still known as the "Kid that used to be part of the same group as the Columbine shooters" there in Littleton?

Yes, but people hardly ever talk about it.

Q(6):

Do you think Chris Morris or anyone else knew it was gonna happen? He always seemed particularly suspicious to me. I assume that E&D asked him to participate and he said no and didn't believe they actually would do it. It would be crazy to me if nobody was told of the plans beforehand in a manner like that

Fuck yes. Chris and some of the other guys were acting all weird starting in February, and a person who shall remain unnamed tried to get me to make pipe bombs under the pretense that they were going to "Blow stumps out of the ground". I refused, obviously.

I maintain to this day that some members of the TCM helped them plan the shooting and gather materials based on their behavior over those last couple months and how they were talking about some "event". If they were actually in the school? I don't know. I'm open to this theory based on what i know, and if anyone wants to give me some info or theories or whatever i might be able to link some stuff together. I know Pat Mcduffee tried telling me about how there were more people involved but i didn't really listen to him because i was still grieving Eric and Dylan.

Edit: I just remembered that Chris's mom was a cop. Really makes you think.

Q(7):

Do you believe the “Basement Tapes” were really destroyed? or know anything about the basement tapes?

Honestly, I think Jeffco is just saying they were destroyed to get everyone off their back. I have no idea why they won’t release them, as the “copycat” excuse is complete bullshit because they made no effort to censor Eric’s webpages that literally had working instructions to build pipe bombs in them.

I hope someone is able to leak them or has a copy laying around somewhere, because they need to be released. I never saw them, but I repeatedly asked to and was denied several times.

Q(8):

Do you still live in the area?

Around there, yes.

Q(9):

Did you all did activities like practicing with guns, or only some of you ?

I already met young and older people who dresses in black, but just hang out, without messing with others.

Black Trench coats where a trend in the 80's and 90's.

Did you regularly dress in black, or just wear the coats as school ?

Black clothing and trench coats still are stigmatized these days.

Note: I do care about the victims, not just the fashion stuff.

Only some of us would. There were lots of members that couldn’t handle any violence. The go to location was a place over in Douglas county on a mountain, which is where Eric and Dylan filmed the “rampart range” video. I can actually point out a tree I shot with a sawn off in the first 30 seconds. Also, I assume they both got the pipe bomb idea from us, considering we would make those and ignite them out in the mountains and Chris was the first one to tell them that.

Regularly. Some of us didn’t actually wear all black along with our trench coats. I remember one guy would sometimes wear a tie-dye shirt under it. I doubt it was really about the color and more of just the way we wanted to be seen. I could’ve probably worn a brown one and been accepted.

Q(10):

what do you think about the “condoners” of the shooting?

edit: if i was unclear, i mean like the tumblr fangirls and edgy potential school shooters

I can understand it, as it probably comes from a place of thinking they could fix them or prevent them from doing what they did. However, I doubt that if they were actually there at columbine as high school students they would’ve of even cared about them. Where I draw the line, though, is when you start to believe they were innocent or what they did was a good thing. It’s fine to be interested and research something, but it’s not okay to glorify or condone something like that.

Q(11):

DELETED COMMENT

Yes. Bullying culture at columbine was fucking awful and it had to have played a part in the shooting. Jocks once tossed a cup of horse shit on them and threw tampons soaked in ketchup at them. Brooks brown got hit in the head with a baseball bat by some jocks in a truck. They would literally try to set people clothes on fire.

And the big thing was, the school administration wouldn’t do shit about. I’m sorry, but at that time, CHS staff wouldn’t do shit if you were being bullied unless parents involved and made a scene. There was a case of a jock stalking some girl and her having to get a restraining order, and the school still tried to get him a football scholarship. I apologize for getting angry, but it still enrages me to this day the amount of bullshit that the kids the teachers liked got away with.

Q(12):

I got to watch Frank Deangelis speak at a conference several months ago. He's a very compelling speaker. What's your opinion of him, especially given the culture at Columbine at the time of the shooting?

Thanks for doing this!! I'm a school shooting witness/survivor and know just how hard it can be to speak up about.

He’s obviously a changed man since the years before the shooting, and having 12 kids and a teacher die in the school you’re responsible for will do that.

I respect him for making that vow to stay as the principal all these years but It doesn’t take away from his inaction towards bullying beforehand.

Q(13):

Was bullying really bad at Columbine? Did you ever see Eric or Dylan get bullied? Did you ever see them bully anyone?

Did you know any of the victims or anyone who was injured?

Do you remember anything specific about them? Not in general, I mean like a time you hung out with them, a conversation you had with them, etc? Anything that really sticks out after the massacre?

What was Eric and Dylan’s friendship like? Did either seem to be influenced by or copy the other?

Already answered that somewhere else.

Already answered. A couple of acquaintances.

Eric actually told a bunch of people his plans to bomb the school but I didn’t take it seriously. I might elaborate in an extra comment because I’m not in a really comfortable position to be making super long comments right now. As for Dylan, a couple of months before the massacre, I remember he asked me what i thought happened after we died while listening to Siamese Dream in his car. I replied that I assumed we just found some sort of peace and got to hang out with a bunch of other dead people and just chill. He told me that he hopes that it’s some kind of beautiful trip across the universe that you get to take with the people you love.

They just seemed like best friends. I thought it was kinda weird that they had so many differences yet were so close with each other, but I guess they hand their plans for a rampage tying them together.

Q(14):

At the time, did you expect Eric and Dylan to amass such a huge following like they have today?

What were you thinking when Sol Pais flew up to the Denver area and bought a shotgun a few days before the 20th anniversary, causing schools across the area to shut down?

No. Didn’t even think they would be household names.

I felt bad for her. No one in the right state of mind buys a shotgun and threatens to shoot up a school for no reason.

Q(15):

Are you still friends with the other Trench Coat Mafia members ? What music did you guys listen to?

The whole group dissolved after the shooting and I heavily distanced myself after I started to believe that they knew more about the massacre than they were letting on. I still know a handful of guys who were associates but a huge chunk of the actual TCM just fell off the map after 4/20.

There wasn’t a standard musical genre for the group. Vaguely, most of the members like industrial music and nu metal. Dylan liked NIN, and the chemical brothers. Eric like Rammstein and KMFDM. Eric liked some NIN songs but didn’t find them enthralling enough for him. Dylan was more open to different musical genres and I let him borrow one of my Slowdive CD’s once. I can go more in depth in music if you want me to

Q(15):

What do you mean exactly when you say " I started to believe that they knew more about the massacre than they were letting on." ?

I read about them listening to all those bands, except for Slowdive, interesting ! I thought they only liked industrial music.

Thanks for taking the time to answer x

When I get home I’ll make an in depth answer but let’s just say some very fishy shit was going on with the TCM and it’s affiliates in the months leading up to the shooting.

Q(16):

Do you have any clue if they were into Aphex Twin?

Funnily enough, i tried to turn Eric on to more electronic music by giving him selected ambient works and music has the right to children by boards of canada but he said it was too boring.

Q(17):

I can see how he wouldn't be the type to like these things. But I always thought he would be someone who would like "Come to Daddy".

Q(18):

When did you first find out it was those two doing the shooting and what was your initial reaction?

Basically, i got called by one of my friends who told me to turn on the fucking news because "some shit just went down". I switched it on, and lo and behold, reporters everywhere, cops, and people running out of the school, and a reporter said there was a shooting at columbine. i initially believed that Eric could've been involved, but i seriously didn't expect to see Dylan's yearbook photo show up when they started to talk about suspects. As for my reaction, well, let's just say it wasn't pleasant. I woke my mom up after i screamed out "FUCK!" and dropped my glass of apple juice.

Q(19):

Thank you for the AMA. It is nice to hear your level headed analysis.

Have you seen the movie Elephant by Gus Van Sant? Do you think it's an accurate portrayal?

Also, why do you think the boys ended up in the library? Didn't they want to kill jocks?

Elephant was good but you need to keep in mind that it strays heavily from the actual events leading up to shooting and the shooting itself.

Absolutely no idea. That question still bugs me to this day.

Q(20):

DELETED COMMENT

Yes.

If I thought they were serious, at that time in my life the idea would have been slightly appealing but I probably wouldn’t have aided them.

Q(21):

Obviously the Trench Coat Mafia wasn't the scary thing people said it was but how did you guys feel about it being portrayed as this marauding gang that was full of goth kids. How true/untrue was that and how did you and other members feel getting raked over the coals in the media shortly after the shooting?

What kind of music (specific bands if possible) did you like in High School? I always thought it was crazy that Brooks Brown was a Juggalo back then.

How are you holding up now? Obviously you have no real reason to feel remorse or guilt in any way but it feels like every year we have another shooting where the shooter idolized Eric & Dylan, is it weird that so many people idolize two of your old friends and they became folk anti-heroes in a way?

(If no other question you'd wanna answer please answer this one) If you could go back to a point in time before that day with Eric and/or Dylan, what would you say to them?

It didn't really matter because as soon as the media said that Eric and Dylan were members of TCM the whole group just fell apart. Some people were angry, some people were sad, some people just stayed silent. I personally felt mad, not because they were slandering us, but because they basically put a target on our heads. A guy i knew got picked up by cops for wearing a trench coat. Jocks were talking about revenge, and nobody could wear black for two weeks after 4/20 for fear of being attacked.

NIN, Korn, Aphex twin, Tool, Deftones, KMFDM, Smashing Pumpkins, Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine, Alice in Chains, Boards of Canada, Radiohead, Marilyn Manson, Pigface, SPK, Throbbing Gristle. Lots of stuff.

As good as one can after all I've been through.

As Marilyn Manson said, I wouldn't of said anything. I'd of listened. Because maybe if we all listened things wouldn't of turned out the way they did.

Q(22):

How did you sleep the night after the shooting?

I didn't sleep for two days after finding out it was Eric and Dylan. Eventually i stole some ambien from my parent's medicine cabinet, but i wouldn't say that i felt well rested after waking back up.

Q(22):

Very understandable. I wouldn't have been able to sleep either. Wish you best of luck.

Q(23):

Thank you for doing this. Could answer some questions people have:

Do you recall anything that could have given you a hint or anything that could have tipped someone off?

How are you doing now? Hope all is well.

As I’ve said before, Eric wasn’t very fucking inconspicuous about wanting to do some shit. He told pretty much everyone who knew him that he was planning to do something to CHS, but as far as I know, everyone played it off because they thought he was joking and because it was a different time period where stuff like that wasn’t taken as seriously. In this day and time kids can make “don’t come to school tomorrow” jokes and get fucking arrested.

Q(23):

Thanks for responding.

Q(24):

Did being part of TCM have any sort of impact on your life as you grew up due to the affiliation? Also how’ve you been doing? I can’t imagine it was easy growing up knowing what people you knew did.

Yes. If employers search up my name (not giving that shit out) they find a TCM group picture from the yearbook. I can't work serious jobs and several of my friends have no idea of my background or how i was friends with two of the most infamous human beings alive. It's a pretty heavy burden to bear, but i manage.

Q(24):

Q (15):

I guess you know that already but you have the legal rights to get search results linked to your name (that you think threaten your privacy) deleted from the Internet.

Are you serious? I’ll definitely look into that if it’s true.

Q(15):

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Right_to_be_forgotten

Removing the TCM photo and its caption will be tricky of course but you shouldn't let your full name appear anywhere linked to the massacre if it gets in the way of you getting a job.

Thank you! I had no idea about this. I might have to head over to r/legaladvice soon.

Q(25):

DELETED COMMENT

Disappointment and sadness towards the shooter and the victims, anger towards the media and pharmaceutical companies.

Q(26):

how much different do you think your life would be if it never happened? how did the school/community cope afterwards? did you personally know any of the victims?

I might have a decent job, and I wouldn’t have as much weight on my shoulders.

We didn’t have school for weeks afterward, I just stopped going for the rest of the year, and according to friends when school went back in the only thing people did was just talk and vent to each other. I guess that’s how everyone recovers. Just talk and vent.

Some of my acquaintances were injured, and few people i knew in passing were killed.

Q(27):

How would you feel about some sort of columbine movie? Obviously it would be made with respect and include accurate info about the shooting, victims, and the perpetrators.

It would be nice. Might draw more awareness to mental health and hopefully provide an unbiased picture of both Eric and Dylan’s behavior before and during the massacre.

Also, Trent Reznor should do the soundtrack but I doubt he would due to the shit he got from the media after the shooting.

Q(15):

Were you friends with Eric Veik ?

Yes. Not much I can say except he was pretty smart and people started saying he helped plan it afterwards. I don’t believe it based on how much the shooting fucked him up.

Q(28)(referring to question above):

Or if not, what do you think about that guy?!

I feel bad for him.

Q(29):

DELETED COMMENT

Yes. It’s good, but she needs to understand that dylan wasn’t as innocent as she thinks.

Q(30):

I was wondering if you had any close friendships/relationships with any of the kids that were killed?

No close relationships although some people I would consider acquaintances were hurt.

Q(31):

i’m curious about Eric and Dylan’s behavior around animals. Had you ever witnessed either of them interact with animals? Did you have a sense of the type of relationship, if any, they had with their family pets? Are you aware of either of them exhibiting any negative behaviors directed toward animals, including wildlife?

I actually have a story for this one.

We had been detonating pipe bombs out in the mountains, and I came up with the idea to tape one of the bombs to a tree to test the damage. We did that, and when it detonated it blew a chunk out of the tree and knocked out some baby birds. We all believed that if we touched them, their mom would abandon them, so we decide just to put them out of their misery. I stomped some, Eric stomped some, and Dylan stomped some.

Eric stomped them quickly and seemed very nonchalant about it. Dylan, however, said that he was just putting them out of their misery, and said he felt better for some reason after stomping them.

I believe that was the defining moment in my friendship with them, and foreshadowed their actions at columbine. Eric was silent, and was almost machinelike in the way he stomped them. Dylan actually vocalized to the birds by saying “this is only going to hurt for a little bit” before stomping them. It chills me to my very core that I saw a part of the people they would later become out there in the mountains.

Q(32):

Were Eric and Dylan good bowlers?

Pretty standard as far as my knowledge of bowling goes.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

LINK TO THE AMA: https://www.reddit.com/r/casualiama/comments/fom8or/i_am_a_former_member_of_the_trench_coat_mafia_ask/

(THIS IS NOT EVERYTHING ON THE AMA, BESIDES COMMENTS LIKE “answered this already” AND OR UNIMPORTANT UNANSWERED QUESTIONS)

Be respectful

#columbine #dylan and eric #trench coat mafia #Eric dutro #dylan columbine #eric columbine

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andromedism · 7 months ago

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happy pride to mac mcdonald specifically!

#iasip #mac mcdonald #pride #it’s always sunny in philadelphia #i wasn’t going to crosspost but i know like 2 of you here that would like this and this is for YOU

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littlerequiem · 3 months ago

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we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 2

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Descriptions of the Rumbling (WC: 7k)

( Previous chapter / Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

It’s past curfew when you catch a glimpse of Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary. He's been coming up here this past week, though this is the first time you approach him.

“You gonna tell anyone?” Levi asks. He’s playing with a small pocket knife, twirling it in his hand.

You consider his question. No doubt Erwin would want to know about his new gamble sneaking away from the barracks every evening. Then again, knowing Erwin, he might already know and chooses to just let it slide anyway.

You lean your weight over the edge of the window sill, gazing at the way moonlight crowns Levi's hair. “Are you going to hurt anyone with that knife?”

Levi's eyes twinkle in the night. “What, just because I’m from the Underground means I’m gonna stab someone?”

“Actually,” you say carefully, “I was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

His eyes lose their fire; he focuses back on his knife. “I won’t.”

Freedom—it is the ability to glimpse at endless blue skies; it is horse riding until dusk; it is choices and opinions and being able to voice them.

These days, Levi takes it for granted, his freedom. He’s an ungrateful asshole like that.

If the people from his childhood would hear him now, they would spit in his face. Try to beat him to a pulp. Here he is, lacking gratitude, when some poor lowlife was born and died in that shit hole that was the Underground.

Levi hears that the Underground doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve told him that the Rumbling caused earthquakes to fracture the ground, that much of the subterranean city has been buried under. There were some casualties, of course, but the worst could be avoided since Queen Historia had ordered a gradual evacuation years prior.

Levi wonders if the people now discovering life above ground still have violence in their blood the way he once did when he first saw the sun.

“Levi, where is your secret tea stash?”

Your question muffles over the sound of the kettle groaning awake on the gas stove, blending with the sound of waves crashing outside. It tears him right out of his thoughts and away from the headline he'd been reading: 'More than 75% of refugees in Marley now rehoused, much work still remains in the mental aftermath of the war'.

Levi has been up for several hours now, breakfast long since consumed. You, on the other hand, just got up, the whisks of sleep still present in your cadence, in the corners of your eyes. An anomaly to be sure—Levi remembers you being an early riser, but he supposes that habits, just like people, change.

“Why would I have a secret tea stash?”

You yawn, a hand covering your mouth. “Well... you always had a secret tea stash, didn't you?”

“To hide from cadets and their grubby fingers. I’m all alone here.”

“Mm." You shrug, words a little slurred. "You could still want to hide a thing or two from me.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell ya where it was, would I?” Levi leans one elbow over the kitchen table, chin lazily resting on the center of his palm. His index finally pokes out to give directions. “S’on the left side, second cupboard.”

Your gaze follows his directive, only to look at him with a slightly more straight posture. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You stick your tongue out, like a damn child. “Words. They help.”

Levi refrains from rolling his eyes. He watches you open the cupboard, grabbing the tin of loose tea leaves.

On the chair next to him, Scout is curled up and fast asleep. The kitten's muzzle scrunches as she dreams.

“Are you sure I'm allowed to drink this?”

Levi's eyes flicker back towards you. You're facing him, looking uncertainly at the tea.

“Yeah," he says.

"But isn't this special? Isn't this tea from Paradis?"

It is tea from Paradis, courtesy of Armin. It's one of Levi's last boxes, in fact. He knows he'll eventually run out of it, and while he supposes he could ask for more of it, he thinks his taste buds will just need to adapt to something else. That's just the way life goes.

"You know," he mutters, "if you’re gonna be like this about every little thing around the house, it's gonna get tiring real fast.”

You focus on the tea preparation, turning away from him. “I’m just being polite."

“Why? You never bothered before."

"Ouch. Harsh.”

"S'not," Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s freshly washed, still a bit damp. "I mean, no need to act all fake and shit."

"Okay... but this isn't like life in the Survey Corps. This is your house."

His house. Levi doesn't know if he should be more possessive about these things, the way he's seen some townspeople be with their possessions, but Levi's just never been one to care about these things. He never has.

Levi flips his newspaper to the next page. "So long as you keep the place clean, I don’t care about the rest."

“You don’t care?”

You've turned back in his direction, and his eyes meet yours. There's a spark in your gaze.

Oh you’re taunting him.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "Drill this into your head, Adler: anything that’s mine is yours, so just treat this place as such.”

That seems to shut you right up. You blink with a dumbfounded expression, apparently startled by his (accidental, Levi swears it was accidental) turn of phrasing. It’s soon replaced by words uttered beneath your breath, words Levi doesn’t quite grasp because his own ears are whistling. He returns his attention back to the newspaper, attempting to shrug off the weight of the innuendo.

Anything that’s mine is yours. What a stupid thing to say. That almost sounded like a confession or some shit. One day in, and Levi's already screwing up with his words.

For the next minute, Levi tries his damn best to focus on his newspaper.

“Getting her beauty rest, huh?” Levi looks up; you're placing two cups of tea on the table, one pushed towards him, along with a plate for the infusers. You're eying Scout. “She seems glued to your side,” you muse, sitting down.

“Kittens sleep a lot,” Levi supplies lamely.

“In any case, it’s cute to see the two of you together.”

Levi turns the handle of his cup to his left side. “Please.”

“Can you imagine what everyone would say? The fearless Captain Levi, succumbing to a cat—”

"Quit talking and just drink your tea, would you?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Aye, aye, captain."

For a moment, silence does fall, and his peripheral catches your chest rising and falling, something oddly quaint and peaceful about witnessing your breathing. You take to staring outside the window, looking at the view of the sea glimmering in the distance. He follows your line of sight, noting that there’s a buildup of crusted salt around the windows; Levi should really clean it off before summer ends.

“Hey, so,” you interrupt after a while, “I was thinking of going to the market today. Get a few things. Maybe find a job.”

Levi locks eyes with you. “A job?”

“Mm. Yeah. Something that makes sense for me...”

You want to get back to the medical field, already? You just got here.

“Why the hurry?"

“Well…" you say, "I don’t want to leech off you forever—”

“You're not.”

“Still, it'd be good for me, right?” You shoot a bright smile—something too bright about it. Levi's eyes narrow. “Anyway, you wanna join or what? You know... I’d love to meet all the nosy people you’ve told me about.”

Levi purses his lips, feeling as though you glossed over that subject much too quickly. A part of him wants to nudge you a bit, though his usual habit to just let you be kicks in. Whatever you're hiding, you have your reasons.

Levi considers your proposal. He knows it would be better if he didn’t join, seeing how damn foolish he’s already acting around you. He should try to set clear boundaries with you.

And yet—

“Sure,” comes out of him all the same.

Well, so much for that, anyway.

“You flew.”

You stand there, staring at the sight of the man as he finishes his round of training.

Levi shoots you a look, grappling with the hand grips. “I’m just using the ODM gear correctly.”

You take a step towards him. “No, but you’re amazing. You must know that, right? I’m not a soldier, but… I know talent when I see it.”

He gives you an odd look then, and before you have a chance to say anything else, propels himself in the air and disappears into the shadows of the forest.

At the market, Levi follows you around like a brooding shadow.

He’s in his wheelchair today. Behind him, you’re pushing him and asking questions about the scenery and the people and all sorts of trivial things.

(“Look, look there, all these teas. Have you tried any of them?”

“Some.”)

(“I'm gonna buy some flowers to plant in the gardens. Is that alright?”

“Do what you want.”)

(“Is the sea always as pretty?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, there's shit that gets carried in.”

"How poetic.")

(“Look, Levi! A car.”

“It looks dangerous.”

“I think I’d like to try driving. Get over my fear, you know?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit! S’not so different from riding a horse, right?”

“You’ve got a few screws loose up there, you know that?”)

Well, Levi was never great at talking. Not that you seem to mind; you’ve always liked to ask him questions and fill in the blanks when needed. Most of the time, it’s the silence that sits comfortably between the two of you that Levi appreciates so much anyway. It just is, like a soft cloud fills the sky with shapes.

You're now moving next to him, calmly taking in the sight of the buzzing market. It's a little too busy for Levi's liking, but the sight of you distracts him: you’re wearing a sunhat with ribbons, coupled with your cotton overalls. Levi’s never seen you wear a hat like this one before, but he thinks it suits you.

“You should protect your skin from the sun,” you said earlier. “That’s why I wear a hat.”

“I didn’t come to the surface to run away from the sun,” he grumbled back, even if he did notice how warm summers in Marley truly are (and yes, he’d gotten sunburned on several occasions, and also yes, his injured eye stings every time the sun shines too brightly... but, still, Levi wouldn’t budge).

“Good morning, dear boy! What a surprise to see you here!” someone says, tearing Levi out of the thoughts.

Attached to that booming voice is none other than Levi's boss, Adam Jakowski.

Originally an Eldian from Marley, Mr Jakowski was one of the first residents that settled here in Mare. He quickly opened his carpentry shop, and when Levi moved in, he found a job there.

Today, however, Mr Jakowski isn't here for any carpentry-related trades. Every week-end, the man likes to come here and share the goods his wife makes.

"What brings you here?" Mr Jakowski asks.

“I was dragged out, believe it or not,” Levi answers, head bobbing towards you.

Next to him, he hears you snort.

“And who might this pretty young lady be? Are you the missus Ackerman, perchance?” Mr Jakowski asks, his tone carrying a curiosity only people genuinely interested in others are capable of mustering.

Levi feels his cheeks burn at the idea, but you just chuckle, swatting a hand in the air to dispel the notion. “No such thing, sir. But I am new to town and it pleases me all the same to make your acquaintance. Miss Adler, charmed to meet you.”

Levi’s thin brows knit together. It’s the first time he hears you introduce yourself without your profession tied in.

Miss Adler. Not Dr Adler.

Strange.

“Well met, Miss Adler… Well met, indeed! Ah, it is a pleasure to see new faces in Mare, especially a lovely one such as yours. Will you be staying here for a while?”

“Mm. Who knows?” You smile. “I can’t quite say yet, to tell the truth.”

Levi’s throat suddenly feels a little thick.

“Anyway, what are you selling here, sir?” you ask, peering over the stall of the merchant, gazing at all the products and zeroing on a particular one: a red paste.

“The one you're eying is a paste from the eastern part of Marley, ma'am. It’s made with paprika and bell-peppers, you see. Great for inflammations and stomach issues,” the old man explains. He makes you smell it, then turns around to sprinkle it onto something. “You can coat it like so,” he raises a piece of bread that he smears with the red paste, “or add it to your cooking.”

He hands you the toast.

You bite into it, chewing for several moments as you raise a hand over your mouth. “Walls! It does have such a particular taste. It’s the aftertaste, right? Spicy.”

Your eyes wander to meet Levi’s, and you raise the bread slightly in his direction as if to inquire if he wants to taste it as well. Levi shakes his head, and you shoot him a smile, gulping down the rest of the food.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, drumming his left index in a series of five taps over his forearm—tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Next to him, he hears the way you engage in easy conversation, talking about the weather, how the region has adjusted to the influx of settlers, how you're looking for a job and how, yes, you’d love to meet his wife and daughter!

The rest flies over his head. Instead, Levi looks up at your sunhat again, admiring the way it hugs the shape of your skull, the way the ribbons flow gently with the breeze.

Levi wonders if he could buy you a hat. Or sew you a new ribbon. Would you accept his gifts?

At last, you seem convinced of the product and order three jars. This is the moment when Levi comes back to his senses, seeing you rummage through your pockets to find coins to pay for your purchase.

No such luck.

Levi beats you to it, slinging out the leather pouch his first squad gifted him many years ago, placing the change in Mr Jakowski's hands.

