#like canonically it’s hands but hooves look nice!!

[strawberrus0da]

Old drawing I never colored but looks nice

[kiss-theggoat]

Think I’ll Keep You

Bo Sinclair x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You and your friends end up in a tiny town called Ambrose, and you think the gas station attendant Bo is possibly the hottest guy alive. He seems to think the same about you.

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive, Canon typical violence, DubCon, She/Her pronouns used ( Bo refers to reader as “girl” once, the rest is gn)

“There’s a little gas station up around the bend there. Bo should have a fan belt.”

You nodded, turning to your best friend, Stacy, and her boyfriend, Michael. Your other two friends decided to stay back with the car where the road was washed out. You were all a little sketched out by the guy who had given you directions, his clothes and skin covered in dirt, a knife sticking from his belt, and the pungent smell of roadkill absolutely radiating off of his every pore.

The walk to the gas station was relatively short. The first impression you had of the town was tiny and grimey. If this is where that guy was from, his appearance made more sense to you now. Stacy bumped your shoulder as you approached the gas station door, rubbing her own arm with a scrunched up look on her face. “Maybe that guy was lying… I’m not sure listening to someone who had hooves hanging from his rear view mirror was a good idea.”

You shrugged it off, trying not to let her anxiety rub off on you. “As long as we stay together, we should be fine.” You reassure her, pushing the creaky door open. Michael made a noise to agree with you. He was a man of few words, which is why he wasn’t particularly your favorite person ever.

“Hello?” You called out, sounding quieter than you had originally intended. The gas station looked a little bit less decrepit than the rest of the town, but still had its fair share of dust and grime. You could hear faint music playing from somewhere deeper inside the building, and from the sound of it, it seemed like something you’d recognize.

Stacy held onto Michael’s arm while they both followed you. Your steps were hesitant as you made your way back towards the door to the garage. The glass on the door was covered in dirt, making it impossible to look through. Was everything in Ambrose caked in mud? You tried the knob, and thankfully, the door was unlocked. A song you knew, Falling Away From Me by Korn, was blasting from a small stereo on a shelf, which was almost completely blocked by the open hood of a truck.

Blue coverall covered legs and black boots stuck out from under the truck, and obviously the man, hopefully the guy named Bo, didn’t hear your entrance. You felt bad for barging in, so instead of saying something, you knocked loudly on the door, hoping this would be a less intrusive way of getting his attention. A pair of greasy hands gripped the bumper, pulling the man out from under the truck. He wore coveralls covered with spots of grease and dirt. His hands and fingernails were stained, forehead covered in sweat and muck. The hat on his head looked like it was about to fall off, and his hair stuck to his head in tendrils. He stood, walking casually to the radio to turn down the music.

Even though he looked like he could use a nice hot (and EXTREMELY soapy) shower, you were in awe of how attractive he was. Thick eyebrows, pretty brown eyes, nice lips and great cheekbones, chiseled jawline set upon a veiny neck with a pronounced Adam's apple. Safe to say you were flustered. You stared at him like an idiot, even after he spoke to you in a deep, silky smooth southern accent, “What can I do for you folks?”

After a few moments of silence, he seemed to get a little aggravated at your silence. “Listen, I’m sorta busy, is there somethin’ I can do for y’all?”

Stacy was the one to speak up. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you Bo? We need uh…a fan belt? Our car broke down back there…where the roads washed out.”

Bo nodded. “What size d’ya need?” As he spoke, you noticed his eyes were fixed on you, despite you being silent.

Stacy looked up at Michael, clueless. He interjected, “15 inches.”

You watched his muscular figure walk as he inspected the wall, presumably housing all his fan belts. He grabbed onto one, holding the packaging closer to his face. “Shoot… looks like I only got a 17 or 22.”

“Dammit.” Michael groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “Is there another gas station nearby?”

“Only one in town.” He shrugged. “But uh… I don’t keep everythin’ here. It’s a pretty small building, so I keep some shipments up at my house. We could go up there and check for a 15 inch.”

Michael nodded quickly, “That would be great! Thank you.” But Stacy didn’t seem like she was on board. She grabbed Michael’s bicep, making him look down at her. She said quietly, “Should we really follow him to his house? I have a bad feeling about this….”

Bo chuckled, and oh my god you could faint, grabbing a yellow rag from his work bench to wipe his large, veiny hands off. “Makes no difference to me, but you folks can either take a 17 inch fan belt or come with me up to the house.” He shoots you a lopsided smile, before so blatantly checking you out, making your cheeks turn red.

You and Stacy both looked up at Michael, her pleading with him to just take a different size fan belt and get the hell out of here, and you pleading for him to let you follow the dreamy stranger. “A…wrong size might hurt the car, right…?” You reasoned, even though you knew jack shit about cars.

Michael sighed, “Stace, it’ll be okay. If all three of us go, we’ll be fine.” He kissed her temple. Bo tossed the rag down and turned the radio off, walking over to the garage door and pulling it up. He did it with such ease, you were convinced he was strong. Okay, you needed to chill. You’d seen the man for five minutes and were practically drooling over him.

He led you guys out of the gas station and onto a dirt path covered in loose gravel, which was slightly uphill. The sun was setting now, finally giving you a break from the oppressive summer sun of Louisiana. You wore a black tank top and a pair of burgundy colored cut off shorts, with a pair of plain black high tops. Even with the somewhat revealing outfit, you could feel how sweaty you’d become after walking around for so long, and you didn’t know how he worked in an unairconditioned garage all day long. As you all walked, you found yourself walking closer to him, splitting you into two groups. You and Bo walking in a pair up front, then Michael and Stacy trailing close behind you.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way down here?” Bo asked you, taking his hat off and wiping some sweat away from his brow as he asked.

You smiled, holding back a pathetic childish giggle. “We’re visiting some other friends who live down in Florida.”

“Florida? Where are y’all from?”

“I’m going to school in Oregon, but Michael goes to school in Austin. So we decided to make a road trip out of it and pick everyone up on the way.” You shoved your hands in your pockets as you spoke.

“Seems unfair to you. You had to drive aaaaall the way here from Oregon? And your friend there just had to come from Texas?” He clicked his tongue.

“I would’ve taken a flight, but Stacy’s on the way.” You shrugged. You didn’t really mind the extra distance, driving with Stacy was fun, as you hadn’t really seen each other with how busy you’d been all year.

“So…this town wasn’t even on the GPS or anything… we had to have some guy tell us how to find you.” You laughed a little, recalling your awkward encounter with the roadkill guy.

“Sad story, Ambrose. The town was kinda put on the map by the house a wax. I’m sure you passed by a sign or two for it.”

“Oh, yeah we did.”

“Yeah, people used to come to see it from miles away. And a woman named Trudy was the main...I guess "artist" is the right word. Trudy's husband, Doc Sinclair, was a doctor in the big city until he got his license revoked for doing surgeries on the side. Stuff that, you know, most doctors wouldn't dare do. So he moved him and Trudy out here to Ambrose. Made a fresh start with his medical practice. And, you know, Trudy really found her calling with that whole wax-sculpture thing. It was her dream to do something really incredible here. And then she had a couple a kids, and a picket fence.”

“That doesn’t sound so sad…” you interrupted, but he kept going.

“Trudy got a cyst in her brain. She just started rotting away. Couldn't work no more, and she went crazy. Things got so bad that Doc Sinclair finally had to strap her to the bed. The whole town could hear her screamin’. Dr. Sinclair was so depressed that he couldn't save her...he blew his head right off. It was worse for the boys, left alone like that. They both ended up in foster homes.”

“That’s terrible…” you mumbled. “Those poor kids…” you watched your feet crunch into the gravel. The story he told you genuinely upset you, and now you felt horrible for making so much fun of this poor little town, even if it was just in your head.

Bo sighed softly. “The town is still recoverin’ from it. That museum was the biggest source a income. I betcha can tell this ain’t the nicest place to live.” He chuckled, probably trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled, making eye contact with him. “No, I like it. I hate big cities anyways, a town like this seems like a nice place to settle down. Where everyone knows and can trust each other.”

“Maybe a resident like you could brighten up Ambrose a little.” He said, eyes not leaving yours. You felt your face go red hot. He was…flirting? With you? You looked down at your feet, stupid smile stretching across your whole face. You felt like you were reduced to a pile of Jell-O.

“Awe I dunno…” you said, but before you could say anything else, he cut you off. “This is the house. You and your friends sit tight. I’ll go check on that belt for ya, darlin’.” He winked at you before turning away.

You watched as he walked away, and you were convinced you were in love with this stranger. Michael stepped forward before Bo got too far away. “Hey man, would it be okay if I used your bathroom? We’ve been walking for a while.”

Bo nodded a little. “Sure. Come on in.” He said, opening the door and stepping to the side to make room for Michael. Stacy grabbed his arm. “You said we wouldn’t split up…” she whisper-yelled.

“It’s only for a second…just stay here and stay together.” He looked at both of you and then walked away, having to shake his arm from her grasp. She hugged herself uncomfortably, stepping closer to you as you both watched Bo and Michael disappear behind the door.

It’d been almost 20 minutes, according to Stacy’s now dead flip phone, since Michael and Bo had gone inside. At this point, you were both worried sick about Michael, but not brave enough to go inside and check things out for yourselves, until you hit the 25 minute mark. You watched as Stacy marched up to the front door, looking determined despite shaky hands and teary eyes, and banged on the door. Nothing.

She tried the handle, and to your surprise, the door swung open. She slowly began to go inside, and at this point, you decided you needed to go with her. You ran to catch up with her, seeing that all the lights were off inside. Your phone had died hours ago, leaving you both with no source of light.

“Michael?” Stacy yelled out, staying within arms length of the doorway. You held onto each other's arms, taking tiny steps further and further into the house. “Michael, please answer me!”

Squinting your eyes did absolutely nothing to help you see in the dark. It was pitch black, neither of you could see or hear anything. A loud creak broke the silence and you both frantically turned your heads to identify the noise. All of the sudden, Stacy began to shriek in your right ear. You jumped and covered your ears with your hands, feeling her fall to the ground. You screamed, backing up only to feel that the front door, which you knew you had left open, was closed. Stacy was screaming and crying on the ground, you could hear how low she was, but you didn’t know what was wrong. You tried yelling at her, asking her what happened, but all you got back was crying.

You shrunk to the floor, hands over ears in terror. A lamp flickering on illuminated your best friend on the floor, knife sticking from her spine and blood pooling around her writing body. You were bathed in yellow light from the left, but not enough to help you escape. You could feel tears fall down your cheeks when your eyes finally focused on Bo leaning against what looked like a kitchen counter, a cigarette pressed between his lips. He started to walk towards you, but you let out a yelp and turned quickly, pulling and wiggling on the door handle as hard as you could. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you back against a firm torso. You flailed and screamed, but to no avail. You were carried by Bo over to the couch where he tossed you down, pinning your body beneath his.

You were being suffocated in the heat of the couch cushions, fabric pushing hard against your face, and Bo shoving you down with his chest. You tried to push yourself up, but this only made your arms easier to grab. He pulled them behind your back and held them with one hand, the other gripping your hair and yanking your head back hard. You yelped at the burning pain in your scalp. He only lets go of your hair after he seems satisfied with the pain he’s caused you, and then, he moves down to trace the curve of your waist and hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then down to the inside of your thigh, grabbing the soft skin and pushing it outwards.

He grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ashes off over your clothes. You screamed and turned your head frantically only to see the end of a cigarette being pushed against your exposed shoulder, burning a small hole in its wake. You could feel the scorching pain radiate through your skin, almost distracting you from the way you were being engulfed in his musk.

Bo leaned down, knee painfully jabbed in between your shoulder blades forcing all the air from your lungs as you felt his lips against your ear, so close that you could smell the cigarette still on his breath.

“Fuckin’ pretty…” Bo growled. “Think I’ll keep you.”

[martincrushcameback]

Reading the latest chapter and

1 yay Zack redemption arch!!!!! Hmmm wonder if he does stay good how will it affect the others villain and his own villain ideology?

2 the scars on Chris, there from his back to sides, are they burn/electric marks or are they open wounds where his wings and arms would be?? Because if the suit fused to his body, then the wings and extra arms wouldn’t be machine but instead flesh and blood???

1: We shall have to see where this takes Zach~

2: Nice catch! They're scars from where his wings and arms used to be, a direct result of the DNA splicing going on with the malfunctions in the suit. This story hinges on the idea that the suits don't just make changes to the body by covering them in machinery, it augments and splices their DNA to a certain degree.

And like even canonically it kind of has to or it wouldn't be possible for certain suits to even make sense as just "mechanized suits they wear". Look at the long, stretched ostrich, flamingo, and heron necks, lengthened lemur arms, the whale size changing, the impossibility of hands fitting into gazelle hooves, and the animal instinct and behaviours when the suits malfunction.....

So yes, the scars are absolutely from his DNA splicing incorrectly and leaving marks where his wings and extra arms used to be.

[that-one-weird-simp]

KNY Monster AU

Yeah, i made another AU... Lol also some of these designs will not be based on their canon.

The monsters are the demons.. Hashira are the researchers... More on them later..

Muzan: he is basically his finale form, just the teethy mouths on his body replace his mouth on his face, his ears are pointed and his legs are animal like, yes he does have his Tentacles.

He has a tail that looks like a spinal cord with a blade at the tip of it. He has spikes at the base of it, his hands and feet are more animal like.

His calls are growls and screeches like a banshee.. His diet is raw animal meat and fish. But only certain species of Invasive fish or else he won't eat it.. He pick, the fish also have to be fresh water.

He must be fed 400 pounds of meat twice a day, or he'll get bitchy and screeches till someone feeds him.. He needs 800 pounds daily cause he burns alot of calories from how active he is.

His containment contains a shallow to a 20 foot deep pool, long grass and spider lilies to keep him calm (also his favorite flower) ropes of cable and chains for him to climb on.

He is is like a ferret.. Crackhead then a power nap.. Then more crackhead shit..

Behavior: oddly very playful, friendly and doesn't mind if any of the researchers, he would just be curious and check them out before doing his own thing.

Kokushibo: Basically his monster self just the weird ass appendages all over him are split into two rows on his back, His mouth is normal but he can unhinged his jaw like a snake and his hair is still in its nice pony tail, he does have two horns, but the right one is bigger then the other.

His is shirtless and he has thick furr from the waist down, his legs are also animal like and he has big cloven hooves. he has a thick based tail with a wipped thin end with some furr tuff at the end of it and its about 2 ft long while is tail is 6 feet long. He keeps his normal hight.

The noises he makes.. He is like a cheetah.. He meows and purrs, he can also chirp too..he did have a twin yoriichi but he unfortunately gotten deathly sick and passed. Other then that he is like an orange tabby cat..playful and loves it when you pet him.

His containment contains really long grass, a fresh water pool with some dummies so he can practice his hunting skills. He is a speed demon so everyday they would release him into a speed way type of room for him to run around and go wild in.

He also needs 800 pounds of beef daily. 400 pounds twice a day

Douma: he has a more disturbing appearance. His ScleraI is black, while his irisis are still rainbow with a slit pupil that is also black. His spine is visible and basically is sticking outof his bosy and is made of ice, same with his boney tail with a stinger at the end of it, his mouth is not normal.

Thats what his face looks like..

He needs to eat as much as kokushibo, he burns allot of calories crawling around in the vents that are present in his containment. He has to be kept in cold temperatures, he is pretty isolated so he gets bored and lonely easily, the researchers are making him a new location so he isnt so lonely. His diet constists of fish and pork, so 800 pounds of pork in the morning, 800 pounds of fish at night. He needs the calories for climbing and crawling at a fast pace.

He is very friendly around females, males don't faze him much, he tries to charm them and cuddle em.. The researchers are currently trying to find someone who is willing to spend the time with him.

He still wears his canon cloths but the back is ripped open for his patruding spine. his legs are animal like but are built for climbing and crawling, his claws are built like that too.

His calls are a number of shrieks and screams.. Basically a distressed demonic cat that is high on crack..

Akaza: he has the skull of a mountain lion, he does have long fluffy dear ears, the rims of the ears are blue. His blue stripes are made of fur, he still does have his hair but it trails down his spine and along his tail. His tail is thin but long. Like a crocs tail. He is a Quadruped and his he has paws.

His calls are like a lions mixed with a snow leopard. His containment contains things he can climb on, punching bags for his hunting skills. a pool so he can swim in. And a grass patch so he can role in it. He is neutral around others, doesn't mind anyone much.. Unless its kyojuro who is responsible for preparing the food..

Bro is all over him liie a touch starved puppy. He is disappointed when he has to leave to feed the others. He is not picky about his food he will eat any kind of meat. At least 200 pounds a day.. 100 pounds in the morn and 100 at night.

Hantengu and his kids (clones):

All of them are quad and bipedal. Each of them have animal skulls as their faces. Urogi should be obvious..

Urogi: hawk skull, his wings are fused with his arms and he does not have the pearl belt around his waist and he has the hawk tail feathers

Karaku: fox skull, ears are long and torn, his fox tail has the leaf shape at the tip (like his fan,also they are all naked but have fur down there waist and arms and have the feet of the animal they represent)

Aizetsu: cougar skull, the tip of his tail is the tip of his spear thats in canon.

Sekido: bear skull.. Nothing much to say about him..

Zohakuten: he is ligit just a nightmare fuel wooden dragon that slithers around.. Like the traditional japanese dragon

Hantengu: he is just a wooden goblin creature that just cowers in the corner and is close to dying of old age.

They eat together and need the same amount of food... 4 tons of beef daily. there exhibit is currently in repair cause urogi decided to be a shit and reck the AC because it gets hot. So they are in a empty temporary.. Room...

Gyokko: nothing much changed about his second form he just has more monstrous features and has a croc like face and his colors are different, he is more piebald with a gradient of blues and purples. His also has betta fish fins at the end of his tail.

Gyutaro and daki: gyutaro was almost a successful experiment, he is a mix of a utah raptor, but he doesn't have the feathers just some spikes that replace them.. Instead of a pony tail on the top of his head its actually a low pony tail. He has his original torso, but his arms and legs are ones of a utah raptor.

Daki, or ume. Was almost successful.. Her genetics were mixed with what were supposed to be Kaigaku and Nakime.. She was given clothing but she is almost fully human, she can eat human food, but her behavior and biology is different..

We don't have an enclosure for them yet since we are still doing testing.

Enmu: He is an interesting one.. He has a lion like nose, half his face is metal, both sclera are black, but he kept his blue irises. His pupils are shaped as X's. There is fluff along his right arm and metal on his left. He has long fennec fox ears that are really fluffy, he has Quadruped legs, one leg is fluffy while the other is metal.. We took some pictures for reference.

The little hairs that grow from the back of his head.. They were replaced with his ears.. His tale is a long, thick table cord attached to a grappling hook like device.

His enclosure is full of metal scraps and things for him to climb on.. He eats the metal scraps and we refill it once a month.. He screams as comunaction.. Like a baby snow leopard and a fox.. he has screaming matches with rui since the enclosures are next to each other..

Rui: he is the only one that is 95% successful.. His structure and everything, no mutations or any monstrous features.. But his biology still needs work and his vocals.. He sounds like a fox mixed with a cat.. He does haves screaming matches with enmu.. We do put them together, they seem to get along well..

*NOTE: all of the creatures shown are in the juvenile stage. This is not their final form and may mutate further*

This was one of the reported documents we found in the ruin building.. It seemed to contain immataions of beloved characters from the series kimetsu no yaiba.. Or known as demon slayer.. We have received information that the substances and technology used to make these creatures, also made the half the staff.. Their names were

Iguro obanai Shinobu kocho Kanea kocho Kanoa Tsyuri Mitsuri konroji Kyojuri rengoku Gyomei Himejima Muichiro tokito Yuichiro tokito Senami shinzugawa Genya shinazugawa Giyuu tomioka Tengen uzui Tanjiro kamado Nezuko kamado Zenitsu agatsuma Inosuke Hashibira

There has been video footage of the staff getting infected by the same substance used to create the demons. Since there is no trace of them we can assume they are all on the loose.. No doubt that the staff are also mutated creatures as well..

[silversupremacy]

Small tutorial on how you design your critters?? You're a inspiration to me I must learn- And, if you want, tutorial on how you draw limbs?

God ok so that's sooo broad that I'm gonna try to sum it up but if you have additional questions feel free to ask I love answering stuff!

So first tutorial on limbs I did in the past here!

This is specifically furry hind legs. And additionally here's my tutorial on paws

If you want a more detailed tutorial, or an arm/front leg tutorial, or specific materials/more species let me know!

OK AN D now how I design object-creatures

I'm assuming you meant object creatures and not just all my creatures, cause I design a lot of little guys.

So I usually have four-ish things I go for in a design depending on the chara-

First is just taking x thing from the object they are and just accenting it. For example, Pepper's tail and ears are Peppercorn plant.

And OJ has that straw tail

So these features aren't really there because they're based on an animal. They're just there cause "orange juice drink, oh maybe they would have a straw tail"

Two, using canon in my design, either through the character's personality, or something taken from the canon.

For example, Baseball in s2 has to tape his pickaxe to his leg to use it. So logically, he wouldn't have little hands to hold the pickaxe with, so that's why I went with hooves! Then from there, I had the idea that he could use his tail to deliver powerful kicks with his legs by leaning back on it (like a kangaroo)

Another example is Fan, he's shown to be able to glide in canon so a lot of people go with bird vibes for him!

Though alternatively, you could also be inspired by the Gliding Snake, the Draco Lizards, or Sugar Gliders! There's a whole bunch of gliding creatures.

And more of a personality thing would be how I give Nickel a little spade tail cause he's a little rat bastard (affectionate). He also has nimble little rat hands cause he's more crafty and sneaky.

Third thing, Including Spec Bio stuff and just neat concepts

This is kinda crossed with the "what would fit this object" thing. But notice that I gave Apple an apple blossom tail. Well then, I developed this idea that maybe the flower would release scents to convey how she feels. Like she might subconsciously release a scent her partner (cough cough marshmallow) finds pleasant in order to relax them. I got this idea from the theory that cats communicate a lot through scent, and it's kinda theorized that cats might release a scent around their human that makes them wanna be friends (with mixed results).

And here for example, Lifering is basically made for ocean life. The idea is that he has a heavy layer of blubber in the winter to keep him warm, and the only difference people would notice is that his 'nose' hole would be smaller. He also has ears that he can use to communicate using them as 'flags' and a tail that he can use to light up in morse code. So basically he's perfect for ocean rescue.

Fourth thing, it just looks cool so why not do it. Clover didn't have a ton of traits go into her design beyond the Clover Flower tail, but she's just kinda nice to look at. Ultimately 99% of her body shape is just cause it's a good design.

And additionally, a lot of my creatures are made from just my vague and rough knowledge of creatures. I have just read a lot of animal facts in my life and kinda just recall a lot of what I've read and seen.

So just having wide knowledge of animals on earth helps a lot! Another part of me making an object-creature is just going "what animal do they remind me of"

Oh and a misc note abt my creatures, I have very few rules but one of them I try to keep to is that they have three toes and four fingers (three fingers one thumb). Some leg only objects have four toes technically (three fingers one thumb) But the idea is connected to how animal life on earth is built roughly the same. Like how bats have five fingers, they just stretched out looong into wings. And cats have five fingers on their front paws but only four on their back, But there's evidence of ancestors having those five toes Im p sure.

It's a similar thing abt how we can find specific bones in birds similar to our own arm and leg bones. Just considering what the path of evolution of these objects is neat.

But since objects reproduce via. magic exclusively in my verse, I kinda just do whatever! It's the reason why traits kinda got jumbled up (ex. mammal with reptile traits) cause the use of magic kinda just scrambled things.

Uhm hope this helps??? let me know if you have more questions ig????

[insipid-drivel]

There are a hilarious number of reasons that a zombie apocalypse just... would not happen the way the movies and TV tries to show. Even The Walking Dead, where it's supposed to be canon that the TWD universe has never had a concept of zombies or undeath before the events of the show/comic.

Things That The Human Body Categorically Sucks At Coping With No Matter How Immune To Pain/Death We Are:

-Insect and parasite infestations. Zombies would become walking bug fuck-factories and eaten down to nothing so fast. Especially if you stick with the "destroying the brain kills a zombie" canon, carrion insects usually infest the skull cavity of a carcass first! I grew up in wild settings, and I have seen my fair share of animal carcasses in various stages of decomposition, and the skull always gets worked on first. If a large predator like a coyote doesn't literally tear the head off and take it, flies and insects want to breed inside of skulls: it keeps larvae safe from other predators like birds, and there's a fatty, soft brain in there for the larvae to subsist on until they're ready to pupate and re-hatch into their adult states.

-Carrion birds, especially corvids. Do you really think ravens and crows would give a fuck about nomming on zombies after they had a few weeks to adjust on a global scale to walking carrion factories that Thrash A Little Sometimes? Hell no! You'd be seeing entire cyclones of ravens and crows crooning their heads off in the sky above any zombies. Carrion animals are also highly relationship-opportunistic, meaning that they'll often form working partnerships with other animals to make hunting and finding food easier. Crows and ravens already have symbiotic hunting relationships with wolves. It would not take them long to figure out that warning living humans of zombies = fast way to get the humans to do the hard work of making the zombies stop that annoying shuffling so they can chow down.

-Especially regarding TWD: A group of zombies COULD NOT take down a horse, much less a fucking tiger. I laughed so goddamn hard at how horses are depicted in the TWD universe and how obvious the horses are actually responding to commands to lie down when the zombies "overwhelm" them. Horses, especially when threatened, get absolutely fucking murderous and become even more violent and unpredictable than most predatory animals. Most people misunderstand this, but prey animals are often more likely to go berserk and overkill the shit out of someone or something than predatory animals in the wild. Horses stomp, kick, bite, and even jump off all four hooves in order to kick front and back at the same time. They will use their body weight to roll/crush/scrape you to death if they don't want you touching them or riding them. They will bite entire hands off, spit them out, and lunge to chew you to pieces even more. A single horse would easily be able to pulverize groaning zombies into mincemeat - and do not even get me started on mules. And a tiger? Look, I lived in Las Vegas when the Siegfried and Roy incident happened. Spoiler alert: The tiger was not trying to "help" Roy.

-Domestic cats and dogs would be the bane of zombie existence, especially lurker-type zombies that just lie there and wait for a passing survivor's leg to chomp on. When the chips are down and domestic animals are starving, they will eat pretty much anything. Domestic dogs especially, like coyotes and other canids, tend to take large pieces off of a piece of prey and disperse it around a wide area, as only the mothers and pups will actually eat at the same location without fighting. Males take a plate and go find a corner to hide in. (Also, other metropolitan cities around the world, such as some cities in India, have omnivorous monkeys and even leopards as regular alleyway and rooftop visitors; a band of pissed off monkeys would make short work of a zombie ANY day).

-FERAL PIGS HOLY SHIT. "Feral pigs" is just a nice way of saying "wild boar". While we've been domesticating pigs for thousands of years, pigs still retain genetic codes in their DNA that cause them to develop boar-like behaviors and physical traits when they begin to go feral after escaping a domestic setting. Even the tamest, sweetest pig will grow a bristly coat, large tusks, and even grow dramatically in size if it's allowed to go feral. Pigs and boar have the dentition and bite strength to pulverize human bone, and such potent stomach acids that it's literally impossible to identify DNA that's passed through a pig's digestive tract. Wild boar and feral pigs would absolutely annihilate swaths of zombies with terrifying efficiency and voracity thanks to their extraordinarily keen senses of smell and mid-sized-sedan hugeness in size.

-Just... winter. Freezing temperatures destroy tissue; any of you out there that's ever had to throw away freezerburned food knows this. Ice crystals form within the water molecules of anything that's subjected to freezing temperatures, and those crystals actually grow bigger and sharper the slower it takes for groceries to freeze (this applies to veggies, too!). No matter how intact the brain may be, zombies would be rendered functionally immobile from freezing temperatures and ice crystals destroying the muscle fibers and tissues they're trying to use to move with, if something somehow prevents their actual brains from freezing.

-Hot, dry weather. Jerky. Zombie jerky. Arid climates especially are notorious for drying out animal and human carcasses very quickly (like, within days), and even mummifying them. Even if a zombie's brain remained totally intact, they wouldn't be able to move from their semi-petrified, jerked muscle fibers that won't move anymore. Also, mummies are cool and not nearly as upsetting as zombies, IMHO. A mummy apocalypse would just be a neat way to experience history. I would be honored if Hatshepsut rose from her tomb and ate my face.

-Fish??? Take it from an experienced angler: Fish are gross. A lot of fish will scavenge and feed on just about anything they find, no matter how much decomposition there is. Common fish like rainbow trout are drawn to strong odors in water, from a piece of bait, to a chunk of beef jerky, to pieces of marshmallow (I know some fishermen that swear by marshmallows for bait), to a zombie floating around gurgling at perturbed survivors in an aluminum flat-bottom boat. It's not just piranhas that will pick a dead body clean: it's anything that doesn't require live prey or vegetation to survive. Even sharks will prefer to scavenge an already-dead prey item, like a whale, than hunt live prey, because it's safer for them as predators to eat food that poses 0 risk of fighting back and potentially injuring them and preventing them from hunting.

-Adiposere. This is really obscure, but one I've wondered about for a while: When a dead body is subjected to certain conditions, such as submerging to sub-zero temperature water with very low oxygen content like the bottom of Lake Superior, weird stuff can happen to fatty tissues. Especially in wet conditions, fat that's exposed to certain external elements actually turns into a white, soapy substance called adipose. Adipose, very loosely, is a natural form of soap that occurs when stuff like fat on a dead animal or person is exposed to the right conditions (after all, the very first bars of soap were made from animal fat, and the same recipes for soap used hundreds of years ago still maintains the same cleaning efficiency is most hand soaps today). So, what about a zombie brain? Our brains are mostly composed of fat, so can a zombie even function if its brain turned into a block of soap?

If zombies were real, you wouldn't first be warned by the approaching horde by their smell, by their groans, not even a cloud of smoke of the dust they raise coming closer from the horizon. It would be the flies. Hordes and hordes of insects, corpse-flies laying eggs on the carcasses of people who still walk, eating the eyeballs from their sockets, climbing across their unfeeling leathery skin. And the buzzing. The inescapable, deafening buzzing. Everywhere. Like you did not just kick a hornet's nest, but the very ground you walk on was a hornet nest, and each step caused another explosion of insects.

Insects, corpse flies, the buzzing. Their swarms blacken the skies, more horrifying than their migrating meals. The deafening cacophony of constant buzzing, the horrid noise of the living who feast on the dead who feast on the living. The buzzing.

The endless, inescapable buzzing.

[thehomeofduck]

Curse of the Fold | Chapter 5

Rating: Explicit (Violence, Sexual Content) Pairing: Daryl/Buck, M/M, Canon/OC

Wattpad || AO3 [Masterlist] || [Prev] || [Next]

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January 10th, 2011.

The walkers broke through yesterday. Caved a whole section of the outer fence in and were diving in like hellbent piranhas.

Rick and Daryl drove them off with the pigs. Got rid of several and allowed the others to help put up posts. 

I felt like I should’ve helped, but I couldn’t make myself move. I hate feeling like this. Every time they get so close, I panic. 

Before the fence went down, there was an outbreak within the prison. Kid had a disease that killed and turned him. Now anyone could be infected too, including everyone that was in there during that chaos. I could be as well. I haven’t shown any symptoms yet.

“Buck?”

I pull my head from my journal. Remembering my surroundings. I was outside with Dutch again. He rested behind me, enjoying the feel of grass on his coat as he lay with Flame. 

“We’re thinking of going just out of town to run for supplies. I thought I’d ask you to come with us. Extra hands are always nice.” Michonne walked up to me. 

I closed my journal, thinking for a second. I wanted to help, and I didn’t like just sitting around all day. “I don’t mind coming.”

She gave me a soft smile. “Good, okay taking Dutch? The boys already claimed the other seats.”

I rolled my eyes, standing and closing my journal. “Yea, that’s fine by me.” I turned to put the book into the saddlebag. “I’ll get him set.”

“Thank you.” I heard the crinkling of paper, turning to her. She held out a folded up map. “It’s already got the place marked down.” 

I took it from her, nodding in a silent thank you. She turned, walking back to the car where the others were packing what they needed.

I turned my intention to the lovebirds, well lovehorses. “Come on, Dutch.” I grabbed his lead. He watched, knowing exactly what was wanted. He seemed to contemplate, only to get up anyway. 

My hands fell down to my sides as I waited. Dutch leaned down to Flame, touching noses and giving a soft snort to her. She let out a sigh, snorting back. He turned back to me, waiting. 

