#maybe the box is empty and it’s just the gesture that unsettles him

[thebookworm0001]

I don’t know if I’ll make it an official thing but I like the idea of one of solas’ agents having infiltrated Ellana’s circle and her just. letting it happen.

and the official reason is that it’s better to have the spies where they know they’re there. They can work around them easily enough and feed them information that obscures their true movements enough to keep solas’ people distracted without tipping them off

but of course it’s not really about that.

and at some point she just gets so, so tired. And here’s this agent of the man she has to stop but loves despite it all and gives up the ruse. She just asks how he’s doing. And of course the agent doesn’t know - the denial and confusion aren’t fake; solas wouldn’t have someone with that direct of a line to him anywhere near her the inquisition - but she asks anyway. And asks if they can pass along a message, when they run back to whoever it is they report to.

And the agent is more than a bit terrified because, well, it’s the inquisitor, and while she has a reputation for mercy, they’ve also heard about what happens when that mercy runs dry. And it’s not entirely clear whether, after everything, she has any for someone she knows has been spying on her for months.

and she just hands them a small box with a wax seal. It’s nothing impressive. Barely large enough to fill their palm, but she asks them not to open it and see that it gets to him, if they can.

and neither she nor the agent know what becomes of that box, only that, not long after they pass it to their cell leader, the number of elves in the shattered remains of the inquisition dips ever so slightly, and, once or twice, Ellana feels as though, if she turned around in her dreams, she might feel a wolf’s fur warm against her palm

[intangibly-here]

it’s a fact (that i want you in my life)

various (diluc, kaeya, xiao, zhongli)

- scenarios; 6.8k words - gn!reader - fluff & angst - hurt/comfort - warning: description of injuries/blood, mild cursing

————————————————————

is it really so hard to be understood?

[argument & reconciliation scenarios]

title from mckay, jeff bernat - angel 2 me.

requested by @nanana-kashi

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❥ diluc

it’s a chilly evening, as always. 

you trod down the dusty path, steps kicking up clouds of dirt and sending pebbles skidding as you walk. the dim glow of street lamps illuminate the edges of your figure, passing under them on your stroll returning home. you take carefully measured steps past the countless rows of grapevines, past the stone walls of the building’s perimeter, and arrive at the polished front doors. 

the dawn winery is quiet in the evening, only the chirping of crickets filling the silence, whereas servants would fill the air with talk and work during the day. fishing out a key from your pocket, you unlock the door with a click. 

all that meets you when you enter is more silence. empty again.

diluc has always been a busy man. he’s a hard worker, as are all of the people that surround the two of you are, and he carries the heavy weight of an entire legacy on his shoulders. recently, however, he’s been especially illusive, managing the angel’s share during waking hours and working undercover as the “darknight hero” so to speak throughout the evenings. 

while it’s not out of the ordinary for diluc to work nights on end, it is unusual that you haven’t caught a glimpse of him at all, between visiting the angel’s share during his usual shift or roaming the paved streets of mondstadt. even asking charles himself remained fruitless. 

“my sincerest apologies, but i haven’t seen him. i’d thought he was with you.”

it’s even more unusual that he hadn’t told you a word of what he’s been up to. were you that untrustworthy?

you close the door with a resigned sigh, removing the bow that’s been strapped to your back and resting it against the wall across from the entrance. your pull your gloves off, the mahogany leather of it reminding you of ruby eyes and stiff clothing. they drop into a box rested on a nearby shelf. the unsettling silence closes in around you, and for a moment, you breathe in a strikingly painful loneliness. it fills your chest uncomfortably, like it’s carving out a hollow space in-between your ribs, gnawing at your heart. then, you breathe out, and the discomfort dissipates. no, he trusts you. you know you both do.

even so, something shifts wrong inside you without diluc here. 

you’re not sure how to feel about it.  

you minutely fiddle with your ring, cool silver pressed against warm skin, finger tracing the simple engravings carved into it with care. it’d been your request for something subtle, away from the flashiness of blinging jewels and rare stones. 

he’ll be back soon. 

you say this, turn the words over and over in your head just as you turn the ring on your finger, but you know better than that. you had truly believed it the first day, but then the first day bled into a second, a third day into a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh—

and now you stand here on the eighth day by the arching doors, inside the enormous mansion, cold and disappointed and alone. 

you shake your head, chastising yourself internally. it’s no use worrying yourself down over it. dropping the rest of your belongings in a pile by the foot of the bed, you scratch the back of your head and turn to the bathroom. best to run yourself a shower and get to bed quickly. the whirring of crickets and fireflies keep you company ‘till the sound of splashing water erases the quiet. 

you’re toweling your hair off, foggy wisps of steam trailing behind you as you leave the bathroom, when you hear the resounding click of the front door. 

diluc?

leaving the towel hanging around your neck, you walk to the entrance room where the man you’ve been waiting for stands upright, glancing at you when you enter. it only lingers for a second, before darting back to his own hands.