You blink, mouth parted, but Levi just plops the jars he receives into your bag, wheeling himself back.

He hears you fumble your goodbyes to Mr Jakowski, thanking him for his help, and at once, your voice is in his ears.

“Levi, why did you just pay?” you ask, tone bewildered.

“Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’m not." You stop in front of him, all stern-looking, hands on your hips. "You didn’t have to do that.”

Levi raises a defiant brow. “But I did, and it’s done.”

“Don’t make it sound so simple. You’re already letting me stay in your house for free. I intend to pay my dues, you know. I have money.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You—”

“Complain again and I won’t let you pay for a damn thing.”

You close your mouth, glaring at him.

Levi swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’ll just sneak it back into your pockets later’ whispered under your breath, but when he narrows his eyes in your direction, you feign a look of innocence.

After purchasing everything you wanted to purchase—a book on art, flower beds for the garden—you finally settle in a cozy little café on the town’s square. You order some pastries, while Levi takes his usual tea, the closest thing that resembles the tea from back home. You watch people from everywhere bustle by while Levi sips on his drink.

“Hey, look!” you point out suddenly. “I’ve never seen those birds before.”

You've pointed to a flock of birds of all colors, no larger than a fist. They’re hopping on the ground, scavenging for food. You get up, asking for some seeds from a waiter to feed them.

“Why did they migrate to this part of the world?” you wonder as you lay out food for them.

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the birds, nibbling the seeds, admiring the way their feathers seem foreign in this strange land.

Maybe, Levi thinks to himself, just like all the rest of this town, the birds were looking for a new home.

“You know, you should try to teach them.”

Levi’s bored expression swerves in your direction. You’re back to leaning on the window sill, while he sits on the rooftop. A routine, these last weeks.

“What?” Levi mutters.

“Your combat skills. I saw you at training again. I’ve never seen anything quite like the way you handle yourself. You should teach the other cadets.”

His eyes narrow. “Why would I do that?”

“You’ve been out there, right? Seen what the titans are like? You could save their lives.”

The square of Mare is quiet at this time of the evening. A half-moon hangs lazily over the black sky, casting its silver glow over Mare.

You’ve both been drinking. Cheap, bubbly, acidic. Cremant, a drink native to Marley. It was given to you by a shopkeeper when you picked up bread earlier—all it took was seeing you by his side and hearing you were new in town. The woman practically threw the bottle at you, offering it as a welcome gift. You tried to refuse, many times over, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer (“We need young blood around, so anythin’ to convince younglings like yourself to settle down!”).

Now, here you are, finishing the bottle together in a park. Levi sits with you on a bench, his wheelchair tucked behind it.

Silence.

Levi thinks there’s something on your mind. You’ve never been easy to read; you’ve got a tendency to hide and scheme, to play it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s always your lips that give you away. You bite them when you’re worried, you pout when you’re deep in thoughts.

“Hey.” Levi raises your attention, only to find gentle eagerness on your face. It makes him frown for some reason. “Say something.”

You seem a little taken aback by his directive. It’s rare for Levi to actually seek conversation after all, much less to be the one initiating it.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Levi shrugs. “I don’t know, just anything.”

“Like… what?”

Levi mulls it over. If it were him, he’d hate to be put on the spot and asked outright what to say. So he decides to try a tactic he’s seen you use on others—starting with something light before finding the right angle to tackle the actual subject.

“What was your favorite sight?” he inquires. “On your travels.”

“My… favorite sight?”

Levi gives you a look that makes it clear he’s not gonna repeat himself.

“The sea, of course.” You raise your feet on the bench, hugging your knees as you stare off pensively. “It’s funny, really. With every nation we visited, we saw mountains, deserts and forests… but I kept coming back to the sea.”

Levi remembers the first time he saw the sea. The water, glimmering like thousands of silver gems. The blue sky, coming to meet its shine. The 104th brats, with awestruck wonder. Hange and their brazen curiosity.

And you, the way you’d looked at him…

If ever there was a moment of peace during Levi’s years as a soldier, it was those blissful hours spent by the sea. It felt like the world had grown so big, and that there was only wonder to be discovered.

Of course, reality had caught up.

“I’m glad you’ve picked a place like this one to settle down,” you say. "It kind of feels like a homecoming, you know?"

"Yeah."

“The stars are so bright out here.”

Levi follows your line of sight.

This past year, Levi has rediscovered an admiration for stars. Back inside the Walls, they reminded him of Isabel and Furlan, of his dreams from another life. This past year, they’ve started making him think of you, too.

All because of one of your letters: 'Levi, do you ever think about the fact that, despite the distance that separates us, every night, when we look at the sky, we see the same stars?'

“What else,” he finds himself asking, “what else do you have to say about your travels?”

“Hmm… what do you want to know exactly? I wrote so much in my letters, I’d have thought you’d be tired of hearing about that topic.”

“Yeah, but you only described random shit. What was it like?”

What was it like without me?

That thought hangs on his tongue, begs for relief, but Levi bites it down. It’s not right for him to ask; it's none of his business.

And yet, your answer still takes him by surprise, “It was… hard.”

At that, Levi does raise a brow. He finds your gaze already on him.

“The sights were... nice, of course,” you explain. “I got to witness all manners of landscapes. Those were the photographs I sent you in my letters. But then, well, the rest came.”

You swallow loudly. Levi finds his heart squeezing, though he doesn’t fully understand why.

“Seeing the aftermath of the Rumbling…” Your lower lip quivers as the volume of your tone decreases. “It was horrifying. The emptiness was the worst. It’s not like murdering someone in cold blood, see. There, you have to deal with bodies. But, what Eren did…”

You shudder. Levi thinks you’re trying to even out your breathing, and a part of him wants to reach out to you and squeeze your hand. And yet, he knows there’s nothing he can do to really alleviate those images flashing in your brain. That nothing he does can make it right again, that the pain you feel is the cost both of you need to bear for the rest of your lives.

“After that, I went with Armin because I knew he would need help, because I always believed in diplomacy… because I still believe in it. Even now," you say. "But many nations hate the Eldians from Paradis. They hate us and maybe they have every right to hate us.”

You stop talking and close your eyes. For a while, the lull in conversation allows Levi to stare at you unabashedly, to commit your features to memory.

“Why did you never say any of this in your letters?” he asks mid-silence.

“I guess it felt easier not to mention it. I don’t know. I wanted you to hear hopeful things in my letters.”

“I’ve seen how shitty the world can be.”

“I know, but that’s exactly why.” Your eyes somehow find his own again. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know it’s still the same out there.”

It makes Levi’s blood rush, like he was some breakable thing that needed to be protected. “You don’t need to coddle me.”

And yet, you don’t even seem to notice the snap in his tone, your crossed arms tightening around your knees.

“I know, Levi,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t mean that my pain is your burden to bear.”

Seeing your deflated expression, dipped chin resting over your knees as you lose yourself to your thoughts, Levi’s defense mechanism fizzles away.

That’s the thing about you.

No matter how harshly he reacts, you never seem to rise to the same level as him, the way others did in the military, and it might be why Levi always found it easier to stay by your side.

“You dumbass,” he says with a sigh. Despite telling himself to hone it back, Levi can’t help but raise a hand to the back of your skull, ruffling your head gently—the only comfort he knows how to hand out right now. “Of course that’s my burden.”

The knot in your throat bobs. “Levi, you don’t—”

“Don’t give me that.” He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue. “Even I no longer have the rank to prove it… what does it matter? Nothing’s changed.”

Your voice comes out grated. “Nothing’s changed?”

Levi hesitates. So much hangs on this question. Of course, things have changed.

And yet…

Levi retreats his hand, patting his stiff leg. “Some things did.”

“Oh... does it still hurt a lot?”

“Some days more than others. The doctor has helped.”

“I’m glad. Are you still seeing him every other week?”

He nods.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Levi's eyes narrow. “You said that already.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He sighs, shaking his head. “Anyway, you gonna tell me why you stopped calling yourself a doctor?”

Different degrees of surprise flash across your face. Your eyes are wide as saucers, while your mouth stays slightly open.

Levi waits... and waits.

“Hey, you’re not trying to catch flies, are you?” he says, lifting a finger to poke at your chin.

His physical reminder seems to bring you back to the present.

At once, a pout forms on your lips. “How did you know I no longer want to be a doctor?”

Levi shrugs with one arm, pressing his back against the bench. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice so quickly." You let out a wry snort, shaking your head. "Should have known; you’re always so perceptive.”

“And you’re beating around the bush.”

“Indeed, I am. It’s just… I’m scared of your judgment.”

At that, Levi has to frown.

“Don’t give me that look, Levi Ackerman. Your judgment, yes. You’re a very scary man, just not for all the reasons people think you are.”

In the distance, the sound of seagulls drifts from the skies.

“When I asked you if I could come here…” you say after a moment, “I kept on thinking to myself: What will Levi think of me?” You raise one hand to your face, glancing at the scar that runs from your index to the lower part of your palm—a memento left by the Yaegerists. “What will he think of this hand?”

Levi stays silent.

Your smile turns bitter. “You always said my hands were made for healing. But after everything that happened, everything we did, they’re not anymore. They can’t be.”

“Hey—”

“—and the question kept playing in a loop in my head. Will Levi think I’m a coward? Will he think less of me for giving up on this? Is he gonna be done with me?”

Levi ignores all the ways you seem to include him in your insecurities and focuses on one thing only: “You’re a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them.”

You shake your head. “But I am a coward. I don’t have it in me to heal people, not like that anymore.”

Levi doesn’t know why, but there’s suddenly a sense of dread forming in his pit of his stomach. “Is that why you’re here?”

Your eyes fire back on him. “No, I didn’t come here to escape, or as a last resort.” You glance away. “But I do feel… lost.”

That makes Levi backtrack. You? Lost? The doctor who blazed through the Survey Corps’ ranks, making her demands known to the Interior and Erwin like it was no big deal, who pushed for changes to save soldiers' lives?

That doesn’t align with the person he knows.

“I don’t think it’s right anymore, the path I chose.” Your tone is suddenly more frail, more vulnerable. “The first three years after the Rumbling, it felt like the right thing to do, giving my skills in helping others but now… Now I feel like a fraud. To arrive here, I had to end lives.”

Levi’s throat is heavy. “We all did.”

You ignore his words. “The attack in Trost, the one in Liberio, and so many others…. I killed people there. I did. And I remember your words, Levi, about it being us or them but I… now, whenever I look at my hands, all I see is the stain of blood. After all of that, I just don’t think I’m fit to call myself a doctor anymore.”

“You shouldn’t regret the past.”

“Maybe. But it's easier said than done.”

“Is that why you’re now calling yourself Miss Adler?”

You nod.

Levi purses his lips. He cannot understand your perspective, not truly, because his own moral compass has never been set right. To him, killing was always about survival and there was never good or bad. There simply was the act and the aftermath. There was the fact that he needed to keep on pushing, for humanity.

Despite this, Levi wants to understand. He wants to tell you that your hands did heal, that they continue to heal in invisible ways. He wants to tell you that however you want to become want, it’s all fine to him.

“Then start over,” he declares, throwing an arm to the back of the bench.

“Yeah.” You snort, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric of your overalls. “It’s not that easy, starting over, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Levi would know. It’s not like he’s here to preach the moral high ground. “But if you want to, you’re the only one that can make it happen.”

“Yeah, I know.” You raise a hand to press against your right eye. Levi has the strange urge to tuck it away, to take it in between his own, but he holds himself back. “It’s just… hard. You know, when we were fighting titans, then humans, then nations… I just never considered who I would be after all of it. And when I found myself trying, I found I wasn’t the person I once was, that I couldn’t do what I would have done any more. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Old me would have kept on going. Old me would have continued to heal people and traveled and helped Armin with peace negotiations. And I tried. Walls, I tried, Levi. But at the end of the day, I just find myself… tired. I’m just so tired.”

Something heavy fills Levi’s chest. He understands, to a degree, what you’re going through. He knew his role was over the moment that the fighting stopped, but for you, the war hasn’t stopped raging—conflicted on where your place should be.

“Sorry," you say, "I know I’m wallowing here, that I’m throwing my own pity party. But, shit, it’s hard, you know?”

“Yeah. But it’s fine, to wallow. No one expects you not to have setbacks.”

“You don’t mean that. Weren’t you always telling soldiers not to linger and look back? Besides, I don’t get to say any of this in front of you. Not with everything you went through.”

Levi’s jaw clenches. “Hey. It’s not a competition.”

This time, he reaches for your hand and unclasps it, noticing you digging your nails into your skin. He forces you to squeeze his hand instead—only, now, you treat him with such care, not even applying pressure.

Levi takes it as his cue to drive his point home, “I only said what I said because a Scout’s life was a battlefield every day. But we’re not soldiers anymore.”

He sucks in a breath at those words; he realizes it’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud: We're not soldiers anymore. Levi's a hypocrite, saying these things, when he himself hasn’t let go completely. And yet, for your sake, he wants to pretend—he wants to pretend that there’s a way out for the both of you.

“So I’ve told you, the offer still stands," he adds. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

“Careful what you promise, Levi." You snort. "I’m going to be a real burden to you.”

“Only when you don’t clean.”

Your weak snicker turns into laughter. It might be the most enchanting of sounds Levi’s heard in a long while.

Levi lets go of your hand, despite the fact that he wishes he could hold on, but he tells himself that friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged moments. And that's what the two of you are. Friends.

“You know, when it came down to it… after months of introspection,” you say, voice soft, “all I knew is that I wanted to be near you.”

Oh.

“I stayed away for a year, thinking I could prove to myself, to you, that I wasn’t the needy person I once was," you say. "That I could, I don’t know, manage on my own. But all I got was… how much I missed you.”

Levi thinks his breathing might have stopped entirely.

“Levi, you’re… you’re important to me. You know that, right?” Your eyes find his own, glimmering under the moonlight. “I think… I just don’t want to not have you in my life anymore. Is that a strange thing to say?”

Levi is speechless. He stares at your lips, how plump and lovely they seem, glistening with moisture. He feels sweat on his back—damn this hellish warm weather—and he thinks perhaps he should act.

He forces his mouth open but instead of words—

Bang.

An explosion blasts in his ears.

Levi screws his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. There’s screams echoing in the back of his skull, bullets ricocheting against concrete. He smells the charred scent of bodies, sweet and off-putting.

But the fighting never comes. When he evens out his breathing, leaning his weight onto the bench, he notices—

You’re on the floor.

Your hands are covering your ears, your lower lip wobbling. You’re muttering things under your breath, things Levi can’t recognize, but there’s tears brimming the corner of your eyes, and Levi realizes then what happened.

You’re hyperventilating.

At once, Levi is by your side, bending down. The action causes his legs to scream in pain, but he promptly ignores it. He sees you and only you.

You, on the other hand, are unable to look at him; you whimper erratically.

Levi can deduce the source of your panic, because he’s had his own moments like this. It’s the way certain noises, smells, and others pull him back into the past. It must be the same for you.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice comes low and clear, trying to muster it all for you, “take a deep breath. It's not guns. Just fireworks some teenagers are toying with.”

But you seem unable to follow his advice, shaken as you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears clumping, streaming thick down the valleys of your cheeks. He sees your fingers pull at the strands of your hair.

Before he can think about it, his arms reach out of you, looping around the small of your back, where he draws you in. He presses you firmly against him. At first, you attempt to fight him back, muttering “no, no, no,” beneath your breath, but when Levi finally manages to smooth over your words with his own, you stop fighting.

Your head slumps down into the crest of his shoulder, like you were just a ragdoll gone limp. Levi tries to ignore the way his worry doubles down.

“Adler, listen to my voice,” he urges, trying to use things that have helped him during his worst panic attacks, during his worst episodes. Of course, Levi never allowed anyone to see him like this, but if he had, he thinks this would have helped. “Your ear’s pressed against my heart right now. Do you hear my heartbeat?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, voice barely a raw whisper. The sound is enough to shatter something in Levi. It’s so small, so fragile.

“Focus on it," he says. "Focus on me speaking. Pretend that it’s the only sound in the world.”

You seem to attempt to laugh, but it comes across as another nervous sob, hiccups strangling your words. “S-someone thinks h-ighly of his v-voice.”

Levi just clicks his tongue, tightening his hold on you.

Your hands interweave with the collar of his shirt, and you bury your face deeper into his neck. It takes several moments, but he feels the tension in your spine untangle, vertebrate by vertebrate.

“Steady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You’re alright.”

Your warm lips, drenched with tears, move against his neck. “I just can’t do it, ‘Vi… I just can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’m fucking stuck and I feel so guilty there’s always noises in my brain…” A sob cracks out of you. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“But you’re not alone.”

Your knuckles tighten, but your breath falters.

“You’re not alone,” Levi repeats. His three-fingered hand weaves through the hair at the back of your skull, mingling between your locks. He’s reminded of another time, long ago, when he did this after Nanaba died. “Even if you feel lost right now.”

“I just—I don’t want to be a bother. I don't want to overstay my w-welcome.”

“You’re not. You can stay as long as you want.” Until you grow tired of me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You’re still hiccuping for air as you draw away from him. You seem to be searching for something, dazed and blurry.

“Y-you don’t mind?” you ask.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

"I... I guess not."

For a while, neither Levi nor you say anything else. He watches as your eyes cast down, eyelashes still full of tears. Your breath is back to being steady, though no less frail.

Eventually, your digits settle over his forearms, looking back at him with puffy eyes.

He offers you his clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.

You take it with a crooked smile, staring down at the white cloth. “Thank you, Levi. I mean it.”

Levi looks away; he doesn't think he's done much.

“Walls.” You hiccup, lifting the handkerchief to your eyes. “I’ve made a scene, haven’t I? It’s the alcohol, I s-swear. I barely d-drink these days.”

“You were always a lightweight.”

“Pff, don’t remind me.”

“Well, judging by the brats walking towards us," he looks over your shoulders, "they’ve come to apologize.”

Sure enough, moments later, as you help Levi up and you both sit back down on the bench, three snotty kids approach the scene with a look of apology plastered on their faces.

One of them, a boy with vibrant ginger hair, takes the lead. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

You sniffle, eyes still red. “Fine—”

“She’s not fine, brat,” Levi interjects. “Don’t light this shit up in public.”

The boy grimaces with the kind of juvenile innocence only kids can muster.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say, giving Levi a look. “But hey, do try to be careful, ‘kay? Don’t light up things like this all on your own. Fireworks are dangerous, not to mention they’re scary when they’re up so close.”

“I... I won't do it no more, ma’am…" the boy says. "I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”

The boy nods before finally fleeting up and meeting Levi's glare. The child instantly cowers back.

“Mistakes happen," Levi grumbles with a softer tone. "Just be more careful.”

“Y-yeah, mister. Won’t happen again.”

"Good."

Erwin finds you in the stables one day. “Levi is integrating with the squad.”

You stop cleaning your horse, raising a brow at the man. “Is he now?”

“Mm." There's wistful amusement on Erwin's face. "He's giving advice to his comrades.”

"Is that right?"

That night, when you greet Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary, you don't say a thing about this exchange, but you'll smile just a bit brighter at him anyway.

Levi comes back from his evening shower to find something waiting for him in his bedroom. A piece of paper, carefully folded in three, is placed on his cabinet. Next to it is a medium-sized, black pouch.

Levi first unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find that it’s a letter and that it’s from you.

Levi, You’ll excuse me for coming in without asking, but you insinuated I should make myself comfortable, so… Here I am. You know, if you're going to let me pay for things, then it’s decided: I’m going to bribe you with new tea! No, you can’t fight me on that. As you know, I’m a force of nature—unstoppable. Here’s a new blend for you. I know for certain you haven’t tried this one because it’s straight from my travels. I don’t know why I waited a week to give it to you, but I hope you like it. Your amazing new roomie, - A.

Levi’s lips twitch. He can just picture you scribbling those words in your room, a grin on your face, waiting for him to take a shower just so you can place this handout in secret.

He briefly puts the letter back down, moving to open the gift. The black pouch hides a tea tin of simple design, with an etiquette that’s handwritten. White pu-erh tea. He slowly unscrews the sealed top, bringing it close to his nose to inhale its potent fragrant. Tea aromas, rich in citrus, fill his brain with a lovely buzzing effect. It smells nice, unlike anything he’s encountered before and Levi thinks its taste will be to his liking—that you picked it knowing it would.

His eyes stray back to the letter, picking it back up. He loves the way you write his name, the way you loop the letters together. It's elegant.

With his heart just a bit lighter than usual, Levi adds your letter to the chest under his bed, filled with the rest of your correspondence.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I was really touched by all the engagement the first chapter got, truly, so thank you for that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hey, if you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts in any shape or form! Take care <3

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moonbaby26 · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Proposal

(Chapter 16 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, manipulation, angst

Chapter Synopsis: Still feeling pressure from both real and perceived enemies abroad, Doflamingo gives into his insecurities and chooses to take your and his relationship public at last.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

——————————

For as wealthy of a country as Dressrosa was supposedly becoming, shade clearly wasn’t something they’d yet found important enough for including in colosseum upgrades.

You’d had no choice but to fully cover up in layers of clothing today to hide your many injuries. But no matter how you sat now, legs crossed or not, marine coat unbuttoned or not, there was zero breeze and you were getting hot beneath that persistent sun.

Having this tall, pink bird radiating his additional body heat as he insisted on staying hip to hip with you in the booth was not helping either of course.

Feathers grazed against you as you took yet another drink of the iced juice his servants had offered. But you really wanted to put that cold glass against the side of your face. You would have too if the damn cameras hadn’t kept checking back in at the worst times while the sounds of more weapons clashing carried up from below.

But it really was like some higher power just kept kicking you again when you were already down.

Because the juice was pulpy, and overly sweet for your tastes. Something Doflamingo had said was his preference when he’d seen you choose it earlier. So you should have blamed him. When on that final sip something harder in the pulp had caught right in the back of your throat.

Debris that was perfectly sized, too small to force down with additional swallowing. But just big enough to trigger a coughing fit as you left your now empty glass on the ledge of the booth.

You grabbed Doflamingo’s drink next. Some rich, dark beer you’d never heard of. Something you were not supposed to be drinking on duty anyway as you suddenly downed it like it was a late night, after hours in Marineford instead.

“Shit.” You still coughed several more times, but feeling that piece finally dislodge in the rush of alcohol.

“Well...I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone try to drown themselves with pomegranate juice before.” His mocking tone accompanied the stare you’d obviously now earned. “Did you forget the difference between breathing and drinking for a moment there, marine?”

And you glared up at him, everything only made worse when you saw that condescending expression on his face.

“Seeds got caught in my throat, you jerk. If you wanted your juice that damn thick, you should have just stuck a straw in a raw fruit for gods’ sake!”

But you saw the weird way Doflamingo paused. And then abruptly, the way the muscles in his brow shifted to give away that his smile had now spread to his concealed eyes.

“You swallowed the seeds then?”

“Well yes.” But such a simple question was far more off putting when he was now looking at you like that. “Should I have spit them out onto you instead?” You tried to fuss back, flustered really of what could possibly be going through that mess of his mind now.

“They don’t teach much literature in those naval classes do they?” He just answered with a question of his own, still looking inexplicably amused. “Just books on a thousand ways to tie ropes and how to properly mop decks then?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” You retorted, even still coughing an additional time then.

“I have an entire library back at the palace you know.” He said, even as he made a gesture with his hand to summon another drink tray. “I think I’ll pick out some books on this for you tomorrow. You’ll need something to do anyway while I’m back in meetings. I’d hate for you to be too bored and lonely, just pining for my return all day.”

Of course his taunting tone said otherwise. He’d love you to have nothing better to do than just lay around for hours waiting for him to climb back on top of you, you were sure.

“Go to hell.” You huffed, albeit still gladly taking a water this time as the servants were back before you both then.

“Already there, darling.” He quipped, still grinning as he grabbed another beer from their tray in replacement of the one you’d just demolished for him.

“And we have our first knockout of the competition!” The announcer’s voice boomed with excitement as you and Doflamingo finally looked away from one another and to the scene below then.

You’d already learned that everything was so over the top in this place, bordering on barbaric honestly.

But you’d done your best to reserve your judgement every time the crowd’s energy had surged when new wounds were opened up or bones were broken in the colosseum battles.

Because it might just be the culture here. Every island had its own traditions, its own history within reason.

Yet when the winner of this latest match began approaching his now unconscious opponent, spear angling further downward to take new aim, you nearly stood.

That was finally well beyond reason to you.

“He’s already down!” You said to the warlord. Your hand had closed on Doflamingo’s forearm in reflex.

And the fresh cruelty budding in that pirate’s smile while he looked from your hand now gripped onto his arm, and then back to your concerned face made you pause all over again.

“Oh, dear woman…a good bloodletting gets these animals excited like the hateful things they really are. Are you going to deny them this release?”

“There are children here.” You managed to retort. But the fresh tinge of disgust was obvious in your eyes.

These were people, not things.

Doflamingo still chuckled, like a mix of false sympathy and real distaste as his own hand abruptly rose above you. “And you are far too predictable, love. You’ll owe me again for this one.”

And the previous roar of the crowd quieted in the resulting confusion.

Only with the snail cameras then zooming in were you able to see that true result on the screen. Your surprise matching the other spectators as what now looked like a spider’s web had materialized from nowhere to block the kill shot.

The aggressor’s spear now hung in midair from where it’d been thrown. Its sharp metal tip pressed into that web, unable to penetrate past it and cross just those few inches that remained to the target’s throat.

“And…and I can’t believe it, ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer exclaimed again. “His majesty has interceded into the fight! Sire!? Would you like to address the crowd!?”

Some woman in gladiator attire was then at the booth before you knew it. She appeared to be part of the colosseum workers as she bowed in respect all the while offering Doflamingo a microphone.

You heard the warlord laugh quietly, speaking just to you before that microphone was in range to pick his voice up.

“See the trouble you’ve started?” He chided.

And yet he still took that microphone from her as if this was also second nature to him. No hesitation at all as he relaxed further back into the stone seating beside you.

His arm went tight around your shoulders to keep you in that resulting camera shot with him as well.

