#if even trying this hard to hide how much pain I’m in doesn’t work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlerequiem · 3 months ago

Text

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

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

269 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 6 months ago

Text

I think I love you, still

Written for day 1 of @steddieangstyaugust, second chances. Title is from "Still" by AVEC.

Tags: modern au, exes to lovers, steddie dads, getting back together

words: 2.8k | AO3 | rated teen

"Steve, come on." Robin's eyes bore into him, the frustration palpable. Steve knows that look, knows it means he's missing something, but he can't quite figure out what.

"It's just, Liz was nice, okay? We had a nice time." Even as he says it, he knows it's a weak argument. The word 'nice' feels hollow, a placeholder for something he can't quite define.

Robin rolls her eyes. "Steve, 'nice' is what you call a weather forecast, not a date. If you were really into her, you'd have more to say."

"She laughed at my jokes, she looked pretty, she smelled nice—"

"But did you feel anything? Sparks? Butterflies? Anything more than just... niceness?" Robin interrupts, her voice softer now, more concerned than frustrated.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. He's always been good at charming his way through dates, but there's been an emptiness lately, a disconnect he can't quite explain.

Robin sighs, her expression softening. "Steve, you deserve more than just 'nice'. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive."

Steve glances away, feeling a pang of discomfort. He doesn't want to admit it, but Robin's words hit home. The hollow feeling he's been carrying around, the absence of excitement and genuine connection, has been gnawing at him. He knows she's right, but the thought of confronting it feels too overwhelming. Before he can dwell on it, he decides to change the subject. "I’m picking up Lily from Eddie’s later. You wanna come over and watch a movie tonight?”

Robin raises an eyebrow but plays along. "Would love to, but Vickie and I are going on a date. She’s finally got a night off at work and I plan on making the most of it.”

Steve waggles his eyebrows. “Someone’s getting laid tonight.”

“God, I really hope so. A girl has needs, Steve. Needs.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Steve laughs. “I’ll tell my daughter that her auntie Robbie prefers her girlfriend over her goddaughter. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Robin half laughs, half groans. “Oh my God, don’t say it like that. You know I love spending time with Lily, it’s just…”

“Robs, I was joking. I know you do. I’m happy for you and Vickie. Go out, have a great night with the love of your life. Lily and I won’t run away.”

Robin nudges his shoulder with hers, her smile warm but tinged with concern. “Thanks, Steve. You know, you deserve that kind of happiness too.”

Steve's smile falters slightly, his eyes flickering away. “Yeah, well...”

“Steve,” Robin says softly, “you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re still hurting.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple, Robs. I can’t just… move on. Not when I see Eddie all the time because of Lily.”

Robin’s gaze softens even more, and she places a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to move on, but you do need to face how you feel. Avoiding it isn’t helping anyone, least of all you.”

He looks at her, his eyes big and pleading. Why is it still so hard, even after all these months? “I don’t know what you want me to say. That I still love him? That every time I see him, it feels like someone’s twisting a knife in my chest? Because it does, okay? But that doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh Steve” Robin says, voice full of the same pain he’s feeling. He knows how much it’s hurting her to see him in pain, that’s why he’s been trying to hide it from her. “Maybe it doesn’t change what happened, but it could change what happens next. You and Eddie were great together. And from what I hear, he’s been just as lost without you.”

Steve blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Robin takes a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. “Eddie… he’s been different since you two broke up. Chrissy said he’s been distant, not just with you but with everyone. I think he’s hurting just as much as you are.”

Steve’s heart aches at the thought of Eddie in pain. “Then why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he try to fix things?”

It's true, it was Steve who said those last words: Maybe we should break up. He hadn't said it because he didn't love Eddie anymore. But they fought all the time, about everything. When they first started dating, things had been so much easier. They never had big fights, just little things that would be fixed in no time before they had great make-up sex.

All that changed when they adopted Lily. He could never, not for one second, regret the miracle that was their little girl. But she showed them in bright technicolor all the things that weren't working between them.

Suddenly, money became a real problem. So did their jobs and hobbies, and the way Eddie could never clean up after himself, and Steve's tendency to become a mother hen and a control freak, with his anxiety making him moody and bitchy.

Breaking up had seemed like the most logical step, and when Steve had suggested it, Eddie had just hung his head and said, "Maybe you're right. Lily shouldn't grow up with her dads fighting all the time."

And that was it. They separated. There was no yelling, no slammed doors, no broken dishes. Just silence, devastating and final in a way that no fight between them had ever been.

"Maybe he thought you would be better off without him. Or maybe he's just as scared as you are," Robin suggests gently, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. "Look, all I'm saying is maybe tonight could be a chance for the two of you to talk. Really talk."

Steve shakes his head, conflicted. "I don't know if I can, Robs. What if it just makes things worse?"

Robin squeezes his arm reassuringly. "Or what if it makes things better? You won't know until you try. And you both deserve to be happy, together or apart. But you have to give yourselves the chance to find out. It's been two years, Steve. Don't you think the fact that you're still in love with him means something?"

"I think it means I'm really bad at moving on and letting things go. Look how long it took me to get over Nance."

"It's not the same and you know it. You and Eddie... I've never seen you look as happy as when you were with him. And I know you two ended things for a reason, but Chrissy told me that Eddie has gotten really good at the whole adult thing, y'know. And he takes good care of Lilly. Even toddler-proofed the recording studio so he could take her with him."

The thought makes him smile. He didn't know that, but it makes a warm feeling spread in his chest.

Steve exhales, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. "All right, I'll think about it. But no promises."

Robin gives him an encouraging smile. "That's all I'm asking. Just... be honest with yourself, Steve. And with Eddie."

Steve nods, feeling a mixture of dread and anticipation. As he leaves to pick up Lily, Robin's words echo in his head. Should he be honest with Eddie? Tell him how much he misses waking up with Eddie's curls tickling his face, his warm body pressed against his own. Open up and admit how he still falls asleep on the couch wrapped in Eddie's Metallica hoodie? Explain to Eddie why the days they trade Lily are both the best and worst days of his week?

As he drives to Eddie's, memories flood his mind-their first date, the day they adopted Lily, the laughter, the love, the heartache. He's scared, but underneath the fear is a glimmer of hope. Robin said that Eddie might miss him, too. That he has grown. And Steve thinks maybe they both have. Because Steve realizes that he, too, has changed, has settled into his responsibilities as Lily's dad.

Maybe he'll ask Eddie to join him and Lily for their movie night, and then they can put her to bed together like they did when they first had her. Before everything blew up in their faces. And then, if things go well, he could open a bottle of wine for them and they could talk.

When he arrives at Eddie's apartment building, Steve has made up his mind, his heart beating faster at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they might get a second chance.

He knocks on the door with an almost giddy smile on his face, which only grows when the door is flung wide open before he's even finished knocking.

Lily jumps into his arms and Eddie steps into the door with a smile. They exchange a few words about Lily's visit with her dad, the usual polite conversation that feels painfully superficial to Steve. He can see the exhaustion in Eddie's eyes, the way his smile doesn't quite reach them, and it only makes his heart ache more.

Summoning his courage, Steve takes a deep breath. "Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to join Lily and me for a movie night tonight? Just like old times."

Eddie hesitates, and for a brief moment, Steve's heart lifts with hope. But then Eddie glances away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, I'd love to, Steve, but I actually have a date tonight."

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut. He struggles to keep his composure, forcing a smile that feels like it's cracking his face. "Oh, that's great. I hope you have a good time."

"Thanks," Eddie replies, his gaze softening with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Steve nods quickly, not trusting his voice to hold steady if he says more. "Yeah, of course. No worries. I just thought it would be nice. Anyway, have fun."

Eddie's eyes linger on Steve, as if searching for something unsaid, but he doesn't press further. Steve feels the weight of those eyes on his back as he turns to leave, Lily clutching his hand tightly. He tries to act normal, to hide the turmoil churning inside him, but every step away from Eddie's door feels like a step deeper into his own loneliness.

As they walk to the car, Lily chatters about her day, her innocent excitement a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Steve's heart. He listens, nodding and smiling at the right moments, but his mind is elsewhere, replaying the scene over and over.

When they finally reach the car, Steve lifts Lily into her seat and buckles her in, his hands trembling slightly. He takes a moment to compose himself before getting into the driver's seat, glancing at his daughter in the rearview mirror. Her wide, curious eyes meet his, and he forces another smile.

"Ready to go home, kiddo?" he asks, his voice strained but steady.