I took the time to fasten his lead. I shoved a stool over with my foot, grabbing his saddle off the fence. Swinging it over him, I made sure it was secure. I watched as he played with the lead in his mouth, swinging the rope back and forth. Chuckling to myself as I stood on the stool, I climbed over him. I tapped at his side, the spurs of my boots gently rubbing on him, signaling him to go. 

Dutch trotted down the road, and we left the main gates. Following Michonne and the others in the car from a bit back. I let Dutch make his own way down the road, pulling my revolver from the saddle holster. I checked to make sure it was loaded, before strapping it to the one on my own hip.

I looked around; the roads were bare. Walkers mostly wandered the forests because of the smell of animals. Although they were usually rotted. The car had been out of sight from a turn, but I wasn’t too worried. It was a long stretch of road to the highway, no turns along the way.

I started to speed up a bit as time went on, getting Dutch into a canter, so I didn’t fall too far behind. 

The faint sound of gurgling walkers hit my ears. I assumed it had just been a few on the road that wondered from the sound of the car. I glance down at the map. After this next turn, it was just a long stretch to the highway. I shove the map back into Dutch’s saddlebag. 

Looking up, I quickly grabbed Dutch’s lead, pulling it back roughly. He skidded to a stop. Hundreds, maybe even a thousand walkers, covered everything in front of me. The entire road, even the highway that was yards away. 

My heart started to pound out of my chest as I looked around. Walkers grew closer, leading Dutch to stand on two hooves. His high-pitched scream pierced my ears. But I couldn’t cover them. I gripped hard onto the lead and saddle to not be thrown off, his front hooves slammed back onto the ground, sending me forward. 

I sat back up, looking around me again for some way out. Walkers grew close behind us. I could see walkers laying on the ground and then a pile of them. The car that was once driving in front of me had been stacked on top of walkers, doors open and empty. I couldn’t check for sure without being surrounded or having Dutch throw me off. 

I pulled his lead to the left, quickly guiding him towards the trail of walkers. He took off in a canter, ducking into an open spot in the bushes. Dead walkers lay scattered while leftover ones roamed. 

“Easy boy, easy.” I spoke softly, despite my own fear rippling through my body. I tried to act calm for him. Panicking would only freak him out. I led him through around the walkers, speeding up when needed to get around them. We were both up on alert, being careful of every angle around us. I was so tense.

I grabbed my map out to check where to go now. I could barely keep my eyes on it for more than a few seconds. The route wasn’t too complicated. There was a trail I could get to. It’d lead to a creek and a bridge, then back out to the road. I’d just have to follow it until I hopefully found the others.

The walkers grew less and less, all too slow to follow. 

“Easy.” Dutch slowed at the command. We approached the trail, and I began to follow. Even while away from all the walkers, I still felt paranoid. I never knew for sure if I’d be okay. It’s why I never liked going out alone or in forests. One wrong turn and you could be at a dead end. One wrong move and you could fall down a hill. I didn’t know the area well either. 

I could hear the soft sounds of running water. As we walked through the trees and bushes, I saw the creek. I followed down the trail beside it, spotting the bridge afar. I slowed Dutch to a stop, pulling my legs up over him and sliding off his back. 

He leaned down, already starting to munch on some grass below. I walked to the edge of the creek, crouching down to cup my hands in the water. I pulled it to my face, rubbing the cold water over my skin. Cleaning off any dirt and waking me up a bit. I suck in a breath, realizing the water was colder than I had first thought. I shake it off, cleaning up my hands. 

I heard a snort from Dutch behind me. I turned to look at him. His ears were pointed straight forward and he looked around on high alert. I stood to observe him. He looked towards the bush beside him as it began to rustle. 

Before I could call him over, he let out a loud whinny, a walker coming from the bushes to grab for him. I tried to get my footing on the rocky edge, running towards him. He took off in a hurry.

“Dutch!” I followed after him, calling to grab his attention back. He continued to run, startled at other walkers along the way.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” I tried to follow him, only able to run so fast. 

Something yanked on my ankle as I ran, sweeping my feet out from under me. When my vision cleared, I found myself upside down, looking back to where I'd come.

I try to look around, barely able to twist my body. I looked down. There was about a six-foot space between me and the ground. I was very clearly hanging. I look back up, swinging a bit to take a look at my legs. One of my ankles was strung up by a thick rope, the other hanging. I took a moment to try and process it. I was just trying to catch up to Dutch. And now I’m swinging upside from some rope in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. 

I pulled my free leg up a bit, getting it a bit more comfortable so I hadn’t strained. Reaching into my side holster and digging out my hunting knife. I froze, hearing rustling from the bushes. The walkers had followed me down the path. I scrambled to pull myself up, shaky and panicked. I tried to saw at the rope. My back was straining, as I couldn’t get a good angle.

I let out a huff, falling back. The blood rushed back down to my head, making it pound. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and focus. My eyes fluttered open, only to widen as a walker was right in front of me. It reached towards my face.

“Fuck!” I grabbed a hold of its wrist, shoving it up and out of the way. Without another thought, I brought my knife down onto its head, letting it immediately drop. The handle slipped from my fingers as the walker's weight dropped. I tried to grab it but couldn't get a grip. My body swung from left to right. 

I patted along my body, trying to feel for any other knives. I hadn’t brought any more with me. The other walkers weren’t far off, but too close for my own comfort. I didn’t have a knife to cut the rope, I couldn't tug it off. Only other thing I could do was pull myself up.

I sigh, taking deep breaths to try and relax. Catching my breath, I pulled myself up. I grabbed onto the rope with one hand, using it as leverage to pull me up more. The rope burned into my hands as they slid against the rough texture, making me hiss. I took a deep breath in, holding it. My body strained and pulled as I forced myself up, climbing the rope with every new inch I could reach. 

I finally let out a gasp, sitting upright. I tried not to put weight on my foot as it’d only grow tighter. Pushing myself further, I pulled my body up the rope more. I wiggled my foot, and the rope became loose without pressure. My hands grew sweaty, and I was losing grip on the rope. I slid down despite my desperate grasps at it. Only burning and cutting open my palms on tiny bristles of rope.

I looked below me. Walkers were closer now. But I also couldn’t stay up here forever. I try to ease myself down as much as I can, letting go and bracing myself for the six foot drop. Pain shot through my shin as it hit the ground. I could only sit for a second before forcing myself up, ripping the knife from the walker that lay dead. 

I turned, shoving it through the eye socket of the one that approached me. I twisted the knife and pulled back, not looking behind me as I ran past. Pain seemed to shoot through my leg with every step, making me limp and hold my breath. I brought two fingers to my lips, letting out a loud whistle, hoping Dutch would come. I followed the long trail, knowing it at least led to the road.

My heart pounded and I let out another sharp whistle. Nothing. I heard no whinny, and I heard no hooves hitting the ground. Only the sounds of walkers emerging from the surrounding forest. I got slower; the pain was harsh, and I felt like I was just breaking myself further. I tried to shift more weight onto my other leg. I couldn’t stop. Using my gun would only cause more noise and I didn’t want to risk it with what I already caused. 

I tried another whistle. Still nothing. Where the fuck was he?

[levi-my-beloved]

Chapter Four: The Ackerbond Loves

Pairing: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, so. much. smut. like maybe the best i’ve ever written who knows, standard hj we love those here, Levi being a dumb hoe, reader being a dumb hoe, heavy themes of abuse, implied abuse victim, coping mechanisms, reader almost dying cuz Gunther’s ass is so thick (canon).

A/N: this is almost 20k words. i’ve decided against being apologetic because i think we all know what i'm like at this point. enjoy the good times now because it’s about to get a whole lot worse :)

GO SHOW @peace-for-levi ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD FOR LITERALLY BETA READING 19 THOUSAND WORDS OF INCOHERENT GARBAGE. fr i need to buy you a drink or sommin

AND NATURALLY, credit to @levmada for the conceptttt <3

Taglist: @levmada @awesomeness1679 @purplecandygerl @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @pluvio-pluto @midnightbarnes97 @aresclouds @imkumichan @xxpadfootxx @cmjh3 @justa19 @notgoodforlife @leviackermanmyhero245 @kaea-peverall @jakillski @macaronnv @natalie-skz @oldtownwonderland @snailsposts @lunardeiity @clusiesuzie @hi-imkaiya @isabellawigginss @ackermandick @orionsalos @disaster-writer @temariskadi @nariko1989 @elizaack @dixie-chick @death-by-bullseye

The moment your squad approached the old Scout HQ after half a day’s ride, your heart instantly sank. Cobblestone bricks veined with deep green moss, dried dead vines hanging limply from every archway, windows filthy with years of grime, abandoned to run amok. 

You sighed heavily to the natural ambiance of Oluo once again biting down on his tongue, and Petra’s scolding tone. Though the late afternoon light cast a picturesque glow on the old castle, you really didn’t feel like suffering through an intense cleaning spree. Though, of course, it was inevitable. 

Hooves clacked against the change of terrain as you slowed to a gentle stop. It was peaceful here, away from the city and the bustling crowds of busy tradesmen. Only the distant sound of birds could be heard from the surrounding trees. It was pretty beautiful. 

“Nice place,” you murmured to Eld as you dismounted, running your stirrups up the leathers so they wouldn’t bumble against your horse’s flanks as she walked. “Shame about the weeds though.”

“And I bet the inside’s a shambles. This place hasn’t been used for years,” he responded, slapping two pats against the side of his horse’s neck. You placed a hand on your hip, opening your mouth to respond, before instantly closing it again upon Levi’s interruption.

“In which case we have a problem. Best grab a broom and get to work.”

You stifled your groan of agony. Seriously? Cleaning? After that ride? The sky was just fading into early evening and Levi wanted to clean? Inevitable, yes. Fair? Absolutely not.

You and Eld looked at each other briefly, before sighing as Petra took both your horses. You cursed her as she silently claimed grooming duty. Why couldn’t you have been that smart? She sent you a knowing smirk from over her shoulder, as if she knew what you were thinking.

You instantly flipped her off. 

“Eld! Wanna take the windows with me?” Once again, you were too slow to claim a good job as Gunther stepped up before you even had a chance to suggest something. The windows seemed so easy! All you had to do was wash off the grime! So you weren’t surprised when Eld agreed, not so much as sending you a glance before striding off to grab a bucket and cloth. Oluo had, of course, gone off to do his own thing, which left you with Levi. A strangely ideal situation, all things considered.

“I hate you for this,” you deadpanned, still looking up at the monstrous task facing you.

“No, you don’t.” Levi responded, coming to stand at your side and following your gaze up at the castle. You fought down the urge to take his hand. Now is not the time, nor the place to try and figure out what the hell you two were.

Levi was in no better position. Whatever happened yesterday was stuck in his head. Your lidded gaze, soft lips, gentle smile… it was all pinned to a wall for his mind’s eye to stare at longingly. Glancing at you, he saw your lips in a forceful pout, and knew you were trying to suppress a smile. He, too, almost took your hand, fingers outstretched to hook your fingers together.

“Uh, Captain Levi Sir?” 

He swore then and there that if he was ever interrupted with you again, he would slash the throat of whoever barged in. “What?”

Eren cleared his throat behind you, and you turned as well, taking slight pity on him. It couldn’t be easy, trying to slip seamlessly into such a tight knit squad. You’d all almost completely forgotten he was here, only Oluo running his mouth to the ‘Greenhorn’. Poor fucking kid. 

“Just start cleaning, Eren. This place is a shithole and we have standards. You can start on the top floor and work your way down. We’ll meet you somewhere in the middle,” you instructed, pointing to the large double doors in front of you. “Petra should be back soon, but it’s up to her whether or not she decides to join you.” You threw a sideways glance in the direction of the stables, knowing full well she would be taking her time. 

Not that you could blame her.

“Got it!” Eren saluted stiffly, before running off to find himself a broom and a cloth. Once again, his enthusiasm sent a shiver down your spine, being reminded of Oluo’s overly enthusiastic, kiss-ass attitude. You knew Eren was just eager to prove himself, but he could tone it down just a little.

“Someone’s eager to please.” Levi muttered to you, and you sighed in response. 

“Can’t blame him really. He’s been thrown into a situation where suddenly the fate of humanity rests on whether or not he can prove his worth. Not to mention his life. If he fails here, he’s dead. It’s no wonder he’s eager to please.” 

You hadn’t meant to ramble on. You knew Levi didn’t really mean anything by it, but you felt the need to justify Eren anyway. You sure as shit wouldn’t want to have been beaten to a bloody pulp, thrown in with the Special Operations Squad, scrutinised by both the Scouts and the Military Police, before being forced to sit through one of Oluo’s “you’re new here so let me mansplain everything to you.” Honestly, maybe death was more favourable.

Levi softened infinitely at your far-away expression, having another war with himself to not take your hand. “It’s a miracle how you made it this far with a heart that big.”

How the fuck he said that with the utmost nonchalance you will never know, because your mind completely shut down, barely managing a breathy, shaky laugh. Your heart beating with the thunder of a galloping horse, you turned to look at him, only to see him looking back at you slightly wide-eyed. Could he feel your sudden change in demeanour, or was he looking like that because he’d only just realised what he said. You hoped to the fucking Walls it was the second option.

Managing to recover somewhat, your lips reluctantly pulled into a small smile. “If you wanna talk about big hearts, let’s talk about Evelyn, hm?” 

It was Levi’s turn to blank. Hating his blood for dusting across his cheeks, burning in his ears. Fuck, he’d walked straight into that one. But, as you relaxed with your smile becoming a little more genuine, Levi silently agreed that it was worth it. “You’re right… She does have a big heart.” His chest bloomed with your faux irritation, with the way you forced your face to fall. But he could see you were struggling to keep your expression, and Levi barely managed to stifle a laugh when you chose to start walking away instead.

“I hate you and you know that’s not what I meant.” If only you could hear the smile in your voice. Levi vaguely wondered if you would fall for yourself the same way he’s fallen for you. He went to tell you that, once again, you most definitely do not hate him, before a bolt of agony lashed through his head and his eyes lost focus. 

On instinct he reached out for your arm and viciously tugged you back into him, and you didn’t have time to question what the fuck he thought he was doing before the deafening crash and slosh of a full, steel waterbucket cracked against the ground behind you.

You stayed there for a moment, face nestled in the soft cloth of his cravat, only barely processing what happened.

Levi kept his steady hold around you as his eyes refocused on the fallen, badly dented bucket, horrified by the idea that, had he not pulled you back, you would most likely be dead right now. The thought made him tighten his arms around you. 

“You alright?” His voice was the soft, steady anchor you needed to keep you grounded, deep vibrations soothing the heart that now raced for an entirely different reason. This was achingly similar to the first time he saved your life this way, seeing your fate and stepping in to change it. Achingly similar to the way he continued to hold you after, soothing your trembling muscles. Admittedly this wasn’t nearly as terrifying as being in the clutches of a titan, but you were still a little shaken.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine,” you nodded, reluctantly stepping out of his arms and looking back to the turned over bucket, the cobbles now a darker shade of grey where the water had tipped out. “This bond coming in clutch once again, huh?” 

Levi saw through it. He always could. He saw through your flippant attempt at humour, knew it was just you trying to maintain your composure. But he was learning your tells. Learning how you kept a brave face so seemingly easily. Staring at whatever nearly happened was one of them. He didn’t think when he gently pulled your chin back to look at him, quickly scanning your face, tighter than usual with anxiety. He took a deep breath, wordlessly forcing you to do the same. The faintly echoing heartbeat in his chest calmed.

“You’re okay.” He tucked a slightly loose strand of your hair back into place, and watched with proud satisfaction as you untensed. Deciding to push his luck slightly, he grazed the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone, heart glowing as you leaned into the touch ever so slightly. His skin prickled, and he couldn’t tell whether it originated from you, or whether that was just the effect touching you had on him. Whatever it was, you felt it as well, obvious by your slight shiver. 

Levi dropped his hand as panicked footsteps raced down the wooden staircase, both turning to greet a panting, sweating Eld, looking wide-eyed and terrified between you two through the open doorway.

“Fucking– is everyone okay?” He asked through laboured breaths. You smiled through a soft chuckle, trying to reassure the clearly stressed blonde as he fiddled with the hem of his jacket. 

“Yeah, we’re–”

“You almost fucking killed her.” You’d never heard Levi speak to his own squad with such venom in his tone. If they’d done something stupid like almost died, he would just tell them flatly to not do it again. He’d never really had a go at any of them, not in the same way you’d seen him have a go at Hange. But this… this was more similar to the time Oluo almost died in one of her titan crazed moments, when he’d held them by the collar and borderline spat in their face. You moved forward to mask the way you quickly held and squeezed his arm. A subtle, but meaningful gesture. 

Eld looked like he was about to faint. “I’m so sorry! Gunther and his fat ass. Idiot knocked it back off the roof squatting to fix his gear. Fuck, we didn’t think anyone would be–”

“–Eld, I’m fine. I promise. Look” – you held your hands up in front of you, turning a full circle so he could see – “no damage. I’m absolutely fine.” You implored until you heard him breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful both that you were okay, and his balls wouldn’t be roasted over an open fire.

“Tell Gunther to watch where he’s shitting next time.” You turned back to Levi, who had seemed to have calmed down significantly. Though there was still a slight bite in his voice, he wasn’t nearly as blindingly furious as he was a few seconds ago. Was that because of you? Or because it was a genuine accident? It was difficult to tell. 

Eld nodded all too eagerly, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with the heel of his palm. Oh you were totally teasing him about this later. That was until he looked between you and Levi again, his expression completely different from before. He looked… knowing. Almost proud. You narrowed your eyes at him in threatening confusion, and he simply shook his head with a smile, and turned away back up the stairs. 

“You two are so fucking weird together,” Levi commented, stepping up to stand next to you again. You gaped at him with incredulity.

“Shut up!” 

“Didn’t you like him at one point?” He smirked at you out of the corner of his eye, and you groaned.

“Was I really that obvious?”

“About as obvious as Hange’s love for titans.”

You groan again, slightly louder. Levi tried his fucking best not to imagine the sound in… other situations. “Clearly not obvious enough, the bastard never even realised until after I’d moved on!” you lamented, gathering a few cloths from the table inside the front hall and removing his jacket from your shoulders before hanging it on the back of a chair. 

He folded his arms, surveying you with a raised brow. “How do you know?”

“We spoke about it yesterday when walking to the market. We were just talking about– stuff” – that was a little too close – “and it sort of just came up in conversation. Turns out we’re both just morons.”

“That’s for sure.” 

“...Levi, that was your opportunity to disagree.”

“Why would I disagree with facts?”

He barely dodged the cloth you threw at him, once again your irritated façade cracking easily. “Go get your special cleaning doily and join me upstairs. I cannot stand to see your face right now.” An obvious lie.

“It’s not a doily, doilies are made of lace.”

“And you would know that how?” You asked, drawling. Levi pulled a lopsided smile at you, answering with a single word that had you cackling with laughter when he left to grab his kit.

“Evelyn.”

It was late evening by the time Levi deemed the castle spotless enough to hole up in for a few weeks. Everybody was drained by the time the squad had gathered in a small dining room in what you assumed would have been the servant’s wing. Tea in hand, you engaged in idle chatter with the rest of your squad, waiting for the arrival of Levi and Eren. 

“So wait, you think Nifa and Moblit have something going on?” Petra asked to a smug looking Gunther across the table, who nodded in confirmation. “You were there at the last strip poker game, right? He could barely tear his eyes off Hange and they barely took anything off!” She argued with a vigour that made you laugh. Her hazel eyes turned to you, wide eyed in desperate need of support. “You’ve heard the way she talks about–”

“Petra!” You had to stop her before she revealed one of Nifa’s deepest secrets. Eld and Oluo seemed to perk up instantly.

“Oh, you can’t do that to us!”

“Come on, no secrets in the squad, remember?” 

Eld looked to you at that comment, raising a pointed brow. You sent him another confused look, but he simply looked away and back to the conversation at hand. You were confident nobody was around to see what happened earlier, so what the hell he could be referring to other than that, you had no idea. 

“That’s not fair, because this isn’t my secret. It’s Nifa’s, so butt out of it, all of you,” Petra held firm, folding her arms against the disappointed looks and huffs from the men. 

You hummed a soft laugh, your heart glowing with fondness for this group of people. And of course, the one missing. 

It’s as if he were summoned by your fleeting thought about him, both Levi and the newest addition to your squad came through the door from the left, Eren looking a little despondent. You assumed he just found out where he’d be sleeping… Poor kid.

“They here yet?” You shook your head as Levi took a seat at the head of the table to your right. Though nobody ever expected Hange to be on time. It was somewhat of a habit that they were always late to meetings, missions, even the start of their own expeditions, usually caught up in some research or experiment and didn’t notice the rest of the regiment going grey when waiting for them. “Might as well do introductions whilst we wait then. Eren, this is the Special Operations squad,” Levi continued, and you noticed the rest of your comrades straightening in their seats when being introduced. For ease, he introduced you first. “My Second, but you already knew that.”

“Wait, you’ve met already?” Gunther piped up from the other side of the table. “How’s that fair?”

“I was at the trial.” You explained swiftly, earning yourself a look of sudden understanding from the rest of your inquiring squad. Though Oluo audibly huffed from his seat, clearly perturbed that he wasn’t the one invited. Levi went on to introduce everyone else, who in turn greeted Eren in their own ways. Petra with a bright smile, Eld with a friendly wave, Gunther with a lopsided grin and of course Oluo with some kind of backwards insult. Naturally.

“These are the people who won’t hesitate to put you down if you go ape shit out there. I hand picked them all for a reason. Don’t fuck up, and we won’t have a problem. Do fuck up, and they have strict permission to act accordingly. Personally, I wouldn’t want to find myself at the end of any of their blades.” High praise coming from Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. A flare of pride flashed in your chest, despite already knowing he recognised everybody’s potential years ago. That’s why you were all here. Because you were deemed strong enough by the strongest soldier alive. You glanced around the table to see your comrades looking in similar ways to you. Gritty determination shining in the low light.

“I… I understand, Sir. It’s nice to meet you all.” You had to admire the kid. Even in the face of his potential killers, he managed to keep some semblance of collectiveness. From what you’d heard, Eren could be quite hotheaded. Not unlike yourself at times. There were certain things in yourself you hoped to see in this kid, and certain things you hoped to fuck stayed away. 

Before the silence prolonged any further, a loud pair of footsteps echoed down from the door on the left. The barred door on the left. You almost slapped your forehead before the inevitable impact even happened. 

Petra sighed, rising from her seat to remove the wooden bolt from the door, and allowing an excited looking Hange, rubbing the side of their head. You almost couldn't believe it, having not expected them to arrive until much later. You smiled in lighthearted surprise. 

“Gooooood evening, Levi squad! How’s castle life treating ya?” Hange’s ability to lighten up a room was always something you admired. You remembered Levi asking why you liked hanging out with them so much. Honestly, this was why. Their boundless energy rubbed off on those around them, though of course he seemed to be immune. But you enjoyed watching the antics, and smiling at Moblit’s frazzled looks. It was a nice return to some kind of normality after an expedition. 

Your eyes slid to Eld opposite you, whose smile mirrored your own. He too found Hange amusing to watch, the scientist often being a popular topic of conversation between the two of you. Your hands steepled in front of your mouth, hiding your subtle laugh.

“You’re early.” Levi responded, taking a long sip of the tea that was waiting for him when he joined you all. Judging from the above par taste, you’d made it. You were getting better at that. He tried to stop his heart blossoming at the thought. 

“Am I? Well I suppose I couldn’t wait. Hi, Eren! I hope this lot have been treating you well.” You watched Hange jovially drag a chair over to where the teen was sitting next to Oluo. You snorted quietly at the unsure look on Eren’s face. “Excited to start experimenting?! Levi! What’s Eren doing tomorrow?” 

“Cleaning out the weeds.” You glanced at his impassive expression of boredom. You didn’t envy whoever would be taking over that role as gardener, but if it was you, you would genuinely walk back to Trost.

“Excellent! We’ll start tomorrow then!” You all collectively groaned at the idea, hoping to have at least a day of rest before Hange started their rampage. You all just hoped he didn’t ask–

“Uh, what experiments will we be doing?”

The entire room stopped, staring wide-eyed at the poor kid, who had no idea what he’d just done. Though you couldn’t see, you could fucking hear Hange’s eyes light up at the idea of explaining her theories to this naïve teen. 

“I knew it. You possess a singularly curious mind…” 

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Simultaneously, your entire squad stood from their seats, including Levi. Eren had made his bed by asking Hange a question, something one should never do, and now he must lie in it. Alone. Every single one of you left without a word, quietly closing the door behind you. 

“That poor, poor kid,” Eld muttered to you as you climbed the stairs. You hummed in agreement.

“I wonder how long they’ll keep him there… I hope it’s not another one of those overnight things. Nobody deserves that, not even Nile.” You responded, taking his teacup from his hands. He let you without a word. 

“Didn’t they say they’d start experimenting tomorrow? How does Hange expect him to do anything if he’s already exhausted?” Petra asked. 

She allows  you to take her own cup as well. It was sort of an unspoken rule. You hated the idea of dirty dishes festering overnight, even something as simple as tea cups. But the rest of your squad didn’t share in this hatred, only Levi seemed to understand where you were coming from. So it was sort of expected that since it was your issue, you would be the one to fix it. Not that you were mad. You actually kind of liked it that way.

Gunther stacked his own onto Petra’s, Oluo handing you his after. You weren’t really surprised when Levi broke off from the group, though he was still holding his own. That did take you by surprise, but you knew better than to question. 

“Doesn’t concern us anyhow. Go get some rest, all of you. If we start tomorrow, I have a feeling we’ll all need it.” You instructed with a heavy sigh, gaining nods of agreement from your comrades, and several bids of goodnight. Eld lingered for a moment, and you instantly knew he had something to say, but was hesitating. “Go on, spit it out before it dies.”

Eld cleared his throat. “I see things are going well between you two.”

You blanched. How the fuck could he possibly– “What are you talking about?” Oh, that was way too shaky to not be seen as suspicious. Eld’s grin only widened further, and you felt heat gather at your cheeks.

“I’m happy for you. I really really am,” – he placed a hand on your shoulder – “you deserve it.” You covered his hand with your own, your expression relaxing instantly. He could always sap the tension from your shoulders like that. You honestly weren’t convinced he wasn’t some kind of wizard.

“Thanks, Eld. Not just for that but, for being pretty fucking great generally.” You gave his hand a squeeze, almost surprised to see a genuine shine of gratitude in his eye. Before he dramatically gasped and placed a hand on his chest.

“A compliment?! From you?! Hold on, I need to check the skies for pigs! Is it my birthday? Oh oh oh! I’ve got it! You’ve just found out you have an incurable disease and you want to show your appreciation before you die!” You shoved him off, laughing brazenly at his all too familiar antics.

“Eat shit and die.” 

“Great rules to live by. Eat, shit, and die.” You were so tempted to throw something at him.

“Go to bed before I fucking drag you.”

“And here I was thinking you only had eyes for the captain. Naughty.” 

“Go!” You went to give him a halfhearted kick, one that was easily dodged by a quick step backwards.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! No need to get violent.” He held his hands up in defeat, finally turning to leave you with the washing up. “Hey,” you looked back over your shoulder to see him still lingering by the door. “You’re pretty great too.”

He left you smiling before you could answer, and you found to your overwhelming delight, not a single romantic feeling towards him. There really was nothing like the feeling of moving on, and discovering you wouldn’t be in that kind of pain anymore. It was liberating. 

Teacup in hand, Levi passed Eld on his way down the hall, who smiled widely at him and gave him a nod in acknowledgement. One of the weirder exchanges he’s ever had with the blonde, but weird exchanges with both Eld and Gunther were to be expected. It’s just who they were. 

Levi had been stuck thinking about you all day since that morning. What would have happened had he not been interrupted. Would he have kissed you? He doubted it. He wanted to make that something a little more– ‘special’ didn’t sound like the right word, but he couldn’t think of a better one. Would he have just stared at you for hours? That went really well the last time, a fantastic way to make you feel uncomfortable. Maybe he would have just held you for a bit longer, reassured you a bit more. Although he thought that all the time. He constantly wanted to hold you more. That wasn’t anything different.

His boots echoed down the stairs as he approached the kitchen doorway, hearing who he assumed was you shuffling around, before the pitched shattering of ceramic ceased all movement.

“No, no no nononononono–” That was your voice. Panic gripped him as he sped down the last few steps to see you on your hands and knees, frantically scrambling for broken fragments of white porcelain. It wasn’t difficult to piece together what had happened, but Levi was more worried about the state of your hands and fingers than the broken teacup. More worried about your almost hysterical state. 

“What–” You cut him off with a fearful yelp, almost falling backwards having not heard him come in. He’d never seen you like this. Your eyes wide and wild, reddened by the streaming tears down your cheeks. Blood pooling from both your hands and knees from where you’d knelt in the shrapnel and tried desperately to pick up the pieces. You looked… you looked terrified. 

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– it j-just s-slipped from m-my hands… I’m sorry, I-I’ll clean it up, j-just give me two m-minutes and it’ll b-be gone I-I’ll buy a re-replacement, I’m s-so sorry.” 

Levi was stunned into silence, utterly baffled by your sudden one hundred and eighty degree shift in personality. He struggled to comprehend that this was the same woman from earlier today, laughing and quipping alongside him. His fingers tingled with each small cut you managed to give yourself, knees stinging as you kept crawling on the sharp edges. That echo in his chest raced to the point of pain, his sternum twisting and hammering in panic. 

It took him far too long to gather himself again, your hands coated in a thin sheen of crimson. 

“Stop!”

Upon seeing you freeze up, Levi instantly regretted raising his voice even a fraction. You didn’t move, not even from where you were reaching to grab another shard of blood-stained white, hands trembling like a leaf in the wind. He could hear your slightly wheezed breaths, too fast to placate him. 

Kneeling before you, Levi took your shaking hands into his own, tilting them towards the light to see the extent of the damage you’d done to yourself. His own breath hitched slightly. How had he not noticed these last time? Your hands were covered in hundreds of paper thin scars, none of them longer than a centimetre. His mind raced, endless possibilities crowding his head, and pushing them all back felt like fighting a hurricane with a spatula. But Levi was nothing if not odds-defying. Taking his cravat from around his neck, he first wiped his own hands, before setting to work on gently clearing the scarlet from yours. He was used to getting blood out of it anyway, it wouldn’t be a problem. But seeing you like this…? That was where the problem lay. Your tears continued to stain the floorboards, and you continued to convulse slightly with each silent sob. 

He wanted to talk to you. To hold you. To gently stroke your arm until you calmed down, but he had a nightmarish feeling that if he did anything other than what he was doing now, you’d break apart again. So he just kept cleaning, wiping away any fresh blood that oozed from your cuts. He needed to properly clean them, like he did after that game of poker. But that meant trying to get you to move, and with the way you were still trembling… he didn’t expect that to happen anytime soon. It was a shock to see you like this; cowering away from every too-sudden movement, flinching everytime his hands so much as inched towards your wrists. It was worse when he went to try sooth your hair, your muscles locking up in anticipation, tucking your chin to your shoulder and screwing your eyes shut. You were bracing for something, he grew to learn, and his heart splintered along with the realisation. This had been done to you. This had happened before, but the resulting response from whoever you were with hadn’t been nearly as gentle. 

Levi slowly lowered his hands back down to yours. The bleeding stifled now, but he still needed to check your knees and properly clean your hands. You’d stopped crying as well, only now it was so much worse. You just… stared. Vacantly. Like a hole had hollowed out behind your eyes and you were just… empty. He felt nothing, no bond, no connection, no echo. It was like you weren’t even there anymore, like you’d mentally checked out. With endless trepidation, Levi tilted your head up to look at him. This time you didn’t resist; you didn’t react. You just kept staring, eyes slowly focusing on his face. You made no movement when his hand cupped your cheek, like you couldn’t even feel it, and he sorely missed earlier today, when you lent into him even fractionally.

Keeping his voice low and soft, he kept a good read on your expression for any sign of life. “I need to move you to the faucet, can I do that?” No response sans a slow blink, and Levi was at a complete loss. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know if moving you would terrify you again. Fuck, he hated this. Hated seeing you so vacant. So used to seeing your eyes glimmer, seeing them so faded fucking hurt. Not to mention how hollow he felt. Having grown to enjoy your weird presence in his head and chest, your absence left him feeling alone. A feeling he was disgustingly familiar with. “Please, come back. I need you here… I don’t know where you’ve gone, but I can’t reach you there. Come back to me, please.” He begged, both hands now cupping your face. He didn’t know what he was doing, letting his instincts guide him as he blindly reached into whatever connected him to you. 

Levi felt like he was flailing in the dark, treading water in some pitch-black ocean with no direction. He thrashed, recklessly searching for something, anything that suggested you were still there. He kicked against the dragging sensation in his head, desperate to stay above the inky black water. Whatever had a hold on him, only tugged him down harder.