“welcome home.”

“thanks.”

the clock ticks in the heavy silence. 

“not going to say anything?”

he lifts his head up to face you properly for the first time in a week, confused. fiery red hair shuffles with his movements, and he releases it from the confines of his hairtie. “what is there to say?”

you take a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling again. you fiddle with your ring again. “we haven’t seen each other for days, and there’s nothing you want to say?”

“...” he purses his lips. 

“i’ve been looking for you.”

diluc looks away. “..i’ve been busy.”

your stare turns frostier by the second, the beginnings of a bonfire starting inside you. oh really now? just an ‘i’ve been busy’? “busy enough that you couldn’t spare even a second to let me know that you were doing okay?”

he bristles at your chilly tone, hackles rising, and body turning sharply away, apparently preoccupied with hanging his coat up. “i don’t need you to fret over me like— like this.” 

the words have you suddenly losing all your temper, leaving behind only the dredges of a deep-seated sorrow.

“am i not allowed to worry about my husband?”

his untold frustration seems to only grow at the dimming fire flickering out in your eyes, and his eyes narrow. still, he stays silent, a brooding look on his face. it wars with the thinning desperation you unconsciously let yourself show tonight. 

“ —even if you won’t tell me what you’re up to, why won’t you see me at all?”

the loosening hold on your emotions is gripped tight once more at the deafening silence not unalike how it were even without him. your face is drawn neutral once more, and you turn to make your way back to bed. 

“..alright, diluc. goodnight then.”

seems like tonight was a lost cause as well. you trail through the hallways, pausing before the door to the study. you enter against your better judgement, something pulling at you to not do this— but really, did you have to listen to that voice? something curls inside you, hurt and tired. that voice never helped with anything anyway. diluc’s still drifting, far, farther away from you and you’re still alone. 

(you know your emotions are getting the better of you, but you just can’t help it. how are you supposed to handle something you’d never dealt with before?)

standing before a relatively smaller bookcase, you reach up to pull out a book rather carelessly—

diluc opens the door, a regretful nervousness on his face and brow furrowed, to see the heavy wooden shelf tumble onto you. his eyes widen, and he lunges forward. 

thud.

- 

you blearily blink your eyes open a couple times to dim spots floating across your vision. two distinct voices murmur somewhere in the vicinity of the room. last you remember, you’d left diluc at the front door... and went to pick out a book for the study.. and oh.

so you’re recovering now, you’d assume. 

you trace the bandages on your head with sublime caution. the door clicks shut, bringing you out of your thoughts, and you tilt your head on the pillow. red. it’s diluc. he’s in his casual attire, plain white top and black slacks, but is still so stunning. maybe even more so than his regular clothing. 

diluc whips where he was staring at the door towards you, eyes wide and hand flying to his face. it’s flushed a brilliant crimson pink. 

oops. 

snapping out of his daze, diluc rushes to your side and kneels by the bedside. your mouth opens to protest his actions, then pauses, and closes again. it’s about time you receive an explanation. you two are past unnecessarily polite formalities. he grasps your hands in his calloused ones like a lifeline. 

“i’m so, so sorry, my love.” he stumbles over his words, almost like he’s choking them up from the bottom of his heart. maybe he is. “i didn’t want to get you caught up in the— the incompetence of the knights, and all the troubles that come with cleaning up after them.”

he glances away at the floor, gazing somewhere you can’t reach him. 

“...all it brings is sorrow.”

he takes a shaky breath, and his eyes glisten from underneath his mussed bangs. his hands tremble in yours, and your eyes soften. you run a hand through his hair in a silent gesture. continue when you’re ready. it’s alright. 

“a-and so i didn’t tell you, didn’t go to find you. there was a really— really unexpected gathering of abyss mages, and i didn’t want you to get involved. but you’re right— i shouldn’t need to hide it or avoid you because of it. i’m—” 

he chokes back a sob, wiping furiously at his eyes, and for a moment, it reminds you of how he was before everything happened. how bright he was. how open. but it’s of no importance any longer, and you brush the stray thoughts aside. mature or not, cheery or not, he is still diluc. he is still the man you love. 

“it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you shush his sobbing gently, cupping his face in the palm of your hands. “i forgive you. i always will.”

you nudge him up from the floor and into downy bedsheets, nestling him in front of you. encircled in your embrace, diluc huddles closer to you, sniffling all the while. 

“when the bookcase fell on you, i was so scared. i— i thought you’d...” 

he trails off, face buried in the crook of your neck. you can feel him pressing his cheek into it, nuzzling closer. you lean your head against his in a comforting manner, i’m here love, and the heavy conversation peters into a soothing silence. you both move in tandem with your breathing, intertwined and floating in the newfound peace. 

“..’m love you...” 

but a whisper in the (welcomed, for once) silence, diluc drags out the mumbled syllables childishly, probably embarrassed from the entire ordeal. you press a warm kiss to the top of his head and smile for once, affectionately, softly, sweetly—  

“love you too, diluc.”