“I’m only being a hospitable host, Gatz.” Doflamingo’s best charismatic tone now echoed through the colosseum as he addressed the announcer by name. The whole venue was now silent except for their king.

“The captain here isn’t yet acclimated to the normal rules our gladiators live and die by. Just now, she expressed an interest to me in seeing even this loser have an opportunity to fight another day. Because she believes adversity can sometimes lead to improvement, even within the weak.”

He gave a slight sneer then, but remained relatively calm. “I disagree of course. However, I promised her we could try things her way just for today. So not only will there be no executions during today’s events…”

And he did pause briefly there, anticipating the crowd’s palpable shock. But he knew just when to continue as well, keeping them enraptured as he then dropped the next apparent change.

“But also, at the conclusion of today’s competition, the captain will also be granted one pick from all current participants to grant a full royal pardon to. And that gladiator will walk free from the colosseum this very evening, by her grace alone.”

You hadn’t known a thing about this of course. But your instincts were quick to believe it wasn’t at all an improvisation.

He’d planned this.

He’d known exactly how you were going to react as the battles worsened, and you’d played right into it.

And now he was doing his favorite trick again because of that. Controlling you at the exchange of human lives.

In Mariejois you’d submitted to him under the implication of him harming both yourself and your crew if you’d revealed him as Joker.

In Sabaody, he’d freed slaves from his own auction house in exchange for your promising to soon meet him again.

And in Scylla, he’d demanded your fidelity and made you promise to always return to him. Otherwise the life lost would clearly be your own.

“So I’d advise our competitors to do their best to impress her. She’s got very high standards after all.” Doflamingo still added, briefly smirking down at you.

He was complimenting himself of course there, implying that he was already one of your so called “high standard” choices.

With so much amusement, this man could make an instant game out of people’s lives and freedom. All the while still having the gall to stroke his own ego right on top of it.

—————————

And just those few hours later, he was already refusing to help you at all in this dilemma he’d so gladly created.

“Just fucking pick one.” Doflamingo drawled, sounding bored by then as Gatz was still talking over you both across the stadium speakers. The battles were done at last, the competitors reentering the arena one by one as the announcer reintroduced them to go through the final motions.

The sun was just beginning to set. Something you couldn’t even appreciate as the sky began changing to vibrant hues of pink and red.

Because you didn’t have an answer yet.

“That isn’t fair to them.” You insisted. “It can’t just be random.”

The warlord’s lips upturned a little, yet another beer still in his hand. “Then be lazy and let the crowd choose for you. I don’t care. Just hurry up. My ass is falling asleep. I’m tired of sitting here.”

“This whole production was your idea, you dick!”

“Yeah well, the fights take that much longer when they can’t just kill one another. It’s still your fault this had to be so drawn out.”

You made a dissatisfied sound in your irritation. He wanted you to just pick whoever the crowd had seemed most fanatic about. But you weren’t feeling that. Because they had cheered loudest for only the most violent participants.

Which seemed like a terrible criteria for choosing the person who was about to be released back into society.

Yet you could feel that Gatz was about to direct the cameras back to the royal booth at any moment.

Fuck. You were just going to have to go with your instincts. You didn’t have any information on each prisoner’s actual crimes to do any better with this.

“The tall guy with the tattoo and the ponytail.” You said quickly to Doflamingo then.

The fighter you now referenced was one of the first to have come back into the stadium in this final showing, and you’d already forgotten what Gatz had called him.

But Doflamingo did sit up a little more then, looking down at them all to see who you meant. Yet you saw his smirk fade once his gaze found the only man that matched your description.

“Fine. A deal’s a deal.”

And with almost a huff, the warlord made a sudden gesture with his hand. You’d known the executives were close by. Yet it’d still surprised you when Diamante was abruptly leaning in behind you both at that nonverbal summons.

“Yes, Doffy?” That creep of a man asked, far too close for your comfort.

“Diamante, remind me. What’s that fucker’s name? The one with the ink nearly on his cock. She likes him apparently.” Doflamingo grumbled, his fingers tightening on your side as his arm had moved back around your waist.

And you had to stare at the pirate when he gave this new description.

Because yes, that prisoner was shirtless and had a lower abdominal tattoo. With the bottom of that image partly obscured by the belt line of his loincloth.

But for all that was holy, did Doflamingo actually have a hint of jealousy in his voice again now? As if physical appearance had anything to do with your pick?

Diamante did answer easily with the name though. “He was one of Riku’s army captains.” He also added after with evident distaste.

“Wait…what?” you tried to interrupt at that. Because your true, only reason for choosing that particular gladiator was that in all the fighters you’d watched, he’d shown the most restraint.

Someone with real self control that you’d hoped would be the least likely to threaten an average citizen once freed.

But if they were now saying that he was part of the previous regime that had slaughtered those very same citizens under Riku’s command, then these two things just didn’t add up to you.

Could your instinct be that wrong?

“Does that mean he participated in Riku’s attack?” You asked seriously, butting in again.

“Of course he did. But I told you to pick someone the crowd liked. You wouldn’t do it. This is on you.” Doflamingo sneered a little at that, still confirming your choice regardless. “That’s the one you’re letting go, Diamante. Go tell Gatz. And remind him of my announcement too.”

“Yes, Doffy.” Diamante didn’t argue, though he also looked displeased with you before he was gone again soon enough.

And you must have had an expression of further concern on your own face, worrying over the possible ramifications of this as you heard Doflamingo finally chuckle again.

As if he couldn’t stay irritable with you when you were just this pathetic.

“Poor thing. Not easy making these decisions, is it?” He asked you. He was now rubbing your side with that large hand. “Don’t worry, we’re almost done here. And then I’ll be all yours again.”

———————————

Gatz had loudly announced your choice of who to pardon, and as expected the crowd had given a mixed reaction at best.

Their resentment to anyone associated with Riku’s former regime was still so visceral. A joke that just kept on giving as Doflamingo couldn’t help but gloat a bit.

Because they were all so fucking gullible. In that prisoner, they only saw someone who had once ravaged their own people without hesitation.

But you, a woman who had been here at the colosseum all of a single afternoon, had already seen straight through this. You’d zeroed in on likely the least corrupted in all of the current choices and picked accordingly.

It was impressive really. Highly annoying to him, but impressive none the less.

And Doflamingo had rolled his eyes behind his glasses when that now former prisoner did fall to his knees in the arena at the news of his unexpected freedom.

The idiot was actually crying by then, crying about soon being reunited with his family and thanking you over and over. While Gatz was playing the storyline up all the more, waxing poetic about your supposed indiscriminate mercy and unique capacity for forgiveness as you looked entirely uncomfortable in the whole situation.

But Doflamingo knew it would still work out in the long run. A single, former Riku loyalist back on the loose was no concern to him after all. Because this was perfect bait for others to follow.

Your kindness could soon become like a goddamn siren call to flush out his enemies.

His irresistible siren.

That wasn’t an inaccurate metaphor really.

And as Gatz gradually finished up, Doflamingo was now taking slightly deeper breaths himself without willing it.

His muscles were tensing and releasing again as he downed the rest of his current beer.

The real show was finally at hand. What he’d been waiting for all afternoon.

And that actual tinge of nervousness was still foreign to him as his hand had returned to his pants’ pocket, fingers tightening around that ring.

“And before the official conclusion of today’s events, it has been commanded that all you good people of Dressrosa please remain seated! As his royal highness, king Donquixote Doflamingo has an announcement to make!”

And their king did stand then, postured at his full height as the snail cameras had to zoom out to then keep you both in frame on the stadium’s screen.

You were sitting properly again for the cameras of course, with your back straight and your eyes cautiously on him. His disciplined marine once more.

Because you did know how to play this part of the game, whether you could yet admit it or not. The falsehood of putting on a strong front.

Another colosseum worker had scurried over then, presenting Doflamingo with a microphone again. He took it to hold in one of his hands, your ring hooked with his fingertip by the other hand still in his pocket.

“Citizens of Dressrosa…” Doflamingo’s smooth voice filled the stadium as all else quieted once more. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the festivities today. And I’m glad everyone could be here this evening on such short notice. As I do have a confession to make that concerns us all.” And his grin widened further in the dark humor of that implication.

Because there were a thousand crimes that would have lit this place up in an instant if he had divulged even a single one of them.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” His heart was beginning to pound regardless.

But he liked it.

He liked the thrill in this risk versus reward.

He had waited so long for this.

“But that secrecy has been for a very good reason. Because the media would have spun this out of control as they’ve already tried to do. So much so that the very peace and stability of this island may have been threatened.”

He was still smiling, letting the lies begin to flow easier and easier from his wicked mouth.

“And I knew I owed it to you, the loyal denizens of this country to be the first to hear it direct from me when the time was right. To tell you of the choice I’ve made which will affect all our futures.”

And now he did see you, in the peripheral vision of his good eye as you started to look more stressed. That flicker of panic beginning behind those lovely eyes of yours.

You really were a smart girl where it mattered. Thankfully so, as he’d have tolerated little else in the long run.

He glanced down to you, turning his head to do so. He was making his attention on you undeniable again for those cameras.

“You see, contrary to prior reports, this woman is far from a recent acquaintance to me.”

If everyone was to know, then of course he would put his own spin on the narrative. He could rewrite this as easily as Morgans could.

Doflamingo would make it what he wanted it to be. Not what it really was.

“The captain here is a distinguished marine, yes. Which unfortunately, put us briefly on opposing sides some years ago.”

Oh, the way he knew he was already sanitizing this. As if talking about only a sporting like competition between the two of you then, rather than a trading of blood, bullets, and the warships that’d been out for his hide.

“But as we all know, through my own merit and perseverance, I also rose so quickly to be recognized for what I really was.”

And goddamn, it was actually fun to say this with almost a straight face. “No longer just a pirate, but a guardian of this world. One of the seven warlords, standing now beside her marines as a crucial pillar in the balance of powers on behalf of our world government.”

He was acting as if you two were truly the same, as if you always had been. That you were the self-sacrificing defenders of all these wretches now hanging on his every word.

And your hands were clenching against the top of your skirt in your lap again.

It was all utter bullshit and you knew it.

His grin widened.

“But I always desired her.”

An actual truth abruptly there.

He saw your lips part slightly. A sudden gun to your head likely would have provoked less surprise now in your eyes.

“So the very moment that ink was dry on my government contract, when my name was rightfully cleared and my honor restored, I called on this woman of course.”

His fingers were anxiously turning that ring in his pocket now.

“And we’ve been together ever since. In secret to protect her career from all the close minded fools who may still not accept this truth of our shared feelings.”

A sound went through the crowd of course, that mix of true surprise and excitement.

It was every trope he could throw into this. The star crossed lovers, the lonely heroes, the redeemed king pining for his mate that should be untouchable by the prior blood on his hands.

But he still wasn’t done. Because Doflamingo always wanted it all. And he refused to share you even with the ghosts of your past.

“We even went so far as to fabricate other brief relationships to throw the public off of our scent. Just peers of ours who were willing to let their names be tossed into the rumor mill here and there in order to protect us.”

Kuzan, Crocodile, Smoker…fuck them all. They’d had their chances and burned you both. They weren’t going to get any secondary fame any longer because of it.

This was his spotlight now.

“But after three years together…” He was counting from the day he became a warlord of course. At least giving you that sliver of mercy to imply the fucking hadn’t started until he had immunity from prosecution. When he was no longer legally a criminal at least.

When in reality, your very first physical time together had been closer to only three months ago. That day in Mariejois when he’d first closed his hand around your throat and then pounded his raw cock into you for all he was worth not long after. A whole new euphoria he would never forget that initial dose of.

“We’re not going to hide this any longer.”

His chest tightened as he felt that tangible flare of your haki. But he doubted you would dare strike him here. Not in front of everyone at least.

Doflamingo smiled.

Didn’t you know that fire inside only made him want you all the more?

“And this country will become even safer under her and my dual protection. We will have a marine port of call established here, just as we implied in Scylla. Dressrosa will be the new home for both her subordinates, as well as the roots for our future royal family.”

The cameras were flashing like lightning, the crowd’s roar the resulting thunder as he finally slid that ring from his pocket.

Your whole identity, your career, and your freedom was likely burning right before you as he saw your eyes look at that jeweled band in the fading sunlight.

A large diamond was in its center, rising above smaller rubies framing it as if they were droplets of blood. Their red reflection casting almost a pink hue across that larger faceted stone.

Like the diamond itself was a survivor rising from the blood of the battlefield.

There’d been no other choice in his mind as soon as he’d seen this ring. He’d known it was perfect.

Like you.

“Marry me.” And Doflamingo’s dark voice said those two words so simply. Firmly for all to hear across the speakers as he held that ring between the two of you.

There was no intonation of a question in that command, but he did not reach for you either to force your hand.

He was still standing, looking down at you. You were seated, so still in the silence that had consumed the colosseum once more as his subjects awaited your answer.

He would not kneel of course. Only in the privacy of the bedroom and within the throws of full passion would he ever do that for you.

No, here in front of all these nameless fleas, it was up to you to rise to meet him. To be worthy of this honor as he loomed above you.

And he did see you take a deep breath. Your haki had stabilized again at last, quieting in tandem to your careful body language as you did stand to your feet.

You held your head up, a forced grace that still didn’t match the sharp look in your eyes. You were staring into those red sunglasses of his in a way that made his stomach tighten.

Like a lioness on a too thin chain.

It could still all go wrong. Because your desire was unclear and wavering. You couldn’t win, but he knew that you could hurt him.

Did you want to hurt him?

His armament was ready. His heart was pounding.

And then you exhaled.

You raised your left hand up from your side, holding it out flat before him.

“Yes.”

Doflamingo did blink behind his glasses at such a small, yet life changing word. The surrender from you that was all it took to launch the crowd into an explosion of hysterics and roaring cheers as he did slip that ring onto your waiting finger.

Their new noise shook the stadium louder than anytime he’d ever heard before as he watched you with some amazement.

He’d abandoned the microphone now, tossed away for someone else to catch or not. He didn’t care.

He didn’t see anything but you in this moment as he squatted slightly, leaning down as well. Whatever he needed to do to catch you by the lips as he’d tilted your head back when the urge overcame him. His grip then so tight beneath your jaw.

And if you really had blasted him with every ounce of haki you possessed in that moment, he still would not have stopped. His mouth was back over yours, fully greedy and exhilarated.

It was now the kiss of victory for all to see as the crowd continued to scream and the cameras flashed.

——————————

“Do you want to answer any of their questions?” Doflamingo breathed against your ear. His taste was still fully in your mouth by the time he’d released your lips again. That kiss had been so rough and you could tell he still wanted more, much more.

But you were having trouble catching your breath. The noise, the camera flashes, and the remaining heat you’d endured for hours now were all culminating into this oppressive crush down upon you.

You really couldn’t breathe. Your pulse was racing. “No.” It was nearly a plea. “I want to go.” You said against his open shirt.

And for that single moment at least he did listen to you. He heeded you immediately.

You heard him call out to Trebol. The closest executive then to you both, that snotty piece of shit that you still refused to even look at.

“We’re heading somewhere quieter!” Doflamingo still had to be loud to be heard above the crowd. “Call me when they’re ready at the palace!”

“Will do, Doffy!”

And that was it. No other warning except for the way Doflamingo’s arms encircled you even tighter before your organs felt like they were being ripped down into your feet.

The ground was gone. The only noise then the air rushing past your ears as you closed your eyes in reflex to that sudden blast.

Any exposed skin you had now registered the temperature change as well. Everything around you abruptly cold and drier then as all went silent once the movement had stopped again.

You could feel your legs hanging freely now. Your arms moved up to slide tightly around Doflamingo’s neck as you dared to take another breath.

“Fuck…” You panted quietly, your eyes opening again even as you refused to look fully down just yet.

“Yes. The air is a good deal thinner up here. But it’s private. Silent. The birds don’t even come this high.”

And your wholly unorthodox method of transportation was now breathing deeper himself to adjust. His bare chest still so warm against you in contrast to the ever growing darkness, and the creeping cold which accompanied it.

The sun would soon be slipping completely below that far off horizon. The ocean mainly all you could still see. The island of Dressrosa was now just a small circle within it, the lights of the towns nothing bigger than fireflies at this distance.

“I meant…that I wanted to go back to the palace.” You at last responded, trying to regather yourself.

“And miss this view from heaven?” He taunted you still.

But as his grip on you started to loosen, your natural fear only began to rise. Your body knew it did not belong up here, literally now just an arm’s reach from the bottom edges of the clouds his strings were somehow suspending him from.

This was the very reason mother ocean detested unnatural talents such as his.

“Doffy...” You tried again, still unable to calm your now racing heart.

“Don’t tell me I’ve finally found something that my woman is actually afraid of?” And that grin of his was so infuriatingly smug.

“You know this isn’t…at least this isn’t the only reason I’m having a…I don’t even know what I’m having.”

A meltdown? Another panic attack? A complete shattering of everything you’d ever been and had worked so desperately to achieve?

“Why didn’t you at least warn me that you were going to do it this way!?” Your voice finally broke then as you looked to his face again.

His smile was fading. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“You lied and told everyone we’ve been together this whole time!”

This was not how it was supposed to be.

And he was just watching you as if this was of no consequence while you went on.

“You just told the entire world that I have been going behind my commander’s back for fucking years, Doflamingo. And that everyone who knew about me and Kuzan or me and Smoker can now call me a cheating bitch…when I’m not, none of that is true!”

And you saw his brow change as soon as their names were mentioned. You knew he was beginning to glare at you from behind those crimson lenses.

“By all means, let’s talk about your other men and their feelings on this while I dangle you a few thousand feet above sea level. That sounds reasonable to me.” He sneered at you.

His hands had closed around your wrists. He was pulling your arms away from his neck now. Your body was starting to slip.

A clear threat, but you knew he was somewhat bluffing. He wouldn’t kill you outright, not tonight at least. Not right after a display like that at the colosseum. He had to keep this farce going in front of the public in the short term at least, lest he be the one to look like a fool.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish you if you kept going.

You were sure he could let you fall as many times as he wanted. Then catch you at the last moment just to do it all over again.

And he would absolutely be that cruel if you instigated this further.

But you were also so angry, that you truly didn’t care any longer.

“Then do it.” Your voice broke again. “If you’re really that goddamn hateful! Have your laugh and torture me like you would anyone else. I’m tired of trying to make you understand what you clearly don’t want to!”

You saw him pause as your voice rose further at him. Though he was now holding you by only one wrist as you watched him defiantly, waiting for the drop.

You knew his pride wouldn’t allow any other response. You knew that he was going to do it. That he would think he had to do it.

His only hesitation may be in his disbelief that you were actually choosing this.

That was the only thing you could assume as a grunt came from that man’s throat instead of a laugh. There was no smile. It only looked like an involuntary twitch of stress pulling the corner of his mouth further down.

An expression of actual misery just before his hand snapped open and you plummeted.

The fucking idiot.

And you didn’t scream. Somehow you forced yourself not to. Your eyes closed tightly as you crossed your arms over your chest and put your ankles together beneath you.

This was the safest way you might dive feet first into the ocean from the highest rigging overhanging the water off of a ship.

You had to pretend that’s all this was.

From this height a body would be nothing but a splat of blood and viscera though. Something unrecognizable if you made it that far.

The timing was so hard to tell with your eyes closed though.

Just that terrible feeling and the wind rushing past your ears again as the back of your coat fluttered up behind you.

It probably wouldn’t have even hurt. Death like that would have been instant.

What did hurt was the abrupt deceleration. Only then had you gasped, the pain sudden as your body stopped but your insides didn’t.

Your eyes opened as you clutched at your torso, feeling like things had actually tried to rip inside. Things that never should have moved at all as you twisted in his new strings.

Even through your harsh breathing you could now hear the sea. And your eyes widened when you realized how close it really all was. You could see the waves, breaking gently in the night’s breeze.

A secluded beach was just beneath you. Outside of that rocky ring of cliff face that surrounded most of Dressrosa.

And then the strings had moved again. You were jerked down before being dumped right into that warm sand.

You stumbled, falling onto your knees. But you were still holding your body just below your breasts.

You were too mad to cry by then. You just moved to sit in that sand, not even looking up as those long black shoes met the beach not long after and already began approaching you.

“I guess I forget that I string my insides as well to absorb that shock without thinking.” His tone was cold, almost monotone now. “And you can’t.”

You bit your own lip, refusing to look up at him yet.

And in all of it. In everything he’d just said and done this evening, what you still hated more than anything was how your heart felt like it was going to twist itself in two.

And that had nothing to do with the fall.

“Doffy…” You said his name in continued irritation, but with grief beginning to show fully on your face.

Even out of your peripheral vision you saw him straighten up at that single word.

“Do you know what’s the single thing holding me back from loving a man like you?”

What a loaded and entirely dangerous question that was. But you gave him no time to respond. You were yelling at this fucking monster next as you glared back up at him, grief and frustration bursting back out all together then.

“It’s only self preservation! Not self respect, not being a marine, not Tsuru, not Kuzan, not even your fucking crimes! I just want to be able to fucking trust you! For one goddamn day for you to not be a complete nightmare! I don’t understand…you say you goddamn want me. You beg me to stay, to say that I love you. And yet you still treat me like this, every single day. Nearly every day you find a new way to hurt me! I can’t do it. I’m not unbreakable. You’re going to kill me eventually! So why not just do it and be done!?”

He stared at you, silent for several moments. But you could see that blood vessel rising on his forehead.

“Why did you say yes to me so easily then?” His voice was so different there, so strained when it finally came.

And you didn’t hesitate to respond to that, regardless of the rising danger once more. “The easy answer? I didn’t want you to have a tantrum and start slicing through people of course!”

But you still scoffed, not stopping there either. “But the truth? I don’t want to be alone either, you asshole! And I know that no one else is ever going to stay with me for long. Because there is something very wrong with me. Something that only you aren’t afraid of. I don’t know why! But it’s a goddamn curse!”

You heard a low growl from him then even as those waves still moved rhythmically in and out along the shore.

“It’s not my fault.”

He said this so suddenly, so oddly, that you just had to stare at him as you watched his fist clench at his side.

“The way I treat you…it isn’t my fault!” He hissed at you as you felt that return glare from behind the glasses. His frustration breaking loudly at last. “You drive me fucking crazy! If you would just obey! If you would listen!”

You started to snap back at him. “I’m not your fucking slave! I-“

And he cut you off so quickly. “I don’t care about that! I don’t want you to die! Don’t you understand!? You’re the only one that makes me feel wanted, desired. It’s not transactional, it’s not fucking fake.” He was gritting his teeth, like he couldn’t explain this in the correct words. Like the correct words didn’t exist.

You gestured in exasperation, disbelieving, but knowing this was all the worse if true. “Then you have to work harder! You’re the only one who can protect me from you. If I die, it’s going to be because of you! Don’t you see that!?”

“Then help me!” He yelled right back at you, teeth bared and voice desperate.

This was two insane people now screaming at one another on what should have been a romantic, private beach just after sunset.

And you with a beautiful new engagement ring sparkling on your finger in the starlight all the while.

That finger which now clenched with your others into a fist against your hip. The anger just too much to possibly maintain.

“Fuck, I need alcohol.” You breathed, feeling like you could have punched a hole into a mountain right now if you’d really tried.

But you didn’t want to. And you sensed Doflamingo still all bristled up a few steps away as you told him as much. “I’m not fighting you.”

You did see his shoulders lower slightly, but that blood vessel in his forehead was still pulsing away.

“We’re getting married tonight regardless.” Doflamingo exhaled next, beginning to pace. “I’m not backing down. You’re signing those papers as soon as they’re ready at the palace. Trebol will call when the official arrives to bear witness.”

“And why does it have to be tonight?” You asked more tiredly then. Nothing was really going to surprise you any longer. You had met your limit for today.

“Because I don’t trust anyone either. When my stunt at the colosseum hits the newspapers tomorrow, someone’s going to try and stop us. I know they are. So you’ll smile, you’ll sign every goddamn paper I put in front of you, and it will all be faxed to Mariejois tonight. By morning you’ll already be Mrs. Donquixote and everyone else can go fuck themselves.”

“How romantic.” You answered, your chin now resting on your knees that were pulled up to your chest as you remained sitting in the sand.

And at last it was quiet then. Just the calm of the waves for a while.

Doflamingo had finally stopped pacing, standing there with his hands in his pockets watching the horizon.

For several minutes he remained there, lost in his own thoughts about who knew what before he turned to look at you again.

You heard him sigh, something he didn’t do very often as those long legs eventually carried him back over.

You didn’t fully tense as his ass suddenly met the sand to plop down near you. But you raised your head cautiously to acknowledge him.

“It’ll get better.” He said, almost quietly then to your surprise.

And all of the sudden your legs were moving on their own. You hadn’t even felt him attach a string to your spine this time.

But you frowned as they stretched out on their own accord. You could only wonder what he was planning now before he laid down abruptly, not caring about the sand on his clothes at all apparently.

His head was then resting in your newly available lap that he had just provided for himself by moving your legs.

He shifted his fingers again after as well, still controlling you to make yours go into his hair next as he used his own free hand to remove his sunglasses.

You saw the genuinely tired look in his eyes then as he looked up at you while you were forced to gently stroke his scalp. “I do want you to love me.” He breathed, his eyes remaining on yours.

“I know.” You answered. Not arguing any longer, and not bothering to demand him to release you.

“Just don’t give up on me yet.” He said, his eyes going more half lidded as he let your hand stop petting him. He turned his face, so gently kissing your hand then instead. “Because I already love you.” He added.

And you inhaled quietly. It pulled at you every damn time he said it. “I think…that maybe you want to.”

“If we don’t yet, then we’ll learn how to.” He promised you at that, not actually disagreeing. And he turned onto his side then, briefly closing his eyes with his head still comfortably in your lap.

“We’ll love each other.” Doflamingo said, reinforcing this just loud enough for you to hear over the continued waves. “We’ll have to, because no one else ever will.”

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

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muscari-midala · 1 month ago

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Your Heart Pulling Against Mine - pt 2

David 8 x Reader Words: 897 Part one is here Crossposted on Ao3 Thank you all for your love and support, you inspire me and I appreciate every single one of you!