“Find her.” It said, “Before she is lost. Find her. Or she will remain alone.”

He forced his limbs to still, and the forceful dragging became a slow descent. Praying for any kind of sign you were still there. The silence was consuming, filling his airways in choking quiet. He had to hold out. Just a few more moments. Another second. Please–

A flicker of life. He felt it. It was here. A faint, dying ember, but it was there. Levi reached out, feeling your heartbeat in his hands, before enclosing it in his palms, and pulling.

Hard.

Levi came back to his body moments before you fell forwards into him, just enough time to catch you. For a harrowing second, he thought you were dead, before the steady echoing of your heartbeat re-entered his chest. He checked your pulse, just to be sure, before finally relaxing when he felt the steady thumping against his fingertips. Your steady breaths indicated you had just fallen into a state of sleep, rather than unconscious. So he gently manoeuvred you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoulders and tucking you safely into the crook of his neck, nestling his nose into your hair. 

What the fuck just happened? Was that all real, or did he imagine it? There was definitely some thread between you, he could pull on it if he wanted, gently tighten and slacken the bond, but did the rest of it happen? What happened to you? What had happened to you? Levi had so many damn questions and so few damn answers. Not that he would ever bring this up again, not unless you did. He had other methods to attend to anyway, primarily cleaning the cuts on your hands and knees. 

But he wanted to hold you. Just for a bit longer. For a few more minutes. Or forever. He honestly didn’t mind which. 

Unfortunately the press of your wounds weighed on his mind, and he reluctantly loosened his grip on you enough to scoop you into his arms, making sure your head was still tucked safely into his neck. Why the hell you smelt so fucking good, he refused to unpack before you were somewhere safe and comfortable, but he swore you smelt like freshly cut grass and peonies. Two of his favourite fucking scents.

Levi kept an ear out for any wandering footsteps down the hall as he carried you up to your room. Eren was most likely still stuck downstairs with Hange, listening to them babble on about titan anatomy basics. They always started with the basics. Looking down at you, he couldn’t help his lips pulling up into a tender smile. You looked surprisingly peaceful considering what just happened. Your face finally relaxing, those worry lines becoming much less pronounced. He didn’t realise how stressed you were all the time until now. Until he could see you without a care in the world. 

He’d been so lost in your face he hadn’t noticed Eld standing dead centre of the hallway, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, eyes wide in utter stunned bafflement. Levi cursed quietly.

“I– uhhhhhhh, Captain…? Is she– I have no idea how to respond to this. Is she alright?” Levi understood now why you liked him back in the day. The genuine concern on his face was admirable. Levi had never lied to his squad, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think she’s alright now. She… collapsed in the kitchen.” Levi was genuinely proud to have somebody as caring as Eld on his squad, his brows pinched with worry as he quickly scanned you, pulling his toothbrush from his mouth the moment he saw your crimson stained hands and knees. 

“Wait, what h–”

“Eld, you wouldn’t happen to know whether she has a history of abuse, would you?” Eld pulled back, his concern shifting to full-blown alarm. The soft, worried creasing in his face became a harsher, more determined expression of protection. 

“Abuse? No… not that I know of. She briefly mentioned having two exes, but mentioned nothing about either of them being abusive.” 

“Her family?”

“She never mentioned them either. I actually assume they’re dead, to be honest. Whenever family’s brought up, she stays silent. The same with love lives.” Eld folded his arms, leaning against the wall thoughtfully. “I’ve seen her flinch though. When anyone would get too… exuberant. Mostly when she was near Hange and they got excited by something. I’ve seen her flinch at flailing hands, but I honestly thought it was because she was always ready to jump into action… I never even considered… Fuck.” Levi swore he watched the man go through the five stages of grief in the matter of a minute, sliding a hand down the side of his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice. Or even think. She didn’t even come talk to me. I would have–”

“Eld.” The blonde stopped, managing to meet Levi’s gaze. “You’ve been more than a good friend to her. She’s just… good at hiding. It might be nothing, but we can’t rule out any possibilities just yet.” He hated that he sounded like they were discussing some kind of mission plan, but he had to keep up professionalism around his squad. Whether they were already aware or not. “Get to bed, Hange starts tomorrow.” He instructed, continuing to carry you to bed. 

“Captain!” Levi stopped, turning his head back. “This might be out of order for me to ask, but…” Eld bucked up the courage to once again raise his head and look his captain in the eye, “Look after her.”

There was so much behind those words, Levi didn’t even want to think about the weight of them. Not yet. “...I plan to.” 

Clearly satisfied with this answer, Levi heard the door to Eld’s room close. He didn’t give himself credit for many things, but judging people’s character was one thing he was extremely good at. He was proud of his squad. Extremely proud of them. There were many in the Scouts who very much only cared for themselves, but every single member of his squad had a character to match their skill. It gave him hope to see how deeply the relationships between you all ran, and he knew you would have each other’s backs in a pinch. It was reassuring. 

Levi was brought back to reality by you shifting ever so slightly in his arms. Not much, but enough for him to know he needed to get you to bed and wash your cuts as soon as he could, though his heart almost burst with the realisation you were shifting into him, your cheek pressing against his shoulder. 

He was getting really tired of fighting the urge to kiss you. 

Using his shoulder to get the door to your chosen room open, the moon was just enough lighting to get across the floor without walking or bumping into something. A clear cross section of the window silhouetted against the wood guided him to your bedside. 

Setting you down on the plush new covers, he took a moment to sit next to you on the bed and just… look at you. To take a second to memorise your peace-stricken expression. He’d already committed to memory the peaks and valleys of your features, but like this? It was a sight he wanted to get used to so dangerously badly. Tucking a loose strand of hair off your face, he couldn’t stop his hands from softly stroking your cheek, smoothing over your eyebrow. You looked so gentle like this. So tender. 

So terrifyingly fragile. 

He hated to leave you, only for a few moments whilst he fetched a water basin and a clean cloth. He wouldn’t use the already bloodsoaked cravat, he’ll just wash that later. Though an awful thought finally crossed through his mind.

He couldn’t get to your knees like this. He couldn’t roll them up that far. Uniform pants were designed to be form fitting… but the only other option–

Wasn’t really an option really. He might just have to leave your knees for you to discover in the morning. As much as he cared about your health, he also cared about your dignity and comfort. He was not about to undress you when you weren’t even awake. The thought disgusted him.

So with a heavy sigh, he stood, and sending you one last glance, left to fetch himself what he needed.

…Why. The fuck. Did your hands hurt so damn much? You slowly, groggily stirred awake, scrunching your hands into fists and wincing when you found them stinging and crusty. Your memory was about as hazy as a thick fog, unable to decipher what really happened and what was a dream, and opening your eyes didn’t help anything. You were in your room. Or at least you assumed it was your room. How the fuck did you get here? Nothing made sense. One moment you were in the kitchen, and now–

You froze as you looked down at your hands, though the lighting was low, you could see the smudges of blood and the dark red slices across both of them. It looked… familiar. Uneasily familiar. You’d seen yourself like this before, you swore you had. Peering down at your hands, counting the cuts on each finger, tracing the divots in your palms. 

Why? Why did you recognise this exact scenario? And why did it hurt so much to think about? Before you could contemplate any further, your door opened seemingly unprompted.

Until another, more comforting familiarity put you at ease. Though his appearance was unexpected.

He clearly hadn’t expected to see you either, pausing briefly after shutting the door. You only had a brief few second window to try work out what he was holding, but it looked like a steel basin of water, a tub of salve and a few cloths. Though your brain was still waking up, it didn’t take Hange to work out what was happening. Barring your thankful smile was impossible, though you found you had no will to do so. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” Levi murmured, grateful for the low lighting so you couldn’t see the soft blush across his cheeks. Half of him hoped you wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow… half of him. 

You shrugged, still a little bashful that he was currently standing by your closed door whilst you were sitting up in bed. “I wasn’t expecting you to come in.” Though you were smiling, you saw that he wasn’t, and a heavy globule of dread pooled in your gut. What the hell had happened…? “I don’t really–”

“Do you remember–”

You spoke at the same time, instantly cutting off upon hearing the other’s voice. But there was no awkward silence. No charged quiet as he crossed over to you, setting the water on the bedside table and taking up his previous seat by your side. Though this time you were awake.

No further words were exchanged as Levi took you hands back in his, his intentions made even clearer when dipping a clean cloth in the water and gently soothing your lacerations, the dried blood coming away like wet paint. He felt your eyes on him as he worked, using every fibre of his self control to concentrate and not acknowledge your gaze. Because if he had to fight kissing you one more time, he would lose. 

“What do you remember?” Talking was a welcome distraction from the way his lips pursed in delicate concentration. Though you observed the way they danced around each word, and it almost killed you, only surviving by tearing your eyes away to look elsewhere. 

“Not a lot.” You whispered, and Levi had to pretend it didn’t cause a shiver down his spine. He hoped to fuck you couldn’t feel that. “I remember cleaning up, and I remember being in the kitchen. I think I dropped something, but that’s it. Then I’m here.” You explained, wincing slightly as he swiped across your teared skin. 

Levi fell into a thoughtful silence. Should he ask you? Should he bring up his conversation with Eld? He guessed that if you wanted to talk about it, you would have done so. Either with him or the squad. But the thought of leaving the topic undiscussed didn’t really sit very well with him. He wanted to talk to you. Fuck, he wanted to talk about everything with you, not just this. He wanted to know everything about you. 

But before he’d made up his mind, you decided for him. “So, will you finally tell me how you know Evelyn, or is that some deep dark scandalous secret nobody is allowed to– Ow! The fuck, Levi?!” You snatched your hand away, facing him with betrayal as he flattened you with a stare. You frowned a pout. “No need to be so rough, especially when you can feel it too.”

“I’m clearly not as sensitive. And I told you how I met Evelyn, she owns the tea stall, how else would I– Would you please give me your hands?” He sighed, exasperated when you tucked them behind you, though it was a trial not to laugh at how petty you looked. “I’m not in the mood to play games with you right now.”

“That suggests you’re sometimes in the mood to play games with me. Where am I when these moods hit?” 

“Shovelling shit from the stables.”

“Ever the comedian.” You snorted, before raising a brow at his outstretched hand, patiently waiting for you to give in. He should know you’re more stubborn than that, though he continued to look at you expectantly.

“You waitin’ for a formal invitation?”

“I’m waiting to see how long it will take you to realise I'm not that easy.” You smirked smugly, assuming you’d won this little game of yours.

Until Levi rose from his chair, muttering something about you being a fucking brat, placed a knee on the side of your bed, and swung his other leg over to straddle your lap. Your breath froze, heart beating out of your chest as you stared wide-eyed in utter shock at your captain currently sitting in your lap. 

Levi chose to ignore the fact that he could literally feel himself shaking with adrenaline, and instead calmly took your arms from behind your back and held them in one of his hands, reaching for the washcloth with the other. He chose to ignore what he’d come to know as the faint echo of your own heartbeat thundering beside his own, instead choosing to focus on his original task of cleaning your wounds. He chose to ignore the mirroring heat rising to his own face, reaching back towards your nightstand to snatch the tub of salve.

Chose to ignore the small spark igniting in his crotch.

You’d managed to recover from the initial shock, now doing everything in your power to avoid looking at him. If the tables had been turned, you couldn’t say you would have done any differently, it was just unfair that it was him doing this to you. This was him flustering you. You liked it when it was the other way around. All sorts of filthy scenarios flitted about your head, all stemming from this specific position, and it took all of your willpower not to indulge in a little dream of having him like this, in your lap, whilst you worked him up and over. 

Levi clenched his jaw. In hindsight, this wasn’t a very clever idea. He hadn’t really been thinking about the consequences when he wanted more than anything to prove you wrong, and demonstrate just how easy you were. Or rather, how easy he made you. But the way your hips shifted below him, the way you subconsciously brought your knees up behind him… Fuck this was a mistake. He couldn’t get hard right now for fuck’s sake. He didn’t even want to imagine that scenario, when you realised he was fucking aroused and his rock hard cock tented in his pants borderline in your face. 

He had to move. He had to get off you, before his erection grew any more. Before he made an absolute embarrassment of himself. He just prayed to the fucking walls that phantom pleasure didn’t start again. It did have a habit of rising at the worst of times.

Placing the tub of salve back onto the nightstand, Levi shifted his weight to move off you. But you had other plans. With your hands now slightly slick with balm, you easily slipped them from his grip, taking his own wrists and boldly throwing them above your head. 

A gasp flew from his mouth as he fell forward, coming face to face with your now wickedly smirking visage, hot breath tickling his face. 

“Still think I’m easy?” You murmured, eyes flickering between his own and his lips. Despite wanting nothing but to lock them with your own for the last however many years you’d been secretly pining over him, you wouldn’t kiss him. Not today. A dominating part of you wanted the satisfaction of leaving him hanging after behaving the way he just did. 

Levi was at an utter loss, and he suddenly felt a little guilty for putting you through this exact same situation not moments ago. He felt like a deer in searchlight, completely frozen in place, his heart matching that same hammering beat your own reached when he’d started this whole thing. This was the side to you that sent his stomach somersaulting. The same side that saw you smile so savagely at Hange, the same side that sent heated glares to those who pissed you off. The same side that made him absolutely weak at the knees. 

The same side that did nothing helpful for his arousal situation. Especially not when you leaned up as far as your flexibility would allow, your breasts pressing into his chest. He thought for a terrifying moment you were about to bite against his ear, and if you did that, this night would end with him cumming in his pants on top of you. 

He was eternally grateful when you didn’t do that. 

“Go to bed, Captain.” That wasn’t much fucking better. Levi shivered incredibly noticeably at your breath dampening his helix, sending a pulse of electricity through his nerves. 

You relished in the now deep flush across his cheeks as you fell back onto the pillow, releasing his wrists from your hold. The corner of your lips quirked up in another smirk as you saw his internal debate, still frozen in complete shock. So you decided to be nice and help him on his way. “Sleep well.”

Fuck you. Fuck. You. Both literally and in the insulting sense. Levi barely gathered himself enough to clamber off you and leave without another word. Forgetting everything he’d brought to your room in favour of getting back to his own as fast as possible. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. FUCK. He could almost hear your wicked cackle in his head as he walked at the speed of light back to his quarters. Fuck you and you stupid fucking smirk and your stupid fucking hips and your stupid fucking mouth. 

He couldn’t think past his throbbing cock once again. And once again it was all because of you. He almost didn’t want to sort it out of some kind of twisted spite. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing you fucked with his head – and cock – that badly. Not that you would know. You definitely had some idea, sure, but not the extent to which you messed with him. 

His resolve to stay strong and keep his hands from his dick crumbled the moment he crawled into bed after awkwardly pulling a pair of loose pants over his throbbing length. This was so stupid. So fucking stupid. How could you be in his head like this? Causing him to toss and turn, unable to get comfortable with a raging fucking hard-on. This was way too similar to the first time this happened, only, despite however long he waited, that ghostly pleasure didn’t start. 

Fine. Fucking– Fine! He’ll just get this over with quickly. The shower was too far away anyway. Reluctantly, Levi pushed down the hem of his pants, kicking them off his legs. It would be easier if he wasn’t wearing anything… right? He honestly had no idea. Would being on his back be better? It felt a little too exposed, so he turned onto his side. How did people do this regularly? He felt like he had a fucking mental checklist of things that needed to be right before he even thought about fisting his cock. 

Taking a heavy breath, Levi ghosted his hand down his front, skin prickling at his own featherlight touch before stopping just short of his arousal, suddenly feeling nervous. What if he did it wrong…? What if it didn’t feel good? Would he be disappointed? What if–

He used his questioning mind as a distraction, before wrapping his hand around his length. All rhetorics ceased with the warm honey seeping into his veins. Well, that’s one question answered. It felt good. Fuck, it felt really good. Levi really wanted to stay quiet during this, fearing that hearing himself would turn him off, but the way his breathing stuttered with each gentle, languid stroke was actually a strange aphrodisiac. He hummed a groan, closing his fist tighter around his cock, precum already copiously spilling from his tip, lathering both his palm and his pulsing shaft.

His other hand moved from where it was clutching the pillow by the side of his head, skirting down to grasp his soft, round balls, rolling them in his palm. His hips bucked along with a whimpered gasp, brows pinching as his eyes fluttered closed. He experimented with different holds, finding his euphoria building quicker when his thumb pressed against his prominent vein and his fingers circled his tip. This was different to last time. Last time, he was completely out of control, waiting on the whims of a phantom pleasure. But this time, he felt his high build slowly, working himself up before tightly gripping the base of his cock. He didn’t know why he was edging himself, assuming that’s what it was, he honestly just wanted this to last. He’d never made himself feel this good, never drew gravelly moans and fractured whines from his throat with his own hands. 

A strike of confidence overtook him, and he let his hand venture further down, resting against the spot between his ass and balls. Still feeling bold, he gently massaged the area, gasping loudly at the sudden spike of bliss. Levi’s mouth dropped open with a quiet wail, his hips now thrusting erratically into his own hold, fucking his fist whilst his fingertips ground against his taint in ever increasing circles. Another question answered. He would not be disappointed. Not when he could feel his high cresting. He couldn’t help himself. In the comforting darkness, he whispered out your name.

“G-gonna cum! Fuck, fuck…! G-gonna fucking cum o-ohahaah! Nghyes! Fu–” His voice cut off as he was dropped into a sea of ecstasy, oceans of pleasure roiling in his veins, crashing over his nerves as he managed to bring himself to orgasm. His thighs shook, trapping his hand between them as he failed to stop the rhythmless bucking of his hips, white seed expelling from his sensitive head and dribbling down his knuckles, staining the sheets below. 

Levi basked in the afterglow of his high before the inevitable post-orgasm clarity ruined his mood. He thought back to your vixen-like smile, your teasing lips. He swore he could hear you laughing at him, giggling maniacally at his desperation.

–Easy– 

Great. Even his own mind was teasing him now. Levi sighed, the weight of his situation lying heavily on his shoulders. Until the realisation hit him like a punch to the gut.

After all that, after everything that had just happened.

He still hadn’t dealt with your fucking knees.

“Eren, what the fuck?”

“You trying to kill us all?”

“We trusted you!”

Your blades held steady in your hands, heart pumping in your throat as you were poised to strike at a moment’s notice. Eren transformed out of nowhere, scattering you and your team to the floor, the wooden picnic bench now in splinters where his giant titan hand clutched a small spoon. You ignored the steady trickle of blood down your forehead from where a sharp splint had just sliced your skin, too busy focusing on your new enemy. The only thing standing between you two was your Captain.

“Calm down.” His order was ignored when you only gripped your blades tighter. Call it mutiny, you were not about to back down. Lives were in danger now. The lives of the people you cared about more than anything. He was an idiot for thinking you would just drop it.

“Captain, you’re standing too close, please step away!” At least Petra was on the same wavelength as you, voicing what you were thinking. But he held frustratingly steady, a hand held before him as if to stop you. But he couldn’t stop all of you.

“You’re the ones who need to step away. Stand down. Now.” You vaguely admired him for being able to keep his cool when faced with the drawn blades of the best Scouts in the regiment. “That’s an order.”

You didn’t care if the conviction of the other’s wavered. You were set. Another wrong move and Jaeger wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Erwin would just have to find another hope for humanity. Maybe one that possessed a head. 

“Are you an enemy of humanity, or are you not?!” Oluo shouted from your left, Eld, too, holding his blades tighter at the question. You did nothing but wait in panther-like hostility, anticipating the fucking second he would move to kill you all. You wouldn’t let that happen. Not on your life.

“Answer us, Eren!” It was Gunther this time, sounding like he genuinely wanted to believe in the teen. Of course he did, that was Gunther through and through. 

“I said stand down.” Levi reiterated, clipping his tone to the point of venom. A quick glance down told you he was talking to you. His Second. You knew he needed you on his side, but when faced with a threat this large, you had to rely on your gut. And he had to move out of the way. Your eyes returned to the struggling kid, but no sympathy entered your veins. Only the cold stone of protection. Bond or not, you still had to rely on yourself in certain situations. It hasn't done you wrong thus far. You could always rely on your gut. Always trust your gut. 

You watched as Eren squirmed and wriggled, trying to free himself from the fleshless arm. He could do that if he wanted, he could most likely find himself on the end of your blade though. The moment he came free and fell backwards, you were there. You hadn’t even noticed the arrival of Moblit and Hange, barely registered Levi’s harsh call of your name as your blade swung towards his neck–

Only to stop a hair’s breadth away from his throat. You could almost taste the kid’s fear, and you honestly relished in it. Good. He should be fucking scared. Betrayals like this aren’t taken kindly, and you would happily relieve his head from his shoulders. And you would have done, had your captain not stopped you with a hand grasped firmly on your shoulder. Honestly, if looks could kill, Levi would be six feet under. As would you. The tension was palpable as your entire squad watched a subconscious battle of attrition, a war between wills. A raging clash between ice and fire, stoicism against hotheadedness. The likes of which your squad had never seen. Not once had you clashed so fiercely with Levi before, and it wasn’t honestly a spectacle to witness. 

It felt like the charged silence warped on forever, before you slid your gaze from Levi to Eren on the floor, frozen in place. Eyes narrowing, you scrutinised him. Assessed him. Searched him for any fucking shadow of betrayal. It didn’t matter what came up of your search, because you sheathed your blade anyway, watching with a vicious snarl as he scrambled backwards. 

With your weapon away, Levi’s eyes shifted to the cut on your forehead, brows pinching in concern. But you honestly weren’t interested in his worries, having been put in an incredibly sour mood after this entire ordeal. You harshly shrugged off his burdened looks and hand from your shoulder, wincing away from his reaching fingers and stalking off away from the camp. 

Fuck this.

Now, sitting here back in the small dining room, your opinion may have shifted slightly. Maybe you’d overreacted just a little, though you didn’t really see how you were to blame for that. This was unexplored territory, of course you were going to be on edge. Sure, maybe pointing your razor blade in his neck could be considered ‘going overboard’, but you just called it ‘taking precautions’.

But the atmosphere in the dining room was heavy; laced with unspoken tension. Your squad all gathered around a dimly lit table, Levi standing off to the side slightly whilst Hange spoke to Eren about the spoon he was holding. You didn’t look up from the ground, despite the obvious flaw in your decision making. You didn’t understand how being threatened and acting accordingly was such a terrible thing, but by the look Levi was giving you, fuck you felt that in your soul. 

Was he really that disappointed?

Could you really blame him? 

“But still… Turning into a titan to pick up a spoon… What the hell’s up with that?” There was clear remorseful confusion on Eren’s face as he stared at his own hand, and in that second you understood just how brazenly you acted. Fuck.

“So basically, you didn’t act against orders on purpose, right?” Gunther asked, keeping a close eye on the kid. You knew you were all feeling the same.

“Right.” Eren responded, and Gunther sighed. You all did. You were wrong. You made the wrong call. Turning to look at Eld, you nodded at each other, same when your eyes met Petra’s. With a heavy heart, you raised your hand to your mouth and bit down on the flesh of your thumb. Hard. 

Hange looked slightly panicked at the spectacle before them, but Levi just watched. He understood. He felt the impact of your bite in his own hand, and he understood. Though he knew you bit harder than you needed to. A strain of painful pride blossomed in his chest.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Eren looked between you all in bafflement. 

“Ow. Fuck, that was hard. I’m impressed that you can do that, Eren.” Eld chimed, and you couldn’t help but smile. He always knew how to ease tension.

“This is our modest way of apologising after making the wrong call,” Gunther explained, “Not that it really makes a difference now.”

“Our job is to keep you in check after all! That was not a mistake. So don’t get ahead of yourself!” You almost snorted at Oluo’s justification. He never could stand being wrong, and you cringed at how much he tried to sound like the captain.

“I’m sorry, Eren. We were too on edge, and I can understand if you’re upset with us. But despite this, we want you to be able to rely on us, as we rely on you.” You’d almost never heard Petra sound so serious, but you supposed now was the best time for that. 

You knew it was your turn to acknowledge what you did. Stepping past your squad, you stood in front of the teen, your jaw set. “Eren… I acted too quickly, and you suffered for it. There’s no justification for how I behaved, and for that I can only apologise. I failed to recognise my job to not only protect my squad, but also you. As acting captain when Levi is away, I take responsibility for the decisions of the squad. And though the captain was present, this one was an error in my judgement.” You placed a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you can still trust us.” 

Eren looked utterly stunned, and Levi would have chuckled had he not been so caught off guard by your apology. There was that conviction he admired so much. He’d missed seeing your eyes flare in that way. 

“No, I understand. You were just doing your jobs…” Though Eren seemed unsure, you trusted him enough to make his own decision. Whether he could put his faith back in you, that was up for him to decide. You stepped back to the wall, folding your arms over your chest and glancing to where Levi was looking at you. 

‘I’m sorry.’ You tried to tell him, searching for that unspoken connection through his eyes. Your breath of relief couldn’t have been sweeter when he responded to you.

‘Forgiven.’ Is all he said. It was all he needed to say. Your resulting release of breath was reward enough.

Hange once again looked between the group awkwardly, not really understanding what the fuck just happened. “Well… now that’s over with, anyone down for a team-building game?” Honestly? Yeah, you were. In fact, you could genuinely think of nothing better than to relieve the tension with some fun. 

“What’d ya have in mind?” Eld asked, eyeing you with a quirked grin.

Hange thought for a moment, before a wicked smirk pulled at their lips. “Kiss or strip?”

“Hange, Eren’s fifteen years old. And why do all your games involve stripping?” You were a little surprised Levi chimed in. You honestly weren’t expecting him to stick around. But the idea of him staying to join you sent your stomach flipping.

“I uh– actually I’m probably going to head to bed. Today was… draining.” 

You pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at the obvious blush across poor Eren’s cheeks. You can’t blame the kid, you’d known your squad for years now, so stripping in front of them wasn’t an issue. Plus, you were all much older than him. You didn’t expect him to want to kiss any of you. 

“Ah! Excellent. Sleep well, Eren. Right, everyone in a circle. Anybody got a bottle?” Hange asked the moment Eren left the room. You sighed heavily, taking a seat on the floor next to Eld. 

“We should have expected this.” He muttered to you.

“We really should have.”

“Right!” Hange clapped their hands together, rubbing them slightly in excitement. Walls they were really terrifying sometimes. Placing a bottle in the middle, their manic eyes scanned the circle. “Who wants to go first?”

“Just spin it, Hange, nobody ever wants to go first.” You heart leapt. So he was going to join you! You felt Eld elbow you gently in the ribs, wiggling his eyebrows at your resulting scowl. Mentally cursing his name, Hange spun the glass in the centre, the neck landing on Moblit sitting next to them.

See, the thing with the Scouts, or at least the veterans, was that nobody was really out of bounds. Even so, on the list of things you thought you would see today, Levi and Moblit sharing a romantic moment was not one of them. If you weren’t so into him, you would almost root for their newly budding relationship. Even if a distant part of you was genuinely jealous at the fact fucking Moblit got a kiss before you did. 

After Hange and Gunther, the bottle landed on Oluo and Petra, and you watched to your absolute hilarity as Petra removed her jacket and handed it to him. You glanced at Eld in confusion, and he shrugged back at you. Petra never did explain what happened between them. Hange spun the bottle again, the neck landing on you. You were pretty comfortable with your entire squad, Hange and Moblit included, so the thought of having to kiss any of them didn’t really spark anything. Until you remembered Levi was playing, and suddenly it was like you couldn’t sit still. 

You couldn’t tell whether you were relieved or disappointed when the bottle landed on you again. Usually that would mean you would drink, but with the severe lack of alcohol, during this specific rendition, it just meant you’d kiss the person to your left. 

“Been a long time coming.” Eld grinned as you faced him.

“And whose fault is that?” You quipped back, folding your arms with a beam twice as bright. Without another word, Eld leaned down and quickly pecked your lips. You heard Petra’s gasp of delight across the circle, and made a mental note to hit her over the head after this game. 

“Anything?” Eld ask having pulled back, and you could safely say you were being truthful when you shook your head.

“About as sparkless as wet flint. Sorry, Pet.” You threw her pouting face a wink, before Hange nodded in approval. 

“Fair enough! Right neeeeeext up!” Hange spun the bottle again, and your calmed nerves flared up again the moment it landed back on you. Was this bottle weighted?

“Again? Damn, you’re really being favoured tonight,” Gunther snorted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hardly.” You replied, uncrossing your legs and leaning back on your palms. It was extremely unlikely, right? Yeah, the odds weren’t in your favour with this game, and the probability of the bottle landing on Levi was so low that–

Well then.

You swallowed.

So did he. 

So much for low probabilities. The neck of the bottle taunted you by shaking slightly, before settling on your captain. Though you were nervous, excitement also fizzed in your gut. Finally, finally. You’d waited far too long for this. Though it was in a silly game, you thought this still counted, right? Yeah, this still counted. Your eyes met across the circle, and you could see that same spark of trepidation in his own steel irises. Fair enough, he too was nervous. That just made this slightly more special. You smiled to try to put him at ease, before freezing in your seat, expression stuck.

Levi took his jacket off. 

You blinked, slightly confused. Was he just warm? Or–

All your questions were answered when he handed it to you. Oh, this was nothing like the last time he did that. This was… this hurt. 

You were almost too stunned to take it, your numb fingers hooking beneath the leather and laying it down by your side. You almost wanted to take off the one you were wearing, also being his and all. You mildly appreciated the way Eld settled his hand over the one you were leaning on, trying to provide some semblance of comfort whilst you suffered this harsh slap in the face from reality.

Before that slap became a full on kick when the bottle landed on him and Petra, and he did kiss her. 

Eld squeezed your hand. 

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t get it. Had this whole fucking thing been some kind of sick, twisted joke? Had this whole thing been some fucked up game he’d been playing? Was he really that bored to the point he would fuck with your emotions like this? Were you even really bound? Or was that all bullshit too? Did he just fucking pretend? Was this all pretend?

You didn’t even register the rest of the game, thanking whatever merciful divinity intervened with fate and left you unpicked. Though the fucking second Hange released you all from their clutches, you were up and gone. Striding up the stairs and down the hall.

He called your name. You hadn't even realised he’d been following you until now, but this time you didn’t stop. You just kept walking, driven by a kind of hurt you’d never felt before. You wouldn’t cry. Not over this. You refused to. You’d been through so much worse than this, and yet this hurt so much more than anything else. Why? You thought you were good at handling rejection. You handled rejection from Eld pretty well, even if he didn't technically reject you. So why the fuck was this splitting your soul apart? You kept walking, heedless of Levi’s calls after you. You’d never been so angry. At everything. At yourself for reacting in such a strong way, at Levi for whatever the fuck that was, at Hange for even suggesting this stupid fucking game. You just wanted to go home. Fuck this mission, fuck these experiments, and fuck your stupid fucking, confusing, mixed signal giving, grumpy faced, irritatingly good-looking, annoyingly sweet, stupid fucking captain–

“Please, just stop,” you’d been too caught up in your head to hear his footsteps close in on you, only noticing the moment his hand wrapped around your swinging wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You didn’t turn. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him you were upset. Fuck him.

Levi found himself at a loss. He didn’t know how to explain himself. He’d wanted to kiss you. Shit, he’s wanted to kiss you for so fucking long, but just… not in front of everyone. Not for your first kiss. And shamefully, he didn’t know if he could control himself. The bond he had to you had done things to him, made him feel things he’s never even felt a whisper of before. Disgusting, repulsive, filthy things he was so fucking ashamed of he could barely look you in the eye most days. But he couldn’t let you leave thinking he did what he did because he didn’t want to kiss you. 

“Let go…” It was a weak attempt, but you tried to pull your hand from his grip, only for his hold to tighten. You grit your teeth. “Levi, let go of me.” 

Every fibre of your self control was poured into keeping your voice steady, though your hand shook slightly. “I swear to the fucking Walls Levi if you don’t let go of me I will hurt you.” Physically or emotionally, you weren’t sure yet. You just wanted him to hurt as much as you were right now.

Little did you know he already did. You didn’t have to turn around for him to know you were in agony. He could fucking feel it, only made worse by the fact that was all his fault.  He hated it; despised this feeling. But he couldn’t hold you against your will, so he reluctantly let go. He felt like all his prayers were answered when you didn’t immediately leave. 

“I couldn’t.” It was as much of an explanation as he could manage right now. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how he could make this feeling go away. 

“I don’t understand.” His heart shattered at the confused desperation lacing your now quaking voice. “I don’t get it. One moment I think there’s something between us, but then it’s like I don’t exist. No, it's worse than that. It’s like you can’t bear to be around me.  I’m sorry I fucked up today. I’m sorry I ignored your orders and undermined your authority, but fuck! I didn’t think you hated me this much, Levi. Enough to mess me around like this. Enough to be more comfortable kissing Petra than kissing me. So I’m going to give you two choices–” you finally turned, eyes hardened with heartbroken rage, “Sever the bond between us, and stay the fuck away from me. I’ll transfer squads and we won’t have to see each other nearly as much,” 

No. He wasn’t doing that. He couldn’t do that. It would most likely kill him, as selfish as that was. He didn’t want to be away from you, being away from you wasn’t an option. And the thought of severing the bond… his blood burned from the inside at the thought. It was physically painful to even consider. 

