#it was the first test of the year and I wasn’t familiar with the format yet and I didn’t know yet how to study for that class and what I

[x-ladydisdain-x]

I’ve been telling myself it’s okay to have gotten that one B last year fall semester that it was still a pretty high B and that it was an AP class but now I’m staring at my gpa and thinking about how I’ll never have a perfect unweighted 4.0 ever again

[tsyvia48]

Genesis 22, Good Omens style

Avraham was nervous. God had sent angels to speak with him before, but never this many. And the one in the center was frightening. He seemed to be in charge, but from his posture to his eyes—the color of a wine stain—there was nothing kind or welcoming about him.

Avraham’s eyes moved from face to face. None of them were kind and welcoming. They looked…bored? But wait, there near the back was Israfel. They met eyes and smiled at one another. Avraham hadn’t seen him since that hot day in Mamre. He’d been the only one of the three who actually ate of the cakes Sarah had labored over. Israfel had enjoyed the food heartily, and it had brought comfort to Sarah.

Avraham relaxed. If Israfel was here, surely all was well.

“Avraham” boomed the head angel with the wine-stain eyes and the sharp jaw line.

Avraham looked around. They’d been standing there for quite a long moment. Avraham was the only human there, but the angel said it as if he was commanding attention. “Here I am” replied Avraham. It was the correct answer to the divine call of one’s name.

Continues after the break.

“Take your son,” the angel continued.

“My lord, I have two sons.”

The angel looked at him, seemingly for the first time. “Your favorite one”

“Begging your pardon, my lord, I do not have a favorite,”

The angel looked a bit annoyed. Avraham tried to find Israfel’s eyes in the assembled. Israfel was looking down and wringing his hands.

“The one that you love, then,” said the angel, frustrated, looking at his companions with indignation.

Before Avraham could protest, Israfel shuffled meekly to the head angel and whispered in his ear.

“Yitzak!” Said the frightening angel as Israfel returned to his place at the back of the small formation.

Avraham nodded.

“Go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the heights that God will point out to you.”

A burnt offering? Yitzak? Surely this was a mistake. God had never requested human sacrifice. Never. Avraham searched their faces. There was nothing there but cold indifference. His eyes found Israfel who averted his gaze. Avraham thought he saw tears in Israfel’s eyes.

“It is a test.” The center Angel declared. The others broke out in polite applause.

Avraham choked back a sob.

x

Aziraphale paces in the Judean night. He mutters softly to himself. “Surely Gabriel misunderstood the Almighty. Human sacrifice?”

“Alright, Aziraphale?” growls a familiar voice.

Aziraphale spins quickly, surprise and relief on his face. “Crawly! Oh, dear. You’re here. Tell me, do you know Avraham?”

“Hmm, I do. I convinced him to tell people his wife was his sister,” the demon grins. “Twice, actually.”

“You what?” The Angel stares in disbelief.

“Well, I -“

Aziraphale cuts him off. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter, look, Gabriel’s delivered a ‘test.’ Avraham is meant to offer his son as a burnt offering.”

“Ngk.” Crawly scoffs. “It wasn’t enough to send my side to kill Job’s kids. Now She’s making them do it themselves?”

“Oh, I don’t think She wants the boy killed. I can’t believe that.”

The demon looks at him, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “I mean,” Aziraphale stammers, “I’m sure She told the host to test Avraham. Part of the ineffable plan…” he falters… “oh, Crawly, I feel just awful about it. I was the one who blessed Sarah so she could have a baby at all! She was 90 years old!” The angel meets the demon’s eyes, forehead creased in worry, “I’m supposed to accompany Avraham to Moriah. And report back on the results of the test,” the angel wrings his hands.

The demon purses his lips. “I could come along and try to thwart you, I suppose,” he says nonchalantly, looking away from Aziraphale to punctuate his indifference.

“Oh, would you?!” Aziraphale smiles, starts to reach for the other’s hand, thinks better of it, and clasps his own hands together.

“I’m a demon,” Crawly says, shrugging and suppressing a smile, “it’s what I do.”

“Quite right,” Aziraphale beamed. “Avraham will be taking two servants on the journey to Moriah. We leave in the morning.”

“Right,” says Crawly, looking around. “I’ll disguise myself. Not sure old Avi will be glad to see me again. Shall I be Bildad the Shuhite, once more?”

“Oh, yes!” Aziraphale beamed. “I quite liked Bildad.”

“Good. That’s settled, then.” With a wave of his hand, Crawly conjures a small campfire and settles himself on a small boulder, which conveniently scoots itself near the fire. “Might as well get comfortable.” He gestures for the angel to sit on a miraculously placed second rock. “I trust you don’t mind if I have some wine,” the demon is pouring wine from ceramic jug into ceramic cup, neither of which were there moments ago. When the cup is full, he sets the jug down near his feet, between himself and his companion.

“Would you like a taste?” the demon quickly glances at the angel who sits on his rock, straight-backed.

Aziraphale looks at the cup in Crawly’s hands. His own hands are clasped tightly together in his lap. He doesn’t answer.

“In my opinion, it’s better than ox meat” the demon says quietly, not looking at Aziraphale as he takes a small sip. The angel makes a barely audible “oh” and Crawly tries not to smile. He slouches into his rock, robes pooling around him, and sips again, rather more audibly than is strictly necessary. He smacks his lips in satisfaction.

“Surely it wouldn’t hurt to taste it,” the angel says quietly, “to know what the fuss is about.”

“Surely,” Crawly repeats back, seriously. “It is your job to understand humans, isn’t it, Principality?”

“Quite right,” Aziraphale nods. His face quickly clouds. “You aren’t tempting me are you?”

“Aziraphale, we’ve established angels can’t be tempted, haven’t we?” Crawly is already pouring wine into a newly-formed second cup. He holds it out to his companion. “You’re doing your job. You’re understanding humans and their experience, so you can better serve Heaven…as far as you can.”

Crawly doesn’t wink as Aziraphale tentatively reaches for the cup.

“Well, just one cup. To know what it’s about.”

“Of course,” says the demon, “just one.”

Several hours later, the fire is mostly embers. Angel and demon share conversation and silence by turns.

“What’s with the name change?” Crawly asks, apropos of nothing. “I thought Avram was a fine name.”

“Oh that!” The Angel brightens, “that was my idea, actually. I thought a new name would help really convey the new relationship between the human and the almighty.”

“But it’s so close? Why bother with such a small change?”

“My dear Crawly, sometimes the small changes are the most profound, don’t you think? It was the almighty Herself who suggested adding a letter from her NAME for Avram and Sarai’s new names. I thought that was delightfully clever.” Aziraphale wiggles happily and looks into his cup, which should have been empty hours ago, given all that he’d drunk. Finding it still half full he smiles into it and takes another sip.

Crawly brows knit together. “What did you say just then?”

“What, that the almighty is delightfully clever?”

“No, no, before that. Something about small changes.”

“Hmm, yes. Small changes can be the most profound.” Aziraphale takes another sip of his wine. “This is quite pleasant,” he says, pointing to the cup. “I don’t know why I was so averse to it.”

Crawly doesn’t respond. He is now sitting on the ground, using his rock as a backrest, and sprawling in impossible angles. His foot waves absently.

“I say, Crawly. Are you listening?”

“What? Oh.” Crawly refocuses his reptilian eyes on the decidedly tipsy Angel. “Of course I’m listening. This is Pleasant. You are Averse.”

As the sky lightens, Crawly sobers up. Aziraphale watches with bleary eyes and, after one failed attempt (and a rather loud passing of wind), the angel manages to expel the wine from his corporation.

x

With the breaking of dawn, Avraham saddles his ass and takes with him two of his servants and his son Yitzak. He splits the wood for the burnt offering, and he sets out for the place of which God had told him.

They set out in two pairs, Avraham and Yitzak flanking the donkey and Aziraphale and Bildad following behind. Yitzak tires after several hours of walking. He’s only a boy, after all, and not used to this kind of exertion. Bildad offers to carry some of the donkey’s pack so Yitzak can ride. Avraham looks at him with gratitude as the redhead shoulders a heavy pack. When Yitzak falls asleep in the saddle, Bildad helps Avraham tie the boy into his perch so he won’t fall out and get hurt. They walk on either side of the beast keeping an eye on the sleeping figure as it sways above them. Their talk about goats and sheep eventually turns to Avraham’s sons. Bildad smiles as Avraham tells stories about the boys making one another laugh and generally making mischief. Aziraphale walks quietly behind, smiling to himself.

In the evening, after Yitzak and Avraham are asleep, Aziraphale and Bildad sit by the fire and drink wine.

As the night drags on, Bildad sinks lower and lower in his slouch until he’s lying on his back looking up at the sky. Aziraphale glances over at him and then up at the night’s sky.

“They are beautiful from here.”

“Hmm? Wassat?” Crowley rolls his head drunkenly toward the angel.

“The stars,” Aziraphale says, pointing and looking up, “they’re beautiful.

“Are they?” Bildad asks, wistfully.

“Well, look at them!” Aziraphale replies, breathless, “they’re gorgeous.”

“Tell me,” Bildad turns all of his attention on Aziraphale. “Tell me, Angel? Please?” His voice is quiet, wistful.

Aziraphale stares back, incredulous. Bildad looks expectantly over the rims of the dark glasses. Aziraphale meets that golden gaze and his breath catches. “You can’t…you haven’t…all this time” he whispers, trails off, looks up at the sky and back to Bildad.

Bildad waits, watching, inebriated but patient.

“Well, I…” Aziraphale looks away from Bildad’s face again and lies back, fully prone. He discreetly wipes away tears. “There are so many of them.” He starts. Bildad settles back down, face toward the stars he cannot see. “From here they appear as white lights, twinkling and sparkling. They are pin pricks in the darkest black,” Aziraphale points, “right now I can see the Milky Way just there, and the Argo Nevis skimming along it.”

Bildad smiles and sighs. He closes his eyes and listens as the angel describes the constellations.

x

The second day of travel, Aziraphale and Avraham walk together talking quietly as Bildad and Yitzak walk ahead with the donkey, playing games and laughing.

“Surely God doesn’t want me to actually hurt him,” Avraham whispers so only Aziraphale can hear.

“Yes, well. It is not for me to know what God wants,” Aziraphale whispers back. “This is meant to be a test, but be not afraid.”

“Be not afraid? I’m afraid, Israfel. I’m very afraid,” Avraham’s whisper edges toward anger. Bildad looks back at them and quickly looks away.

“Shh,” Aziraphale places one hand on the patriarch’s arm. “It’s a test, and surely there is more than one way to pass a test. We will figure something out.”

Avraham allows himself to be placated. Israfel has that effect. He doesn’t know how this will be alright, but he trusts that the angel doesn’t want to hurt him or his son.

The afternoon is spent in silence, all four travelers tired and lost in thought.

x

On the third day, Aziraphale hears the heavenly trumpet and sees a beam of light streak on to a mountain in the near distance. He points it out to Avraham who looks up and sees the place from afar. Avraham sighs, frowning.

“You stay here with the donkey,” he says to Bildad and Aziraphale. “The boy and I will go up there. We will worship and we will return to you.”

Avraham takes the wood for the burnt offering and gives it to his son Yitzak to carry. He himself takes the firestone and the knife; and the two walk off together.

Before they’ve walked more than five paces, Yitzak says to his father Avraham, “Father!” And he answers, “Yes, my son.” And he says, “Here are the firestone and the wood; but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”

Avraham looks back toward the two man-shaped beings with the donkey. He finds Aziraphale’s eyes as he replies, “It is God who will see to the sheep for this burnt offering, my son.” And the two of them walk on together.

Aziraphale and Bildad tie the donkey to a tree, and follow father and son. They blink themselves further up the mountain. They watch the two approach, careful to remain unseen.

“So the test is whether or not Avraham is willing to kill his kid, right? It’s about the intention, not the, um, execution?” Bildad cringes at the pun, his attention fixed on the two figures walking up the side of the mountain.

“Well…that is to say…the instructions were less than explicit” Aziraphale replies. “But, yes, one could argue, that it is the intention, the willingness, that is being tested.”

“Hmmngh” Bildad scoffs.

Between the humans and their watchers, a shaft of sunlight illuminates a spot in Avraham’s path. Avraham builds an altar there. He lays out the wood. Crying, he binds his son, Yitzak.

“Father, what are you doing?” Yitzak’s eyes are big with confusion as fear creeps in, but he does not resist his father’s hands.

“May God forgive me,” Avraham whispers as he lifts his son and lays him on the altar, on top of the wood.

With tear stains on his dusty face, Avraham picks up the knife to slay his son.

“Surely he’s passed the test!” Bildad hisses at his companion with urgency bordering on desperation, “Stop him, Angel!”

“He’ll need a substitute offering,” Aziraphale spits it out quickly and strides toward Avraham, hand outstretched “Avraham! Avraham!” He calls out.

“Here I am!” Avraham cries with relief.

With a wave of Bildad’s hand, a ram appears. As it wheels in confusion, its horns catch in a thicket. Its nostrils flare and its eyes widen with fear.

Bildad places a hand on the animal’s head. “You don’t deserve this,” he says, “I can’t save you, but I can make sure you don’t die afraid.” The animal’s breath settles. Bildad slinks away, hiding behind an outcropping of rock.

Below him Aziraphale is radiating a full body halo. He’s turned on all the theatrics.

“Do not raise your hand against the boy, or do anything to him. For now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your favored one, from Me.”

Avraham backs away from his son who stares in disbelief at the knife. They make eye contact, and Avraham knows he and Yitzak will never be the same. He looks down, away from his son, and resists the urge to curse God.

When Avraham looks up, his eye fall upon a ram, caught in the thicket by its horns. So Avraham goes and takes the ram and offers it up as a burnt offering in place of his son.

Inspired in part by this post about the significance of Crowley’s name.

[aerael-a]

          𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀  𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒  𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐕��𝐋𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀  𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒  ;    he  almost  melts  at  the  way  Oikawa  takes  control,  the  way  his  voice  echoed  around  them  all.  It  felt  powerful,  commanding,  trustworthy.  He  tried  not  to  flinch  when  all  eyes  shifted  to  look  at  him  for  a  split  second  as  Tooru  mentioned  his  being  the  captain.  It  was  truly  for  the  best  in  Wakatoshi’s  opinion.  He  wasn’t  a  good  leader,  but  Tooru  was.  

            As  the  players  circled  around  Tooru  like  moths  to  a  flame,  Wakatoshi  remained  behind.  While  he  was  the  vice  captain  by  default,  he  knew  the  one  Oikawa  wanted  by  his  side  was  Iwaizumi.  Not  him,  and  so  he  let  the  other  player  remain  next  to  Tooru.  Staying  back  and  away  as  he  knew  Tooru  wanted.  He  averted  his  eyes  to  the  ground  once  Tooru’s  voice  spoke  those  words.  He  wanted  to  so  badly  believe  that  he  was  included  into  that  ━━  that  Tooru  believed  him,  put  his  faith  in  him  ━━  but  it  was  unlikely.  Oikawa  hated  him,  not  that  Ushijima  could  really  blame  him  when  his  own  mother  hated  him  too.  

            Perhaps  it  was  bad  the  he  zoned  out  during  Oikawa’s  assessment  of  his  team,  but  Wakatoshi  knew  their  playing  styles  by  heart,  knew  them  better  than  he  knew  himself.  He  didn’t  need  to  hear  what  he  already  knew  ━  his  team  was  strong,  their  stats  near  perfect.  He  zoned  back  in  as  the  captain  assigned  teams  for  the  practice.  They'd  be  having  matches,  three  on  three,  rotating  formations  to  test  the  synergy  between  players.  He  was  glad  they  put  him  on  a  team  with  Semi,  a  little  familiarity  would  do  him  good.  He  didn’t  know  the  other  member  well,  he  was  from  Aoba  Johsai  ,  and  probably  one  of  the  first  years  too  ━  if  he  wasn’t  mistaken,  that  was  Yutaro  Kindaichi.  

            A  setter,  a  middle  blocker  and  an  opposite  hitter.  An  interesting  team  dynamic,  but  Oikawa  probably  wanted  to  test  their  abilities,  and  Ushijima  wouldn’t  disappoint,  he  knew  his  team  wouldn’t  either.  He  allowed  Semi  to  do  the  talking,  sinking  into  his  game  mindset.  And  once  the  matches  really  started,  Wakatoshi  finally  stopped  thinking.  Playing  volleyball  to  him  was  a  way  to  shut  his  brain  off  ━━  to  stop  worrying  about  what  his  mother  would  think,  whether  his  father  still  cared  about  him  at  all,  how  his  sister  was,  or  how  much  he  was  hated  by  the  boy  he  liked.  He  could  just  be  Shiratorizawa’s  Ace,  his  only  thought  was  to  score.  

            Despite  being  so  focused,  he  could  see  that  the  Aoba  Johsai  members  were  rather  excited  to  play  with  him  and  by  extension  his  team.  Even  if  they  lost  to  him,  there  were  still  so  lively.  Wakatoshi  remained  victorious  throughout  the  whole  practice,  the  team  he  was  on  always  winning  no  matter  the  formation.  By  the  end  of  it,  there  were  people  making  bets  on  who  was  finally  going  to  defeat  him  over  the  course  of  their  time  together.  Reluctantly,  Ushijima  approached  Oikawa  once  practice  was  over.  The  hadn’t  played  against  each  other  that  day,  and  he  was  thankful  for  it.  He  didn’t  want  Oikawa  to  hate  him  even  more.    ❛        Oikawa,        ❜    he  said,  sounding  a  bit  more  tired  than  he  actually  physically  felt.  ❛        I  will  stay  behind  for  cleaning  duty,  is  there  anything  you  want  me  to  prepare  for  practice  tomorrow?        ❜

Tooru does not grace him with a reply nor does he cast a final glance at the other male. He doesn’t want to waste any more time here. He keeps his back to Ushijima and swiftly walks out through the opposite exit, his ahoge bouncing rapidly at the top of his head from the force of his steps. As captain, he should be present at all times during their training, but he really needs to catch a breather and see if he can find his favourite food. It won’t do either teams any good if he can’t lead them with a clear head. The setter walks aimlessly through Shiratorizawa’s long halls, looking this way and that for the school’s store. When he does come across it, he only finds things like yakisoba pan and melon pan, not milk bread. He sighs heavily and leans against the wall, ignoring all the weird looks students walking by give him. He knows he sticks out like a sore thumb because he’s not wearing Shiratorizawa’s school uniform. Tooru stays there for a moment before pushing himself off the wall to find the nearest washroom.

By the time he returns, Tooru could see that Ushijima has kept his word and got the team started with the warm ups already. Chocolate hues flicker up to meet green and he simply gives a short nod, indicating his satisfaction of the tasks that’s been carried out and merely waits for the rest of the team to come to Ushijima’s call. If anyone notices the slight redness at the corners of his eyes, no one says a word. Tooru can see Hajime staring intently at him and he averts his gaze from those sharp eyes. Of course his best friend would know why. Tooru steps up to the front and stands before all of the players. He speaks with confidence and clarity, his voice projecting in a way that commands for every person’s attention. “I’m sure most of you already know who I am, but as a formality, I am Oikawa and I will be the one leading this team.” As expected, he’s faced with the incredulous looks and raised brows of the Shiratorizawa players, who begin looking between both him and Ushijima. There’s surprise coming from his own team as well. “I will do whatever it takes for us to take victory against the coaches’ team by the end of this challenge. Mina-san, gather around so I can go over everyone’s positions so we’re all familiar with each other’s playing styles.”

When players start circling around him, Hajime stands closest to his side. It’s reassuring to have his vice captain right beside him. Tooru pulls out his crinkled players and begins to read off from them, looking at each person while he speaks. “I’ve already decided on a few formations that we’ll be working with for the next couple of days. I even have the final formation thought out, but that can change. You all have the potential to be in it.” He smiles for the first time since entering the gym. “I believe in all of you.”

[whatyadrawin]

Michael Myers x Fem! Reader (Headcanon) 18+ only -First Fanfic Ever!-

The Evil Within (tentative title)

Masterlist

Approximately 2,060 words

Pairing: Michael Myers x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mention of medical procedure, mental health facility, and guns.

A/n: This is my very first fanfic ever! I wrote this with my partners help and I plan on making multiple chapters with my own art for each chapter. Please be considerate about my work since I am a beginner in writing Fanfics, my formatting may be a bit strange. This is an RZ Mikey with my own headcanon thrown in with some relevant reference to the entire series mixed in and out.

Overview: Y/n is an expertly skilled phlebotomist that is asked to come into the Haddonfield 'sanitarium' for a special specimen extraction.

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

Chapter 1

The sun is setting on the small town of Haddonfield and a cozy orange light seeps through the hospital break room window where you are gathering your belongings to head home. You moved here from Chicago 4 months ago to get away from the stress and cost of the big city. The hospital here was smaller and needed skilled phlebotomists for the towns aging population to be able to get adequate testing done with minimal injury. You were top of your game back in Chicago and when you heard there was an opening to move to a small hospital you jumped at the chance fully knowing you would be first pick. The people here were kind and friendly but only going as far as surface level, it felt like they were all timid of strangers and not to mention the overcrowded mental health facility that expanded after a gruesome incident occurred a while back involving a masked killer. Many of the population that went through the event had become traumatized and unable to cope with the severe PTSD, you knew this town had a dark past but no one seemed to want to talk about it and you certainly weren’t one to push people.

Deanna, a nurse you had become familiar with approached you and said there was a call for you from the Forensic Psychiatry hospital. You felt a bit taken aback at being specifically requested by such a place so you decide to inquire further.

Deanna “I wasn’t able to find you so I took a message down with the number, they want you to call them back as soon as you can, it sounds important” she hands you the paper with her note on it. You open the note and it reads ‘Requesting *Y/N* for difficult specimen extraction, please call 987-8771 ASAP’. You lock eyes with Deanna and she just shrugs, you get up to go over to the wall phone and dial the number. 

Beeeeeep …… beeeeep……. Beeeeeep…. “Hello, Dr.Loomis speaking” 

“Hi, this is *Y/N* I am returning a call about a difficult specimen?” You try not to sound tired.

“Oh yes, thank you for calling me back so quickly. There is a patient here who needs some bloodwork done for forensic purposes and we have had an extremely troubling time getting his sample. I was informed that you are a very skilled phlebotomist, it was said you could draw blood from a stone.”

You blush at the notion of being almost magically talented “Well, I do have quite a few years of experience under my belt so I am confident in my ability to draw from challenging veins. How come it has been so hard for others? Can you tell me a little about the patient?”

The doctor paused for a while and then spoke “Well the patient is a very large man with violent tendencies, his skin is tough to penetrate and he doesn’t take well to people being close to him. I am sure you have experienced such things in the hospital you were previously employed at in Chicago, so this should be no different”

A large violent man? Your curiosity has grown exponentially, you experienced many different types over the years, some of the worst were the criminals with unstable behaviors, but you still always got a sample from them as if they trusted you naturally from the start.  Your job forced you to be in people’s intimate spaces and it was always a risk for you.

“Ok when do you need me to come in?”

Dr.Loomis responded in a very straightforward tone “Right away, let me give you the address”

You write down the address and say goodbye then hang up the phone. 

Deanna had been listening the whole time: “Who was that? What is the situation there?” She had never been so inquisitive in your work before. 

You reply “It was a Dr. Loomis; he needs me to head over to the forensic hospital right now and get a specimen". You were already tired from the 12hr shift today but you had an obligation to provide service wherever you are needed. You look over to Deanna, she was white as a sheet, before you could ask what was wrong, she begins to speak “Oh god, that could only mean…. *Y/N* make sure you are careful; you have a right to refuse unsafe work just remember that ok?” she quickly speeds out of the room. 

Now you are worried, what am I going to be dealing with? Deanna reacting like that was very unusual but you didn’t have time to think about it so you gather your belongings and set off. 

The Forensic hospital is now within your sight, you pull into the parking lot located outside of the massive iron gate with the buildings name on it ‘Smith’s Grove Sanitarium’. It’s already dark outside as the sun had set fully a few minutes ago.For the first time in your career, you feel intimidated. What’s stranger, is that this new feeling excites you: who is this large violent man? I hope he doesn’t give me a hard time. You head up to the buzzer and press down and the gate unlocks immediately, they were expecting you. As you enter the building, the walls are a grayish white and the lights are dimmer than you have typically seen, an oppressive energy is given off from the high ceiling that looms over you. You get to the front desk where a man dressed in all white greets you with an expressionless face, he gives you instructions to go to the basement and find the ward supervisor who would get you set up. You feel a bit perplexed and ask “Where is Dr.Loomis? He is the one who contacted me” The man turns away and mutters “He hasn’t been to this hospital in ten years” You quickly follow up with “Is he still in charge of the patient?” The man is now digging through some files and looks back at you and replies “Dr.Loomis can’t do anything more for him, he just manages the legal files and makes special requests if needed, you better hurry down there so you can get out of here quicker” and with that he walked off with a few folders and disappears down the hall. You get a sense of urgency and quicken your step towards the elevator, you press the button for the basement floor and the doors immediately open; The elevator feels like it is taking longer than usual to get to your floor, eventually the doors open and you see a long hallway with many barred checkpoint doors. At the entrance you see a small man sitting in a chair watching some security camera screens, you walk up to him and state your name and why you are there, he cuts you off mid-sentence and says “Don’t worry I know who you are, follow me, all the supplies are already set up outside his room” This hospital did not feel very well run and seemed like it was not there for care and rehabilitation but more for confinement and punishment. 