Lying in bed, the two of you studied each other’s faces in silence.

Slowly, you reached up to touch his cheek, your fingers tracing his skin gently, searching for a difference from your own - but there is none.

He was convincingly human, if it weren’t for his slightly colder temperature.

Gingerly, he mirrored your movement, his hand lifting to brush a thumb over your warm cheek.

When you offered for him to stay, he accepted, sharing your bed because it helped you fall asleep faster.

It was nice, really, he technically didn’t need the human comforts of this room, but he still enjoyed them.

After that first night, it became harder not to instinctively gravitate towards each other, as if you’d found some unspoken connection, a need to be close.

“Can you feel my touch?”

Your fingertips ghosted over his brow, down his cheekbone, and along his jaw, mapping every subtle feature and detail.

“My sensors register the pressure, yes,” he replied, his gaze briefly flicking up to meet yours before returning to the path his own fingers traced along your face.

Humming, you continued your exploration and wove your fingers into his blonde hair, feeling the texture before giving it a small tug which brought his attention back to you.

“How about pain? Can you feel that?”

David observed you for a moment, then shook his head.

“No pain. I was designed to endure harsh conditions - it would have been impractical for pain to interfere.”

This made sense, and you didn’t know if you felt sad for his lack of sensations or if you were jealous of it.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly inhaled sharply as his fingers glided down your neck, causing a shiver to ripple through you.

Noticing your reaction, he propped himself up slightly, his gaze fixed on the goosebumps forming on your skin.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his fingers drifting down to your arm, exploring the subtle changes in texture, his touch doing nothing to ease the shivers.

You caught his hand with your own, clasping it tightly as heat rushed to your cheeks and your heart pounded in your chest.

David's brows furrowed in confusion until he registered your flustered state.

"I'm sorry, miss." he murmured, sounding almost chastised as he tried to pull his hand back, but you didn't let go. Instead you wrapped your free arm around him.

“Please, don’t call me ‘miss,’ David. My name is (Y/N),” you said, your voice muffled as you tucked yourself against his chest to hide your reddened face.

Uncertain, he sank down again, his gaze lingering on the crown of your head before enveloping you with his arms, testing your name on his tongue.

He knew it, of course he did. He knew everyone's names, but no one had ever offered him the intimacy of using theirs so casually before.

His hand found its way to your hair, fingers threading gently through the strands. He imitated something he’d seen in movies, read about in books, wanting to calm you after noticing your racing heart, your quickened pulse.

But why? Why did you not push him away? Why did you seek his presence? Why did you treat him with warmth, like a person?

Peter Weyland, his ‘father,’ had declared in that video introduction that he had no soul. His ‘sister’ threatened to deactivate or destroy him at least once a day. And the crew? They didn’t see the point in kindness - why bother with pleasantries for something that wasn’t human?

But here you were, nestled in his arms. You had offered to share your room with him because all he got was a small storage room. Oh how furious you have been on his behalf, even if he did not mind. Or did he? Did he mind?

As long as his father lived, he would not be free, he would have to do his bidding - but with you he felt autonomy. With you, something shifted.

You didn’t command him, you asked.

You asked if he would like to do things.

What he wanted.

A concept he was not allowed to grasp until he met you.

When you finally mustered the courage to meet his gaze again, you froze.

There was a wet shimmer in his eyes.

You blinked, once, twice, as if trying to dispel an illusion, but there was no mistaking it. David was crying.

Gathering yourself, you sat up, your hands moving instinctively to cradle his face, wiping the tears away.

His name trembled on your lips, but before you could speak, he whispered yours.

You were not sure who moved first, maybe it did not matter.

But you found yourself with his lips on yours, yours on his, tentative, careful, as though either of you might shatter if the other pressed too hard.

Until you exhaled a soft sigh and leaned into him.

That was all it took, his lips pressed more firmly against yours, the careful restraint melted away as you let yourselves fall into it together.

It was just the two of you.

The ship, the universe, all of it faded into the background.

This moment was yours and yours alone, surrounded by the endless vastness of space, by millions of stars.

Tangled in soft sheets, bodies intertwined.

If he needed air, he would be breathless.

David realized something, something he never felt before.

He was loved.

#david 8 #alien #alien prometheus #david 8 x reader #prometheus #alien prequels #android x reader #alien fanfiction #I appreciate every single one of you #thank you for sharing your love for him

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hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

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Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 10

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Mean!Eddie, Angst, traumatic past, painful procedures (gyno), cheating, Billy x reader at the beginning

wc: 7k

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: Well shit, I did say it will take a turn and shift. Hopefully you all enjoy this chapter, it was painful to write, but it is needed for you guys to know about the backstory of it all. If you see real closely, you'll see a part of this chapter that was actually in previous chapters ;)

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

<- Prev. chapter - Next chapter ->

CHAPTER 10

Two dates turned into three.

Three dates turned into four.

Four turned into eight.

And you lost count.

“All I’m saying is that Max found you entertaining in the video call!” You chuckle with heat on your cheeks as you dipped your head in Billy’s chest, trying to cover your face. You didn’t intend on presenting yourself to Max, but he was on a video call when you arrived at his place yesterday, and you didn’t know because he had opened the door so normally with the phone in his hand and greeted you with a kiss, not noticing the phone in his hand.

Of course the girl on the other side of the call almost screeched and you jumped in fear at the sudden noise.

He was talking to Max, and he introduced you two through video call, which made your heart pound loudly in your chest, because the feelings for Billy escalated in ways you didn’t think they would. But it wasn’t just you, Billy had been smitten by you the moment you rejected him the first time ever a month ago at your office. He was never one for formal relationships, exclusive ones maybe once or twice which didn’t work out in the end.

But there was something about you that he couldn’t quite let go of, he almost seemed obsessed. He was afraid of being that clingy to you, but after date number eleven he gave up on the feeling and made himself exclusive to you, even if you didn’t know it. He didn’t want to be with anyone else but you, and it had scared him, it still does, but it was the first time he felt as if someone understood him.

When you had asked him a week ago if he slept with other girls, he had told you that he didn’t. That he hasn’t slept with anyone but you because he simply couldn’t. Your heart melted at his words, and how could you not believe him? If you two didn’t see each other, it was on video call or messaging, or at work. There wasn’t a single time where Billy didn’t answer you for more than one hour.

You know it’s excessive, and it’s too much, and maybe you are making a fantasy in your head, but you truly did end up liking Billy. He told you about his past, about his father and how he abused him physically and mentally, which he had to go to therapy for. He told you about his mother, her ashes being thrown in the Californian beach where she always took him surfing.

His favorite color is Red. His music taste is rock. His favorite movie is Terminator. His comfort movie, funny enough, is Shrek 2. His favorite food is Fettuccine Alfredo. His favorite dessert is dark chocolate. His favorite band is Scorpions. His favorite song is ‘You give love a bad name’ by Bon Jovi.

And as you knew these little facts about himself, he knew little facts about you, which he always remembered, and always made it known that he remembered. He got you Pínk roses once, your favorite flowers. He got you some strawberries and whipped cream, your favorite dessert. He got you a mascara from Dior because you had told him once you were running out of it.

All those small things, details, doings, made you fall for him. It wasn’t just because it was physical, and you knew that falling for a Model wasn’t the brightest of ideas, but it was impossible not to. You weren’t public yet, and you really didn’t mind that, and it’s not like you two are anything, because he never really asked.

But today, right now, when you’re laying on his chest with the bedsheets over your naked bodies while he is propped up on some pillows against the headboard, laughing because of the situation from yesterday with Max, something felt right, like a puzzle coming together.

“Hey Sweets… I gotta ask you something.” He suddenly says and you look up with a playful smile on your face.

“Oh, danger.” You replied and he chuckled, but you noticed that behind his laughter there was a glint of nervousness, which made your teasing evaporate, replaced by worry.

“It’s not bad… It’s just– I really like you. I never felt this for someone else, and I have never been in a relationship before, so I don’t know how it really works– I mean, I did have relationships before, it’s just, they never worked out, or I didn’t like the person or I just didn’t connect with them…” He was rambling, but a smile was forming on your lips, and you bit the inside of your bottom lip to forbid it from going wider.

“And what are you trying to say here, Mr. Hargrove?” You ask him, in a low voice, your eyes already looking up at him with adoration in them, heart beating fast in your chest as he looked down at you, with a smile on his lips, shaking his head slightly.

“You know what being called Mr. Hargrove does to me.” He says before pulling you on top of him with a grunt and you squeal from the movement, still giggling as you look up at him. He brushed some hair off your face, putting it behind your ear. “I want you to be mine. I want us to properly date Sweets.”

You could feel his heart hammering in his chest and yours was at his same pace. Your smile had dropped but because of the surprise, not because you weren’t happy. You were exhilarated, wanting to jump from excitement and yell it to the whole world that you are dating him, that he is yours and you were his… But–

“You’re famous, I’m… I’m nothing. What will the people that follow you say?” He shakes his head, his arms around you to keep you on top of him, not letting you go. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, he wasn’t going to miss this chance when he finally found someone he could be himself with, or was beginning to.

“I will fight every single one that goes after you. Whatever they say it’s because they don’t know you like I do… Sweets, I want you to meet my sister properly, my friends… I mean, I talk about you enough already, and they’re getting impatient to meet you.” He chuckles and your eyes widened at his confession, heat spreading on your cheeks as you looked down at him.

“You talk about me?”

“Almost every single day.”

Oh your heart melted at that. Your brain short circuited. It’s been too long since you felt this kind of desire towards you, this want to have a future with you, and you almost teared up at his words. You had shut yourself for a whole year, began dating random dudes, and somehow you landed on Billy, who you thought was going to be a simple hook up, but he ended up being so much more than that.

You are afraid. Terrified actually. You don’t know if your ideals stand in the same place as his, but you won’t know unless you take the leap, and follow your feelings in this very second. You leaned down and pressed your lips against his softly, and the both of you closed your eyes to enjoy the tender kiss. After a few seconds you pulled away with a smile on your face.

“Okay…” His eyes widened in surprise, a wide grin spreading in his lips, teeth showing and all.

“I can call you my girlfriend now?” Your cheeks flush again at the name, feeling like a teenage girl all over again as you nod and he immediately turns you both completely, another squeal coming out of your lips as he lays you down on the other side of the bed, bouncing from the sudden force as he kisses you on the lips, still smiling as he does so.

You really cannot wait to tell everyone today at Nancy’s party.

You parked your car a block away from Nancy’s apartment building, which was actually huge, walking quickly with her gift bag in one hand. You bought her a nice pink blouse that she was groaning about not having for a while now.

You saw the lobby door almost closing, rushing towards it to get through, walking inside and then past the couches to catch onto an elevator. The doors were almost shutting so you dipped your arm in between the doors with a ‘sorry’ and stepped in, only for your mood to drop in a second as you saw who was in the small space with you.

“Jeez, you could have gotten the next one Peach.” That horrible voice says to you with venom behind his words. Of all the people you had to share an elevator with, Munson was certainly not at the top of the list.

“I am already late, and so are you.” You say and press on Nancy’s floor, which was the 7th. He rolled his eyes as you stood next to him, holding the bag in front of you as the elevator bounced slightly and started moving. Your heart was hammering with pure hatred, just standing next to this man was getting your hairs to stand, like a cat that is about to defend itself.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He suddenly says and you frown, completely confused and looked up at him, but you found him looking at your bag. You looked down on it, and backed up at him.

“What’s wrong with my gift?” He shoots a glare your way, pulling the same bag, from the same store from his side. Your breath got stuck in your throat as dread from possibly getting the same thing settles in. “Is it a–”

“Pink Blouse.”

You both groaned loudly, anger filling your chest from him getting the same thing for Nancy. At least there’s a ticket that she can use to exchange it for something else, but now your gift is not unique anymore, you made sure, talking with everyone about what they will gift Nancy, just so your gift wouldn’t match with anyone else’s… Except.

“This is what I get for not wanting to talk to you?” You say on the low, almost mumbling to yourself, but he heard it, loud and clear, a smug grin appearing on his lips.

“Oh, are you regretting not getting on my good side now?” He says and you make a face of disgust, looking up at him, shaking your head.

“The last thing I want is that, I mean you probably don’t even have one.” He chuckles at that response to hide how irritating you were to him. He wanted out of the elevator, he couldn’t handle standing next to you when all he could feel was just how happy you were. You were almost excited from what he could guess from your features, but he didn’t know why.

“I do, you’re just not special enough to see it, Peach.” He replies with venom in his tone, surprising you from how that hit your dignity a bit. You know you aren’t special to him, just to him, and that’s fine. Still, it fucking hurt.

“Okay, now that’s–” Suddenly the Elevator bounced aggressively, signaling a stop, but the lights went out, turning the emergency ones on. They weren’t as bright, but it was something. Your eyes widened, looking at the digital number that should appear at the top of the elevator, but it was black.

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” Eddie yells, pressing desperately onto the ‘open doors’ button repeatedly and then the help button.

You cannot believe this. Someone from a higher power really hated you. It despised you, because there is no way, no possible way that you are now stuck in an elevator with Eddie Munson. You took your phone out, seeing one bar of signal, calling Nancy immediately as the nerves in your body started taking over. You aren’t claustrophobic, but staying inside four walls with your sworn enemy was not your idea for a party.

“Hey–” You didn’t even let her finish her words.

“Nance we’re stuck in the elevator!” You say to her, as quickly as you can because you don’t know if the signal will stay on for too long.

“We?”

“Munson and I.” You say with spite which Eddie noticed, rolling his eyes how disgusted you sounded saying his surname. He was still pressing onto the open doors button, hoping that it’ll make the energy return or something.

“No…. Power… Called–” And the line cut off. You groaned loudly, stomping your foot in anger as you looked at your phone to now see there was no signal.

“What did she say?” Eddie asks, still looking at the elevator console and you glared at him and then his hand, pressing the buttons nonstop.

“Power outage, so you can fucking cut that out.” He stops, only to turn his head to glare at you. You almost never fully insulted him, but when you did, his anger boiled. You were spoiled, a brat, a liar, a bad friend. Friends do not keep secrets to each other, and you are filled with them.

“Come on Peach, insult me more. Turns me on.” He replies and you fake smile at him, flipping him off before sitting down on the floor of the elevator. You grabbed your bag and you took a hard candy out, a honey one. You always chew on something when you are nervous, and being in this closed space with someone you despise was not helping the knot in your belly.

He sighed heavily, the anger swirling in his chest as he looked down at you for a second and looked back at the buttons. There wasn’t much he could do but wait now, he is not strong enough to rip the doors open, so he decides to sit in front of you, resting himself against the wall, legs spread in front of him, next to yours. All he wanted and needed was a couple of beers today. He needed the distraction from the week’s turmoil of events. Wayne’s medical bills started going up, and he had to work extra the past week to cover most of it, while saving some money for himself.

You were looking up towards the emergency light, swirling the candy around in your mouth, making some clinking sounds against your teeth every time it went from one side to the other. Eddie was glaring at you as the annoyance grew in his body, his eye twitching as you continued your movements without caring if you were being loud or nasty about it.

“Can you eat candy like a normal person?” He spats and your eyes shoot towards him, a confused frown in your face. “You’re making too much noise, cut it out.”

Oh you were now glaring back. You cannot even have a candy in peace with him, and you were debating if to spit it out, harshly, towards his forehead. For the past month, the bickering had gone down between the two of you, and that was because you spent your time with Billy more than anything, or at work.

“What, you’re going to tell me how to eat candy now? Jesus christ.” You really don’t understand what his problem is, and if you had to be stuck in this elevator with him for the next few minutes, you were sure you were going to murder him if he kept this attitude up until then. Someone would open those doors, and just find you covered in Eddie’s blood.

“It was just a comment, respect the other person that’s in the same stuck space as you.” At those words you almost choked on your candy, and you bit it down to swallow it and laugh, which Eddie knew was sarcastic, making him squint his eyes at you.

“I’m sorry, you talking about respect is funny.” You say with a smirk on your lips as you look back down at him. He was looking at you incredulously as his hands started to heat up from the rage that was slowly building up.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, you and respect don’t go hand in hand. One day Munson you will admit you’re a self entitled prick that only cares about himself.” And that’s where you were wrong, but you didn’t know that, and Eddie’s blood was boiling at your words. Who do you think you are? You don’t even know him, yet you are insulting him, freely.

“You don’t even fucking know me Peach, and you’re not even worth knowing about my life.” That made something in your chest snap. For some reason, those words cut harder into you than any other insult he could ever throw at you. You didn’t notice that your eyes had teared up at the word, and Eddie simply looked at you with a mocking grin to his face. “Aw, are you going to cry? I can’t believe you actually have feelings.”

“Shut up–”

“I just don’t get it, how Robin trusts you so much, all this while. I don’t understand the rest either, but especially Robin. I mean, you really aren’t that special–” His words were pure stabs into your body, your breathing becoming heavy as he talked, and your emotions were beginning to spill over the edge of the glass. You hadn’t heard or thought of those words for a long while, and here he was, in just mere seconds reminding you about them, letting them brand into your skin again, over the scabs that built up over the last year.

“Shut the fuck up– I–”

“Oh, so you are crying now? After insulting me? Why, can’t take it like I take all of your fucking names and comments?” He all but growls. He was pissed, glaring at you with anger shown on his features. He didn’t care that there were tears running down your face, he didn’t care about your feelings, he didn’t care if this was hurting you, just like you never cared about him either.

You couldn’t take it any more, the tears falling, trying to regain your breathing, but your anger, your nerves, your despair, and your past was hunting your brain. It was making you slightly dizzy, lightheaded, and your mouth was responding for you now, no longer processing the words coming out of it. You slammed your hands on the floor of the elevator, glaring at him through a tear stained face.

“Why the FUCK do you hate me so much!? You don’t know SHIT about me, so I don’t understand why you’re like this!” You almost yell at him, your voice already getting strained by the emotions you swore you put inside that box long ago. Eddie scoffed at that, yet matched your energy as he leaned forward, pointing at you.

“Right back at you! You don’t know me! At fucking all! But the difference between you and me, Peach, is that everyone else in the group knows me, knows about me, knows about my past. And you? NO ONE knows shit about you. Not just me.” You roll your eyes at that with a scoff as your heart pounded into your chest, going wild at the process of his words.

“It’s because it’s no one's business! Can’t you fucking get that?! I am not lying about anything, I’m just keeping my past to myself! I’m harming no one!” You exclaim at him, your hands gripping onto the hard floor of the elevator and he shakes his head, giving a sarcastic laugh of his own, which made your brain snap once.

“That’s what you fucking think! You think that Robin doesn’t give a shit about that side of you, but she told you every single thing about herself, yet you act like you’re some mysterious chick that came out of nowhere just for what? Attention? For people to discuss about your past life and for you to feel fucking important?”

Your brain snapped two, three times.

“Stop–” You begged, you were begging, not being able to handle the emotions any longer, and you needed peace, you needed silence, you needed him to stop stabbing you, hurting you, making you remember.

“So who is the self entitled prick here? Huh? Look into the fucking mirror for once, and come to the actual fact that you’re an attention seeking whore–”

And then, it cracked.

“What the fuck do you want me to say!? That I’m a divorced woman that went through three fertility treatments in the lapse of three months, with a husband that was cheating on me through that?! Is that what you want to fucking hear Munson!? Is that what everyone in this fucking group wants to know or just you?!”

Silence. The small space fell into complete silence. His stretched legs next to yours, facing one another as your chest heaved up and down. He was stunned in his place, not fully processing your words because it couldn’t be. You couldn’t have gone through that, you didn’t show it… That’s when Robin’s words came into his mind: Just because she hides her past, doesn’t make her a liar.

And now, he felt the cold sweat of guilt, washing all over his body, all the way to his feet. His heart had slowed down, thanks to the shock of those words, and he was feeling like vomiting right now as the knots in his stomach appeared, trying to pry his stomach open, ripping it apart. You fell silent, slow tears still rolling down your cheeks as you rested against the wall again, and you looked up at the emergency light.

The box had opened. Everything you sealed up, everything you worked for a year to keep inside of you, inside of your head, to maybe erase it, to erase the pain, to erase the treason, to erase it all. Your mother had told you that someday you would explode. She had suggested a therapist, but you never listened, because you thought you were strong enough. That you were strong enough to deal with the pain and with the memory by yourself.

By leaving.

“I was–”

“You don’t have to…” Eddie stops you immediately. He didn’t do this for you to confess your past, or maybe he did, but he never expected this, and now he was regretting every single word that came out of his mouth throughout this whole year towards you. You glared up at him through your tears, talking to him in the coldest tone he ever heard coming from you.

“You wanted it, now you listen.” He felt fear towards you, but not because he was afraid of you, but from what you might have experienced. “Do you know… how the fertility treatment for a female Beta works?”

“So you just sign here, and he signs here, and then the treatment will start for the both of you.” Camila says with a smile to her face as she points at the contact that was on the table. You squeal in excitement while holding your husband’s hand, Henry, as he smiles at you and kisses your knuckles. You grabbed the pen and signed the contract, your husband signing afterwards.

“I can’t believe it’s happening…” You say, smiling towards Henry, your husband of three years, friend from school, boyfriend in college. Getting together with Henry felt like destiny, after the two of you were assigned on a project together at college after not seeing him for over a year.

And now, you two had signed to start the fertility treatment on the both of you to have your first child. It was something you two knew since you started dating that it would happen, and that you wanted it, you both wanted it. You looked up at Camila, your lawyer and your best friend since middle school. She had a big smile on her face, giving you a nod.

“I’m so excited to be an aunt!” She squealed and you giggled while Henry shook his head at the both of you with a chuckle of his own. You heard about the procedure of fertility treatment for females, and it has 99.7% efficiency. You also heard about the pain that it would bring, but it couldn’t be that bad, would it?

–

GET IT OUT. GET IT OUT. GET IT OUT. GET IT OUT.

Those were your only thoughts as you bit and screamed onto the towel that was given to you, while you were put in a sitting position on the procedure chair, like a Gynecologist's, and your thighs were strapped onto its supports, keeping your legs open, not letting you move away either.

The procedure consisted of a long small tube that held a very needle inside. That tube is inserted into the vaginal canal, piercing through the uterus breech until it gets to a fallopian tube. Then the needle would start poking the treatment into the organ, reactivating the fertility process on the eggs that are inside the ovaries.

But the large bendable tube, ripping through your uterus, feeling it going into your fallopian tube, without anesthesia, was too much. Too much to handle. You didn’t expect this to be this painful, because the male Betas had it easier. They had injections done on their ball sack, giving fertility to the sperm inside for a limited period of time.

The tears were running down your eyes as you clenched them tightly, feeling the sharp needle starting the process now, and you just wanted it to be over. It was going to be all worth it in the end, you will have a beautiful baby, the one thing you’ve always wanted. You always dreamt of a big family, and Henry promised you just that.

The pain might be unbearable, but if it meant you could have more kids with Henry, you would go through it again.

–

Your eyes were wide, glossed over from the incoming tears as you saw the pregnancy test in your hand. You did everything right, the procedure, the postures, the aftercares, just everything…

And it didn’t take.

It might take some time, more than a month after the treatment, but the next day after the failed test, your bedding had been stained with your blood. You almost screamed with a sob, covering your face with your hands as you looked down at your splayed legs and the blotch of blood that was in between them.

Your husband immediately shot up from his sleeping state, looking at your figure and then down at the bed. He shook his head, gulping heavily as he pulled you into an embrace, trying to soothe you down, brushing your hair softly.

“It’s okay baby… It wasn’t 100% efficient, we knew that… It’s okay, nothing’s wrong, you did nothing wrong.”

Those words filled your empty heart, accepting the fact that the treatment did not work this time.

“Next time, it’ll work…” You softly mumble against his neck and his eyes widen slightly, looking down at you.

“You want to try again?” He asks and you nod, your spirit not backing down from that family you always wanted. He nods at you and presses his lips against your head. “I’ll prepare a warm bath for you, okay?” You sniffle, looking back down at the puddle of blood on the sheets and that is probably sipping through them and onto the mattress.

It’s okay, next time it’ll take.

–

You were sobbing as you sat in Camila’s toilet, feeling the blotches of blood falling down as your best friend was trying to wipe your face with concern being drawn on her eyebrows. The four pregnancy tests were all over the sink, and then it suddenly happened, and you had to pull your pants down to see blood had started leaking down from you.

“Sweetheart, shh, don’t cry…”

“I don’t get it! I did everything right! I even rechecked myself, and I am healthy, and ready for a baby, and he did the studies on himself too and there’s nothing wrong with us!” You almost screamed as you felt more blood running down into the toilet, the sobs ripping out of your chest at the failed conception, once again.

“Maybe the third time’s the charm? Like the saying?” She was trying to put humor in the situation, but you had told her about the insufferable pain you went through. Going through that two times, the appointment being just one month after the last one, was almost traumatizing.

“I don’t know if I can handle a third… Not only because of the pain, but because of seeing that single line again, and then feeling my blood coming down… I don’t want to feel that again!” Camila grabbed your face in between her hands and she gave you a slow nod, with a warm smile on her face.

“You are so strong, I know you can do this, and Henry is waiting for it to happen… Nothing is wrong with you both, maybe the timing was wrong… This time it’ll happen.”

And those words helped you clean yourself that evening and already book another appointment. Third time’s the charm.

It has to be.

–

“Please, please, give me a break, I can’t do this again, please!” You yelled while laying on the hospital’s bed, your upper body propped up with each foot hooked into some metal pedals in each corner of the bed to keep your legs spread.

The doctor pulled away, looking up from in between your legs with pity eyes and shook her head.

“We can’t stop the process sweetheart, a pause can cause an alteration and we’re already more than halfway there! I promise!” You were processing what she was saying, with tears streaming down your cheeks, your bottom lip busted open from biting onto it way too hard to control your cries. The pain was unbearable, feeling like you were being split open, your insides being ripped apart.

But you wanted this. You both wanted this. Something is wrong with you, it has to be. There’s no other explanation for it, no matter if the doctors ran a bunch of tests on you and said everything should really be fine, you didn’t believe that. Something was not working, but you really wanted this.