Lily nods enthusiastically, and as they drive away from Eddie's apartment, Steve's thoughts drift back to Robin's advice. Maybe he should be honest with Eddie, but tonight isn't the night. Tonight, he needs to focus on Lily, to find solace in the simple joy of spending time with his daughter.

At home, he helps Lily settle at the kitchen table with her crayons and coloring book before moving to make them dinner.

“Spaghetti-O's okay, baby?” he asks, already knowing her answer.

“Yayyy!” she cheers, lifting both arms in a way she clearly picked up from Eddie.

They both settle on the couch with their dinner on their laps, indulging in the treat as Steve starts the movie. Finding Dory, a movie Robin recommended. Lily is totally engrossed in the adventures on screen, giving Steve the freedom to let his mind wander. He tries to push those thoughts away, but the image of Eddie with some faceless guy keeps intruding.

It hurts, and he wonders again if he could have done something different. Maybe if he’d said something, told Eddie about his feelings earlier… He’s still convinced that breaking up was the right decision, that it wasn’t working and that Lily was the one suffering because of it. Back then, they had forgotten how to talk to each other. But now, Steve feels like they could re-learn, not just how to talk but how to be together, if they could give each other the time and space to do so.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the doorbell ring. It’s only when Lily pulls at his sleeve that he looks up.

“Huh?”

“Someone’s at the door.”

Steve's heart races as he moves to the door, unsure who could be visiting at this hour. He opens it to find Eddie standing there, a hesitant smile on his face. He’s not dressed up, instead wearing a well-worn pair of dark jeans and a soft-looking hoodie.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly.

“Hey,” Steve replies, his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. “I thought you had a date?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “Yeah, about that… I canceled. Figured I’d rather be here with you and Lily. If that’s okay?”

Steve’s heart skips a beat, his mind racing. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”

Eddie steps inside, and Lily's face lights up. “Daddy Eddie!” she squeals, running to hug him. Eddie scoops her up, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey, princess. How’s my favorite girl?”

“Good! We’re watching Finding Dory!” Lily announces proudly.

“Sounds like fun,” Eddie says, setting her down gently. He looks at Steve, his expression softening. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Steve says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get you a plate.”

As they settle back on the couch, the atmosphere is charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. Eddie sits beside Steve, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brush. It’s a small contact, but it sends shivers down Steve’s spine.

Throughout the movie, Steve finds it hard to concentrate. His mind is a whirl of emotions, questions, and hopes. He glances at Eddie, who seems equally distracted, though he’s making a valiant effort to engage with Lily and the movie.

When the credits finally roll, Lily is already half asleep, nestled between them. Eddie looks at her with a tender smile, then at Steve. "She's grown so much," he says softly. "Every time I look at her, I swear she's grown another inch."

"Yeah, she has," Steve agrees, his voice just as soft. "It doesn't help that you only see her every other week."

"Ouch," Eddie winces and Steve's head whips around.

"Oh God, Eddie, no! That's not what I meant. I feel like I've been putting my foot in my mouth around you lately," Steve says with big, pleading eyes and color in his cheeks, "What I meant to say is that Lily misses you, you know. We both do."

Eddie's face softens, his eyes flickering with feeling. "I miss being with both of you, too. Every day."

Steve's heart aches at the admission and he decides to take Robin's advice. "Eddie, I..." he begins, just as Eddie says, "Steve...."

Eddie hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Steve, I was getting ready for my date, but I couldn't stop thinking about the expression on your face when I told you. It was like a punch to the gut."

Steve's eyes widen in surprise, but he stays silent, letting Eddie continue.

"I realized in that moment that all I wanted was to spend the evening with you and Lily, like a family," Eddie says, his voice trembling slightly. "No date could ever measure up to the way I feel when I'm around you."

Steve's heart races, his breath catching in his throat. "Eddie, I... I don't know what to say."

Eddie reaches out, gently taking Steve's hand in his. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just... know that I still love you, Steve. I never stopped. And I miss us, more than words can say."

Steve's eyes fill with tears, his grip on Eddie's hand tightening. "I miss us too, Eddie. Every single day."

Eddie pulls Steve into a hug, their daughter still nestled between them. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay? For Lily. For us."

Steve nods, feeling a sense of hope he hasn't felt in a long time. "Yeah, one step at a time."

As they sit there, holding each other, Steve knows this is the beginning of something new. It won't be easy, but he's hopeful that they've both learned from past mistakes. This was their second chance, and he knows they'll make it this time. Together, as a family.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie angst #steddieangstyaugust #my writing

195 notes · View notes

mythicmanuscripts · 6 months ago

Note

oh my goodness! okay, first and foremost -- thank you for all the stuff you write, it is SO hard to get good sub!HOTD boys content, you are literally an oasis in the desert. i've binge read and then reread all you stuff and it is FANTASTIC!!

what about sweet, sensitive sub!jace already in subspace or even in subdrop? maybe you find him that way when you walk in, and you give him all the cuddles and comfort and touch him how he needs with all the love?

I love this idea!! I’m so so glad to hear that you like my stuff, I started this blog specifically because I was struggling to find sub!hotd characters content so I am very happy to hear you’re liking my stuff.

This idea is brilliant and I definitely would love to discuss Jace in subspace and subdrop more so if anyone has any ideas let me know!! For now I’m gonna write you walking in on Jace in subspace and teetering on the edge of subdrop. So angsty NSFW sub!jace below the cut! But I don’t worry, there’s a happy ending!!

So firstly, as we’ve said before, Jace wouldn’t like jerking off at all. Sure it felt good and he went through being a horny teenager, but he didn’t like it because of how sensitive and overwhelmed he got afterwards. Jerking off always resulted in him crying himself to sleep and trying desperately to make sure nothing touches cock.

Of course this all changes when he meets you and he experiences how good things can feel and how safe he can be when there’s someone there to help him. He can hide in your chest every time he cums and you’ll hold his hand afterwards and you’ll never ever be disappointed in him for not being able to continue.

All of this is to say that after he married you he masturbated even less than before. Now that he knows how it is with you, he never wants to experience it alone again.

So even if you were away for weeks, I don’t think Jace would be able to bring himself to do more than grind against your pillow until you return.

However, I think this scenario could happen if you get called away? Like maybe you and Jace are spending the morning in bed, having a very rare relaxed moment together. You’ve been kissing for a while, hands wondering all over each other’s body. Jace is so plaint in your arms, letting you do whatever you want and trying his best to actually kiss you back instead of just whining into your mouth.

You start to palm him through his briefs then, listening to the way he whimpers your name. You’re gentle with it, because you don’t want to overwhelm him. You stick to just softly palming his bulge and praising him for being so so good for you.

He’s starting to get really worked up when a messenger knocks on the door. You know it must be serious because Jace told everyone not to either you two that morning unless absolutely necessary. You go talk to the person at the door, and they tell you something has happened that needs you or Jace, or preferably both.

Jace is in absolutely no state to be in public whatsoever, so sending him or coming with him are both out of the question. But you can’t avoid this, someone needs to handle this.

So as much as it pains you to do, you go back to Jace and explain what happened, telling him that you’re going to go sort it out and that he doesn’t need to move or do anything at all. Jace, bless him, is as understanding as he can be. He knows this is a war and any of you could be called upon at any time, but damnit he was so enjoying the slow morning make out session.

You give him a kiss on the forehead and tell him that you’ll be be back as soon as you can. You also tell him that he can cum on his own or just jerk off on his own because you don’t want Jace to become too desperate to stop himself and then he feels like he’s done something very bad even when he really hasn’t.

So with all that done, you race off to handle the chaos, and when you rerun the sight that greets you is heartbreaking.

You realise pretty quickly that Jace jacked off and came, not only because of how you found him but also because he didn’t have his underclothes on anymore.

He’s curled up on the bed, hugging your pillow with tears down his cheeks. Every now and then his hips will twitch and his poor cock will be subjected to even more stimulation, causing him to whine and shake even more.

When you call his name, his head shoots up and instantly he’s sitting up and holding his arms out to show he wants you to join him. You can see by the look in his eyes that he must have gone into subspace at some point.

You were sure he wasn’t in subspace when you left, but you realise he must have been on the brink of subspace when you had to leave and that jerking off is probably what made him go into subspace.

Jace is always needy in subspace, and just feels everything so much. He’s so sweet and giggly and playing when he feels safe in your arms, but he’s prone to spiralling if you aren’t there.