“Or,” – you continued – “you talk to me. Just… tell me what’s going on. Because I genuinely can’t continue with things as they are between us. I don’t know where to go, I don’t know where I stand. I can never tell if i’m important to you or if i’m worth the same as the fucking dirt off your boots. And it’s agony, Levi. I don’t know if you know, but it’s–”

“I know.” That made you stop. You hadn’t taken a moment to really look at him, too trapped in your own pain to open your eyes and see him suffering from it. It was the moment that pushed you over the edge, two tears finally spilling down your cheeks. 

“Then why?” Your voice broke slightly. “If you can feel this too then, I don’t understand… Why?” 

“Because I don’t fucking know what I’m doing,” Levi ran a hand through his hair, muttering an exasperated curse. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. Fuck, I’ve wanted to kiss you for so fucking long but I don’t– shit. I don’t know if I’d– I can’t– Fuck.” 

You almost wanted to leave. You almost wanted to turn around and leave this conversation, and him, behind. You didn’t want to stand here in pain anymore. “Levi…”

“This fucking bond. It’s– I don’t know, it’s fucking done something. I just– I can’t fucking stop myself. I can’t stop myself when it comes to you. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself there either. I just fucking can’t, and I need to know you… want this, before anything happens.” 

You both fell silent. You, processing what he’d just said, and Levi, waiting in throat-constricting anticipation. 

“So… you didn’t want to kiss me because you were afraid of getting hard in front of everyone?” You asked, the slight wry mischief in your tone shining through the heartache. 

Levi sighed in embarrassed relief. “Somethin’ like that.” He muttered, unable to meet your gaze. Until your soft hand on the side of his cheek guided him back to your gentle visage.

“Do you see me pulling back?” You questioned quietly, and Levi swallowed hard. You’d used his words against him, and honestly… that was the final straw. Searching your eyes one last time for any semblance of doubt, the moment his search came up empty, Levi closed the gap between you, and pressed his lips to yours. 

Fuck, they were just as soft as he imagined. He felt your release of held breath against his cupid’s bow as you relaxed, your hold on his cheek slackening to your arms draping over his shoulders. It took all of his willpower not to cum in his fucking pants just from kissing you.

You whimpered quietly as his arms snaked around your waist, holding you close. You never thought your first kiss with him would be in the middle of a dark castle hallway, but honestly it was candid enough that you really didn’t mind. You daringly ran your tongue along the seam of his closed mouth, and at his soft groan, something in you locked into place.

It seemed Levi felt it as well, as you both pulled away from each other abruptly, eyes wide in hungry awe. Arousal thundered through your veins, and all your clothes suddenly felt suffocating. You stared at each other for what felt like far too long…

Before Levi tugged you back against him, and borderline attacked your mouth. Roaming hands slid from your back to your ass, gripping tightly as he hoisted you up against the wall, tugging your thighs around his hips. Levi moaned against your lips as you opened your mouth, allowing for him to taste you, and for you to taste him. 

He doesn’t know why he expected anything else. Of course you tasted sweet, you tasted like fucking strawberries. He didn’t know if it was the bond making your taste like his favourite goddamn fruit, but he honestly couldn’t have cared less at this moment. He just wanted to taste you. To feel you. Fuck, he just wanted you.

You tightened your legs around his hips, sucking on his tongue as you ground your dampening cunt against his growing arousal, dragging a cracked whine from his throat. Your hands yanked against his cravat, loosening it around his neck and not bothering to take it off before you borderline ripped the first few buttons open on his shirt. You’d never felt this kind of desperation before, never felt this insatiable hunger for somebody else’s body before. But you sure as shit could get used to it.

You’d barely managed to expose his collar before your lips were against his neck, suckling sweet bruises into his pale skin, only barely having the mind to leave them below his shirt’s neckline. You felt his grunting against your tongue as you left a trail of saliva along the side of his throat.

Levi could do nothing but pant into your hair and pulse his hips into the apex of your thighs, eyes rolling as your teeth scraped against his pulse point. He almost told you to suckle there, but he had the same thought. He didn’t want you to leave marks where they could be seen. Your soft lips travelled up to his ear, nibbling and nipping against the flesh of his helix, your breath hot and damp. He wanted to turn the tides, but he was completely helpless to your assault, bucking into you as your nails scratched against the fuzz of his undercut.

You felt the tingles in your own hair, the bites on your own body as you skipped back down to his collarbone, biting harshly against his skin and watching in satisfaction as the blood rushed to the surface, colouring the patch a dark purple. You went to make another, before being harshly shoved back by your dishevelled looking partner. A gorgeous rouge had spread across his cheeks and down his neck, his hair mussed from your groping as his heated glare shot straight to your soaking core.

“My turn.” Was all he hissed, before his mouth devoured the valley between your neck and your shoulder. You felt him shiver as his teeth sank into your flesh tongue soothing the hurt before moving an inch down and repeating the same action. His hands were rough in removing any clothing obstacles from his path, the neckline of your t-shirt cracking as it was stretched beyond its shape, before snapping completely.

“Fuck, Levi…” That was his name you were moaning. His name you were whimpering as he trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts. Your head fell back against the wall, hands returning to his hair to grab and paw at. Levi groaned against you, mouth occupied with suckling blossoms into your skin before you unhooked your legs from around his hips.

He understood the message, gently setting you down on your feet, but he kept his hands around you, still holding your waist as his nipping mouth travelled back up the side of your neck to leave a lingering kiss against your lips. Pulling back a fraction, you panted heavily against each other, mouths barely grazing. You were the first to speak.

“I really don’t want to fuck you in a hallway, Levi, but I fucking swear if we don’t move somehwere else I will suck you dry here and now.” 

Levi felt his cock pulse desperately at the husk in your voice, the temptation in your ‘threat’ messing with his arousal-clouded head.

“As tempting as option B is…” he didn’t finish his sentence before picking you back up in his arms, your legs now wrapping around his abdomen instinctually. “I want to take you to bed.” 

The smile you gave him cut through the heady heat in his mind, the way your eyes lit up and sparkled in the flickering torchlight, the corners of your mouth pulling up into a dazzling beam. Levi always found you attractive, but the woman he was gazing at now was positively ethereal. Haloed by orange light, he brushed messy, loose strands of hair from your face, supporting you in his hold with one arm. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured almost absently, eyes tracing the way gentle pink slowly saturated your cheeks. You really were gorgeous to him. Complete perfection. Your lack of response had him grinning slightly, knowing he’d flustered you. He made a mental note to tell you how beautiful you were everyday, before you hid yourself in the crook of his neck, paying him back by softly teasing against an unknown sensitive spot just behind his ear.

Levi felt you shiver in his arms as he carried you down the hall, knees weakening with each kitten lick of your tongue against his skin. His straining cock throbbed with each step, begging for something, anything, to relieve the heated throbbing that had accumulated between his thighs. Briefs and pants rubbing uncomfortably against his sensitive tip, and with your teeth scraping down his neck, it was all he could do to just keep walking, teeth grit against the primal urge to set you down and let you have your way with him. But Levi swallowed his pride.

“P-please, I can’t– fuck, just s-stop for a moment, because at this rate we’re not going to make it somewhere quiet.” You chuckled darkly at his use of the word ‘we’, but acquiesced nonetheless. Levi huffed a relieved breath, thankful for the slow in pace, before shouldering open the nearest bedroom door. He knew you weren’t exactly happy with him for the spring clean yesterday afternoon, but he couldn’t be more grateful that all the rooms had fresh, new sheets and bedwear. 

Levi kicked the door closed behind him, setting you down for the second time. Your feet touched the ground for all of one moment before you pushed him up against the door, mouth latching back against the spot on his neck that made him ask you to stop. But this time, no such request came your way. Nimble fingers popped open the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his chiselled torso and marble cut abs. Shoving back the fabric of both his jacket and shirt, you set your mouth lower on his chest, leaving fresh maroon marks against his pale skin with your teeth. 

Shuddering, Levi let his shirt and jacket drop to the floor, for once not caring about how messy it would look, and your hands instantly slid up his front, ghosting over his naval. He cracked a soft whimper at your attention, squirming slightly as you mouthed closer to his nipple. You looked up at his expression wryly, lips still attached to his chest, before enveloping his pebbled sensitivity in your mouth. 

You moaned slightly in response to his airy cry, your own arousal spiking as you felt his pleasure. Levi’s back arched, pushing his chest into your mouth, writhing as your tongue flicked over his little bud. His hands threaded through your hair, his scalp tingling in an echo, as you shoved your thigh between his legs. You pulled back to mutter a curse as he started to grind against your leg, clit throbbing in tandem with each rock of his hips. 

You switched sides, showing his other nipple attention whilst you rolled the one abandoned between your thumb and forefinger. Your pitched whines sent shivers down his spine, his soaked cock twitching in response. Levi’s eyes rolled back into his head, hands moving to your waist as he rocked himself against your thigh. With a final harsh suck against his nipple, wrenching another airy yelp from him, you buried your nose in the side of his neck, encouraging his movements by jolting your leg against his clothed length, your cunt throbbing.

“Y-yeah, k-keep doing that, f–ah-aah! Fuck that feels so fucking good ‘Vi.” You moaned in his ear, feeling his grip on your waist tighten at your words.

“You can–nghaah! Y-you feel that?” he stuttered, barely able to form a sentence, the friction becoming too much to handle. You tugged on his hair in response, his eyes flying open, draw dropping with an embarrassingly loud groan. 

“Yeah, yeah I c-can feel it,” you nodded erratically, feeling the thrusts of his hips increase to a desperate, sloppy rhythm. You felt the build of his high in your own approaching orgasm. You weren’t even being stimulated directly and yet you were going to cum. Hard. 

Bliss bubbled in his loins, a feeling he now recognised. Fuck he was getting close, so so fucking close. He swore if this stopped like the first time he would genuinely break down crying. It clicked just as you leaned into his ear. 

“Make us cum, Levi.”

Clenching his teeth did nothing against the plethora of strangled moans he let loose upon reaching his high. Levi shuddered hard as his pleasure crested into bliss, his head lightly thumping against the door, cumming in his pants. Losing control of his hips, you just managed to take over through your own shaking euphoria, whining softly into his ear with your leg still grinding against his twitching length, head pulsing dribbling seed from his sensitive tip, drenching the front of his briefs. 

You cunt clenched around nothing when you felt his orgasm as your own. Honey laced your blood as you buried your head in his neck, riding out your simultaneous peaks. Your high pitched whisper of his name had him growling yours in response, arms coming up to hold you close to him. 

Levi shivered as he came down from his high, though his cock still throbbed desperately. He needed you. He needed to feel you, to be inside you. But through the slightly cleared arousal, he managed to form some kind of thought.

“That was you…” he strained, still holding you tight against him.

“What was me?”

“I could feel you. Shit, I could feel you fuck yourself… Walls, you’re insatiable. Twice? Really? I had to leave that fucking meeting because of you. Sh-shit that’s… that’s so–” Levi cut himself off with a soft groan as you pulled your thigh away from his crotch. You would have felt guilty, had you not just paid him back. Not only that, but he must have cum twice that day as well. 

You started to suckle on his neck again, finding it almost impossible to attach your lips to a patch of skin without a hickey. “That was entirely your fault. And you’re also guilty, Mister ‘I jerked off last night,’” you murmured against him.

“How the fuck were either of those times my fault?” Levi asked dazedly, slowly sliding his jacket from your shoulders, taking the pace down slightly. Now the initial frenzy seemed to have calmed, he wanted to take his time with you, though his raging hard-on protested blindly. 

You smiled slightly at the ghostly touch of his fingers on your skin, goosebumps prickling as he raised your t-shirt up to your midriff, nodding in confirmation after he paused for consent, before raising your arms to help him remove it. You watched his eyes widen slightly, the same expression he made briefly when he knocked on your dorm room door that morning, and you emerged half-clothed. In fact, you were wearing the exact same things as you were now. Your binding and uniform pants. Only missing the loose hanging harness from your hips. Leaning back in, you took his hands and placed them back on your body, brushing your nose against his. “Because you should have just kissed me that day. After poker. I wanted you to. Would have saved us both a lot of trouble,” you smirked against his lips. 

Levi huffed, barely able to focus as he felt your body for the first time. Your skin ignited beneath his touch, and he marvelled at the way your muscles clenched slightly. You were so sensitive, reacting to his fingertips softly grazing up to your breasts, the slightest hint of two peaks pushing through the fabric. Fuck he wanted to take them in his mouth, but all in good time, he reminded himself. He fiddled with the elastic hem of the binding, idly admiring your face. “I wanted to. You were very tempting that night. I liked watching you strip.”

You snorted a laugh, cupping the side of his face with your palm and smoothing the bone of his cheek with your thumb. “I’m kind of glad you didn’t,” Levi raised a brow of confusion, and you pressed a kiss to his swollen lips. “Means this feels so much better.” 

Lifting your arms again, you let him drag your binding up your shoulders, joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor. With your breasts now free, Levi seemed to have stopped working. Mouth slightly agape, he stared wide-eyed at your naked torso, unable to form any kind of thought. His dick felt like it was going to snap in half if it wasn’t freed soon, still stewing in the mess of his previous orgasm.

“Fuck… Fuck! Look at you… Shit you’re just– fuck, you’re fucking gorgeous.” You kept eye contact as you sauntered backwards, hand sliding down his arm to lace your fingers together, leading him further into the room. You bit your lip sensually as you smiled, slowly looking him up and down as you kicked off your boots.

“Wait ‘til you see the rest.” 

Levi crossed with purpose and plunged his mouth back onto yours, no hesitation in the invasion of his tongue. You leapt up into him, letting his arms support and carry you to the bed against the far corner. Without being able to see where he was going, the second his knees hit the edge of the bed, Levi let himself fall forward, his tongue still lapping at the roof of your mouth as the covers and mattress cushion your fall. His wandering hands set fire to your already heated core, desperation spiking when he moved from your mouth down to your jaw, peppering soft little presses down your throat, nipping against your protruding collarbone. 

Hands found soft hair as you laced your fingers in his locks, breath hitching as his rough tongue licked a column up the valley of your breasts, turning his head slightly and biting against the soft flesh of your inner mound. You breathed a whimper, hot breath inching ever closer to your own pebbled sensitivity. Only after quietly begging him, did he finally close his lips over your nipple, sucking against the electric peak. You arched into his touch, feeling the vibrations of his own moaning against your breast.

Levi switched to your other bud, hands ghosting along the hem of your pants, slowly flicking the buckle of your belt free and pinching your zipper between his thumb and forefinger. Not that you could even think to notice with his teeth clamping down on your nipple, tongue flitting over the hardened pebble in apology, before performing the exact same dance. Grinding his hips into the bedspread below, Levi hooked his fingers into your pants, dragging the fabric down your thighs as you raised up slightly to help him. His mouth left your chest, biting a bath down your stomach, over your navel to your pelvis. You kicked off your uniform pants, quivering as only a thin layer of fabric separated your heat from his touch. 

He almost drooled as you opened your legs for him, eyes instantly trained on the darker patch at your apex where your slick had soaked through the fabric. Your breath heaved as he nipped at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, huffing a small laugh when he whimpered, having felt it too. 

Your scent invaded his nose as he brushed against your ruined underwear, his cock twitching in anticipation. Inhaling again, his eyes rolled back when his hips bucked into the sheets below, savouring the few moments of arousal charged hesitation, before setting his mouth over that dark patch on the fabric, and sucking hard. 

Your head fell back against the pillows, groaning carnally to the ceiling, his own vibrating against your swollen clit. You heard the scrunching of fabric as he continued to grind into the mattress, your slick bud pulsing along with every thrust. It was strange to feel the sharp echo of a different pleasure, and you wanted so much to explore with him. To see where each part of yourselves resembled the other. For now, all you understood was that when the tip of his cock was stimulated, you felt it in your clit. 

Levi’s tongue poked out to slowly and gently circle over your cunt, pushing the fabric of your underwear further into your soaking hole and watching as your slick saturated through more of the cloth. Fuck that was hot. But he was getting tired of all these layers, specifically on you. Even one was too much. Kissing back up to your hip, he took the hem of your underwear between his teeth, and you almost came at the sight of him dragging them down your thighs with his fucking mouth. You kicked them off the second they were low enough.

Levi swore. And again. And a third time as you parted your legs and exposed your dripping cunt to him, positively glistening in the low light. If he was being honest, he didn’t really know what he was doing. He’d only had one experience previously, and he didn’t even cum during that. But he had the extra help of feeling your own pleasure, knowing roughly that if it felt good for him on his body, it felt better for you on yours. 

Before he could start, however, you sat up and instantly set your hands on his belt. Understanding your urgency, Levi let you remove it for him, grunting as you snapped it from his waist. His heart and cock lurched as you looked at it for a moment too long, clearly contemplating something, before deciding against it and dropping the leather to the floor. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a little relieved. 

Shoving his pants down, he stood to slide them down his legs and kick them off along with his boots. Your breath caught audibly when his rock hard length bobbed against the soaking tent in his briefs. Your teeth sank into your lower lip again as his thumbs hooked under the hem, attempting to stifle your drooling as he pulled his underwear down as well. You swore you came a little at the sight. 

Fuck, he was beautiful. Tip all flushed pink, the same colour as his sore, bitten lips. His shaft pulsating, coated in a shining, thin sheen of his own cum. Your wandering eye spied a delicious looking vein running up the underside, and you ached to run your tongue down it. 

“Come here.” You held your arms out to him, and Levi’s heart doubled in size at the gesture. Though the moment he got close enough, you stopped him from clambering back on the bed with you. Hands against his waist, he let you guide him to stand next to where you were sitting instead. “‘M gonna clean you up, okay?” 

Levi swallowed, nodding slightly as he attempted to steady himself. But the second your hand wrapped around him and your tongue delivered a kitten lick to his tip, all preparations flew out the window. His jaw slacked open with a sharp gasp, barely able to stand the sight of you lying on your front, playing with the head of his cock. He moaned along with you the second your lips puckered around his tip, hands fisting in your hair as the slick muscle of your tongue swept circles over his sensitive slit, watching with slight awe as your hips squirmed into the bed. He made his mind up then not to let you make him cum. He had a feeling the score wasn’t even close to being settled between you two, knowing that you had now made him cum three times, and he’d only made you cum once. 

Your teasing circles grew in circumference, before you flattened your tongue and took him further down your throat, dragging your muscle against that vein you’d seen earlier and drawing a gravelly whimper from his throat. Though you’d promised only to clean him up, you couldn’t help continuing, spurred on by your own stimulation and his carnal noises.

“Fuck… that’s– Y-yeah, ‘s good, so good…!” Levi’s hips bucked as your moaning vibrations echoed in his cock, his hands tightening in your hair. All your senses were consumed with him, his gently salty tang coating your tastebuds, the smell of his cedar soap a cooling balm for your nose as you had to compensate for the loss of your mouth. The feel of him on your tongue, throbbing and pulsing, thigh tensing beneath your hand. You could barely crane your neck up to watch his expression twist and contort in pleasure, eyes two pools of inky black, hair mussed and dishevelled. Fuck he looked so good. You held him in your throat, listening to his broken whines, just about able to squeeze out a whimper of your own as you cunt clenched around nothing. 

“O-off, fuck, st-stop! Don’t wan-nghahaah! Don’t w-wanna cum y-yet!” You relinquished your hold on his shaft, licking up the precum oozing from his tip. Levi panted heavily, his hands loosening their hold in your hair, only to run his fingers through his own. “Fuck, you’re way too good at that…” You grinned wildly, rolling onto your back and once again guiding him by his waist. His thigh brushed the inside of yours as you welcomed him into your hold, hands holding himself up either side of your head. You looked angelic. Hair splayed in a messy halo, lips bitten and raw, chest heaving. The angle looked oddly familiar, and you both smiled at the realisation. 

You took a contented breath. You’d expected a few more nerves when sleeping with Levi for the first time, but nothing had felt more natural or more comfortable before in your life. You felt cared for, worshipped. Loved. The faint echo of another heartbeat synced in your chest, and nothing had felt more right. Your thumb swept across his cheekbone, and you melted when he instantly leant into your touch. It had been far too long since you lips were on his, and Levi seemed to agree, eagerly opening his mouth when you arched up into him

A mixture of his own taste and your natural sweetness greeted him like a warm hearth, his hips rolling into your heat in response. You answered, hand skirting down to take him in your palm, and position him at your aching, needy cunt. Levi pulled back, gazing into your widened pupils. 

“You want this?” He had to ask. He had to have explicit confirmation from you. Bond of no bond, love or just lust, he had to have your verbal consent. He would never be able to live with himself if you regretted anything today. “I don’t know what will happen between us after… I don’t know how far this bond will go, but after this… I don’t think there’s any going back.” You’d honestly never heard such sweeter words. 

“I don’t want to go back. I want to explore this with you, I want to have this with you. I just want you, Levi.” The corners of your eyes crinkled as you smiled up at his expression of slack-jawed awe. 

“Can… Can you say that again?” He asked quietly, unable to take his eyes off you. You pushed his bangs back, cradling his cheek in your palm.

“I just want you.” 

Unable to speak, Levi stooped down and poured all his gratitude and adoration into your mouth, his tongue lapping against yours as he slowly, tenderly pushed the tip of his cock through your folds. You gasped against his lips, clit pounding as you sucked him in. Fuck, you’d barely started and you were already on the edge of an orgasm. You knew Levi felt it too, judging by the way he had to stop to just breathe, burying his head in your neck to try and quiet himself. But his groaning vibrated against your skin. 

Nothing you’d ever experienced had felt this good. The echo of his own pleasure throbbed in your cunt, your walls convulsing against his shaft as he pushed a little further inside, once again having to stop. It was torture of the best kind. Feeling him bob and twitch inside you, his teeth on your shoulder, your nails down his back. You could feel all of it. 

As could he. Which is why Levi could only move so much before his thighs started to shake again. Fuck, he was only halfway inside you and it was already too much. Every micro-movement had his balls pulsing, his tip leaking desperately inside you, essences merging. It was so much and so good. You felt so silky, wrapping around him like that, heat scorching against his sensitive cock. You were so fucking tight, so wet he could almost hear the squelching of every helpless buck of your hips. 

Inhaling a deep breath, Levi bit down harder on your shoulder, taking the leap and fully sheathing himself inside you. Your loud, broken moans danced with each other, your nails digging further into the muscles of his back. Chest heaving, breath heavy, Levi pulled back again to survey how you were doing. No better than him, he saw, though your delighted, slightly delusional smile could light up funerals. 

“Good?” He managed to breath, gritting his teeth against your walls clenching around him. 

You nodded, your sweat slicked hair sticking to your forehead. “Y-yeah, that’s one word for it. Fuck ‘Vi you feel fucking incredible.” Wrapping your legs around his hips, heels pressed into his lower back, you started to grind your cunt against his pelvis.

“Haa-aah! Fuck! Don’t… don’t do that. And st… stop fucking clenching like that! Gonna make me cum t-too soon.” He sounded a lot whinier than he meant to, pleading and begging with you rather than asking you. Your juices gushed at the sound of his cracking voice, his composure torn to shreds. 

You fucking giggled at his desperation laced tone, and he punished you for it with a quick thrust. Your amusement turned instantly to bliss, forcing another pitched gasp from your chest. Of course, he wasn’t unaffected, and Levi learnt pretty quickly that any punishments for you fell back on him tenfold. 

He pulled out a fraction, withdrawing his hips from the crease of your thighs, before pushing back in. It was all he could handle at the moment, these fractional micromovements. He assumed, under normal circumstances, they would do nothing for an ordinary partner. But you seemed just as affected as he was, keeping eye contact whilst he managed to fall into some kind of slow, sensual rhythm. Sweat beaded on his brow, slipping down the side of his head as you leaned up to press your lips against his. It was nothing more than soft contact and an exchange of breath. More than enough.

You followed his lead with pacing, back arching into his thrusts as he started to find himself. Your brows pinched, mouth dropping open with a stuttering whine as he brushed that spot inside you that sent you cross-eyed. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for Levi to suddenly slam his hips against yours, right into that same spot with a shattering cry. If it didn’t feel so good for you, you would have asked if something was wrong. You managed another question instead.

“Wh-where?” You asked. ‘Where do you feel it?’

Levi kept up his sudden change in pace, his balls slapping against the seam of your ass. “Haah, ah, in-inside! I– I don’t kn-aah! F-feels good!” You understood, too incoherent to unpack whatever the fuck that meant. You mewled along with him, eyes rolling into your skull as you became nothing but a ball of ecstacy. 

Keeping a steady rhythm soon became impossible, urgency fueling every buck of his hips, the dragging of your walls down his cock coercing him ever closing to a blinding high. He didn’t know if he would survive, honestly, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was only vaguely concerned about noise. Only to find that he didn’t really care. Not when you were writhing and squirming beneath him.

The moment your fingertip glazed over your clit, Levi lost all control. Grabbing your wrist, he shoved your hand back above your head, replacing your fingers with his own. His tip throbbed and pulsed in stimulation, and he felt the knot in his gut tighten exponentially.

“Don’t… ngha-haah! Fuck! Don’t stop… ‘Vi, sh-shit, don’t– don’t stop. Feels s-so fucking good.” 

You started whimpering his name over and over again like some kind of mantra, throwing your head back with a cracked scream when he shoved your thighs from around his waist over his shoulders. He was no better with his volume, eyes falling shut as he borderline wailed from the shift of angle, that foreign sensitivity inside him stimulated to the point of numbness. 

Your hands clawed the sheets beside your head, and Levi couldn’t help taking them into his own, threading your fingers together as you approached your highs together. Leaning down, you whimpered as he stretched your legs. 

“I’m yours, Levi.”

The world seemed to fracture for a moment, before knotting back together as he was thrown over the edge by your words. Your mouth dropped open, back bowing to the point of possession as you let the embers of the bond consume you. Pleasure ripped through your veins like a hurricane as you clenched around his pulsating cock. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming, blood pumping too loudly in your ears to hear anything. All you knew was white. All you knew was stars and ecstasy. All you knew was him.

Levi threw his head back, eyes rolling and screwing shut as his hips slammed into your own one final time before he came with a roar of your name. Length twitching and quivering, he released himself into your soft cunt, painting your walls white with each wave of stuttering euphoria. He found himself bucking into your relentlessly, silently begging you to milk him for all he’s worth, your slick heat trapping him in a vice grip. Rope after rope of his seed spilled into your insatiable pussy, his toes curling with the endless crashing of pleasure. 

Levi stayed sheathed inside you, slowly moving your legs down from his shoulders before collapsing into your sweat soaked body. He could hear your heartbeat in your chest, and feel it in his own. Stronger than before. 

You felt both light and heavy at the same time. You felt both lost and found. A dichotomy of emotions roiling in your mind, but there was one thing you could settle on. You felt whole. That echoing thumping in your chest louder than before. Each brush of your fingers against his skin was felt as if it were against your own. Something had made a home in your heart, mind and soul. No, not something. Not just someone. Levi. 

“Do you…?” You were almost afraid to ask if he felt it as well, but when he managed to lift his head from your chest to look you in the eye, and the moment you saw silver slivers line his irises, you knew he did. He felt it too. 

You both whimpered slightly as he finally pulled out, huffing a breath against the salty skin of your neck. Levi’s arms slowly wrapped around your body, turning you both so you were lying on his chest. He honestly just wanted to hold you. Though he’d just been as close to you as one person could possibly get to another, he just wanted to feel you against him. He’d never been so completely overcome with a sense of belonging before. But here, now, lying with you resting against the combined rhythm of your beating hearts, is where he found his home. 

Something shifted down the Ackerman bloodline. A bond had been solidified, another branch from his ancestral tree snapping into place. Levi felt it in his blood, and judging by your searching eyes, you too noticed. 

“You alright?” He asked tenderly, swiping your hair from your brow. You shifted upwards to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“More than alright. I like feeling your heart.” He understood what you meant. Though your fingers rested over his chest, he knew you meant his rhythm in your heart. “I just want to know what else this… unlocks? Don’t really know how to describe that, but I just, I can feel you.” You nuzzled into his neck and his hand came to cradle your head. “And I wanna find out where you feel everything. ‘Inside’ wasn’t exactly very descriptive.” You teased, earning yourself a light slap to your side.

“I’ll draw you up a map next time.” Levi’s soul chimed along with your laugh. Should he say it? Would now be a good time? Or were those words too weighty for your first time together? They felt a bit too much, the night already charged with heightened emotion. Did he even need to say it? You most likely felt it anyway, but he knew he would need to say it at some point. More than that, he wanted to say it. Just… not yet.

Levi sighed contently, going to turn onto his side and tuck you safely into his chest, before the slight movement from his legs prompted a small wince. You, of course, noticed it.

“You okay?” His thumb instantly smoothed the crease of worry between your brows.

“‘M fine. I just, I knew I was out of practice, but fuck my thighs burn.” Your brows furrowed in brief confusion, before softening in instant realisation. 

“Oh, that’s actually probably mine. You’re not the only one out of practice.”

“You feel like this every time?”

“Not every time. Only the times when my partner decides to fucking bend me in half.” You sharply bit at his nose and he waved you off.

“Tch, it felt good, didn’t it?” 

“Wait ‘til you feel the cramps of my periods, Levi. This is fucking nothing in comparison.” You cackled as his expression fell to something of genuine fear. He hadn’t even thought about that. “Looks like it’ll be me bringing you soup and tea.” You grinned, your tongue poking out between your teeth. He adored it. 

He shifted again, grunting in discomfort as the pain in your thighs barked in protest. “You’re gonna have to carry me to the shower. I can’t move.” You cackled again, and Levi thought that if he died now, he would be happy.

“If I'd known I was going to be bound to a two hundred pound man child I would have thought twice. Carry yourself.” You attempted to shove him but he only made himself heavier, now having shifted back on top of you.

“No, you wouldn’t have. You are bound to a two hundred pound man-child. And this man-child is in pain. Where’s your compassion?” 

“In my cunt along with your leaking cum.”

“Fucking Walls you can’t just casually say shit like that!” Levi felt the vibrations of your laughter in his chest, melting further into your embrace when your hands gently sifted through his hair, scratching lightly against the fuzz of his undercut. “Don’t do that either, we need to clean up.” He mumbled sleepily into your skin. Naturally, you didn’t stop, feeling the pull of sleep on your own lids. 

“We can doze for a few minutes…” You mumbled into his hair as he wrapped his arms around your middle once again, and turned you on your side, this time his head tucked into your chest.

“Fine… but don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“Would I ever?”

It took all of two minutes, before you were both out like a candle in the wind.

[curiositydooropened]

Working Through It

Your new job as night janitor of the defunct Hawkins Lab seemed like a soothing task for your social anxiety. At least it was until you started working with Eddie "the Freak" Munson. The combination of his head-banging and the swirl of chemicals in the air provides for one Hell of a work day.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Wordcount: 15,043

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks, mental institutions, therapy, flashbacks, nightmares, family loss, canon-typical violence, chemicals, slurs, angst, slow burn, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

No tag list, xo!

Masterlist

---

The swampy air of mid-summer in Indiana hung heavy and damp. Everything dripped with sweat or condensation, adding to the moist air. Adhesive clung on a little tighter, glue melting of the back tape onto metal chairs and concrete walls, and no amount of scrubbing or scraping could peel up the yellow globs of offensive material made of horse hooves and broken dreams. You would know. You’d been hacking away at pasted-on propaganda for hours. 

Hot and sweaty, in a building that hadn’t had air conditioning (or power, for that matter) in years, you found yourself stripping the upper half of your workman’s boiler suit, tying the sleeves around your waist. You’d been told the full body piece was necessary against hazardous material, but at this point, you’d eat the glue if it meant it wouldn’t be on the walls or gumming the edges of all of your razorblades.

If the glue and the heat weren’t enough to drive you insane, you co-worker was. Eddie Munson, hot off the heels of a triple homicide conspiracy, the town Freak, a Satanic cultist, was scraping glue from the wall opposite yours, foam headphones blaring music over his ears, razorblades drumming the walls at rapid rates, mostly off-beat. 

“Munson!’ You growled, throwing your yellow gloves to the ground in a fit of rage. 

He didn’t respond, just kept drumming, glue left discarded, head bobbing up and down, his ponytail thrashing back and forth. 

You took a deep breath and groped your jumpsuit for your pack of cigarettes. You’d been putting off your break, hoping to get out of that hell hole as soon as possible, but it was clear you probably wouldn’t leave before sunrise. 