So you nodded for your doctor to proceed, and the pain worsened from there.

But that day, you got out of the appointment earlier than expected because another person decided to not show up. So you decided to surprise your husband and head over to his clinic, where he was getting his appointment done at this very moment with a smile on your face, fighting against the pain that was in your uterus and in between your legs.

Parking your car in the lot, you got out with a wince to go towards the clinic’s doors, and head over to the receptionist with a smile to your face.

“Hello! I’m here because my husband is having fertility treatment?” You say with a chirp to your voice and the blonde girl at the desk smiled at you with a nod.

“Can you give me the name?”

“Henry Creel.” She nods and types something on her computer, a small frown appearing on her face as she looks up at you.

“There is no one by that name for a fertility treatment today.” You tilted your hair to the side, completely confused because you swore you heard him say it was today. Maybe you had heard wrong but there was already a storm inside your stomach, your instincts kicking in.

“O-Oh, then, is it tomorrow?” You ask and the lady had a sad frown on her face, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“There were no fertility treatments done to a man named Henry Creel. Ever. He is not in our system…”

You were frozen in place. It couldn’t be, this was the clinic, you were sure of it. He told you that it was close to yours many times, that’s why he always picked you up after your treatment, taking care of you, buckling you into the passenger’s seat as he went home with you.

You didn’t even reply to the woman, despite her calling out to you, and you immediately darted towards your car. You needed to get home, you needed to check the contract to see if the clinic was another one, because that must be it. He signed the contract so the fertility treatment has to be done.

You raced home, stepped on the gas like never before, your head spiraling as you reached your house and the knots in your stomach appeared. Your eyes widened when you saw a very familiar car at the front of your home, so you shut your own car off a little bit further so you could go inside silently.

Your heart was pounding into your chest as your mind was telling you to not go inside your home, despite you already opening the door, and walking inside, only to be hit with the sound of moaning, groaning, breathless sighs coming from upstairs. From your room.

You started heading up, silently, thinking that this is a nightmare, that this is not real, that this was just some random people that barged into your home to have sex, because it couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t.

But when you opened the door, it all became real. Your husband looked at you, his movements stopping completely, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Then your eyes darted to the person below him, the person who was clawing her nails onto his back.

Camila.

“The contract was fake. He never went to any of his appointments, not once, and I suffered three times… Three.” Your tears never stopped, your eyes never leaving the emergency light at the top of the elevator. “They both cheered me on… Knowing how painful it was, knowing I could end up traumatized by it… while they fucked behind my back… The only two people I ever trusted, fully, in my whole life.”

Eddie was speechless, looking down at his feet with a pained frown in his eyebrows. His jaw was clenching from the anger of what you went through, of what they did to you, and because he was holding in the lump in his throat from the guilt that was brewing in his mind and his heart.

He now understood why you didn’t want to talk about your past, and it wasn’t because you were hiding, but because you wanted to start fresh. You wanted those memories gone, and he just got them out of your mouth, when you probably haven’t talked about them for the last year. He just made you spill that part of yourself that you tried so hard to conceal, and he did it in the most spiteful way.

In a way he doesn’t think he will forgive himself for.

“I–”

“Now do you understand why I don’t trust easily? Or are you still going to act like a self-entitled prick?” Eddie’s eyes shot up to see you no longer glaring at him, but with a much more pained look on your face. He was the last person you wanted to know about your past, about your pain, about your memories, and he got them out of you inside a stuck elevator.

Silence filled the air again as you both looked at eachother. Pained nothingness in your eyes while Eddie’s was filled with pained guilt. He clenched his jaw again, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to clear it up a bit to try to talk again.

“I-I know this… won’t do–” He cut himself to bite his top lip and looked away from you but you could catch his eyes turning glossy, making you listen to him closely. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

You stared at him, for a long while. You were angry, pissed, enraged by the fact that the man in front of you tormented you for a whole year and even got your past out of your mouth, yet… There was a sense of relief now. Not with him, but within yourself. As if you had held your breath for too long and you could finally sigh it out.

“I don’t accept it.” You reply to him and he simply nods, still looking away from you. You looked down at your hands, feeling slightly defeated by him. You couldn’t help but feel weak now, feel completely vulnerable after giving him your story, which he probably will tell Robin about. Will she hate you for hiding it from her? Will everyone else think you are some poor girl that needs saving?

A shadow casted over you, making you frown slightly, turning your head up to see that Eddie had moved, now kneeling in front of you, looking at you with eyes that now could see you for who you were.

Strong.

“Finish it.”

“What?” You were baffled by his sudden words, frowning up at him.

“Finish what you intended that night. The night you tackled me.” Your eyes widened at that request, shaking your head slightly, looking at him as if he had gone crazy.

“What are you saying?”

“I deserve it and more. Finish what you intended that night.” He was opening himself up for you to take your anger out on him. You felt your whole body heat up, a burning sensation going towards your fingertips, and your chest flushing with the wave of anger exploding inside of it. You immediately kneeled in front of him and sent your right hand flying against his left cheek.

His head swung to the side, stinging him from the blow, but he couldn’t be mad. In fact, he knew he deserved it, and he deserved it that night. He now understands how hard it must have been for you to go on all those dates after what you went through. He now understands how hard it was for you to open up your heart again. He now understands that despite it all, you do tell Robin stuff, pouring yourself out to her.

He now understands. He now respects you, completely, entirely.

Your tears ran down your cheeks as you took a deep breath in and swung your other hand towards his right cheek, making his head swing to the other side now. Your hands were burning and stinging from the blows, but it had helped. It helped so much because Eddie Munson didn’t look like someone who would let himself be hit or be disrespected without consequences, yet he was giving himself out to you for you to hurt him.

To make him feel, how you felt whenever he said the word Worth.

Because that’s how you felt when it happened. Were you that worthless that they didn’t care about you? Were you not worthy enough to find love? Were you not worthy enough to find a family? Were you that worthless?

You were about to hit him again when realization hit you, your hand stopping mid air. But Robin… She loved you unconditionally, opened her arms for you despite you building walls around you. Jonathan had cared for you, even after rejecting him, and became a friend without any awkwardness between you two. Steve, Nancy and Argyle, they never once questioned you, never once left you aside or made you feel unwelcome.

They do that, despite your walls.

Do you deserve that?

Eddie was looking at your expression, your eyes darting back and forth as thoughts processed in your head. He could feel your uneasiness, your sadness, your pain, your uncertainty, but there was one thing he could see in yourself right now, and he wasn’t going to let you think about it, not for a single second.

“You’re not worthless.”

Your eyes widened and your head shot up to ask him how he could read your mind but then you were both thrown to the ground as the elevator started moving again, abruptly, shaking itself as it went up. Your hands had to grip his biceps for support and he had his own arms on your waist, pulling the both of you up from the ground. He held you until you could stabilize yourself and then pulled away from you. He clenched and unclenched his fists without much thought as he looked at you.

“You okay?” He asked and you looked up at him, seeing his reddened face because of your slaps and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the sight. He blinked as if you were insane and kept his eyes on you.

“I-I’m sorry, I just don’t know how we will explain our state to everyone else.” You say, knowing your makeup was running down your face, your nose was stuffed, your eyes were red from crying… He chuckles with you as the elevator dings that you both got into Nancy’s floor. He grabbed the bags, the same present, but from different people, and he handed one to you.

“We’ll think of something, Peach.”

As you stepped out of the elevator, you know something shifted at that step. It was as if you left something inside there, someone else, and it was time for it to go. Something has definitely changed, inside of you, and probably with the way you are with everyone else. And that’s when you came to a decision, because if you didn’t move on now, you never will.

Next thing tomorrow, you’ll tell Robin everything.

End of chapter 10

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A/N: As I mentioned, THIS STORY IS A NON TRADITIONAL OMEGAVERSE, most of the lore is created in my own head.

Taglist: @enam3l @katethetank @seatnights @oliskitten @bebe07011 @seventhlevelofhell @babez-a-licious @arsenicred @bl4ckt00thgr1n @harrysgothicbitch @emma77645 @fictionalcomforts @hellv1ra @sarcastically-defensive17 @lodeddiperrodrick @corrodedcoffincumslut @peea90 @sidthedollface2 @elegantkoalapaper @ghost-proofbaby @take-everything-you-can @lalisas2 @luciferiorbxtch

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concreteburialplot · 1 year ago

Text

Intertwined // 04

04 - Snapped Neck

pairing: noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo

masterlists: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5.1k

warnings; VERY SAD 🥲, mild yelling/verbal abuse?, hints at past abuse, reference to past character death, noah is a devastated horrible depressed mess, short time skips, don’t say i didn’t warn you - sorry in advance, don’t hate me 🥲

reminder; THIS IS AU, nothing is meant to be accurate, including family history/events/dynamics/members/names !!

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

i’d like to offer a small playlist for this chapter:

seven - taylor swift

matilda - harry styles

winner - conan gray

hard times - ethel cain

anything 4 u - LANY

if it keeps you up at night - the swoons

-NOAH-

After much-needed water bottles, I’m finally starting to feel somewhat normal again. Folio’s asleep in bed next to me while I lay on a laughably thin blanket on the floor. My eyes fully adjusted to the darkness and all I’m focused on is the popcorn ceiling and counting each plaster peak.

The party rages on the other side of the room and I wonder if anyone out there is sober enough to take me home. It’s almost 1 am and the party hasn’t slowed down. I sigh roughly and roll over to wrap the thin pillow around my head to cover both ears. Even through the cotton I can still vaguely hear the music and a song starts that Nicholas and I were obsessed with a couple months ago.

I chuckle quietly at the lyrics,

“That’s my best friend, she a real bad bitch…”

Such a silly song, even though it’s nothing like what we play or what we regularly listen to – we somehow always get the same pop-y songs stuck in our heads at the same time, then end up loving them unironically.

I shake my head with a stupid grin, thinking about the time we were in the kitchen doing a proper, ridiculous performance while we blasted it through a Google speaker. It started with that song but then snowballed into an entire concert at 2 am – all while his little sister just made fun of us, until she eventually caved in and joined our set.

We were all mic-ed up: me a dustpan, Nicholas a broom, and Stella a spatula.

I dig my front teeth into my bottom lip to stifle a laugh that would definitely wake up Folio.

The memory makes the ground below me that much more rigid.

I’ve already tried sleeping every which way on this god-forsaken carpet, but I can’t seem to get comfy.

The hard floor must be the reason I can’t fall asleep.

I flip back to lay flat.

I don’t really understand why Nick got so upset, but it’s been a long night, so I guess I get it. I’m sure he wasn’t thrilled about getting in the lake. Fucking Folio.

And I know he doesn’t like parties.

I don’t really like them either. I think? Maybe I do now? I don’t know.

But I didn’t want to do this without him.

And I just let him leave like that…

God why did I let him leave.

I want to go home.

I need to go home.

There’s a sharp twist in my stomach when I unlock my dying phone and find no texts from him.

I open my bank app to check my balance. $33.87.

I exit and click on the Uber app, put in our address to see the price. $27.59.

I hit request.

I get home after an Uber ride from a questionable middle-aged man with ridiculous combover.

I fumble with my keys at the front door only to find that it’s not locked. I press my weight against the creaky wooden door to push it open. The house is quiet, if Nick’s car wasn’t in the driveway, I’d think the house was completely empty.

I quietly set my keys down on the wooden dining table across from the kitchen. The bedroom door in the hallway is closed, which I expected. I cross the linoleum and very gently twist the doorknob to peer inside. The small room is illuminated solely by moonlight beaming in through the large window by the bed. I step into the room and click the door closed behind me. When I walk over to the bed, the shimmering white light acts like a spotlight on his face and what I notice churns something deep in my chest. Dried streaks coat his face and look almost like rivers from puffy red eyes.

Surely, he didn’t come home that upset because of the argument we had, right?

I tug at my lip and very gently slip into bed beside him beneath the puffy duvet. The movement causes Nicholas to stir and turn away from me. I stay completely still, not even moving a muscle until he’s completely settled then turn in the same direction as him, just inches away from his back.

If he’s that upset with me, would he even want me here?

Am I intruding?

Is it really intruding if I live here too?

Maybe I should’ve stayed on Folio’s floor.

It’s only then that it really sets in that I really moved out, well more like kicked out, and I live here now. Mostly anyway.

But just because you live somewhere doesn’t mean it’s your home. While I love living with my best friend, and I love his family, and they feel like family – they’re not. As much as they try to not make me feel like one, I am an outsider here.

Even Folio in his frat house, sure he just got hazed and whatever, but he belongs there.

I don’t belong anywhere.

The closest thing I’ve gotten to what I imagine belonging feels like, is with Nicholas. But again, he has no tie to me. We’re friends of course, but if I pissed him off and he wanted me gone… well I’d have nothing. I’d have nowhere to go.

I hate this feeling, this feeling of relying on people.

It’s weird taking up space somewhere you have to walk on eggshells because it’s not yours. Because you don’t belong.

It’s not like I felt like I belonged at home either, not after Mom passed.

So here is better than there at least.

At least there’s no yelling or slamming doors here.

My eyes drift through the moonlit darkness to the small pile of my belongings in the corner of the room. The sight sends a chill up my spine and my heart rate noticeably rises. I’m reminded that there are still some things waiting for me at my stepdad’s.

I want the ability to truly get on my own, if I don’t want to rely on people, I need to get my stuff so that I can actually make something of myself.

I need to at least try.

And to do that, I need my guitar and my keyboard. I’m nothing without them – and I won’t be able to be anything without them.

-NICHOLAS-

My eyes shoot open when shrill screams fill my eardrums. I nearly jump out of my skin at the noise, especially since I had gone to bed alone.

I don’t have the luxury of trying to figure out how Noah got home, just that he is and he’s having another night terror.

“Fuck.” I mutter.

Because I did such a great fucking job dealing with this last time.

I tug at his freezing cold arm and shake him vigorously but of course, it didn’t do much the first time, why would it have a different result now.

I replicate what I did the last time and straddle his lap, grabbing his wrists and pinning them at his sides to restrain his jerky movements.

“NOAH!” I repeat his name with increasing volume.

He wakes up slowly after a couple times of calling his name.

“Nicholas?” He asks groggily, with furrowed brows and squinted eyes.

I sigh, “Night terror.” I state curtly and pull off him, landing beside him with my back towards him.

“Oh.” He says softly and his eyes falter. “Sorry.”

There’s a twist of guilt in my gut because I should be softer with him after his terror, but I just don’t have it in me tonight. The teary soreness in my eyes reminds me just how much I don’t have it in me. I tug the sheets closer to my body.

He rustles around a bit trying to get comfortable, but I fall back asleep quickly. For a bit.

It’s not long after, maybe an hour or two, that I’m awoken once again but this time to a bunch of noise and the overhead light on at full brightness.

“What the fuck.” I mumble, sitting up and rubbing one eye while keeping the other mostly shut.

I turn to find Noah sitting on folded knees, manically rummaging through the couple bags he moved in with. He’s ripping through each one, tossing pieces of clothing out left and right, shaking out the empty bags as if they have hidden compartments.

“What the fuck are you doing Noah.” I ask, my tone soaked in annoyance, exhaustion, and anger.

“I can’t find some of my shirts. I need to get the rest of my shit out. Today.” He replies, his words rushed.

My brows knit together at his sudden – and poorly timed – bout of bravery and motivation. He’d been putting this off and avoiding it for weeks. And now he’s tearing apart his stuff, throwing shit all over our room at 4:30 in the morning… after a night of drinking?

I yawn and shake my head in confusion, “Wait, wait, wait, how did you even get home?”

“Uber.” He replies simply, his gaze still focused on his third bag not even looking up at me.

“You took an Uber home?” I ask somewhat skeptically, “Why didn’t you just call me?”

His rummaging movements pause with a bundle of shirts in hand, “Didn’t wanna bother you.” Then continues digging through the bag.

Normally I would go on a tangent about how I’d rather call me to pick him up instead of doing something stupid like possibly be driven home by someone inebriated – but I’m much too depleted, both physically and emotionally to do so.

“Well, you should’ve called me.” I tug the cotton sheets closer to my body and bunch the material to my chest. “What is this really about? You’re acting so strange.”

I reach over to the light switch and turn the knob to dim the white-yellow hue of the light above us.

“I just need to get my shit, Nicholas.” He huffs, seeming aggravated by my questions.

“Well, you’re gonna go alone if you keep snapping at me like that.” I retort, even though I’d never let him go alone.

He exhales and deflates with a balled-up band tee in his hands. “I just need to do it today. If I don’t do it today, I might not ever be able to.”

Honestly, this is the last thing I fucking needed after earlier tonight. I just wanted to fucking sleep. And not be around Noah.

Yet here I am, awake, around too much Noah.

“Fine.” I sigh. “Fine, we can go today – but only if you fucking wrap up whatever the fuck you’re doing and come to bed. If we’re really doing this today, you don’t need to be sleep-deprived for it.”

“Fine.” He agrees reluctantly and begins gathering the clothes to shove back into the bags. “But I probably won’t be able to sleep.”

“Well, you should at least try.” I scoot back into my left side to make room for him.

The box spring squeaks under the weight of him when slides in and immediately turns away from me. Normally I would be a tad offended, but tonight, I’m grateful.

Surprisingly, small snoozy noises escape him not long after his head hit the pillow. I lay facing him, watching the rise and fall of his ribcage like a metronome.

Concern and fear suddenly flood my bloodstream like a bad drug. Getting most of his stuff out the first time was no picnic and I just know this last time is going to be even worse. Frankly, I’m a tad worried about the things he’d left behind, I wouldn’t put it past his stepdad to throw them out.

I shake my head and try to focus on my breathing to calm me down. When that doesn’t work, I try counting.

I drift off to sleep before 30.

My faux-leather steering wheel cover cracks under my fidgeting fingers. Noah can’t seem to sit still, running his hands up and down his thighs probably to self soothe. The anxiety is thick and tangible in the car. He would never admit it to me, but I know he’s scared shitless about going back home. Noah always tried to hide it from me, but I’m not stupid. It doesn’t matter how “anemic” or thin you are, you don’t amass that many bruises that frequently. I always wondered if that’s why he started wanting so many tattoos so suddenly. Maybe, on some level, that’s what made me want to start tattooing in the first place.

The normally 20-minute-long car ride felt like three hours, but when we arrived, I could’ve sworn it had only been 3 minutes.

I park on the curb at the end of the driveway and shut off the car. Just being on the tiny patch of lawn has my heart thumping through my chest and it’s not even my battle.

But I guess if I’m here with him,

If it’s his, it’s mine too.

As much as he wasn’t prepared to do this, neither was I. My gaze lands on the rectangular windows of the small yellow house. From the outside, it looks so normal, so happy even. It’s almost eerie how far from the truth that is.

I look over at him, just now realizing he hadn’t said a word the whole ride. He’s slumped in the passenger seat, one lanky arm wrapped around his own waist and the other stationed at his mouth. His eyes glued to the house behind me as he chews on his thumbnail.

“We can still go back home, Noah. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not ready.” I offer gently, mostly because I don’t think either of us are fully equipped to do this.

“No. I have to do this.” His eyes finally falter away from the house and land on me.

“Okay. You sure you’re ready?” I ask quietly.

His teeth dig into his bottom lip. “No. But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’m gonna be with you the whole time, okay?” I hold out my pinky. “Always, remember?”

He nods and hooks onto my pinky. “Always.”

As expected, I’ve landed myself in the middle of a brawl between Noah and his stepdad. I feel guilty and useless standing there as a bystander not interfering, but my feet can’t seem to move and my vocal cords have ceased to function.

Noah started off strong, full of adrenaline and blind bravery, but it didn’t take long for George to wear him down.

My heart beats loud in my ears and I can’t hear a word they’re saying. All I see is him waving around Noah’s guitar like it’s a toy, using it as an extension of his exaggerated furious expressions. Noah’s tall, but George is much taller and stronger than him, so Noah just looks like a mouse running around an elephant, scrambling trying to snatch the instrument back.

I’m not sure what they’re even screaming about but the argument escalates further than I ever expected it to. My eyes round as I witness each of George’s hands slide to either end of the guitar’s neck.

He wouldn’t

As if in slow motion, I watch the light pale from Noah’s face. His eyes wide and teary, and his brows curled up. I can see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes in real time as he watches his stepdad easily snap the neck of his beloved guitar.

The break is quick and sharp and fills the room with the sound of cords plucking and wood splintering. The noise after is even louder though, just jarring silence.

Until George opens his mouth again. “Get your sad, pathetic little toys and your little boyfriend out of my goddamn house.” Rasps his deep Western accent.

He forcefully tosses the broken instrument at Noah, hitting him so hard it knocks him backwards. The livid man storms across the house and slams the master bedroom door behind him.

Noah’s knees buckle and land harshly on the carpeted floor, holding the guitar in his arms as if it’s a wounded soldier in battle. His face scrunches up around his eyes and tears just begin pouring from him. His chest hiccups with each sob that escapes. He curls the wooden pieces in his arms into his chest and rests his forehead against the curve of the guitar. His cries heave his entire body.

I’m frozen where I stand. What I just witnessed might as well have been a murder. I’ve seen Noah cry, of course, but this is something I’ve only ever seen once before. Besides that one time, I’ve never seen him this bad. At least, he’s never letme see him this bad.

I gently meet him on the floor. For some reason, I feel hesitant to touch him, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

I don’t dare even touch the arms that are gripped onto his guitar so, I rest my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t even react to my touch at all, as if he can’t even feel it.

“Noah…” I say cautiously. “Let’s just get you out of here, okay? We just need to grab your stuff and get out. We can figure this out later… later when we’re not here.”

He doesn’t respond and when I try to nudge him even a little bit, he’s solid like concrete where he’s kneeled.

“C’mon Noah we gotta go.” I stretch up to double-check that the bedroom door is still closed. “I’ll get the rest of your stuff. We just need to get you out of here.” I urge and squeeze his shoulder a bit.

His fingers dig into the instrument as he takes a deep sniffle and screws his eyes shut tight, shoving the salty tears out. He just gives me a little nod against the guitar, letting me know that he understands but doesn’t move.

“Please, Noah.” I beg and try pulling at his arm again. “Please get up. I need you to get up for me.”

He gives a little of his arm to me and not much more. But I take what I can get and use both of my arms to weakly lift him up from the floor by his underarms. I basically carry him out of the house, his body limp as I drag him backwards across the overgrown lawn. Shards of dying grass cling to our clothes and dust kicks up all over the back of his jeans.

I feebly open my back door and let him crawl into the backseat with the guitar tight in his grip. He immediately lays with it across the cushions and some boxes.

Luckily, we had gotten most of his belongings already so there was just the final sweep left to do.

Thankfully, George is still holed up in his room, though that doesn’t ease my panicked heart-pounding in my ears. Noah’s room is completely bare except for a half-filled trash bag of miscellaneous belongings. I drag the heavy bag across the stained beige carpet, but I stop at something that catches my eye.

In one cubicle of many that make up a huge bookshelf are a couple of photo albums in chronological order spanning over a few years. From the peek-through covers I can tell that they’re filled with pictures of his parents, or maybe at least his mom.

My head snaps at a stir that comes from behind the bedroom door and in a split-second decision, I scoop all the photo albums and throw them into the black trash bag. I use all my strength to heave the now extra bulky bag across the yard as I run towards the car.

I toss the bag into the trunk and slam the door before rounding the car, throwing myself so hard into the driver’s seat that I nearly tip the car over. I take a glance in my rear-view to check on Noah and find his body tightly curled around the instrument sobbing even worse than how I left him. Seeing him like this… gives me an ache in my chest that I didn’t even know could hurt so much. It’s so excruciating that I could almost vomit from it.

I quickly shift the car into drive and speed off so fast that my wheels squeal.

I’m unsure what to do or what to say. It feels like saying anything would only make things worse at risk of saying something wrong. I always feel guilty when situations like this happen with his family because I can’t imagine what he feels. I don’t know what I’d do without my family, and I can’t even fathom someone treating their child like that, especially him. Noah is the last person on earth that deserves that.

I bite my nail as I walk back and forth in the living room lost in my thoughts.

“Honey, why don’t you come sit down?” My mom suggests patting the couch cushion next to her. “Pacing around the living room isn’t going to help anything.”

I sigh and meet her on the couch, “You should’ve seen him, Mamá.” I run my fingers through my sweat-coated roots. “Oh my god, it was horrible.”

She begins rubbing small circles into my back, “I know Gatito.” She tries to soothe, using her Spanish nickname for me – she always told me I resembled a small cat. “But we know what his family is like, I’m surprised something like this hadn’t happened sooner.”

“Yeah…” I trail off, biting down hard on my thumbnail thinking of all the things we never told her his stepdad had done. If she knew the things he’d done to him – especially in front of me – who knows what she’d do. She’s a Hispanic single mother, nothing would be able to stop her – and a George vs. Mom battle royal is the last thing we need.

“I’ve just never seen anyone that… defeated before. That guitar was everything to him.” I hang my head and use both hands to cover my face.

“Well, you know, maybe we could pull together some extra money by Christmas?” She offers. “I could pick up some extra shifts at the hospital.”

“No, no, Mom, you don’t understand.” I sigh and turn my head to her against my propped palm. “His mom gave him that guitar.”

“Oh.” She replies solemnly in understanding.

“There’s a music store in town where I get my vinyls, they do repairs there.” My sister speaks up from across the room, resting on the column that separates the living room from the kitchen. “Maybe you could see if they could fix it?”

I blink blankly as I process her words and it’s like a lightbulb illuminates above my head. “You actually might have a good idea for once Stell.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m trying to be helpful, you don’t have to be rude.”

“I’m your brother, it’s kind of my job to be rude.”

“Whatever.” She takes a sip from her obnoxiously sized water bottle. “There’s a really cute guy that works there, I think he does most of the repairs. His name is Jolly, tell him Stella sent you.” She winks.

“Augh.” I groan in disgust and wave her boy craze away. “I’ll be sure to do that.” I add sarcastically.

A serious stillness falls over the room like everyone is equally unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you gonna do about Noah?” Stella asks softly, her voice laced with concern.