❥ kaeya

sometimes, just sometimes, the personality of kaeya alberich, mister cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, gets on your nerves.

kaeya is sly and sweet-talking, words sharp and lined with double meanings left and right. even at night, tucked into each other and settling into the quiet of drowsiness, teasing words will slip out of his lips and leave you either furiously blushing, firing back at him, or cracking up in full blown laughter— most of the time.

his joking manner is what drew you to him, the way he’s the spark in the room and how he brightens up your life with every passing moment.

it is also what is pushing you away now.

you know you’re being stupid. his joking and teasing is just one of the many parts of the man you fell in love with, inseparable and intertwined. it’s just kaeya being— well, kaeya. and it’s a wonderful part of him that you’d never want him to give up on.

the thought itself doesn’t exactly help when you’re spiraling into a pit of unwanted emotions.

lately, you’ve been heading home late, exhausted and worn out from putting everything into your job during the day. you hadn’t anticipated the rain to come down so hard and in turn didn’t bring an umbrella, resulting in absolutely waterlogged clothes and soggy shoes as you neared the pathway up to your home. today, you’d just like a little soft peace and quiet.

the thought stings like a sharp slap to the face when you open the door to kaeya’s unusually boisterous laughter (usually it’s less... annoying than this...), the room smelling thickly of wine. you can hear the clink of glass against glass from where you’re standing in the doorway.

whenever kaeya happens to consume alcohol, he becomes rowdier than ever; this incident is no exception. you shake your head and sigh. apparently kaeya is sober enough to notice you, because he looks over at you and grins in a telltale sign of mischief.

(not sober enough to recognize your breaking point it seems.)

“kept me waiting long enough, sweetheart! look at poor lil’ lonely me, sitting here with only this wine to keep me company.” he shakes the bottle in his hand, pouring another glass, taking another sip. “don’t you think i deserve a little something? maybe—”

the rest of his words are drowned out in the buzz of your mind, piling on your strained emotions. it’s so much. too much. (it’s unreasonable, you know you know you know, but you can’t stop, won’t stop, it won’t stop—)

does he not see you?

the words fly out of your mouth before you can reign in your haywire thoughts—

“would you just shut up? asshole...”

—anddd you didn’t mean to say that.

the rainwater drips from your clothes and pools onto the floor in a miserable puddle. the shocked look on his face and the thump of the wine botte falling to the floor says enough to send you turning on your heels back into the pouring rain. the door slams shut behind you almost achingly as you run wherever your feet will take you.

stupid stupid stupid! why did you say that! your head throbs in a mixture of hurt, guilt, and confusion. you stumble on rain-sodden ground and stray pebbles as your feet rapidly grow sore, unable to keep up with you anymore. 

your legs give up from under you, and you collapse to the ground, face buried in your hands. even if you were tired, you shouldn’t have just shouted at him like that — he didn’t even know what you were upset over! you didn’t tell him!

picking the pieces of your thoughts back together as the adrenaline wears off, you unsteadily rise to your feet once more, knees shaky and weak. it’s as you’re preparing the walk home from who knows where you ran to, you hear a loud grunt from the vicinity behind you. 

oh no.

just as you feared, when you turn around you’re greeted face-to-face by a shield-bearing mitachurl that’s likely strayed from its camp. its shadow looms in front of you, crawling forward as it slowly makes its way to you. you scramble for your sword, fingers digging at the buckles of your belt, then realize you had left it hanging on the sword rack at home. 

(kaeya...)

the stomping grows closer, like an ominous sign, and you curse under your breath. as much as you’d like to believe you can survive this relatively unharmed, your wobbling legs and unarmed hands say otherwise.

without another moment to spare, the mitachurl dashes forward, swinging its shield as if it were weightless. you put all your effort into dodging its sweeping blows, the embedded stones whistling by your face as you scan the area in another attempt to run—

as you turn your head, the mitachurl charges in from your blindspot, slamming straight into the side of your head. 

fuck. 

the impact sends you falling backwards in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs and stinging scratches. the throbbing at your temple doubles over, and when you tentatively reach up to touch it, you feel it’s sickeningly sticky. blood. a lot of it. 

black spots swim across your vision, and hazily, you think you hear a voice call your name in the distance. whatever it was, it’s soon drowned out by the sound of the creature stomping towards you impendingly. 

hallucinating already? you bark out a hysterical laugh in spite of it all, then hunch over in a fit of hacking coughs. red streaks across the dry grass. it burns. you rub at your throat. any further efforts would be futile. you know a hopeless situation when you see one— or in this case, are in one. 

thump.

another bruise blooms on your leg, and you wince. closing your eyes, your fuzzy conscious awaits its silence. there’s a swoosh, the raising of the mitachurl’s shield, and you brace your body for the impact—

“love, you— what— i—“

something, someone, lifts you up, up, up. and you’re drifting, carried in gentle arms and smooth fabric. the air grows heavier, the whistling of finely honed swordsmanship hanging in the wind, and the thundering steps draw to an abrupt stop. a familiar voice trickles into your ears, but your mind is sinking sinking...