You make your way through 4 checkpoints and turn a corner and end up at a huge metal door with one small porthole window and dozens of security locks. what were they keeping down here? Why are they being so secretive about this patient? The door is guarded by 2 well-armed men who held large guns in their arms on either side of the door. You spot a familiar cart with all the tools you need for a successful blood draw.  You look at the small man and ask “Where is the patients requisition form?” he sighs and replies “Don’t worry it’s all set up, no need to check we just need you to be quick” You are given the tubes you require and you promptly grab the needed items, as you grab the standard needle the small man laughs and says “Girlie, you are going to need a much bigger gauge for this patient, he might have deep veins but they are huge” You hide your annoyed expression, he shouldn’t try to tell you what to do, they did call YOU after all.  Once you have everything you need the man begins to open the door and says “Be as quick as you can, he is heavily sedated right now but it only works for so long”. The two guard walk into the room with you following right behind them.

When you get inside the room it is extremely dark except for one light that shines down on a bed with what looks like a giant on it. You stop for a second to take in what you are seeing, this man had to have been 6’8” at minimum. The small man snorts and says “I told you he was big, better be quick!” Dr.Loomis’ words echo in your head Large...tough skin… violent you pick up your pace and walk up to this monstrosity of a man and set your things down on the extra bed space near his arm. The man is strapped down all over the place in tight restraints but he is breathing very slowly, he doesn’t react at all to your movements. You grab your tourniquet and try to get it around his massive bicep, you can’t fit the tourniquet enough to tie a loop for occlusion and just as you remove it the small man is behind you and quietly whispers “here, this is the largest one we have… I thought you were briefed on him” You grab the large tourniquet and tie it around the patient’s bicep tight, the beast of a man doesn’t even move. You can already see his vein, it is massive and bulging. These veins are entry level, why has this been such a struggle? You untie the tourniquet and begin cleaning the patients arm and you notice the guards holding their weapons at the ready aimed at the large man. He must be relentlessly violent if they are already aiming at him, I better hurry up. You get your needle ready and retie the patients arm and prepare to poke; the needle goes in with a bit of resistance but when you engage the tube dark red blood starts bursting in and vibrates your sample tube. This man has strong valves so it takes you no time to fill the tubes, once you get to the final tube you set it down after it fills and get the gauze ready for the pull out, when you take out the needle and press the gauze you look up at the patient and your eyes widen. A face covered in long scraggly hair is now staring at you, through the strands you can make out a strong jaw covered in stubble and 2 icy blue eyes that make you feel like time has frozen …until you hear the guards lift their guns and warn you to quickly step back and get out of the room. You snap into action and grab your belongings and race out of the room followed by the guards and they quickly shut and lock the door. You are sweating from fear and you look into the porthole window and he is still staring at you with no expression. The small man starts chuckling “Oh wow that was a close one, it seems the sedation was wearing off sooner than later but I am glad you got the blood” You nod and start taking in air and you back away from the window, you hand the specimens to the small man and settle your nerves. Those eyes, that massive body… for the first time in a while your thoughts gave you butterflies, how can I feel like this after that encounter! But the excitement was more than you had ever felt in years and the man you took blood from seemed unreal, his size alone was mythical and those eyes… they were cold and seemingly dead but you felt a whisper of spirit behind them, an evil spirit.

As you walk away you notice a placard on the wall next to the patient’s door and you read it carefully, you see the name that invoked tales of horror among the people of Haddonfield, that well known name that no one wanted to speak. Michael Myers.

[micheswife]

Confessions

MICHE ZACHARIAS X SHY CADET

Miche finally tells his crush he likes her. That's it

Miche watched her from Erwin’s office as she left the headquarters to enjoy a well-deserved break. The evening sun highlighted her brunette curls, stopping just below her delicate shoulders. It was a shame really, her hair used to touch her waist when she first joined. She was so incredibly shy and anxious back then, struggling to find her place among younger people that were much stronger than her. He remembered back when she declined the promotion for the sake of her happiness. It had been 3 years since y/n joined the survey corps at the age of 20. She was a late beginner, but her analytical skills, a fateful emotional meltdown and a background in research had soon gotten her a place under section commander Hange. Y/n was not good as a fighter, but she was observant, more than Erwin and Hange. Miche could not help but notice her, she was cute after all. She had flaws, just like everyone else, but the veteran soldier was drawn to her in particular. He couldn’t remember when he felt like that for the first time. Maybe it was when he saw her for the first time, clutching a soiled handwritten application and trying her hardest to put on a brave face. Who knows? Who cares? The important part was that he liked her, she did not know and he was not going to tell.

“What are you looking at Miche? “

“N-nothing, Erwin. Go on…”

Miche went back to focusing on the meeting. y/n had already disappeared in the next lane, so there was no point looking outside. The meeting would go on for hours, as usual, veterans had no holidays.

Meanwhile, y/n made herself comfortable near the quiet riverbank. It was one of the few attractions in the little land of Paradis, especially after the fall of Wall Maria. The serene river glowed red under the now darkening sun rays. Y/n had about 30 minutes to draw something, after which it would get too dark. Problem was, y/n had no idea what to draw. So she just sat there, wondering about her life. It seemed self-indulgent to refuse work only to get out and ponder about herself, but she needed it. The chaos inside the headquarters hardly did her any good. She wanted quiet and peace, but what she had right now was just pure loneliness. Y/n had friends, but nobody close or free enough to sit under the open night sky. So she sat all alone over the wall, the cold breeze ruffling her hair. If only there were someone to hold her.

“Bottomline, all of you must prepare your squads for next month’s expedition. We can’t afford to compromise manpower. Pay attention to the weak members, we need them to come back alive. You all are dismissed.”

Miche walked out of Erwin’s office and went straight to his room that he shared with Dieter, another squad leader. He felt tired, as though he knew what was about to come. A lot of action and a shit ton of casualties, not to forget all the rigorous training he was about to deliver on the cadets.

“What a long day..”

“Tomorrow’s going to be longer, Ness.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you will make it through the expedition?”

Miche scrunched his nose at the odd yet totally reasonable question. Him and Dieter served the scout regiment since their teenage years, yet they never quite got used to the anxiety before impending doom. Against his overbearing stress, Miche gave him a positive answer hoping to lift his spirits.

“I will make it out alive, Ness. The most damage I will end up with is a lost limb, after which I will retire and live a peaceful life. Don’t worry.” Miche finished with his signature scoff, masking his true emotions. The shameless, pretentious display of cockiness was all worth the little chuckle from Ness, the most sociable, tender man among veterans.

They made their way to the dining hall after chit chatting and freshening up. Their tables had the usual serving of bread, soup and vegetables. His eyes scanned the place for the owner of those beautiful, crazy curls, y/n, she should have been back by now. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Usually it was so easy to spot her in her corner seat. Perhaps Hange assigned her some work, but he couldn’t risk revealing his crush by asking the overly-energetic squad leader. So he quietly finished his plate, feeling just a little hint of emptiness because he missed y/n.

“Nifa, find y/n and tell her I want her in the lab tomorrow at 6am sharp.” Mike overheard Hange speaking from a couple of tables away.

“Yes captain.” Nifa quickly finished her meal and left the dining hall and eventually the headquarters. Her face made it clear that she had done this several times now and Miche was not surprised. Y/n was often in her own head and stayed out for a long time. Miche just found it unusual for her to stay out this late. It was cold outside, no person in their right mind would stay out past 8pm. He wished he knew what was going on inside the girl’s head that made her personality so withdrawn, but he did not have the time. He needed to draft a schedule for this week’s training and tests for the cadets. Just the thought of sitting in an office doing paperwork with a candlelight flickering throughout the night made him feel calm. He was extremely skilled on the field, but he liked doing paperwork too. His studious side was something only his immediate squad and other veterans were familiar with. Sometimes he couldn’t help fantasizing about sharing his study with y/n. Aside from his feelings, y/n had the brains to draft a perfect test that tapped into all the necessary skills for the next expedition. After all, that was what she had been doing before joining the survey corps, albeit in a different field. Miche stopped in his tracks as an idea struck him. He felt dumb, so dumb. He had drafted so many tests, all by himself, fully knowing that there was someone that could probably do it better than him. Fully knowing that y/n had been a psychology student, and she had perfected the theory subjects after joining the survey corps. He turned around and approached Hange.

“Would you mind if I borrow one of your soldiers for a while?”

“That depends, Miche, who are you talking about?”

“Y/n, I need her help drafting the tests tonight. I think she can do a good job.”

“You are right.. I’ll let her know.”

“Tell her to be in my office by 9;30 tonight.”

Miche left for his office to begin work, he wanted to finish as much as he could before y/n showed up. Because work was not the only thing he was concerned about. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was dubious, but he needed to do it. It was funny how a few hours ago he thought he’d never confess his feelings, but later created an opportunity to do that exact thing. He couldn’t believe himself.

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It was 9;30 sharp, and Miche heard a soft knock on his office door.

“Come in, it’s unlocked, and take a seat before me.” He said without lifting his head.

Y/n made herself comfortable and glanced over three open books and a single page. Miche was writing down questions.

“Alright y/n, I need your help drafting the question papers for tomorrow’s tests. Of course, you will be exempted from actually taking the test as a reward.”

“Understood, sir”

“Good, now I want you to create 30 questions that combine the concepts of formations, weaponry and strategy. Make them difficult, and make sure to base it upon the last 5 expeditions.”

“Alright-”

“You have 2 hours to finish this.”

“Okay..” y/n walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a heap of books. Miche raised his eyebrows in confusion,

“How are you going to refer to that many books and finish it within time?” Miche questioned her.

“I will, don’t worry.” y/n’s sudden confidence took him aback.

“Well good luck.”

Time flew by quickly as both of them were engrossed in their work, the only sounds coming from the candle and turning of pages. It wasn’t peaceful to be precise, y/n was turning pages with such aggression it made the section commander steal glances at her. She would flip through the pages and write down important points, constantly checking the time as she worked. Her handwriting got messier as time flew by and Miche couldn’t help but notice. He could tell that y/n totally had the plan to give those cadets a hard time. She had a weak, but cocky smirk the whole time, and Miche was just glad that he was not one of the people that would need to take the test. He knew that expression and aggressive handwriting very well. She always wore that smirk while writing exams, and everytime she came out on top. Miche knew she was overcompensating for her sub-par physique and iron-deficiency that interfered with her ODM skills, but that semblance of confidence on her face always turned him on. Her hair was still messed up, she struggled to keep that twisted fringe out of her face.

“Where’s the ruler?!” Y/n asked loudly, shaking Miche out of his trance.

“Wait…” He fished out a ruler from the clutter in his drawer and handed it to y/n.

“What are you drawing?”

“A wrong diagram of the latest formation.” Y/n replied curtly.

“I see.. Good.”

Miche was organizing his drawer after finishing his work when y/n handed him the tests. It was 11;30 sharp. The ink had somehow gotten between y/n’s fingers. Miche went through all seven pages of three extremely complicated tests and shot a glance at y/n, who looked like she was awaiting his praise. She was sitting with her back straight, wide eyed and messy hair. Miche chuckled, and y/n smiled. She knew she had done those cadets dirty with her questions.

“You have a naughty side, don’t you?” “Kitten” , was the term Miche refrained from using at the end.

Y/n nodded with a cheeky grin. The section commander squinted and got up from his chair, towering over her. A faint blush crept over her cheeks as she broke eye contact with him, staring down at her feet instead. Her delicate shoulders now looked tensed up under her transparent, embroidered shoulder shawl. The pile of paperwork didn’t allow him to notice her beautiful blush pink dress. She had embroidered little flowers to accentuate her figure all the way down to her hips.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” Miche blurted out, causing her to blush harder and breathe unevenly.

“Thank you, sir..”

“Look at me when you speak.”

“O-okay..” she slowly raised her head, still not wanting to make eye contact.

“I will be straight to the point y/n… I like you, not just as a comrade.”

“Understood.” y/n was taking quick, short breaths, causing the tall blonde to get on his knees. She had gone back to her timid mouse state and he could no longer read her.

“Are you scared right now?” Miche tried hard to not sound like a creep.

“No, I like you too!”

“That’s -” he began to speak but got cut off.

“More than a comrade, if you were wondering…” she trailed off shyly. Miche kept staring at her, dumbstruck at her honest confession. This whole time he had no idea about her feelings.

"When were you planning to tell me ..?" Miche asked, pulling a chair behind him. He was still leaning towards y/n with an expression of pure shock.

"I… Never planned on saying anything." Y/n's expression saddened as she looked at him with her doe eyes.

"I can understand.". he was telling the truth. The realisation that their confessions were a result of his impulsive decision dawned on him. He couldn't take his eyes off her form. She looked anxious, fondling with her pendant in one hand.

"Do you want to take this further?" Y/n asked with a shaky voice, and his answer was immediate.

"Yes."

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" The 35 year old man felt like a teenager trying to walk on eggshells. The woman before him giggled and nodded in approval, finally lifting her hand from the pendant. She was starting to settle down, although the butterflies in her stomach made it difficult. Miche was about to lean in when she stopped him and got up from her chair.

"I forgot to lock the door." She said naughtly.

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Okay, I really wanted to turn this into a smut, but I am too chicken. 🙈🥺

[combat-wombatus]

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death. 

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again. 

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy! 

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge​

here’s the link to the music :)

The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O  Y O U  W A N T  T O  F L Y  W I T H  M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

Masterlist

[studioxlii]

18 and Junhee pls!! Xx

"to be fully seen by somebody, then, be loved anyhow is a human offering that can border on miraculous."

proof read: kinda

warnings: none

note(s): the format might be garbage, im mobile.

Love is a weird thing but so are the conditions that come with it; the limits that people decide need to be in place. You understood boundaries or not wanting to take too many steps before you knew the relationship would hold but some things never sat right with you. It took a few years but it wasn't until you overheard some of your project group talking that it finally hit you; most people you knew didn't want to date their best friends for two reasons.

1. It could ruin their friendship. This reason was obvious and of course you understood.

2. They'd seen way too much.

You remember hearing those words and your head lifting, confused and wondering what that could even mean. When you were in a relationship that would eventually progress, weren't they just going to see those things anyway? You never could let that thought go, not once you decided that would only make it better; it would make a relationship stronger. Well, in your eyes.

Dating was something that seemed to come easier to you before those thoughts started polluting your mind; no one seemed to understand or see you in a way you really wanted. The ideal person for you was someone who saw everything; the bad days, the good days and the maybe okay but not so great days. It was really starting to mess with you. By not wanting to date certain friends, were you restricting yourself from the relationship you really wanted?

Only one person, one friend, knew you better than you knew yourself, you were positive of that. Your best friend of nine years, Junhee, had probably been through almost every bad thing possible in life with you. You began recalling all the situations you'd been in with each other that were memorable; the things you wouldn't have faced with anyone else because you didn't want anyone else to see.

'Do you remember when you got your belly button pierced?'

And that's when it began.

The question came out of nowhere, breaking the silence of your apartment and leaving Junhee to look up from his book confused and blinking. 'Uh.. yes?' His response came out slow, hesitant like he was missing some weird in-between the lines meaning of the question.

Your head tilted, finally looking over at him. 'Do you remember the way you squeezed my hand to the point it was purple because it hurt so bad you nearly passed out?'

His features flushed at the ridiculous memory being forced back into his head. 'You mean the same day you had to cling to me, crying because your first tattoo felt like your leg was being seared off?'

You hated crying in front of people for any reason but you couldn't go alone; you'd never go alone for something like that. You just nodded in response before returning to your own book, continuing to read like you hadn't brought the subject up at all.

Your first date after you began recalling things and getting far too deep in what could only be sentimental thoughts went okay. A friend of your friend's, Sehyoon, who was an art major and knew of you but didn't know you; he'd never really integrated himself into the small friend circle on campus but Byeongkwan spoke highly of him.

He was sweet; a gentleman. Pretty much anything you could really ask for but you noticed little things; minute things that didn't even matter. You felt like you were being unreasonable or judgmental despite only picking out things that didn't match. Didn't match what, exactly?

He wasn't Junhee.

The realization had you suddenly shooting up from your seat, interrupting the poor male's answer to your question about his major and spilling out several apologies as you even fought to put money down for your own food. It took quite a few more 'I'm really sorry's before you were speeding out of the small restaurant; you'd make sure to call him later.

You found yourself in the only place that made sense: banging hard on the door of the RA for your building, hardly caring if you disturbed anyone else.

'What?' was the greeting you received from a very frustrated Donghun, wanting nothing more than to be left alone again. And yes, you called each other your friend.

'We have a really, really big problem.'

Being a mutual friend and despite not wanting to get involved in anyone's "drama", he spent two hours talking you out of it, down from it and against it, reminding you just why your newfound feelings for your best friend were a problem. He even reminded you of your comment, three years ago, about how you could never possibly like Junhee; how he remembered that and you didn't, you didn't care to ask.

You returned home a wreck, tired and wanting to burn your own emotions. Were you really uncovering some unconsciously buried feelings or did you just like the fact that he /saw/ you? He'd seen you nearly on your deathbed sick.

He'd seen you living in a depression nest for two weeks, barely able to get out a bed and eating nothing but honey buns and cereal.

He'd seen you grieve family members and pets; seen you walk into the rain and scream at the top of your lungs because of how lost in despair you'd been.

He'd seen you drunk and stupid; he'd seen you the night after a one night stand and hungover to the point you wanted to fight the sun.

He'd sat by you absolutely throwing your guts up.

He had seen every single side of you and you'd seen the same from him but it only started to stack further and further.

You knew his favorite songs because God forbid he only have one. You knew his favorite color, favorite food and his weird retirement plan that involved a tiny petting zoo of his own that he refused to just call a farm. Your pins for everything were each other's birthdates and he was the only other name on your bank account. Why?

Staring down at the menu you'd seen over a hundred times, you were sure, you couldn't decide on just what sounded good and part of you just wanted everything. Those moments staring at words that started to blur, you noticed Junhee hadn't touched his menu and kept shifting around, visibly uncomfortable for reasons you couldn't possible figure out.

'It's unlike you to not be going off about the food here.. or already having ordered your favorite drink that, I recall, you said you'd die without if you didn't have it every time you came here,' you began, closing the menu and setting it down with narrowed eyes, 'what's going on?'

'It's stupid. Just.. order and get some food, I'll probably just eat later. I'm not really hungry.'

That was a bold faced lie and you knew it, the concern growing. 'And, what's the oh-so-stupid reason, exactly?'

It took him a minute, shifting more and acting like a child who had gotten in trouble. 'I, uh.. I can't really..' he gestured around, lips pursed and growing even more upset by the second, you could tell by the way he was trying to stop himself from frowning. 'Can't really afford it.' You were college students, it wasn't the world's biggest secret if you couldn't afford something.

'Do you really think I'm just going to eat in front of you?' You snorted, avoiding any comment that would further his being upset over the situation, 'Don't worry about it and order, okay?'

Financial struggles were no quiet matter between the two of you and never had been since you started school. Junhee lived off campus in an apartment with two shitty roommates, a terrible part time job and parents that pretty much didn't care if he perished on the side of the street somewhere. You, on the other hand, which you didn't like bringing up, were doing fine but only because your parents dropped something of an 'allowance' into your account for foods and necessities.

You ignored his attempt to argue and told him if he didn't order something, you were going to do it for him; he shut up.

The next day, you took a trip to the bank.

You could feel eyes on you as you splayed across the couch, staring at the ceiling and contemplating life and all of it's annoyances. No question left you but even if you wanted to say something, you were cut off.

'So, are you going to tell me what's going on? For the past.. three weeks? You've been asking me all sorts of weird stuff,' Junhee inquired, frowning thoughtfully, 'Are you testing me or something? Trust me, yes, I remember every single second I've spent with you. I remember every word you've said, the names of every guy you've been with and the ones I'd like to fight. I remember every birthday and gift I've given you and the ones you've given me. Yes, I remember your favorite things and everything so, what's the deal?'

It sounded sentimental at first but then you noticed that all too familiar waiver in his voice and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hands fiddling with the chain bracelet that had adorned his wrist for five years; he wanted to cry. A crying Junhee was something no one ever wanted on your hands and you briefly recalled a phone call from a very panicked Byeongkwan because of just that but you were letting your thoughts get off topic.

'I think I'm in love with you.'

'If you don't want to be fri-'

You were both cut off as your head turned to finally look at him, soaking in the unreadable expression on his features when someone busted through the door; 'Look!'

Both of you looked towards your two friends that invited themselves into your door, one holding a new cat and the other looking just as pleased with the announcement but it gradually dropped. 'Shit, did we interrupt something?' Of course, you always knew when you finally and truly confessed to someone that it would be Byeongkwan who ruined the whole thing; you used it as an escape, though, reminding yourself of what the confession could do to your friendship.

'New minion, I see,' you chimed, sitting up and ignoring the question, both of them, as you rose to greet Donghun's new pet. You were ignorant to the looks shared between the three boys and you were happy about that.

Now, you just had to avoid it ever coming up again until it was forgotten.

Junhee, however, didn't want that to happen.

After about an hour of chitchatting and ignoring the gaze of your best friend, you excused yourself under the excuse of having a meetup for a class, despite it being your dorm, and managed to weasel your way out. There was really nowhere to go, no one to talk to and you surely didn't have any plans for the next week; you ended up at the café on campus. It was quiet and filled mostly with a few students doing work and the two members of staff behind the counter, one eventually joining you at the table. He didn't say anything, waited for you to stop your dramatic Disney scene and acknowledge him.

'Would you date me, Yu?'

Taken a bit off guard, he ended up snorting. 'I can't tell if this is a trap or you want the genuine answer,' he replied, crossing his arms atop the table, 'but, on the hand that it's serious.. probably. I mean, I definitely wouldn't turn you down. We've known each other for a few years, hang out on a regular basis.. get along and have a lot of similar interests. So, yeah.'

The answer made your lips draw into a deep frown and you tapped your fingers against the cup, soaking up every word. 'Even though we're friends? What if we broke up?'

A soft 'ah' came from him as he realized what was really going on and he shrugged, thinking it over for a minute or two. 'We're both adults and I don't believe either of us would do something so that the breakup would be something that could ruin our friendship. I understand it would be like.. friends then it being intimate then back to friends, but I think both of us are mature enough to deal with that and not let it bother us too much.' He spoke like he'd been through it several times and in reality, it had only been once, a small fling with a mutual friend but they still seemed pretty okay. 'Is this about Jun?'

'Does everyone know?' You groaned out, releasing the cup to lean back and rub your hands over your face in defeat, 'I.. I told him I think I love him then Kwan and Donghun showed up and I bailed because now I don't actually want to face him or admit to ever actually saying it. I do! I do love him! I don't.. I don't want to lose him, you know?'

You could see the way the latter looked at you, sympathetic and calculating what words wouldn't just stress you out further. 'Look.. I know you don't want to hear it from me or anyone else for that matter because you want to keep saying it'll ruin your friendship when in reality, you don't like the idea that you could hurt each other, I was the same way with Donghun, so I understand.. but, you should really see all this from an outsider's point of view. Junhee looks at you like you hung the moon and you look at him like he painted the stars; yes, it's been like that since I've met you and a reminder, it's been years. I don't know what took you so long to realize it or if you've just avoided it this whole time but anyone would have to be blind not to see it. Now,' he sighed deeply as he finished and straightened, 'I think you should probably go and talk to him about it considering you just confessed then ditched but it's your choice. I don't think you have anything to worry about.. for either of you. You're the most loyal person I know, so I have no doubt you'd ever hurt him in a way that would ruin you guys and he can barely swat at a fly or sit still through hearing thunder, you think he's going to do something? Regardless.. one of these days, soon, you'll have to face it and I really hope you don't go into it with the cliché reason of your friendship being ruined.'

The words sank in slow and you wanted nothing but to cry your eyes out because he was right; he always was and you hated it. It took a while for you to speak and he seemed okay with that, briefly leaving you to fill a couple orders before returning. 'I know you're leaving for break tomorrow.. tell him before then.' Those were his last words before he bid you good luck and a good night, heading back to his own dorm, most likely to call Donghun now that he'd projected just a little bit.