My leg bounces in anxious uncertainty as my eyes drift over to my closed bedroom door.

“I don’t know.”

I gently knock on my door and slowly creek it open. The room is pitch black with just Noah on the bed curled up around his guitar, his shoulder length hair splayed across the pillows, and the duvet wrapped around him like a cocoon. He’d been hidden away in my room like this since we got home.

“You awake?” I question timidly, readjusting the tray in my hands.

It takes a moment, but he replies with a tiny, short groan.

“I brought you soup. You know, the chicken noodle my mom makes that you like so much?”

Another brief pause followed by a slightly more intrigued grumble.

I take it as permission to enter and precariously make my way over to him. There’s a sliver of mattress left behind him, and I fit half my ass on it.

I allow him the space to be quiet with me for a bit.

“How are you doing?” I ask, even though it’s an asinine question.

He just sniffles.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I sigh quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

He sniffles again and scooches further into the bed, onto my side.

I silently tap my index finger on the plastic tray, pondering what that could mean before I speak. “You want me to lay with you?”

He gives a small ‘mhm’ groan.

“Okay, I can do that. But can you eat for me?”

He replies with a ‘nuh-uh’ whine.

I exhale knowing this was going to be an uphill battle. “Noah, you’ve gotta eat.”

He shakes his head in resistance again.

“C’mon, just a couple bites…for me?”

A pause before he lets out a defiant but agreeing sigh.

“You’re not gonna move, are you?”

He shakes his head.

I breathe out trying not to sound annoyed because I should be grateful that he even cooperated this much.

Maneuvering around him from behind, I hold the bowl in one hand and the spoon in the other. Thankfully, the soup had cooled down to just a bit warmer than room temperature. I scoop a spoonful of it, making sure to get a little bit of everything: noodle, chicken, and carrot – if he’s only going to take a couple bites, I have to make sure they count. I carefully bring the spoon over to his lips, he lifts his head just a bit and takes the spoonful into his mouth. He let me give him 4 or 5 bites, which was more than I expected, before rejecting the rest.

I set the bowl on the nightstand, lift the sheets, and nestle into the space he made for me.

“Thanks for eating.” I say quietly. “I know you didn’t want to.”

He nods mutely.

I press my lips together. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”

He’s silent. Slowly but surely sniffles and sobs begin to pour from him again. I immediately feel the twist of guilt in my stomach for being the one to trigger his tears again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-I can leave if you want some priv–“

His hand reaches behind him and firmly captures my wrist.

“Stay.” He begs in a coarse whisper, the first thing he’s said since we came home. “Please?”

His voice is so cracked and hoarse, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was sick.

I falter a second to respond but he must’ve felt the hesitation.

“It helps.” He croaks. “Remember?”

The churn in my chest returns and there’s an ache in my heart that accompanies it. If I could somehow magically take all of this away, I would, even if it meant trading places with him. Even if it meant I’d be the one hurting instead.

I feel so fucking useless, not being able to do much for him.

But at least I can do this.

“Okay.” I respond cautiously and settle further into the bed, now essentially spooned around his body.

His grip on my wrist never left so I let our joined arms rest on his hip. I can’t seem to gather with the right words to say to him, I mean what can you really say after something like that?

So, I offer him the only words that feel suitable.

“I’m not going anywhere, Noah. You know that right?”

There’s a long quiet, so long that I think he may have fallen asleep.

But then he squeezes my wrist.

“Thank you.”

I sense the urge to do something, but I’m not sure how he’ll react. I don’t know, maybe it would help?

I tug at where his hand meets mine and he gives me an upset grumble, like he doesn’t want me to leave.

“I just… is it okay if - can I try something?” I ask shyly, suddenly very nervous, nervous enough to have my heart racing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch his brows furrowing. I can tell he wants to be stubborn and keep me latched there, but curiosity always gets the best of him. He slowly loosens his grip on my wrist.

I didn’t notice that my palms were sweating until I’ve retrieved my hand. I press my lips flat and feel like my ribcage could burst open at any minute from how hard my heart beats against it.

My body is screaming at me to do it and as much as I want to fight it, I can’t.

Maybe it would help

I let my arm go where it wants to go. It slithers beneath the covers and through the space between Noah’s arm and his side. I wrap my arm around his waist and pull flush against him.

We both freeze. My ears grow warm as the hour-long seconds pass.

Maybe he’s uncomfortable

Maybe he thinks this is weird

Maybe it is weird?

Is this weird?

Maybe he doesn’t like it

Maybe I’m making it worse

Maybe–

Unexpectedly, he just melts into me. His body molds into my arms like they were made just for him.

He finds my arm and brings it to his face, pressing his damp, swollen eyes against it. Small sobs fall into my arm and his grip on me is so tight I could turn blue.

Maybe he feels safe, and maybe he just needed to feel safe to let the rest out.

My own eyes well up at the sound of him, at the feeling of his body heaving in my arms. I press my forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m always gonna be here.” I reassure him again through my own held-back tears.

He wipes his tears off with the collar of his shirt before pulling my arm back around his chest. He nuzzles into me, and I feel my heart swell so big it fills my entire chest.

I think I already know the answer, but I wanna hear it anyway.

“Does this help?”

He lets out a sleepy sigh as he nestles his back into my chest.

“You always help, Nicholas.”

Next Chapter -> 05 - Girl Crush*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @cryingabtab @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @kingdomof-omens @the-hell-i-overcame @blackveilomens @xxrainstorm [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

a/n; I know this was a heavy one 😅 i'm sorry, i hope you were able to enjoy it regardless.

Thank you for the support on this series and on my other series, Virality. I appreciate it more than you know. I love reading your comments and asks. I am incredibly grateful for them, thank you.

#sorry i know this was sad 😬#or maybe not idk #noah cries a lot im sorry #he won’t always be such a crybaby i promise #i have edited this so many fucking times bro so sorry if it sucks 🥲#intertwined series #concreteburialplot works #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #noah sebastian fic #noah x nicholas #noah x nick #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo fanfic #noah x nick fanfic

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multifandomfanficss · 1 year ago

Text

Home Is Wherever You Are P5

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: Your Adrian has finally come to rescue you.

Series Warnings: mentions of child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: Sorry for being so late. I had an incredibly busy weekend. This is also crossposted on my ao3 adriansglasses. I appreciate all your kind words so much! Hope you guys enjoy!

“Chase, we don’t even know if they’re alive.” Harcourt sighs.

“No, they have to be.” Adrian held his tension in his jaw, trying not to cry as he slammed your letter on the table.

It read:

‘Dear Adrian,

The day is September 9th, 1994. I hope you find this. I hope you find me.

Love,

(Y/N)’

“That is some pretty compelling evidence.” John egged him on.

“Thank you!” Adrian waved his arms in the air dramatically.

“It’s not safe.” Harcourt argued.

“I don’t care.” Adrian said. He didn’t have an ounce of doubt. He just wanted you back.

“Well I can’t let you go by yourself and there’s only three one way shots. What are you gonna do? Leave somebody there? Plus we don’t even know how this works! What if you never come back?” Harcourt asked.

“He’d be less of a pain in the ass if he wasn’t here.” John countered.

“Exactly!” Adrian agreed, missing John’s joke. “So if you let me go, I’ll stop talking!”

“As tempting as that offer is you’re not going.” Harcourt rolled her eyes, leaving the room. Adrian walked over to his desk, knocking over a plastic water bottle out of anger.

“Oh…fuck…sorry…” He sat down, slumping over the desk with his head in his hands. He heard whispering, but he didn’t care. The team often whispered about him. It wasn’t long before Leota approached Adrian, handing him a piece of paper. “What’s this?” He asked.

“It’s the address of the old ARGUS headquarters…ya know…just in case…” She said, mischievously.

“Didn’t they change locations in like 2002?” He asks, confused.

“Yup.” She smiled, waiting for him to understand.

“Why are you giving me a useless address? Do you need me to go pick up something from the old building for you?” He asked.

“I don’t need anything from there. I just figured you might…in case of an emergency…” He still didn’t get it, but in his defense Leota was never good at subtleties.

“What could I possibly-“

“She’s telling you to go dumbass!” Chris cut him off. Adrian’s eyes basically pop out of his head.

“I know if it was my wife I’d be going.” She smiled at him.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He engulfed her in a tight hug. Most of the team really weren’t big on hugs, but he knew Adebayo was.

“Go before Harcourt sees you.” She smiles.

Adrian takes the device from Leota and heads off.

September 12th, 1994

3 year old Adrian screamed in his bed. You sighed, taking Adult Adrian’s hand and slowly bringing him closer.

“Hey Ade, it’s okay, honey. Remember how I told you Vigilante was gonna look after you? This is him.” You smile.

“Wow! Way to go around sharing my secret identity, (Y/N)!” Adrian exclaims, not wearing his mask. You turn to him quickly and speak under your breath.

“First of all, he’s 3. He won’t remember. Even if he did, he’s literally you! It won’t matter! Also, don’t call me that. He doesn’t know my real name!” You whisper under your breath, anxiously.

“Well, how was I supposed-“ Adrian is cut off by his younger self.

“Mr. Vigiante?” He tries to get adult Adrian’s attention, still unable to pronounce the L.

“Uhhhh what’s up little m- man?” He asks, trying to avoid telling his younger self that he’s the older version. “See, I totally saved that one.” He whispers to you with a goofy grin. You missed him so badly.

Just as little Adrian is about to ask his older self tons of burning questions any 3 year old would have for a superhero, you watch Diane’s headlights cast into the room. When they hit your boyfriend’s face and you can see him a bit better you can feel your heart ache, starved of him, just needing to be with him.

“Okay Adrian, it’s time for Vigilante to go, but this is just gonna be our secret okay? If everybody finds out his secret identity, he won’t be able to go be a superhero and save people anymore. He needs our help keeping his secret. Can you do that?” You ask, hoping a toddler could understand the importance in this. You hate asking him to keep secrets, but the entire fabric of time and space depends on it. You shove Adult Adrian out of the bedroom door before his younger self can even finish saying yes. You pull him into your room and run to your closet to get a box hidden in the back corner. You bring him the box.

“This box is stuff your dad left when he moved out. There’s clothes in here. You need to ditch the suit before your mom sees.” You leave him there speechless trying to catch up with the speed and urgency. You’ve been running around with a toddler for the last couple weeks. You’ve gotten used to figuring out solutions fast. This is also probably an incredibly odd position for Adrian to be in; he’s in his old house, he’s holding his dad’s clothes, his younger self is in the next room, and his dead mom is about to walk through the door…alive. He hasn’t even had time to process Gut and Chris as middle schoolers down the hall. As you grab for the handle to your bedroom door, you spin around, running back to your boyfriend, giving him one last kiss before racing back out to his old bedroom to deal with his younger self.

“Adrian, I’ll make you a bet.” You tell him. He looks at you intrigued. Even at this young of an age he was competitive. You crawl into bed with him. “Whoever falls asleep first gets a dollar.”

“I’m so gonna win!” He giggles.

“You’re on, Mister!” You lay your head down, pretending to try to sleep. After five minutes he’s out like a light and you hear the bedroom door creaking open. You turn to see Diane’s frame illuminated by the light of the hallway. You tiptoe out of the room and close Adrian’s door.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to bother either of you. I just came to check him. You’re so good with him.” She smiles.

“Oh yeah…” You laugh quietly. “Bribing the kid just to get him to sleep was awesome.” You say, sarcastically.

“Kids are hard. We all have to do our best. Honestly that dollar trick was a pretty good idea. I’ll have to try it sometime.” She laughs. “You look worn out and I brought home a bottle of cheap wine from the restaurant. What do you say we go downstairs and crack it open?” She asks. Your mind drifts back to Adrian sitting on your bed decked out in his dad’s worn out old 80’s styles.

“Honestly…you’re right. I’m feeling really worn out, but if you save some for me I promise to drink with you tomorrow night.” You smile.

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile. “Go watch tv and just unwind. You deserve it.” You bid her goodnight before trying to keep your excited legs from sprinting to your room.

Upon reaching your door you close it carefully, not wanting to slam it with all of this extra energy and wake up the boys.

“All set?” Adrian asks. You can’t hide your wide smile. You start to tear up at even just the sound of his voice.

“Nothing else is gonna keep me away from you right now.” You laugh, excited as a tear rolls down your cheek. “Not even time and space.”

You crawl into bed with him and he wipes the tear.

“You’re happy crying, right? Like that’s- that’s good crying I don’t have to stop, right?” He clarifies. You nod, cuddling into him, not trusting that if you open your mouth a sob won’t come out.

“Come here.” He sighs in relief pulling your body closer. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“It’s just so hard to believe this isn’t just another dream.” You whisper through a series of voice cracks.

“No, it’s real. I’m here and I’m not letting you go this time. I’m gonna bring you home.” He kisses your forehead.

“I don’t care. I’m already home. Home is wherever you are.” You kiss again.

You try to go to sleep, but you can’t stop telling each other about everything the other person missed. You never let your voices get above a whisper for fear that somebody will hear a strange man’s voice coming from your room.

“Ade, how did you know coming here was gonna work?” You ask.

“What do you mean?” He asks, moving hair out of your eyes, so he can better see your face.

“How did you know that using the device would get you here? How did you know you would find me and it wouldn’t just like malfunction and kill you or take you somewhere different?” You ask.

“I didn’t.” He says very matter of factly. You look at him in a mix of emotions. Briefly angry he would put himself at risk like that, then distraught thinking about losing him, then relieved he’s alive, and finally overwhelmed by how much you love him and the thought that he’d do all of this with no guarantee just to see you again. “I love you more than quite literally anything like in the entire existence and non existence and past existence and future existence all of creation ever.” You love when he rambles. You missed his rambles desperately.

“You’re my everything…not just the world, but the stars, the planets, the rocks, the beings, the water, the light, the sound… You’re everything to me Adrian.” You smile. This is the first time you’ve felt complete in the entire time that you’ve been here and tomorrow he’s going to take you home and you’re never going to have to be apart like this again. You won’t let it happen and neither will he. He starts giving you little kisses all over your face and neck and arms and hands, anywhere he can reach easily. You start giggling. “What are you doing?” You ask him.

“I have to give you a kiss for every hour we were apart.”

“But that’s like 300 hours.” You laugh.

“It’s been way longer than that.” He says before going back to kissing you. You go stiff underneath him.

“Adrian, how long has it been?” You ask, not sure you want to know the answer.

“Why? How long has it been for you?” He asks.

“It’s only been 12 days. I think you got your math wrong.” You say, hoping you’re right and that he’s still just as bad at math.

“No, I used a calculator. It was around 726 last time I checked.” His words knock the air out of your lungs. “(Y/N), you’ve been gone for like a month in our time.”

“You came after I’d been missing for a month? That- that means we- we can’t go back to a week or so after I left. We’d fuck up the whole timeline. I went missing for a month. I left you for a month- Oh my god do people think I’m dead?!” You try to control your panic, so you don’t wake up the whole house.

“Chris and John thought you might be alive, but wouldn’t explain it to me. I guess they just had a feeling and Leota didn’t know what to think. Nobody was ready to give up, but Harcourt tried to have a funeral for you to put your family at ease, but I wouldn’t let her. We got into a big fight about that.” You turn to face him, your eyes building with tears.

“Did you think I was dead?” You start to cry.

“Only for a little bit!” Adrian clarifies, but it doesn’t make you feel better. You try to hold in your sobs as your body shakes with emotion. Your friends, your family, and the love of your life, at one point all thought you were dead.

“Okay you’re doing your sad crying face and your panicked breathing now, but it’s okay. You’re safe and I’m safe and I’m here and tomorrow I’m gonna take you home and we are never getting separated like this again, okay?” He tries to reassure you, slowly rubbing your back. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He reassures you, but he’s also reassuring himself.

“If I was gone for a month and you thought I was dead, how did you find me?” You cuddle impossibly closer to him.

“Well that’s just because I have the smartest partner in the entire world and they actually left me letters.” He smiles. “I’m talking about you.” He clarifies. “Just in case you thought I had a different partner which I definitely do not because even if you were dead I’m not sure if I’d ever get over you and-“ You cut him off with a kiss.

“It wasn’t that smart. I got the idea from an episode of Torchwood.” You smile.

“That’s okay. That wasn’t the reason. I just always think you’re the smartest partner in the world.” You look at him as a light blush starts to dust both of your cheeks.

“Well then we both have smart partners I guess.” You kiss him again.

“I love you.”

You both say it like you’re starved because neither of you deep down was entirely certain you’d get to say it again.

“I know we should get some sleep, but…”

“But what?” He asks. You sigh.

“Is it stupid I keep worrying myself that this is all just a dream and I’ll wake up?” You ask.

“That’s okay I’m worried I fucked up trying to get here and this is all some weird concussion hallucination or I’m in a coma or I’m like dead or something. That would like really suck actually.” You take his hand and put it on your pulse.

“Feel that? I’m real.” You place your own fingers on his pulse too. “And you’re alive.” You add smiling. “And as long as we’re together I think everything’s gonna be alright, right? Let’s get some sleep.”

You move, so you’re using his chest as a pillow. Being close is the only way either of you will sleep tonight.

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gallopinggallifreyans · 8 months ago

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The more I think about it, the more I'm sure Pyrrha's headpiece is the Relic of Choice.

(Buckle in, folks. This is a long one. Spoilers for all of RWBY under the readmore. You can find this crossposted to ao3 here.)

Pyrrha's entire character has always revolved around choice.

From the minute we meet her, we know that she's the top student, probably invited to Beacon by Ozpin (this is likely; Ruby showed similar skill). In volume 6, we find out that she wanted to go to Beacon and accepted the offer, whether by invitation or passing an exam, and left by her own choice.

We also learn in volume 2 that Pyrrha never had much of a choice in mundane events, like getting a date to the dance, which is something she laments. Her initial appearance where we learn of her skill and nobody asking her to the dance are two significant instances where Pyrrha's lack of choice is made obvious. This sets her apart from her peers and development-wise puts her in a position where she can never choose to have a mundane life — she is literally destined for greatness.

And then we get to volume 3, where the Maidens come into play. The Maiden plot was a late addition to the series, but it gave Pyrrha an additional role to play that further demonstrated the importance of choice. Qrow and Ozpin make it very clear that she was being given the choice to take on the rest of the Fall Maiden's powers, which, significantly, were taken by force from the previous Maiden, by Cinder. Qrow reminds Jaune of this in volume 4.

Volume 6 gives us that heartbreaking scene of Jaune and Pyrrha's mother standing before the honourary statue in Argus, and Pyrrha's mother says this:

"She understood that she had a responsibility to try. I don't think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make."

And that all but proves that Pyrrha was determined to take her life into her own hands when it mattered most. She was given the choice to accept the Fall Maiden's powers, and she knew that she was the only one who could do it, so she did. It was an impossible decision and she knew it; there really wasn't a choice to make.

I won’t lie and say Oz hadn’t already chosen Pyrrha very early on. Qrow certainly wouldn’t have made Pyrrha become the Fall Maiden if she didn’t want to, but we know from later volumes that Oz can and will use underhanded methods to play his own game, just like Salem. The Maiden plot was developed late, but fortunately the lore is kinda fuzzy early on so we can draw conclusions, and we can glean from Oz’s later behaviour (volume 6) that he can be very manipulative.

We also know that Qrow and the rest of team STRQ, Glynda, and Ironwood have all been used as pawns by Oz to some extent, and Qrow is vocal about this several times. Not to say that he’s without fault, but he wouldn’t push Pyrrha into a role she wasn’t ready to take, and he wouldn’t have been confident and comfortable saying she was ready if he wasn’t sure. We see this behaviour in volume 4, and then consistently when he thinks the kids can't handle something.

The Relic of Choice is a tricky one, because it was supposedly hidden in the Beacon vault, which could only be opened by the Fall Maiden. However, nobody knows what happened to it after the fall of Beacon, and Salem concludes that Oz must have hidden the crown differently than the other Relics. In addition, according to the wiki, the appearance of the Relic is unconfirmed, though whether this was due to choices made in adaptation or made intentionally, is unknown.

Based on the two Relics we've seen on screen (Knowledge and Creation), we can guess that the crown would be visually similar — gold with turquoise accents. But, again, the physical appearance is weird and inconsistent. Fairy Tales of Remnant was released just after volume 6, when we first see Jinn, so the design choice is a little bit iffy considering they were probably in tandem development. Because of this, I think the Relic of Choice appears differently to each holder, and most importantly chooses its own appearance. We don't know when Pyrrha got her headpiece, but it was before Beacon. The colour scheme matches her overall appearance, but as I've already established, the design choice is probably not constant for thematic and plot reasons.

The design choices for each of the Relics and their respective Maidens are also connected to the kingdom crests. The four kingdoms each have crests representing the Relics they hold in their respective academy vaults.

Vale's crest incorporates the Relic of Choice as a laurel wreath, typically meant to represent victory in the Pythian games, and became a universal symbol of triumph by the Roman period (I believe — don't quote me on that, I'm not a Romanist). Point is, it's a symbol originating in ancient Greece. Pyrrha is based on Achilles. Symbolic association of Vale's crest with Pyrrha's character inspiration kind of identifies her with the Relic of Choice, and her status as would-be successor to the Fall Maiden combined with what we learn about the Relics later solidifies the association. The Relic is represented by a laurel wreath, Pyrrha is based on a Greek character, you get it.

This seems like a bit of a stretch until we consider the other known Maidens. Raven's emblem and the Mistral crest have similar visual and thematic elements: the flared "wings" and central circle with the diamond-shaped arrow design. Winter and Penny both share elements of their emblems with the Atlas crest — Winter and Atlas both have the double ringed concentric design, while Penny's emblem is more akin to the staff in the Atlas emblem. The gear/mechanical design of the Atlas crest represents both Winter and Penny's roles as cogs in the Atlesian machine. We don't know what Amber's (previous Fall Maiden) emblem was, but her character design has similar elements to Pyrrha, connecting them visually rather than thematically.

Notably, Cinder is the only Maiden whose emblem does not resemble her respective kingdom, because the Maiden power was not rightfully hers. She stole it while the previous Fall Maiden was still alive. Cinder may believe in destiny, but she is trying to work towards a destiny that is not for her, and quite literally, the shoe does not fit.

In the screenshot below, we see Cinder disintegrate Pyrrha, except her headpiece. This could mean that Cinder has great control over her Maiden powers and can precisely burn away the entirety of Pyrrha and her armour, but she doesn't keep the headpiece as a trophy. Or, it could mean the headpiece was made of something else, like the other Relics, which are not easily destroyed.

Pyrrha's final question to Cinder was, "Do you believe in destiny?" And it's clear that Pyrrha does to some degree, and understood her role and responsibility, her choice to play the bigger game even if she had no idea what it entailed.

What makes this even more interesting is that Cinder says she does believe in destiny, immediately before killing Pyrrha, and she drops the headpiece. Later in volume 8, Cinder returns the two Relics to Salem, and Salem explicitly praises her despite Cinder not able to stop Winter or the evacuation of Mantle. How delicious would it be if Pyrrha’s headpiece was the Relic of Choice, and Cinder had no idea, losing it in the ruins of Vale?

#rwby spoilers #rwby volume 3 #rwby volume 6 #rwby volume 8 #pyrrha nikos #cinder fall #rwby theory #rwby analysis #rwby ozpin #rwby ozma #qrow branwen

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pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb · 2 years ago

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Training with Zoro P.2 (Eventual Smut) Y/N X Zoro

Okay so there's no actual use of Y/N in the story THAT I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR. Also this is crossposted from my AO3. I broke the third chapter into two parts for here, so the chapters on my AO3 won't correlate with those on here. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44437204/chapters/111770101

🍶 WC: ~3k

Part 1

------

The next morning you awoke to sunlight streaming through your window, distant laughter of Luffy and Usopp, with Franky hammering something metal in his workshop. You sighed. Obviously, the crew let you sleep in. Memories of yesterday flooded back, and you wished you could go back to sleep. You didn’t want to face it yet. Franky was so sweet about you being sick, but it was still embarrassing. Luffy would probably tease you about it later. Not to mention whatever happened with Zoro.

You groaned, hiding your face in the blankets. That man had you wrapped around his finger, and he didn’t even know it. Not that he would want someone like you. That’s why it was so embarrassing! You basically admitted you’d sleep with him without hesitation! All when he was kind enough to take time out of his own training schedule to help you. You literally dropped to your knees unthinkingly with one command from him. What if you were training someone who you didn’t find remotely attractive, and they did that to you? Talk about awkward.

You sighed deeply again, stretching your legs out as you yawned. You grimaced to yourself as your body protested. Your ass was incredibly sore, your thighs, calves, and even shins sent pain rocketing through your lower body. Hell, your feet were twinging a little too. You arched up, groaning loudly as your abs, back, chest, and shoulders sent even more twinges of soreness.

“I can’t believe I asked for this. I’m going to kill Zoro” you muttered to yourself. You hoisted yourself onto your elbow and twisted to get the glass of water you had by your bed. You raised it to your lips, reveling in the chill of the liquid.

“Why are you going to kill me?”

You spat your water out over the bedside table and shot backwards, falling off the bed head-first and landing with your head aimed at your crotch and your feet touching the floor behind your head. Loud guffaws echoed through the room as Zoro laughed at your clumsiness. You wiggled, scowling. The bottoms of your feet were touching the wall and you couldn’t shift yourself sideways without feeling like your neck was going to snap. Your bed had just enough room on the side of it so you could fit a very small bedside table that was monopolized by a lamp, so you normally kept your things on the table on the other side. That’s to say, you were stuck. Zoro was still cackling, his hand smacking his thigh as he bent over in his mirth.

“Don’t just stand there laughing, asshole! I’m stuck!” you yelled. Your voice was muffled and sounded nasally from your current position. You heard the swordsman’s boots walking to the side of the bed you had fell beside, chuckles escaping his chest.

“C’mon now, is that really any way to talk to your savior?” he teased. Blood was rushing to your head from your position. What a fuckin way to start your morning. You groaned, directing your glare away from him.

“Zoro. Fuckin help me. Please” you muttered.