(it trembles.)

on the edge of your sopor, just before you fall into its depths, you feel a clammy hand clutch yours. it’s warm. 

mind empty, the bone-deep exhaustion swallows you, vision fading to black. 

-

you awaken to soft white sheets and bandages looped round your arms. your muscles scream at you when you try to rise, flames of pain crawling up your torso and singing your nerves. a grimace paints itself across your face, and you slump back against the pillows. what had happened again...?

the lock clicks, door swinging open, and you turn your head to face it. kaeya steps in, a tray in hand as he closes the door with a twist of his hand. when he raises his head, his eye widens, and you can see the faint bags under it, red rimmed at the edge. you purse your lips, heart panging in your chest. 

neither of you speak when he shuffles to the bedside, setting the tray down on the nightstand and picking up a stray pillow that had fallen to the ground. it must’ve been when you’d just woken up; you hadn’t noticed. he tucks in back into its spot behind your back, propping it to help you sit a bit more upright. he doesn’t retrieve his hands from where they rest on top of yours. 

you start, “kaeya, i’m so—”

he doesn’t let you continue, pressing a finger to your lips. 

“sweetheart, i should be the one saying that.” he ruffles your hair endearingly, expression both relieved and pained at the same time. “i was drunk and just let you run out there—” he pauses. “i pushed it too far.”

you can feel the start of tears welling at the corners of your eyes, hands trembling and teeth wearing at your bottom lip. “...i still should’ve spoken up. you wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

he smiles warmly, genuinely, the cheerful glint in his eye sparkling at you through glossy eyes. “then next time, speak up, alright darling? we both can learn from this.” you nod, and he cups your face, thumbing the rims of your eyes and the side of your cheeks where rivulets of tears paint transparent rivers.

“may i kiss you?”

there’s a lot more to unpack to your actions, both your physical injuries and mending the worn strings of your minds, but for now—

you nod wordlessly once more and lean in, meeting him in a soft, sweet kiss. he wraps his arms around you in a familiar hug that you’ve sorely missed and pulls back, pressing more small, but equally as sweet kisses across your face. 

—for now, this is enough. 

❥ xiao

“you need to take better care of yourself!”

xiao rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in protest like a child. he sure is acting like one right now. why is it that he’s only like this when it comes to medicine? every time... you grimace at him, glaring threateningly and shaking the porcelain bottle in your hand. the round pills roll over each other, rattling in the container. 

“xiao...”

xiao just huffs and snarks back, turning his face away as if it’d do anything. 

“i’m doing fine. adepti don’t need medicine.”

it’s a weak argument, and he knows it. why is he fighting this so much? it’s just taking painkillers. no matter; it’s time to put in the finishing argument. 

“it’s from zhongli.”

the statement has him freezing in place, chewing his bottom lip nervously. of course it’s the mention of zhongli that has him finally seriously considering listening to you. petulant kid. can’t believe you’re really dating this thousand-year-old child. 

“i—”

he cuts himself off and goes silent for a beat, another argument on the tip of his tongue, but accepts the medicine in defeat anyway. you drop the little jar into his outstretched hand, and he pockets it in a flash. now if it were only that easy from the beginning...

“fine. but you have to stop nagging me so much.”

you can agree with that one. 

“alright, it’s a compromise.”

unconsciously, his mouth draws into a pout, and you chuckle, dipping down and kissing his cheek. his face shifts from awkward confusion to sudden realization, immediately stiffening up and stalking off in a mere shadow of his usual cool. 

if you spy the pink flushed tips of his ears and the prominent blush on his cheeks as he leaps off the balcony, you keep it to yourself. 

-

so much for taking care of yourself.

“and you were saying?” 

the door slides open, frame rattling as the illustrations of one panel swallows the other. xiao in all his midget glory strides in, footsteps careful as he closes the door behind him. a tray is balanced in one hand as he does it, somehow steadier than you’ve ever actually held a tray before. even with two hands. is this an adeptus thing too? expert, perfect, unbelievably infallible tray holding? you can tell from the expression on his face as he makes his way over that something’s tipping him off. he’s definitely grimacing, like he would when you said something unbearably stupid— in his terms of course. not yours. 

is he a mind reader too? wasn’t that only a rex lapis thing? like with the prayers?

“you look like shit.”

even worse than earlier goes unsaid. his face is typical frosty-xiao, but his brows are furrowed and disbelief shines in his eyes. guess it wasn’t your thoughts after all. but actually, did you really look that bad?

“yes, it’s that bad. now sit up so you can eat.”

whoops. 

holding yourself from making any snide comebacks, you move to touch your cheek as you sit up, a little shocked when it actually makes contact with the back of your hand; it feels as though your face was set in front of an open fireplace. a damp towel drops off your forehead, plopping on the blankets. it’s lukewarm. huh, didn’t notice that before. 

removing the used towel, xiao sets the tray down on your lap meticulously. now closer, you can see the plates of cold noodles and steaming bowls of jewelry soup sitting on the wooden tray. the smell is incredibly appetizing, as expected of smiley yanxiao, and you take care in preparing to eat the sumptuous meal. 