You’re quick to sit on the bed and motion Jace to sit with you. He all but dives into you lap, his legs dangling over your lap with his torso leaning sideways against you.

You just stroke him and kiss his head not promise him that you’re right here. When he calms downs, he looks up at you and whispers that he touched himself while you were gone. By this point there’s no point in trying to remind him that you gave him permission to do it, right now he won’t listen to reason and just needs comfort.

He’s so close to subdrop and he’s so overwhelmed and he feels so so bad that he couldn’t even wait for you today to finish your duties and instead had to touch himself when you left because he was too worked up not to.

You manage to just about keep him in subspace and not in subdrop by ensuring he knows you’re not angry with him and he’s still so so so good for you.

In the end he ends up sliding down the bed to eat you out, and just floats there for a while.

#sub!jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jacaerys valaryon x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

119 notes · View notes

interstellar-productions · 3 months ago

Text

Thinking so many thoughts honestly, about Aaron currently (spiritually not situationally I relate to him, it’s complicated). Aaron so specifically speaks to me because of how (at least with the crumbs we’re fed by canon) he internalizes and deals with his trauma. He WANTS to be normal. In fact he tries so hard to be normal (as society interprets normality) that he actively distances himself and represses any part of him that may lead people to viewing him as anything other then normal.

In my mind this was probably done intentionally, it creates a contrast between him and Andrew (and is probably why Neil is able to tell the twins apart pretty much from the get go). Andrew doesn’t speak about his trauma but he also doesn’t necessarily minimize it. Andrew makes himself big, body language wise he’s very loud. “Look at me, at what they did to me. Look at who I became”. Andrew is a warning sign, he lets his bleeding wounds show and mixes them with ragged bone and snarling teeth. Andrew is telling people without telling people what will happen if someone crosses him.

In contrast Aaron hides, his pain and his scares. Aaron turns everything inwards, shoving it all into closets and under beds. If he blends in then maybe no one will notice him enough to pick him out. Hiding in plane sight. Aaron works so hard to be normal and is canonically known as the least interesting and most normal fox, despite having a murder charge and being a recovered addict. He is the normal fox. People overlook him, glance right over him, his teammates, peers, everyone. Perfect grades, good at his sports, girl next door girlfriend. Aaron is so painfully NORMAL.

It speaks so deeply because it’s so obvious to me that its a coping mechanism and not actually because that’s how he really is. If he was just painfully normal we wouldn’t get some of his more violent or assholeish out burst and he probably wouldn’t have that grudge against Bee. His grudge against Bee is actually what sparked this whole thing for me. He hates Bee, he says that he’s never actually spoken a word to her and even when he starts sessions with Andrew he’s really just speaking to Andrew while Bee is in the room rather then directly speaking to Bee. My little psych major mind (mixed with my personal feelings but HUSH) is just screaming that this whole “I’m normal look right through me please I’m normal”. It’s how he COPES. This guy grew up at least a little bit inside a church (because Luther) and had to hide both bruises and addiction and whatever else was going on inside that house. Statistically speaking there’s two major ways you internalize trauma like that. And I love Aaron and Andrew because their those two ways basically. Aaron is trying so hard to be so Normal that he becomes basically invisible. Blending into the background.

He probably has everyone convinced that he’s got it all in the bag, all his shit? It’s in a sock, don’t even worry about it. He’s got the grades, the girlfriend and he plays a sport. Bro is literally sitting pretty to be so uninteresting that he gets nothing but a cursory glance, and it’s totally part of his scheme. No one’s going to think to ask questions he doesn’t want them too. Not about his past and not about what’s going on in his life. “Oh that’s Aaron yeah I’ve got advanced chem with him, yeah good guy. I think he plays exy.” Aaron doesn’t want people to ask questions, because he knows he’s towing the line. Does he have it all together? Or is he desperately trying to keep all his shit in the boxes he’s stuffed it in? Who knows. Aaron probably doesn’t even know.

Aaron gives me “fake it til you make it” vibes that it actually hurts my soul. This man wants to be normal so bad that he’s doing everything he can to not have to address what’s actually wrong, because acknowledging something’s wrong means acknowledging that he is in fact NOT normal. And he wants to be normal because being normal is how you survive. (How he got Tilda to not beat him for dragging the wrong sort of attention to her)

My psych major mind is absolutely consumed by AFTG because to me they represent all the different ways that trauma can manifest in people. Basically all of the foxes (even and Renee Wymack) are the violent kind. Their teeth and warning signs, don’t get too close, don’t step on my toes. But they all show it so differently. Renee for example is the healed sort of violent, she’s faced the majority of her demons and won, she knows she’ll be able to handle you if you step out of line (see her ruining the nest). Nicky is the loud kind. He’s not the break bone sort of violent but he is the make you uncomfortable kind. So much of Nicky’s early character (Foxhole court) is him giving off borderline predatory vibes. His jokes, his mannerisms, the whole Edens trip. It’s his version of violent. He makes you uncomfortable so he knows whose safe and who isn’t.

Then you have aaron and his whole character is a ticking time bomb. Aaron isn’t normal because he’s healed, he’s normal because its the only way he knows to survive. That’s why he doesn’t like Bee. Bee is a psychologist, her whole job is to know their problems and fix them and the fact he even has to go sit in a room with her is a threat to his overall performance of normality. Because normal people don’t NEED therapy.

Screams into the void, I’m so normal about him.

Also all of this is just my personal little ramblings about a purely fictional character that reminds me of myself as it relates to the topic of interest I’m currently studying. If you don’t agree with me that’s totally fine, if you have different preconceptions about him thats totally ok too. This is just my little brain rot corner of the internet and I’m just trying to have fun.

To the 3 people that wanted to see my deranged psych rambles i hope this reaches you, this is all for you!

#all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #twinyards #star’s ramblings #psych major bullshitting on the internet #I’m just an oldest daughter putting my oldest daughter trauma on a 5ft blond #Aaron is so thought daughter coded you don’t understand #it’s weird bc in my head Andrew is older but Aaron is oldest daughter coded #paradox’s of twins ig #like 3 people wanted my deranged ramblings so here you go #please why am i so scared for this to be out on the internet #this feels like I’m posting my dairy entry for the world to see

137 notes · View notes

oldsoul007 · 10 days ago

Text

breaking walls

qz!joel miller x reader

summary: y/n couldn’t hide her true feelings for joel anymore after finding peace in each other for so long

joel miller masterlist

The quarantine zone was a place where life was as unpredictable as the weather—people fought for scraps, made deals in the shadows, and tried to carve out some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos. I had learned how to survive in the QZ, how to navigate the dangerous, grim reality. But there was one part of my life that I couldn’t quite keep under control: Joel Miller.

Joel was a gruff, no-nonsense man with a hard exterior, the kind of guy who kept his emotions buried so deep it was hard to tell where the man ended and the walls he’d built around himself began. I’d known him for a while, and what started as an occasional exchange of favors—a little help with some scrounged goods, a quiet drink shared at the local bar—had evolved into something… more.

But not too much more.

We’d never put a label on it, but there was something between us. We were friends… with benefits. That was how it worked, and it was enough, I told herself. I didn’t need more, especially not with the world we lived in. I’d settled into the role, knowing full well what I was getting into. No attachments. No expectations.

At least, that was the plan.

The day I walked into Joel’s rundown apartment, something felt different. It had been a long, rough week, and I had hoped the usual exchange of heated glances and quiet, comforting moments would help ease the tension. But as soon as I stepped through the door, Joel was already there—waiting. His usual gruff demeanor was softened by something else, something I couldn’t place. His eyes met me with an intensity that made my heart skip.

Before I could even say a word, he was on me. His lips crushed against mine, urgent, desperate. I was taken off guard, but I responded, my hands finding his chest, pulling him closer. His grip tightened, like he was trying to pull me into him, to fuse our bodies together. It was raw, intense—a passion that surprised me.

But even as I kissed him back, something inside me recoiled.

This was never supposed to happen.

I pulled away, breathless, my fingers still tangled in his shirt. I looked up at him, my eyes searching his face for any sign of understanding.

“Joel…” I began, but my voice faltered.

He reached for me again, his lips brushing my cheek, but I pulled back, stepping out of his grasp.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His expression shifted to something unreadable, his brow furrowing slightly, but his body tensed, like he was bracing for something.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice rough, a little confused.

I took a step back, my heart pounding. “I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t mean something. I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you. I—” My voice broke, the weight of my words crashing down on me.

Joel stood there, silent, his expression closed off. He didn’t move toward me, didn’t try to fix it. He just… stood there.