Your pockets came up clean, just a zippo lighter, and you grit your teeth, hand squeezing around it. Munson’s thrashing built to a crescendo, and he was fully bent at the waist, head banging now, feet leaping from the linoleum in excitement.

You took a deep breath and crossed the room to wait near his rampage. You took a step closer, knowing he’d swing his arms to meet you, and when he did, he jumped back, startled, and pulled his headphones from his head.

“Sorry,” his lips pulled back into that skin-crawling grin. “Did you say something?” 

You clenched back a retort about his stupid headphones and held out your lighter. “Can I bum a smoke?” 

Without responding, he slipped around you and out the door. You closed your eyes, said a prayer for patience, and heard him scream back to you. “You coming or what?” Asshole.

The grey building was no cooler outside than it was in, although the breeze provided better airflow than the stuffy room you’d been cleaning, and the concrete against your back and shoulders felt nice. You inhaled the nicotine, hot in your lungs, and exhaled the satisfying buzz of calm. If only you couldn’t hear the heavy metal from Munson’s headphones right beside you.

“Think you could turn that off for a minute?” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Shit, sorry,” he fumbled with the device shoved into his pocket, and you sighed at the click of silence. 

You took another drag, kept your eyes closed, tried to block out the smell of him so close to you, sweat and grime and glue. You probably smelled no better, but he had really itched at all of your nerves over the past week, and he was edging toward the last one. “Think you could back up a little?” You snapped, pushing off the building to look at him.

His eyes widened, and he shot smoke through the corner of his mouth, hands up in surrender. “Jesus, princess. What’s got you all riled up tonight?” 

“Don’t call me that,” you ground your teeth, sucking in too deep of a drag. It singed your lungs, the back of your throat. You sputtered your exhale, thumping on your own chest with a fist. 

He made cat noises out of the back of his throat, clawed the air in front of you with an outstretched hand. You shot him a glare, and he leaned back against the wall, taking a long drag. He blew out a large cloud and shook his hair from his eyes before looking back at you. “You were such a sweet kid in high school. What the hell happened?’ 

Your heart started pounding in your chest, that familiar clawing of panic, the lick of flames and the sting of chemicals to your nostrils, the laughter of the inmates surrounding you. You swallowed it back, cancer stick to you lips, hot air in, hot air out. “Don’t you have another teenager to murder?” You seethed.

“Fuckin’ A,” Munson exhaled into the ether and stamped half his cigarette into the wall beside him. “Come back when you’re ready to play nice.” He clicked play and shoved the headphones back over his ears, retreating back into the building with slumped shoulders.

You collapsed back against the cool wall and stared up at the starry sky, hoping the tilt of your head would keep your emotions held in. You made a few loud deep breaths through your teeth, trying to whoosh away the sound of blood vessels popping and bones breaking, the screams echoing through limestone walls. You brought your cigarette to your lips with shaky hands and took a long, labored drag, tip spilling hot ash onto your middle finger and then the ground. 

You found five things you could see. Trees, a fence, grey bricks, the sidewalk, your car just in the distance. Four things you could feel. The roll of pebbles beneath your sneakers, the wiggle of your toes within damp socks, the canvas fabric of your jumpsuit between your fingers, the cool wall at your back. Three things you could hear. The breeze whistling through broken windows floors above, the soft chirp of crickets in the distance, a low hum you pulled from deep in your chest. Two things you could smell. Cigarette smoke, the rubbery talc of yellow gloves left on your index finger. One thing you could taste, the salt of sweaty fingers to your lips. 

You took another deep drag, exhaling with slumped shoulders, relaxed. You were fine. You were doing your job as janitorial night staff at Hawkins Lab, and you were safe. Tossing your cigarette butt to the ground, you crunched it beneath your sneaker.

—

The line at the bank was too long, everyone trying to get their deposits in before the weekend, and you felt choked back the amount of people guarding the entrances and smiling from nearby desks and workspaces. You managed to cash your paycheck under the stares of the teller, and shove your loot into your pocket before too many questions were asked, but you were sure you hadn’t released a breath until you spilled out into the humid parking lot. 

You still had to do grocery shopping and run to the gas station, and you did want to stop by the library or Family Video for a bit of weekend entertainment, but the amount of people had you second guessing all of that, wishing instead for the comfort of your bed and the soft purrs of your cat. Remembering your cat was out of food, you sighed and unlocked your car door, deciding to complete your errands anyway, for her.

The grocery store, luckily, wasn’t overflowing quite the way the bank had been. It was early enough on a Friday to move in and out unscathed and unseen, save the bubblegum popping cashier, Brenda, who patted her very pregnant belly and gave you the same cold-eyed stare she’d offered in the halls of Hawkins High.

Sleepy Kevin at the gas station didn’t trouble you either, as you exchanged a few wadded up bills for gas and a pack of smokes. He just offered that one-eyed smile and reminded you to have a good day. Same ole routine, week after week. It’s what kept you sane. Well, it’s what returned your sanity.

Hawkins was different, after the Earthquake, quieter. Over half the population up-and-moved elsewhere, making the streets quieter. Less kids played in yards. Less men jogged by in short-shorts. Routes were different too, the center of town totally torn up, had yet to be fully restored. Just gaping holes in the sides of abandoned buildings, the remnants of tragedy like the four, fading scars that dissected your home town. 

The library had been shaken to bits, what books made it through the fire had been transplanted to a building across town, closer to the mall, a little newly built strip mall that had barely been touched, renters moved the moment panic struck. You pulled into the parking lot and turned off your ignition, pulling your old books from the passenger’s seat to return. 

A few satisfied customers left the barbershop next door, a few more entered a pet store down the way. The opposite side of the building held a small town pizzeria, and beside that, a comic book shop. You waited patiently for an exiting family before pressing your palm to the warm metal doors. You paused when you heard someone shouting your name.

Panic flooded your chest, and you wheeled around to look at the family that had just left, happy, arms bundled with picture books. The man that left the barber shop was getting into his car. You heard your name again. Swallowing the bile rising in your throat, you turned forty-five degrees to see Eddie Munson quickly approaching from the comic book store, waving violently with something sleeved in plastic.

“Hey,” he breathed when he approached. 

“What?” You sighed, allowing your breath to slow, willing the anxiety to subside.

“Haven’t seen you in the daytime in a while.” He grinned, smacking the side of your arm with his comic book. “You look a little sick.” 

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want, Munson?” 

“Just taking my friend, Dustin, here to the comic book shop, and the library.” He stepped sideways to reveal a small boy with braces and a mess of curly hair shoved under a cap. The boy grinned and waggled his fingertips in a greeting.

“Great,” you grit your teeth and reached for the door again.

“Here,” Munson reached to hold the door open for you, and if your arms weren’t so full, you would have pushed it out of his hands, fully capable of holding a door for yourself. You bit back a remark and slid inside, the cool wave of air conditioning tickling the hairs at the back of your neck.

You slipped your stack into the return bin on the counter, flashing a polite smile at the head librarian, before heading off toward the fantasy section to find something new for the weekend. 

You were about three synopses in before you were interrupted by the shuffle of feet and a whispered, “Hi.” You glanced upward to find Munson’s friend, Dustin, grinning, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“Hi?” You blinked back at the inside cover of the hardback in your hand. 

“So you work with Eddie, huh?” 

“Unfortunately,” you grumbled, closing the book and sliding it back into place on the shelf to search for another. 

“I know he can be a lot, but he means well.” 

“Uh huh.” You tongued your molar, biting back the urge to smack this kid with your library stick. 

“He’s a really good guy, if you just give him a chance-“ 

You rounded on him, patience thinned, stick pointed to the logo in the center of his chest. “Listen, kid, I’m just trying to pick out a library book, so I can go home and get away from people. I don’t need a member of Munson’s nerdy ass club to be worshiping him in my space, okay? I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid, bucko.” 

You spoke loud enough to be shushed by the librarian, and that grated on your nerves worse than the kid himself. The library was a safe space for you, one of the few left, and this interaction was making it increasingly less-so. 

“Whoa, what’s going on over here?” To make matters worse, Munson rounded the corner, carrying the one book you’d been looking for. 

“You’re right, man.” Dustin hissed, pointing to you. “Mental.” 

Well that was the last fucking straw. You slammed your stick into the shelves so hard it snapped in your hands, and when the panic licked flames up your throat, you shoved past Eddie and through the maze of shelves.

“Shit, man, why’d you say that?” You heard from a few aisles down, followed by the ruffle of clothes indicating someone was hot on your heels. 

Clawing your way through the shelves, you shoved open the front doors, gasping into the hot air. You fumbled with your car keys as Eddie barreled through the front doors, librarian yelling at him about the book in his hand. You turned the ignition and he skid to a halt in front of your car, staring, bewildered, as you peeled out of your parking spot and drove away. 

That familiar emotion stung at your eyes, betrayal, embarrassment, fear, confirmation that Eddie went home from his shifts and talked shit about you. Even The Freak thought you were psychotic, a mess, mental. You shifted into a lower gear to drive faster, engine revving down side streets, kicking up dust along the roadside of this sleepy little town.

—

Your weekend consisted of sleeping and cat cuddling and rereading old favorites, and you’d almost forgotten the encounter at the library until, in the dim moments before your shift started, a van rolled past the gates and into the vast parking lot.

You heard it before you saw it, blaring music and the screeching of tires, but you didn’t need to turn around to know that Eddie Munson’s shitstain of a brown van would be pulling up directly beside your car. Occasionally, smoke would pour from the windows, and he’d spend the entirety of his shift giggling to himself. This time, you tried to cross the parking lot before his engine even shut off. 

Your keys were out and unlocking the deadbolt when you heard him calling your name, asking you to wait up. You didn’t. You just sauntered into the tiled front entrance and made a B-line for the janitor’s closet to start pulling on your jumpsuit and gathering supplies for today. The second floor was on your agenda for this week, and you intended to get it done as quietly and as efficiently as possible. 

The gathering of your supplies was interrupted as Munson scrambled into the closet beside you, chains on his garments jiggling as he skid to a halt. “Holy fuck.” He gasped, clutching his side. 

“You good?” You frowned, tipping the sting of bleach into the mop bucket. The smell still stung in your nostrils, reminded you of that night, but you tried to fight it, had to fight it, couldn’t go back there. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, stumbling dramatically to his jumpsuit on its hook. “I’m good.” And he stepped into it clumsily, sneakers through too-tight legs on slippery tile floors.

You rolled your eyes and ascended the dim stairwell, bucket and mop in-hand.

The overhead lighting took moments to flicker on, seizure-inducing blinking across boardroom walls until the entire room was casting in dingy yellow. Only half a bank worked, in most rooms, and you learned to work with shadows. You set your bucket in one corner and started pulling all tables and chairs into another, clearing the widest space of flooring to clean at one time. 

You spent a long time scraping skid marks from the linoleum with the rubber of your shoes, the satisfying squeak like balls on a basketball court. It brought you back to senior year, watching the boys lose their championship game. 

Munson entered, finally, jumpsuit buttoned to cover his graphic t-shirt, with a long broom to sweep away the dust and cobwebs from the floor in concise lines, clearing it to allow you to mop. His walkman hung loose around his neck, mop of hair pulled back with a loose ponytail. 

You drug your bucket to his starting point and slopped bleach water to the ground below, reveling in the satisfying squelch of sopping cotton. 

“Hey, so,” Munson leaned against his broom at the far corner of the room. You glanced up at him and back down at your work. “I just wanted to apologize for Dustin at the library, a couple of days ago.” 

Your fists clenched around the handle, stopping your movement momentarily before you pressed on, scrubs quickened in pace.

“He’s just a shit kid that really wants me to make friends.”

You snorted sourly. “Sick way to make friends.”

“And he knows we work together, so he just figured he’d try to help.” He talked over your comment, taking a few strides toward you. “I promise he didn’t know anything about… I mean, I didn’t tell him about… I don’t even really know what happened, so I couldn’t have told him…” 

You stood then, white-knuckling the mop handle, and waited for him to ramble himself deeper into the hole he’d dug. 

He sighed, shook scrappy bangs from his eyes. “What I mean is, he never would have said that if he knew.” 

And there it was, right there in his deep, brown eyes, veiled in an apology, the one emotion you’d grown too accustomed too, and the one that irritated you the most. Pity. You picked up your mop and shoved it with a splash back into the sudsy water. When you slapped it back to the ground, splatters cascaded clear across the room. 

“So, I’m apologizing for him, I guess,” Munson continued, because of course he couldn’t take a hint and shut the hell up.

“Well, thanks, I guess?” You scoffed, scrubbing hard at a particularly yellowed stain. “I just don’t really need apologies from you or your child friend. You think I can’t handle a word or two thrown around about me? A little small-town gossip?”

“That’s not-“

“No?” You stopped again, leaning toward him against your handle. “Really? You’ve never heard gossip about me, Munson? Tell me then, what do you know?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed into the high button of his blue collar.

“Tell me what you heard.” You tossed your handle to the ground, and you both startled at the smack and bounce of wood to the linoleum. You crossed to him and folded your arms over your chest. “No, really. What do you want to know? Let’s do this right now. Because you’ve clearly been thinking about it the entire time we’ve worked together, and I’m sure you have your questions. So tell me what you know, and I’ll ease your mind. Or you know, for fun, give you a few nightmares.” 

He slumped backwards to rest his rear end on the table behind him, becoming eye level with you, and his brown eyes held that same pity that caused bile to bubble into your esophagus. “I’ve seen shit too, you know.” His voice was soft, not accusatory.

“I don’t think we need to compare traumas here, asshole,” you seethed. 

“No, I wasn’t,” he scrambled, cracking his knuckles. “You can just… trust me, I guess?”

“‘Trust me.’ I’ve heard that one before.” 

“Okay, you know what?” He pushed off from the table, inches in front of you, broad chest and clenched jaw. “I’m just trying to offer a little kindness, from someone who gets it. If you’re not interested in my… whatever, I’m not going to push it. You’re more than welcome to continue to believe the entire world is against you. I’ve just been there, and it’s a dark fucking place, okay?” 

And before you could respond, he’d pulled his broom handle between you and gave your shoulder a little prod with his knuckles. “I’m going to get started on the hallway.”

You moved aside to let him through and tried to let his words roll off of you. You didn’t need his ‘kindness’. You didn’t need anyone’s. You’d taken kindness for years now, in the form of pity and regret and saddened smiles, and what was it worth? You’d never get your family back. You’d never unsee what you had seen.

You knelt to pick up your handle again, cold wetness of the floor staining the wood in dark patches. Your hands tingled and your head spun at the chemical smell, but you took a deep breath, pushed it all back, and scrubbed a little harder at that stain.

—

You picked at a mole on your forearm, feeling stuffy and uncomfortable in that big leather chair, the only air in the office provided by an oscillating fan. 

“And how has work been? Are you still worried about the triggers? How are you responding to the chemical smells?”

You shrugged. “Fine. Bleach is bleach. Haven’t managed to poison myself yet.” 

“Is that something you’d consider doing?” 

You rolled your eyes. “No. I just meant, I’m good at my job.” 

“It’s nice to clean isn’t it? Feels a bit like you have control over something.” 

You scratched a little too hard, your arm started to bleed. You covered it with your sleeve and shoved your hand between your legs. “I guess?” 

“Are you getting along with your co-worker?” 

You shrugged. “Bummed a smoke off of him the other day.” 

Your shrink stared back at you over her legal pad, and the half-rim of her glasses. “You know I don’t approve of smoking.” 

You sighed and rolled your head back, staring up at the joists of the ceiling. Dust gathered at the tops of bookshelves. Their janitor had clearly given up on ladders ages ago. 

“But I’m glad you’re making friends. Can you tell me more about him?” 

“I’d rather not.” You grumbled, but her pointed look seemed to press the matter. You folded your arms over your chest. “He listens to music too loud, talks too much, does stupid voices. He likes… comic books?” You shrugged. You were surprised you could recall that much about the only other person you spent time with, besides your shrink. Hours of your week, not spent here, or with your cat, were holed up in that condemned building, breathing in chemicals and listening to Eddie Munson mutter to himself. You guessed it wasn’t far off from your last social interactions. Plenty of people at Pennhurst mumbled to themselves.

“That’s good. Do you guys talk about your fantasy novels?” 

“No,” you mumbled, but you saw an out in the conversation. “I’m rereading Earthsea.” 

“Again? How many times is that now?” 

You’d lost count. 

“Maybe you could try comic books. You’d have something to talk about with your new friend.” 

“He isn’t my friend,” you snapped back. 

“I think it’d be good for you to let someone in.” 

Your hand flexed against your biceps, itching to do something else, to get out of there. The buzzer went off on the side table, and you leapt from your seat. 

“Wait a moment,” she scribbled a few items onto a corner of her legal pad and tore it off, handing you the yellowed paper with her blue ballpoint chicken scratch. “This is your assignment for the week. Have a good one, dear. Stay safe out there.” 

You didn’t look at her handwriting until you’d reached your car. Find out five things your coworker is interested in. With an eye roll, you crumpled the paper and discarded it on your passenger side floor mat.

—

Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. You grit your teeth and pushed a little harder on the metal cabinet pinning you to a concrete wall. You tried to move it on your own, foolishly, and it’d tumbled toward you with a crash, apparently full of items you hadn’t checked pre-move. You heaved and nothing budged, and you slammed your fists against it in frustration before you conceded. With a deep breath, you called out for your coworker. 

No response. Jesus Christ, he must have been listening to his music too loud. You were going to die under here. The metal doors had begun to slide open, something dark oozing through the crack. You panicked and tried to avoid the sludge, but your movement only pinned you further. 

Another deep breath, and you screamed, “Eddie!!!” It was maybe the only time his first name had escaped your lips, but the panic had clawed its way to your throat. The metal was digging into your collarbone, handle pinching a spot in your ribcage, and the gunk dripping from inside reminded you too much of the burst matter that had splattered your walls, coated your clothes, formed that amorphous blob.

You pitched another scream, slamming your fists into the cabinet until it banged louder than the memories flashing in your mind. You shouted Eddie’s name again and again, straining and struggling to move until a shadow hurried across the ceiling, and you heard your name returned in panicked tones. 

“I need you to push while I pull, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nodded and hunkered your weight to your thighs, as much as you could manage.

“Count of three. One, two.” You both grunted, the metal groaning at the leverage, and soon it was righting itself onto four corners again. 

Only, it was too late, and without your body blocking it, the doors swung fully open, launching several glass jars of liquid to the ground below. Heavy glass smashed and bubbled, and a large dollop of blackish brown flung itself down the entire front of your jumpsuit, coating you in a thick, viscous material that smelled of death. You heaved, but your hands were coated in it and starting to burn.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Munson was frantic, hands in his hair in panic. “Uh… showers! Fourth floor.” And he took off running before you did.

You tripped and skid, shoes sticky as molasses up two full flights, breathless and panicked. You heard the shower sputter on before you reached the room, your coworker allowing a wide berth as you slipped on tile and under the ice-cold spray. Your teeth chattered, but your hands felt instantly relieved. 

“Take your jumpsuit off.” His voice was far-off, garbled from the water cascading through your hair, down your face and neck. 

You began to unbutton, careful to keep your fingers as clean you could. Your heart raced beneath the frigid pulse of water, pressure inconsistent. You slipped the canvas material from your shoulders, exposing a smudge of brown across your white tank top from where it’d already bled through. You stepped out of your shoes, socks, saw mean stains on your jeans from where you’d taken the worst of it. Muscles spasming, you unbuttoned your fly, pulled your pants off too. 

You kicked your sticky clothes to the side and stepped over the drain, scrubbing at the stubble on your legs and ankles, rinsing until well-after the water ran clear, a swirl of brown cycloning into the sewage system from your clothes. You were so cold, but you couldn’t stop scrubbing, not until your skin was raw, and images of blood and bones quit flashing in your mind. 

Your clothes moved, and you startled, backed into the freezing tile. Your back jammed into the dial. 

Munson knelt before you, scooping your clothes with yellow, rubber gloves. He stood and held them at an arm’s length, letting the brown run-off squeeze out between you. “I’ll take these to the washer.” He grumbled, and then his gaze turned toward you. “Are you okay?” 

That same, pitiful brown look stared back you under wispy bangs. You nodded, resolute, but his gaze didn’t leave you, instead his eyes flit down your body, observing your sore spots, double-checking you hadn’t missed. Only, when his eyes returned to yours, his cheeks were pinched red, brown eyes more black, teeth rolling in his plump bottom lip. 

Your heart pounded in your ears, acutely aware of your state of undress. The hair on your legs prickled, your thighs quivered in the cold. You hugged at your middle, nipples pebbling beneath your slick tank top. Your hair clung to the sides of your face, droplets beading down your chest and shoulders. 

You watched him watch you a moment too long. You wanted to snap, call him a perv, but too much time had lapsed, and he had saved your life. Besides, the last time a boy your aged looked at you like this, you were pinned beneath Billy Hargrove, thrust against the leather seats of his Camaro. Although Billy Hargrove’s gaze was never that soft, that timid.

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering around the starting sound, breaking the spell.

Eddie ducked his head, still holding dripping clothes at arm’s length, and backed slowly out of the room. 

You stepped back under the frigid rush of water, the spray quenching every inch of you that licked with flames. “Eddie,” you gasped out the other side, clutching your hands to your chest to protect what modesty you had left. 

Eddie’s head snapped up, brown eyes locked on yours. 

“Can you f-find me something to wear?” 

His plump, pink lips split into a kind smile. As he wandered down the hallway, feet slapping on wet floors, you wondered if maybe you could add yourself to the list of interests. Your face heated, despite the rush of water, and you garbled the cold against your molars, fanning the flames that broiled through you. 

—

You hung back behind a shelf in the Children’s Section, pretending to take interest in a Sing-Along tape to avoid the notice of a gaggle of your ex-classmates. You’d picked the exact wrong time to try the video store, having slept in far too late on a Saturday. You should have just gone as soon as you’d gotten off work, but you were exhausted from scraping more adhesive from the walls of the third floor, and you slid into bed, still clothed with the lights on and fell asleep. 

So if you wanted to watch a movie this weekend, you were forced to brave the Saturday afternoon foot traffic. Your doctor said it was better to face your fears anyway. But you thought that meant talking to Keith, terrifying enough, not avoiding a bunch of bimbos you might’ve called friends once-upon-a-time. 

You had to duck to miss Carole as she swept around from the register, smacking her gum and making rude comments about the man behind the counter, but the second the bell signaled their disappearance, you popped up and hurried to the counter, eyes darting over your shoulder to make sure they’d gone for good.

“Well, look who it is.” Keith offered a yellowed smile, leaned across the counter at you. “Hey, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled cash from your pocket. “Yeah, yeah. You have a movie on hold for me? Labyrinth.” You pulled a pack of Red Vines from the display. 

He searched under the counter for your tape, taking his sweet time, while he whistled. “You know, this is a pretty damn popular one. Bowie? In those tight, tight pants? It was a bit difficult to keep on hold for you.” 

“Well thanks for doing it.” You pushed your cash across the counter. “I don’t need the change.” 

“Oh, I think you’re going to owe me more than that,” he cocked an eyebrow, so proud of himself, and you held back a gag at the orange dust crusting the corners of his smile. 

A ding signaled a new customer.

“Come on, Keith. Just give me the tape,” you rolled your eyes, heart thudding in your skull.

“Yeah, Keith, give her the tape.” Someone rasped behind you. You spun around to see a young blonde girl, freckled. Her face was familiar, kind eyed. 

“You don’t work for me anymore, Buckley.” Keith snapped.

“You’re right, but I can still protect the innocent from your greasy hands. Give her the tape, and I won’t say what I caught you doing in the warm-up closet in the band room.” 

You shuddered, and Keith hissed, sliding your tape across the counter and into your fingers. He clung on for a moment too long before snapping. “This is a five day rental. No longer, you hear me? This movie is a hot commodity and I can’t afford for you to be grinding and rewinding to Bowie for longer than necessary.” 

You grimaced, and barely wanted to pick it up after he released it, now having the visual of what every renter had done before you burned into your eyelids. 

“God, please tune him out.” The girl beside you winced.

“I try to,” you nodded, and crinkled your Red Vines to your chest.

“Good,” the girl eyed you for a moment before asking, “You work with Eddie right?”

“You work with Munson the Murderer?” Keith chimed in, but the girl quickly cut him off.

“I’m Robin. I’m a friend of Eddie’s. I think we may have had Calc together?” 

Calculus felt so long ago now. It was. But even longer, lifetimes even. Maybe that’s why the freckles and blue eyes felt familiar, a past life reaching back to you through the void. “Oh yeah, hi.” You muttered, heart pounding. This was more social interaction that you would have asked for, more than you wanted, what you usually avoided. 

“Eddie’s told me a lot about you. Sounds like work can get pretty crazy up there.” 

The small talk went a little too deep for you liking, panic clawing at your throat, heart thundering in your ears. You wondered what exactly he’d told her, about your constant scolding of him? Maybe he’d mentioned you were mental. Maybe he talked about that time this week when he’d watched you strip completely naked and you had to drive yourself home in naught but a crusty pair of pajama pants he had balled up in the back of his van. 

“I’ve got to go,” you backed slowly from the counter. 

“Sure, yeah. Um… good to see you again.” Robin offered a polite small, though she seemed taken aback by the change of pace. 

“You too,” you smiled, and waved Keith off when he shrieked “FIVE DAYS, PRINCESS!”

The inside of your car was hot, muggy. You turned the ignition and cranked down one of the windows, clutching the steering wheel as you backed slowly out of the parking lot and made your way home.

—

Neither of you had touched the room in a week, black tar solidifying in one corner. Your superiors, whoever they were, assured you on the phone that it was safe and to just use gloves, but you still felt the gnawing of memories whenever you stared into the abyss and had just left it alone, moving on down the hallway and up the next flight. 

But it needed to be done. So you stood in the doorway, chewing on the inside of you cheek, eyes glazed over with exhaustion, staring at the metal cabinet that had nearly crushed you, and its contents seeping into the cracks in the floor.

“Hey,” Munson’s voice startled your daze, and you leaned back to watch him approach from down the hall. His voice echoed, a little raspier than normal. “Wanna take a smoke break with me, and then we can tackle it together?” He jiggled a pack from his pocket.

You sighed, glancing once more into the dim room before you removed your gloves and discarded them beside a bucket and razorblades in the doorway. You clicked off the light, and Eddie waited for you at the top of the stairs. You descended together, down and out, into the warmth of summer.

The crickets chirped a lazy tune, bullfrog just off-beat, a little farther out in the swampland, where the drainage systems pour from the Lab into the land. You tried not to think of chemical leaks, tried not to delve into the chemistry that led to the breakdown of your life, tried not to focus on much but the cool grey limestone at your back and the buzzing warmth leaving your lungs in a cloud of smoke, out and upwards. 

“Me too,” Eddie released his smoke in agreement with your sigh, and he rested himself beside you, about a yard to your left. “I’m fucking tired.” 

You hummed and sucked in another hot drag. The two of you hadn’t really talked since that day in the showers, decided avoidance on your part, and you hoped ignorance on his. You broke down your tasks and tackled them separate, but efficiently, and never said much else beside the occasional greeting or farewell. You could be professional, but anything beyond that mortified you.

It had all been amplified by the strange dreams plaguing your nights. Mostly you looking for your family, circling a labyrinth that resembled work a little too much, and running into the Bowie-fied version of Eddie Munson, who had you gazing into crystal balls. You often fell into his trance, and into a large bed that looked a little too much like his van. Although every time he made a move, his eyes caught fire, turned into devilish blues, and Billy Hargrove was over you, grunting and groaning. Flames licked the sides of his car. 

“If I have to kill one more spider, I’m going to freak out.” 

You turned your head to look at him, watched his shoulder wrack with a shudder, and you felt yourself smile. “Scared of a little bug, Munson?” 

“First of all, they’re arachnids, not bugs.” His lips split in a grin. “Second, they’re fucking disgusting. I got this tattoo because I thought they were metal as Hell, and I have major regrets.” He pulled the collar of his shirt down to expose black ink on alabaster skin. The pucker of scarring intrigued you, but he released and the material folded back into place.

“That’s probably like a beacon to them.” You inhaled, pointed your cigarette in his direction, exhaled. “They probably think you’re their Mother.” 

He shuddered again, smoke catching in his throat, causing him to hack a little. He thumped at his chest with a fist and croaked, “Shit, stop. That’s disgusting.” 

You felt warm, something like laughter stirring in your chest. For some reason, you thought of your therapist, thought she might be proud of you. That reminded you of your assignment. You tilted your head back against the building, took another drag while he sputtered away beside you. You squeezed your eyes closed, and said like a prayer, “You’re like the Amazing Spider-Man.” 

He went quiet, so quiet you had to turn to look at the shocked expression etched across his stupid features. “You read comics?” His brows creased in the middle, jaw still hung open like you’d told him you killed JFK.

You flicked the ash from your cigarette, crossed on arm over your chest. You shrugged, stared out at the forest. “My brother did.” And it hurt as much as you thought it would, chest tight, bile bubbling up, head dizzy, heart pounding in your skull. 

“Oh,” Munson said, leaning back beside you, though you swore he’d inched closer. “Do you know which ones he liked?” 

You took another shaky inhale, difficult under the tremble of your fingers. Of course you knew. Every day you thought of it, saw flashes of him excitedly ripping open Christmas gifts, pulling them out of the box under his bed, laying at your feet on the living room floor, little head rested in his hands while you painted your toes. They gathered dust in the back of your storage unit now.

You swallowed thickly, hot, upper lip dripping with sweat. “He really liked,” your voice hurt, strained against the lump in your throat. “The X-Men. I think Cyclops was his favorite.” You hadn’t even talked to your shrink about this shit, couldn’t remember the last time those characters’ names passed your lips.

“Cyclops is cool,” Eddie commented from beside you, voice low, careful. You could feel the eggshells beneath his feet, tiptoed steps, dam cracking. 

“What about you?” You took measured breaths. “What do you like?” And it was a lifeline thrown, frantic, a buoy to reel you back in to safety, to take the pressure off of yourself, the words and thoughts from your mouth. 

“Oh, yeah I like the X-Men. I know this girl who’s very Jean Grey.” He took it and ran, offering a slick smile. Your shoulders relaxed. “I’m more of a Conan guy though. I’m really into like… fantasy? Comics, books. Well you know, I play Dungeons and Dragons. Huge nerd.” He pointed at himself with a thumb.

You blinked back at him, your mouth dry, hand shaking ash at your side. “You read fantasy?” 

“Duh,” he collapsed dramatically back into the wall, took another drag, popping smoke rings out with his lips in a round O and fingertip to his cheek.

You bit back a smile. 

“Tolkien is like a God to me.” His brown eyes sparkled, curls thrown back against the wall, and it wasn’t until his gaze found your mouth that you realized how close you’d gotten, both unintentionally gravitated toward one another as you spoke. 

You coughed and took a step back, tossing your cigarette to the ground to smoosh under your rubber sole. “You ready to take a stab at the gunk?” 

“No.” Eddie grumbled, stamping out his own cigarette, but he hurried ahead to hold the door open for you, bowing low as you entered. “Milady.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Cool it with the accents, or I’ll make you eat the goo.” 

He flashed you a grin. “Deal.” 

—

You felt squished between two slides and shoved under a microscope. The air in here tasted stale, and you were certain she’d pulled her chair up closer. She looked at you over those half-rims, a knowing expression across her tight features, like she knew the exact confusion that surrounded your strange comraderie with Eddie Munson more than you’d been able to interpret it yourself. 

“Comic books, you told me that one last week. What else?” 

You pressed your hands tight together, clammy in the humid air, and avoided her gaze, staring instead at the globe on one of her shelves. “He reads fantasy novels. The Hobbit’s his favorite.” 

“So you have that in common? That’s great.” 

“Yep,” you popped the consonant, drummed your fingers to your knees. 

“He’s in a band, or was… his bandmates left during the Earthquake.” 

“That’s too bad. Did you talk to him about that?” 

“No.” The air turned sour. You didn’t want to talk about the earthquake, didn’t want the conversation to delve deeper than surface level. Eddie had done a good job at rambling, running his mouth like he always did, and you enjoyed listening to him as you scooped dried gunk into buckets to be tossed. But you didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t want them rounded on you. 

“Did you talk to him about you at all? About your interests?” 

“No.” Your fingernails picked at rivets in the arm of the chair, cool metal against leather. 

“I think he’d like to know things about you. It sounds like you’d be good friends. You have a lot in common.” 

“We do not have a lot in common.” You shot back. 

She cocked a brow, scribbled some things onto her notepad. 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, stared sideways at the opened window, hot air spilling in through the fan. It wasn’t oscillating today, instead pointed between you, a breeze barely caught on the tops of your knees. 