“aw, thanks xiao.” 

he turns his head away habitually, too shy to meet your eyes. you can, however, see his fingers subconsciously fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. the sun takes that moment to peek out of the clouds and through the window, outlining the contours of xiao’s face and soften his sharp features. it makes him look almost luminescent, like an angel descended from the skies, and you’re drowning in his being. he’s stunning. 

feeling your stare, xiao whips his head back around, narrowing his eyes and nearly growling. like a cat, your mind supplies. your cat. 

(and then you laugh at your thoughts, because xiao isn’t anyone’s. you just happen to be by his side for as long as wants you here.

and yours, him.)

“don’t stare,” he hisses, and then you can’t hold your laughter any longer, hacking out laughter at his defensive demeanor. “you- !”

he hastily picks up the pair of chopsticks on the tray, taking a mouthful of mushroom-topped noodles between them and stuffing it into your mouth. you immediately cease your chortling to chew, else you shove yourself into a choking fit. 

floating bits of dust fade in and out of the sunbeams falling on the floorboards, as if playing peekaboo with the air. the noodles are perfectly seasoned, mixed with just the right amount of sesame and savory sauce to not be bland, but not taste overpowering. they’re light and easy to swallow, and xiao hands you a cup of tea as you finish your bite; his fingers brush against yours, soft and warm. you sniffle. your runny nose hinders your senses, but you can still smell the faint scent of qingxin blossoms, and a relaxed smile makes it’s way to your face as you take a sip. 

this is nice.

❥ zhongli

you’d first seen morax in the midst of a fierce battle. 

jueyun karst was as empty as always, save for the presence of several adepti crouching in the shadows, more than the darkness would usually hide. then, as you sat high in the branches of one of the many golden trees in the valley, feet swinging over spikes of climbing amber protruding from the ground, you sensed a change in the atmosphere. the wind whistling through the treetops and over your head shifted sharply, soft gusts transforming into howling gales that had you falling backwards. 

cursing under your breath, you gripped the branch tightly, face scrunched in a grimace. by the time the turbulent winds had stopped, your hair blown astray in a hilarious mess and your back rebalanced against the trunk of the tree, a squirming, inky mass of something had appeared, hovering in the air just above the ground. it steadily grew in both physical size and energy, the air humming and pulsing with it’s indiscernible movements, until it towered at the height of the larger trees, far larger than any human could. 

you could feel the surrounding adepti grow increasingly concerned, their energy fluctuating wildly, but they showed no signs of movement. why? shouldn’t they be neutralizing this threat? your feet pick up their movement again from where they’d stilled during the storm, swinging back and forth. forwards. the lump of dark energy steps towards the harbor. backwards. another step. forwards. it pauses in its steps, unfurling its wings. back-

thump. 

so that would be why they hadn’t moved. almost as if heaving a sigh of relief, the chaotic energy of the adepti lurking nearby immediately deflate, retreating back into a neutral state. oh hoh, a big shot? when a gold-pattern embellished white robe emerges from a tear in empty space, you nearly topple over from your spot in the tree. bingo. 

the storm clouds in the sky poured as they fought, the sound of pattering raindrops both filling your ears and serving as a backdrop to the clashing of metal and vicious growls. as you watched him fight, the prime adeptus rex lapis, lithe form crossing blows with the distorted form of an abyssal beast, you knew from somewhere deep in your soul that something was bound to change. 

(it was when you were leaping down from the tree to leave, silently thanking him with a glance in his direction, that your gazes interlocked. morax made for an awfully odd sight when he had both a curious spark gleaming in his eyes and a dissolving corpse at his feet. and well, if it got even odder when he invited you to tea, that would be his problem, not yours— even if you had accepted the offer.) 

soon after, in the days following that first “meeting”, you’d seen zhongli (as he preferred to be called) in town, lingering indecisively around various stalls both big and small. noticing his dilemma, as a good friend (if you could be considered that; you’d only watched him slaughter a demonic monster and talked over tea once after all) you walked over and helped him out. 

multiple tea outings, three bags of mora and several weeks later, zhongli is looking into your eyes— and wow, this is really reminding you of your first meeting, where he was beating the shit out of that thing while you all just sat around and waited for him to be done and— he’s getting closer? please say this is going where you hope it’s going—

evidently you win this time, because zhongli moves forward and presses his (soft, soft, soft—) lips to yours in a breathtakingly warm kiss. 

he tastes faintly like the sweet syrup of the almond tofu you’d shared earlier, and the moment he draws his head back to allow you a breath, you pull him back in for another. 