My chest tightened, my eyes filling with frustration and pain. “I can’t keep doing this, Joel. Not anymore. I can’t keep giving myself to you when all you do is shut me out.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but no words came out. His lips pressed together in a thin line, and his gaze never left mine.

With a deep, shaky breath, I turned and hurried out of the apartment, the door slamming behind me with a finality that echoed in the stillness of the QZ.

For weeks after that, Joel kept trying to talk to me—always the same routine. He would catch me at the market or outside the walls of the compound, his voice low and apologetic, his eyes full of regret.

“I’m not mad, you know,” he’d say. “Just need to understand what you’re saying.”

But I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I couldn’t bring herself to listen. I was angry, hurt, and scared. I didn’t want to feel this way. I wanted to move on, to forget about him and his damn walls. But I couldn’t.

I loved him.

And it tore me apart.

One afternoon, after yet another long, silent stretch between us, I was walking through the streets of the QZ when I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around, half-expecting it to be one of the usual assholes trying to sell me fake goods—but it was Joel. Again.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice strained but determined. “Can we talk?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to scream.

“Joel, please—”

But before I could walk away, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not aggressive. “Just… let me talk,” he said. His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long time, I saw the man behind the walls—the vulnerability that was always buried so deep. “I need you to understand something.”

I pulled my arm free, but instead of walking away, I just… stopped.

Joel took a deep breath, stepping closer to me. “I can’t… I couldn’t let anyone in after Sarah. You know that, right? I didn’t know how to. But damn it, y/n… I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to make this a mess, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel something for you. I love you.”

The words hit me like a freight train, leaving me breathless. I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“I love you, okay?” Joel continued, his voice cracking with emotion. “I just… didn’t know how to let anyone in again. I didn’t know if I could survive it. But I can’t—” He shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. “I can’t stay away from you, y/n. I don’t want to anymore.”

My breath hitched as my eyes filled with tears. I blinked them away, stepping closer to him. For the first time in forever, the walls between us were gone. He was finally letting me in.

“You mean it?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Joel nodded, his hands reaching for me, pulling me close. “I do. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out."

I didn't say anything else.

I closed the distance, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him deeply, pouring every ounce of love I’d kept locked away into that kiss.

We both knew the world outside wasn't kind, but for the first time in a long time, it didn't matter.

In each other's arms, we were finally free of the walls we’d both been hiding behind.

100 notes · View notes

spotsandsocks · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii spotty 💕💕💕

🎃 + dawn/sunrise

-❤️🪐

Hi Saturn, managed to use both words here and it got a little longer at nearly 1k. A little angsty but not too bad. Hope you enjoy. Thank for inspiring me.

“Wondered where you went.”

A quick glance over his shoulder reveals that Hen has that kind of look on her face. Buck looks away quickly, he’s not ready to talk but she already knows that, she’s Hen after all.

The unpleasant scrape of metal on concrete makes him wince as Hen settles down in one of the chairs they use up here. It’s clear she intends to wait him out.

“Don’t worry, no one else is gonna join us.”

That’s not the comfort she thinks it is because it only emphasises who isn’t going to be checking on him and they both know why he can’t and that if he could he wouldn’t need checking up on in the first place. Ironic huh.

The edge of the weather beaten brick beneath his fingers is rough and catches at his skin. The texture and prickle of pain gives him something to focus on other than the reason he’s hiding up here.

“Bobby says come down when you’re ready, but that you don’t have to be ready anytime soon, he said it’s ok to take a minute, it was a rough call.”

It was.

“Eddie said you’d be up here, told me to tell you he’d be here as soon as Chim is done with him, we thought, well he thought I should keep you company until he can.

How considerate of him. Deliberately relaxing his suddenly tense jaw and dropping his shoulders Buck breathes through the surge of anger Eddie sending Hen to check up on him generates. Hen wouldn’t need to be keeping him company if the company he should have after a call hadn’t been so fucking stupid that he needed a full check up and time to convince Chim and Bobby that a trip to the hospital wasn’t required.

“I’m fine.”

He can’t look at her while he lies, not that it matters much, Hen won’t believe him anyway, hell he doesn’t believe him and she’s a lot smarter than he is.

He hears her snort of amusement and she doesn’t even try to hide the sacrasam in her voice,

“Oh I can tell. Totally fine.”

Eyes fixed firmly on what little of the horizon he can see through the LA skyline, the changing quality of light makes it clear that sunrise is just around the corner, a new day is beckoning. It’s a new day that might not have had Eddie in it.

He shuts his eyes but that’s no help because he just sees it all again. The chain of events that rushed past him and led to the accident.

“How’s he doing?”

Addressing the question to the air he doesn’t need to see her face to know what expression is on it.

“It’s not actually as bad as it looked, most of the blood wasn’t even his.”

The words spark another memory and he uses techniques he’s been taught to fight off a fierce wave of nausea. He changes the subject. It’s easier that way.

“I like it up here. It’s quiet. Sometimes I come up and watch the sunrise when I can’t sleep.”

She lets him have a moment of peace then breaks it.

“He didn’t mean to scare anyone, especially you, you know that right?”

He keeps his eyes on the approaching dawn and stays quiet.

“It’s our job. You know that too.”

It is. He does. Doesn’t make it any easier.

“You’ve done the same. Worse even.”

Also true. Also unhelpful. He knows how to spell hypocrite with only four letters without her help.

“It’s going to be hard, you both knew that, but it’ll be harder if you’re not there when it matters. I know that much.”

Her words hit him hard. What if he hadn’t been there. What if they had moved to different shifts or worse stations. What if he’d heard about it later and it hadn’t worked out as well as it had. What if he’d always have to wonder if he could have saved his husband if he’d been there.

Well he was there and he’d stayed calm even if he’d been more terrified than he’d ever been. He’d done what they promised Bobby they’d do. Their job. He’d listened to his Captain, followed his commands. He’d done exactly what Bobby had said. He’d helped get Eddie out of the mess he was in.

It becomes a little easier to breathe.

“Cap says you handled it well. Did your job. He’s proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too.”

He turns his back on the sunrise because it’s not Hen’s voice this time. His eyes fall on the grazes on his cheek, the deeper cut on his forehead that Chim has treated. He notes every one of the bruises forming on the skin that’s visible and knows there will be more under his clothes that he’ll check later. He looks tired and worried and he’s still far more beautiful than any dawn Buck has ever seen.

Hen’s vanished. It’s just him and his husband, dealing with the aftermath of their first real trauma since they got together.

“Am I forgiven?”

He doesn’t answer just crosses the rooftop to him as fast as he can and holds on, probably too tightly judging by the small sound he makes but Eddie hugs back just as tightly regardless.

“You did your job. Nothing to forgive.”

Eddie kisses his cheek softly, the tension in him vanishing. He sounds relieved.

“So did you, I’m glad you were there.”

He’s not ready to let go yet, and Eddie understands that, so they stay there a while longer, holding each other both remembering the day they shook hands and agreed they could maybe have each other's back.

Today wasn’t the first time they kept that promise and it won’t be the last, it will be hard for them both but they belong beside each other and Buck wouldn’t have it any other way. No matter the cost.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #Spottys trick or treating #in box trick or treating #buddie fic #911 abc #911 fic #911fic

74 notes · View notes

aritany · 10 months ago

Text

On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn.

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt.

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come.

Your sunshine will come.

#long post #alex talks #tw transphobia #trans day of visibility #international transgender day of visibility #tw homophobia #tw suicide #tw self harm

233 notes · View notes

revelboo · 4 months ago

Note

hiii, I love you and have been brainrotting over your works for the past 20 hours 🫶

I just write the silly things that pop into my head, but I’m glad, and surprised, other folks enjoy them.

Skin and Bones Pt 3

Megatron x reader- playful

• Shrill and painful as a something drilling straight into his processor, Megatron winces as the sound finally cuts off. An alarm or..? No, of course not. There’s the human running full tilt from an open doorway, Soundwave’s cassettes in pursuit. As Ravage pounces near, the human screeches again in mock fear despite their grin.

• They’re… playing? How long has it been since he’s heard any Cybertronians cutting up? Having fun. He just stops, not sure what to make of it. Especially as Rumble catches the human around the waist to sling over a shoulder upside down. Prey caught, the cassettes finally notice him and go still. It takes the squirming human longer, but their grin fades when they realize the fun is over and spot him.