“Heh. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He took two steps forward, and you suddenly saw his large hands grip your ankles. You blanched. You thought he’d move the bed, not this. His grip tightened slightly as he lifted you, picking you up by the ankles until his own arms were slightly above his head. You yelped, your gaze fixing on his knees. He grinned at you, obviously enjoying your misery.

“Now what was this about wanting to kill me?” he smirked. You ignored his question, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent the swordsman from getting an eyeful of what laid under your shirt.

“You can put me down now” you said. You were sure your forehead had veins bulging and your face was flushed darkly with both your blush and current position. The swordsman hummed, as if pretending to think about it.

“I will… if you say thank you for saving you, and tell me why you wanted to kill me.”

“Oh my gods. Fine. Thank you for helping me” you replied. Genuine thanks colored your voice under the attempted sarcasm, so he let it slide.

“You know… I tend to take it seriously when people say they want to kill me…” he trailed off. His arms weren’t even shaking. Damn why is the fucker so strong. You kissed your teeth and looked to the side, eyes glaring at the mattress.

“I… I’m really sore this morning” you muttered finally. You were swung almost immediately onto the bed, and your head spun, blood flowing freely to the other parts of your body. You groaned at the dizziness. Your hearing muffled and your vision darkened briefly with the rush.

“Did I push you too hard?” he asked. You raised a finger, riding out the effects of the blood rush. Zoro quieted. After about a minute, you were steady enough to sit up.

“Did I push you too hard?” he repeated, this time sounding concerned. You shrugged.

“I dunno. I mean I’m not used to working out at all, so it could be from that”

“Do your muscles feel like they ripped apart a little?”

You paused at the oddly specific question and flexed some muscles to check. Sharp pain in some places answered his question. “Some do. My thighs, calves, and upper abs. My triceps too? Did I even work those?”

“Hm. I overestimated the strength in your legs. You need some protein today, and some foods high in potassium and calcium to help stop any cramps that you could get. Unfortunately, the pain’ll get worse if you just sit around, so make sure to walk around a bit. I’ll have Chopper make you some pain medicine too. Also,” he paused, shifting back to lean on the wall. If you looked close, you could almost see regret or guilt on his face. He continued “it’ll probably get worse tomorrow.”

You groaned, flopping down on the bed. “How long does it last?”

“A few days maybe until it’s your typical soreness. We’ll hold off on training until the muscles recover.”

Your head shot up, looking at him incredulously. “A few days!? What if there’s a storm or if we get attacked by marines or other pirates!?”

Zoro shrugged. “Adrenaline.”

You sighed, relaxing your head back on the bed. Your eyes slid closed, a headache beginning to build at the nape of your neck. “I haven’t even had my fucking coffee yet” you muttered. The swordsman snorted. Your gaze settled on him. “Why’d you come in here in the first place?”

“Oh, right. I was coming to see if you wanted to so some stretching and meditation. After yesterday, I thought your body would be sore from throwing up and doing the workout” he said. You groaned and covered your face in embarrassment at the mention of your bout of seasickness.

“Not a word”

“That’s the second day in a row you’ve said that to me.”

You lowered your hands from your eyes and glared at his smirking face.

“Would the stretching help?” you muttered, changing the subject. Zoro thought for a second.

“Maybe gentle stretches. I also have muscle cream that you can use that you would massage onto your skin. We can see if it works for you as well as it does for me. Either way, we can have Chopper make you a batch.”

“Poor Chopper. He must be getting sick of making medicine for me by this point” you whined.

“He loves making medicine. Just feed him something sweet if you really want to thank him. Now get up. It’s almost lunch, and after my nap we can start.”

You hummed an affirmative, struggling to sit up, and wincing as you stood on your legs for the first time that morning. Zoro watched you closely.

“What are you, my mother? I don’t need help getting dressed. Shoo” you huffed, waving him away. He rolled his eyes and strode towards the door, opening it. When had it been closed?

“Zoro” you called out, beginning to limp slightly to your closet. He stopped, looking at you expectantly.

“Thank you” you smiled. He returned your small smile with an easy one of his own before leaving the room, closing the door gently.

Getting dressed was a pain in the ass, quite literally. Your muscles protested constantly over being maneuvered into new positions, and you almost tumbled to the floor for the second time that morning when you were putting on your underwear. After changing into a comfy outfit, you trekked down to the kitchen, a slight limp in your step. You could smell cooking food before you walked through the door and smiled slightly. You were always happy to talk to the cook, and besides, the kitchen had always been a place of comfort for you, finding solace in cooking and reverence in the tools to make delicious meals.

“Good morning” you heard a smooth voice greet you as you entered. You looked up to find Sanji glancing at you over his shoulder, standing in front of a busy stove. Your smile widened a little.

“It is a morning” you replied, eyes searching for the coffee.

“Oh? Not a good one?”

Your eyes alighted on the coffee, before it was snatched out of your sight by the cook. You sent him a questioning look, to which he replied with a smile and a gesture to sit at the counter. You were thankful you didn’t have to move around more on your poor legs, so you didn’t even pretend to fight him on brewing your coffee for you. The blonde must’ve picked up on your lack of resistance. His brow furrowed. “Did that damn Marimo do something?” he growled. You shook your head.

“Not exactly. I asked to be trained, and now I’m really sore. Then this morning he scared the shit outta me and I fell off my bed and got stuck between it and the wall and he picked me up by my ankles instead of moving the bed” you said, leaning your forehead on the cool counter as you recalled your morning. A mug of coffee tapped the counter by your head, and your head shot up, eyes zeroing in on the caffeine. You gently took a sip before glancing up at the cook to thank him. You froze at his expression. His eyes were shadowed by his fierce scowl, and his lips were turned in a frown.

“He picked you up. By the ankles. When you were sore from training already?” he muttered, anger coloring his words harshly. You shuddered, heart beating faster at the presence of his wrath.

“Wait wait… he didn’t know I was sore. He put me down right after I told him, and he said he was going to get Chopper to make me some medicine!” you said frantically. You hated it when you accidentally made people mad at each other.

“I’m going to confiscate all his liquor tonight, even the secret stashes he thinks I don’t know about. And his lunch serving will go to Luffy”

“Oh come on, I need him at least to be able to help me like he said he would. Maybe just the alcohol?” you pleaded. You took another heavenly sip of coffee; perfectly made the way you liked it. Sanji sighed and rolled his eyes as he turned back to the stove, expertly flipping and stirring various ingredients.

“Fine. But only because you asked so nicely”

“Oh, Sanji?”

“Hm?” he hummed as he looked back at you over his shoulder. You smiled gratefully.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

He grinned in return.

“Of course, anything for –“

“OIIII SANJIIII!!!!! IS LUNCH READY YET?!” Luffy cried from the deck. Sanji’s curly brow twitched from being interrupted.

“Cover your ears” he warned you. You quickly followed his advice as he bellowed back that it would be a few more minutes. As soon as you could, your hands shot back to curl around the mug of coffee, letting the hot drink warm your palms with familiar heat. He turned back to the stove, and the two of you sat in companionable silence. You sipped your coffee as you allowed yourself to actually wake up and prepare yourself for the day, watching the cook move around the kitchen with professional ease. You studied how he handled the knives, when to raise or lower the temperature to achieve a certain outcome, and how often he stirred or mixed food in the pans. He was precise and extravagant in his cooking, and his passion showed clearly as he plated the dishes.

“Do you want to stay where it’s quiet or do you want to join us?”

The question caught you off guard. He was so considerate, mindful that you had a rather embarrassing morning already and wanted to recover. A genuine smile peeked over your mug of coffee.

“I’ll join you. If it gets too rowdy I’ll go hide with some food. Besides, I need to see if Zoro told Chopper everything” you said. You slipped off your seat with a wince and a small stumble.

“Can I help you carry dishes out?” you asked, brushing off your clumsiness. Sanji shook his head.

“Take your coffee and go see Chopper. If I need extra hands, I’ll call Franky or Usopp.”

You smiled and muttered a thanks as you limped out the door, praying you wouldn’t trip on the stairs to the grassy deck. You made it halfway down the steps before you heard Nami calling out to you.

“Hey! You’re awake! Are you feeling better?”

“Uhh. Yes and no” you answered honestly, wincing as you lowered yourself onto the next step.

“Oh? Are you okay?” she asked. You sent her a quick smile and nod before just deciding to fuck it, and quickened your step to your normal pace down the last few stairs.

“Owowowowow” you hissed under your breath as your lower thighs and calves screamed at you. You stood at the bottom of the stairs for a few seconds before limping over to the rest of the crew gathered around for lunch.

“Are you sure?” Nami questioned. You silently handed her your coffee before you plopped down clumsily on the grass, bending your legs quickly to avoid any resistance from the muscles. You groaned as you fell backwards, back flat on the grass with your knees bent.

“I hate Zoro” you muttered. You knew sitting up would make your sore abs screech in pain, so you swung your knees towards your chest and shot them forward to gain momentum to sit up. It didn’t help. As you finally settled, you took back your coffee from the navigator.

“Training rough?” she asked, smiling sympathetically. You nodded.

“Yeah. He told me this morning he apparently overestimated the strength in my legs.”

“This morning?”

“Yep. Scared the shit outta me. I fell out of my bed on the narrow side and got stuck with my feet over my head. He picked me up by my ankles because he overheard when I said I wanted to kill him” you explained, watching the said man lounging and napping in the sun on the other side of the deck. You stuck out your tongue at him, knowing he wouldn’t see it when he was napping. Nami giggled at your childish behavior.

“Well, you are always more than welcome to hang out with Robin and I” she invited.

“I just might take you up on that” you muttered into your coffee, shooting a final glare to the napping green haired swordsman. Luffy loudly cheered that lunch was here, and you turned gratefully to the arriving meal.

You ate a healthy amount, body needing to restock on nutrients and protein. Sanji even served you extra vegetables and fruit that had calcium and potassium in them, claiming you’d get muscle cramps without it. You thanked him, making sure to eat the entire serving. Not that it was hard to do, everything was incredible, but you did not want muscle cramps on top of the current pain. After you had eaten, Chopper approached you.

“Hey Chopper!”

“Hey! Are you feeling better? I can make you some medicine you can take when we’re about to hit a storm, so you don’t get as sick as last time” he said, bouncing up to you with a thoughtful gleam in his eye. You patted his fluffy cheek.

“That would be wonderful, Doc” you said with a giggle. The reindeer wiggled in a little dance as he tried to convince you that didn’t make him happy. You watched him acting adorable with a small smile on your face before you remembered.

“Oh yeah, did Zoro talk to you about pain relief for my muscles?”

Chopper nodded.

“Ah. Yeah. He mentioned that you were sore today and would probably need the muscle cream I made him too, and some pain relief for today and tomorrow.”

You hummed.

“What do you think I should do?” you asked. The doctor tapped his chin with his hoof.

“Well… if it’s beyond the usual muscle soreness associated with exercise, it’s probably due to tears in the muscle fibers, at least more than the normal amount. To heal that… resting, light exercise, mild stretching, massage, and heat would be the best” he rattled off before continuing, “As for the medicine, I should have some in stock, but I can make some specific to muscle pain. There’s also some salts you can put in the bath that help with soreness. I can give those to you, and you can use them tonight before you go to bed” he explained. You listened to him intently before asking your next question.

“Is it a bad thing I’m this sore?”

He tilted his head and hummed, as if searching for a way to explain his answer.

“Well, being sore after exercise is usually a good thing. It means the exercise was effective and your muscle will heal into a stronger version. But when you go too far and are so sore you can’t walk without sharp pain, that means the muscle was torn too much. So, it needs extra time heal into the stronger version. That’s where the massage, light exercise and heat come in. They bring a higher blood flow to the area so it can heal faster” he explained.

You blinked, absorbing the new information.

“Thanks Chopper! I’ll take it easy. I don’t want to sound needy, but when will the medicine be ready?” you asked meekly.

“Ah. I’ll give you medicine for overall pain relief, okay? Then the muscle-specific one should be ready in a few hours. I’ll also give you the bath salts now so you can choose when to have the bath. The muscle cream has to sit for a week, unfortunately, but Zoro doesn’t use his much so you can share! I’ll be right back!” he called out as he took off to the infirmary. Your face flamed at the idea of having yet another excuse to see Zoro. Maybe he’d rub it on for you…

“You’re blushing” a quiet voice muttered beside you. You snapped your head to see Robin smirking at you. You groaned and hid your face.

“How do you get over a crush?” you muttered. She giggled.

“Hmmm… if it’s purely physical attraction, imagine them doing something really unattractive?” she suggested. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine him on the toilet, or smelling really bad from not showering. But he’s only human, right? Besides, he’s so strong, kind, and protective. He lives by his word as a swordsman, by his own values and morals that nobody can break. He would sacrifice himself for this crew in a heartbeat, with no regrets. He has a soft spot for Chopper especially, and he’s so good with him. Is he good with kids? God that’s so cute. He even has a childish side himself, even if it’s pretty hidden.

“Oh fuck” you muttered.

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kurtsascot · 1 year ago

Text

getting older- KWS 2023 Day 2

written for klaine word scramble day 2!

been writing a lot of angst in my wip so i felt inspired to write some fluff- this challenge was super fun;;

i will crosspost on ao3 once i get back from vacation.

enjoy married klaine that is canon (?) compliant

blaine anderson/kurt hummel

rated T, 2394 words

summary: blaine discovers he needs glasses. kurt helps him cope with getting older.

words used: realign, linger, gel, glare, angle

Blaine always knew that this was a possibility, but he didn’t think today would be the day.

“You need glasses,” the shopping mall optometrist says with a degree of nonchalance that only annoys Blaine further. He’s tapping away at his chunky, dated keyboard, working to pull up Blaine’s vision prescription, avoiding eye contact. Blaine has determined that his vision must be so horrendously disgusting that looking him in the eye is out of the question. “You’re getting older, and so are your eyes.”

“I don’t wear glasses,” Blaine says, like it’s a valid argument. “I can’t need glasses.”

The optometrist doesn’t look back. He hits print. “Well, you do need them.” He swivels in his chair and faces Blaine, eyebrows raised, with a face that mimics parental disappointment. “And you should wear them.”

He gets up to leave and Blaine is on his heels. “You don’t get it,” Blaine says, and he’s whining, but this guy really just doesn’t get it. “I’m an actor. Stage makeup is already enough of a headache without glasses or contacts. I can’t have my roles limited.” There’s another optometrist in Blaine’s path, and Blaine does a quick side step to avoid running straight into her. He nicks the back of his optometrist’s-he just met the guy and Blaine’s not possessive but right now this guy is his- heels in the stumble. “Shit, sorry.”

The man hands Blaine’s file off to the receptionist. “Are you really arguing with me?” He straightens out his lab coat, and Blaine tries not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Why does this guy have a lab coat on in the middle of an Ohio mall? He’s not even a real doctor-why is Blaine listening to him? “Look, you can’t see up close, and your distance vision needs a little help. Since you are more farsighted, you can probably get away with not wearing any glasses on stage and see just fine.”

“Probably?” Blaine needs something definitive.

Fake-doctor guy just shrugs. “I don’t know what you do for a living, man, and I really don’t care.” He gestures with his working, perfect eyes behind Blaine. “Go pick out some frames. We have a buy-one-get-one sale going on.”

Blaine doesn’t move. He shuffles on his feet. His hand roots around his pants pocket for his phone. “This can’t be happening,” he mutters to himself.

The receptionist gives the optometrist a worried look. He just shrugs again and walks off into the back.

Blaine momentarily entertains following him- he wasn’t even done talking to him- but, no, that’d be crazy and controlling. Blaine’s trying to not be like that anymore.

The receptionist’s voice pulls Blaine out of his crisis. She sounds mousy. “Glasses aren’t that bad,” she tries. “They can help elevate your personal style.”

“My style does not need elevated,” Blaine defends, shooting a text. He’s squinting at the screen as he sends it, hoping that whatever blurred jargon he typed actually meant something. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“If this is the worst day of your life, can we switch places?” Her expression is less affectionate now, and she gives Blaine a pointed look. “I have to deal with disgruntled customers arguing with our staff and moping.”

Blaine’s eyes may narrow at her, but it’s honestly half a squint. He lets out a huff. “It’s not personal. I’m not mad at you specifically.”

“Right, but you are taking it out on me.”

Blaine opens his mouth to defend himself, but stops. He knows she’s right. “I’m sorry,” he offers. For the first time since stepping in the store, he actually looks around. “Any of the frames here will work with the sale?”

She offers Blaine a soft smile. “Any frames. You will have to let me know if you want two pairs bifocals, or one pair of bifocals and one pair for distance, or-“ She starts shuffling through Blaine’s file, and her gaze stops mid-way on the page. “I would recommend bifocals.” She looks up at Blaine. “How long have you not been able to see?”

Now, Blaine’s embarrassed. He looks around the store and no one is pointing and laughing at him, so, that’s good. No ones even paying attention to him.

Somehow, it still feels like they are. “I’m going to go look at frames,” he mutters, saying it aloud to hold himself accountable, and steps away from the counter.

Shopping for glasses, Blaine discovers, should be a torture tactic that the US government reserves for enemies of the state. The frames look promising displayed, but none look right on his face. Certain frames look so similar that the price jump is laughable. Other frames Blaine doesn’t even attempt to try on because, well, there is a reason some of them are so cheap. They look clunky or dated.

Like the frames, Blaine feels dated. He isn’t one to get hung up on age, but he’s in his thirties now, and today, well, he is feeling that old.

Older, even. He should just check himself into an retirement village at this point. First his eyes, then his mobility-his mind surely is soon to follow, if he hasn’t started to lose it already.

Blaine might currently be losing it.

Blaine loves sunglasses shopping. Sunglasses shopping makes him feel chic. Why is this so painful?

Blaine’s just staring at the discarded, already tried-on and not instantly hated frames lined up in front of him when Kurt shows up.

“I got your text.” Kurt looks a little flustered. He hangs his sunglasses off the neckline of his shirt. “What’s the emergency?” Across his collarbone there’s a thin sheen of sweat from the summer heat, and Blaine can’t help but look. “Hey-my eyes are up here.”

Blaine tears his focus away from Kurt’s neck and up to his face. He is looking at Blaine with a soft, amused expression, but there’s some tension held in his jaw. “You came.”

“What’s the emergency?” Kurt asks. He plays with Blaine’s hair a top of his head. It was humid today, and Blaine had to use some gel. He wishes he would have been able to keep his hair fluffy-maybe this whole ordeal wouldn’t feel so restrictive. “Are your eyes going to fall out of your head?”

“I need glasses,” Blaine laments.

Kurt blinks at him, then steps back and scoffs. “I left work early because you need glasses?!”

“Shit-I forgot what day it was.”

“I can’t skip out on rehearsal, Blaine. I can’t set a bad example for all the fresh-out-of-college extras.”

“I know.” Blaine groans. “I’m sorry. I was-I am freaking out, okay.”

“I got that from your text,” Kurt deadpans, but gets closer to him nonetheless, so they are standing shoulder to shoulder. His eyes survey the plethora of frames in front of them. “You need glasses?” The question sounds softer now, more emphatic.

“Bifocals,” Blaine corrects with a grimace. “I’m officially old.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And yet, you don’t need glasses.”

Kurt picks up a frame holds it up to the light, turning his hand to take it in from a different angle. “I take care of my eyes,” he says, not looking at Blaine. “I told you those exercises I do are important.” He tilts his head and passes Blaine a glance. “You should stretch your eyes, especially when you insist on reading in low light. Or, at least put on a lamp.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, but he’s not really listening. He’s focusing on the endless variety of frames in front of him and how they are all terrible and make him feel terrible.

“Hey.” Kurt places a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and holds him steady, rubbing his thumb in small circles. “Do you want my help?”

Tension is released from Blaine’s shoulders that Blaine wasn’t aware he was holding. He visibly exhales and hangs his head. “Yes.” He rolls his shoulders back and picks up one of the glasses frames he has been eyeing, putting them quickly over his ears. “What do you think of these?” Blaine asks as he turns away from the mirror and towards Kurt.

Kurt fights off a nose twitch and steps back. “Those are-“ He knows Blaine is going through it, and he’s trying to be polite-“Different.” A beat. “I don’t think they suit you.”

“You can say they look bad on me.”

Kurt exhales a sigh of relief. “They look bad on you,” he admits. “You look like a cartoon character,” he adds without thought.

Blaine laughs and puts the glasses back on the display, far away from his pile of maybes. He picks up another pair, puts them on, and turns towards Kurt. “Okay. And these?”

Kurt blinks at him. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.” He looks up. “You know, with the lighting and the glare.”

“I can get anti-glare lenses.”

“Yeah…” Kurt trails off.

Blaine takes off the glasses and puts them back with an amused hum.

“Look,” Kurt says. He starts going through Blaine’s pile and putting the ones back that he hates, not even asking Blaine to try them on. “You can get frames anywhere. It doesn’t have to be here. We can order a bunch online and try them on at home.”

“Yeah, but,” Blaine clears his throat and picks up a pair that Kurt hasn’t gotten to yet. He puts them on and says to his reflection, “If I don’t get them today, I feel like I won’t get them at all.”

Kurt watches Blaine in the mirror. There’s a moment where Kurt studies Blaine’s face, and then, he lets out a sigh. “Okay.” He steps forward and looks at the frames in front of him, only this time, he is actually looking at them. “Let’s do this then.”

Instantly, Kurt picks up a pair from the wall and hands them to Blaine by one of the ear pieces. “This one,” Kurt says, sounding so sure of himself. Blaine falls a little more in love with him. “This one is nice.”

Blaine swaps the pair he has on for Kurt’s selection. It’s different from the others he tried on, but they look okay, Blaine thinks- they aren’t prescription yet, so, like, he can’t be sure he doesn’t look stupid. “I like them.” Blaine means it when he says it, but he’s not entirely convinced that he can be someone that just…wears glasses. “Do you like them?”

Kurt nods. “I do. You look distinguished.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow and leans closer to the mirror. “You think?” He turns his face side to side. “Isn’t distinguished a nicer way to say old?”

“No, it’s something entirely different.” Kurt places both his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and gives them a little rub. “Distinguished is hot.” He pecks Blaine’s cheek, his lips against his stubble. “You look hot.”

Blaine feels the smile before he sees it. He straightens his posture a bit, and gives himself another look. “Okay, you’re right. I like them.” He turns to face Kurt on his heels, snaking his hands around his lower back. “Thank you.”

Kurt hums in response, a small smile spread across his face. He gives Blaine’s shoulders a squeeze and brings his lips down to meet Blaine’s. It’s mostly innocent-they are in public- but Kurt’s affection always gives Blaine a lingering, floaty feeling, and now that they have settled on a pair of glasses, Blaine’s mind is floating away along with his restraint to keep this kiss simple and chaste.

When Kurt pulls back, he takes a bit of Blaine’s heart with him. Blaine thinks he has a bit of Kurt’s heart too- if they were keeping score over all these years, Blaine thinks there’s an even split. “I love you, you know that right.” Kurt pulls the glasses down Blaine’s face by the nose bridge, letting them rest on the tip. “Bad eyesight and all.”

Blaine’s grinning like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. He pushes the frames back to realign them. “I love you too,” Blaine says. He glances back towards the receptionist, who waves them over, looking entertained. “We should pay for these. If you are serious about them.”

Kurt steps back and pulls the frames off of Blaine’s face. “I didn’t even look at the price,” he mumbles as they make their way towards the counter. In a couple weeks, they’ll have to come back once the lenses come in to get the frames fitted, but today, it feels like the glasses are already Blaine’s.

Then, Kurt lets out an unsettled, amused squeak as he eyes the price tag, and his cheeks pinken.

Blaine attempts to decipher the number, but Kurt holds the frames over Blaine’s head and passes them to the secretary, taking advantage of their slight height difference. “Don’t worry about it,” Kurt says, pulling out his wallet “My treat.”

“Kurt-“

“Blaine, if you knew how much they were,” he says as the woman swipes his card, “you wouldn’t get them.”

Blaine blinks. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Hey,” Kurt leans on the counter and Blaine’s eyes naturally follow the motion. “They make you happy. You like them. Let me get you something you like-I splurge on my own wardrobe often enough.” The receptionist hands Kurt’s card back, and Kurt grabs it between two fingers. “We can invest in something that you wear every day.”

“You make me happy,” Blaine corrects, watching as Kurt places the card back in his wallet. “I don’t need anything expensive.”

“Well, buying you this makes me happy.” Kurt hold’s Blaine’s forearm and gives it a squeeze. It’s like Kurt knows Blaine’s floating, and he’s prepared to anchor him. “Let me be happy.”

Blaine finds himself nodding because, really, there isn’t another option when Kurt is looking at him like that, with a fondness that seems intuitive, as natural as breathing. “Alright.” He’s smiling and presses a kiss to Kurt’s lips. It’s half teeth, but it’s perfect. “Let’s be happy together.”

A little later, as they shuffle around car seats to find space for Kurt’s impromptu clothing haul and throw away half-opened water bottles and their daughter’s forgotten candy wrappers, Blaine realizes that getting older isn’t so bad, as long as he can do it with Kurt.

Glasses have a way of letting you see things clearly.

#klaine-word-scramble #kws 2023 #klaine fanfiction #my fics #ao3 #klaine #glee #glee fanfiction #like everything else i write this ended up way longer than i anticipated #oh well

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anxiouslowercase · 2 years ago

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operation conceal, ch 2

fandom: dc comics / supersons / shazam warning: none summary: Billy Batson would very much like to remind everyone that the wisdom of Solomon does not really hit when he's not in Champion form. Which means that of course he wasn't really thinking when, in order not to expose the secret mission they had been working on, he tells Batman and Superman that he's going out with their children. As in dating. Both of them. notes: as i rewrote ch 5 to finally update, i realized i didn’t keep on crossposting here? so. leaving this here now: chapter one is here, and you can find it in a03 as well.

Jon paces around his room, still wearing most of his school uniform save from his blazer and tie, items he had discarded as soon as he'd got home and right before he'd started his nervous walking, about an hour ago. He picks up his phone from his desk for the third time in the last thirty minutes and, once again, he opens his texts.

JUNIOR SQUAD !