-

your shoes step soundly against polished flooring as you enter the doorway of liuli pavilion, soft chatter drifting between the rhythmic click-clacking of your stride. the waitress greets you politely as you walk in, taking a glance at the clipboard she’s holding, then gesturing for you to follow her. 

“based on your attire and the time, you must be the one mister zhongli is waiting for, no?” 

to the assenting dip of your head she gives her own in return, leading you through the back doors and to a secluded table out in the open. settled by the railing overlooking the harbor is zhongli, pristine as always, sipping a steaming cup of tea. 

he doesn't notice you at first, attention trained on the book lain out on the table, but then you're sliding into your seat with a quiet thank you to the waitress, chair audibly scraping against the pavement, and he looks up. remarkably deep amber eyes meet yours, but then again, you’re not meeting a random passerby now, are you? 

(you’re not wooing just anyone.)

or at least, that’s what you’d thought. however, by the time he’s mentioned guizhong for the— what, 5th time tonight? you can’t say you’re completely unfazed. guizhong was his partner in war, best friend, closest companion; of course he would talk about her. it’s only natural now that you’re getting to know each other more. 

yeah. natural. 

you rest your head on the palm of your hand, leaning forward onto the table. the glass of wine in your other sloshes against its confines. your eyes follow it as the liquid tips and turns over itself, deep mahogany flowing into semi-opaque purples and vibrant reds. 

guizhong. she’s an inarguably important part of his very, very long past. you understand this— but really, did he have to talk about her regarding every single thing? it’s as if— as if you were just— just there. you’re missing something. there’s a label for this feeling, you know there is, but it’s only escaping your mind the more you think about it. just what is it...?

“the leaves of this tea have been harvested from wild glaze lilies themselves, then additionally infused with the purified essence of glaze lily blossoms. countless meticulous steps and tremendous efforts must have been taken to execute this brew as splendidly as it was. it is most definitely an exquisite tea befitting of guizhong’s legacy.”

zhongli pauses, then sighs wistfully, a reminiscent expression painted on his face. 

“an... unfortunate end she had. time never stops, neither for gods nor mortals alike.” 

ah, yes. irreversible, unalterable, set in stone. you’ve heard these words so many times over, no matter how eloquently they’d been reshaped and rephrased. no matter how different they’d sounded every time. no matter how much you wished you could stop overthinking it. 

looking less like a new romantic interest and more like a replacement, you chuckle inwardly to yourself as zhongli stares out over the harbor, a new mortal friend to chat with. the thought hits a little too close to home, and oh that was the word you were looking for. 

you are just a replacement. 

how could you not be? you see how zhongli looks when he talks about her. though he doesn’t say it outright, you know he loved her.

still loves her. 

and so, who— no, what are you but just another someone? 

and here you were thinking you were someone special. of course you just had to stick your nose somewhere it didn’t belong. 

you’d really thought you could keep your head cool in all situations; no, before all this you really had—  but suddenly when emotions and love are involved, everything spirals out of your control. vile thoughts crawl up from the depths of your soul, clawing at your rationality and eating away at your want want want. 

and so when zhongli turns to look into your eyes again, mixed emotions rise in your heart like bile would up your throat. the wine you’d been drinking all night loosens your tongue, and the words are slipping out of your mouth before you can take them back. 

“are you really going to talk about her all night?“

fuck.

zhongli frowns for a fraction of a second, his head tilting to the side in contemplation, then parts his lips and replies:

“is there a problem with it?”

his answer makes you want to throw your head back in hysterical laughter. his energy is completely placid, which actually might make it even worse. he’s genuinely asking. genuinely fucking asking. here your head is, overrun with thoughts left and right, mind fraying at the seams, and that’s what he’s asking? is there a problem? your hand clenches and unclenches, nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. he has to be joking. 

a waiter arrives to change and refill the empty pot of tea, but immediately stiffens at the silent atmosphere. once the new tea leaves have been added and begun to steep, he immediately hightails it out of there, nearly slipping in his haste.

clink. 

you set your wine glass on the tabletop. need to sober up after that one. zhongli still looks faintly puzzled, but allows you to do as you wish, and you both watch as steam floats up from the spout of the teapot. pouring a cup of glaze lily tea, your mind taunts, you take a sip to clear your head. 

huh. that’s odd.

you pull the porcelain rim away from your mouth, tilting the cup to stare at its contents. nothing is out of the ordinary, and the tea smells as fragrant as ever, but there’s a particular... sweetness to it? if it were any more bitter you wouldn’t have payed it attention, but the brew shouldn’t be.. sweet?

“zhongli, did you add anything to the tea?”

the bewilderment on his face only grows. 