• And even thought they’re all grown, they react like sparklings caught doing something wrong- they all bolt, Rumble dropping the human in his haste.

• That jerk. You land mostly on your shoulder and back in an inelegant sprawl, staring upside down as Rumble runs like all of hell is right on his heels. Which might not be too far off, you decide as you roll to your knees and keep your head down. Because the Decepticon leader is staring at you with a frown so severe you want to hide and there’s nowhere to go.

• Venting heavily, he kneels down to offer you a single servo, his big hand hovering close as if he wants to pick you up, but isn’t sure. Cautiously, you grab onto that servo and allow him to gently pull you to your feet before letting go. And he just stares at that servo in silence. Probably wondering what all germs you just got on him, you guess. He certainly doesn’t look happy about it and your shoulders droop slightly.

• “Do you fear me?” He asks, not quite sure why when he knows the inevitable answer. Fear is the currency he’s learned best how to spend over the decades. It keeps his motley ranks mostly in line. He’d accepted a long time ago that it was better to be feared than loved. Safer, too.

• Head tipping back to stare up at the huge mech, it’s a surprise to realize that, no, you don’t exactly fear him. He’s had plenty of chances to hurt you and hasn’t. Oddly enough, Skywarp is much scarier. This one? The big, bad warlord? Honestly, he just seems too exhausted all the time to bother with being a threat. Though, come to think of it, you have seen the other side, too. Little glimpses of an ice cold, barely restrained violence in his tone when speaking with his subordinates. Apparently, you’re not worth the doom voice. “Should I?”

• Probably. He’s not sure if it’s naïveté or bravery when you meet his optics, seeming genuinely curious about his answer. “Why were they chasing you?” He asks instead.

• Nose wrinkling as he ignores your question, you shrug. You’re an adult, but yeah, it’s not like it really matters what the giant aliens think about you. You get bored. “Playing tag,” you admit. And losing badly at tag, because you’re so much slower than they are. His stare is still blank and you throw out your arms. “Someone’s it. They have to tag someone else to not be it. Being it is bad,” you ramble.

• More silence. You’re definitely being judged by an ancient, evil robot. Exasperation winning out over caution, you lunge over to swat his servo. Hard. “You’re it.” Glowing red optics slide from his servo to you and you still have no idea what he’s thinking. What you’re thinking? You really, really wish you hadn’t done that. “No tag backs,” you yelp, realizing his retaliation is likely to smear you on the floor.

• Instead he vents softly, rises and stalks away. For a second, one corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. You suppose evil warlords don’t play games. Probably ruins the whole evil appearance he has going. Heart racing, you start back toward Soundwave’s quarters, not at all surprised when Frenzy and the other cassettes are waiting around a corner safely out of range of retaliation to ambush you. And you’re it again.

Previous Next

#transformers #idw megatron #megatron x reader

385 notes · View notes

bloody-bee-tea · 5 months ago

Text

A truth for a truth

Shouta can tell that something has Shinsou agitated the moment the boy steps into the gym. He doesn’t even try to hide it, which makes Shouta think that for once maybe surprise wins out over fear or pain and the need to hide them, like it so rarely does with Shinsou and yet Shouta still waits until he’s standing right in front of him to speak.

“What?” Shouta asks, not worrying about his tone in the slightest because Shinsou has been training with him for weeks now, so the kid knows how Shouta operates.

And they have found that usually less words work well between them. As if to prove him right, Shinsou huffs out an annoyed breath before he looks Shouta in the eyes.

“Your hell-class has accused me of being your kid,” he states, and it prompts a frown from Shouta.

“They know I teach you. That would make you one of my problem children as well,” Shouta easily says, because he’s long past pretending that he doesn’t use the moniker with great fondness but to his surprise Shinsou shakes his head.

“No, I mean—they accused me of being your actual love child, with an as of yet unnamed woman,” he clarifies and oh. Yeah, okay, that makes more sense, considering that his hell-class is involved.

“As of yet?”

“That guy with the double quirk certainly has theories,” Shinsou almost spits out and Shouta bites back a laugh.

Yeah, Todoroki has shown a tendency to obsess over one tiny detail for far too long and then come up with the most outlandish theories. It’s kind of hilarious, most times, so Shouta fails to see how it could agitate the kid so much.

“And that upsets you?” he asks, because he’s not a mind reader, despite what the rumors say and Shinsou huffs out another breath.

“What upsets me is that half of your class nodded along with that guy’s outlandish theories but then they laughed all straight in my face when I told them that it’s highly unlikely, seeing how you and Mic-sensei are almost disgustingly married.”

Now that brings Shouta up short. The staffs knows of their marital status, of course, but they make it a point to keep it a secret from the kids and to be found out so easily, doesn’t sit right with Shouta, despite the fact that it’s just Shinsou. He doesn’t mind at all if the kid knows about their marriage but still. He shouldn’t have been able to figure it out in the first place.

“Now what would make you say that?” he wants to know and levels Shinsou with a look; one of the few that still work on the kid.

It works now as well, because Shinsou drags his shoulders up to his ears and shuffles from one foot to the other.

Shouta raises an eyebrow when Shinsou stays silent.

“Permission to speak plainly,” he finally mutters out and it almost makes Shouta laugh, because for all that he’s giving the kid a hard time right now, it’s hardly that serious.

“What do you mean?”

“I want you to promise me that no matter what I say next will not get me expelled or punished or—I don’t know, make you mad at me. That I can talk freely.”

Shouta immediately tenses as he’s reminded that Shinsou clearly did not grow up in a loving home if he has to clarify that, but this, at least, is easily rectified.

“Permission granted to say whatever you want,” he gives back and Shinsou takes a deep breath before he goes off.

“It’s just—so obvious,” he almost spits out and before Shouta can ask for more clarification, Shinsou goes on. “You go all—soft around him, and I don’t just mean the way you slouch when he’s in the room, because your slouch becomes more relaxed when he’s there, but your face—” Shinsou points an accusing finger at Shouta’s face and Shouta almost feels as if he’s done something wrong. It’s a novel feeling. “I’m pretty sure you don’t move a single muscle but whenever Mic-sensei is there your face does this thing, where it goes all soft, here,” Shinsou points to the corner of his eyes, “and here,” and then his mouth.

In all honesty, Shouta wasn’t aware he’s doing any of that, and Hizashi hasn’t pointed it out either, but maybe the kid is on to something. It’s worth inquiring after, later.

“Mic-sensei took a phone call in the middle of class one day, and he very loudly and very clearly called out ‘Shou-chan’. As far as I am aware Shouta is your first name so—” he trails off with a shrug but then seems to find his groove because he ploughs right on and Shouta is way too entertained to interrupt him, no promise at all needed in the first place.

“You always carry something for his throat around and he has your eyedrops at the ready and you may think you’re all subtle with the way he always just conveniently carries two cups of coffee when he arrives at school, but let me tell you, you’re not. Not to mention that you always get his cookies from the vending machine when you go for one of your jelly packs.”

Shinsou takes a deep breath, but he’s clearly not done yet.

“And you’re so—you’re always slightly annoyed with Midnight-sensei, though in that way that only friends have, and then you’re barely tolerant of Vlad-sensei and you’re downright hostile with All Might and really, Mic-sensei should be the same, because they are both loud blondes with blinding smiles but you’re just so—unbearably fond of him. Sure, you snap at him and he riles you up on purpose and you threaten him with your quirk when he threatens you with his but it’s so—” Shinsou lets out a frustrated groan. “It’s like you’re dancing to a song only you two can hear and you’ve been doing that for years, you have to, because it makes no sense otherwise. You wear a ring around your neck, at all times and even though Mic-sensei hides it well with his gloves, he's literally wearing a wedding ring all the damn time, too and you bicker! Like a disgustingly married couple. Which you are!”

Shinsou takes a few deep breaths before he completely deflates again.

Shouta is almost disappointed, because while all of that is true, Shinsou didn’t mention the most damning facts. Shouta has not been trying to keep his relationship with Hizashi a secret around him and he knows Hizashi is the same, though really, Shinsou should have picked up on so much more than he already has.

And as if just to spite him Shinsou speaks up again.

“And I’m only deliberately mentioning the things everyone can see. You all but said to me in private that you’re married. I know what it means when you say the staff knows you at that one restaurant, when you tell me you two have favourites together, when you leave training together. I’m not stupid.”

“Clearly,” Shouta drawls out and waits for anything more from Shinsou, so he doubts that he still has something up his sleeve.