>> DAMI: I'll be expecting you at 6 sharp. >> DAMI: I have already drafted a possible story but we need to be sure on the details >> DAMI: Plus rehearse. >> DAMI: DO NOT. Be late.

>> BILLY: Is this a new extracurricular or??

>> DAMI: Need I remind you this it your fault, Batson?

>> BILLY: 6 sharp. Got it.

He had only sent a thumbs up emoji, not really trusting himself to add anything else. What had Damian decided, and how much of it was he gonna hate? Also, and most importantly, what did he mean by rehearse? They were pretending to have gone on dates, so did that mean they were going to have to...

Heat rushes quickly from his toes to the tip of his ears, and he immediately slams his phone down back onto the desk. Maybe a bit too hard. (He should probably check the screen.)

No. He is surely just getting ahead of himself due to the stress. Damian is barely okay with, like, a fist bump in a good day, there's absolutely no way he'd suggest for them to--

No. No, there's surely a well-thought plan that'll get them out of this weird situation in record time without making it weirder because it's Damian, and Damian always solves things! So this is just bound to be yet another one of those things - they'll go, follow the plan, undo this weird scenario, go ahead with their former plan and actual reason why they got together in the first place without anyone knowing, and as an added bonus, Jon can go about his life without confronting the fact he's got a crush on his two best friends.

Not one, no, because that'd have been too normal, too easy - on two. And, ulitmately, that is the real reason why he's been pacing his room so much he could've easily made a hole on the floor: sure, he doesn't really want Billy and Damian to know his heart does a flip when they so much look at him; but at the same time, his heart does do a flip when they so much look at him, so what is he supposed to do? Should he take advantage of this whole (fake) dating atmosphere and, as Kon says it, shoot his shot? Or should he wait until after this forced upon romantic environment is terminated to maybe try and do something about it? Should he go wearing his Superboy suit, or should he try and... make an effort? Try to look nice?

That is his main concern, as stupid as it sounds. That's why he's been alternating his gaze between all the nice (clean) clothes he'd found in his closet and that are now in display on his bed, and the supersuit drapped over the chair next to his desk every three or four rounds of pacing. Technically, Damian made it sound like it was just another layer added to their mission, which obviously points at his uniform. However, he also clearly said they're going to discuss (and rehearse!!!) the whole dating thing, so...

He goes back to look at his phone. 5:43.

>> BILLY: Omw >> BILLY: Need me to pick anything up?

>> uhhuh i could do noodles ??

>> DAMI: Jonathan, this is not a picnic.

>> BILLY: I'll get you some if I can fin d them!

He almost sends a heart emoji, out of poor reflex, but thankfully stops himself just in time. Would that be too much? Would they see right through him? Just to be safe, he opts for a smiley face, right when another text comes through.

>> DAMI: Would you both just hurry? There's work to be done.

Jon can almost hear his best friend's scoffing, and that finally steers him to move and pick up his uniform. He takes a deep breath - business it is. Maybe that's for the best; maybe wearing his suit would put him in the right mindset and keep him from doing or saying something embarrassing that would just. Expose him to his two crushes. That'd be pretty cool, if he could achieve that.

Rao, if you're hearing, he thinks to himself as he jumps out the window. Please don't let me ruin it.

#damijon #billyjon #billydamijon #Billy Batson #Damian Wayne #Jon Kent #obsessed with the three of them #ch.: jon kent #ch.: billy batson #ch.: damian wayne #r.: billy damian and jon

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kuwdora · 2 years ago

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mmmm here's the beginning of my flurry of WIP snippets for @littlestsnicket. My WIP-a-palooza and crossposting bonanza. Say that 5 times fast. Ficlet is from my Jaskier/Oxenfurt series that takes place between season 1 and 2. This scene is the first time Jaskier meets a small acolyte from the Eternal Fire (who will also be making an appearance in the puppetskier story as well). Warnings for child indoctrination and implied child abuse, canon-typical racism.

“You live in a den of equity!” a tiny voice heckled and Jaskier rounded on a heel and turned to peer at the small child. He was dressed in a grey smock that was stained with mud at the hem but otherwise appeared immaculate, which was impressive considering it was on the body of someone who couldn’t be more than 10 years old. Dark brown eyes simmered with anger and looked surprised that Jaskier had stopped to face him. The child must have gotten used to being ignored already but was still out here, harassing all nonhumans coming and going from the university grounds. He didn’t remember when the Eternal Fire had managed to get a toehold in Oxenfurt but there’d been enough upheaval recently that Jaskier wasn’t that surprised.

Jaskier looked at the sun, judging the amount of time he had left before he ought to swing down the docks and check in with the harbormaster’s assistant. He looked back at the child and then scanned the rest of the street, not finding any rheumy-eyed clerics nearby.

“Well, aren’t you a plucky little hatemonger,” Jaskier said, his annoyance fretted with a quiet despair when the child’s posture stiffened. The child’s head was nearly shaved down to the scalp and he had a wide, flat nose was wide and had a chin that would probably grow to be very strong and punchable if he continued on his current path. It was apparent the child had been outside long enough for his tawny skin to redden on his cheeks from the cold, which Jaskier supposed just added another metaphorical layer to the indoctrination the child was undergoing. The boy needed a thicker smock to be standing out here like that.

“You’re right that we do live here in equity but I’m pretty sure that’s not what your brainwashers meant. The word you’re looking for is iniquity.”

“In-ickitty?” the child asked and his face twisted in puzzlement.

Jaskier frowned. “Sin,” and the child nodded vehemently and mumbled inequity back to him and gave Jaskier a baleful eye while he was at it. Close enough.

“I bet your parents are proud to know what a good job you’re doing in the city. You seem like a young man who listens to his teachers.” Jaskier said

“My parents are dead,” the child said and his voice was far too caustic. Jaskier couldn’t help his face from twisting in response and the child went on, “The Nilfs came to my village and burned my home. I was with Brother Arbal when they came. He saved me but they burned him and the church. The fire is our guide through the darkness against the Black Ones, nonhumans and nonbelievers,” the child said with a practiced air and partial lisp. There was enough of his country accent for Jaskier to assume the child had been born somewhere near Sodden, so it didn’t take much for Jaskier to connect those painful dots.

The child’s brown eyes simmered with hatred and Jaskier’s chest twisted at the sight.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jaskier said. “My name’s Julian. What’s yours?”

“Karsten,” Karsten said and Jaskier offered his hand but the child kept to himself but was clearly torn between wanting further encouragement in his rhetoric and a shyness that came from an strange adult speaking to him with kindness.

“Nice to meet you, Karsten, ”Jaskier said and his knees were getting sore from squatting so he walked a few paces behind Karsten to claim a spot against a railing to the nearby pavilion. “Are you here for school? At the temple?” Jaskier asked and Karsten nodded but kept a wary distance and stuck his hands into the pockets of his robe. The robe was crisp and fitted enough to hide any bruising that could be left by impatient teachers.

The child squared his shoulders, braced for an argument against a nonbeliever. It made Jaskier’s heart tired.

#a bard's hiatus in oxenfurt #i need a proper title for this series and all these fics #the series is already up to 50k #and i have not finished anything yet #puppetskier stuff is like 18k now and i am editing! and will post some of it at the end of the month #hopefully #my fic #my witcher fic #jaskier #the witcher #my witcher wips

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made-ofmemories · 2 years ago

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When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 13/18)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: The aftermath of chapter 11 continues, mention of/ description of injuries, angst, quite a lot of Steddie in this one possibly the most we’ve had so far, Dustin features in this one a lot too.

Word count: 3904

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: Apologies for the delay on this one! AO3 going down yesterday as well as a few other factors meant we had to push the posting of this one back a little.

Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series masterlist

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

Eddie gets discharged from the hospital 2 days later. Steve is there when they get the news in the early morning, he’d agreed to stay overnight and keep an eye on Eddie as well as Max. Wayne had suspected she wouldn’t be leaving his side anytime soon and so far he seemed to be correct. Eddie had insisted he didn’t need a round-the-clock babysitter, but one look at Steve with that kicked puppy expression and a stern glare from Max was all it had taken to change his mind.

“You’re kidding right?” Eddie asks with his eyebrows raised so high they’re lost under his bangs as he stares at the wheelchair Steve has just wheeled into the room.

Max is sitting on one of the chairs next to Eddie, trying to stifle a laugh at Eddie’s offended expression despite the eye roll she’d given to his protesting. He’d only left to call Wayne, his shift would be ending soon and Eddie hadn’t left room for much negotiation when he’d decided it’d be pointless for him to drive all the way out there when they could just meet him back at the trailer.

“Don’t blame me.” Steve says with a sigh, he knows when he’s fighting a losing battle so it seems, “It’s just until you get out of here. The nurse insisted, hospital policy.”

“Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’ as he throws back the covers that are over the lower half of his body and swings his legs out of the bed, “Last I checked there wasn’t anything wrong with my legs.”

“Whatever, man.” Steve resigns, watching as Eddie stands on shaky legs, gripping the back of Max’s chair whilst he regains his balance. He hasn’t really been on his feet much the past few days, much less without the support of someone else by his side, “But if you fall and get yourself re-admitted I’m leaving you here.” He’s not. All 3 of them know he’s not going anywhere.

There’s a black duffle bag stuffed with whatever of Eddie’s belongings Wayne had been able to find in their trailer, including a set of clean clothes. Max leaves whilst he gets changed. Steve stays, helping him wriggle the shirt over his head since he’s still struggling with lifting his arms. Eddie thanks him and Steve gives him a bright smile in return, “What’re friends for, right?”

Steve goes ahead once they’ve left the room, heading over to the nurse's station and leaving Eddie and Max to trail behind. He seems to know what he’s doing so Eddie lets him get on with whatever it is he’s up to.

“Don’t.” Is all he says to Max before she can say anything when he notices the mischievous expression on her face, that kid doesn’t miss a thing and Eddie is more than aware of his cheeks glowing a rather bright shade of pink.

“I didn’t even do anything!” She scoffs indignantly.

“Mhm.” Eddie hums in response, unconvinced.

Steve returns before the bickering progresses any further, “Good to go.” He says as he hands over some paperwork and a paper bag of medication that Eddie doesn’t bother to look at before stuffing it into his pocket.

Wayne and Susan are waiting for them, seated at the bench outside of the Munson trailer and sharing a cigarette when Steve’s car pulls up. Susan heads straight to Max, brushing back a few stray hairs on Max’s forehead, Max bats her hand away complaining about the fussing. They’ve barely seen each other since Eddie was admitted to the hospital and he leaves them to catch up.

Eddie winces when he drags himself out of the car and heads for the trailer with a slight limp. His legs may not have been injured but everything else hurts and the bumpy journey along the road into the trailer park hadn’t made the situation any better. He brushes off Steve’s offer of help with a wave of his hand.

“How’re you feeling?” Wayne asks, he’s joined Steve and is hovering by worriedly as Eddie makes his way towards the front door. They both look as if they’re expecting him to drop to the floor at a moment's notice and visibly relax once he’s finally seated.

“Peachy.” He says with a tight-lipped sarcastic smile as he sinks into the couch cushions.

“I promised to pick Robin up, so I gotta go.” Steve explains, setting down the bag he’d carried from the car, “I’ll come by later with Dustin if you’re feeling up to it?” He asks.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie agrees, it comes across a little more clipped than he’d like.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Dustin, he loved Dustin’s bad jokes and infectious laughter and he had spent almost as much time at the hospital as Steve and Max. But, Eddie can feel the beginning of a headache starting to settle in, he’s hungry, and his ribs ache.

“Are you comfortable there? Need more pillows?” Wayne asks, fluffing up a cushion before motioning for Eddie to lean forward and placing it behind him.

“I’m alright, Wayne. Stop fussing so much.”

“You might be a legal adult, but don’t you forget that I’ll never stop fussing and worrying about you.” Wayne ruffles Eddie’s hair, looking at him with fondness, “That Harrington boy isn’t what I expected.”

“He isn’t what I expected either.” Eddie says, blaming the soft expression he knows has taken over his face without his permission on the painkillers they gave him before leaving the hospital, they’re clearly not doing anything for the pain so they must be doing something, right?

“I can only hope you’ll treat him better when he comes back. Don’t scare him away, he’s a nice boy.”

“Nice? That’s the best you can come up with?” Eddie teases, letting his head loll back against the couch cushions. He can hear Susan and Max in the kitchen and wonders vaguely when they ventured in from outside.

Wayne shrugs, “Nicer than Chad for sure.”

“You still remember that?” Eddie groans.

He’d been barely 15 when Wayne had come home early from work and caught them making out in the living room. Eddie had thought that he was about to get kicked out for sure, but Wayne hadn’t made a big deal of it and after a somewhat uncomfortable conversation, assured him it was going to take a lot more than liking boys for Wayne to want to get rid of him.

“I like this one better.” Wayne shrugs, one corner of his lips twitching up into a hint of a smile as he clasps Eddie’s shoulder with one hand and squeezes gently, still cautious of his injuries.

“Me too,” Eddie says, smiling bashfully and twirling a lock of hair around his finger. He feels like a schoolgirl with a crush, but he can’t help it.

“‘Me too.’ Maybe you should tell Steve that.” Max quips, arms crossed as she looks between Wayne and Eddie. “I know! You could write him a song to let him know just how nice you think he is.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm as her features morph into an over-exaggerated expression.

“How long have you been standing there?” Eddie asks, wide-eyed and trying to figure out exactly what she heard.

“Long enough.” She answers with a shit-eating grin.

“Max, could you get one of our folding tables? I don’t think Eddie should be straining himself to reach the coffee table.” Susan calls from the kitchen.

“Sure, mom.” Max leaves the trailer for a moment, returning with the folding table and placing it in front of Eddie.

“Okay, kids. Don’t get too excited, it’s from a can.” Susan says carrying two steaming bowls of soup to the living room. “Welcome home, Eddie.” She says warmly, placing his bowl on the small table before taking a seat next to Wayne.

She’s been doing better lately, in part thanks to the weekly AA meetings she’s been attending, accompanied by Wayne once she’d mentioned not wanting to go alone. The two of them had grown closer over the past few weeks, a shared cup of coffee in the kitchen, a chat on the porch over a shared cigarette. Eddie had noticed, Max too.

“I let Hopper know that we’ll be down by the station tomorrow morning to file the complaint,” Wayne mentions once Eddie is a few spoonfuls through his soup. The chief had already driven by the hospital the day prior to take some evidence photographs before the swelling on Eddie’s face went down too much.

“Okay… Do you still think that’s what we should do?”He knows he has agreed to do it back in the hospital, but he still has his reservations about going through with it.

“Yes, we talked about it,” Wayne says, giving Eddie a stern look.

“I know, I know.” Eddie lets out a sigh, “Tomorrow.”

“I’ll go with you.” Max chimes in.

“Max, I’m not so sure that-”

“Mom, I’m a witness. I saw it all.”

“You’ve already missed so much school.”

“Exactly, one more day won’t make a difference.”

“Wayne?” Susan questions, looking for some backup, she knows she’s never going to win this argument alone.

“I think she’s made up her mind already.” Wayne says gently, “Don’t worry, Susan. I’ll take care of her.” Susan sighs in resignation.

Susan collects their dishes once they’re done eating and heads to the kitchen joined by Wayne. No matter how hard he tries Eddie can’t make out their hushed conversation over the sound of running water and clattering dishes as they wash up.

“So,” Max starts and Eddie turns his attention from his attempted eavesdropping to the redhead sitting next to him, “Who’s Chad?” She asks with an amused smirk.

“We are not discussing that.”

“Why not? Does Steve have competition?” She fires back complete with an exaggerated gasp.

“I don’t let you hang around here all day so I can be bullied by a twelve-year-old, y’know?”

“Fifteen.” She corrects. He knows how old she is, but the affronted look on her face whenever he purposefully gets it wrong never gets old, “And stop deflecting.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighs, “Chad was a long time ago, and as it turns out, a douchebag.”

“You didn’t see that one coming?” Max snorts, “I mean, Chad, really?”

“Yeah,” He laughs then immediately regrets it when the pain in his ribs worsens, “Maybe you have a point.”

“What’re you kids laughing about?” Susan asks, a smile on her face as she approaches.

“It’s a long story,” Max says and Susan accepts it without question.

“I’m heading home, I’ll be by tomorrow.” She explains before they take turns saying their goodbyes. Wayne is next, announcing that he needs to go get some sleep before his shift later.

“If you need anything-”

“I know, Wayne.” Eddie repeats for what feels like the hundredth time, “I’ll wake you if I need anything, will you go get some sleep now?”

Eddie spends most of the day on the couch drifting in and out of sleep, Max had brought over a few comic books from her trailer for him to read, but currently, their attention is glued to the tv and they’re both fighting to keep their eyes open when they hear the knock on the door.

“I got it,” Max says, jolting herself out of her half-asleep state as she jumps up to get the door. She returns with Steve and Dustin following close behind and Eddie’s face lights up at the sight of Steve’s awkward little half-wave and Dustin’s bright toothy grin.

“We brought snacks,” Dustin announces, holding up a brown paper bag packed with junk food for Eddie to see.

“And entertainment,” Steve adds, copying Dustin’s gesture and holding up the short stack of board games, “It’s not DnD, but it’s the best we could do.”

Dustin and Max are crowded around the coffee table, bickering between themselves as they set up the first game when Wayne emerges from his room wearing his work clothes. He offers Steve a quiet greeting followed by a pointed look at Eddie which Eddie returns with one of his own.

“You sure you’re gonna be ok?” Wayne asks before he leaves.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” Eddie assures, “Stevie here is almost as good at being a nurse as he is a babysitter.”

Steve doesn’t miss a beat, “Excuse you!? I’m an excellent nurse and babysitter.” He replies, feigning offense.

“If you claim to be so good then maybe you should sign up for nursing school, Steve.” Dustin says looking up at him from his place on the floor by the coffee table where he emptied the paper bag with the snacks and is now setting up some of the board game pieces, “You did act like a real pro before the ambulance arrived.”

“I think there’s a community college with a good program not far from Hawkins,” Max mentions as she sits cross-legged on the floor across from Dustin.

“Alright, let’s finish setting this up before you little shits start planning my future,” Steve interjects, moving from his spot on the couch next to Eddie to kneel next to the half-set-up board game on the coffee table.

Wayne, apparently convinced that Eddie will be alright, leaves them to it and Eddie notices him slip out the front door from the corner of his eye.

They make it through 2 out of the 5 board games Steve and Dustin had brought along before growing bored, at which point their attention turns to the tv which had been running quietly in the background whilst they played.

Max is the first to fall asleep which is unsurprising, she’d spent the last 3 days in the hospital with Eddie and whatever uncomfortable, fitful sleep she had managed to get wasn’t enough. She’s curled up in the armchair she’s come to claim as her own. Dustin has chosen to stay on the floor and is using the bottom of Max’s chair to prop himself up, he falls asleep shortly after she does.

“You can sleep in my room if you want,” Eddie says when he notices Steve’s eyelids drooping more and more with each passing second. His voice is barely above a whisper to avoid waking Dustin and Max. Steve had gotten up to turn the TV off a few moments ago, there was nothing good on anyway, “I’m just going to stay out here tonight.”

“Me too,” Steve says, slotting his legs on the couch next to Eddies so they’re laying side by side. It’s a tight squeeze, the small couch isn’t exactly designed for 2 fully grown young adults, but it works, “Promised Wayne I’d keep an eye on you.” He adds as an explanation.

They both settle down, sharing the blanket that had been wrapped around Eddie’s legs and torso, but Eddie's mind keeps drifting back to his conversation with Wayne.

“Hey, you still awake?” He asks and Steve’s head pops up from the other end of the couch.

“Yeah, everything ok?”

“Um- yeah, I just wanted to say thank you.” Eddie says and Steve’s expression softens from worry into fondness, “For everything.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. Steve had saved his life, possibly Max’s too. He had stayed by their sides throughout the whole ordeal, making sure Eddie took his meds, that they were both fed, and that Max remembered to go get some fresh air, a mere thank you seems like nothing in comparison.

“Anytime,” Steve replies, “Now get some sleep, Eds.”

Eddie listens this time, settling back down at his end of the couch with Steve’s legs pressed against his own, the only sound filling the room is Dustin’s quiet snores and an occasional sleepy mumble from Max.

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

The morning light brings for Eddie the reality of what’s about to happen, what he is about to do.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. Not ready yet to face the day, he knows what he has to do, in theory. Hopper walked him through the process the day he took the pictures and promised that he’ll do it again as he fills the form at the precinct.

He’s not as anxious as he probably would be if he was alone in his room. The knowledge that his uncle came back safe and sound from work about an hour ago and is resting in his room, the sound of Dustin’s quiet snores, Max’s deep breathing, and the feeling of his legs tangled with Steve’s grounding him. Their presence, calming.

He knows he should try to go back to sleep, get a few more hours of rest before they have to leave, but the thoughts going around his head won’t shut up long enough for him to actually be lulled back to sleep.

“Are you okay?” He’s startled by Steve’s sleepy, quiet voice coming from the other side of the couch.

“Yeah, yeah, peachy. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been shifting a lot and your breathing changed. I thought that maybe your sides were hurting or you had a nightmare.” Steve says as if those are totally normal things to notice, as if literally anyone else would have picked up on those things let alone paid them enough attention to realize something might be wrong.

“I’m fine,” Eddie reassures him,” just, just can’t go back to sleep. Can’t stop thinking about the complaint.”

“Hey,” Steve nudges him slightly with one of his legs, “It’ll be fine. You’ll see, in no time you’ll have a restraining order and Carver behind bars if he ever breaches it. And if that’s not enough, remember that we all know how to get rid of monsters, I don’t think that self-righteous asshole would put up much of a fight.”

“What’s this!? Golden boy Harrington willing to defend my honor?” Eddie says, half joking in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“If necessary.” Shit, he’s serious.

“You, you would really go to that extreme?”

“To keep you safe? Of course.” Eddie is stunned into silence by the earnest delivery of Steve’s words.

“You realize Steve’s won like one fight in his entire life right?” It’s Dustin, they’d both assumed he was still asleep, neither noticing when the snores had stopped.

“I– that- that’s not true.” Steve stammers, his face twisting into a frown as he shifts so he can look at Dustin.

“Alright, name 2, and Demogorgons don’t count.”

“What?! How do Demogorgons not count?!” Steve replies, his voice raising of its own accord, but thankfully not enough to wake Max.

“Because Demogorgons don’t fist fight.”

“Exactly! How is beating a Demogorgon less impressive than beating a person?”

“I don’t know Steve, why don’t you explain how you can face off with a pack of Demodogs and survive but you can’t beat Jonathan Byers in a fight?”

“As entertaining as this is,” Eddie interjects, amusement written across his features, “Maybe it can wait until later yeah?” He suggests with a small nod towards Max who is starting to stir, if they keep talking they’re going to wake her and she needs the rest.

“Yeah, we should all try to get some more sleep, it’ll be alright.” Steve says, his voice softening, “And for the record, Dustin, all that stuff I said about protecting Eddie? I’d do the same for you.” He doesn’t say it but there’s the unspoken implication that it applies to all of them, the kids, Robin, Nancy, and even Jonathan if it came to it.

“Steve?” It’s been a couple of minutes since Steve last spoke, Dustin is already snoring again, and he’s not sure if Steve is even still awake, but he needs to say it once more.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say it again, thank you.”

“Go back to sleep Eddie.”

And surprisingly he does.

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

They eat breakfast together, Max, Eddie, Dustin, Steve, Wayne, and Susan all crammed into the Munson’s tiny trailer. Max knows they’ll go their separate ways afterward. Steve has to drive Dustin home to change clothes and get his school bag before he drives him to school, then he has to pick up Robin before her shift starts. While Wayne, Eddie, and her have to drive down to the police station.

“Dustin, could you please show this to Max’s teachers?” Her mom asks, rushing down the trailer steps to catch up with them before Dustin gets inside Steve’s beemer, “It’s a note to let them know Max won’t be going to school for a few days.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Hargrove.” Dustin takes the offered piece of paper with a toothy smile. He gets inside Steve’s car and they leave the trailer park.

“Thank you, mom.” Max wraps her arms around her mom, pulling her into a hug that doesn’t last long enough. She would have liked to stay in her embrace longer, but then her mom would be late for work and she would hate to get her in trouble with her boss.

“Take care kids,” Susan tells them before she heads out of the trailer park in her car.

“It’s weird to be called a kid by another adult that’s not Wayne.” It’s not the first time she’s said it, but even Max has noticed that it’s becoming a much more regular occurrence.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not really, Red.” Eddie places his hands on her shoulders, both watching her mom drive away. “I could get used to it.”

“Alright kids, let’s go,” Wayne says, closing the door of the trailer and walking to his truck.

-----------

The process of filing the complaint is smoother and faster than Eddie had thought it’d be, it helps that the chief of police is on his side and that Hawkins is a small town where nothing ever really happens. Other than the whole interdimensional monsters thing, a girl with superpowers, and a secret Russian base under the local mall, of course.

Two weeks. Two and a half weeks is how long it takes for him to be called to the courthouse. This is the part that had been worrying him the most, the wait leading up to this moment. His friends tried to take his mind off it, constant visits, Max rarely leaving his side, it helped, but not as much as seeing Jason and his minions standing in a courtroom.

The whole ordeal feels like a fever dream. Between an unexpected turn of events involving Andy and Brad turning their backs on Jason when they learn about the consequences of their actions otherwise, Jason almost losing it during the hearing and threatening Eddie’s life in front of everyone, and his body still recovering from his injuries, he feels drained before the day is even over.

Max, Steve, Hopper and Wayne cheer when the judge announces their verdict. The four of them are being much too loud for the quiet of the courtroom, but they’re too caught up in their celebrations to care about the stern glare they’re getting from everyone around them.

Jason’s sentence is the heftiest out of the three of them, but they all receive a restraining order, a hefty fine, and community service as well as being required to cover Eddie’s medical bill. It’s not the harshest punishment they could have received, Wayne and Hopper had been pushing for jail time, but it’s more than Eddie ever expected.

The news of the Carvers leaving town comes a week later.

And just like that, it’s over.

#stranger things #steddie #Max Mayfield #dustin henderson #eddie munson

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