Irrationality was a word that would be in your character description box and the word stupid could very well be right next to it because when you got home, you packed your bag and decided to leave early, not bothering to let any of your friends know. You needed time and you were being selfish, so selfish to the point you thought maybe he'd just hate you when you got back.

Oh boy were you wrong.

Two days into being back home and confiding in your mother who promptly smacked you upside the back of the head, you found yourself sitting on the porch and moping, split between what to do. You suspected the boys were a bit angry with you when you noticed the ample amount of texts, voicemails, social messages and phone calls that had gone ignored; you caught a glimpse of the absolute book Yuchan took the time to send you, leaving you kind of scared to even open it. It didn't take long for the guilt to set in but you chose to wait until you were back on campus to deal with it.

Or at least, that was your plan.

'So, I know you've never been a fan of confrontation but.. you've never been the type to run away.'

The sudden voice startled you as you hadn't even noticed anyone pull up and of course, upon looking up, you were met with the face you were trying to avoid the most. Junhee stood at the end of the sidewalk looking pitiful and shifting his weight in a nervous manner. You didn't bother trying to speak, not knowing what to say but you did wait for the rant, the berating that you deserved; that wasn't who he was though.

He even stayed quiet for a minute or two, making his way closer to sit on the steps, looking up towards your figure. 'Did you mean it?'

You could have answered right away, poured your heart out and let out the tears you'd been holding in since the moment you left. Instead, you stayed quiet and pulled your knees closer to your chest, not trusting your own voice. He didn't relent though, reaching out to lightly nudge your knee.

'That's all I need to know.. did you mean it? If.. if you didn't I can just leave and we don't have to bother with it again.'

'And, if I did..?' Finally finding your voice, you looked over to him, chewing hard on your lower tier, nervous and kind of wanting to throw up.

You could see him thinking it over before a faint smile showed up. 'I'd most likely cry.. but I'm going to cry either way,' he began, shrugging his shoulders while moving up to sit next to you, 'I'd also tell you that I love you, too and I've been trying to tell you that for years now.'

The confession made your heart flutter, your skin burn and the butterflies being kept back burst in delight in your gut. 'Even.. after everything we've been through? Everything you've seen..?'

Junhee nodded. 'Mhm. I'd go through it all again and what do you mean? I've seen nothing but you.'

[rehncohro]

Phantasy Star Online 2 New Genesis Is One Of The Biggest Disappointments Of 2021

Phantasy Star Online 2: New Genesis is one of the biggest disappointments of this year. It hurts because it was one of the games I was really looking forward to. Unfortunately, there are plenty of problems with it and I'm not alone with this. Lots of players have been complaining. The launch of the game was far from smooth. Just like when I participated in the closed beta test, the game lagged like crazy. It took a while for it to actually reach a much more playable to state but it was still far from ideal. The game wasn't running smoothly at all and the worst part is, players were suddenly required to get through the long intro of New Genesis before they can unlock a feature that shouldn't even be locked in the first place. The thing about New Genesis is it was released as a part of the original Phantasy Star Online 2. The idea is that you'll be able to switch between the two games at any time you want. That sounds like a good idea on paper, but in execution it just makes me feel like New Genesis should have been its own separate game instead of being tied to the original Phantasy Star Online 2. I had spent so many hours in the original game so having to play the new game to unlock access to a game I had already played makes no sense to me. Worst of all, you have to do this with all of your characters. While there's some early missions can be skipped if you've already completed them with one character it doesn't make this any less annoying. Switching between the two games has been far from seamless. New Genesis works differently from the original game's mission based format by being an open world game. In an attempt to make things more convenient, there's only one loading screen and it is extremely long. Even the original PSO2 takes too much time to start up. I've been lucky that I've had a computer that can run it, but some players haven't had the same luck and are unable to play the game at all. When logging in, they just get an unbearable amount of lag. That's how it was for me on my laptop for a while until I got the idea to launch Razer Cortex. I normally don't find boosters like this helpful since they don't usually work for me, but it seems to have worked for PSO2. Thanks to that, I'm able to get into both the original game and NGS on my laptop pretty quickly. However, it's pretty dumb that I even have to launch another program just to get this one game to run better. ​ They run near smoothly this way, though it should go without saying that the original game performs way better. NGS has a habit of freezing every now and then. Sometimes the game will continue, but other times it just gets stuck there and I have to exit the game, which can cause a great loss of progress on some story missions! Since PSO2 has become pretty much unplayable for a lot of players, the player count has dropped quite a bit since I started playing. Both games have missions that go much better with multiple players, although I'm more familiar with the original game. There were quests I played a lot that were made with multiplayer in mind. Whenever I got in the past, several players were there waiting to start a mission. We'd be at or close to the player limit for that mission before we began. Now when entering one of these quests, I often find nobody there waiting to participate and I don't have the patience to wait for anyone else to join so I just end up not doing those missions most of the time. It's not just players that have left the game, some features were taken away with the launch of New Genesis. While the updated graphics for New Genesis are nice and all, it doesn't really make up for anything. There were ways for players to get special items without paying real life money. Plenty of campaigns existed which would get the player in-game currency called Star Gems or SG and fortunately, players are still able to get the currency in the same way, but these days, you have to login into NGS, not the original game. We don't really get any of the good campaign items anymore. Whenever there's been anything, it's always been an apology item for some graphical glitch. Some days we'd get SG and on others, we'd get bonus keys which are used for bonus quests which are really good for grinding exp and leveling up. Bonus keys can also come from the daily recommended quests, but I haven't been seeing them much lately and when I do, it's never the good bonus keys. Back to SG, there used to be the Fresh Finds Shop, which would have several random items that changed daily and you could spend SG on them. It's gone now. PSO2 also had what they called Mission Pass. How this worked is the player would perform missions which could be anything like completing a quest on a certain level, go fishing, break a container of a certain color, or get your class to a certain level. After completing enough missions, you would unlock tiers and the more you unlocked, the more prizes you would get. After the launch of NGS, it's gone. Oddly, last I checked the mission for checking out Mission Pass is still in the game and my characters that have never done Mission Pass have no way to complete it. t's easy to feel like Sega's gotten greedy, since a lot of the cosmetic stuff that players used to be able to get for free by working for it is now locked behind a paywall. To be fair, a lot of stuff was locked behind a paywall already, but the thing is, there's so much less a player can get without playing. To make things worse, a lot of this stuff is locked behind a gacha system, so you're not guaranteed to get what you want. Thankfully, some of the gacha can be done with SG and there is one free pull daily. But that doesn't really change how lame all this is. The money crap is definitely annoying, but there's another reason that people are annoyed with what PSO2 has become. New Genesis is very lacking in content. The original PSO2 definitely lacked in content when it came out in Japan in 2012, but it's 2021 now so players would definitely expect more. With the original game from 2012 until this year, I assume content was released at a decent-ish rate and for players outside of Japan we were definitely spoiled as we got a lot of content at a pretty good rate. This is due to the fact that Phantasy Star Online 2 did not release outside of Japan until last year. Because of that, there was a ton of content that just had to be localized and then they could roll stuff out. In defense of New Genesis, it is new so we obviously won't receive stuff at the same rate as we did for the original PSO2. However, several players feel like the releases of new content are too far spread out. When New Genesis launched, several classes were unavailable. To be fair, it was like that in the original PSO2 for a while. However, considering the whole idea of switching between the two games, not having all of PSO2's classes available is kinda lame. It makes hard when sending an old character to PSO2, because then we need to decide what new class we're going to give them. It might have been better if all or at the very least most of the original game's classes were available in New Genesis from the start. If that was the case, we wouldn't be getting excited for classes  that were already in PSO2 and perhaps NGS could have just gotten some new exclusive classes instead. To be honest, New Genesis players are dying for new content in general as they find they are running out of things to do. A lot of New Genesis players have finished the story quests and are left with just randomized tasks, some changing daily and others weekly. I've looked at those task lists and they have plenty of things for the players to do, but I can only imagine these tasks getting really repetitive. Not only that, but the amount makes players feel like the game isn't respecting their time at all. Speaking of not respecting time, there is a very annoying mechanic that was added to New Genesis: Battle Power or BP. As you do more stuff in game, like fight enemies earning exp, upgrade weapons, and complete tasks, your BP goes up. However, it moves up so slowly and it's even a requirement to get through the story. To be honest, it's just some extremely stupid and annoying way to pad out the game's length. ​ Does Sega care that their fans aren't happy with the current state of the game. With things the way there, they're making it seem like they don't. There have been several complaints but Sega seems to be ignoring them, acting like everything is just fine with game they managed to screw up this summer. I really do hope things will change at some point, because myself and several other players aren't satisfied with New Genesis. Whenever I login, I find myself getting bored pretty quickly. New Genesis made leveling up tedious and not fun, so I have no motivation to do it. Whenever I do decided to boot up Phantasy Star Online 2, I usually just start up the original game, because too be honest with the way things are now, it's way more fun to play. I hope Sega won't ignore all the complaints and will actually do something to fix the issues we've been having. I'm sure I didn't cover everything since I mainly stuck to stuff I experienced myself and read from others. I'm not gonna try to get my hopes up, but Sega's going to have to make some big changes to the system and the game's performance if they want to get anywhere near the amount of players they used to have.

[heybeybey]

You should be killing titans Levi

Happy Smutty Saturday everyone. I actually promised angst but the plot I have in mind for that one might need a few more weeks because my mind is melting.

Anyway, have crack instead feat. Levi getting horny over a titan. Man just can't catch a break.

And no, the sex happens in Petra's human form. Please, I'm not that fucked up yet 😭

Summary: Petra somehow acquired the Cart Titan during canon events and Levi, whose sole purpose in the past few years was to kill titans, finds himself simping over one.

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Romance, Humor, Crack

Words: 2,480

---

When Petra emerged from her titan form the first time, the only thing Levi thought about was her safety. Sure, they'd seen that Eren was perfectly fine, albeit a bit knocked out of it. But the idea of humans controlling titans is still pretty new to their own little world. As Petra's captain, of course he'd do whatever he can to protect his subordinates.

They tested out her abilities in the limited time they have until the next expedition. Hange, the mad bitch that they are, would be the one doing and leading the experiments while his squad oversees. Frankly, him and the three other guys think it's more to protect Petra from Hange's crazy ideas.

So, it was the same as usual. As far as usual can get when it comes to the Survey Corps, that is. Petra was still in his team and surprisingly, nothing changed in their relationship as captain and subordinate.

Everything only shifted when he'd seen her in action during her first expedition as a titan shifter.

He honestly thinks that her titan form is ugly as fuck. It was even uglier than Yeager's. However, seeing the fire in its eyes, in her amber eyes that is just so Petra had left him a little bit awestruck. Her titan has the same ginger hair and he shouldn't be thinking this, because he's looking at a titan, but is it shining when the light hits her tresses? He feels his mouth go dry as Petra's titan shields an injured scout from two abnormals, before making a move to kill them by biting off their napes.

She lands back on the ground, re-assembling herself in their usual scouting formation.

Fuck.

"Levi? Are you okay?" Erwin pipes up once they're all in the clear.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Erwin?"

Erwin, that bastard, only gives him a slow smirk in return.

"I hope that won't be much of a hindrance then," Erwin says, gesturing down. Levi glances down and only realizes now why his pants have started to tighten. The fact that he's currently riding a horse isn't doing him any favors.

---

There was this one time when Hange wanted to test how long the younger girl can retain her titan form and they found out that she can go on for months. He'd have to admit that he misses actually seeing Petra's face but even Levi found her titan's strength impressive.

Until she started crawling around in her human form.

He finds her crawling one afternoon and Levi feels that familiar heat flare up inside him as he takes in the curve of her back and ass. His eyes would sometimes stray there during trainings but he'd never expected her backside to be this round and full. The fact that she's currently in a dress that reaches just below her knee is only making this worse. He swallows when he sees a hint of exposed skin of her thigh and if he could bunch up her dress further, it would be so easy to just take her right now.

Levi's hand twitches, and he repeatedly needed to remind himself that touching his subordinate is considered harassment.

"What the fuck are you doing, Petra!?"

"Oh, hi captain!" Petra flushes in embarrassment, trying to push herself up against the wall but fails every time. She almost hit her head once, if Levi hadn't stepped in and helped her up himself.

"I'm sorry," She says, clinging to him. Levi, mortified that another inch closer would mean she'll feel the rising enthusiasm below his belt, tries to discreetly move his lower part away. "I didn't know this is a side effect of being in my titan form for too long. I'm actually on my way to tell Hange about it."

"Side effect?"

Petra only blushes deeper. "My body... might've forgotten how to walk properly since I've been on all fours for so long."

Levi can feel his brain short-circuiting when she said the words all fours. His brain started supplying him with an image of her on all fours in his own bedroom floor, of how he would bend her over and make her suck his-

"Hey Petra!" Thank fucking god. He'd never been so glad to have Hange around. "Gunther said you were coming to see me?"

Wanting to get everything over with completely (so he can run to his room and deal with his rising erection), he hoisted Petra up in his arms instead, leading to her wrapping her own arms around his neck. A blush tinges her soft round cheeks and he tries to avoid looking down at her, knowing that she's staring up at him in wonder.

He'd noticed this with Petra whenever they're physically close together, of how she'd be in a sort of trance whenever he'd subconsciously tuck a strand behind her ear or when she'd lean down to set his tea on his office table and he really shouldn't be thinking of this right now when he was just thinking of fucking her if Hange hadn't barged in.

Once she's settled in Hange's lab, Four Eyes took that moment to turn to Levi.

"Now you know how I feel whenever I see titans," Hange says.

"What." Horror starts to rise in Levi's chest when he realizes their implication, but only his disgust shines through his face.

"What?" Hange answers back, acting as if what they just said was a normal statement.

---

That same afternoon, Levi demanded from the medical team that they better provide him a crutch right fucking now or he won't be responsible for the injuries he'll be causing on the inhabitants of the room.

He hurriedly gives it to Petra, harshly ordering her that she is not to crawl around like that ever again for the sake of her dignity. Deep down, he knows it's to save his.

---

He tried to avoid being alone with Petra in her titan form in the coming months. Actually, he avoided being alone with her completely, even when she's out of her titan. But it's a Friday night and all the other scouts have been given time off, with some of them already packed up to go home for the weekend to see their family.

Petra, on the other hand, had no choice but to stay until further notice. She could barely leave the building unless either Levi, Eld, Gunther or Oluo is with her.

He sees her alone right now outside since Hange wanted to test if Petra can stay up all night in this form. The sun will rise up in a few hours, and he thinks this is more than enough time to indulge Four-Eyes in their curiosity.

"Captain?" It always catches him off guard whenever Petra speaks in her titan form. Her voice was so different from the sweet and cheerful tone he'd gotten used to greeting him in the morning.

"Couldn't sleep."

She's currently lying down, hands tucked under her titan's chin and it endearingly reminds him of a ginger cat curled up and poised to sleep. He noticed how Petra's eyes reveals just how bored she is, staring only straight ahead.

"Aren't you tired?" Levi asks, leaning his body against the side of Petra's titan form. Feeling the titan's bare skin almost made him flinch because he knows it's Petra. He shouldn't be thinking of his subordinate naked right now but her titan form isn't helping at all.

"Levi... are you actually getting attracted to a titan?" Erwin had asked him once, amusement coloring the blonde man's features, when he caught Levi staring at Petra's titan form during one of her experiments with Hange. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed you to be around Hange too much."

"Are you on some drugs, Erwin?" Levi snaps, but can't help the thumping in his chest and the rising panic because of course Erwin would catch on eventually. "Are you getting too smart that that brain of yours actually rotted and died in a shithole?"

Petra only shakes her head. "I'm all good, captain. Besides, Hange tells me I can take the day off to rest tomorrow. Still can't leave the barracks though."

Levi tries to avoid cringing at hearing her titan's voice. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it. "Can you not talk to me while you're using that voice? Get out of there." He orders.

Petra, always obedient and willing to please her captain, did get out of her titan. She struggled with detaching her hands as usual and Levi sighs, making a move to climb up and help her.

Before he gets the chance to do so, Petra was able to pull herself out abruptly but the force was enough to send her flying to the ground.

Levi's reflexes was fast enough to try and cushion her fall but the angle wasn't right for him to catch her properly, and Petra ends up landing on top of Levi and both of the groan at the impact.

Levi thinks that his erection must really hate him. It already betrayed him once during a fucking expedition. It's rising again now as Petra shuffles around in an attempt to stand up, muttering a string of sorry captain! and I didn't mean to, her every action brushing further against his dick.

"Stop it, Petra!" He shouts, panic almost tinging his voice. Petra freezes at his voice and Levi thinks that maybe he shouldn't have asked her to stop moving because now, his dick is directly against her thigh and she'll eventually feel everything.

He watches as confusion passes through Petra's face, before it shifts to shock when she finally realizes what was pressing against her thigh, eventually settling on a coy smile.

They stared at each other a little longer before this minx actually found the courage to intentionally press her thigh down further. Levi finally allows his pent up lust and frustration to blow over, growling as he grabs Petra's hair to pull her down for a bruising kiss.

---

When Petra mentioned that she's getting a whole Saturday off to rest, he's pretty sure this wasn't how Hange instructed the younger girl to spend her day.

He already came once after she enthusiastically sucked him off. He could only watch in a daze as Petra took him as far as she could, almost intentionally choking herself on his own cock. He's surprised at how much of an absolute freak Petra is, insisting that she's going to swallow every last drop of him even when he tried to push her away for her sake.

Now, she's settling herself on his bed, on all fours, and Levi's pretty sure he's going to die before this day ends. He palms her ass, giving a squeeze as he feels her up, before kneeling behind her to deliver hot kisses down her spine. Petra shivers when he pulls on her hips to draw her closer.

"I wanted to rail you so bad the past few weeks, Petra." He whisper against her skin, hand trailing down to start playing with her clit. "Fuck, your experiments with Four Eyes only made it worse."

"Take me like this then, captain." She says in the filthiest voice she could muster, grinding her ass up firmly against his clothed erection and opening her legs further for him. From the naughty smirk that she's giving him, Levi finally realizes that she'd already known just what has been running on his mind the past few weeks.

He can see her core glistening, half from when he'd fucked her with his tongue earlier on and half from her eagerness and anticipation to have him inside her as soon as possible.

He tears his underwear away, wasting no time in breaching her wet core. Petra moans wantonly, curving her lower back further so she can push her ass up to pull him inside of her more.

How can someone who sounds and looks and acts so sweet be such a fucking slut in bed? he thinks in a daze as he starts pounding inside her.

It was a tight fit and Petra grabs one of his hands to push his palm up against her breast. Levi was all too eager to indulge in her fantasies, thumbing down her erect nipple and squeezing as he gives a hard thrust.

When he hits the spot inside her just right, that's when they both fasten their pace. Petra braced her arms against the sheets, head falling down and forehead resting against the soft bed as she takes everything that Levi gives her.

She comes first, grabbing a pillow to catch a moan that's bordering a scream. Levi revels in the feeling of her tightening around him and after Petra says yes, I can take birth control come inside me, captain please, he didn't even think. He just lets himself go and Petra moans further as he releases hotly inside her.

Petra slacks down on the bed with him following, his bare and sweaty chest against her back. He rolls away after he'd caught his breath, and Petra giggles from contentment and ecstasy.

Her giggles shoot straight down to his cock and Levi finds himself starting to harden again. She squeaks a bit when she feels his growing erection against her ass before smirking, a challenging glint on her amber eyes as she finally turns to face him.

No words were needed to be spoken and she tempts him by throwing a toned leg over his middle, inching her skin closer to his crotch.

Needless to say, Petra found herself on her back, knees almost touching her shoulders as the captain made sure she kept her legs open for each of his thrusts.

After that round, Levi could only exhaustedly lie on his back afterwards. His mind is still swimming after orgasming for the third time in a row.

He was about to ask her if she'd like to take a shower first before they sleep, only for Petra to roll herself on top of him. She started peppering kisses along his jaw and neck, making it a point to grind her exposed nipples against the hard lines of his chest.

"Fuck, again?"

"Didn't Hange tell you that the cart titan has amazing endurance?" Petra leans in, a coy smile on her lips. "I can go on for hours, captain."

[deaththesyd]

A Swim Worth The Bruises

Finally, after months of following others and loving their content, I am ready to make my first contribution to this site with my own fanwork! (This is my excuse for anything weird about the formatting of my post.) This isn't my first time posting fanfiction however! I have an AO3 account under the same username as well, that has a shakily outlined story which this fic is part of.

This is my first post of hopefully many, prompted by Kisame week 2021's day 1 challenge, "Come into the water and I'll show you". @kisameweek-2021

I also want to say this was inspired by a post headcannoning that Kisame could draw sharks to him passively, kinda like the Zodiac members in Fruits Basket.

Summary:

“I just wonder what you do out there for so long.”

The look on her face was simply too cute to deny her curiosity. It was probably a bad idea, but knowing her, she would definitely enjoy the experience. He debated on the idea for a short moment, which piqued her interest further. Her pleading look ended the mental debate. “Come into the water and I’ll show you.”

The summer heat was quickly becoming unbearable. The early morning hadn’t been too bad, as the trio had been mostly shaded by the trees, but as the day progressed and the terrain turned to deadened grass and rock, the sun's beams were becoming a little more than an annoyance. Normally, Kisame would just trudge on, even at the risk of heat exhaustion, he prided himself on his ability to endure. With his companions though, that wasn’t an option. Itachi had been getting worse. He tried to hide it, and to his credit, he had hidden his worsening condition for years, but as their mutual trust strengthened and the sickness became harder to stifle, Kisame had taken notice of the muffled coughs and squinting glances. Their traveling had always been leisurely, but unless they were on a mission that was expected to be finished quickly, Kisame insisted on breaks. The younger man was both determined and stubborn, and this meant that without Kisame’s interference, he would have dropped dead from overexertion several times over. At the moment, said man was keeping pace with the taller man's strides, but his ever weary face was dampened by sweat, and his breath was coming out slightly harshened by exhaustion.

Looking down at his other side, he could see that their third companion was too, sweaty and tired and determined not to show it. Breathing laboured, she clutched the straps of her backpack as she shuffled along. Her steps were loud and crunched as she dragged her feet, no doubt wearing out the soles of her shoes. Healthy as she may be, she wasn’t accustomed to the heat and it wore on her as it did the two shinobi. Both needed a break, yet were firmly set on pushing themselves till they were forced to stop. He knew that he would have to be the one to make an excuse for them to rest, but he was having a hard time spotting a reasonable spot to recover. That was until the wind changed direction and he caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

The reason he hadn’t realized how close they were was because of the sloping, rocky cliffs that hid it from their view. As they drew nearer to the tall rocks Kisame could make out a seagull call and grinned. Itachi must have realized where they were as well, as he perked up slightly and gave the other man an approving look from the side of his eye. Both men changed their direction slightly and headed towards what they hoped would be a suitable rest stop. Turning to check on the woman following at his side, she appeared to not have noticed anything, focussed on her own thoughts. She only clued in when they were close enough to hear the waves lapping at the coast, that was when her eyes lit up with excitement. She looked first at Kisame, who gave her a sharp-toothed grin, then at Itachi, who simply gave a curt nod. Childlike glee had her tired feet bouncing along once again.

Climbing the rocky slopes was challenging, but when all three had clamored to the top, they were rewarded with the uninhibited breeze, and the sight of sparkling water reaching as far as the horizon. The sight was beautiful of course, but the promise of salty, cooling water had them quickly making their way down to the beach. The current position of the sun gave them a nice shaded area at the base of the cliffs to settle their things. Itachi unzipped his long Akatsuki cloak and used it to sit upon, leaning against the cold rock. Kisame’s cloak was laid on the sand next to Itachi’s, as well as his sword, Samehada, and the rest of his supplies. While he kicked off his shoes, his cloak was stolen by the third of their group as she lazily flopped to rest in the shade. Her wriggling attempts to find a comfortable position caused a muffled chuckle from Kisame as he tugged his shirt over his head. Finally finding a suitable arrangement lying on her stomach, arms crossed in front to cushion her head, legs splayed awkwardly, she turned to say something but seemed to lose track of what that thing may have been when she glanced at the expanse of muscle above her.

Her ogling was very clear, Kisame smirked, “You see something you like?” he asked.

Partially hidden by her arms was an impressed grin, and her eyes stayed right where they were as she simply replied, “Duh”. The complete lack of shame made him laugh as he decided to indulge her by giving a few flexing poses, to her absolute delight. Itachi, who was quite used to their casual flirting, ignored them and closed his eyes for a chance at a light nap.

Shuffling out of his pants and stooping to fold them with his shirt and lay them on a rock to keep them from getting sandy, he was watched unabashedly by the woman. He was used to this by now, she had never been the type to hide her attraction to him. Instead of her staring making him uncomfortable, it gave his ego a boost, made him feel as attractive as she told him he was. “Tell me how the water is when you get back,” she said, a little more quietly than her normal volume, trying to be more considerate of Itachi’s attempt at getting some shut-eye.