“Okay, that’s three. What else?” 

“He did theater in high school.” 

“That’s fun. Did you go to high school together?” 

You nodded, picking a little harder at the rivet. 

“Did you know each other?” 

You shrugged. He was a year older than you until senior year. You remembered him as too loud in the cafeteria, too rowdy in hallways, too good at picking fights with the jocks. You’d seen him dealing at few parties, watched him from across a crowded room. He definitely always had a presence. And more than it fascinated you, it made you sad.

You knew about his parents, of course, Hawkins elite impossible to keep gossip from their mouths. You knew he lived at the trailer court. You knew he struggled through his studies, for truancy matters more than much else, because he was smart. 

“Is he attractive?” 

Your eyes snapped to hers, skin crawling under her smirk, and you scoffed, threw your hands in the air. “What is this? I thought I was here to solve my problems, to fix my fucked up brain, not for you to gain more information about my Freak coworker.”

“Alright,” she set her pen down, leaned back in her chair. “You want to talk about you? Go ahead. Have you been having nightmares again? How about panic attacks? Still hallucinating their deaths?” 

You swallowed, heart thundering in your ears. You crossed your arms over your chest. “I just don’t see how learning about my coworkers interests is relevant.” You whispered, resolve faltering. 

She spoke your name softly, leaning forward again on her knees. “I just worry about you being all alone.” 

“I’m not alone,” the emotion stung in your eyes, clumped inside your throat. 

“You’re not, no.” She agreed, voice too soft, too calm. “You have me, and you have Muffins, and you have this guy.” She glanced down at her paperwork for clarification. “Eddie? You have Eddie. It’s not healthy to close yourself off from everyone.” 

“I know,” you shot, but your voice was shaky. You clenched your fists in your lap for some sort of sturdy ground. 

“You lost everyone that was important to you, tragically. But it’ll be impossible to get over it if you don’t rebuild.”

You felt a tear trickle down your cheek, wet hot, and you swiped at it with a hurried hand. The buzzer went off. You gasped and sniffed and stood up.

“Your assignment for this week is to let him in. Tell him five things that are important to you.” She stood to offer you a tissue.

“Thanks, doc,” you scoffed, shouldering past her to rip open the door. “Really helpful sesh.” And you slammed the door behind you, heavy wood creating a satisfying thud.

—

Eddie jingled when he moved, chains and rings tucked into the pockets of his jumpsuit that clinked against one another like a wind chime with each air-jump and head bang. He had the volume of his Walkman turned all the way up, the crash of symbols heard from across a wide room. He’d ceased his sweeping in favor of pseudo-guitar, slender fingers picking a solo on the fretboard of the wooden handle. 

You admired him from afar, slowing your dusting to watch him work. His hands met on the handle near his pelvis, and he ground into them, stumbling onto the balls of his feet in concentration. You could barely make out the muffled solo on his headphones, but his face remained tight, screwed up in concentration. You caught yourself smiling, felt the corner of your lips turn up, your face warm. 

“NO.” You slammed your duster down, flustered as all Hell.

“Shit,” Munson dropped his broom, fumbled to tear his headphones off. They got caught in his hair, a foamy pad went flying. “Are you okay?” He breathed, staring at you with those wide, baby cow eyes. 

You ground your teeth and took a deep breath. “Fine. Sorry, sorry.” You turned away from him and took a deep breath. 

That was the fourth time you’d caught yourself staring, head tilting to observe the length of his fingers, the strength of his arms when he lifted chairs and buckets, the wide span of his back. When you shared smoke breaks, you watched the way his cheeks dimpled when he talked or laughed, melted into the twinkle in his brown eyes, noticed how plump and pink his lips are. 

It made you sick. It was your God damn therapists fault. Is he attractive? The question haunted you, plagued your dreams, banged around in your head ceaseless. What should have been a quiet and productive workweek suddenly filled with distractions and existential dread. 

Because the answer was yes, resolutely, Eddie “The Freak” Munson, was attractive. And okay, maybe the Metalhead-Drug-Dealing-Air-Guitarist wasn’t exactly your “type”, but you could point out the objective attractive qualities in the young man’s smile, in the way he brushed finger tips with your when he passed you the bleach container, in the meaty column of his throat when he’d thrown his head back in a laugh. 

Besides, just because you recognized his attractiveness, didn’t mean you were required to act on it. He sure as Hell wasn’t a Billy Hargrove. And the point of your shrink’s questions was to gain information on a friend, right? You could consider referring to Eddie Munson as your friend. Acquaintance, co-worker, maybe sometimes friend.

Your fingers trembled around your duster, dust flying every which way, coating the middle of your jumpsuit in a thin, grey layer. You chewed the inside of your cheek raw from days of almost-conversations.

“Hey, can you help me move this desk back?” His soft voice called from just over your shoulder.

You startled back around to face him. He was smiling, all dimpled cheeks and shiny eyes, and you set your duster down to help. The desk was heavier on his end, several drawers lined up on one side, and you stood in place while he swung it around. 

“So, um… I saw your friend, Robin, at Family Video the other day.” 

“She told me,” he grunted, wiped his hands on the front of his jumpsuit. 

“Oh,” you found a button on the front of your suit to fiddle with, brushed the dirt off with your thumb. 

“She said Keith was harassing you?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle Keith. I may have taken a trip to the loony bin and lost my social status, but I’ll always be higher on the food chain than that Loser.” 

Eddie whistled, lips tucked into his teeth in a smile. “Well, look who just pulled out her Princess tiara.” 

“Shut up,” you scoffed, picking up your duster. “Actually, apparently I have Calculus with Robin. I think I was so far up my own ass in high school, I couldn’t physically see anyone beneath me.” 

“I was in that class too.” 

You blinked up at him, Cheshire grin and jazz hands. You tried to remember him, wracked your brain from any garbled memories of him in that class. Maybe once? Or at least, you could envision him at the back of the classroom, notably sleeping through the lecture. “You were?”

“Well, I was enrolled. Didn’t mean I went.” He laughed, drumming his knuckles on the desktop. 

“No wonder you didn’t graduate.” You snorted. 

His shoulders sunk a little, and you were full of instant regret. He rounded to his broom stick and pushed some extra lint silently into the hall before turning to face you again. “Hey, I don’t think you were as holier-than-thou as you think.” 

You shot him a confused look. 

“Do you remember that time you like totally saved my ass?” 

You shook your head slowly. 

“After you graduated, out at Sattler’s Quarry. Remember Tommy Hagan and Harrington got into that huge fight?” He emphasized his story with thrown fists. “Blood everywhere.” 

You weren’t sure that image would ever leave your mind, Tommy pinned under Steve’s thigh, blood seeping into the rocky soil, mixing into a red paste. Billy Hargrove broke it up, ripped Steve off Tommy, threw him into the hood of a car. You nodded. 

“Right, well, I was there for my… goods and services,” he cocked a brow. “And Billy Hargrove was fired up, man. So when he walked past me, I tried to push it. I don’t know why, Hell, I was probably pissed that I didn’t graduate again.”

You ducked your head at his words, guilty to have used them first. 

“But I said something to him, I don’t even know what. Something about a stick up his ass, and this dude, huge dude, remember Hargrove? He just shoved me about ten feet. Called me a fag. Asked if I wanted to look like Hagan.”

You remembered now. It was all filtered through the fuzz of alcohol, the glow of graduation, rough around the edges like a smudge on the lens. You don’t remember what Eddie said, but you remembered the shove. You remembered the steam rolling off Billy’s back all night. You remembered slipping your hand around his sticky bicep and pulling him away, coaxing him with your tongue to the underside of his ear, comforting him with blissful promises fulfilled in the back of his car. 

“He could’ve destroyed me, man.”

Eddie Munson was the antithesis of that, all soft edges past the hardened exterior, alabaster skin and Cheshire smile. He was nimble fingers and melodic laughter. He was smoke rings and flannel pajama pants, and a bit of warmth and light to cold, lonely nights in an abandoned lab. 

You felt your face heat, but you swung out your fist to meet his shoulder. 

He stumbled back dramatically, as though he’d taken a blow ten times the strength, back to the same annoying little shit. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him into the hallway. “Maybe I wanted to beat your ass myself, Munson.”

—

Supply closet runs were your least favorite. Cramped quarters that reeked of your worst nightmares. A windowless hole, stacked shelves full of chemicals and toilet paper, shadows cast by a flickering overhead. No, you’d avoided the closet for weeks now, politely sending your coworker up for more bleach, more paper, more buckets. 

But today he’d been busy, all the way across this section of the floor, dusting cobwebs from a room coated in them, and you didn’t want to interrupt his head-bang session just to have him get a new bucket of bleach. So you went, with courage, and a few deep breaths, hands shaking against the aluminum handle.

The light ticked a few times before it came on, bathing everything in soft white. You avoided eye contact with the rat poison in the bottom corner, crude images of rat skulls and crossbones across the fronts of giant cardboard boxes. Your hands shook against metal shelves. You glanced upward and downward, past sponges and buckets, until you found gallons of bleach, heavy pitchers, and even that was enough to set you off.

You pulled it from the shelf, arms aching under the weight, and you paused with the bottle on the floor at your feet, squeezing your eyes tight. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie screamed, skidding into view, and you startled, tripping over your bottle to fall to the floor at the back of the closet. 

You scrambled against the linoleum, smacking your head into the metal shelving, and you cursed, holding the smarting base of your skull.

“Shit, shit, shit!’ Eddie crowed, entering the small space to offer you a hand. 

“What is your deal, Munson?” You hissed, taking his hand to help you upright. You head pulsed with a deep thud, just where you’d smacked it, and you could feel the pool of warmth just under your skin. 

“Biggest spider of my life.” He shuddered, and you glanced over his shoulder in time to see the door slide closed. The click of the latch confirmed it.

“Shit,” you shoved past him and reached for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “No, no, no.” You pulled at the lever rapidly, so rapidly, in fact, that you heard the unmistakable clatter of aluminum just on the other side. The handle had broken off. “No, no, no!” You slammed your fists to the door and held your face in your hands.

“Well, fuck,” Munson offered from behind you, and you rounded on him.

“This is your fault,” you shoved your finger into his sternum. “It was a spider, Munson. Boo-freaking-hoo.”

“Big spider,” he gulped, holding both hands in the air to exhibit the size. 

The air around you grew staler by the second, the humid warmth of proximity mixed with the tang of chemicals, and your head began to spin. You backed yourself into the corner next to the door and clawed at the top buttons of your jumpsuit, struggling to catch a breath. Hazard symbols on packages stared down at you, grinning, gaping holes where eyes should be. The top of Eddie’s hair blocked the light from this angle, a cascade of shadows set about the room, and you dug your fingers into a toilet paper roll until it burst.

“Whoa, okay,” Eddie put his hands up in surrender, pity floating back into his large brown eyes. “What’s going on? Are you having a stroke?”

Were you having a stroke? You couldn’t smell. The chemicals stung in your nostrils, light flickering overhead, reminding you of the lamps around your living room, the vibrant disco of lightbulbs before the sudden burst, the splatter, the screams you heard but didn’t feel. 

“I’m just…” You gasped, pulling your jumpsuit from your shoulders. “I can’t…” 

“Can’t what? Can’t breathe?” He was too close, hands up like you had a fork pointed to his chest, like you’d escaped and had been caught just in the woods off-grounds, like you were a terrified rabbit and he was luring you back into his trap.

You squeezed your eyes closed, shook your head, sunk to the floor. Your knees pulled up to your chest and you tried to breathe, tried to regulate. What had you been taught? 

Five things you could see. Your eyes slammed open and immediately you came face to face with the rat poison boxes. A small cry escaped past your lips, and you immediately darted your eyesight upwards.

“You’ve gotta work with me here, man. I’m freaking the fuck out.” Eddie pushed his hands into his hair, his own breathing become erratic.

Eddie. Okay good, you could see Eddie. His hair, his jumpsuit, his sneakers. You gulped, pulled your hands in front of your face. Your hands. Toilet paper. Good. Four things you could feel. You felt the cold linoleum under your ass, the canvas of your jumpsuit between pinched fingers, the metal wrung of a shelf digging into your shoulder. Three things you could hear.

“Me. I’m here. You can hear me.” Eddie said, and you hadn’t realized you’d been saying everything out loud until you blinked back up at him. “Me. You can hear me. Uh…” He picked up the bleach container and sloshed it, the whoosh of liquid in plastic. It startled you. He wrapped his knuckles against the locked door. “This. You can hear that. Three things. What’s next?” 

You stared at him for a moment before hearing yourself croak, “Two things I can smell.” 

“Oh, easy,” he pulled open the cap from the bleach and offered it to you.

“No!” You called out, shielding yourself from it.

With watchful hands, he screwed the cap back on and set it on a back shelf. He looked around for a minute before squatting down to your level. He held his hands out to you, a request for permission, and you didn’t stop him, so he pressed on, just into your bubble. 

“I showered this morning.” He muttered, tugging the hair tie from his hair to release the mess from its ponytail. It fell around his face and shoulders, and his face split into a grin as he leaned into you. “Got this new shampoo. Supposed to smell more manly. What do you think?” 

You paused, still stunned at his actions, but you inhaled deeply through your nostrils. He smelled of cedar and maybe sandalwood, something Earthy under the typical stink of marijuana and tobacco, spray of bleach still settled on his hands. 

“Eh?” He sat back on his heels, squat down in front of you like a teacher to a little girl. “What else?” 

You swallowed, stale air swarmed with him. Light filtered between you, barely, but he was warm and the ground against you cool, and you licked the waxy shell of your lips. “One thing to taste.” 

He looked at you, big brown eyes, brows creased in the middle, and you felt your stomach swoop under his gaze. You were drawn back to the showers, the sweep of his eyes across your exposed flesh, lingering on the soft and sensitive bits of you. He pulled his tongue between his teeth, wet his plump lower lip, and your breath stuttered in your lungs. 

He shifted his weight, leaning toward you, and your heart thundered in your chest, different from panic, barely so, but you could feel the warmth tickle your throat, the familiar kick of something deeper in your stomach, something kinder, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. You leaned forward as well, shoulders relieved from the pressure of the metal rack. 

Only Eddie sat back, hand held between you with a little white-wrapped stick, red lettering littered the package. “Doublemint?” He grinned. With warmed cheeks, you plucked it from his hands and unfolded the paper around it. 

—

“Well, the good news is we’re not trapped forever.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “What are you talking about?”

“My buddy, Dustin, you remember him,” he offered you an apologetic grimace, posting himself on the floor across from you. “He makes me walkie him every morning when I get home. If he doesn’t get a walkie, he’ll come looking.” 

“What?”

He’d said it all so casual, as though it made perfect sense, and when it didn’t, he sighed and began to unbutton his jumpsuit, air growing heavier and muggier as the sun undoubtedly rose outside. “Dustin and I went through some major shit last year,” he explained with the wave of his hand. “He worries about me. ‘Specially in this shit hole.” He banged a fist into the ground. The metal racks rattled around you, bleach sloshing a few feet over your heads. 

You clung to the one closest in an attempt to stabilize it, shot him a look. 

“Sorry,” he winced, rolling up the sleeves to expose his forearms. An army of bats littered one side, faded and patched. “At least this isn’t new for us. You know. Because we’ve both spent time on the inside.” 

“No.” You argued, picking at the rubber toe of your sneakers.

“What?”

“My time on the inside was voluntary.” 

“What?” He repeated, blinking back at you, all movements stilled.

“I had myself committed,” you hissed through grit teeth. “Bet you heard it other ways, huh? Princess gets thrown into the asylum, kicking and screaming. Men in white coats, puffy walls.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you with careful eyes. 

“Well it wasn’t like that, okay? Not for me. I walked in, asked the front desk for a room. Lady laughed at me until I told her what I saw, or what I thought…” Your words caught in your throat. You swallowed. “Anyway, they were fairly accommodating.” 

“So tell me about it,” Eddie urged, sliding his foot across the small space to kick at your shin.

“What?” 

“What was it like?” He shrugged. 

“You first.” 

He sighed, shoulders sagging against the metal shelves, jumpsuit open to his waist, exposing an enticing logo of a band you’d never heard of on his black t-shirt. “Well, being arrested for murdering several teenagers is pretty shitty. Cops aren’t exactly friendly to serial killers, fun fact.” His tone was dry, raw, probably the least chipper you’d ever seen him. “They pretty much treated me like dog shit until they found out I didn’t do it. Kicked me in the ribs, barely gave me water. Definitely no smoke breaks. Thought they might have sent me to Pennhurst once they heard my story.” 

“What happened?” You pried, curiosity rolling through you faster than your brain could shut your mouth up.

He offered a half-lipped smile, tight, didn’t reach his eyes. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Major asshole serial killer from the 50s got them. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” His voices lilted the way it often did, but there was cruelty behind it, remorse, something you couldn’t quite reach. 

“Were you scared?” 

He let out a laugh, slid through his teeth like he couldn’t believe your asked. He shook his hair from his eyes, looked at you. “Scared shitless. We’re just kids, man. We’re not supposed to see that shit. We’re not supposed to watch…” He recoiled, eyes slammed closed, and he shook his head. “I still get nightmares, like every night.” 

“Me too,” you let your knees down from your chest, arms sore from holding them up, and the canvas of your pants touched on the tile.

“They ever go away?” He asked, pleading. 

You shrugged. “Sometimes. They aren’t as gruesome as they once were. It’s mostly memories now. Opening Christmas gifts, but I can’t show them what I got because they’re around the corner, in the other room, just out of reach. Or driving down the road and they’re at the shoulder, just waving, but I can’t crank down my window to say anything to them. The crank breaks in my hands. The brakes stop working. I have to drive past.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie mumbled. 

You let out a shaky exhale, stale mint falling in the air, and you shook your shoulders out, cramps forming at the bend in your neck. 

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, voice soft, toe kicking your leg again.

“Didn’t you hear?” You laughed. ���I’m cured.” 

He snorted. 

—

Eddie’s humming never ceased. A constant drumming of knuckles to kneecaps and the sweet tune of something you’d never heard of, but somehow had memorized. The air in here was hot and stale, both of you stripped out of the top half of your suits, and the flickering of the light above did your head in. 

“Munson, I swear to God,” you grumbled, jaw tight, shoulders tighter. 

“Huh?” He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it. The incessant barrage of music from his being was entirely instinctual. 

You groaned, cheek pressed against metal rack to stay cool. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to murder you.” 

He sighed, ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s stuck in my head.” 

“Well, now it’s stuck in mine too.”

“Okay, so tell me something,” he kicked at your shin. 

“What?” You frowned back at him, all hunched shoulders and mop of hair. 

“Fill my head with something other than this bitchin’ tune.” His lips split in a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “You want a bedtime story?” 

“No, just…” He crossed his legs, like a child, and leaned elbows on his knees toward you. His fingers tugged at the laces of your sneakers. “Did you ever have like… a dream?” 

You sighed, threw your head back, closed your eyes. “A dream? Have you lost it? What are you talking about?” 

He jiggled your ankle, thick fingers against your bare skin. “I mean like, before this. Before all of it.” And when you peeked open an eye to watch him, he sighed. “Okay, like yes, I know Hawkins Lab janitorial staff is the job everyone’s vying over, and don’t get me wrong, you look sexy as Hell in the jumpsuit.” He tugged at the cuff of your pants, and you sucked back a smile, face heating at the comment. “But like, what were you going to do? Like what was your dream?”

“What did I want to be when I grew up?”

He flashed his canines in a grin, nodded his shaggy hair up and down. 

You sighed and pulled yourself upright, tucking one knee up to hold your body weight. You left your other leg out, just below the reach of his hand. He continued to tug absently on your laces. “I wanted to be a teacher.”

God, it’d been years since you thought of that. The idea of teaching young ones pushed far aside, another life, somewhere happy with rainbows on the walls and finger-paint and hand puppets. There was no hurt there, no bloodshed, no exploding family members. 

“Like for little kids?” Eddie’s voice was soft, brown eyes watching, intersted, like a puppy.

You nodded, picking at the rubber of the shoe closest to you. “Kindergarten. They’re just cute at that age. They listen, but they’re just starting to pick up a little sass. They’re all bright-eyed about that world. They sing a lot.” You glanced up at your cellmate, all sparkly-eyed and full of song. You snorted, reaching out to poke the dimple on his left cheek. “Kind of like you.” 

“You think I’m cute?” He waggled his eyebrows.

You bit back another smile, opting for an eye roll. “You wish, Munson.” 

“I’m still waiting for Stockholm syndrome to kick in.” His expression was too smug, tongue poking out to wet his lips, and you shoved at him. 

“You perv.” 

But you both laughed, and a comfortable silence fell over the room. You watched his fingers trail the curves of your shoe, feeling the soft pressure of drawn shapes. You ventured a glance up at him, and he seemed zoned out, tongue between lips again now, but only in concentration. He bobbed his head slowly along to something, and after a few moments, you’d realized it was that damn song again, playing in a ceaseless loop around his empty little head. 

You kicked at his hand until his focused blinked back to you, and you laughed, rolled your eyes. “What about you?” 

He frowned, nodded, matter-of-fact. “I’ve always thought you were cute.” 

You felt your face heat and immediately retreated into the safety of your hands. His gaze was warm on you, waiting for you reaction, and you managed a sputtered, “I meant your dream…” 

“Oh!” He cackled, head thrown back in a laugh, as though his words were weightless, and as though your pulse hadn’t picked up in panic. “I dunno. Thought I’d be touring with my band.” 

Then, you heard a series of crashes from the hallway, the first sounds beside Eddie’s humming in hours. You both scrambled to your feet, Eddie helping you up with a sturdy grasp to the back of your arm. “Told you. We’re saved.” 

“What if it’s not your friend?” You whispered, tucking yourself behind him and pulling the top half of your jumpsuit back on. “Didn’t they warn us of vandals and shit. What if it’s just someone breaking in?” 

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine?” He hissed, but you noticed his arm came out to protect you, hold you behind him. Maybe it was just instinct, but your stomach swooped at the gesture, and you fisted the back of his suit. 

“Eddie!? EDDIE!? IT’S DUSTIN! ARE YOU ALIVE!?” 

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed, and he shot you a smirk before walking a few steps forward to bang on the door. “DUSTIN! We’re in here! We got locked in!” 

You heard the scuffling of feet outside, the slap and squeak of sneakers on linoleum, and then a somewhat familiar voice was requesting for you to stand back. Eddie crowded your space, backing you into the corner. He was all leather and shampoo, shoulders broader than you imagined, now that he was all pushed up against you.

You cried out as something began attacking the door. A few hefty swings, and a gust of fresh air pooled in. The door was beaten through with something jagged, and soon there was space enough to climb through. With one foul kick, your rescuer managed to knock it off its hinges, and the whole thing crashed in pieces to the linoleum.

“Our heroes,” Eddie cooed, stepping out into the light hallway and swinging his arms around Dustin’s small frame. You followed shortly after to find Steve Harrington, hand on his hip, leaning his full body weight onto a baseball bat that had been nailed through about a dozen times. Your name slipped from his lips when he saw you, brows furrowed in confusion, as though you were the surprise factor here.

Eddie tried to corral him for a hug, but Steve kept him at arm’s length, dad-stance in full effect with a finger to the other boy’s chest. “I’m fucking tired, Munson. You should know better than to scare Henderson like that. If I get another walkie call this early in the morning, I’m leaving you for dead. Let’s go.”

—

Muffins purred, the rumble of fluff and fur and limbs, all piled atop your chest. Your book was straining your pinky fingers, held aloft and tilted just so to capture the dim light of your bedside table. You’d probably read the same fifteen pages over and over again, distracted by the fading black digits that cursed your left arm. 

That morning, when Steve Harrington saved your asses from dying of starvation in the supply closet, Eddie halted your trip to your car across the lot. He grabbed your wrist, pulled back the sleeve of your denim jacket, and scribbled his phone number onto your skin there, Sharpie cap between his teeth. 

“If you get nightmares, or you know, you just need a friend. I live alone and never sleep.” He said, mouth full, and winked before slowing backing himself to his van.

The numbers taunted you, refusing to budge in the shower, doing the dishes. Even Ponds couldn’t sway the scribbled handwriting of your coworker. You transferred the numbers onto a piece of paper, stuck it to your fridge, but now even that was unnecessary. You’d memorized it. Every curve of a five, every cross through sevens and zeros, as though those numbers needed to be taken down a peg. 

You sighed and tucked your bookmark into your place, wondering if you’d know what the hell was going on when you picked it up tomorrow. You set your book on your nightstand and rolled, dumping Muffin from your lap to her spot on your bed. She didn’t notice. You stretched to click off your lamp, bathing the room in darkness, sunlight poking from under the edges of your curtains on the far side of the room. You could just make out the new tattooed numbers, trailed them with the fingertips of your right hand and slowly, you fell asleep.

—

You kicked yourself up from the deep end, reaching for the soft blue sunlight, surfacing with a gasp. Your hair clung to your face, suit to your breasts, your stomach. Your hand wrapped around the ladder and you pulled yourself upright, into the sun soaked air. The lifeguard station was empty, bright red. You had to hold a hand over your eyes to see it. 

You didn’t bother with a towel, b-lined for the locker room to get out of there before the 4th of July rush. Everyone was headed to the carnival, chatting about the festivities in excitement. Gossip was thrown around about who hooked up with who. Apparently Billy Hargrove was having dinner with Heather Holloway’s family the other night. You snorted, snapped yourself out of your suit, pulled on dry underwear, denim shorts, a pink tank top. 

Big Buy was out of hot dogs, out of ketchup, running low on ice cream. You managed to grab a few other items on your list, a handwritten note from your Mom that you’d crumbled and carried in the inner pocket of your purse. Milk, eggs, barbecue sauce, cole slaw fixings, green beans for casserole. Brenda checked you out, bubblegum smacking. 

An accident blocked the roadway on your way home, people too excited to get to the Ferris wheel and fun house. You were going later, with Tommy and Carole and Tina and Jeff. Tommy promised booze and fireworks, and Tina promised her older brother was in town from college. You’d always found him attractive. 

Finally, you managed to turn down your road, hair frizzing as the pool water dried, dampening the shoulders of your tank top and the leather headrest of your car. You pulled into the driveway behind dad’s car, surprised he’d returned home so soon. They were headed to the carnival too, after dinner.

You balanced handfuls of grocery bags, and toed your front door open, calling for Mom. Something smelled off, chemically. Maybe they’d been cleaning. You crossed to the kitchen and set your haul on the counter, but it only smelled worse in there. You flicked on the light. A pile of pellets led from the kitchen to the garage. You followed it, flicked on the garage light.

A massive bag of rat poison lay open, several other bottles surrounding it, all with puncture marks, spilling, mixing with one another. You gasped into the crook of your elbow, trying to back out of there without tripping on the stuff ground into the linoleum. You coughed, sputtered. 

“Mom! Dad!?” You called their names, racing back into the living room. “What the hell happened in the garage? Mom?!”

Your parents and your little brother stood at the base of the stairs, stick-straight, holes burned through their clothes, blood and burns gathering at their lips, pouring down the fronts of them. 

“Guys? What’s going on?” 

“We’re going home.” The words sunk into you, otherworldly, as though it was the obvious answer.

—

You awoke with a scream, startling Muffins off the bed and into a dark corner. You looked frantically at your surroundings, feeling for blood, brain matter. You sucked in a few deep breaths, smelling for chemicals. You flicked on your lights, eyes darting to and fro, all around the room, only to find Muffins stuffed into your laundry hamper, grumpy that you’d woken her with such gusto. 

Your hands trembled, and you pushed the quilt off your legs. You stepped out of bed, on shaky footing, and stepped out of your room into the darkness of your apartment. You poured yourself a glass of water, and then two, and tried to stabilize your breath. You were alright. You were safe. It was just a nightmare. You ran a hand through your hair and caught something out of the corner of your eye. 

Black digits etched into your wrist. “If you get nightmares, or you know, you just need a friend.”

You stared at the numbers way too long, cold water turned tepid in your right hand, and then something possessed you to do it. Phone off the receiver, numbers jammed violently into the buttons until it connected, rang once, and you slammed the receiver back down in a panic, nearly knocking the entire phone off the wall. 

You chewed on your thumbnail, something you hadn’t done in over a year. Your hand tasted salty and bleachy and you immediately put it down and dumped your water into the sink. You watched it circle the drain and jumped when your phone rang. 

Shrill and demanding, a sound you couldn’t remember the last time you heard. You let it ring three, four times, knowing who it was, terrified to greet them. On the fifth ring, you inched your fingers toward the handle, drew it up to your ear. You took a deep breath, heard the connection, squeezed your eyes closed. “Hello?” 

“Knew it was you, Princess.”

You could hear the tired grin etched to his features, the sleep rasping in his voice. “You know I hate that nickname.” 

And then there was concern laced in his response, a hurriedness, like you sounded as miserable as you felt. “What’s wrong?”

Your breath shucked out of you. “Nightmare.” But it came out a whisper, cord wrapped around you, body hugged into the retaining wall. 

“Want to talk about it?”

You didn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t explain it, not to anyone. You’d sound fucking insane. You were fucking insane. Your heart ramped up, and you squeezed your eyes tighter, clenched your fist, your jaw, everything. “Can you meet me somewhere?” 

You heard the shuffle from his end, like he was struggling with something, maybe hiking into a pair of pants. Your face heated at the idea of him in bed, pantless, probably sleeping when you called. You felt horrible. 

“Yes,” he huffed. “Yes. Where should we meet? I’m leaving right now.” 

Your heart ached suddenly, at his haste, at the gentle change of his voice. “You know Lookout?”

“Weathertop, sure?” You smiled softly at his little fantasy-ism. “See you in ten?” 

“Okay.” And he let you hang up first.

—

Daylight melted to sunset, dipping everything in peachy pinks and tangerines. You almost chickened out three times. Once when your keys didn’t fit in the lock, hands too shaky, keyring too full. Once when you ran a red light, the blare of a horn from beside you. One when you stared at the vast open field, stained brown from too many rainless nights, sun bleached and still.

Eddie’s van was there when you parked, a crusty brown stain to blend in with the landscape, but he wasn’t inside. No, he pockmarked the tip top of the hill, a black silhouette against the clouds, shoulders slumped, smoke billowing upward. 

You climbed toward him with weak thighs, shaking knees, trepidation pounding beneath your ribcage. When you neared the top, legs aching and lungs on fire, Eddie turned on his heels to face you, reached a hand out to help you the rest of the way. 

“Hill’s a bitch if you’re a smoker,” he grinned.

You nodded, resting hand to your thighs to catch your breath. 

“Worth it though.” He gestured upwards and outwards, over Hawkins. 

Cotton candy pink clouds touched down just over the highway, spilling golden light onto dozens of brick buildings, torn asunder from the Earthquake. The roads were rippled and scarred, four corners pulling together at Town Hall, a mess of road construction, neon orange and reflective cones, massive machinery. Everything smelled of tar, rebuild, rebirth. 

You hummed, taking in the warmth of the last bits of sun poking through, the fading lights of summer coming to a close, brewing leaves and pulling autumn on the wind. 

Eddie Munson was uncharacteristically quiet beside you, and when you peeked an eye open, you saw he was watching you, a cautious smile wetting his lips. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured, hugged your denim jacket a little tighter. 

He nodded, pinched his lips together, took his place beside you, a little close, elbows touching. He turned to you again before saying. “You don’t have to like… pretend for me, or whatever. You know that, right?” 

You didn’t look at him, stared ahead at the mess of cars pooling out of Big Buy’s parking lot. 

“I just…” He sighed, shoved his own hands into his pockets, elbow bumping your ribcage. “I just want you to feel safe.” 

The words ached somewhere deep in you, with the burn of your thighs or the emotion caught in your throat. You didn’t respond, just leaned more on your left leg, stared out at Hawkins.

The two of you remained that way for a while, too long, in comfortable silence, sunlight slipping off past the horizon. Your legs grew restless, toes sticky in your shoes. Eddie began to hum.

“I knew it,” you turned to him with a smirk.

“What?” 

“Couldn’t get you to shut up for too long.” 

His lips split that, into that Cheshire grin, and he pulled his hands from his pockets, chains jingling and rings clinking against one another. The frizz of his hair was lit up orange, an ember of something you wanted to run your fingers through. Your heart thundered in your ears. 

“Munson?” You took a deep breath. 

“Yes?” He was warm, leather and cedar and smoke. His head tilted like a puppy dogs, eyes catching your stare of his lips, his throat, the pucker of scarring there, dipping into the collar of his t-shirt.

“I need to tell you five things that are important to me.” You were breathless, trembling, too close, not close enough. 

“Okay,” he laughed, like maybe you told a soft joke, but when he caught the panic on your voice, he cleared his throat. “Okay. Tell me.” 

You swallowed. “My cat, Muffins.”