“i don’t believe so? nothing other than the tea itself should be present...”

the corner of your mouth quirks down, eyes still inspecting the tea dredges in the cup. then why was the tea... was it really just your taste buds? a foreboding feeling sends shivers down your spine, and it’s building building building—

zhongli’s eyes suddenly widen, and he startles back from the table like a frightened colt. his head whips to the side, spear immediately appearing in his hand, and he draws his shoulder back at a speed you hadn’t seen before. the tip slices through air and hits its mark instantaneously, pinning the waiter from earlier to the wall he was lurking behind. zhongli rises from his seat, the tips of his hair glowing amber, and promptly knocks the man out with a blow to his neck. the waiter lets out a choked sound, then slumps unconscious. a crumpled piece of paper falls from his pocket. 

instructions. zhongli understands what’s happened the moment he picks up the piece of parchment. most likely sent because of the swindling incident yesterday. a desperate last-resort attempt at ridding the millelith of a witness. 

dexterous fingers begin to unfold the note. 

but why implement such an unskilled assassin? they barely had any killing intent whatsoever, else they would have been noticed sooner. there are no weapons other than this dagger on them either... his eyes swiftly scan the contents of the note, and all at once, everything falls into place.

the tea. he should’ve realized it sooner. 

the clatter of rattling dishes sounds from behind him, and he spins on his heels, staring wide-eyed—

red red red stains your hand and drips through your fingers, spilling out of your mouth and splattering the ground. red. your throat makes a garbled noise, not unalike the one made by the waiter just moments before, and your eyes dilate out of focus, rapidly glazing over. red.

you collapse in your chair, and all he can see is red. 

picking you up carefully in his arms, he closes his eyes (from the red red—) and teleports to the pharmacy. 

a single plead hangs in the air. 

- 

you jolt awake, hand flying to your mouth and chest heaving anxiously. you can still taste the metallic tang of blood. your blood. 

then, as you’re trembling from what could have been a brush with death, firm arms wrap themselves around you, tucking you securely into a warm chest. 

“shh... it’s okay. it’s okay.”

a low voice murmurs reassurances to you, cradling you in safety and tranquility. zhongli runs his hand through your hair soothingly, bringing you down from the frantic state you’d awoke to, and now you can recognize where you are. zhongli’s living room. you’re settled on his lap, gathered in his hold, and you can feel his steady breathing against you, a stark contrast to your own labored breaths. it’s when he’s sensed that you’ve regained rationality that he begins to explain. 

“you were out for a few hours and collapsed due to the poisoning that was originally intended for my consumption. i sincerely apologize for that. it was an unfortunate mishap.”

his voice is smooth and saccharine sweet as he talks, a deep rumble that you can feel as you lay your face on his chest. he takes it on himself to explain a little further of what happened while you were unconscious, which you are grateful for so you can sort your... thoughts out, from before the interruption.

(while he brushes over the matter of carrying you in his arms rather perfunctorily, it still lights a warm flame in your heart. you want this to work out. desperately.)

when his narration peters out to a natural quiet, the muffled hum of early morning workers bustling about outside, you ask the question that’s been on your mind since the very beginning of your outing. 

“is this,” you gesture to him, to you, to the comfort, the hugs, the love, “because of guizhong too?”

understanding finally washes over zhongli’s face in subtle waves, and he gives the most mesmerizingly fond smile to your doubting question. a rich chuckle bubbles up from his chest, the endearing tinge to it only pushing your slight confusion forward. 

“ah, so this is what your previous question was mentioning.”

his eyes soften, the smudge of red under them only making the gold of his irises bloom even further. the hazy look in his eyes makes you feel like he’s drifting. you can recognize that well enough.

(drifting away from you, a faint bite of a bitter voice whispers.)

“yes, i did love guizhong. she’d departed from this land all too soon for me to convey it, and it is one of the few things i still regret to this day.”

the words spark a pang in your chest, the sharp, tingling-sour kind that reminds you of unripe sunsettias and overly spiced mint, but you take a deep breath and it fades. you should hear him out. you need to. you want to.

“i retold my memories with her to you because they were... my happiest memories. they were all i had to speak of, other than the redundant miscellaneous knowledge i’ve retained over the years. i’d thought you’d rather hear of happy experiences rather than the long tangents i can run myself off of. i’ve been properly chastised by this incident nevertheless.”

he gently tilts your head up from where it’s buried in the front of his silk shirt, wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. you sniffle and wait for him to finish speaking, chest already lightening. 

“however, remember this— while i did love guizhong, you are not a mere semblance of her for me to retain by my side.”

he calls your name softly, reverently.

“my love, you are not a replacement. the one i’m in love with now is you.”

relief, warmth, and love love love surges in your chest altogether as he smiles gingerly, and you cup his face with your own hands, feeling the heat of his flushed cheeks against your palms. 

his lips are plush, soft against your own chapped ones as you draw him into a kiss spelling all the things you couldn’t say out loud. that you were frustrated at the thought of being a rebound for him. that you were terrified at the thought of dying with regrets. that you were unimaginably relieved at his explanation. 

that you love him too. 

zhongli takes it all into stride, leading your hands to rest on his waist as his own cup the back of your head and nape of your neck. he kisses fully, wholeheartedly, lips moving tenderly against yours, giving back what you’re bringing forward to him, for him, in equal measure. it feels right. 

thank you, zhongli.