“I’m done now,” he hoarsely whispers and it’s an unwelcome reminder that Shinsou is clearly not used to talking so much or so loudly without being interrupted and this might not be the right choice right now, but Shouta has to take a chance here.

“Am I wrong about any of that?” Shinsou wants to know when Shouta is too busy formulating his plan to speak but that finally gets him going.

“How about a deal?” Shouta asks and he clearly has Shinsou’s attention with that already. “How about I’m allowed to speak plainly for now as well, without you yelling at me, or getting angry, or shutting down and running off, and after I’m done we both tell the other if we are right or wrong?”

His words have left Shinsou tense and worried, Shouta can tell, and he almost wants to take it back, knows that it’s almost unfair, because the stakes are not at all the same for the two of them, but they’ve been dancing around this topic for so long. And Shouta is tired of it.

Tired of Shinsou flinching after several days at home, tired of spotting poorly hidden bruises, tired of faint marks on Shinsou’s face. He just wants him come to him with this, to ask for help, to accept help. Shouta just wants to get the kid out of the house he’s currently in and take him home, to his husband and his cats and a life he deserves.

And if he has to go about it this way, then so be it.

“Fine,” Shinsou bites out and Shouta doesn’t waste another second.

“Your home life is shit,” he plainly says and doesn’t let Shinsou’s flinch stop him. “They are keeping necessities from you; clothes that fit, stuff for school, money, even food.”

He personally made Shinsou’s meal plan, specifically tailored to him and the amount of training he’s doing and he should have put on so much more muscle than he actually has which can only mean one thing. He’s not eating enough and Shouta would bet his hero license on the fact that it’s not voluntary.

He’s being starved at home.

“They hurt you, physically but also verbally.”

Shouta doubts that Shinsou came up with half the insults he calls himself almost daily on his own.

“Sometimes they don’t allow you to come home at all. They threaten you with punishment. You’re not allowed to ask questions, probably not allowed to speak much at all and if you do, there’s a—”

Shouta’s voice fails him here briefly because he still remembers the tears running down Hizashi’s face as he makes helpless sounds behind the muzzle strapped too tightly to his face and the knowledge that it’s happening still, and to one of his kids, is almost unbearable.

“There’s a muzzle,” Shouta manages to finish and he doesn’t miss how Hitoshi ducks in on himself, as if he has to brace for a hit.

“You know it’s wrong, and you hate it there, but you’re too scared to say something because you don’t know where you’ll end up next and it could mean you have to pull out of U.A.,” Shouta goes on, and he’s certain in this, because he has seen Hitoshi’s file.

There are too many foster homes to count, too little time spent in too many of them and he doesn’t even want to think about the amount of trauma the kid must have accumulated.

“Are you done?” Shinsou spits out when Shouta is quiet for a moment too long, and he guesses that’s fair.

“I am,” he agrees and watches how Shinsou jerks his head to the side, and he pretends he doesn’t see the tears glistening in his eyes.

“Great, then how did I do?” Shinsou demands to know and Shouta gives him a small smile, because this right now, is the second part of this entire spiel.

“Not too bad, kid,” he admits. “Hizashi and I are married and have been for almost ten years now. But there is one thing you don’t know.”

“And what’s that?” Shinsou asks, still too rough, too sharp but Shouta’s smile doesn’t waver.

“We both have foster licenses. And we’re more than prepared to take in a kid, or, let’s say a stubborn, sassy, diligent, hard-working teenager from Gen Ed with a mob of unruly purple hair. Under the Emergency Foster Protocol at first, because that way the teenager would have to go home with us on the very same day, but we’re prepared to go through the proper channels to make it permanent. And then later official.”

It prompts a shuddering breath from Shinsou and Shouta is not too alarmed when he sees tears sliding down his cheeks.

“So, how did I do?” Shouta throws Shinsou’s words right back at him and for all that he knows that this is emotionally very difficult for Shinsou he was not quite prepared to find himself with an armful of sobbing teenager, so they both fall to the floor in an undignified heap.

Not that he minds it much, because Shinsou is clinging to him and surely that must mean something.

“They also sometimes lock me into the closet,” Shinsou gets out between his sobs and Shouta bites back his almost automatic response of ‘Wonderful’.

He and Shinsou have an understanding, sarcasm and sass one of the things they share between each other, but he doubts that the kid has even a thought to spare for that right now.

“Not anymore, kid, not anymore,” Shouta reassures him, because there is not a single universe out there where he will allow Shinsou to step back into that environment ever again.

Shinsou only clings tighter to him, hiding his face in Shouta’s chest as he cries and cries but not once does Shouta tell him to stop, because clearly Shinsou needs this out of his system.

It takes him a while to calm down again, time Shouta spends cradling the crying boy to his chest, but eventually Shinsou falls silent.

“Mic-sensei won’t mind?” he rasps out and Shouta shakes his head.

“I can call him right now, if you’re worried. He’s on his way to the radio station but since you’re coming home with me now, he’ll want to be there anyway.”

“He can’t cancel his show for me!”

“Kid, he cancels his shows all the damn time, that’s just the risk of being a teacher and a pro hero. It happened before and it will happen again and he won’t mind at all, I can promise you that.”

“I don’t—he’ll be mad.”

“He won’t be,” Shouta gives back and then takes the decision out of Shinsou’s hands, because he has no idea just how excited Hizashi will be.

Shouta gets his phone out and presses the speed dial before Shinsou can even think to protest and it takes Hizashi less than three rings to accept the call.

“Shou? Everything alright?” he greets him with, his voice tinny because he’s clearly still driving and Shouta can just picture him balancing the phone on his thigh.

“Shinsou is coming home with me today,” Shouta plainly states and feels how Shinsou tenses against him.

“Finally,” Hizashi breathes out, the relief so stark in his voice that there’s no way Shinsou can miss it. “He finally asked for help?”

“More like Aizawa-sensei cornered me,” Shinsou speaks up and Shouta pats his head.

His hair really is soft. Maybe he’ll have to do it again, and often at that, he decides when he notices how Shinsou leans into the contact.

“Hey, there, little listener, how are you doing?”

“Have been better,” Shinsou admits between sniffles.

“He figured out that we’re married,” Shouta tells Hizashi because he’s still very proud of him for that and it makes Hizashi laugh.

“Yeah, if anyone would, it’s him. I told you he’s smart.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shouta sighs out when Shinsou ducks his head in embarrassment at hearing that. “You coming home?”

“Of course I am! I’ll bring take out, what are you in the mood for?”

“Can you drive to that diner next to the cat café? The staff knows our orders, and you like their food as well,” Shouta suggests, because he thinks it might be a bit much, forcing Shinsou to think about anything right now and Shouta has taken him there enough times after training to know that the kid likes the food there.

“Sure. I’ll also call Tsukauchi, to get the ball rolling. Shinsou, kiddo, you’re safe now and I’m very proud of you for letting yourself get cornered.”

It prompts a new sob from Shinsou and Shouta decides it’s much more important to hug him close again than to say goodbye to his husband, so he simply hangs up and throws the phone down, so he can better gather Shinsou up in his arms.

“We’ve got you now, kid, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

He doesn’t expect Shinsou to respond, not really, because clearly the kid has other worries right now—mainly breathing—but he still speaks up.

“I trust you.”

Shouta wasn’t prepared for the way that simple statements makes him feel warm all over but he’s beyond glad that it’s the case.

And he and Hizashi will make very sure to never do anything to make Shinsou regret that decision.

#bt writes #erasermic #bnha #mha #shinsou hitoshi #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #erasermic adopt shinsou hitoshi #hurt/comfort #married erasermic #tw: implied/referenced child abuse #shinsou hitoshi needs a hug

102 notes · View notes

vxxcte · 14 days ago

Text

Extremely long rant on 001 & 457:

3.4k+ words

—

Intro

Yesterday I finished season 2 of Squid Game. I have so much to say about In-ho’s and Gi-hun’s dynamics and writing.

Keep in mind this is my interpretation of these characters and their dynamics, and some of that is speculation. I’m just yapping because I have a lot to say. Maybe this takes on a much more optimistic view than is actually the case, but I fear it makes sense to me.

I have seen two takes about 457 around pretty often:

“They’re in love.” or:

“In-ho feeds off of Gi-hun’s pain because he’s just an evil guy.”

These can both be true in a way, but when no one talks about the little details of the character writing and the relationship between these two guys, it feels like the incredible potential and writing that this duo has is being overlooked.