Raising a brow, Kisame looked at her, “You could come along and find out for yourself” he tempted, following her lead in lowering his voice slightly.

In a less objectifying way, she glanced down at his underwear and gave a light laugh, “I don’t know if I feel comfortable swimming in my underwear” she answered.

This made Kisame chuckle, “It’s not as though it’s something I haven’t seen before,” he argued. He glanced at Itachi and added, “and Itachi’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t dare to make a woman uncomfortable by gawking at her in a state of undress.” Itachi didn’t react other than continuing to ignore their chatter, but this was the clearest sign showing that he had no particular desire to ‘gawk’ as Kisame had mentioned. He glared humorously at her, “Unlike someone else I know.” She giggled but looked as though she was considering his offer, before settling her head down in her arms properly.

“Too tired to swim,” she mumbled into her arms, “Later.” She finished.

That was good enough for Kisame, the lapping of the waves against the shore finally drew him away from the shade and his tired companions. The scorching heat had been forgotten as he undressed in the shade, but the short distance to the water had reminded him why he had so badly wanted to reach the cool ocean before. Splashing water sprayed his ankles as he took a testing step into the clear water. The feeling was already refreshing, but as he waded further in, eventually reaching waist-deep before diving under completely, he felt the familiar calm of the ocean, of what he truly considered home. Opening his eyes he could see the sandy, seaweed-covered ground better than most with his specially developed eyes. Tiny fish swam away from his kicking legs and powerful arms, yet more kept swimming closer, curious as they were. His lung capacity was greater than most, but gills served as nothing more than decoration, and he was forced to come up for air after a few minutes of swimming along the seafloor. Breaking the surface, he let himself float on the gentle waves, basking in the sun for a short while, before taking a breath and submerging himself again. After all the time on land, he had begun to miss the weightlessness of the ocean. Sometimes he wished he was fully adapted for the salty sea waters, he felt as if he was a mistake on land, a fish out of water.

It seemed as though the body of water felt the same, as he spotted a black-tipped dorsal fin jutting out of the waves, heading directly for him. Kisame grinned a toothy grin, it had always been something of an uncontrollable talent for him to compel nearby sharks to gather around him. The reef shark wasn’t shy, it brushed against him, curiously drawn to his presence. Kisame carefully ran a hand along the length of its back as it moved past. It playfully flicked its tail, hitting him with a strength he would always admire. It circled him, enjoying the attention, bumping harshly into him. It appeared to be the bravest of its peers, as a few more gathered around him, their rowdiness didn’t make him nervous, instead, he enjoyed their rough company. The heat of the sun on his face and shoulders pushed him to once again dive into the deep blue. His new companions swam around him, curiously following as he dove deeper, giving him enough space to maneuver freely. Once he could seat himself on the sandy floor, he casually performed the signs for a basic water jutsu, creating a small whirlpool that caught the playful sharks and sent them spiraling quickly to the surface. Once the jutsu was released, they swam back, excitedly nudging him as they swarmed, the equivalent of a group of children surrounding an adult asking them “to do that again!”, and he indulged. When the pain in his chest was too much to ignore, he breached the surface of the waves to gulp greedy breaths of air.

By now his only company was not simply the blacktips, but they had been joined by a bulky and brutish bull shark that preferred to simply swim close, avoiding Kisame’s jetstreams and whirlpools. Lurking nearby in the slightly murky distance were a few hammerheads that were still hesitant to get too close. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been out in the deep, so he gave the bull a firm palm to the nose as a farewell and began the short distance back to shore. As much as Kisame yearned to belong fully to the sea, he couldn’t swim forever, and his companions waiting ashore wouldn’t be leaving without him.

Closer to the beach he could spot her walking in the shallows, still fully clothed, just cooling her legs. The sun wasn’t as high as before, and he was sure it had cooled down some by now, but standing in direct heat was most likely to still be less preferable than the shade. He wondered if she was waiting for his return. The beaming smile on her face when she noticed his approach made it clear that was exactly what she was doing, and Kisame couldn’t help but grin back in earnest. She waded further in, stepping carefully, avoiding the mushy seaweed and pointed stones till she was deep enough for the water to just miss the bottom of her shorts. He bridged the gap between them, getting close enough to speak without shouting. “Was napping with Itachi too boring for ya? Or did you just miss me?” he teased.

She gave a soft laugh, “Itachi’s not boring” she insisted. “I was just a little worried about you”.

Had he really been gone that long? Covering up the fact that he was flustered by her care for him, he reached a dripping hand to ruffle her hair in a teasing gesture, which she annoyedly huffed at, batting his hand away before running her own hands through to organize the dampened strands. “Worried about lil’ ol me?” he joked, “Did you think I was gobbled up by a giant sea monster? I thought you knew I was big and strong.” His forced grin returned to a normal one when she rolled her eyes at him.

“Of course not!” she replied exasperatedly, and then a bit more curiously, “I just wonder what you do out there for so long.”

The look on her face was simply too cute to deny her curiosity. It was probably a bad idea, but knowing her, she would definitely enjoy the experience. He debated on the idea for a short moment, which piqued her interest further. Her pleading look ended the mental debate. “Come into the water and I’ll show you.”

“But I’m already in the water” she teased, gesturing at the gentle rolls of the tide around her legs.

He rolled his eyes, unamused. “You don’t trust me?” he baited, and of course she took it.

“Of course I do!” She said frustratedly, followed by a dramatic sigh, “Just give me a moment to save my clothes, jeez I was just kidding.” Her obvious sincerity was just so refreshing to him, he couldn’t help but pick on her sometimes. Even when she was upset with him, she always made sure he knew how much she cared. He followed her, not even trying to hide the gloating grin he wore when she pouted over her shoulder at him.

The sun had shifted enough that the spot they had chosen before was now in direct sunlight instead of the shade, and Itachi had either never fallen asleep, or had awoken to the uncomfortable heat and had retreated further into the shadows to read instead. Despite what Kisame had said to her before about Itachi not looking at her undressing, he couldn’t help but keep watch on his young partner. Sure, he knew Itachi quite well, but for her comfort, and, admittedly, his own, he felt a bit protective. Folding her clothes and placing them next to Kisame’s on the now Sun-bathed rock. Faking confidence, she walked beside him, heading towards the water. Her body language was stiff, but she seemed determined to ignore how she flushed slightly at her inappropriate swim attire.

Reaching the water and wading far enough to conceal her form made her noticeably more relaxed. “So, what was soooo incredible that forced me to strip for you?” she joked, reminding him just why they were there.

Grinning down at her, he fell backward into the water and swam away facing her still, deciding a verbal response was not quite needed just yet. She huffed, but her curiosity made her follow his lead, swimming towards him, not quite managing to bite back the smile playing on her lips. They swam mostly in silence for a short while before he decided they had gone far enough from shore. She was attempting to hide how tired she was, but he knew that even with her determination she wouldn’t be able to keep above water for much longer. Reaching for her he arranged her comfortably in one arm, laughing off her protests. “Don’t worry about it Guppy, I don’t mind swimming for the both of us”, he assured before adding in a more serious tone, “and the water’s about to get a bit rougher than you can manage anyway”. This made her pout fade away into a more curious expression. She didn’t seem scared, but he felt her grip on his arm tighten in preparation for what was coming.

It took a moment, but when a bulky head brushed against his legs he heard her gasp. He felt worried then, that this had been a mistake, that she would freak out, but when he looked at her face, her look of wonder erased his doubts. Another shark bumped into them as it passed, a bit rougher than the last, but this just made her chuckle breathily as she watched it fade away into the deep. These blacktips were still young, only a few feet long, smaller than the ones from before, but as they started to get rougher as they grew more excited, Kisame gave them a few firm pushes on their snouts as a deterrent, but this only worked for a short while, as they once again circled the pair, brushing past them. Kisame felt one of her hands leave him to reach into the water to brush gently against them, careful to keep her hands clear of any teeth. Just as she would with a cat or a dog, she cooed as she ran her hand along the length of their backs, and giggled when one got too excited and snapped at the tail of another. Cute as it was to her, it was a sign to Kisame that he should put some distance between them and her before they got too nippy.

“I’m gonna need my hand back, so you might wanna hang on” he warned before letting go of her to flash a few hand signs that caused a pulse of water to flush the swarming reef sharks away. With the space he gave them, she adjusted her hold, while he readied himself for another jutsu. Like before, he formed a small whirlpool and sent it towards the sharks, sending them whizzing around in a flurry of current. Beside him his companion was in complete awe, watching the sharks regain their bearings as the jutsu faded. Confidently grinning, he completed the signs for another jutsu, this time, it was a geyser that sent the sharks up a couple of feet above the water, giving his companion a good look at the creatures she adored before they dove safely back down. He expected the starstruck look on her face, but he hadn’t expected it to be directed at him. He could feel his face flush as he performed his next jutsu.

-

They left when a couple of bigger sharks joined them, she looked disappointed, but she didn’t protest, something Kisame was thankful for. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and they still had some traveling to do before they could set up camp. Maybe some other time he could let her meet a white shark. When they reached the sandy shore and walked towards their clothes, he knew he had made the correct decision. It was easy for her to forget how tired she was when she was watching fish fly, but he could tell their swim had tired her out again. Still, she was uncontrollably grinning like a child, and her earlier embarrassment over her state of dress was forgotten as she asked “How do you do that? Do you summon them or something? That was so cool!”

Taking a subtle glance at Itachi, who was still reading in his spot in the shade, he passed her her clothes. “No, I didn’t summon them, although I can summon sharks. I’m not really sure if this is true for all in the Hoshigaki clan, but all of my family members have been able to draw sharks to them passively without summoning” he answered. She seemed fascinated as she stared up at him.

While struggling to put her clothes over top of her wet underwear and damp skin she continued “Does it work with all sharks? Are they always that friendly?” She hesitated before adding, “Has one ever hurt you?” She asked the last part concernedly.

“No, not really,” he assured, “I've had a few nips from some smaller ones, and a few bruises from the bigger ones, but they've never been aggressive towards me”. The look of relief that came across her face made him unconsciously relax as well.

“I’m glad they're friendly, even though they're a little rough when they play. It would probably be a problem whenever you went to the beach otherwise” she laughed. “Though,” she paused to consider a thought, “I guess if you drew them too close to a public beach you could easily terrorize the public by accident.”

The idea of him even going to a public beach was laughable to him, but the idea of him drawing a group of sharks to the shallows of a crowded beach was a dream he was now tempted to make a reality. He chuckled “Never thought of that, but I think that's a pretty quick way to get myself a private beach.”

Giggling and fixing her hair as best as she could, she waited as Kisame finished redressing before they gathered their belongings and joined Itachi. Without sparing them a glance he bookmarked his page and slipped the novel back into his pack. Kisame noted how far along in the story the younger man was and decided to make a bookshop one of their next stops. Adjusting his cloak, Itachi stood and acknowledged their presence, “Did you enjoy your swim with the sharks?” He asked, queuing the excited retelling of her experience. As they made their way over the rocky cliffs back to the road, she gushed about how cute the sharks had been, drawing a rare, faint smile on Itachi’s lips, something that Kisame after years of being around the man still wasn’t used to seeing. All three of them were still tired from their travels, but their short beach stop had reinvigorated their mood, and their comfortable chatter kept them entertained till they set up their camp and turned in for the night.

[angelrider13]

A Barren Sea of Sun-Bleached Bones

Sooooooo this is something that I’ve been thinking about off and on for a while now and given that I’ve had literally nothing better to do at work because everything has gone cuckoo bananapuffs, have some rambles! (*pokes @hamelin-born because it sounds like you’re also having a rough time lately and could use a pick me up*)

-

When Thalassa wakes up in a desert with twin suns beating down on her, her first thought is ‘this might as well happen’. Her second thought is ‘why the fuck is this happening?”

(Titan, brother, why would you do this to me? When did I wrong you???)

She has no idea where she is and eventually she succumbs to the heat. When she wates, she finds herself in the care of a woman who introduces herself as Shmi Skywalker and explains that her husband, Cliegg Lars, found her unconscious in the desert.

She’s in Star Wars. On Tatooine of all places. Because of course she is. In her first life, Thalassa wasn’t overly familiar with story - she’d seen the first 6 movies, a few episodes of the various cartoons here and there, but she knows that there is a wider knowledge base that she never looked twice at and is therefore missing.

What she does know is this: Tatooine is run by slavers.

Tatooine is a slave planet and everyone knows but no one cares enough to stop it.

Well then.

Thalassa settles in and recovers and gets to know her rescuers. With Shmi married to Cliegg (happily so and by her own choice, Thalassa checked), it’s clear that the timeline is somewhere between Episodes 1 and 2. Something she doesn’t particularly care about much aside from the fact that it means war has not broken out. Yet. Meaning that larger entities will not yet be putting much effort into winning the Hutt’s favor - which in turn means that no one will be looking to closely at the Outer Rim desert planet. Or that, if they do, they will look the other way. As always.

So Thalassa stays and watches and explores and learns. She helps around the homestead, walks through the cities. She makes note of who owns slaves and who doesn’t. She observes any slave quarters she comes across. She grows close with Shmi and Cliegg ad teases young Owen about his budding romance with Beru.

And sometimes, she just walks out into the desert and disappears for days, weeks.

There are echoes, you see, all round the desert. A song on the wind, screams in the shifting sands. Tatooine wasn’t always a Desert. Many, many, many, moons ago, it was a Sea. And that is not something easily forgotten. Deserts aren’t so different after all - their shifting sands hide treasures as easily as waves and their memories stretch just as long.

It is for this reason that Thalassa has lasted as long as she had. In another life, perhaps this planet could have been Hers. In this life, it is the echoes of that past that sustain her when she is so far from her own Sea.

Shmi frets over her whenever se returns from these wanderings for Thalassa’s skin is perpetually dry and cracked, splitting open whenever she so much as twitches. Her hair is bleached and brittle and the sands have carved deep lines into her face. (She hasn’t dared changing shapes since she arrived - she suspects she would simply fall apart if she tried.) Shmi continues to rub salves into her skin and Cliegg tries to caution her against further trips, to at least make them shorter, to take more water, something.

And Thalassa smiles because they care, but their little moisture farm would never produce enough water to sustain her. Besides, she can’t stop yet.

“I’m searching for something,” she says.

“What?” Cliegg asks as Shmi bandages her arms, worry shinning in their eyes.

Thalassa smiles wistfully. “A memory.”

-

She finds it eventually. It takes her two years of looking and waiting and listening, but Thalassa finds the heart of the memory, of the Sea. The entrance could have been great once. A temple, perhaps. Or a palace. Or probably none of those things and something else entirely. But is was something once. Something grand. Now it is little more than weathered stone - nothing other than a natural formation if one doesn’t know how to look. It’s a maze of caverns deep underground and Thalassa can see were once great arches and painted tiles and etched columns. The echoes that were only faint whispers on the wind are stronger here - louder, firmer, solid. Real. She can see what once was and what now is. What was once a vast Sea is not little more than a well. A small pool no longer deep or large enough to flow through underground riverbeds.

There is still enough water for Thalassa to submerge herself completely. The water is soothing against her dry, cracked skin - an ancient, dying Sea welcoming one of its own. Thalassa opens herself to this strange-familiar Sea, lets it see all of her and in turn it grants Thalassa the same.

Tatooine was once a water planet - vast and deep and blue. But time marches on and things change as they always do. The slightest of shifts in the chemical makeup of the atmosphere, the gravitational axis tilting a single degree to the left. Small hings. Little things. But a single change is always enough and Tatooine began to dry up until it became as it is today. Thalassa can feel the boundless rage of this dying Sea at the state of its domain today. Not so much the state of its waters - change is what it is and there is no escaping it - but the state its people. Because Seas, regardless of time and place and origin, are the same. Seas are free. And Tatooine has been chained and branded and bound for so long that its people have forgotten any other way to be.

But the Sea remembers.

The Desert remembers.

And it rages at this slight, at this betrayal, at this abomination that has been allowed to fester at among its people so long unchecked.

Very well, Thalassa promises, The infection will be cut out.

Tatooine’s Sea is grateful and offers what is left of its dying depths to the liberation of its children.

Thalassa’s skin knits together, the ever present rash in her throat fades, the dryness in her lungs vanishes. She takes stock, considers, and changes. Scales, claws, a tail. It feels good. The water is not deep enough, vast enough for Leviathan, but she changes anyway, filling the cavern with her massive form. She stretches and twists and basks in her ability to be once more. She changes. Again and again and again. An old woman bent with age, a young boy with scraped knees, a Zabrak male, an elderly Rodian, a Twi’liek woman, a Jawa just because she can. It has been so long. Tatooine’s Sea is laughing at her, she can tell, but she doesn’t mind.

The Desert greets her when she finally emerges, its voice a twin of the Sea’s, different that what she is used to but no less welcome. It reminds her of her stone brother.

-

Thalassa returns to the Lars-Skywalker homestead and Shmi is already pulling out medical supplies before she registers the shine of Thalassa’s hair, the unblemished skin of her face.

“It was a gift,” she explains when Shmi strips her down anyway and runs her hands over smooth skin she swears was falling apart only a week ago.

Thalassa lets them fuss for two days before she wanders off again. She made a promise after all and she’s had time to observe. She knows who is rotten and who is not. The Hutts for one. The most obvious blight. But to cut them out so soon, so quickly, without any plan or safety net would do Tatooine children no favors. One day. But not yet. She must start small. She knows where to go first.

There is a man who live in Mos Entha with a dozen slaves to his name. Thalassa does not claim knowledge of all the races this universe has to offer, but she knows children when she sees them. All of them are young. All of them are pleasing to the eye. All of them are dressed in little more than scraps of sheer cloth.

The man dies that night.

In the morning, Thalassa returns to Shmi and Cliegg with a dozen children of various races peeking out from behind her legs.

“She was like you,” Thalassa tells the children of Shmi before she ushers Cliegg out of the room when Shmi pulls out a scanner and Beru starts setting up medical supplies.

(Thalassa has seen the scar on Shmi’s hip. She knows what used to live under Shmi’s skin.)

Cliegg sets up rooms for the kids without protest and the farm gains a dozen helpers. Owen is a gruff, but protective, older brother. Shmi and Beru are both gentle and patient even when the children finally feel secure enough to start testing boundaries and act out.

This is how it starts.

-

Thalassa cannot bring everyone back to the homestead, of course. But she’s watched. She knows. Slaves are never content to be slaves. And here they are survivors born of both the Desert and the Sea. They will find a way. Secret languages. hidden paths, safe houses. Thalassa does not have to be a member of their community to know.

Slavers start disappearing. The smugglers, the mercenaries, the masters. No one dealing in the trade of sentient beings is safe.

Shmi finally confronts her about it he third time she brings home a group to be de-chipped. Shmi would never turn them away - that’s not in her nature - and Thalassa has provided them with enough funds for the extra mouths (The Desert and the Sea both have their secrets and guard treasures well from outsiders. But not from on of their own.), but she does wonder what, exactly, her friend thinks she’s doing.

“Tatooine used to be a Sea,” Thalassa says when she asks as she looks out in the desert. “Do you know what a Sea is?”

Shmi may have lived in a desert all her life, but she is not stupid and she is a little indignant that Thalassa thinks she might be. “A large body of water,” she answers, keeping the frown out of her voice and off her face.

Thalassa smiles. “You’re not wrong. Most people would agree with you. But I asked what a Sea was, not how to describe it.”

Shmi blinks, thrown by the direction this entire conversation has taken.

“A Sea,” Thalassa continues without looking away from the vast stretch of sand, “is freedom.”

Oh, Shmi thinks.

“Tatooine used to be a Sea,” Thalassa says again, “And such a thing leaves echoes. A Desert is not so different, after all. They are no place for chains and brands and chips.” Thalassa spits the last word as if it is the most vile poison and Shmi wonders if she truly understands what such a life is like to hate it so.

“There is a Sea inside of me,” Thalassa says, turning to look at Shmi with glowing gold eyes, “And it is raging at the way your Sea and Desert have been bound. The have been screaming for so long, Shmi, so long. I will free them even if I have to cut down every slaver myself.”

Shmi believes her. Not only that, but she believe Thalassa ca do it. Her friend has always been an odd one. Human in appearance, but never quite right. Something easy to pass off in a universe such as theirs. But the way she seems to whither in the desert is like nothing Shmi has ever seen. The cracks that once carved themselves into Thalassa’s flesh - and still do whenever she ventures out too far for too long - had never seemed as simple as a reaction to the body’s lack of water or exposure to heat. And then one day Thalassa healed. She healed and she stated wearing different skins. Shmi has heard people start calling her Quyllur of the Many Faces. They have stories about beings like her - whispers passed down in he dark of night while huddled together for warmth. Thalassa does not know these stories. She does not know their language or culture or history. She is something different. But she is something similar enough.

-

Thalassa cleans Tatooine of filth one slaver at a time. None of them can quite figure out why they are being hunted, only that they are. Some try to flee or buy protection. Some even petition the Hutts fir help. But Thalassa is an ancient, death-touched Sea with a pair of twins - a Desert full of screaming winds and barren Sea full of sun-bleached bones - at her back. She can be patient. Water goes where it will and Death come for all in the end. Thalassa will get her way.

-

It happens slowly, quietly, but it happens.

Most people don’t notice at first because they aren’t looking. Who pays attention to slaves after all? That is their first mistake. A slaver should always pay attention and never be comforatable - a slave is never content to be a slave. All it takes is a single moment, a single detail, a single second. But people who assume they have all the power never think like that. And it is always, always, their downfall.

-

The slaves are freed.

The masters are killed.

No one notices.

And then the first Hutt dies.

[haliyam]

interim (v)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 4

Hi again! Forgive me for this chapter and the next few ones, guys. I offer you this art I commissioned and an itty bitty happy-for-a-millisecond Zeke/Reader oneshot in the meantime 😪 (Please notice this I am so happy with it)

As usual, Reader default name Lucy is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background and family name. But feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension!

Chapter 5

“Why are you helping me?”

You grit your teeth, peering over at Zeke as he lets go of your foot. He was helping you stretch, seeing as you’re too fatigued to do it yourself, not to mention you’re covered in a heated blanket and he’s put hot towels over and under your limbs. 

He ignores you, like he’s been ignoring you since he entered your room with all of these items, asking instead whether you wanted help or not. Like he’s been ignoring you since you arrived as a guest at the Yeagers’.

You don’t really like Zeke, and you’re sure he doesn’t like you either. You’re six, after all, with all the confidence the world can offer a child in your position, and he’s twelve, with all the arrogance of a boy already training to become the Beast Titan when the war in the South is over. 

That’s why his help is so strange. And without Mrs. Yeager forcing him into it, too?  It’s suspect, and you’re not even sure you know that word yet.

“Why—”

“Shh,” Zeke hisses, looking very displeased about having to respond in any way while you glare at him. When your brows unfurrow and you continue to stare at him expectantly, he rolls his eyes. Still, he finally speaks again. “Why are you like this, anyway? Aren’t you Magath’s new star would-be candidate?”

You were, until the ideology tests began. You don’t know they’re called that, but you’ve been doing terribly at the written exams which ask why Eldians are the dirt between the toes of  real  humans. Your answers show a well-read knowledge of Marley-sanctioned history, but distinctly lack the Eldian shame that comes naturally to your classmates. 

This is concerning to the program and to command in spite of your potential, so it’s up to your instructors to beat that shame into you by keeping you running for far longer than the others, leaving you out of meals, or shortening your breaks and then making you stay behind so you can do everyone else’s grunt work, especially after you dared to look Captain Magath in the eye the first time your class fell in to formation after the first round of exams. And every other time since, like an idiot. 

“Not anymore,” you answer, struggling to keep his gaze. You don’t really want to talk about this with someone who now must only wait to inherit his Titan. It makes you feel small, and nobody in Marley should have that authority.

Zeke wrinkles his nose. “That’s not an answer. It just seemed like you were doing great… and now you’re a baby that has to be coddled?”

Your glare returns, shame be damned, but the pain that suddenly pulses through your body as surely as your indignation quickly drains it. Your pride and your strength are depleted for the day, and you need to save what remains for tomorrow, when you have to face the instructors again. And besides—Zeke has already seen how weak you are. What’s the point? Tybur pride will do nothing for you now. 

You lower your gaze for once. “Are you going to tell the captain?” 

Zeke stares at you. “No? Why does Magath hate you now, anyway?”

You know why. Because you’re still a Tybur, and you refuse to be nothing. Even if nobody knows it. Even if you feel like nothing right now.

Zeke sighs again—a concession of his own, though that is unknown to you. “Fine. Just... my grandparents will get worried if they hear you crying because you can’t sleep.”

“I wasn’t crying,” you lie. Your body hurts so much that you haven’t been able to stay asleep for very long. You just didn’t think he could hear you crying.