“Muffins is a cute name,” he nodded, still stone-faced serious, and that helped, drew a little laugh from you. The corners of his lips turned up. “Why is Muffins important to you?” 

You shrugged. “She just is.” 

“Got it, Muffins. What else?” His brows pulled together. 

“Fantasy novels.” You nodded. “I’m rereading Earthsea.”

“Jesus Christ, that book is so good!” He emphasized with fists in the air, and you couldn’t help but laugh at that too. He dropped his hands and grasped the backs of your arms, shaking them excitedly. “Okay, Muffins and Earthsea.” One of his hands came up to expose two fingers. You immediately missed the warmth of him, relieved when he returned his grasp. “What else?” 

“I really like Jim Henson.” 

“Like… the Muppets?”

You cowered under his gaze and shrugged. “More like Dark Crystal. But yeah, I guess.” 

He flashed you a knowing grin, waggling his eyebrows. “Okay. Muffins, Earthsea, Kermit. That’s three.” He shook your shoulders with each word. “Number four?” 

You swallowed, heart racing. Your entire demeanor must have shifted because he released your arms, opened the space between you. You watched to reach out for him, to envelope him around you, as images flashed through your mind of the pool, the grocery store, the garage. We’re going home. You felt yourself well with emotion, and those big, brown eyes stared back at you, glassy, calm, full of pity. 

“My fam…” You croaked. You took a deep breath, inhale. Shaky exhale. You could do this. You stood resolute, a Stone Mountain looking out over your land, your town, your home. “My family is important to me.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, hair dancing in your periphery. “Of course they are. They’re your family. They always will be.” He inched toward you, voice soft, and said, “I’m really, really sorry for what happened to them.” 

You closed your eyes, felt a tear burst over the damn, trickling down your cheek, and you reached out beside you until you caught his hand. His fingertips were calloused, rough, warm, a stark contrast from the metal rings that were cool beneath your touch. He intertwined your fingers and pulled you in, one easy swoop until you were sunk into the meat of his neck, and his other arm was slunk around your shoulders.

His smoky breath fanned your face and dampened your hair, and you took your hand from his to wrap yourself around his waist. He was slim around the middle, but the wide expanse of his back flexed taught muscles beneath your fingers. His shirt was damp at the base and up his spine from sweat, and the leather jacket and his body heated you like a furnace. He whispered your name into your temple, a sweet well-wish, a beacon calling you back.

You pulled away with a shy laugh, warm, sticky, coaxing away any leftover tears with the back of your hand, and he kicked at the ground with his sneakers, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled. Your palms were sweaty. 

“Sure.” There was something in his voice, an underlying rumble. 

You saw something then, in his eyes, the way they swept over your face, your form, soaking in every inch of flesh that was exposed. You thought of your body pressed against his, could still make out the dents of you in the front of his t-shirt. You thought of the shower that day, ice cold, gooseflesh prickled, the careful, watchful stare. He was making sure you were safe, were cared for, were wanted. You licked your lips, looked down at your feet, watched his shadow inch closer. 

You ventured another glance through your eyelashes, and he took another step closer, slow, steady, hands raised in trepidation. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked.

You raised an eyebrow to him. 

He shrugged, running a hand through his mess of hair. “Because you just confessed to me that you’re into The Muppets, and I really don’t know how to handle that situation…”

You sucked in a smile and shook your head. “Munson?” 

“Yeah?” He stared at you, eyebrows raised. He’d fully stepped back into your space, face inches from yours, dimples pulled into those cheeks, pinched pink.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He did, hair cascading around your face, and nose crowding yours. He asked you if you were sure, one more time, before you stepped up on the balls of your feet and crashed your lips together. His hands found gentle space on your waist, pinching the cotton of your t-shirt between his rings, and you placed a soft hand on his neck and pulled him down toward you, taking all of the heat and smoke from his lips. He let out the sweetest, softest sound when you tangled your fingers into his hair, and you couldn’t help but smile when he pulled away and breathed, “Damn.” 

You ran your hands over his chest, felt the rippled of skin beneath the cotton of his t-shirt, and his hands came to tug at the belt loops on the sides of your shorts until you looked up at him again. His lips peeled back to expose canines, Cheshire grin turned smug.

“What’s five?” He asked, nosing at your cheek.

You frowned back at him.

“Muffins, Earthsea, Kermit, family, and…”

You shoved at his shoulder, and he released his hold on you with dramatics, flinging himself backwards like he’d taken an arrow to the chest. You rolled your eyes and started back down the hill, pinched pink sky fading into a royal blue.

“Hey! What’s five?” He called after you. 

You shrugged. “I think I need a cigarette,” you called back. “Got any in your van?” 

He took off after you, and you cried a laugh, turning heel and sprinting down the hill to your vehicles, night air softening. Crickets chirped their lazy song, Eddie’s chains jingled, and the ground was still under your rubber soles. 

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello!! Do you think you could do a part 2 of my request? An maybe a lil bit of angst with fluff where the reader comes to the mansion crying because someone hurt them?( Maybe techno or dream? Possibly jack manifold? 👀) Hopefully that's ok I just love the way you write it's so good plus it makes my day whever I read :D hopefully your day or evening is going good

<3

imhereforfan-fic : Omg can you do another yandere tubbo x reader x yandere ranboo romantic relationship please? Maybe where they get kidnapped by the dream team? Oh and adding on to my request can it also have some cuddling towards the end haha I’m touch starved and crap lol but can it a full length fic Okay okay okay. So. I'm so damn happy people loved this fic and I got two requests that I can easily add together. I hope neither of you minds too much having your requests mixed together ^^ I deadass wanna cry from how many positive reviews I've received from Too Sweet. ALSO. I'm a little wary of making romantic fics for characters Ranboo and Tubbo so I'm gonna play with the platonic marriage, just making it really fluffy and affectionate. PS: THIS ISNT AS FLUFFY AS I WANTED IT TO BE SOOOO OOOOPS. AAAAND. TOMMY ONLY TOOK ONE OF DREAM'S LIVES IN THE FINAL DISC WAR

LIKELY TO HAVE MANY ERRORS DUE TO BAD WIFI AND LACK OF SLEEP TW: Knives (+injuries that come from knives), kidnapping, taking of canon lives, Dream being power-hungry, minor panic attack, referenced strangulation.

Part One

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Part 2

A few months had passed since you had moved into the mansion and some... How ended up involved in Ranboo and Tubbo's marriage, as well as being Michael's mother. At first, you were quite unsure about being a wife or a mother, but you saw how happy you had made the three boys and realized how happy they made you in return. In the beginning, neither of them wanted you leaving the mansion much without either of them, but then Ranboo started to notice small and minor declines in your physical and mental health. This caused him to panic and study your symptoms for a few days straight, to the point where you didn't see him once and you were genuinely scared he had lost his canon lives to the point where you kept checking your right wrist constantly for the message confirming Ranboo's death. But thankfully you never got it. When he had figured out what was causing your health to be less than absolutely perfect, he had spoken to Tubbo about letting you out of your room more often and getting you the sunlight you needed. It took a little bit to convince him, but once the goat hybrid learned that you could, or even would, become a lot sicker, he decided to allow you to go outside without them, as long as you stayed within Snowchester. You met a man the first few days you were out, who wore white glasses with blue and red lenses, and a headset with a mic, although he ran away from you the second you introduced yourself as Ranboo and Tubbo's (platonic) wife. Foolish had quickly become your friend around the same time though, which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to be a little unsure because of how he made you laugh and smile, but they noticed how you always kept him at arm's length with friendship and almost physically. Sure you didn't mind too much when he gave you a friendly side hug or pat on the head etc, but you were never really the one to initiate the contact unless you had to. Thankfully he didn't mind your awkwardness around strangers, trust issues, or lack of social exposure, so Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have to threaten a literal god. After saying goodbye to Michael for the day and putting him down for his nap, you got dressed into something more appropriate for travelling the snowy lands that Tubbo owned. Ranboo had to go to a Syndicate meeting, and Tubbo was working more on some buildings around Snowchester, saying something about prepping things to attack Dream who apparently escaped from prison? Not sure could've been rumoured or could be true? You had no clue honestly. You trusted Ranboo and Tubbo to protect you. The crackling of a few pine branches caused you to lift your eyes from the icy water below to turn your head. Walking out of the bushes were three men and one woman, pushing their way through the branches decorated with freshly fallen snow. One of the men was your crown-wearing platonic husband, although dressed up in an outfit you had never seen before, although not too far off from his normal get-up. Ranboo had a long black cape with golden edges and a high collar, held up together by a golden chain. His vest was now a deep royal purple with an eye of ender pin clasped on his tie, and his pants were half purple half black with golden designs sewn in. Beside him was a short female with shoulder-length pink hair and nicely done dark purple and black makeup. Her outfit consisted of a thick and warm lavender sweater with dark purple pants. On her hip was an enchanted netherite sword with a diamond-encrusted handle. You were quick to recognize her as Niki Nihachu, the baker who had lived in L'Manberg, but you hadn't heard much of her since the Pogtopia war. Off to the side, was a man you recognized easily as you had only seen him a few days ago when Ranboo invited him to see Michael, Philza Minecraft. His outfit wasn't too different from what he used to wear when he was a resident in the country, except for the black and gold cape and a black mask covering the bottom of his face. Then... The sight of the final male was the one to make you visibly react. A tall and buff male with a golden encrusted netherite

chest plate and a velvet red cape with gold accents as well. There was a rather majestic crown on top of his long braided pink hair and his dark eyes were narrowed behind a set of cracked glasses... His gaze pointing directly at you. Technoblade. Giving a shaky gasp, you stood up from your spot on the edge of the dock and turned to face the visitors. "Where's Tubbo," Techno growled softly, watching as you visibly trembled under his gaze. "Techno, mate. You're scarin' the hell outta her." Phil put his hand on his middle son's shoulder before stepping in front of him, blocking him from your gaze. "Hey, (Y/n), can you tell us where Tubbo is? We just have to ask him some things." "I'm here." An almost unfamiliar voice came from beside you before a hand was placed on your shoulder. When you looked over, you saw the goat hybrid with the coldest look you had seen him wear yet. "(Y/n), please, head into the mansion." Without another glance at the piglin hybrid, you quickly scurried towards the wooden mansion, faintly hearing the worried buzzing noises of your enderman husband in the distance before you slammed the large door shut. You almost ran towards your's or Michael's room in the basement, but then realized if any of them saw you heading down there, Michael's safety could be compromised. So, you quietly sat down in the living room and curled up on the couch, trying to keep your breathing stable as you fought to keep your mind off of the fact that the man who had almost killed you was standing a few feet outside the door of your home. You pinched your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to simulate the hugs you would usually receive from your platonic husbands after a nightmare or a panic attack. ".../n)." "../n)!" "...(Y/n)!" With a terrified gasp, you flung your arms above your head to shield yourself from any oncoming attacker but only felt a gentle touch on your knee. It took a few seconds to muster up your courage, but you slowly brought your arms down and opened your eyes to come face to face with Tubbo, who immediately sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. After an hour or so with your face buried into Tubbo's shoulder, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, causing you to look up and see Ranboo burying his face into your hair, "I'm so sorry... So sorry... I didn't think they would come to Snowchester..." You murmured a small, "it's okay," to him as you sat up a bit to return the hug for a few moments. Tubbo got up, murmuring something about going to get you a snack and a glass of water, knowing you must've been hungry or thirsty from panicking. After a few moments, Ranboo let go of you and briefly explained that Phil had given him some potions to help Michael adapt to the overworld, and he needed to give them to him. He rested his forehead against yours affectionately for a few seconds before turning towards the bookshelf and walking down the set of hidden stairs after opening the secret door. Once he shut it, you shuddered and rubbed your arms to get rid of the cold chill that had suddenly washed over you. Frowning slightly, you looked around for the source of the sudden cold, only to freeze as you saw the door cracked open, allowing the snow and cold wind to slip in. Ranboo wouldn't have left the door open... "Sorry kid." A deep and growly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin around and come face to face with Technoblade. The tall tusked male watched your expression go from confusion to horror in less than seconds, "It's nothing personal. Really. I just got a favour to pay off." A scream of terror escaped your lips before everything went black. "Hey, Michael!" Ranboo crouched down to greet the small zombie piglin child as he held a few potions of varying colours in his long arms, he set them and a thermos filled with a hot drink down on the table. "I got some new drinks for you to try today! Philza made them a little extra sweeter than last time." The small child squealed and made small tippy tap noises with his

hooves against the quartz flooring before he sat on the chair. He watched as his tall father sorted through the bottles carefully before uncorking one of the light red ones. Before he could pick up the small pipette, there was an almost unearthly shriek that came from the top of the stairs. "(Y/n)!" Ranboo screamed, unintentionally startling Michael, but that wasn't his main concern as he sprinted out the door then teleporting up the stairs and pushing the bookshelf door with his sword drawn and gleaming with enchantments. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tubbo dash out of the kitchen with his axe drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. Glancing around, the only thing the two men spotted was moonlight and snow spilling through the open door. Tubbo ran out without a second thought and screamed your name at the top of his lungs as he spun around, searching for any sort of sign that would give away your location. Ranboo decided to start looking around the mansion, even though part of him grasped that you wouldn't have screamed without reason. "She's gone..." Tubbo whispered, standing in the doorway, the moonlight creating a dark shadow over his wide eyes. "Footprints are leading to and away from the house, but they disappear on the docks..." Ranboo stayed still, a violent growling noise bubbling up in his throat before escaping past his lips as both his eyes turned purple. He threw his head back and took a breath to scream all his anger out, but froze upon hearing sad whimpering. He turned his head and saw Michael standing at the top of the hidden stairs, whimpering and shaking quite violently. There was part of Ranboo that refused to move, but his brain seemed to flick onto autopilot as he walked over to the child and picked him up. "Sorry... Michael... Something happened..." "Mama?" "...Mama... Won't be home for a while..." "Wake up!" A voice growled before something sharply came in contact with your cheek, shaking you awake. Your eyes shot open and came into contact with... A smiley face? "Aha... Sleeping Beauty graces us with her gaze. It's about damn time." A harsh grip landed on your jaw, making you realize there was a dull throbbing pain in your head. "Huh... Dre... Dream..?" You whispered, barely recognizing the white mask that helped destroy your home and turn it into nothing but a crater. "W-What?" His mask was lifted up enough to the point where you could see his mouth curved up into a sadistic smile. "You, my darling pawn, are just the piece I needed to make life easier for me... I just need to raise the stakes enough for them to be... Well... Stakes. I'm sure you understand." You went to move your hand to slap the gloved hand away from your face, only to give a small whine of pain as you felt a tight pinching on your wrists, making you realize that they were shackled together and likely chained to a wall. "What are you talking about you psychop- Ah!" He tightened his grip on your face to the point where you knew there would eventually be dark bruising. "I don't think you're in a position to be calling the king any names, pawn." Screams and shrieks of pain bounced off of the blank stone walls as the two people standing outside of the door put their heads down with their eyes closed. "You still sure he's doing the right thing, George? Are you still sure... He's the good guy in this story?" "You know better than to question him, Nick." "Don't call me that."

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Dream using Nightmare. Life: 2/3 (Y/n) (L/n) suffocated while trying to fend off Dream. Life: 1/3

"He just took two of an innocent woman's three lives. Just to use her as a hostage to make Tubbo hand over the nukes and to force Ranboo to follow his orders... He's a stranger, George. This isn't Dream anymore... Don't be stupid." Sapnap lowered his right arm that he read the messages off of and looked in the direction of his former best friend. The screams of agony were almost haunting as they echoed through Snowchester as silence fell down upon the entire Dream SMP. Shock slipped through the veins of everyone who read the message that appeared on their right wrists. - "I'm gonna kill him..." "I'm going to activate the nukes..." - "Techno... What did you do." "I owed him a favour. What he does after that is none of my business." - "...Isn't that Tubbo and Ranboo's wife?" "Yeah... She was my friend..." - "Tubbo's definitely not happy about this..." - "Ah... Atta girl..." Dream murmured in a mock soothing voice as he gently dragged his knife threateningly along your cheek. "Y'know... You would look better... With a smile." He leaned closer to you, the drawn-on eyes of his mask staring into your dull and tear-filled eyes as a stinging pain came from the corner of your lips. "Sh, sh, Relax... They're just shallow cuts, they won't even leave a scar. I'm not a monster." Time had passed quickly, but also excruciatingly slowly. You had no clue how long you had been down here, or how long you had been dead in between respawns. Dream just didn't seem to be leaving you alone. "Now..." He flipped the switchblade closed and threw it in his pocket before tremours shook the earth below and around you. "What the fUCK?!" He growled deeply before the door slammed open. "How did they even find this place!?" The door was blown off its hinges with a loud bang, causing Dream to duck out of the way of the flying piece of scrap. Light flooded into the room as you shut your eyes tightly, your ears ringing from the explosion. Once your eyes got a little bit adjusted, you opened them and saw five figures in the newly widened doorway. "Let's just say... It was an anonymous tip." "Sapnap?! You dare betray me?!" The black-haired male fell silent as he turned around and walked out, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tallest silhouette in the doorway as he walked by. Once you got completely used to the new light, you began to recognize the figures. Tommy, Tubbo, Foolish, and Ranboo. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo immediately ran forward and started a barrage of attacks on the masked psychopath while Foolish ran over and began to work on the chains binding you to the chair. After getting them off of you, he silently picked you up as you turned your head to look at the blond, brunet and monochrome boys. Dream's mask got knocked off and was thrown across the room as he was pinned below a growling Ranboo, whose skin looked almost purely black from your angle. Tommy was off to the side, rummaging through Dream's equipment, he already got his revenge when Dream was put into prison, this was Ranboo and Tubbo's revenge now.

"̷̛̲̪͝Ỳ̵̧̖͒̉o̸̟̔̆û̶̩̟̍͊'̸̧̺̎̉ṟ̷̰͘ế̴͍̰̎ ̶̤͆̎̒g̶̭̋̇o̸͍̐͑i̸̼̟̾ņ̷͊̈́̈́ĝ̷̰̤̈́ ̵̘̉t̵͖͠ȯ̸͎ ̴͎̐̈́r̸̰͙̾̑͝e̸͚͌͑g̴̛̗̦͑ř̷̳̳̱e̵̲̿̕ṫ̶̨͓͗ ̷̢͊E̷̬̪͒͊͂V̷̟̒͝Ë̸̜R̷͐̄̏ͅ ̶̲̟̤͗͋t̴̝̎o̵̖̐ư̴̞̾̇c̶̡̙̐h̵̹̜̣̒͂̂į̴̙̤͠n̴̤̼̻̅̚ǧ̵̹̙̌͜ ̵̥̞̏m̶̱̳̦͗̌y̴̱̮͒̒̄ ̶̮̈͑͆f̸͉̽̄à̵̹͠m̵͕̓̅͋í̸͇̩͔̿l̷̰̫̳͗͑y̸̡͌̊́.̶͓̇͝"̸̡͆ ("You're going to regret EVER touching my family.") Ranboo hissed lowly before he and Tubbo began applying weight to the sword pressed against the speedrunner's chest. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you felt a bottle press into your hands, causing you to re-open your eyes to see Foolish trying to hand you a healing potion. You eagerly took a small sip from it, feeling the small slices on your cheeks form back together and the pain from the bruises around your neck vanishing completely.

Dream was slain by Ranboo and Tubbo using Ranord

There was a clattering noise before two sets of footsteps running in your direction. Slowly tilting your head in their direction, you saw Tubbo with dark bags under his eyes and Ranboo with plenty more scars on his cheeks from tears. You were pulled from Foolish's arms and brought down to sitting on Tubbo's and Ranboo's laps, their arms completely wrapped around you. The goat hybrid was nuzzled under your chin while the enderman's face was buried in your hair. "We should have come sooner..." "We shouldn't have even left you alone in the mansion..." "I'm sorry... I should have never left the manor..."

[lilmissbacon]

Miraculous Ladybug Redesigns

So I've taken upon myself to redesign most of the new looks that have come out is season 4 of Miraculous 😅

I had completely accepted how bad this show was and how much a of a dumpster fire season 4 had been thus far but as an artist, Penalteam was the last straw. Also, I've already posted my redesigns for Marc and Nathaniel here.

I also really appreciate the love the comments, reblogs and likes I got for those redesigns. It really helped encourage me to keep on with these. So thank you 💕

Also just to note it here, Juleka's super-outfit is the only really great look to come out of this season but I would've named her Panthera than just Purple Tigress.

Let's Go! I wanna die

Dog Sabrina

She was the one I did right after Marc and Nate because her look was the most atrocious and as much as I don't have any feeling towards her character, I can't let it stand.

I'm never gonna let go of the fact that her final design in show was just her civilian clothes in a different font. Not to mention that UGLY-ass hat with the ears glued on.

So in my redesign I made her hair to be the ears and instead of giving her a literal collar, I gave her a belt to look like one. The miraculous itself is just hidden under the turtleneck.

I gave her 2 little tennis balls instead of one so she can throw them as weapons like Erina from Dingo Doodles' D&D story (if you don't know it, you can see it on YouTube.) I like to think that the balls can magnetize back into her hand like Captain America's shield and if you look closely you can see the palms of Sabrina's gloves are white.

Miss Hound is just a no for me in terms of names. Honestly, Miss Mutt would've been a better name. But overall I decide that Sabrina be renamed "Cavalier," which is a breed of dog that looks strikingly similar to how I ended up designing her.

Ox Ivan

His superhero look was once again, another look that was just fine but I'm upset they made his suit gray when the ox is literally the only hero that's blue. Also he looks like he's wearing a winter coat and the fact that they didn't change his hair despite how distinguishable it is, kinda makes me mad.

I kept the shoulder bits because I thought it was nice but flattened out the rest of his torso. He's already big and bulky, he doesn't need the extra padding.

I actually really like the superpower they gave him but the name Minotaurox is a mouthful. So I decided to rename him "Bullock."

Pig Rose

As cute as her design is in the show, I still had problems.

Mostly her bangs and the tutu. I didn't think a tutu was even really miraculous canon to how the hero costumes work and honestly, it still doesn't feel like so. Plus it was a slightly different shade of pink from the rest of the suit which is irritating. She looked more like she was wearing the miraculous of the lolipop than the pig.

So I 1) made the hoof patterning on her feet to be a dark brown so it looked like actual hooves. 2) Moved the lolipop thing from her chest to a belt buckle and made it look like a pig snout. 3) Changed her bangs to be more flattering and the pigtails to look more like pig ears. 4) Flip the colors on her mask.

Idk what the designers were thinking with Rose or Sabrina that made them choose to put the white on the top half of their masks. It's practically a rule of thumb that you put the darker colors on top because otherwise it looks like cancer. And it does, it makes Sabrina and Rose' eyes look sunken in and like they have cancer.

I mean can you imagine how the Hex Girls would look with their lip colors flipped?

I rest my case.

I did keep the swirls in her arms and legs because the curls are clearly supposed to be in reference to pigs tails. I didn't change her name or power. Pigella is a cute name and while her power isn't spectacular, it can be useful for distractions in battle.

Also I just didn't feel like drawing the ankle bracelet. I'm tired.

Bee Zoe

I hate this character's existence entirely but we'll ignore that for the sake of focusing on the art.

In her canon design, not only were the random black bangs stupid but she doesn't even remotely resemble a bee or wasp. She also has more black then yellow in her suit+hair and looks more like a villain then Queen Banana did. Also hate the shirt/pants color ratio and those dumbass sneakers.

So I cut off her bangs, gave her a thigh-high boot look and the same gloves Chloe had. I also kept the suit the same shade of yellow as Chloe's because the fact that they made Zoe's a warmer shade of yellow is not just such a copout, it actually makes her less distinguishable from the other heroes with gold/yellow.

I did take into consideration that the original designers were clearly trying to give Zoe's stripes a V shape to them since her name is Vesperia. So I kept that when rearranging the stripes in my redesign.

It's a much more simple design which is actually a blessing because it's on par with Queen Bee's and even Ladybug's looks. Her canon design has so much going on that it's a mess.

So I hope you like this

My redesigns will forever be canon in my mind/au because what is canon just sucks and I hope you enjoy this art post.

[jaskierswolf]

The White Wolf (pt. 1/3)

Ship: Geraskier - Established. Rating: T Word Count: 6k in total (this chapter is 2k)

Summary: Following an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Geralt gets cursed into a wolf. Jaskier and Geralt must travel the Continent in search of someone that can help them. (AO3)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, nudity (Jaskier’s clothes don’t change with him).

Part 7: Shifter!Jaskier Verse (Tumblr) - Can be read as a stand alone. 

_________

The cloud of sparkling dust settled on the floor and Geralt was nowhere to be seen. The last Jaskier had seen of his boyfriend, he’d been thrown against the wall, barely able to move his fingers to form Quen in time before his head knocked against the stone. There was no witcher in the room now. Just a pile of bloodstained white fur in the corner of the room.

Jaskier snarled and sniffed the air. He could smell Geralt but something was wrong. Geralt reeked of wet dog. Jaskier growled, low and menacing, at the sorcerer in front of them. The man had been luring children away from their homes in the dead of night using all sorts of sweet treats. Then at night he was pulling their dreams from their minds and using them for fuck knows what. The children were returning to their homes as lifeless ghosts of their former selves, and thus a witcher and his trusted companion had been hired.

“I’m no fool, bard.” The sorcerer spat. “I can sense your magic.

Jaskier let his sharp teeth show as he snarled again. He let his magic loose and there was a sickening crunch of bones. Jaskier’s thick russet fur melted away into long red feathers. He spread his wings as a thick black mane grew along he neck. He roared at the sorcerer and struck both talons across his chest, balancing on the large lion paws of his hind legs. The sorcerer was thrown backwards as dark blood seeped through his clothing. The attack had caught him off guard. Jaskier stalked forward, his front talons clacking on the wooden floor. This human had stolen Jaskier’s mate and they had to pay.

The scent of blood was thick in the air and all he knew was the hunt.

The prey was wounded. It was an easy kill.

He screeched as he prepared to land the final blow but a large snowy white wolf with glowing amber eyes suddenly stood between him and the prey.

Amber eyes.

Jaskier knew those eyes.

Geralt.

He let his magic loose and shifted back into a wolf. There was just something about Geralt being in wolf form that ignited all his pack instincts. He didn’t know whether Geralt was stuck as a wolf or could shift between animals, but Jaskier knew he would match Geralt no matter what.

The thought gave him pause. He wondered whether it was an instinct of his people, lost and long forgotten. Were there ever groups of shifters? Were they still alive? Or was he alone… He’d always felt so alone. Jaskier nudged his head under Geralt’s snout and whined. Geralt huffed and butted Jaskier’s head. Jaskier did his best wolfy grin and then mouthed at Geralt’s nose before rolling over onto his back with a wag of his tail.

Geralt gave a quick bark and then looked pointedly between Jaskier and mage. Jaskier tilted his head, wondering how Geralt still managed to look unimpressed even as a wolf. Jaskier snorted and rolled back onto his paws. He glanced around the room, his clothes were still at the inn. Geralt’s clothes appeared to have disappeared when he was changed into a wolf; lucky bastard. He spotted a long cloak hanging up on the wall and wagged his tail. He leapt up on his hind legs and pulled at the cloak with his teeth. When he was covered nicely by the heavy material he shifted back into his human form with a crack of his bones.

The cloak was thick, grey and woollen. It had a large hood, reminiscent of the cloaks the elves used. He wrapped it round his shoulders and then grinned at Geralt.

“Hello, dearest. I know you’re the White Wolf and all, but isn’t this taking it a bit too far?” He reached out with his hand and Geralt bumped it with his snout. He gave Geralt a quick scratch behind the ears. “Can you shift?”

Geralt tilted his head.

Jaskier frowned and stuck his tongue out as he tried to figure out a way to explain it. It was like trying to explain how to blink or breathe or… just exist. “Umm, ah, think of Roach? Try and feel her hooves, her mane?”

Geralt’s snout scrunch up and he let out a snarl.

“No?”

Geralt shook his head, one ear twitched and Jaskier couldn’t help but coo. Geralt growled at that.

“I’m sorry!” He said, not really sorry at all. “But, my love, you look so cute!”

Another growl.

“Oh stop it. You’re trying to be all scary witcher and it’s not working. You are adorable and I can turn into a dragon so shush.” He bopped Geralt on the nose and gave him another scratch behind the ears. Geralt’s tail began to wag. Geralt looked behind him and snarled, clearly not enjoying the way his body was betraying his feelings. He also looked as if he was about to start chasing his tail. He was baring his teeth, snarling as the tail flicked on the stone floor. Jaskier took pity on him and knelt down so he could cup his wolf’s face in his hands. “Geralt, darling?”

Geralt blinked and looked up at him.

“There you go. The instincts might feel a bit strong at first but we’ll work it out alright?” Jaskier buried in face in Geralt’s fur, his own instincts to shift back into a wolf were almost overwhelming him, but Geralt needed him human. It was easier to explain things to his newly wolf companion when he could use words. It was also nice to be able to snuggle in Geralt’s fur for a change.  “Do you know how to fix this?”

Geralt shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have killed the mage, should I?” Jaskier asked with a sigh.

Another head shake and a whine.

Jaskier kissed Geralt’s head. “In my defence, witcher. I thought he’d killed you!” Geralt licked his face and he grimaced. “Geralt! Oh gods, that went up my nose!”

Geralt wagged his tail and pounced. Jaskier was knocked back onto the ground and Geralt’s tongue was drooling all over his face, which would have been fine if Geralt’s tongue didn’t feel so coarse against his skin. “Oi, no! Get off you big lump!”

Geralt nipped at his ear and sat back down, his tail thumped noisily against the stone floor.

Jaskier sighed and grabbed Geralt’s swords from where they’d clattered on the floor. Jaskier hummed. Geralt’s clothes and medallion had changed with him but his swords had not. At least his magic was consistent. Geralt head-butted his leg and they finally fled the tower together. It felt strange being the one on two feet instead of four but they’d faced worse things in their two years travelling together.

Two years…

Had it really been so long? He’d been with Geralt for two whole years… not mentioning the little blip of his mother’s horrendous return into his life. He shuddered at the memory. Yeah, they’d definitely been through worse together. ___________

As they approached the town Geralt snorted and laid down on the ground, resting his head on his big white paws. Jaskier glanced over his shoulder at the wolf with a scowl before he realised why Geralt had stopped. He grinned and walked back to pet Geralt’s head. Geralt’s tail thumped heavily against the ground as Jaskier gave him a scratch behind the ear. Geralt still looked put out by his tail’s reaction to affection but now seemed resigned to the fact he could no longer mask his happier feelings.

“Well isn’t this a turn of events. I’m normally the one that has to wait outside!” Jaskier announced with a laugh.

Geralt let out a low growl and mouthed at Jaskier’s fingers.

“Ouch! Sharp teeth, Geralt. You’re not exactly a pup, dear heart,” Jaskier chided.

Geralt’s ears flicked and Jaskier was pretty sure the strange snuffling noise was Geralt trying to laugh at him.

“Stay here. I’ll go and get our stuff,” he sighed and looked down at himself. The cloak wasn’t exactly modest and whilst he had very little shame over his body, most humans wouldn’t appreciate him walking around town with his dick out. “Next time we are keeping my clothes in a pack and not back at the inn.”

Geralt barked and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he wagged his tail.

“Yeah yeah, go on, laugh at your poor suffering boyfriend.”

Geralt barked again and jumped up to lick Jaskier’s face, placing both paws on Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier just ruffled Geralt’s fur and kissed his snout.

“I’ll be back soon, love.”

He wrapped the cloak around him in a feeble attempt to cover himself up and trudged back to the inn. He did get some bizarre looks from the villagers but he did his best to ignore them. Had they never seen a bard wearing just a cloak and witcher’s swords before? He scoffed. They were amateurs. He tried to sneak up to their room at the inn but the bloody innkeeper spotted him.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going?”

Jaskier spun around, only just remembering to keep his hands gripped on the cloak to stop it from flying open. He still had Geralt’s swords in their holder in his hand and he held them up for the innkeeper to see. “I’m a friend of the witcher’s. Jaskier? The bard? You might have heard of me?”

“Toss a Coin?” The innkeeper asked and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah, yes. That’s the one,” He sang a couple of lines just to prove his point. “And umm, well. Geralt… Geralt was looking after my lute for me whilst I was… away?”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier winced. It was a terrible story and he was ashamed. “But you see, I really need to get it back.”

“Did the witcher take your clothes too?” The innkeeper asked with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up and it took all his control not to shift back into a mouse. He laughed nervously and tugged the cloak tighter around his chest. “Well, funny you should say that.”

“Those his swords?”

“Yes! Yes they are. I ran into him on the path just outside of town. He’s dealt with your mage problem, but ah. Umm. Spells! He was hit by a spell and it’s really not very pretty so he asked me to collect our… his.. belongings. So I’m just…” He pointed to the stairs and the innkeeper waved his hand. “Thank you ever so much, kind sir. May all the gods praise you!”