Note, I will be referring to this Youtube video throughout this post:

youtube

Now let’s start with what we know already. It’s pretty evident that In-ho is not totally emotionless like many people are trying to imply or interpret him as.

Here’s why.

—

Hwang In-Ho and The Traitor Archetype

There are two ways in which a character like 001 can be portrayed.

TYPE 1 : The undercover ‘friend’ who is working against the main character can be shown to the audience as the ordinary cast member, and then it will be a plot twist when the protagonist learns with the audience the truth of this character. Usually the demeanor of this undercover ‘ally’ is not shown too obviously because it might take away from the impact of the plot twist later.

TYPE 2 : or You can go down the route that Squid Game did go. We knew Frontman’s face, so it was no use trying to convince us he was a good guy. His personality was not exaggerated like some Type 1 characters can be. Characters like this are not particularly hidden from the audience’s suspicion/accusation because we already know. And in these cases, the writers do not often need to give these characters disguise-personalities. In Squid Game, we as an audience know where to look for the cracks in In-ho’s character, where the ways in which his real identity shows through.

There was that time he killed someone in front of Jung-bae. It would have been out of nowhere for a story where they hadn’t shown his identity before, but we knew exactly what was going on. So let’s look at the instances before it was shown directly to other characters.

Here are the instances where we know for sure that his real self is slipping through.

In-ho more than once asks people questions and engages with them in a manner that might not come across as too strange to them. But to the audience, those who know he is an outsider, and thus know to pay attention to the possible intent behind his every word, it stands out.

In-ho engages with the people who are truly inside the game as specimens to observe. That’s partly why he’s there, after all. For example, take the instance during the Mingle game where he questioned Geum-ja about her son’s character. He doesn’t need to hide his sort of objective, detached curiosity (which extends slightly outside Gi-hun), about these people and how they work, because no one is keeping an eye out for it.

Because of this, I believe he did not need to make any extra efforts to mask his natural personality, beyond the bare necessary minimum.

—

In-ho’s Humor

Another reason I think that him not faking his personality a good amount of the time is his humor. The jokes and the ideas for jokes that one comes up with is very telling of their inner processes and their ability to make connections between things. These also provide an insight as to what they themselves find funny, or what they think others around them will find funny/react to.

First the joke he made about Gi-hun’s last name, and then about Jun-hee’s child as a sixth member in the Mingle game, both display a sort of consistent sense of dad joke type of humor. It is hard to fake humor that you are not well-versed in, and even harder if you put yourself in an unfamiliar environment with little preparation, purely to observe people.

Considering the fact that In-ho is evidently still in the process of observing these people up close as people rather than players, it would have been difficult to first think of a joke that they would enjoy and then deliver it successfully.

He could have gone without. He characterized himself in the others’ eyes well enough to go without making these jokes. It’s not like he was putting on any false performance for us, the audience (as noted above), and he was only omitting certain information from the other characters. There should be nothing ulterior that motivates him to go further and come up with a new/different sense of humor.

This leads me (personally) to read these interactions as genuine. These were jokes he thought of and spoke aloud, not to fool Gi-hun and the others, but because they naturally came to his mind and he decided to share them.

And villain-type character as he is now, he is still a person.

—

In-ho and his Family

There are other moments we saw from him that were genuine.

There was the information we got from his mother and Jun-ho, how he gave his brother his kidney and how his wife died.

Then In-ho lost his composure when Thanos told him to lecture his own kid. This was not an act—It would have been entirely unnecessary if he wanted everyone to believe he was a nice guy capable of little harm. This was genuine from him, he lost control and it was reasonable and it was real.

So when he told Gi-hun about his wife and unborn child that he is supposedly now in the games for, the things we have seen so far also point to that scene being a genuine interaction from him. His expressions did not hide it either.

And if all of that is not enough, he did not kill his brother. He sent Captain Park to find Jun-ho. In-ho put his brother, who knew exactly who Frontman is now, who now has something to work with, over his whole operation—It wouldn’t be too large a reach to say this.

Hwang In-ho is Not Without Emotion

Now we’ve subverted the whole idea of In-ho being some emotionless monster that some people online want to say he is. He may lack morals but he does not lack personality/emotion.

I didn’t even get into the way he cheered in the 5-minigame rounds or the way the first thing he did when he found Gi-hun in the Games was knowingly shit-talk him to his face, but I already have this much. This is all my evidence for In-ho being very and incredibly human, my case for him having a defined personality, fake player aside.

This is almost all sourced from lines in the show, rather than just visual acting which can be interpreted multiple ways. Thus every bit of the things I talked about is likely intentional.

Justice for my queen In-ho he is a great character and I enjoy him and his writing a LOT.

—

457 Introduction

I like to call 457 toxic yaoi as much as the next guy, but it’s so much more than just the visible tension/chemistry between them. It’s more than enmity, it’s more than friendship and it’s more than romance too. Why stick labels on it when it’s so much more complicated?

Although on that note, before I get into the deeper stuff I just want to point out that all this staring at each other’s lips and whatnot was probably not something the actors decided to throw in on their own, considering the ‘I don’t understand it but it’s not unpleasant’ comment about the ship from Lee Byung-hun. So was it scripted for them to be doing allat? Lord knows, we’ll find out in June (fitting).

I am not even getting into how In-ho spoke to Gi-hun without his mask on and let him hear his real voice when Gi-hun won his first set of Games. There is something that has the potential to be very intimate about that.

And then there’s the little storytelling bit of how Gi-hun’s stubbornness reminds In-ho of his dead wife, and then how that exact determination was what wavered in Gi-hun at the end.

—

Pre-Games 2024

Let’s start with the limo dialogues, when In-ho told Gi-hun he wished he would’ve led a happy life.

He has no reason to wish Gi-hun ill, especially after Gi-hun won the games and left. In-ho likely saw himself in Gi-hun even back when Gi-hun won, and genuinely did wish him the happy life that In-ho himself did not end up having.

And how many people like Gi-hun has In-ho seen? Ever?

What kind of person does Gi-hun have to be, how notable in In-ho’s eyes does he have to be, for the person that administrates the Games to show himself to the person who wants to end them?

Gi-hun survived the Games without directly causing anyone’s death. In this place that tries to bring out the worst in anyone, even when Gi-hun fucked up in the marble game, he regretted it and turned back. This already sets him apart from anyone else, and especially sets him apart from In-ho, who took the darker road and climbed up the system.

You could say, ‘But other people have regretted their actions in the Games.’ But how many people get 45.6 billion won over 455 people’s deaths, and then come back, not for money, but to prevent further death? And how many people come back and become the Front Man?

Gi-hun went back with all that money to find his mom dead, presumably in a similar way to how In-ho went back with all the money he won but his wife died anyway.

There is a system that crushes people under it, In-ho realizes somewhere down the line, and then there is a way to remove those people. Gi-hun sees it another way: change the system.

—

Friends

Both of these people came into the Games for the sake of their loved ones. One came out of the process corrupt, and one returned determined to root out the corruption.

This year, aside from In-ho, there are 454 other people in this year’s Games that he does not know or necessarily care about. And then there is Gi-hun.

He knows Gi-hun. In-ho is a previous winner, just like Gi-hun, he is returning to the game for Gi-hun just as Gi-hun returned for In-ho. In-ho sees Gi-hun as more worthy of his time than anyone else. And all of this comes dangerously close to seeing Gi-hun as an equal, someone he has attached his narrative to, more than anyone else around.

And I think this opens up the possibility that In-ho could have come to see Gi-hun as a friend in some moments. There were moments in the games where he was a little too enthusiastic about their own wins for someone who does not need to put on a fully fake persona (and there was the instance with the soju which I get into later).

So surely there could have been moments where In-ho genuinely considered Gi-hun a friend, however short-lived the moments were, however foreign the concept of a friend has become to him.

I don’t mean this in the sense that there are full-fledged periods of time where In-ho is seeing Gi-hun as a friend, or that In-ho was spending any amounts of time being genuinely immersed as his persona. That feels like a stretch.

But you know when you dislike someone that you’re talking to? And in the moment, the awareness of your dislike fades for a bit, and you’re about to laugh at something they said. And then that’s when you realize you’re not actually supposed to be finding anything they say funny? You’re not supposed to actually fw them? This is what I mean by ‘moments In-ho might have seen Gi-hun as a friend.’

The difference between the example scenario (closest I could get) and what I think might be the case with In-ho is that in In-ho’s case, it is not purely borne out of dislike. Rather, it likely just occurs to him who he actually is now, reminds him that it’s not 2015. It reminds him why he’s actually in the Games this round, and that automatically can serve to detach him.