“Sure,” he scoffs. He’s lied, too. It’s difficult to hear much noise inside your rooms from the hall—but you did pass him on the way to the bathroom with those puffy eyes just a little while ago. “Just make sure they don’t see you as pathetic as you look now—they already have enough to worry about. If you have to be pathetic… only do it in front of me. Understand?”

You still want to glare at him, but somehow, his words are almost as much comfort to you as the towels he’s heated for you. You don’t know the last time you let your guard down since the Warrior program began for your class, and you’re so tired. His words, however cold, warm you in your newfound frailty.

“Okay,” you murmur in defeat, relaxing in earnest. Your eyes are slowly starting to close.

“Hey!” he snaps within a whisper, quickly reaching for your shoulder and shaking it. You’re too sleepy to notice his reluctant concern. “Don’t fall asleep wrapped up in all this. It’s just a few more minutes, and then you have to go to the bathroom and put this ointment on your muscles like I told you. Remember?”

You do your best to widen your eyes and shake your head awake. The effort ends with you groaning in pain, but you eventually manage a nod. “I’ll stay awake,” you promise. When he sighs again and pulls the seat out from next to your desk to sit at your bedside, you murmur something else.

He frowns at you. “What was that?”

“I’ll stay awake,” you repeat, “but will you tell me a story?”

--

Are you surprised that Willy is coming to visit? Yes and no. Over the years, Willy has perfected the art of making his presence in your life known while somehow remaining completely absent. The nature of the new Lord Tybur’s existence in your world became immutable the summer after that fateful one, after you came crying to him and to Lara when you could no longer bear the loneliness of ignoring your friends’ letters for an entire year. Willy’s response, as with everything regarding Mila, was to turn away and change the subject. It was Lara who couldn’t resist your tears and confessed it all to you—what father told Willy hours before he became Lord Tybur, and then all she learned when she devoured him.

The new Lord Tybur was furious. It was only the second time in your life you had ever heard your brother so angry—but he never stays that way with you or with Lara for very long, and wouldn’t you have discovered the truth after thirteen years anyway? In true Willy fashion, he only smiled days later and expected you never to mention it again. The fact that you have, many times hence, is part of why your relationship is so frayed.  That and his tendency to appear, shower you with affection, and then shrink at the first sign of trouble. After all, how can anyone expect you to love a man who can’t bring himself to stand up for you?

Your resignation to this is mostly what keeps you from worrying too much the next morning, when Zeke leaves for HQ and you elect to join the Yeagers for market day. Part of it is guilt—apparently you and Zeke now consume much more than you did as candidates, and you want to make sure that you’re paying your share—and part of it is that you still feel ashamed for letting Zeke see you act the way you did last night. You still have to take care not to groan outwardly when you remember how you shrugged him off when he tried to be a friend, or how much you practically wailed into his chest. Never mind how you hid behind him from Mila when he let you, like the coward you are.

“You’re so pathetic, Lucy,” you mutter to yourself.

Standing not far from you by a vegetable vendor, Dr. Yeager glances over his shoulder. “Hmm? What’s that, Lucy?”

“Er—nothing, Dr. Yeager. I was just thinking to myself,” you smile sheepishly. Drawing closer to avoid getting jostled by the crowd, you search over his selection. “Oh! That’s… a lot of potatoes. You don’t need to avoid other items on my account. I’m happy to pay for my share.”

Dr. Yeager chuckles. “No, no. You know how much Zeke likes them. And don’t worry, Lucy, I can carry them.”

“No,” you say slowly, exchanging a look with the vendor when Dr. Yeager gives his smaller basket a faithful pat. You reach for it instead, tugging a little when he stubbornly refuses. “I’m taking these. You can carry some of the fish, but I’ll be taking most of the baskets. Hand them over and I’ll bring these to Mrs. Yeager.”

Dr. Yeager sighs. “Very well, Lucy. But only because I know how much you like carp from our friend down the road.”

You grin, and he lets you take his basket so you can fill your much larger one with (apparently) Zeke’s potatoes. As you part ways so he can go and buy you fish, you set out to find Mrs. Yeager. She should be waiting outside a little cafe not far from the market—Dr. Yeager likes doing most of the groceries nowadays, and Mrs. Yeager’s one very important task is to buy the household’s favorite seasonal dessert: grapes. Unfortunately, the best grapes in the zone market are sold by an old man who has a bit of a crush on her, and he doesn’t like seeing Dr. Yeager if he can help it. Or Zeke. Or you. 

That should be her only task, which is why you’re surprised when you find her with a man and a basket full of cured meats when you arrive. 

The truth is you almost miss her, if not for the sweet sound of her amused chuckle right as you decide to head inside to find her. Walking around the man blocking her from view, you approach. “Mrs. Yeager?”

“Lucy!” she waves. 

Her raised brows tell you she wants you to meet someone; evidently, the man carrying most of her baskets along his arms, wearing an apron over a button-down and slacks with his sleeves rolled up. You turn toward each other at your name, and after a blink or two between the two of you, you realize that the man’s shock is more familiar than you first realized—probably because it’s your second time bumping into each other this weekend. 

“Lucy?” he gawps at you.

You give him the same look. “Kellan? What are you…?”

He follows your gaze to Mrs. Yeager, and the way it dawns on his face is enough for you to trust that this is another funny coincidence. “Oh—” He gestures to her, “I was just helping, er…”

“Mrs. Yeager,” you help him.

“Right, Mrs... You’re Mrs. Yeager?” he asks, glancing at her. It’s clear he’s seen her unmistakable red armband, but it’s not polite to ask which child earned you Honorary Marleyan status. 

Mrs. Yeager is accustomed to his curiosity, which he soon realizes along with his manners with an embarrassed flush that makes you smile. Luckily, she takes over for him with a pat on his arm. “Kellan here was helping me with the meats I bought from his family’s shop. He was just telling me that he’s studying to be a doctor, and I thought, what a coincidence—but it seems you two already know each other! Isn’t he handsome, Lucy?”

Such a pointed question. You and Kellan meet each other’s gazes with mutual embarrassment. 

“You really don’t have to answer that,” Kellan laughs nervously, which helps you snap out of your stupor and look at him. You suppose he is handsome, even with his dark hair mired in sweat and slicked back today. He’s tall, taller than Zeke and maybe even Reiner, with a strong nose and gentle eyes that watch you hopefully in spite of his words.

The Warrior program and boarding school means no one has ever looked at you like that before, and the novelty has excitement blooming in your chest. Maybe a slight pink on your cheeks, too, which you try to hide with a smile. 

“I think so,” you say, his gaze and then his shock making you feel a new kind of brave. “And I have bumped into him a few times. ...Sorry again about yesterday.”

“That’s all right. Bumping into you isn’t so bad,” he says almost smoothly, very nearly matching your courage until he remembers Mrs. Yeager and, as such, his embarrassment. “...You know, because Mrs. Yeager bought so much. I’ve never seen my aunt so thrilled.”

You’ve never been this thrilled either—attractive boys were a constant topic for your peers at boarding school, but then you’ve never had the chance to meet one. You still haven’t. Kellan is an attractive man, a few years your senior and hardly a boy. And you aren’t a liar. He’s very pleasing to look at, especially when his eyes search yours so intently. 

“Of course,” you say, trying not to look nervous when you take a step closer and reach for the baskets he’s holding. “Well, thank you for helping Mrs. Yeager. But I can take those.”

Kellan withdraws the arm holding her basket, giving you a once-over. “What do you mean?”

“Lucy is our guest at home,” says Mrs. Yeager, who looks far too pleased with herself. “Even if she refuses to let us carry our own things.”

“Please,” you feign a sigh. “I haven’t kept up with some training for nothing.” 

Kellan looks confused as he glances between the two of you, but he’s determined when you meet his gaze again. “Lucy,” he begins, “remember that bookstore I mentioned yesterday? I was thinking—did you want to drop by after this so I can show you which books you can start with?”

“Really?” you ask. Perhaps you were hoping to see him again, make a friend or two at campus, but you didn’t think your encounters could actually move past hello and goodbye. But Mrs. Yeager was right. He is handsome, dark-eyed and tall, and the idea of more of those shy smiles is a flattering one. “Well… I’d like that. But I wanted to bring these home first. And aren’t you helping at your aunt’s stall?”

“I can take a break,” he says easily, smile growing just a little more confident. “And I can help you bring these home! You shouldn’t be carrying all these yourself. Er… If that’s all right with you, Mrs. Yeager. And I’d just have to change quickly. Been out here since early this morning.”

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Yeager answers for you, giving you an openly suggestive look. You pretend not to see it, but stifle a smile yourself.

Politely averting his eyes to spare you the embarrassment, Kellan reaches for the basket on your right arm, and for a moment you understand the Dr. Yeager of a little while ago. But you’ve never experienced anyone’s chivalry before, excepting Bertholdt (and he was an angel to just about everybody and he was twelve). You can suffer Kellan’s for now. 

“Thank you,” you say reluctantly. “But only that one. I have my pride to consider, you know.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, readjusting the baskets along his arms. When he shifts them all to just one arm so he can wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his damp hair glistening slightly, you imagine the tales you’ve read of countryside romances at the school library and remember to swoon a little. When he catches you looking and glancing away, Kellan smiles. 

“Where to, ladies?”

--

You find Dr. Yeager with your carp, and he is just as pleased as his wife to have another helper no matter how much he claims he can take another basket of his own. Your fears of Kellan’s talk of med school bringing out unhappy memories in Zeke’s grandfather come to nothing when Dr. Yeager expresses interest in the university system nowadays, and you’re happy to listen to the men converse about Kellan’s plans for specialization on the way home. 

“I’ll get it,” Mrs. Yeager says when you arrive, hurrying to unlock the door, and the three of you file into the house while she keeps it open. To everyone’s surprise, the door to the kitchen is already ajar: Zeke and Porco are sitting at the table, poring over folders together in silence. It seems they didn’t hear you come in.

“Good morning, you two,” Dr. Yeager’s surprised remark shatters their deep focus, and both of them spring out of their seats. They immediately turn the folders over and stack them next to a small paper bag.

It’s Zeke who relaxes first. “Grandpa,” he greets, casually nodding at each of you until he spots Kellan coming in from behind you. He doesn’t notice himself straightening up to his full height.

Before he can ask, Mrs. Yeager beams at the sight of Zeke’s guest. “Porco! What a nice surprise. You rarely come to visit.”

Porco’s suspicious brow slackens into a smile for her. It’s almost sheepish, and if that’s the case, is it really Porco? “Sorry, Mrs. Yeager.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Things have been really busy.”

“What are you two doing here?” you ask, rubbing your arms as you set the baskets down by the counter. You join them standing by the table at Dr. Yeager’s urging. “I thought you worked Sundays.”

It is Porco, because he snorts, only a little more politely since the Yeagers are around. “We were supposed to, until our Warchief realized he left work at home.”

Zeke shrugs helplessly. “It slipped my mind. I hardly ever bring home work.”

Porco remembers that you were the one in a hurry to leave HQ two days ago, prompting Zeke to forgo leaving the files in his office when Boy Wonder decided he would accompany you home, which is seriously stupid because you don’t really need any more babysitting. But then the two of you did pass by the family bakery and Mr. Finger—so he decides to stay quiet for now.

On that matter, anyway. He gestures to Kellan, who is quietly helping Mrs. Yeager unload the baskets. “Who’s the guy?”

You shoot him a reproachful, wide-eyed look. “Porco—!”

“This is Kellan. He’s studying to be a doctor, a few years ahead of Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager interrupts. She hardly knows him and she’s already proud of him, it seems, pushing him next to you by the table. He apologizes when the surprising force of her shove has him bumping into you.

“Right.” You steady him with a hand on his upper arm and are unsurprised to find muscle there. “Uh, Kellan helped us bring the groceries home. We’re heading out in a bit so he can show me some textbooks I can study ahead of time, regardless of which professors I get.”

“Textbooks?” Porco repeats with a chuckle. “Since when do you study, Blanchard?”

“Since a while ago, Galliard,” you say pleasantly, even with your teeth gritted, wondering if it’s possible to burn alive with embarrassment while hoping Porco catches alight himself. When the new Jaw only continues to look amused, you sigh. “Kellan, this is Porco, and that’s Zeke.”

You could announce their last names, but everyone in the zone knows who the Warriors are, and Kellan already seems uncomfortable. You hope it’s not because of Porco’s remark and consider throttling the man.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Kellan says anyway, politely offering his hand.

You hold back when Porco shakes it. It goes on for a little longer than you expect and their knuckles are paler by the end of it, but you suppose that’s better than nothing, which is exactly what Zeke gives when Kellan extends a hand to him next.

“The pleasure is ours,” Zeke says in lieu of doing anything else. He’s smiling, one hand in the pocket of his uniform while the other holds half the stack of folders. “Kellan, right? You’re pretty persistent, huh?”

Kellan presses his lips together as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Zeke stares at him a little longer before he chuckles. “Nah.”

You’re not surprised. Zeke always takes his time warming to people, if he ever does. When he meets your gaze, his amusement softens into something a little more natural.

You smile back, unsure why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden when Mrs. Yeager comes up from behind you. “All right, Kellan, thank you for accompanying us home. Now, off you two go.”

You survey the kitchen counters with a grimace. The groceries still need sorting. “But Mrs. Yeager—” you and Kellan start in unison, and then exchange glances. His light laughter is a little more than charming.

“Ugh,” Porco mutters, echoing more than just his own sentiments. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Yeager says before you can notice. She rounds the four of you to pat the shoulders of Zeke and Porco. “I’ve found two new helpers in your stead. You can spare a few minutes, can’t you, dears?”

Kellan looks to Dr. Yeager. “But—”

“We can handle it,” Zeke cuts him off, but he’s decidedly ignored the man, waving at you instead. “Do what you need to, Lucy.”

“Thanks,” you beam at him, feeling oddly silly. Like a child playing adult as Kellan opens the door for you. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun, kids,” Porco calls out. He chuckles when you glance over your shoulder to shoot him a deadpan look, only to find Zeke giving him the exact same one once the front door clicks shut.

“What?”

--

“I’m sorry about that,” you say as soon as you leave the Yeager household and head down the steps toward the street. You glance back at Kellan, waiting for him to follow. “Zeke and Porco are nice when you get to know them. And vice-versa.”

Kellan nods, looking at you. “You seem close.”

“Yeah,” is all you can say. When you don’t say more, he doesn’t pry. 

He asks to drop by the market again so he can pick up his things and an extra shirt, and you walk in relative silence until you reach it.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, open palms pressing at the air as if you’ll disappear the moment he leaves. It’s cute from someone so much taller than you.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he does too before diving back into the crowd.

You adjust your armband as you back into a nearby building and watch the coming and going of Eldians through the tightly-packed throng. Long ago, during your first foray into one of the zone’s open air markets, you were disgusted and confused. Only your growing regard for the Yeagers and the thought of Zeke’s sarcastic surprise at the little you knew of the world had kept your mouth shut. 

Over the years you came to accept it as part of this temporary home, and market day a time when Eldians could happily interact with familiar faces and keep one another apprised of their trials amid life in the zone. The strong stench of the place became a reminder of this affection you could only find within a community, one completely nonexistent in the grand, empty gardens of the Tybur estate. 

The first summer after you left showed you that to Eldians outside of Marley, the Liberio internment zone—a place you still consider a prison for people you care about, where stepping outside its gates to look for a pharmacy when those in the zone have nothing more to offer can end in a beating—is paradise. It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world, but it’s your world. The world that the Tyburs have allowed to flourish. 

Alone with your thoughts, you find yourself nervous. Why is Willy coming here? Only Mila was ever permitted to come and visit you—but that was when father was still alive. 

Perhaps if Willy sees Liberio, the place that raised you...

You find yourself hopeful. Maybe it was father all along. Maybe Willy isn’t a coward after all.

“Sorry about the wait. Lucy?”

Kellan stands before you, hair no longer damp but brushed down a little more properly. The apron has disappeared in favor of a new button-down, the strap of his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. 

His sleeves are still rolled up. You like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile, readjusting the purse at your side. “Ready to go?”

Kellan nods, and is much more talkative now that he feels more presentable around you. He apologizes for his silence earlier—his own scent was bothering him, and he was embarrassed—and he starts to tell you about university as soon as you ask. 

The bookstore he mentioned is a little far from the Yeagers’, but it is useful. Many are secondhand, but the store is vigilant about keeping only those published in the last five years. It regularly gets donations, perhaps from sympathetic Marleyans, though how they would know about it you can only wonder.

Kellan advises you as to the best books when it comes to basic medical subjects, which are what you’ll be taking up in your first year. In spite of Porco’s little joke, you’re eager to get started working toward that degree. General List’s words may hang over your head, but now that Willy is coming to Liberio, you have time to wait to tell him instead of putting off writing Lara about it. 

“Wow,” Kellan remarks, once you’ve bought everything. “You really are serious about this.”

You glance up at him with a frown you can’t help. “You thought I wasn’t?” 

“It’s not that,” he says at once, holding the door open for you as you leave the shop. He offers to take the books off your hands, but you hold the pile to your chest, waiting for his reply. “No, it’s more—I thought I was the only one who did this kind of thing. Study ahead of the year if I can.”

You relax somewhat at his words. “You do this too?”

Kellan nods, and when he reaches again, you let him take half your books. “My friends made fun of me, but I mean to become a physician. There aren’t enough Eldian doctors to attend everyone in the zone, and… I want to help.”

“I see,” you murmur. Suddenly, Kellan seems a lot more charming than he is already. “I bet you’re at the top of your class or something.”

Kellan only smiles, and you blink at him.

“Are you?”

He looks embarrassed about it the way you know most men in your life wouldn’t be. “One of my professors said if I wasn’t Eldian, I might have been offered a scholarship.”

“That’s amazing,” you say, a mix of admiration and pity swirling in your stomach. You wish you could help him. Do more for a man like this. 

“Yeah, well…” Kellan shrugs, but he easily replaces his bitterness with a smile when he looks at you again. “You have a good study ethic yourself. You’ll do great.”

You can’t help but laugh at that one. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like passing the state exams was a fluke.” 

“You wouldn’t be here if it were.” It’s his turn to frown. “None of us Eldians would.”

You wish that were true. Of course, you took the exams as Lucy Blanchard, and for all intents and purposes Willy had nothing to do with your results. You studied ridiculously hard to earn your grades and the state exam score—it’s just difficult not to wonder when Lord Tybur has always known what you were up to.

“Look.” He stops, moving to stand in front of you. “I know we just met, but—I don’t like hearing you say that about yourself. Okay?”

You can only smile. You haven’t known Kellan for half a day, but you don’t feel like challenging him the way you would the others if they said that to you. It feels like he deserves more than that. “Let’s just say I was always the more sports-oriented type. But thank you.”

Kellan looks at you as though he thinks you might say something self-deprecating again and he’s ready to gainsay it. When you don’t, he nods with approval and looks ahead. “Uh, so I was thinking…”

“What is it?”

“My friends study with me nowadays on university grounds. We’re allowed to, and the university library does have some books the store might not. The cafeteria has great food we don’t have in the zone, too.”

He glances over at you, and when you continue to wait for his point, he asks, “Do you want to study with us, maybe tomorrow afternoon? We have lectures to attend this summer, but I can maybe… pick you up afterward? The permit office will let you if you show them that you’ve confirmed your slot. If you want to,” he adds.

His offer is surprising and exciting and daunting in equal measure, because of course someone wanting to spend more time with you is nice, even if you’re ambivalent about meeting new people. Of course, the new people you met at boarding school knew you as Lucy Blanchard, the daughter of some Eldian servant for the Tyburs, and they were Marleyan to boot. Kellan’s friends are Liberio Eldians too. Maybe they’ll be just like him.

“I do want to.”

His uncertain expression immediately lights up. “Great,” he beams. “Will you be at the Yeagers’ tomorrow?” 

“Uh… yeah,” you answer, after some thought. You’ll be at HQ most likely, but you can always leave ahead of Zeke. “Just tell me what time you’ll arrive and I’ll have my permit ready by then.”

“Okay,” he says, pleased. “That works.”

You exchange smiles, and he walks you back to the Yeagers with a more relaxed silence than when you left. He hands you your books once you’ve unlocked the door to the house.

“I really have to get back to my uncle’s, but…” He scratches the back of his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, right? Maybe… four?” 

“Yeah,” you grin. When he waves, disappearing down the street, you hurry back inside toward the dining room. But it’s empty, with everything sorted in the kitchen. The Yeagers have left a note on the dining table about going out on a Sunday date, apparently presuming you would be out all day, but there’s another note from Zeke on the folded paper bag he and Porco brought home earlier. 

Crybabies only, it says. You thought it was part of Warrior work, but you open it and find a few jars of your old favorite fruit jam.

“Tch,” you chuckle, fishing out the jars and storing them, but you take Zeke’s note and bring it upstairs with your books. 

You get started on a simple lunch soon after. You want to re-wrap your new books in time for tomorrow afternoon, and make a note to replace Mrs. Yeager’s roll of plastic entirely since you neglected to buy your own. Once you get your permit for tomorrow, it’s still early enough that you have time to visit Mr. Finger, especially since you forgot to yesterday, and you end up sharing his dinner. You were embarrassed about dropping in when he was cooking, but he’s happy for the company, especially while Pieck is away.

To your relief, there are no guards in plainclothes outside the Yeagers’ when you return, and Mr. and Mrs. Yeager are in the living room chatting quietly between them. You greet them and hurry upstairs before they can ask you about Kellan, and allow yourself to linger in the bath when your reflection on Kellan inevitably leads to Mila and the night before. 

Given how angry she was yesterday, you already know what she would say to you if she found out about any man like him. Not that you have ever considered sharing your life with anyone, but surely she would accuse you of trying to find some way out of your duty again, even when she knows that the family made sure—

The doorknob turning to no avail rattles into your thoughts. It must be Zeke, since you share a bathroom, so you hurry to get out and get dressed into your pajamas again. Once you’ve brought your things to your room, you give his door a knock.

He opens it pretty quickly. It seems he wasn’t expecting you, because he looks surprised to see you still drying your hair with your towel. On his part, he’s still in his uniform—just without the coat and the belt, one side of his shirt unceremoniously tucked out of his pants. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smile, more pleased than you should be. You feel like you’ve been waiting to see him all day. “Was that you? I’m done with the bathroom.”

“Ah. Thanks. I’m still finishing something anyway,” he nods, and leaves the door open when you don’t immediately turn and go.

You follow him inside, flopping at the edge of his bed while he goes to his desk again. “What are you working on?”

“Warrior stuff.”

Something must have him in a mood, but there’s no use poking him at this stage. “I saw the jam. Thanks for that.”

Zeke turns away from his desk, his serious countenance lingering just a little before it finally falls away for mischief at the reminder of his little gift. “Like my note?”

“No. And only because it means I’ll have to share it with you.”

“Heh. Yeah, sorry—just putting off turning in paperwork I should’ve gotten done before.” He sighs, obviously trying to settle down, at least until he seems to recall something else. He glances back at whatever he was writing, his pen swaying noisily between his fingers as it hits his desk. After a beat, he slides his work a little further away from him and asks, “How was the date?”

You’d almost forgotten about that. “Oh—it wasn’t a date,” you say, and realize how strange it feels to be discussing a boy with Zeke. “Kellan is just helping me study ahead of the semester.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, like a promise. You don’t care to mention that you’ll spend time with Kellan and his friends tomorrow afternoon. That was implied, right?

Zeke shrugs, sitting back against his desk chair. “When did you get so fond of studying, anyway?”

You shoot him a dirty look. “The way you and Porco tell it, it’s like I didn’t know how to read.”

“No,” he laughs, making the denial sound a lot more like affirmation, “I just mean you hated it. Before Bruning knew who you were, you were in the running for either the Jaw or the Armor for a reason.”

You peer at him. When Zeke only lifts a brow, challenging you to deny it, you click your tongue. “I guess. But I didn’t inherit anything, so what was I supposed to do? I was never interested in the varsity teams… not that they would have let me join as Lucy Blanchard. And I wanted to be useful somehow. I mean, actually useful.”

“I know,” Zeke says, watching your fingers lightly pinch at the hem of your pajama top in frustration. It’s almost amusing how your tells haven’t changed a bit, but he can’t deny that it’s endearing.  “Well… I’m glad you’re doing something apart from getting me in trouble for once.”

Your jaw drops. “I never got you into trouble for that long, did I?”

The two of you meet eyes for a moment, knowing the answer to that, but you both choose not to bring it up. He wouldn’t put you through that memory again.

“I don’t know,” he grins. “How long did I stand there getting an earful when you glued Nickel’s belt together?”

You stare at him, genuinely trying to remember—before you burst into laughter, hand over your mouth in sheer horror at the memory, as though you can’t fathom ever having done such a thing. Zeke is shaking his head, trying not to smile, when you finally calm down enough to present your defense. “That—that was Pieck’s idea!”