“Just go, bard.”

Jaskier gave a quick bow and then flew up the stairs, two steps at at time. Once inside the room he got dressed and quickly gathered up their belongings before heading back out to fetch Roach. The conversation with the stable girl went just as well as the one with the innkeeper and Jaskier barely remembered the story he’d woven only a few minutes before, but he was gone and heading back towards the forest before anyone else could question him.

He didn’t ride Roach but it was easier with her carrying the bags and his lute. Once he was out of sight from the townsfolk he considered shifting back into a wolf. Whatever the mage had hit Geralt with was driving him crazy, but they still needed to find a solution to Geralt’s wolf problem so regretfully he remained on two feet. He huffed and dragged his feet as they headed back to where he’d left Geralt. How did people cope with being in one form all the time? It was so boring!

___________

Next

[chandelier-s-notebook]

I'm using @crowfootwrites' June List Day 7: Gold

Oops. We late. Anyways. Here is some fluff.

The types of text show the different languages being spoken Player Piglin

Also reminder that SBI + Bee Duo are all on good terms within my canon

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist for A Familial Unit, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

Taglist: @sleepysnails

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

Tommy held Michael’s hand as they traversed the Nether between Snowchester and the Arctic Commune.

“You’re holding me too tight.”

Tommy startled a little. “Sorry.” He loosened his grip. “Just don’t want you running off on me. Papa and Dada aren’t really fond of you leaving the house. But what’s a little adventure with your favourite uncle?”

“Littleblade!”

Tommy smiled.

Michael noticed it was a little strained. He squeezed Tommy’s hand the way Tommy was holding his before.

Tommy looked to their conjoined hands and swung them a little.

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost.”

Michael squeezed Tommy’s hand again and started to run forward down the cobblestone path.

Tommy ran along to keep up with the little piglin. Tommy slowed then when they reached the obsidian bridge. “Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to meet Technoblade.”

“We are?”

Tommy tugged Michael and they stepped through the portal.

Michael was a vibrating ball of energy the whole walk from the portal to the cottage in the field. He wanted to run all the way there but Tommy was walking slowly; like he was familiarizing himself with the snow.

Tommy helped Michael jump the fence.

“But the gate?”

“But jumping over the fence. Come on, Techno doesn’t mind. Everybody jumps the fence.”

Tommy brought Michael to Techno’s front door. He hung back and let Michael knock on the door. After a minute or two Tommy started banging it.

There was movement from inside. The door swung open. “Just wal—“

“Gold.”

Techno looked down. He blinked. He hadn’t seen the little piglin. “What’s this?”

“My nephew.”

“Isn’t Fundy Wilbur’s son?”

“Tubbo.”

“Phil didn’t adopt Tubbo.”

“He didn’t adopt you either and you’re my brother.”

“No I’m not.”

“Big brother Technoblade.”

“Stop.”

“Big Uncle Technoblade.”

Techno sent the little piglin a betrayed look. “Not you too piglet. Tommy’s corrupted you.”

“Big Uncle Technoblade.”

“You if start calling me little uncle I will disown you kid.”

Techno snorted.

“Best Uncle Tommy.”

Techno smiled at the two of them. “And you didn’t just barge in because?”

“Michael felt bad about jumping the fence. Don’t think he could have taken just walking in.”

“Michael?”

“Gold.”

“Michael.”

“What? Gold.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and pushed passed Techno. “If he gets hurt Tubbo and Ranboo are gonna kill me. I was supposed to stay in Snowchester.”

“Gremlin. Can’t even do something for his friends.”

“I am! I’m babysitting.”

Techno ushered Michael into the house. “Lemme get you some gold.”

“Okay. What’s that?”

“Steve. Don’t hit him. He’s nice for cuddles.”

Michael looked to Tommy for permission. Tommy nodded. Michael grabbed his hand and pulled Tommy down to flomf into Steve’s fur. Michael curled into Tommy’s arms, leaned against the softness that was Steve’s coat.

“SoftyInnit.”

“Shut up man!”

Michael held out a hoof to Techno. “Sounder. Cuddle. Gold.”

“No.”

“Gold?” Michael asked hopefully. He could settle for some gold.

“Come on Blade!”

“I’m not curling up on the floor.”

“Come on Blade. Join us.”

“One of us!”

“One of us!”

“One of us!”

“One of us!”

“Stop.”

“No. Cuddle.”

Michael buried his hand in Tommy’s hair. “Gold,” he said happily.

“Look at him. The least you could do is give him some actual gold.”

“I think he likes your hair.”

“Well yeah. But I know where I stand. Actual gold is better.”

Michael felt Tommy’s tone dip. “Best Uncle Tommy.”

Tommy headbutted Michael lightly.

“And I hate you.” Techno got down onto the floor, and cuddled his little brother. He wrapped his cape so that it draped around Michael on the other side of Tommy.

“Softnoblade.”

“Shut up. I get enough from chat.”

“You called me SoftyInnit.”

“Fine.”

“Sounder. Cuddle. Gold?”

“You have Tommy’s fur.”

“Littleblade’s fur is nice.”

Laughing once more, Techno headbutted the back of Tommy’s head. “You wanna spar later piglet?”

“Yeah.”

- - -

Techno was flat on his back. Michael straddling his chest, sword held above his head triumphantly.

“Take his crown!”

Michael sent Tommy a distressed look.

“Do it. He won’t mind. You’ll give it back like you gave back Papa’s crown right?”

“Yeah.”

“Take it.”

“Go on piglet. You won.”

Michael smiles and takes Techno’s crown. Techno lurches towards Tommy for a second before calming himself. Michael sitting on his chest helps.

“Oh I see how it is.”

“Shut up. I have it under control.”

Tommy, toying with death maybe apparently, picks Michael off of Techno. He brings the piglin into his arms. Michael puts his hands back in Tommy’s hair.

“You have gold?”

“Gold,” Michal said with a mischievous smile.

“You are spoiled.”

“Techno! Have you seen Tommy? If he’s not here I’m killing him next time I see him!” Ranboo yells as he’s climbing down the ladder to the training room.

“They’re right here.”

“Hi Boo-boy.”

“Hi Papa.”

“Did you have fun with Techno?”

“Yep!”

“Yes Papa.”

“Good. I’m going to kill your uncle.”

“Big Uncle Technoblade let me win.”

Ranboo blanched. “It that ‘Technoblade’ in piglin?”

“Yes.” Techno got up off the floor.

“I— no offense Michael, but I think my not being able to beat Techno has nothing to do with me being able hurt Tommy.”

“What are you talking about Ranboo? Michael is a bad man. If he can’t then you can’t.”

“Tommy I will strangle you.”

“Michael’s fine.”

“Hand him over.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m trapped.”

Michael‘s hooves jumped out of Tommy’s hair.

“You little shit.”

”You love me.”

Tommy headbutted Michael. “I do. Give Technoblade is crown back, we should get you home.”

“Okay.”

Tommy picks the crown off his head and walks to the ladder. He gives Techno is crown back, but takes Ranboo’s and places that one on Michael head.

“Gold.”

“Gold.”

[penwieldingdreamer]

Dante's Prayer - Chapter 1

Thank you all for your likes and reblogs. I'm really happy you liked it. Now on with the next part. Let me know what you think about it and if you want to be tagged. As always thank you @fortheloveoffanfic for being my beta.

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of sex, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence

Words: 1304

Chapter 1

Arrow House, Warwickshire, 1924

"Tommy, you need to consider remarrying." Aunt Polly told him, bouncing Charlie on her knee as she watched her nephew pace behind his desk. "There have been rumors goin' round."

Taking a deep breath, the leader of the Peaky Blinders turned to the older woman. "What would you have me do, Poll, ey? Take the next best woman that's out on the streets?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Tommy. You need someone with good connections and money." she told him, hoisting the boy into her arms and coming to stand next to Tommy. “She has to accept that you’ve been married before, that there’s a child. Even though we’re rich now, doesn’t mean that all women of the world will fall over for Thomas Shelby.”

Snorting, the second eldest Shelby grinned at his aunt, although the smile wouldn’t reach his eyes. Not since Grace had been shot because of him. “As you just so nicely reminded us, we don’ need the fuckin’ money, the Shelby’s are already fuckin’ rich. What are you gonna do? Arrange a marriage, just like John and Esme?”

“Stop the cursin’, will you. There’s a small child here.” Shrugging her shoulders, Polly regarded him with a stern look he just knew all too well. “I talked to Johnny Dogs, he knows a family in Ireland. Lots of connections, loads of old money.”

“No, Poll.” he shook his head, opening the silver case to grab another cigarette, hoping to calm his nerves from the nagging of his aunt. “I’m not goin’ ta bring anyone new into this family. There’s enough people to take care of as it is. Who’s to say that family doesn’t have ties to our enemies?”

Smoothing out Charlie’s dark blond hair, Polly Grace shook her head. “Stubborn as a mule, that one.” she muttered to the boy, the corners of her lips moving up into a smile as she heard the two-year old laugh at her. “Even John wasn’t bitchin’ so much. I know why you won’t do it, Thomas, but you need to see reason. Your boy needs a mother and you, you need someone to warm that heart of yours, even if ye don’ believe me. Be ready in a week, Johnny will take you to see your future wife.”

Grunting, Thomas Shelby watched his aunt leave the study, his son perched on her hip. Grace had only been gone a few weeks - or had it really been months? - and yet his family was forcing him to marry some spoiled high society girl, whose only problem would be the perfect temperature of her tea. Letting out a defeated sigh, the leader of the Peaky Blinders sank into the plush sofa Polly had occupied minutes before and looked at the portrait of his late wife. “What am I goin’ to do without you, eh? You shouldna have been involved in my fuckin’ mess, Grace."

Of course there was no answer from her, the smile on her lips stayed forever frozen. Dropping his head into his hands, he breathed in the air filled with tobacco and whiskey, trying to keep every detail of his love in his heart, never to forget her.

Dublin, Ireland 1924

"Edward, when will you tell our daughter that it's not ladylike to run around with a horse like that?" Helene McCann, Duchess of Leinster and Baroness of Kildare, admonished her husband entering the large sunroom of their country home Castletown House.

Sitting at the table with his other two daughters Amalie and Louise, he read the newspaper and only hummed. "What would you have me do, hm? Send her to her rooms and lock the doors?" Andrew, Duke of Leinster folded the papers and leaned back to watch his wife with an amused smile on his lips. "She is just as free spirited as you, my darling."

"Oh no, I'm definitely blaming you on that one. Saoirse has done everything to avoid being a proper lady, no thanks to you, love." she countered, sipping her tea and giving her husband an angry look. “You know that Mr. Shelby will arrive today and I want her to be presentable.”

Shaking his head, Andrew grabbed his pipe and lit the tobacco. "Saoirse is just like your mother's cousin has been. She was a free spirit, too, a friend of nature and I know you often went to visit her. I do believe Mister Shelby will be very lucky to marry her and you know that as well."

Sighing, the mother of three leaned back in her seat and turned her gaze on the gardens, hoping that her youngest daughter would at least be fine while out there riding through the forest behind their home.

Hooves beat against the cold ground, harsh pants of the horse sounded in the silence of the woods as it raced through the trees, nostrils flared and kept its attention on the sounds around him.

“Socair.” Saoirse spoke softly, guiding her stallion through the thick undergrowth. “Calm, my love.”

Since her mother had told her about the arranged marriage, the youngest of three daughters left to find solace with her animals. Her dappled grey White Knight brought her to the flower field she had found a few months earlier. “Good boy, we’re going to stay here and enjoy the sun before those men come.”

With a snort, the stallion stopped and Saoirse jumped from the saddle, taking the bridle off of him. She took a deep breath and brushed her hand over the speckled coat of the horse. “I can’t believe father agreed to that marriage mother arranged.”

There had never been time in her life that she wished more than ever to not be a descendant from royalty than now. Arrangements had been made with Thomas Shelby, leader of a gang in Birmingham. Her mother had told Saoirse that in a few months she'd be his wife and make sure that their connections would help him further his business and standing in politics.

Leaning against his neck, the young woman closed her eyes. "What should I do, huh? I don't want to be a wife being kept in a house as a broodmare. I just, I want freedom."

Both, rider and horse snapped to attention when a twig broke behind them in the woods. "Who's there?" she called, her eyes flitting through the green leaves of the trees.

"It's just I, princess." the man reasoned, his accent thick as he spoke. Moving through the underbrush, Saoirse could see the kind eyes of Johnny Dogs he only reserved for her. "I knew I might find ye out 'ere."

Smiling, she moved in for a tight hug. "Oh, how I missed you, Johnny. It has been boring ever since you left."

"Oh I know," the Irish mused with a smile. "I bet yer mum has had you reciting poetry and embroidery."

Rolling her eyes, Saoirse lightly hit his shoulder. "Don't remind me. I'm not as much the lady she wants me to be. But now, why are you here? Don't tell me he's here already."

"I'm afraid he's 'ere." Johnny sighed, seeing the defeated look darken her eyes. He had known her since she was a little girl, having worked for the Duke in his stables and taught her everything about horses and riding that he knew. "Please Saoirse, it's not as bad as ye make it out to be."

Exasperated, she turned away from her friend, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm losing my freedom to be a gangster's wife so he can further his business while I'll have to sit in his manor and play the lady of the house, greeting guests and giving him children to make him seem good."

"Just give Thomas a chance, once in a while people will surprise you." Johnny tried to reason with her.

tagging:

@fortheloveoffanfic @fics-not-tragedies

[lethesomething]

The ghost and the witch

I am still dealing with the emotional gut punch that is the ending of Ghost of Tsushima, so have a very indulgent… fluff piece? My proofreaders have told me I can’t call it a comfort fic, so let’s go with ‘soft fic with canon levels of angst’ instead.

Tags: Jin Sakai x Reader, fluff, soft, comfort (?), angst, ridiculously poetic descriptions of nature, ludicrous levels of symbolism, so much pining

You scoop the dry green dust into the pouch, carefully checking the weight on a tiny brass scale. With a small wooden spoon, you stir the dust into the clay powder and dried grass already present, checking the contents of the pouch one final time before closing it up and using a few quick stitches to secure it. 

"There." You add the pouch to the pile and hold out the order. "One bag of stomach salts for the Fushikawa boy, and five wound ointments. That should keep you going for a while longer."

The Ghost, sitting in seiza on the opposite side of the table, bows his head as he takes them.

"Thank you."

He looks tired, sweat and mud mixing with caked blood on his brow. You're fairly sure it's not his, but that knowledge does not soothe you as much as you'd like. There are hard lines in that face, drawn by sacrifice and pain, etched in stubbornness and unwavering, never-ending pursuit.

"It would be better if you rested, lord Sakai."

He looks up. His eyes are clear and focused, crisp as the winds blowing up the northern cliffs of the island.

"Please, call me Jin."

"My apologies," you say, "force of habit."

"I don't recall you ever calling me 'lord' when we were young," he grumbles.

"That's because you wanted it too much back then," you grin. "But either way. Jin. Please take a rest. Your body cannot keep this up, no matter how tight your resolve is. You need actual sleep. You can stay the night if you want. You'll be safe here."

His gaze drops down and his brow knots, as if he's thinking over a new concept, something so foreign to him that it leads to confusion. Then he gets up. "The boy."

You're not about to argue. He's the most stubborn man you've ever met. With a sigh you follow him to the door of your house. "Then come back."

His retreating form stops briefly. The wind twirls leaves around his silhouette, outlined against the moss-covered trees. It's late in the afternoon, and light comes down the canopy like droplets, skittering from branch to branch until it falls to the ground in ever smaller pools. Shadows rule here, hiding his face, obscuring even the horse trotting to his hand. "I'll see what I can do," he says, and then he's off.

 ----

 Rain beats like hooves on the roof, mercifully muffled by the thick layers of thatch and greenery that shield your abode from prying eyes. Still, for a short moment your heart stops when you hear the screen door softly slide open, and just as quickly, slide shut. He stands there, slick with rain and glowing faintly orange in the light coming from the fire. "Excuse my interruption," he says.

You shake your head. "Welcome back." Embers fall off a log in the fire, popping and crackling. The rain drums above you. "Have you eaten?"

"A little," he mumbles, too stubborn to admit to hunger, but not composed enough to keep his eyes from wandering over the shelves for supplies you may have.

Movement comes to you in a sudden rush. "Sit down, I have some millet porridge leftover."

"You don't have to-"

You wave away his concern. "And I have water in the hearth, I'll draw you a bath."

"That's really not necessary," he starts saying, but he stops when you turn and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yes it is."

For a long moment he halts, as if to take stock of the dirt, the sweat, the blood, the horse hair dampened by the rain but not washed away fully. He watches the fire, breathes in the smell of herbs that fills the very air inside this house and looks towards you, bustling over a pot of warm food. He nods. "Alright," he concedes, and gets comfortable on the floor. "Thank you."

 ---

 Steam rises, curling and dancing in intricate patterns toward the rafters. Jin rests his back against bamboo planks and rolls his neck. The tub is just big enough to submerge his lower half in warm, fragrant water. Whatever it is you’ve put in there smells nice. Calming. He takes a cloth and rinses it, before he wipes it on his face and shoulders, rubbing away what feels like years of grime and fatigue.

You’re tending to the fire, your form similar, but somehow more graceful than what it was. Your hair is longer, the skin on your hands rougher, but the years have not taken much else from you. Certainly the bright flame behind those eyes is still present, unrelenting and unyielding in the face of everything. 

You look up. “Did you want me to do your back?”

He blinks. “Uhhh.”

And then you smile, and that hasn’t changed either. Your lips curl up in a way that could be read as polite or mischievous, depending on the outlook. He’s always been fond of it. 

“Please,” he says. 

-- -

You sit on a stool by the bath and knead the heated skin on his shoulders between your fingers, the pads of your thumbs running small circles on his neck. His back is a patchwork of colours, from dark purple bruises to blues and reds and yellows.

You try to avoid the more painful looking blotches while you make your way down, but he does not protest at your touch. He’s silent, save for an occasional sigh and a roll of the neck. 

He’s grown, you notice. There is a dignity and a will to him that he lacked when he was younger. You’re well aware of what he’s doing, the lives he chooses to take, and those he chooses to save. You know of the enemies he’s made. Part of you is very proud of him. Another fears for his wellbeing at every turn. The path he’s chosen is not an easy one to walk. 

“How long has it been since you last washed your hair,” you ask into the silence that sits on top of the rumbles of fire and the splash of water. 

“I’m not letting you do that,” he says lowly. 

“Can I at least pick out the leaves?”

He chuckles. “If that’s what you want.” He leans back against the side of the tub and lets his head fall towards your knees. “Next you’ll ask me if you can shave me as well.”

“Would you let me,” you say, tugging at the cord that holds his bun together. 

He grins. “I just might.”

He closes his eyes and a curtain of black falls across your lap. You take a silver comb, one of your few treasures, and start gently tugging at the knots, unraveling the work of the sea and the wind. 

--- 

Jin leans back and closes his eyes. Your comb runs across his scalp in languid, repeating motions, like waves lapping at a beach. He times his breathing to their rhythm and sits there, relishing in the soft intimacy of your hands. 

There is comfort in the motions of your fingers running across his head. The smell of camellia’s is faint but nostalgic as you comb out the strands and oil them. It’s been a long time since he felt this warm, this content.

“Can I ask you something,” he says. 

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you leave?”

Your hands pause for a  second, but do not falter. Your fingers continue their gentle motion,  starting at the scalp and gliding down to part the hair, followed by the comb. 

“I suppose they never told you.” He feels a weight to those words, but can’t quite make it out. 

“I have always wondered,” he says. “I didn’t really understand what happened. One day you were just gone.”

“Jin.”

The weight shifts. There is a pause, a silence in which your fingers keep moving and steam fills the void between the two of you. The rain outside has stopped, he notices, and then you take a breath. 

“We were close,” you say. “Close enough for people to notice.” Your voice gains a raspy edge, as if it is difficult to speak. “I was not good enough. Not for you.”

“That’s-”

But you continue before he can form the sentence. “It was decided that it would be best that I move north, so as not to needlessly distract you from your studies.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“That was, perhaps, for the best,” you say softly, and your fingers start gathering his hair. “You were not in a position to do anything about it.” You collect the strands in the palm of one hand, smoothing up any stragglers with the other. 

“The last I heard was that you were to marry one of clan Terushima’s retainers, but you didn’t.”

“I did not,” you hum behind him, as you coil his hair and tie it with a thin piece of string. “I’m sure he was nice enough, but I was never going to be some random man’s wife. I decided on a different path.”

You tap his shoulder and Jin sits up, takes in the herbs drying from the ceiling, the shelves of jars and powders. The pebbles, the statues, the trinkets. “You did,” he says, and he watches as you wipe down the comb and carefully fold it in embroidered silk, a piece of an old kimono he vaguely remembers, and store it in a box on the shelves. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks. 

You shake your head and carefully put away the oil. You rinse your hands in a bowl of water and dry them thoroughly. You set your shoulders before turning to him. “No path is easy to walk, Jin. Especially if you follow what you feel is right,” you say, finally. “Some roads are smoother than others, but we all crash into the walls and thorns confining us eventually. Whether you pull back from the edge or push through is up to you. We all do what we must.”

“We do,” Jin says quietly. His eyes feel heavy now. The fragrant water hanging thick in the air seems to call out, beckoning his senses deeper into the mist. When he looks up again, you are standing by his side, a towel in your hands. 

“And you must really rest, so get out of there while I pick up some more firewood in the shed.”

--- 

The birdsong of early morning filters through the blankets of vegetation that swaddle your house. The light will take a little longer to get here, traveling all the way from the top of the forest canopy like honey oozing off a spoon. 

You get up from a nest of fabric and straighten your clothes, combing your hair with a wooden pick before tying it back.

The Ghost lies on a mat in the corner, chest slowly rising and falling.

You poke the dying embers in the fire, sparking them back to life. There are many things to do: clothes to darn, balms to brew, but for now you are content to sit here and listen to soft breaths as you watch the sparks rekindle, adding branches to a fire that is sure to burn you if you continue to let it grow.

---

Jin Sakai adjusts the strap of his glove, tightening it. There is a dull ache in his chest that he didn’t notice before today. It has come to the foreground now that many of his other stings and pains have found relief. 

His breath is deeper, his head is clear. The deep, gnawing exhaustion that turned his every movement into a deliberate act, a decision to go on despite the waves crashing down, is shallow now. It tugs at his feet like mud, enough to annoy, but not to trip him, certainly not enough to stop him.  

You’re leaning against the door style, arms folded. Your lips are curled, smiling, but your eyes are not. 

He sighs. The sun dapples you with blossoms of light, crowns you in golden glory. Slowly, his hand reaches up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw. 

You blink rapidly up at him. “Jin?”

A sudden gust of wind whirls around you, tugging pieces of thatch off the roof and blowing strands of hair into your face, obscuring your vision.

He leans in and softly, briefly, places his lips on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

anyway I need to go to bed but I have too much energy so I am channeling it into headcanons. here u go species headcanons for Everyone on the Dream smp with explanations because I’ve put a TON of thought into this. They’re probably like half contradicted by canon but fuck it My City Now.

Dream- A (juvenile) stage of being a god. He, DreamXD, and Drista have become known as “dreamons” but that’s technically a separate species, all spawned from them. He's not really focused on being worshipped in his own right, preferring power in the mortal realm, though he’s not averse to pretending to be his brother (the god worshipped by Church Prime) or his sister (a minor goddess of death worshipped by many hidden cults) if it can help him get power. He’s got pure white skin everywhere except his face (which is pale but human-like), black blood, entirely green eyes, pointed ears, fangs, claws, and digitigrade legs ending in hoof-like claws.

George- A human, the only human on the whole server. Humans are pretty rare, vastly outnumbered by hybrids but outnumbering any other species, and “pure” humans (what we'd consider to be a completely normal appearing human) are all but nonexistent. For example, George has eyes with dark sclera and white irises.

Sapnap- A blaze hybrid. He’s got a few rods surrounding him and his eyes blaze with fire. It’s usually just warm but not hot enough to hurt but if he's agitated or upset it can easily burn hot enough to set things ablaze.

Callahan- A reindeer hybrid. He’s got antlers, reindeer ears, fur around his arms, and hooves.

Awesamdude- A creeper hybrid. He's tauric, with four insect like legs. His skin and is green and mottled and has a texture similar to leaves. His eyes are pitch black. He has a tendency to make hissing sounds when stressed, though he can’t explode like a full blooded creeper.

Alyssa- A mouse hybrid, with large mouse ears and a long tail. This definitely isn’t an in joke for the thousands of hours I spent browsing TVTropes as a child and the “what happened to the mouse” tROPE SHUT UP.

Ponk- A demon hybrid, with pointed ears, slit pupils, a small spaded tail, and small horns.

BadBoyHalo- A full blooded demon, with pointed ears, a tall stature, pitch black skin and hair, fangs, claws, hooves, a long spaded tail, long horns, and small bat like wings. He’s rather self conscious about how intimidating he looks. He's also a lich (with Skeppy as his phylactery) which is why he has pure white eyes (a trait the undead share).

TommyInnit- An absolute mess, genetic wise, since I’m taking Tommy's joke about being born in a lab and running with it. He's mostly angel, and was basically cloned from Phil's DNA (from a feather that fell off his wings that somehow someone got a hold of) but had a bunch of other hybrid and human DNA mixed in to make him somewhat stable enough to actually survive gestation. He has very small, dark wings that are useful for balance and little else, fangs, claws, and pointed ears. His bones are very light, making him fragile but a lot more dexterous. His blood is slightly off a human's, being slightly pinkish. His freckles, wings, blood, and eyes glow slightly and are patterned like the night sky. Technically undead as of his resurrection, and maintains the many injuries of his death permanently (bruises stay and don’t heal but don’t worsen, broken limbs can be moved at unnatural angles, ect.), pale, corpse like skin, and one of his eyes turned pure white.

Tubbo- A ram hybrid, with small curved ram horns, horizontal pupils, ram ears, a tail, and hooves. Nice and simple after the absolute mess that was Tommy.

Fundy- A limited shapeshifter, able to change his species, though he prefers to be in a fox-like form. He inherited this from Sally, who had similar abilities, though with more strength. He's always got certain features he inherited from each parent that he can’t change though- wings, pale skin, and ice-like freckles from Wilbur, and salmon scales coating his wings and cheeks, and ginger-and-white hair from Sally.

Punz- A dragon hybrid, with dark horns, dark sclera and slit pupils, wings just large enough for limited flight, a strong tail, fangs, claws, and blue scales coating his cheeks, wings, tail, arms, and legs. Has a natural inclination to sleep in a pile of his wealth he only holds off on when he feels it’s at risk of being stolen (which, since this is the Dream SMP, is almost constantly).

Purpled- An enderman hybrid, with small horns, pointed ears, purple blood, and ender particles surrounding him. Parts of his arms and legs are covered in leathery, pure black skin.

Wilbur- Half angel, half fucking refrigerator because cc!Wilbur hates us (affectionate). His skin is unnaturally, icy pale, and his blood is an icy blue. His freckles are the colour of ice reflecting. He's got wings from his father, large enough to glide, but they’re pale coloured and slightly transparent. He has fangs claws, and pointy ears. His blood, wings, and eyes glow slightly and are patterned like the night sky. As Ghostbur, he’s got the injuries of his death apparent at all times, though they don’t hinder him or cause him pain, corpse like skin, pure white eyes, and is permanently transparent.

JSchlatt- A ram hybrid. He’s got large ram horns, dark sclera and horizontal pupils, a ram tail, fur around his arms, and hooves.

Skeppy- A construct made to be Bad's phylactery. He's fully made of diamond, and appears as a moving human statue (though entirely made out of diamond), though he has limited shape shifting ability to change his “hair” and “clothes”, though he has to remain the same mass. He has some small red detailing on him out of redstone (which was used partially in his contruction). The egg flipped the red and teal in his colour scheme. Also he's smalllllllllllll.

Eret- Part ghost, due to being descended from Herobrine. She has pure white eyes, pointy ears, and under stress he becomes partially transparent. They tend to hide their nonhuman features (ears under hair or hats and eyes under sunglassses) and are often mistaken for human.

Jack Manifold- Started as a wolf hybrid, with large wolf ears and a tail. After dying, he came back from hell as a hellhound with red and blue “flames” coming from his eyes, ears, and replacing his missing tail he lost in one of his deaths with two made of this fire. The fire is chillingly cold to the touch, and not warm. His eyes are also monocolour, though in heterochromatic red and blue instead of the usual pure white found in undead.

Niki- A moth hybrid, with antennae, monocolour amber eyes, fluffy wings, and more fluff around her neck, wrists, and torso. These and her hair are patterned gold and black, though as of now she’s dyed them all pink. Idk I just feel like moths fit her for some reason.

Quackity- A duck hybrid, with golden wings and webbed hands and feet. He’s also a shapeshifter of sorts, however instead of shifting into different forms he shifts into different beings, from alternate realities that never came to be. These can be used to shift into near identical copies of those around him, to impersonate them, or to shift into alternate versions of people (like Mexican Dream to Dream). These aren’t Quackity, though, and as such they have their own pool of canon lives, and while he has lots of influence over them they can still act autonomously.

Karl Jacobs- An inter dimensional being made of time itself. While his current form is mostly human, he has technicolour rainbow blood, freckles, and patches on his skin, along with clock-shaped pupils that change with the time. His “natural” form is a vaguely humanoid mess of ever shifting colour.

HBomb- I didn’t know what to do with him at first- he was a cow hybrid in my pfp set- but I just think the idea of him being a chill cat hybrid who turns full nyaa whenever he’s in a maid dress to be funny so he’s a cat hybrid now. With dyed-white cat ears and a dyed-white cat tail.

Technoblade- A piglin hybrid primarily, but he’s definitely got some weird traces of other species. He’s got tusks, pink hair, pink pig ears, a pig tail, and hooves, but he’s also got paws from some other animal hybridisation in his blood, and has a tallness that suggests demon blood somewhere down the line. His red eyes aren’t natural, and only occurred after he was sacrificed to be the vessel of the Blood God.

Antfrost- A cat hybrid, with blond and brown fur, a cat tail, paws both on his hands and feet, and cat ears. He’s also got split pupils and blue sclerae (though a different shade to his irises).

Philza- An angel- the creation of a god or goddess to help serve them (Dreamon's would be an example of the angels the Dream's can create, though they’re primarily running wild nowadays.) The creation and servant of one of the gods of death, Kristen, to serve her in the mortal realm. He’s got very large feathered dark wings, pupilless unnaturally bright eyes, pointy ears, fangs, claws, and dark blood the colour of the night sky. His wings, eyes, freckles and blood glow brightly and are patterned like the night sky. Injuries reveal that he's fully inhuman under his skin, appearing to be a void of colour that also glows and is patterned like the night sky. His crows, who are messengers from the afterlife, have this same pattern on their feathers.

Conner- I don’t know much about him tbh but. He’s just a hedgehog hybrid. I mean he’s joked enough about canonically being the kid of Sonic and Elise. He’s got blue hedgehog ears and a tail, and blue spines mixed in with his dark hair.

Captain Puffy- A sheep hybrid, with small curled sheep horns, sheep ears, a fluffy sheep tail, hooves, and hair curly and soft like wool. The split in her hair between brown and white is natural, though she keeps a small section dyed rainbow.

Vikkstar- Another angel, though of a god long gone. His entire body, even his “clothes” (which are made of flesh) glow intensely bright and have the pattern of the night sky.

LazarBeam- A gingerbread hybrid, which I’d say is dumb but we’ve already had a refrigerator hybrid so. I don’t know what else to say here.

Ranboo- Half enderman, half god of some sort. Has small horns, pointy ears, an inhumanly wide mouth with fangs, claws, digitigrade feet ending in hoof-like claws, pure black and white skin, pure black and white hair and freckles on the opposite side of the skin, red and green heterochromatic eyes barely distinguishable from their sclera, and red and green blood. Hmm, I wonder what other character shares similar descriptions... :)

FoolishG- A more matured god than Dream. Appears to be made entirely out of gold, with his hair and freckles appearing like copper. His pure green eyes have a similar texture to emeralds. Also he’s like. Massive. He’s like eleven Skeppy's.

Hannah- A nymph of the forests. Has prehensile vines and flowers flowing in her hair all the way to the ground, and half of her face and one of her arms are entirely made of these prehensile vines and flowers. Makes flowers grow in her step, after being corrupted by the egg they wither around her instead.

Charlie- Slime hybrid. Honestly just kind of got the most impractical parts of being a hybrid, having random sections of skin changed into green slime which drips everywhere and kind of gets in the way. It doesn’t seem to bother him though.