It can be difficult for a genuine person to consistently have an enjoyable person around people they have to fake their personality around, for one. And for another, he is the one who’s killing almost everyone here.

This part is, of course, more speculation and yapping compared to the rest of the post, which I actually tried to support with some form of logic or evidence. But I need to yap about all my speculations (This post is not purely analysis, as I mentioned at the start), and I think this take helps make better sense of the other instances with In-ho’s character that I’ve mentioned.

And this could be what In-ho’s ‘conflicted feelings’ about Gi-hun (from the video linked up top) are all about.

—

How In-ho Sees Gi-Hun

Gi-hun refuses to remain powerless. He acts for change, refuses to give himself over to the system like In-ho has. He doesn’t shut up and take the money he’s given. He keeps fighting to end the Games, for other people who are caught in it.

And this does not make sense to In-ho. We don’t know enough about him. Maybe he tried this exact same thing that Gi-hun is trying. Or maybe he never did, and became who he is without putting up a proper fight.

This is someone who, so far, has remained unbending in his goal for change. This is someone who, in a facility designed to make people prioritize their own survival, gave a man he barely knew for 3 days a magazine, while he himself was getting shot at, while ammo was short.

In-ho lies to Gi-hun about his name, but he tells him about his wife. He bares an old part of his soul to him, the part of it that lingers from back when he was like Gi-hun. He has seen immeasurable death and has caused it, but there was a time he might have wanted to stop it too, and now there is someone like that again.

In-ho bared a part of himself to the person who came here to take him down because he saw his old self in him. And in turn that person did something In-ho never would’ve done at this point in time—Gi-hun extended this seemingly-pointless goodness to him too.

I like to think In-ho was so interested in Gi-hun because he wanted to see how he himself might've become, had he only taken a different view of life.

In-ho might deep down be expecting him to fail, yes, but he roots for him, roots for a version of himself that never made it. He’s curious. Lee Byung-hun has said In-ho is conflicted about his feelings towards Gi-hun, and secretly might even root for him (see the link at the bottom of this post).

In-ho stares at Gi-hun so intently to try and understand him as best he can. He wants to know what’s going on in Gi-hun’s head, the changes someone undergoes in short periods of time in enclosed death game facilities, a new experiment in the head of someone who is returning a second time. How will Gi-hun hold up? He wants to see his future.

—

The Breaking of Gi-hun’s Resolve (or the Changing)

Gi-hun loses the plot.

He couldn’t save everyone at first like he intended, he couldn’t get out fast because they got his tracker, and his resolve weakens, and he deems it necessary to sacrifice some people for the greater good.

When Gi-hun realizes he can’t save everyone, when he trades in an unnumbered amount of people for a shot to end the whole system, and he gives in.

Maybe In-ho sees himself in that weakening of Gi-hun’s resolve. It’s possible he doesn’t like it because he genuinely wanted Gi-hun to remain unwavering, as Lee Byung-hun said In-ho rooted for him. Or maybe In-ho does like it, because he’s satisfied for the confirmation that his view was right, that his path was inevitable all along.

This could be another point of conflict for In-ho’s feelings towards Gi-hun. Maybe that’s why he decided to fake the death of Young-il right then and put a stop to that operation: Of course, it’s partly because he’s Frontman and he can’t let the Games end. But on another hand, the coup was failing anyway, even without his betrayal and return as Frontman.

This then brings to light the possibility that he decided that, because Gi-hun gave in, In-ho decided he’s seen enough from by Gi-hun’s side. It confirmed something for him, confirmed that Gi-hun’s failure was inevitable because of human nature. And that was enough observing from up-close.

But then that confirmation, Gi-hun’s reluctant admission to the need of collateral, is thrown into question again, only a couple of hours later, when In-ho meets up with Gi-hun and Jung-bae. Gi-hun gives In-ho a magazine when ammo is short, and even when In-ho asks him, “Are you sure?” Gi-hun insists.

Sure, Gi-hun traded all those lives for this opportunity, but he is willing to risk lessening his own chance for survival for the sake of his friends, too.

—

“Are you sure?”

Then there is the question: Why did In-ho ask Gi-hun if he was sure about giving him the magazine?

Why would he provide the opportunity to think again on this? It wouldn’t benefit him at all if Gi-hun were to take the magazine back—Not that Gi-hun would. Gi-hun doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, especially not in situations like this, and this even In-ho should know.

It could be a final test of Gi-hun’s character. Or it could be that this is one of those moments where In-ho genuinely saw Gi-hun as a friend.

Lee Byung-hun has said (from the video) that In-ho’s character was a very nuanced and detailed one that he had to be very careful portraying. That look on In-ho’s face when Gi-hun gave him that magazine was not any error on the actor’s end. It did mean something to In-ho, whatever it may have meant.

—

Jung-bae, Gi-hun, In-ho, and soju

I’m gonna get into the technicalities of exactly what In-ho’s motivations were in taking this specific bit of Gi-hun’s and Jung-bae’s conversation and using it with Gi-hun later.

I don’t entirely disagree when others call it jealousy, but it feels unfitting to arrive at that conclusion with no further thought. So here’s how I see it.

When Gi-hun and Jung-bae were talking about going out for soju, In-ho was eavesdropping. Then later, In-ho tells Gi-hun later to go out for soju together someday.

If In-ho really intended the unfulfilment of the shared plan between Gi-hun and himself to devastate, this was not an ideal or necessary move, and I’m sure he knows that. And I’ve covered earlier, to my interpretation he does not bother to act like someone he is not unnecessarily.

It would’ve been smarter if he had his own conversation about future plans with Gi-hun, instead of leeching off the soju date idea that Gi-hun already planned with Jung-bae.

In-ho probably did plan on killing Jung-bae at that point, be it eventually or through the later Games, because he probably does not really care about anyone besides Gi-hun enough to spare them, or even just as much as he might care about Gi-hun (not necessarily platonically or romantically, maybe, but in terms of overall investment). And maybe he intended to use Jung-bae’s, and Young-il’s, death as another test of Gi-hun’s character.

But In-ho/Young-il’s ‘death,’ objectively and inevitably, means less to Gi-hun than the death of his best friend. This is not to say that Gi-hun subconsciously measures the weights or grief values of these deaths, obviously. It is just to say that he has known In-ho for only a couple days and it is bound to impact him less, just like how Ali’s death did not hit him quite as hard as Sang-woo’s did.

(Admittedly, season 1 did have a lot less focus on character relationships than season 2 does, but it wasn’t so little that a lot would’ve changed in Gi-hun’s reactions either way).

This, combined with the order and intensity of events in the last episode, most likely means that Jung-bae’s death overshadows In-ho’s ‘death’ in Gi-Hun’s mind.

And this would be obvious. So what purpose does ‘You can treat me with a glass of soju when we get out’ even serve? It’s not going to affect Gi-hun in the long run as much as Jung-bae would.

Gi-hun had a much-needed conversation with his good friend and their plan to get soju was borne of reminiscence of their shared past and desire to make it out. But when In-ho brought it up, it was done in an offhand manner in a two-sentence exchange. This is impossible to happen anyway and In-ho knows it.

If he wanted Gi-hun’s full investment in a plan to go out together, maybe for the purpose of hurting/testing him with it, surely he would’ve done something more than this. He knew it wouldn’t stick as well. So then why did he say it? What purpose would this actually serve?

If, even after all this, In-ho he thought that this soju appointment would affect Gi-hun as much as Jung-bae’s might have, then I might say jealousy nurses delusion.

Or maybe it was something genuine. Maybe that moment, when Gi-hun thanked him for saving his life and In-ho said ‘You can get me a glass of soju when we get out,’ maybe that was another one of those short-lived moments in which In-ho did see Gi-hun as something like a friend.

—

Conclusion

Because of the fact that he is more genuine than one might originally guess (according to my interpretation), I would like to say that he did consider Gi-hun a friend sometimes.

And their dynamic is just so fascinating to me. Likely the first I’ve ever seen of this kind.

They’re in love, they hate each other, they’re friends, they’re opposites.

They’re the first person the other looks for upon separation, they’re trying to put a stop to the other’s plans, they’re good friends.

They’re representations of the roads the other didn’t take, they’re mirrors, they lean into each other more than necessary even when cuffed together, In-ho finds the pieces of humanity he lost in Gi-hun, they’re foils, they were friends.

I won’t be recovering for a while.

53 notes · View notes