“No, Pieck said she wanted to do it. You actually did it.”

“But it was funny,” you grin. “And Nickel deserved it. Besides, I paid for that too.” 

“Yeah…” Zeke’s smile falters. He remembers. You had been about this close to being force-fed the glue you used that afternoon, when you found one of Magath’s fellow instructors asleep in his office. “Nickel deserved everything that came to him.”

He remembers what you looked like when they found you, busted lip still stubbornly set in a line, trembling as Pieck shed silent tears when Magath dragged Nickel out of sight. But then your foot nudges his leg, pulling him from his reverie so he remembers what you look like now. Not a bruised or bloody memory that still wakes him at night sometimes, covered in sweat, but Lucy in the flesh, with a knowing expression on your pretty face. Zeke supposes he’s just as easy to read when you know his tells, too. 

“Well... sorry about that anyway,” you say. “Pieck had a name for my brand of stupidity for a reason.”

Zeke knows what you’re doing. He grants it to you with a sigh. “No sense of self-preservation.”

“That. Don’t worry—I’ve developed one since then. Or Pieck’ll really give up on me this time.”

You give him a smile, as if he’s the one who needs comforting when it comes to that night. Why did he have to bring it up? He would put his foot in his mouth if that didn’t remind him of Paradis—of his most recent nightmare. The thought of everything you don’t know makes him feel like an ocean separates the two of you all of a sudden. Like you’re here, and he’s still on that island, a blade jammed into his maw. He shivers. 

You lean a little closer, elbow on the footboard. Of course you’ve noticed. “What’s wrong?” 

Leaving his pen on the desk, Zeke moves over to sit next to you on his bed. If nothing else, he can at least shorten the distance in one way. 

He has a lot to tell you, Paradis foremost of them all. He knows Pieck must have said something, but he’s managed to avoid the topic so far. 

He has a lot to ask, too—what was normal school like? Did you really not have any friends? You seemed to make easy enough friends with that Kellan character.

Zeke looks at you like he wants to say something, and then gets as far as opening his mouth before clearly thinking better of it. 

“It’s Pieck.”

Alarmed at his tone, you inhale sharply. “What about Pieck? Is she all right?”

He was holding his breath himself, but he relaxes with a chuckle.

“Yeah. She’ll be back with the Panzer Unit in less than a week.”

“Oh! Good,” you say, but then stare at him, obviously catching the lie in his old answer now. But he sees it when you shift priorities (Pieck was always one of them)—you’re clearly excited to have her home earlier than she promised, but the why of it is giving you pause. “So soon?”

“Yep.” He shifts away so that he’s moving up his own bed, at least until he catches you giving him a disgusted expression. You can’t stand it when someone still in their  out  clothes wears them to bed, and he knows that very well. That earns you an eyeroll, but you’ve had so many arguments about it at this point, many of which began with well it’s my bed and which ended only because he couldn’t stand hearing you talk any longer, that Zeke only sighs and practically vaults himself off his sheets so he can grab a change of clothes before you can start.

He makes a twirling motion with his finger when you look, and you turn to face the wall. This must be the quickest that Zeke has ever grabbed or changed his clothes outside the rush of Warrior training as a kid. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly conscious with you in the room. It’s just you.

“You know it doesn’t count if you don’t shower, right?” you ask.

Zeke makes a snorting sound as he climbs back onto his bed in a shirt and a pair of pajamas, even if he feels like he’s twelve wearing the whole get-up right now. This time he ignores you until he’s got his back against his pillows and the headboard, legs stretched out over his blanket and his arms crossed over his stomach. “Do you want to know why Pieck is coming back soon or not?”

Your turn to roll your eyes. “Fine.” 

Smiling triumphantly, he pulls out one of his pillows and tosses it on the empty space next to him. You wrinkle your nose at him, but he did give you the clean pillow when he’s given you the other before, so you let yourself fall forward on your stomach and rest your head on your arms, both crossed over his pillow. Your hair looks warmer than usual against the light of his lamp as you peer up at him. “So?”

Zeke looks away and shrugs. He shouldn’t be telling you this. But if his room isn’t safe for secrets, then where is? “One reason. Lots of movement in the south these days.”

Between the old Southern borders of Marley and Ulodana lies its new Southern territories, swept off the board by Marley and into its net in years past through the efforts of the Warrior generation before yours. Mr. Ksaver’s, to be exact, before they started training children. You had heard of minor attempts at guerilla warfare within those former nations in their bid for freedom, but little else. After your summer excursion with Mila, you began to distance yourself from news of the world when it came to Marley’s expansion, the Warriors’ activities especially so. Ignorance was better than guilt back then, but Zeke doesn’t know that.

“The South… you quelled a small rebellion there, right?”

“Yeah, but…” One of his hands drums near your pillow, tugging once at its corner as he asks, “You don’t know?”

“The Tyburs aren’t told everything.”

“Fair enough. Between the two of us,” he says, giving you a meaningful look you return with an earnest nod, “a couple of the leaders escaped into the eastern peninsula. Who knows what support they’ve gotten since then?”

You take a deep breath and hum as you exhale. “...That explains why General List reached out to me.”

“List? He’s the one who called the meeting with you?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “Didn’t the commander say he was there?”

“He doesn’t tell me everything. So have you decided?”

You almost look amused. “You know I can’t move without Willy’s say-so.”

He shrugs. Needless to say he doesn’t care all that much for the new Lord Tybur, who sounds just as absent as your old man was back then. “I meant what do you want?”

When your surprise at his question starts to fade, you lower your gaze at his quirked brow, slouching a little. “I don’t know. List wants me to… ‘be the new face’ of the Foundation. Distance it, myself from the regime so we can build headquarters abroad and bring in intelligence. That way we can bring more Eldians into the safety of the organization, but...”

“What?” Zeke snaps, sitting upright all of a sudden, but all the reasons you shouldn’t do it skid to a halt behind his teeth when you recoil in surprise. He pauses, clearing his throat, and reaches up to scratch behind his ear instead. “...would your brother put you in danger like that? What about Tybur non-involvement?”

You scoff, eyes narrowed at nothing you can see here. “That’s not what the general thought. He only said Willy wouldn’t do it to Mila.” Zeke grunts at her name, and you shake your head. “I mean… maybe it’s moot. She would never give up control of the Foundation.”

“Yeah... Maybe.” Maybe it’s enough that you’re ambivalent. General List is one of General Calvi’s close allies, and he’s well-known in certain circles to get what he wants. But even he can’t change the century-old tradition of Tybur ‘neutrality,’ even if part of Zeke is curious to see if Mila Tybur or Hulbart List would win in a battle of wills.

He sets that aside when he catches a distant look in your eye. He’s only ever seen one reason you’ve looked like this. Or two. “She didn’t drop by again today, did she?”

You shake your head. “She had Foundation business yesterday. She must have gone from the city last night the minute she left here.”

“Then what is it?”

You look at him, and now he knows what it is. “I just… ugh,” your eyes fall to his sheets. “I don’t know. I was so pathetic yesterday. I wish I—I wish that I could have said something to her.” Your voice is quieter when you add, face flush with embarrassment, “I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

“This again,” he says at once. It was difficult not to cut you off from the get-go. “Have you forgotten already? If you have to be pathetic…” He reaches over to graze your chin with the curve of his index finger, tilting it forward so that you meet his gaze. “You can be pathetic in front of me. Understand?”

His soft smile is the same as it was in the hallway yesterday. Warm still, like the solid expanse of his chest when you wept in his arms, but suddenly his finger beneath your skin feels hot. Tingles where he touches you. Like your face, now that he’s looking at you like that. 

That’s not right. Zeke is either an annoying jerk who should shut his face forever or all comfort, blankets tucked up to your nose after a grueling day of work and a warm bath; a good night’s rest. Wrapped up in a hot blanket, the murmur of his voice lulling you into a deep and restful sleep. Not standing over a precipice with only the whim of the wind behind you or the rush of blood pounding through your ears without warning. 

This is not the Zeke you’ve wanted back for the past six summers.

His touch scalds you—or maybe the memories you keep closest to your heart, as if any closer, any longer and it might burn them away forever. 

You tremble, but not with pain, and decidedly ignore it as you stare at him, forcing a slight wince on your mouth. You hope he doesn’t notice you gulp. “That was probably more impressive when I was a kid.”

Zeke lets his jaw drop—it must have been a while since anyone denied him their awe—but he only laughs, so deep and hearty you feel his mirth in your own chest, before he flicks a finger at your nose. “You little ingrate. That was supposed to be touching!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grin, a little too widely for your own good. Batting away at his hand, you sit up and slide off his bed. You’re strangely hyperaware of the way you gulp again once your feet find your slippers. When your eyes meet, he’s pretending to be cross with you. Maybe you like it better that way. 

“But thank you,” you say, rubbing an arm. “Really.”

Zeke only nods, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as you head for the door. “Lucy—you still coming to HQ tomorrow?”

You glance back only once you’ve got your hand on the doorknob. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he says, but he looks pleased. “All right, get out. Distracting me from work and then telling me I’m not impressive anymore…”

“Spend more time with the kids. They still think the world of you. Good night!”

Zeke could probably chuck a pillow at you when you give him a little cackle before shutting his bedroom door, but he lets you escape with your dignity intact. 

At any rate, he’s in a much better mood when he gets back to work.

////////

If you're worried about Kellan, you can click the fic list link on my bio for spoilers. (assuming you haven’t already read the other oneshots ahahha) 

The flashback at the start of the chapter (as well as the others in the next few chapters) is something of an edited excerpt from a long-ass oneshot I wrote detailing Lucy’s childhood from before she left the Tybur estate, going through her Warrior training, and until a little after the time Lara inherited the War Hammer which I was/am debating with myself about editing&posting maybe after finishing the sequel fic to this which occurs during the Mid East-Marley War. I wondered if I should keep flashbacks out except for 2 crucial flashbacks toward the end of the story, but I’ve been sad about the dumb leaks post-139, having this feeling of ‘what’s the point of all this then if it all ends in that’ (even if this will be canon divergent), and I decided I would like to show the most important bases for Lucy’s relationships with at least Zeke and Pieck before she left, plus editing this in made me happy, so yeah.

Also! I know Zeke was a sweet little boy... but he was alienated by his classmates when he did poorly at first and burdened with expectation his whole life. No doubt that alienation shifted to sudden praise, admiration, or jealousy as soon as he became a candidate, and my hc is it made him a cynical kid when it came to others his age and even older people. Of course, he does eventually learn to be more charming (or annoying) and does have friends (as much as you can have friends in his position and with his life view), but that to me is why he’s like that at 12. Mr. Ksaver is exempt from this obviously as he completely trusts the man.

Another note: This is tagged zeke x reader because it’s in 2nd person POV, but also zeke x oc because reader or Lucy has a set background and family name. If you've gotten this far in interim I'm sure you already know what that is. XD So... please don’t send me hate or frustrations about why she looks like she does in the commissioned art I linked in the top of this chapter. Her family name necessitates that she’s white, I'm sorry. I hate having to say this but I'm not white either, or white-passing or w/e, but as I said in my note in chapter 1 I want to write a Tybur OC. If you’re going to send hate about me making a Barbie doll to complete Zeke or whatever I’m just going to delete it. Lucy is much more than that, in fact Zeke is not an entirely positive force in her life though they may appear to implicitly understand one another, and I have an entire background story and development for her that I‘m excited to write and share. I’m (not) sorry if me taking the time out from that to commission art that makes me happy grinds your gears. Of course I hope that readers will enjoy what I've written for myself but if you don't like it, just click away please. I won't be responding to complaints about that from here on out.

Anyway, thank you as always for reading! Would love to hear what you think. Of the flashback, of Kellan, of Zeke, of Lucy's blatant denial of certain things (I love and hate this), whichever! (Also can you tell I love Porco? He notices everything. Or almost everything.)

[kestrelmando]

Group Therapy - Oneshot

Inspired by this post by thecyndimistuff (@thecyndimistuff ), apollonkondric , and  floatingearth about Peli Motto taking Din to a support group for empty nesters post S2. 

Warnings/Notes: None, possible a single swear word slipped by. Angsty, introspective Din and space mom Peli Motto taking charge. No romantic pairings, not beta’d please excuse any mistakes until I find them. Couldn’t help to slip a nod my other Mando fic Bird of Prey, Way of War in at the end. 

---

He’s tried being useful around – what were they calling it now? Fett’s Palace? – the palace; taking stock of weapons and resources left behind by Jabba and Fortuna. Weapons he’s familiar with; taking them apart, servicing them, and testing them gives him something to keep him busy and keep his mind occupied.  

He even took to sometimes mirroring Fennec’s imposing, protective place – on the left on Fett, never the right that was Fennec’s earned spot – on the dais when Fett had meetings because no, you should not fuck with the legendary bounty hunter but especially when he’s got a sharp shooting assassin on one shoulder and another infamous bounty hunter clad head to toe in beskar on the other.

He’s done perimeter sweeps with Fennec, who chooses to humor his morose silence, and with Fett, who also allows the silence but is far less indulgent about it. Oh, Fett never calls him out on it. Quite the contrary, bounty hunter to bounty hunter he can read Din like a book and knew from the moment he returned to the Slave that he was not ok. Still wasn’t ok but that doesn’t stop the occasional long drawn sigh from the older man.

All in all, it took a week for Din to be sent to Mos Eisley to ‘pick up supplies’. He wasn’t stupid; he knew Fett could’ve sent anyone working for him to go on a supply run. He initially welcomed the change of scenery before remembering he’d have to travel hours around the Great Mesra Plateau and his only options of landscape were either endless sand or the red rock formations and canyons.

So Din dutifully took a land speeder and set off to Mos Eisley, trying to ignore the repetitive backdrop that allowed him far too much time to think about his foundling and his accidental acquisition of the darksaber with Fett’s warning still ringing in his ears ‘make sure you take that thing with you’.

 ---

 The supplies, or rather supply, in question was a tiny compressor part for the climate control unit that could fit in his pocket.  The vendor had taken one long look at his beskar and held up a bin of the teeny components after Din asked about it and he was done within half an hour.

…Now what?

He found himself following the by now well-known path to Peli Motto’s hanger. She was familiar territory, she was easy to talk to and almost painfully transparent. Perhaps most importantly in this moment; she wanted nothing from him.

The door to Peli’s outbuilding slid open for him and he wandered in, hands painfully empty, and let the pit droids fuss over him. Tatooine’s hot suns greeted him as he stepped into the hanger bay, eyes scanning for the mechanic. The hanger was empty, no parked ship in sight, and the mechanic was elbow deep in a pile of scrap muttering to herself and passing parts and pieces to a pit droid.

Din smiled under his helmet when she tossed a piece of scrap away from her with a huff and it landed near his feet. She turned her head briefly to see where it landed and then whipped it back towards him, hand flying to her heart.

“Stars Mando!” She sat back on her heels and blew out a breath. The mechanic frowned, “Where’s your ship?” Peli stood, dusting her knees and palms off, and took a few steps towards him with a hand pressed above her eyes to block the suns. She looked him over and then stopped dead in her tracks, “Where’s…where is the baby?”

He felt his throat close around any words he was going to say. Peli’s eyes darted around his body; around his hips for the bag, his feet for the little one to pop out around him at any second. She opened her mouth to say something, her face drawn tight, when he simply couldn’t keep up his stoic façade any longer.

A short hiccup, somewhat garbled by the vocoder of the helmet, slipped out followed by a low keen he couldn’t bear to swallow. Din shut his mouth with a snap, a flush creeping up his neck while his hands closed opened and closed around nothing – empty. Peli’s eyebrows rose in concern momentarily before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before slowly extending her hand towards him. Her fingers closed around his elbow, shoulders losing their tense line when he didn’t protest, and guided him back towards the outbuilding.

Din let her steer him to a small table in the corner and ease him into a chair. She disappeared around the corner momentarily and was back with a bottle of boga noga and two small cups. Peli sank into the chair opposite him and poured a couple fingers the Hutt ale. She curled her hands around her drink and looked up at him, face pinched.

“Just tell me first; is he ok?”

He took a deep breath that sounded strained through the beskar, “Yes.”

Peli visibly deflated as her shoulders sagged in relief, “Oh thank the Force.” She muttered before taking a sip of her ale, wincing a bit.

Despite the lump in his throat, he felt the corners of his mouth quirk upwards in the beginnings of a fond grin. Din swallowed, “His name is Grogu.”

She cocked her head, thinking on the name, and smiled. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes and watched the pit droids scurry about the hanger through the viewport. Eventually, she flicked her eyes back up the Mandalorian and asked, “What happened?”

He paused and wondered if it was safe to tell her more than sparse nonspecific details. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; quite the opposite she’d shown herself to be a loyal friend and Din had already entrusted Fett and Shand with the whole story. But Peli was different – she wasn’t a fighter. Still, Moff Gideon was in the custody of the New Republic and Grogu was safe with Skywalker. He supposed it was safe enough.

So he laid it all out for her and once he started he found that he couldn’t stop. He talked about the bounty from the remnant Imperials on Grogu and how the kid had saved his life with the Mudhorn, how he took on the task of keeping him safe as his foundling and out of the hands of those who would hurt him and use him. To their short time on Sorgan and how Grogu terrorized the local wildlife, how he was tasked by his alor to reunite him with other Jedi.  Din told her of his meetings with the Jedi Ahsoka Tano and Bo-Katan, interspersed with a quick and bastardized history of the Mandalore.

He had to pause when he got to Tython. His voice was caught in a steel trap in his throat.

Din considered the shot of ale and tipped the helmet back just enough to not spill it all over himself before downing it. He immediately understood Peli’s grimace when she sipped on hers; it was sweeter and fruiter than he was used to but it was unbearably strong. His eyes watered at the burn. Her gaze flicked to his exposed chin momentarily before darting away and she finished hers too, coughing a little.

She rose her eyebrows at him and he knew what she was thinking; I didn’t think you were allowed to do that.

He continued quietly – Tython, Grogu’s capture, and the Razor Crest getting destroyed. Din covered Morak as clinically as he could and felt the need to explain a bit more about his creed to the mechanic. She watched him carefully and frowned when he began to get hung up. Din gestured uselessly next to her, “I – it should have been a bigger deal. It should have meant everything but I – the kid –“

Peli gently laid her hand on his forearm. His helmet slowly turned to look back at her but she held her ground and patted his arm. Din pressed on and spoke of Gideon’s cruiser, the rescue, and his accidental acquisition of the darksaber. He haltingly recounted his goodbye to his foundling and slumped back in his chair when it was over.

The mechanic was silent next to him, her hand light on his arm, before she turned to him thoughtfully. “Mando—“

Why the hell not. “Din. My name is Din.”

“Din, you did what you had to do for the little one.” She looked nostalgic, “Parent’s sacrifice for their kids. You can’t understand it, can’t know what you are willing to do until you have one. He needed you and you stepped up. I don’t claim to know to know much about your people but it sounds like you fulfilled your mission.”

Peli stood then, collecting the empty glasses. “You say you’re out near the Northern Dune Sea? How long will you be here?”

He nodded absently, “No more than a few days. I’m returning to the palace soon—“

She whirled back around horrified, one of the glasses slipping from her fingers, “Jabba’s Palace?”

Din caught it quickly, “Fett’s Palace.”

Peli wasn’t appeased. “Fett? Boba Fett?”

“Yes—“

“That bantha brain owes me money!”

Din chuckled, realizing she more annoyed than afraid. Fett owed her money? That sounded like a story. Peli headed back towards the kitchenette with a huff and Din dutifully followed with the other glass. Peli sighed exasperatedly, “I was the only one willing to work on that ship of his for years! No one else would touch it, it sat in that hanger for years and no mechanic was willing to do any maintenance on it – oh Peli what if he comes back – well, what’s he gonna be more mad about? That someone was poking around keeping it running or that we just let it sit and get taken by the sands?’

She took the glass from him and deposited it in the sink, “I spent five years taking care of that rust bucket! He comes back looking like hell with no credits and says he’ll pay me ‘soon’. When is ‘soon’?”

He didn’t give it a second thought; Fett had given him way more credits than he’d needed to pay for the part and he knew that she would be a good resource for Fett – she wasn’t afraid of him. He reached into his pocket and held the bag of credits out to her. Peli slowly stretched out her hand and took it, inhaling at the weight of it.

“If that doesn’t cover it let me know. I can pass along that you are willing to work on the Slave, it’d be a regular job.”

Peli passed the heavy bag of credits back and forth between her hands, smiling, and then said, “You know…he can wait a little longer.”

 ---

 Why did he agree to this?

Peli turned from the small table housing drinks and snacks and held out a cup of chilled caf to him. Din slowly turned his head and shoulders towards her and, despite not seeing his face, she read his tone.

She frowned, “Oh right.”

The mechanic turned away for a moment, fiddling with something he couldn’t see, and twisted back with a triumphant grin. Peli brandished a long straw and poked him in the shoulder with it when he didn’t move.

“Come on Mando, just take it.”

With a sigh, Din took the straw and caf before reluctantly following Peli into the other room. All the chatter immediately ceased and six pairs of eyes snapped to him as he rounded the corner with her. He didn’t know what he expected, it was the normal reaction to beskar – still his insides felt hollowed out after his talk and something about it stung a little.

Peli, however, paid it no mind and all but dragged him to a seat next to her. The other occupants, some human and some not, stared and waited for an explanation. The mechanic took a bite of her snack, a large cookie, and chewed slowly. She met the confused and frankly frightened looks of the group and took her time to chew and swallow, all the while rolling her eyes at the over the top reaction.

She was never given a reason to be afraid of her Mandalorian, or even Fett despite his reputation, and he’d always been fair and polite. Oh, she knew their reputation – bloodthirsty, ruthless, and unfeeling. But after seeing Mando with the baby, she had done some digging. Tatooine might be in the backwaters of the galaxy but it had a long history and many colorful inhabitants; between the HoloNet and asking around she’d learned a bit.

That child was never in any danger from the Mandalorian, in fact there was scarcely a safer place to be. Mando – Din – had taken him in and done right be him. Still, she knew he had to be uncomfortable in a place like this. She picked a spot facing the door and had already decided on the way in that she’d do the talking.

She brushed the crumbs off her hands, “Sorry we’re late. This is my friend, Mando.” The silence was deafening but she continued, “He doesn’t say much.”

His helmet turned almost unnoticeably towards her and she met his visor. Peli shrugged and rose her eyebrows; am I wrong? The Mandalorian cocked his head in agreement and leaned back into his seat. She sipped her chilled caf and settled in as a human across from them began to speak. She hadn’t brought him here to talk, she brought him here to listen.

He stiffened when she mentioned it back at the hanger, thinking it was a support group for parents whose children had passed on. But when she clarified that it was for parents without their children with them, whether it be they had simply grown up or were temporarily away, he hadn’t seemed any less rigid.

“I – I’m not his father.”

It was the softest she’d ever heard him and she felt her heart clench at the melancholy tone. His fingers twitched anxiously at his sides, opening and closing.

She countered, “You are in all the ways that matter.”

In the end, Mando tentatively agreed to go with her. The pair listened as the group went around with updates or things they did to alleviate the ache of missing their loved ones; some were grown with families of their own, others had moved off-planet, and some were off training at various academies. They talked about how they kept in contact and how they kept busy. Some tended hydroponic gardens, others kept meticulous journals, and still others traveled. He snorted; one sent his alien foundling with a Jedi across the galaxy and took up being a menacing beskar statue behind an infamous bounty hunter who may or may not be the ruler of Mandalore.

Din retreated into his own thoughts, wondering how Grogu was doing with his training. He could almost picture it in his mind; Grogu’s little brow wrinkled in concentration, maybe with his eyes closed if he was really trying, and the Jedi directing him. He imagined the little womp rat chasing – terrorizing – the local fauna and pouting about not being able to eat all the time. Would he still have his mythosaur pendant? Was he happy?

He blinked back to attention when Peli plucked the straw from his fingers and slid it into his caf with a small clink. People were looking at him expectantly, he swallowed nervously before realizing it was actually Peli there were waiting on.

She stood to get another cookie and Mando took the groups distraction to slip the long straw under his helmet. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but a cold drink was too tempting to pass up. Peli settled back in next to him and began to speak, “Well I have some updates,”

Peli broke the cookie in half and continued, “Corjul still hasn’t left Endor. After all that time on Hoth, he just decided that Endor was ‘perfect’ and he volunteered to monitor the shields. I’m not sure there’s much of anything out there but the natives…but he seems happy.”

Din stared under his helmet – Peli Motto had a kid. He supposed it made sense now he thought about it; why else would she be coming to these meetings? The mechanic finished a bite and folded her arms, “I am glad he’s just an analyst, not running around after Empire remnants. “

He sipped at his now lukewarm caf and wondered what her son looked like. Her voice flitted over his head, "Now Briell—“ Din inhaled sharply and his caf slurped loudly through the straw. Two children? Peli glanced at him, amused, “Briell has been settled nicely on Ord Mantell for a while now with her husband. I’m heading there in a couple weeks, my granddaughter is turning two.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from the group, some congratulating and some asking for a holo. He smiled, happy for her. It seemed the meeting was winding down and he took a long drink of his caf to finish it. “And as for Savi—“ Din choked on his caf, coughing and yanking the straw out from under his helmet to press an ineffectual hand against his chest.

Three. Three children Peli Motto had and Din knew nothing about it. Sure, it hadn’t come up in casual conversation, not that he was much of a conversationalist anyway, but certainly it would have come up? Grogu took to her so quickly and he hadn’t really questioned it but now he could see the pieces fitting together. The way she’d fussed over how to hold Grogu, was he getting enough to eat.

“Anyway, Savi is still planet hopping. He sends a holo when he remembers to. Last I heard he was heading to Coruscant to stay with a friend who’s a lobbyist. Still trying to ‘find himself’.” Peli patted his shoulder, “I’ve got this one to keep me busy and he just hooked me up with a steady new client.”

He took Peli’s cup and his own, following her nodded direction, and went to clean them. It was a simple kitchenette and he used as little of the moisture farmed water as he could to wash them out. His mind wandered again and he palmed the metal knob in his pocket; Fett, in between gasping peals of laughter, telling him that he knew exactly who the Jedi was and that Grogu would be safe with him. He wondered if the kid was pulling all kinds of things out of the air by now – Din smiled – he was going to be a menace once he could grab whatever he wanted regardless of where it was.

Peli’s head poked around the corner, “Hey Mando, you ready to head back?”

The Mandalorian nodded and followed his friend back onto the dusty streets of Mos Eisley. They walked in companionable silence, Din’s head on a swivel watching the road as the twin suns began to set. He fingered the comm unit in his pocket, wondering for the umpteenth time when Skywalker was going to contact him about Grogu’s progress. The man said he’d be allowed to visit, that he wasn’t a believer in separating families but still Din wondered.

“You know, Mando, you’re allowed to miss him and be proud of him.” Peli said next to him.

He looked down to her, “Am I?”

She sighed and stuffed her hands into her pockets, “Yeah. My kids all left Tatooine to do bigger, better things. Of course I miss them, sometimes I miss them more than I can stand but I’m so proud of them. I couldn’t hold onto them forever but it doesn’t mean they are gone for good.”

Din sighed, “I understand that. But he’s – he’s so young what if he doesn’t remember me? What if he’d rather stay with his teacher forever? What if—“

Peli grabbed his elbow, stopping them just outside of her hanger. “He adores you, Din. Anyone can see it, he won’t forget you. He’ll do what he needs to and then you and him will decide what’s next. It isn’t forever.”

He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and swallowed the lump in his throat. It isn’t forever, we will decide what to do next. Din followed her into the outbuilding and stopped when he caught the mischievous look on her face. He slowly tilted his head at her, almost afraid to ask.

“You’ve done me a favor with Fett, Mando. I might have a ship you’d be interested in.”

[yongtxt]

one summer’s day [yuta]

word count: 6.5k words

characters: parent!yuta x parent!reader ft. 95 line and a child

genre: angst. just suffering

warnings: mentions of illnesses, hospitals, and deaths. includes a bit of smoking, too. a ton of inaccurate medical information.  yuta has self-deprecating and self-destructive tendencies

author’s note: this is my third (and last!!!) hospital-based fic and i’m running out of ways to describe a hospital. this is emotionally taxing but this was so fun to write! also i tried out a new format so i hope it looks okay? (unedited but not rlly)

Nakamoto Mai’s summers were always spent basking in the white heat of the sun with the salty water of the ocean’s waves splashing against her skin. Your husband would hold her up by her arms, wading them ashore to where you were watching them over, lounging on a beach towel with your knees hugged to your chest.

Yuta would set his daughter on the sand, allowing her to run off to where her short limbs could take her—chasing off the seagulls that would land near her vicinity. He would make his way to you, dripping with water, and he would tackle you onto the ground just to tease you and hear your sweet laugh that was filled with nothing but love.

It wouldn’t take long before Mai would scurry back to her parents, out of breath and her plump cheeks glowing a shade of red you were already too familiar with. She’d crawl into Yuta’s arms while you’d carefully smear on a thick glob of aloe vera gel on her face, poking the tip of her nose and making her giggle.

For a family that resided in the urban city, you always appreciated the time you got to spend in the beaches of Daecheon with the most important people in your life; Yuta, your high school sweetheart that you got to marry two years after your first child was born, and Mai, the physical proof of the love you shared with him.

You had Mai at a time that was least expected. At the early age of twenty-one, bearing a child was the curveball that threw your and Yuta’s life into disarray. Your wishes of traveling outside the country were put to a halt and Yuta’s plans of dabbling into his long-time hobby of soccer were withheld; you were both forced into joining the workforce to afford to raise a child that you weren’t even sure you wanted to have in the first place.

But it was in the way you heard her steady heartbeats at your first ultrasound, how it immediately made your resolve waver. The look of pure adoration Yuta held the first time he’d felt her kicking in your stomach, it was a look you’ve never seen before—a look that made it feel like it was all worth it.

The day came when she was finally born into the world, holding onto your thumb as you held the newborn baby onto your chest. You knew right then and there that all of the doubts and worries you’ve had coming into your pregnancy, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you had Mai and Yuta with you.

It wasn’t easy to be parents at such a young age. To be able to juggle parenthood and your respective careers, you and Yuta wouldn’t dare say that you’ve come close to mastering the skill but you were sure close to it. Mai had a wonderful upbringing despite the many hardships you and Yuta have gone through. She managed to grow up in an environment that emanated warmth and affection, unaware of her parents’ sacrifices of their young adulthood to be able to give her the life she deserved.

Spoiled, as others may think, but she was her parents' pride and joy. Neither of you wouldn’t want her to be treated anything less than a princess should. The smile Mai always had on, you would do everything in your power to keep it.

-

As pampered as she was, most of it came from a place of having to treat her especially with care and attention more than a normal child would need because Mai was a chronically ill child. Born with a weak heart, it was a miracle that she even survived the delivery to start with.

She had always been sickly therefore trips to her many pediatricians weren’t unusual for your family, already having familiarized with most of the doctors and nurses who usually took care of her at your local hospital.

Mai had a lively personality, leading an active lifestyle spent running and playing around all day, but her heart defect caused her to be easily tired. Her constant shortness of breath put her in danger thus her pediatricians had made it a note to always keep an out for her.

When Mai fell into a continuous fever after your family’s trip to the beach, you didn’t think anything of it because of how frequently it happened. Yuta made you go to work and leave Mai in his care while he still had another day of his paid leave, reassuring that she would be fine as long as he was there to take care of her.

That same morning, Mai clambered off her bed—a little too early than her usual wake-up—and waddled into her parents’ bedroom, still burning high off her fever. She reached out for her father’s sleeping form on the bed, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt.

“Papa, it hurts.” She said once Yuta had groggily sat up to properly tend to his child’s cries, seeing the clumps of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. The sight was enough to jostle him awake, alarmed.

He pulled her off the ground and plopped the five-year-old onto his lap, worry growing in the pit of his stomach. It was only in rare cases when Mai’s pain would bring her to tears, indicating how much she was hurting. She looked worse than what he remembered the night before; her breathing still irregular as it always was, but her skin was paler than normal and sweat formed in her temple—it didn’t look like she was suffering her regular lapses.

Yuta asked, “Where is it hurting, Mai?”

She hesitantly pointed to her chest, to where her heart was. Without another question asked, he hurriedly grabbed his car keys from the bedside table. Her pediatricians told you and Yuta of her risk of chest pains and how they shouldn’t treat it lightly considering that she was merely a child. If it goes beyond what Mai could handle, she should immediately see the professionals to get treated.

In his sleepwear, Yuta drove to the hospital as fast—but safely—as he could. Anxious fingers drummed against the steering wheel while Mai sat at the back in her booster seat, her stuffed toy of a dolphin enveloped in her arms.

Briefly checking themselves in the emergency ward, some of the nurses who were already familiar with the Nakamotos ushered them towards the waiting room the moment they had spotted Yuta carrying Mai into the entrance.

He always sat near the decorative fish tank, knowing how much Mai loved watching the fishes swim around. It distracted her from the dread that came with the never-ending blood tests and x-rays she was required to take. It was effective almost every time, but it seemed like that day wasn’t like any normal day.

Mai stilled in her father’s arms in the time they spent in the waiting room, her eyes sewn shut and her lips clamped together. Watching her choking in her sobs and unable to do anything about it, it only broke Yuta’s heart more than it already has.

He let out a shaky breath, wanting the day to be over with already.

-

You entered Mai’s room in haste, slamming the door open as you heaved heavy pants. Still in your work attire, you dropped your bags onto the tiled floor and hurried to your child’s side.

“Mama!” Mai exclaimed, still the cheery child that she was. Yuta, who sat on a chair beside the bed, jumped at her sudden yell and whipped his head to his side to find you already reaching out to her.

You carefully cradled her into the crook of your neck, stroking her hair. She donned a hospital gown and she was hooked onto several machines, patches on her chest for the cardiac monitor and a nasal cannula in her nose; the situation seemed worse than what she let on, how her eyes lit up at your arrival, happy and enthusiastic, opposed how grave of a situation it looked.

“How are you feeling, Mai?” You asked in hopes that your worry wasn’t evident in your tone, holding onto her comparatively smaller hands in yours. “Are you still hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head fervently, a wide grin adorning her beautiful features, “No, no! I feel much better now!”

You let out a breathy laugh, pinching her cheek and making her whine at your doting. Ease washed over you, the tension you had on your shoulders released almost in an instant at the assurance that Mai wasn’t hurting anymore and she was okay.

“I told you that you should never lie about what you’re feeling, Mai.” Yuta spoke up beside you and for a second you’ve forgotten that he was there at all, how quiet he’s been since you came. He looked exhausted, pieces of hair sticking out in different directions and a frown etched on his face.

“But it’s the truth!” Mai pouted her lips, glaring at her father who could only let out a faint chuckle.

You turned to Yuta and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment longer. You wanted to apologize to him for leaving him to deal with it alone, but you knew he would just brush it off with him as the type of person who’d bottle in his stress to not worry those around him.

“Was it really necessary to confine her?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Yuta’s head and pulling him to your side in an attempt to console him—yourself, too, in his touch.

Of all the times you had to run Mai to the emergency ward, it has never come to a point where she needed to stay a day longer in the hospital. The machines she was hooked up on were usually used, but her tests and x-rays were possible to accomplish within the day. There usually was no need to confine her.

“They found an anomaly in one of her tests, her doctors wanted her to stay the night while they made sure that everything’s alright.” Yuta said as quietly as he could, wanting the conversation to be kept strictly between the two of you. He doubted Mai would even understand, but he didn’t want to take his chances of scaring his own child.

You bit the insides of your cheek, the return of the panicked thuds in your heart almost deafening. You replied, “It’s probably a mistake on their part, it’s gonna be fine.”

Yuta wasn’t quite sure if you meant to say it to him or to yourself. Either way, he appreciated it nonetheless. Having you beside him was already a weight lifted off him, he had less to worry about now that you were with him.

Mai, sensing the heavy tension in the room like the smart and sensible girl that she was, shuffled closer to her parents’ side of the bed but Yuta was quick to stop her from doing so. He wouldn’t want to risk snapping off her tubes, a lesson they had to learn the hard way before. She frowned, grabbing her father’s arm instead.

“Really, I’m okay now!” Mai was persistent even against the helpless expressions her parents wore, determined to make them believe so. She added, “Papa said that we can go home once mama comes so we can leave now, right?”

“We have to make sure that you’re actually fine, Mai. We have to stay a little longer.” You tried to smile at her, to make it seem like nothing was wrong. You cupped her face into the palm of your hand, caressing her skin with your thumb. “Is that okay?”

“I guess so.” She huffed, but her grimace was gone as soon as it appeared when you attacked her with a claw to tickle her stomach.

Yuta joined in eventually, hesitant still, but he relented just to hear Mai’s laughter—her hearty laughs that never failed to light up the room and make them feel better. He wondered just how much pain she was actually in to be able to hide it this well or was she even in pain at all like she had claimed.

She was acting as if she was perfectly fine but then again, Mai was a child who never liked to see people worrying. Much like him, he realized.

It took hours before one of Mai’s main pediatricians came knocking on the door, hours of agonizing torture on your and Yuta’s end. When you let Doctor Kang into the room, Mai was in the middle of eating dinner that his Uncle Taeyong had kindly cooked and dropped off at the hospital at the news of his niece’s confinement.

Mai visibly perked at the familiar man, waving her hand wildly to greet the doctor she had known for as long as she could remember. If she thought about it hard enough, almost all of her early memories included Doctor Kang, having been to hospitals so much to the extent that doctors no longer feared her unlike most children would.

“I assume you feel better now?” Doctor Kang asked in a playful tone, making his way to the side of Mai’s bed while you followed suit behind him. With her mouth full of chicken, she could only give him a high-spirited thumbs up. He chuckled, “That’s great to hear, Mai.”

“Us adults are going to talk for a bit so just continue eating what Uncle Taeyong gave you.” Yuta said, ruffling Mai’s hair. She nodded, too engrossed in her seahorse-shaped nuggets to be defiant that she wasn’t included.

Doctor Kang led you and Yuta to the corner of the room where there was a couch you could sit on. Yuta’s hand found yours subconsciously as you braced yourself for what Mai’s pediatrician had to say.

“Based on Mai’s medical records, she was born with a congenital heart defect, yes?” Doctor Kang asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white coat.

“Yes, but other doctors told us that it wasn’t life-threatening.” You remarked, already defensive. You were about to rise in your seat if it wasn’t for Yuta’s hold on you. Doctor Kang’s expression remained calm despite your reaction that you assumed he already anticipated. With a smaller voice, you said, “She’s been completely fine ever since.”

Doctor Kang nodded, “That is true but there’s a sudden spike in one of her tests, Mrs. Nakamoto. We’ve run it multiple times already to make sure but it looks like Mai is now prone to convulsions and epilepsy-like symptoms.”

“Convulsions? Epilepsy?” You trailed off, disliking the taste it left on your tongue. You felt Yuta’s grip on you tighten. “Isn’t this a bit too unexpected? What caused this?”

“These things just happen if you were born with a heart defect, we can never tell when it occurs. The most we can do is treat it accordingly.” Doctor Kang said, and you didn’t bother hiding the breath of relief you released. It was treatable, at least. “Expect that her health will be unstable as we’re yet to find out how her body will react so I’m advising that Mai should stay here for the meantime so we could monitor her closely.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Yuta spoke for the first time since Doctor Kang arrived, his voice quiet and unsure. “Mai will get better?”

Doctor Kang sighed through his nose, pushing up his glasses, “We will do everything in our power to take care of her but you have nothing to be worried about, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto. Your daughter is a strong girl.”

The said girl sat on her hospital bed, clueless to her parents’ slow descent to their anxieties they kept suppressed for so long.

-

Yuta stared at Mai’s serene face, her figure curled into a fetal position as she let out snores without care. He stood from a distance, leaning against the wall while you sat on a stool beside him. You shared the same worn-out appearance as your husband, dark circles and all.

A week has passed since Mai was confined in the hospital and it hasn’t gotten any better since. Her temperature kept fluctuating and she spent most of her nights switching her nasal cannula to an oxygen mask for a higher dosage of oxygen, unable to breathe properly anymore whenever she tried to fall asleep. She was also coughing a lot more, swelling in the most random parts.

Mai’s condition was getting worse by the day; unfortunately, it was taking its toll on you and Yuta as well, and you hated how much it showed.

“I’m killing her.” Yuta managed to choke out in the midst of his cries, his unkempt nails digging into the palm of his hands.

“You’re not killing her.” You snapped, incapable of even bringing yourself to rise from your seat to embrace him as much as your mind wanted to. Your body felt too exhausted, emotionally and physically too drained to function. You settled on holding his hand instead, to keep him from hurting himself as you’ve already instinctively known of his mechanisms. “You’re just panicking.”

“My father died because of the same illness, it’s hereditary. I passed the curse onto my child.” He wept, finding his solace in the way your thumb was rubbing circles onto the back of his hand.

“Mai is not gonna fucking die, Yuta.” You said, much more sternly this time with a tiny hint of aggravation seeping through in your rise of tone. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of your daughter’s death, the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You clicked your tongue, “Please, you have to trust your daughter a little more.”

Burying his face into his free hand, he let out shallow breaths. You sighed, but it didn’t bear animosity nor ill will, you were just tired—tired of pretending that you weren’t as in equal distress as he was. You couldn’t let anybody know of your vulnerabilities, especially not to your husband who was already suffering as it is.

Forcing yourself of energy, you pushed yourself up from your stool and took Yuta in your arms. You let him cry onto your shoulder that night, your own tears damping the back of your hand.

Despite that you were just human with the same capacity for emotions as much as the next person, you needed to be strong for your family. You didn’t know who else could take care of them if not you. 

-

There were days Yuta thought it was gonna get better. A fool that he was, truly.

Days when Mai’s uncles would come to visit their favorite niece, Taeyong with his arms full of newly bought toys for them to play with and Johnny with his shoulders carrying bags and bags of children’s books he wanted to read to her, and days when he’s able to leave work early and she’s gets to spend time with both of her parents by her side.

Those were the days Yuta never wanted to end because only in those times would he see again the glint in Mai’s eyes that she had lost, the glow she radiated in her elation. She’d be talkative, she had so many stories to tell and Yuta would never get tired of hearing all of it. So full of life and childlike charisma, it was as if everything was back to normal—except it wasn’t.

Days like those would always end in nights of suffering and agony for your family. Mai would lay on the hospital bed in a cold sweat, fighting a battle she wasn’t winning and there was nothing he could do to help alleviate the pain she was feeling. The monotonous beeping of her machines had become her lullabies, it would drown out your storytelling that used to lull her asleep.

Yuta was in a bad headspace, that he knew. Whenever he looked at you, he was reminded of it; how reliant he was of you for emotional support. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, it almost threatened to pour. He hears your desperate cries at night and your silent prayers, he knew how exhausted you were and there would be times he wanted to just say that you didn’t have to put up a tough and optimistic persona for Mai, for him.

But he would be lying if he did so. He was crumbling, he wasn’t in the clearest of mindset.

There would be instances so extreme that he would wish that he could just stay in his office and never return to the hospital, to never face his harsh reality and pretend that this wasn’t his.

Yuta would think to himself, who am I kidding?

He shouldn’t have ever met you and gotten you pregnant, Mai wouldn’t have to endure the pain he had caused her by being his child, but he was selfish. He had to sow what he reaped, to see through his curse that he jinxed his family with.

-

“Papa, look!” Mai called from where she splayed across the hospital bed, Yuta looked over his shoulder to see her proudly presenting her finished work of the LEGO set of a beach house that you had bought for her. She had a toothy grin on her face, showing off the pieces that came with it. “It’s me, papa, and mama! Look!”

“You’re already done with it?” He chuckled, walking over to see what she had been working on diligently for hours. His heart squeezed, noticing how she purposely customized the pieces to resemble your family’s own beach house in Daecheon; from the missing panels of the fences that he ruined and the placements of the flower pots you tended.

“Is this supposed to be me?” He asked, picking up a figurine that she had messily painted its hair with black acrylic to match his. She nodded enthusiastically. He laughed, “Mai, this is really good!”

“Yeah, I worked really hard on it!” She giggles, stifling a cough. Yuta rubbed his hand over her back to soothe her, kissing the top of her head to make her know of his appreciation of her hard work. A genuine smile on his face for once.

He always wondered how Mai made it so easy to melt all of his troubles and anxieties away. Her tiny body was capable of so much love, she lit up his darkest days so effortlessly. It made him feel so loved to know how much his daughter thought of him.

Yuta wanted to curse himself for all the times that he thought of himself badly. Regardless of his desperate pleads and regrets, he knew full well that he loved Mai too much to not wish her into existence. 

He had to work on negating his thoughts that fantasized about his own destruction. If Mai had known how badly he spoke of himself, he knew she wouldn’t like it—perhaps it would even shatter her image of him of the always optimistic, always confident father that he built.

His self-deprecation will not get the best of him again, for his mental stability and his family’s.

-

With his phone pressed against his ear with one hand, Yuta held up a lit cigarette in the other. The pungent smell of tobacco lingered in the air, he inhaled its remnants deeply like a depraved man would.

“Papa, when are you coming home? Mama sucks at doing the fishes’ voices!” Mai’s voice pierced in his ear, and Yuta heard you laughing from the background. His daughter’s voice sounded hoarse, but he didn’t let it sway him from souring her mood.

Tapping the ash off his stick, he said, “I’m almost done with work, okay? I’ll come home soon.”

Home, it was an odd term to call the bleak white-walled room that confined his child. As the days dragged on, Yuta has grown to accept it for what it is. While it was a prison to most, Mai treated the hospital room as she would to her own bedroom and the people who surrounded her were mostly to blame for it.

Because for Mai, it felt just like home whenever Uncle Taeyong would come and visit. He’d pull out papers and paints from his bag and encourage her to be creative. They would pin up their artworks on the walls for everybody to see, and she would giggle when she’ll overhear her uncle getting scolded by you for making a mess of the splatters they made, but he would always be forgiven for most of their works was of their family (uncles included; Uncle Taeyong wouldn’t allow them to be excluded).

It felt like home whenever Uncle Johnny would sneak around past visiting hours to bring Mai a new stuffed toy to add to her ever-growing collection. He would excuse himself that it was urgent, that the toys helped her sleep better at night, but they all knew that he was just too excited to see his niece’s reaction to waste a day. A wide variety of different water animals piled up near the bed, all courtesy of her uncle’s wallet and his tendency to spoil her.

Even on Mai’s worst days, it still felt like home. When she would curl into a position with her small fists digging into her chest that felt too constricted, completely unable to lift another finger because her body would be in too much pain, Yuta would be there to hold her hand. You would place her head on your lap, running your fingers through her hair to quietly soothe her until Mai would begin to forget that she was ever in pain.

Yuta hated the hospital, he hated how dreary it was. But it was home. As long as he had his family with him, it didn’t matter where home was—home was never just a place, it was a feeling he felt whenever he was with you and Mai. The hospital he had associated with nothing but misery for so long, Room 345 had become a place he could now look forward to coming home to.

Yuta dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, eager to wrap things up for the day so he could see his family again.

-

On her twenty-first day in the hospital, Mai had still shown no signs of recovery. Yuta was so sure that his nightmare was coming to life.

“We did everything we could, but her health is deteriorating every day and we’re running out of ways to keep her symptoms at bay.” Doctor Kang bowed his head, his guilty apologies falling on deaf ears.

Yuta’s fist collided with the wall, a loud crack resonating from its sheer impact.

“It’s unfortunate but for now the machines are keeping her alive.” Doctor Kang added, his voice lost in the midst of your inconsolable hysterics and Yuta’s fit of rage. “We’re still doing the best we could, but I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto…”

The voice in Yuta’s head grew louder and louder, screaming that it was his fault, his fault, his fault. This time, he wasn’t able to shut it out.

-

When you were still carrying Mai in your womb—only three months into your pregnancy with barely a bump to show off—Yuta made a promise to give his unborn child the entire world.

He wanted to be the best father, the kind of father who would be capable of protecting them from all the harsh reality and the kind of father who would be by their side for all of their ups and downs. He would not miss a moment of his child’s life, he would watch them grow in front of his very eyes to be a person he’d be proud to call his child.

But now he couldn’t believe his eyes, Mai at five years old was lying on a hospital bed. He was looking at her so intently as if he was trying to commit her appearance into his mind—how the curve of her nose bore a resemblance to yours, how her lips reminded him of his own, and even how her eyes were similar to her grandmother’s; all of it, he instilled all of it.

Yuta found it painfully cruel how not a single feature of his late father was passed down to Mai. Nakamoto Tatsuo, the kind father that he was, had an appeal to his appearance and was a sight to behold but none of his traits could be distinguished from Mai’s face, it was just his weak heart that he passed unto her.

“Are you okay, papa?” Mai asked after a while of just observing her silent father, tilting her head confusedly at the sudden outburst of tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t like seeing papa cry.”

He nodded, wiping his cheeks rather aggressively, “You don’t have to worry about me, Mai. I’m alright.”

“Okay, I trust you… I love you, papa.” Mai smiled at him, and he burned the image into memory.

-

It happened on a day that felt too normal. Soft waves of laughter filled the room, accompanying it was Mai’s favorite movie soundtrack playing its pleasing tunes.

Mai was engrossed in a game of UNO with you, her small hands doing its best to carry a deck of The Little Mermaid themed cards. She had her tongue sticking out from focus, oblivious that you have been purposely making her win since the round had started.

Yuta, on the other hand, was tidying up the mess her uncles left when they had visited in the morning. He swore they coddled their niece too much.

Everything seemed so normal, it was just like any other day in the hospital. Mai was about to call her win, placing her final card in the pile, when her arm suddenly stiffened. She lurched over into a violent spasmodic fit, accidentally knocking off the stack of cards and snapping off the tubes she had in her nose that provided her oxygen.

You yelped in your startle, shaky fingers easing Mai into a position where she could breathe. For a moment, Yuta was frozen on his spot—utterly paralyzed by fear and panic as they had never seen their daughter have a seizure. He snapped back to reality soon after, forcing his legs to run out of the room and call for help.

Mai was still convulsing when Doctor Kang had finally arrived inside the room, he saw the condition she was in and he turned to Yuta who stood by the foot of the bed, watching the scene unfold with pure horror painted on his face.

“Both of you, get out now!” Doctor Kang’s voice bellowed, rushing to where Mai’s bed would pop its wheel. “I said, out!”

A horde of nurses barged into the room, ushering you and Yuta out of their way before either of you could’ve begun comprehending the situation. You were too stricken by shock, falling to the tiled floor as strangled sobs left your lips—desperate and helpless, while your husband stood by the door, gaping as he watched them wheel out his daughter to the direction of the emergency ward.

Yuta made his way to where the hospital bed used to be, kneeling down on the scattered mess they made of the playing cards. His vision blurred, he didn’t know where else he could find hope. It was as if he was merely just clawing at the seams that were threatening to pull apart any second.

He pressed his palms together, uttering a silent cry to a god he wasn’t quite sure he believed in anymore.

-

Yuta could not imagine living in a world where Mai was no longer.

A world where he would no longer wake up to her small hands shaking him awake, a world where he would no longer have to pick the peas off her dinner plate when you weren’t looking, a world where he would no longer need to take her to the beach just to satisfy her thirst of the ocean waves—he just couldn’t.

The world was robbing Yuta off witnessing the many firsts Mai was yet to experience, and he didn’t know if it was selfish of him that he couldn’t even think of accepting it. He wanted to see his daughter on her first day of school, to see her grow up and achieve her dreams and goals.

There was so much he had to know about her, to see her accomplish, but her clock was ticking. At age five, Mai was already laying on her deathbed. Unfairly so.

“She won’t be able to make it through the night.” Doctor Kang said, his head down low. “I’m so sorry.”

Hooked onto too many tubes to count, Mai rested on the hospital bed in her most peaceful slumber yet. She was unconscious to her mother’s cries, the first time Yuta had seen you crack in the eyes of others; you held onto her small frame for dear life, clutching onto her small pale hands as you laid beside her.

“What did we do wrong?” He heard you mutter to no one in particular, left it trembling in the suffocating air. “What the fuck did we do wrong?”

Yuta sat on the foot of the bed, unable to even look at Mai. He was scared, so terrified. In her final hours, he didn’t want to face her with a look that was sorrowful and guilt-ridden. He racked his brain of what to say, but he overwhelmed himself with his gazillion unsaid thoughts and it left ultimately him blank.

“Mai, are you listening?” He asked after a while, his voice hesitant and wavering. His throat felt dry as if he hasn’t spoken in years. When he received no reply, he let out a mirthless chuckle. He added, “Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?”

You craned your neck to meet Yuta’s eyes, bloodshot as yours were, and he didn't look away. He continued, “You were so little back then but you were rambunctious as ever. You loved the beach so much that I had to pretend that I got sick so we could go home.”

He saw your hand snake out of Mai’s blanket, holding it out for him to take. He caught it with his shaky fingers, tears tumbling out of his cheeks as he relished in the warmth you provided. Gripping on your hand with a tightness he couldn’t believe he was capable of in his state, you held on his even firmer; to assure him that you were there, that he was not alone.

“Mai,” You whispered in between hiccups, gazing at your daughter with such a tenderness Yuta knew was only reserved for Mai. “Mermaids and mermen don’t exist. It was only your papa who was swimming in the water when I pointed one to you.”

It was the crack in your voice that got him. You were letting yourself be vulnerable, and it pained him that it took you this long to finally allow yourself to be. The strong woman he was so in love with, falling apart right in front of him—somehow, you were still so beautiful. An absolute goddess that you were.

Tugging onto Yuta’s hand, he swallowed his reluctance and inched himself closer. He said on his way, “Mai, Uncle Johnny wasn’t the one who broke your favorite pail and shovel, it was me. I accidentally stepped on it and I blamed it all on your uncle because I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

It went on for a while, your family’s exchange of apologies and truths. It was all either of you could say, but Yuta wished this moment could last forever. You were being honest with your feelings and he was braving against his insecurities as a father, but he knew no matter how much tears he’d shed, Mai was still dying.

“Mai,” Tone a little softer, Yuta called out to his daughter once more. “You and your mama are the reasons why my life is worth living. You’ve both brought out a side of me that I never once imagined I was capable of having. But Mai, you especially are my strength.”

You burrowed your nose into the small of Mai’s neck, muffling your cries at your husband’s confession. He carried on, baring his soul out, “You are the light of my life and of so many others and Mai, we need you to stay alive… I need you to keep on living.”

Mai coughed, and Yuta’s eyes shot open. You drew back, in equal shock at her sudden awakening. She smiled at the sight of her parents, barely having the strength and energy to flutter open her lids all the way, “Papa, if I promise to, can we go back to the beach?”

A gasp ripped off your throat, fresh tears welling in your eyes as if you hadn’t already exhausted yourself from crying. While you latched yourself onto Mai’s fragile form, Yuta’s limbs moved before he could even process what was happening. He scrambled towards the both of you, throwing his arms around his family in a dogpile, clinging with all of his strength.

“Mama, your hair. It tickles.” Mai delicately giggled, scrunching her nose to evade your locks. She couldn’t move in either of your holds, allowing your and Yuta’s combined warmth and coziness to envelop her whole, almost soothing her to a state of tranquility she was never truly accustomed to all her life.

“I’m sorry, Mai.” You laughed breathlessly, a sense of relief washing over you, and you looked at her with a certain yearning. It was an apology that encapsulated everything—to your faults and shortcomings, you poured it all. “Let us make it up to you, okay?”

Yuta gently placed his palm against the side of her head, pressing his cheek against her head of hair and he didn't move an inch. He found comfort at the beating of her heart, faint but it was still there. He mumbled, “Tell us how can we make it up to you, Mai.”

“I want a new pail and shovel.” Mai hummed after a while of silence, letting you pepper her face with hurried kisses—sloppy kisses that would last her a lifetime—and ignoring the damp feeling on her scalp as she nestled into his father’s touch.

Home, Yuta thought once more, this is home. He savored the feeling for what he didn’t know would be the last time because on the night of August 5th of 2023, an hour after she had woken up from her heavily painkiller-induced condition, Nakamoto Mai died of heart failure.

Unknowingly, a little piece of her broken parents died with her. To fill the emptiness that she had left hollow in your hearts, you and your husband would turn to the beach for a taste of peace that neither of you wouldn’t ever fully attain again.

Life wasn’t fair, and Yuta doesn’t think it would ever be when it had already robbed him of his life’s purpose.

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums, we look at a surprisingly experimental album from a band who got royally screwed by their record label: Propaganda, with their arguable only LP, A Secret Wish. Oh, and did I mention that that record label was none other than Zang Tuum Tumb, run by none other than Trevor Horn? Find out the whole story in the video, or in the transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at a relative sleeper of its era, with a unique sound that’s set it apart and won it a contingent of cult followers over the years: A Secret Wish, the first, and only, studio album from the classic lineup of Propaganda, first released in 1985.

First formed in Duesseldorf, West Germany by Ralf Doerper of Die Krupps, Propaganda soon relocated to Great Britain in the hopes of finding a wider audience for their music. Their lucky break came in the form of being signed to the record label Zang Tumb Tuum, headed by then-rising star, Trevor Horn. Fresh off his first major success as a producer, ABC’s The Lexicon of Love, Horn then lent his famous production chops to Propaganda’s first single, “Dr. Mabuse.”

Music: “Dr. Mabuse”

The first time I heard “Dr. Mabuse,” I wasn’t familiar with the titular character, and that might be true for you, too, if you’re from the Anglosphere like me. Dr. Mabuse was a literary villain invented by Norbert Jacques, and later made much more famous in a film adaptation of his tale directed by Fritz Lang, the mastermind behind Metropolis. A manipulative criminal kingpin, Mabuse wields strange powers like psychic possession and astral projection, which, despite their seemingly occult origins, often exploit modern technologies, like cinema screens that can hypnotize people. While he may sound like the perfect subject for a chilling, brooding synth-pop anthem, I can’t help but wonder if the character’s relative lack of recognition in the English-speaking world may have hampered this single’s success. While its ominous, gothic energy sets it apart from much of Horn’s other work, it still has some of his characteristic bombast behind its sinister hook, and has an evident “hit single” feel. Still, it performed significantly better in Continental Europe than elsewhere.

Much like ABC’s famous hit, “The Look of Love,” was expanded into a four-part suite that included an instrumental reprise on its LP, this version of “Dr. Mabuse” is listed on the album with the subtitle “First Life,” and assorted variants of it were available in different formats. It also received an arguable reprise with the album’s final track, titled “Strength to Dream / The Last Word.” The title is a bit more opaque than that of “The Look of Love (Part Four),” which made the relationship more obvious, but the synth sequences do bear a rather strong resemblance.

Music: “Strength to Dream / The Last Word”

Unfortunately for Propaganda, Trevor Horn quickly became a little too successful for his own good. Labelmates Frankie Goes to Hollywood achieved unprecedented success with Welcome to the Pleasuredome, and their famous singles “Relax” and “Two Tribes,” which led Zang Tumb Tuum to throw almost all of their promotional support behind their newfound golden child. The release of A Secret Wish was postponed, and Horn was no longer able to produce the rest of the album, besides “Dr. Mabuse.” But despite the fact that Horn isn’t actually here, there’s still a noticeable attempt to finish the album in an aesthetically similar, “in-the-style-of” fashion, and the end result is an LP that's surprisingly quite sonically cohesive!

Music: “Jewel”

With its abrasive textures, aggressive energy, and heavy emphasis on percussion, “Jewel” feels more like a track from the Art of Noise than it does Horn’s triumphant pop productions like “Relax.” “Jewel” also has an alter ego on the same album, and serves as a sort of evil doppelgaenger for the similarly-titled track, “Duel.” The two tracks feature the same lyrics, but vastly different treatments and moods.

Music: “Duel”

I like to think “Jewel” displays how a tumultuous relationship looks from outside, painful and unpredictable, whereas “Duel” is a bit like experiencing it yourself, and being so enraptured by the blissful pain that you don’t realize how frightening the lyrics actually are. Besides the much softer instrumentals, the lead vocal performance by Claudia Bruecken is also markedly different, and I think the contrast between the two is a testament to her vocal chops. Throughout the album, Bruecken’s voice is rich and full of character, setting her apart as one of the more distinctive vocalists in 80s synth-pop.

Overall, “Duel” is perhaps the most accessible and easy to like track on A Secret Wish, and it accordingly became the album’s biggest hit. But unlike most obvious singles, it arrives at the tail end of the album’s first side, after a slew of much more experimental tracks. Not only does “Jewel” arrive before “Duel” does, but the album’s opening track, “Dream Within a Dream,” is an eight-minute psychedelic opus based around a text by Edgar Allen Poe! “Duel” feels a bit like a break for refreshments after listening to the earlier parts of the album. It really is a surprisingly experimental work given its relative commercial success, reaching #16 on the UK albums chart. Still, despite that success, *A Secret Wish* doesn’t seem too strongly remembered today, which is something I’d certainly like to see change. Counterbalanced between pop and the avant-garde, this album sounds like a cross between the Eurythmics and Einstuerzende Neubauten--something I say with as much affection as possible!

At first glance, the cover of A Secret Wish almost appears abstract, an inky web of squiggles. But upon closer inspection, one can see that the object depicted on the cover is actually a dress form, a wireframe in the shape of a human torso, which might be used to display clothing in a retail setting, or in the design of clothing.

While this emblem may not sound particularly sinister, I’m tempted to compare it to Harry Harlow’s famous experiments on rhesus monkeys. Harlow took orphaned baby monkeys and offered them a “cloth mother” and a “wire mother.” Artificial effigies of monkey mothers dispensed food for the test subjects--one with a soft and cuddly body of cloth, and one with a cold and barren armature of wire. When distressed, Harlow’s monkeys sought shelter and comfort from the cloth mothers, regardless of which mother had dispensed food to them, suggesting that the comfort of their soft touch had a value of its own to the monkeys. The results of this research have often been used to suggest the importance of physical contact between children and their caregivers. Propaganda’s use of the cold, bare, female-coded wire frame, enshrined, alone, in the center of a drab-coloured composition, centers the idea of the inhospitable and the unloving. Perhaps it is a symbol of the inhumanity and alienation of modern life?

As I hinted at earlier, A Secret Wish ended up being the only album this version of Propaganda managed to put together, despite the tremendous promise that it shows. Feeling flagrantly under-compensated per the terms of their contract with Zang Tumb Tuum, the members of the band went to court, and eventually jumped ship to Virgin Records instead. That is, except for Claudia Bruecken, who decided to stick with Zang Tumb Tuum for several more years. Later in the 80s, she would team up with Thomas Leer to form the synth-pop duo Act, whose lone LP, Laughter, Tears, & Rage, is a worthwhile listen that I would consider the ideal follow-up to A Secret Wish--though it’s markedly less experimental and percussion-driven, sounding more like late 80s, post-Pet Shop Boys, baroque synth-pop.

Music: “Absolutely Immune”

My personal favourite track on A Secret Wish is the album’s final single, “p:Machinery.” With pounding percussion and buzzing synths, not to mention some dramatic and dystopian lyrics, this is definitely the track on the album that reminds me of Ralf Doerper’s industrial music roots! Apparently, parts of this track’s melody were composed by none other than Japan’s David Sylvian, who receives a minor thank-you in its liner notes. While I don’t think the finished track sounds terribly similar to anything of Sylvian’s, I can’t say I don’t find that pretty interesting. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “p:Machinery”

[wendimydarling]

No Mercy

Title: No Mercy

Summary: Henry’s not in charge for once.

Pairing: Henry x Anonymous Girlfriend

Word Count: 2352

Warnings: 18+, bondage, foreplay, sex.

A/N: So I’m away from my computer and I couldn’t write anything new, cause formatting is damn difficult on a phone. @littlefreya @sciapod @thiccgeralt I’ll get to our imagine at some point, but for now enjoy this one that I wrote years ago. Also, if you haven’t guessed by now, I’ve got a bit of a tickle kink cause it’s a great non-painful power play. Sorry, not sorry. 😁 Constructive criticism is always welcome, so long as it’s done nicely! Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry was in trouble and he knew it. His girlfriend had been unusually handsy at the restaurant, stroking him secretly under the table while she chatted with his friends, and openly groping him in the car while they drove home. She was completely silent though and he wasn’t quite sure what he was in for; the way she was acting meant she was clearly in the mood, and she had him so riled up he was willing to say yes to anything she had in mind.

No sooner had he pulled into the garage than she was unbuckling her seat belt and climbing on top of him, hiking up her skirt so that she could straddle his legs. Her hands were everywhere and she was grinding down hard, making his head swim. She kissed him roughly, then moved to his neck when he broke off for air. “Maybe... maybe we should take this upstairs,” Henry panted, doing his best to sound seductive while secretly hoping she’d agree to go inside, which would give him a chance to collect himself.

She pulled back and stared at him, her expression unreadable. In his peripherals Henry saw her fingers wrap slowly around the car door handle. She opened it and wordlessly slipped off his lap and out the door, turning to look back at him with a sultry glance as she walked into the house. Henry felt yet another familiar twitch below and sent a silent thanks upward for this vixen he got to call his, taking a deep breath before scrambling to undo his seatbelt and follow her inside.

He found her standing in the bedroom, stripped down to her underwear (though she’d left her heels on). Henry gave a throaty groan of approval at her attire, removing his shirt and stepping towards her and the bed. She placed her hand flat on his chest to stop him and shook her head briefly, looking over at the corner. He turned to look and discovered she had brought one of the kitchen chairs up with her. Henry looked back at her with suspicion, eyebrow raised.

At his hesitation, Henry’s girlfriend kissed him again and pushed him backwards towards the chair, undoing the button and zipper on his pants at the same time. She stepped away and motioned for him to continue which he obeyed quickly, removing the rest of his clothes while she disappeared into the bathroom. Her silence was driving him crazy, but in a very good way. She knew him well.

Henry sat down in the chair, hissing a little as the cold wood met his bare flesh. He heard his girlfriend come back into the room but before he could turn to look at her something soft was slipped over his eyes. Holy shit, he thought to himself, feeling himself grow even harder at the idea of not being able to see. Once the blindfold was secured, he felt open-mouthed kisses trail from over the blindfold on his temple down to the pulse point in his neck. His girlfriend’s hands slid down his arms at the same time, pulling them behind the chair. “Bloody hell, woman,” he breathed, fighting his arousal as she looped what felt like rope around his arms, cinching them tight from his wrists to his elbows. “What are you planning to do to me?”

Henry got no response, which he expected. His back and shoulders were flush against the back of the chair while his arms were wrapped around it, and while he was slouching he couldn’t really bend forward, so his hips slipped a little towards the front of the seat. He felt a hand slide down his chest to his right leg, where another rope was used to anchor it to the chair, once at the knee and once at the ankle. The same was repeated on the other side, just as tightly and peppered with kisses. Henry suddenly felt very vulnerable. He tried testing the restraints and found that he could move very little. He made a mental note to later ask his girlfriend how she got so good at tying people up. She sat sideways on his lap now and kissed him again, but every time he tried to deepen it she would pull away. The woman had complete control over him, and he loved it. She stood up and walked away, and he was left to wait.

Adrenaline and excitement coursed through Henry as he waited for what was next. He didn’t know how much time had passed since his girlfriend had kissed him but it was far too much time for his taste, and he had no idea if she was even still in the room. “You still there, Fireball?” He called out in a husky tone, using her nickname in the hope for a reply. He heard a soft moan, and turned his head toward the bed. Another breathy moan came from that direction, and then a gasp. Henry focused and heard the squelch of wet flesh being repeatedly exposed. Realization struck him: she was masturbating. “You bloody minx,” he exclaimed, arousal dripping from his voice as he listened to her get herself off at the sight of him tied up. He couldn’t touch her, and why that made him more excited he had no idea, he only knew it did. A throaty gasp left his girlfriend as her release hit her, then once again there was silence. Henry waited impatiently.

After a few more agonizing minutes, just when he began to assume that she had left him alone, Henry felt something soft brush against his erection. He cried out in surprise, then again in pleasure as whatever it was did it a second time. Slowly at first, the soft object would repeat its motion. Down, then up, then down and up again. It alternated sides, swiped through the slit of his head and down towards his base, always catching him off guard and never revealing any kind of pattern.

All at once, he realized what she had done. “Oh god,” he breathed, connecting the dots in his head. He’d been had. The whole night so far had been a ruse to get him here, where he couldn’t escape. The silence, the urgent kisses, grabbing at him under the table at dinner, even jumping him in the car. She’d used everything he liked and she’d played him like a fiddle. See, Henry’s girlfriend loved to tease, but whenever she would tease him like this during sex he would always get too frustrated and end up flipping her over, having his way with her before she was finished playing. This way, she had Henry completely at her mercy. The touch hadn’t stopped, and he growled in frustration as he tried to pull back from it, held still by the rope.

The object (he assumed a feather) disappeared, and Henry was left alone again, panting, his erection pulsing in anger at the lack of friction. He tried to steel himself mentally, knowing that it was only going to get worse and that this time he couldn’t take control and distract his girlfriend. He wasn’t wrong.

Fingertips replaced the feather and with the lightest touch traced the outline the feather had left. Henry grunted and threw his head back, trying to ignore the sensations. Every time his girlfriend stroked down she would get closer and closer to his balls. His breath would hitch and his body would try in vain to get up from the chair, which he knew was only egging her on. At random intervals, she would grab his shaft firmly and pump a couple of times, only to release him and go back to the slow, light torture of her fingertips. “Christ, love, that’s not fair!” Henry barked at her, head coming back up, chin against his chest. Once she finally reached his base, she went back to the top and started the process all over again. He knew she was grinning, and he hated and loved it at the same time.

Four more times she started over. Henry was panting heavily by the time she was done, every now and then pleading with her or throwing a curse her way. His balls were aching to be touched and he was leaking, which didn’t help his cause. Every time he did his girlfriend would lick it up, making him gasp in pleasure. She never kept her tongue on him long though, only enough to leave him wanting more.

After the fifth time Henry felt his girlfriend’s fingers travel finally, FINALLY to his balls, but she didn’t move them, she just held them against his skin. Anytime he’d push to gain more pressure, she’d remove her fingertips and he would be left with nothing. Henry writhed in agony, so turned on by her power that he could barely think. “Fuck, you bitch, would you just fucking do something already?” He growled at her, trying to make her mad enough to give him something, anything. Her hands left his body and he heard her heels clack against the floor in the hallway, leaving him alone.

Henry cursed himself, and tested his bonds again. They held firm. I really am going to have to ask her how to do that, he thought again, smirking at his predicament. He knew it didn’t show but he was actually enjoying being pushed to his limits, which surprised him. He might have to give her more opportunities to do this. He heard his girlfriend back in the hallway and braced himself, wondering what she was going to do.

His girlfriend came back into the room and Henry felt her fingers tilt his chin up. He was expecting to be punished for calling her a bitch, so it surprised him when she kissed him fully, giving his upper lip a small lick when she pulled away. Before he could come up with an apology, something sticky was placed across his mouth, and he was quite literally rendered speechless. Outwardly he grunted his protest, but inwardly he knew that he deserved it.

What he did not think he deserved, however, were the fingers that were suddenly drilling themselves into his rib cage. Henry squirmed hard, trying to get away, but he was stuck and his girlfriend was mad. Shit, shit, shit, he thought as he laughed into his gag. That was not what I had in mind! The tickling only lasted a minute or two to remind him who was in charge, but it felt like longer before she stopped. A gentle slap on the side of his face when she was done let him know he was forgiven and brought him immediately back to his arousal. He whimpered repeatedly through the gag, breath coming out sharply through his nose. He was ready to come, needed it. His girlfriend straddled his lap and he groaned as she tilted his erection up, still not providing any relief. She ran her fingers through his hair and placed her mouth on his temple again, next to his ear. A quiet ‘shhh’ escaped her lips; the first sound she’d made all night.

The tape was removed slowly from his mouth and Henry gave her a mumbled apology mixed with incoherent pleading, to which another ‘shhh’ was issued. His girlfriend hugged his head to her chest and soft kisses were planted on his hair as soothing hands squeezed up and down his shoulders, her favorite muscles of his. He felt the skin of her breast brush against his cheek and he realized she was naked; she must have removed the rest of her clothes while she had masturbated.

His girlfriend shifted in his lap and Henry uttered a loud sigh of relief as his throbbing erection was completely enveloped in her warmth. No mercy was shown or needed as she began to ride him in earnest; she was clearly as desperate as he. Her breaths became more shallow and she bit his shoulder in an effort to keep quiet as she came close to the edge. Henry urged her to come, murmuring dirty words into her ear as she rocked back and forth on his lap. He felt her walls tighten around him as she sat up and the blindfold was ripped off his head, allowing him to watch her come apart.

Her eyes were open and staring into his as she came, still riding him hard. Henry was close, but something was missing. His girlfriend snaked a hand behind her and pressed her fingers into his balls, and at the same time leaned forward and whispered in his ear three words that did him in every time she used them: “You’re my favorite.” Head bent into her shoulder, watching himself slide in and out of her center, Henry finally came, a reverent and lengthy “fuuuuuuck” escaping his lips. His girlfriend slowed down her thrusts and brought her hands around to cradle each side of his neck, resting her forehead on his.

They sat there a moment, chests heaving as they came down from their high. His girlfriend started kissing him again and Henry tugged his arms, whining a little in pain. She took the hint, reaching around the chair and pulling just one string while still kissing him. The ropes fell away and Henry pulled back to look at her incredulously, thinking it would have been so easy for him to escape the whole time. She laughed at his expression, her cheeky grin telling him that she clearly thought she had won.

Finally able to use his hands he grabbed her neck and fervently resumed their kiss. She reached down to release his legs and once he was free he picked up a length of rope and grabbed her ass, standing up and carrying her to the bed. Dropping her unceremoniously onto the mattress, he held up the rope and smirked down at her. “Just so you know,” he warned her, “payback’s a bitch.” She simply smiled at him and held her hands out in surrender, taunting him with her words. “Do your worst.”