[lacheri]

when you can’t sleep at night // wake me (sequel)

pairing: captain!Levi x cadet!fem bodied reader

content: angst, canonverse, mentions and talks of death/portrayals of death, depictions of violence, blood, overall dark themes, unestablished relationship, fingering, mutual loss of virginities, overstimulation, takes place sometime before the 57th expedition (didn't follow an exact timeline), there is a lot of talks about dying in this, levi asks a lot of intrusive questions, minors DNI.

summary: levi finds he holds an affection to a certain cadet of his. you find that maybe the comfort of your captain can quiet the thoughts plaguing your mind, even if just for one night.

wc: 10.7k

The clouds were so fluffy, so white and pure as you longingly watched them swirl above you. Your entire body was numb, back flat against the dirt with all your limbs stretched out. Your brain felt fuzzy, and for a fleeting moment you were flying in the clouds. You could feel the water vapor skim past your fingertips, the air whooshing against you as you soared. You looked down at the earth beneath your form, all the trees and even the walls looked so tiny from this height. This peaceful daydream was pulled from you with a start, your chest heaving with coughs.

“I’m so sorry!” you heard a voice call out, your line of vision intruded by the hazy form of a person leering over you. “I didn’t mean to hit you like that!”

“‘S okay,” you choked out, the numbness fading into aches all over your body. “I’ve gotten you good a couple of times too, Eren.”

“You know what, on second thought,” Eren’s lips spread into a smirk as he extended a hand down. “Consider this payback for beating my ass all those times in the Training Corps.”

“Good on you for finally landing a hit,” you chuckled, wincing as he hauled you to your feet. “Only took you three years.”

You rocked on your ankles, steadying yourself quickly before your legs gave out on you. Eren had gotten you good, roundhouse kicking you in your chest to lay you out on your ass. His training sessions had begun to pay off, used to the reverse happening when the two of you sparred. Mikasa would look on intently, a small smile on her lips when you’d punch Eren’s smug face with a sharp hook. You and 104th cadets were a friendly, strong group, bonded over the horrors of the titans, especially after what happened in Trost.

“What are you brats doing out here?”

Your heads whipped in the direction of the strong voice, meeting the steely hard set eyes of Levi, your captain and soon to be squad leader. His arms were crossed, and you gulped upon taking notice of how his biceps strained under the grey linen of his button up. You quickly flickered your focus back to his eyes before he caught you eyeing him up.

“Just sparring,” Eren hadn’t released the grip on your hand, nor had he noticed he was still holding onto your palm as he addressed the superior. “Prepping for the mission tomorrow.”

Levi frowned, “And who told you it was okay to do so when I gave you cadets instruction to clean the headquarters from top to bottom?”

You pulled your hand from Eren’s as you responded, “Sorry, Captain Levi. We’ll get on it right away.”

Levi only let out a displeased ‘tch’ as he turned on his heels, walking away without further commentary. Eren shot you an eye roll, and you held back a snicker as the pair of you followed shortly after the ravenette. Maybe the two of you had snuck away to leave the rest of your comrades to attack the former Survey Corps headquarters with dusters and cleaning rags, not wanting to participate in your weekly assigned duties. Eren had been adamant in the cobwebbed hallway on the second floor that he had to practice his hand to hand combat, just in case your squads ran into some problems on tomorrow’s mission. You had eagerly agreed, wanting to be as far away from the unsettled dust that assaulted your nostrils, itching at your allergies.

As the three of you entered the building, Levi abruptly turned to the two of you trailing behind him, you and Eren jumping in fright, “Eren, go to the dining hall, you’re going to wipe down underneath all the tables. As for you, brat, you get the honor of cleaning my room.”

Eren shot you a sympathetic look discreetly, nodding to your captain as he hightailed it to the hall.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, alone now with the captain. He studied you for a brief moment, gesturing with his head for you to follow him. Your feet moved before your mind could will you, and the soft thuds of your footsteps across the wooden planks of the floor was all that was heard. You snuck glances at the man before you, taking notice that his undercut was slightly grown in, his longer hair uncharacteristically out of place. Levi looked disheveled in a way, his tan leather jacket creased.

You opened your mouth to make a comment, but decided against it in the end. You were going to offer your assistance, to help freshen up his fade and to do his laundry, but figured Levi was a grown man who could take care of himself. You had a soft spot for the man, humanity’s strongest soldier. You knew a title like that came with a weight you could not fathom, especially after the horrors you had seen at Trost when the titans broke through the walls. You could remember everything so clearly, almost as if it was happening right now. You had nearly died that day.

Your older age amongst your fellow cadets was not one of gain you found out. After learning about the tragedy of Wall Maria, the wall closest to your village, it inspired you to join the Survey Corps in order to help the world. Humanity was dying, almost completely obliterated. Distant family members had died in Shiganshina that day, and the reality of the titans weighed heavily on you. How could you sit idly by as the world you knew was being destroyed before your very eyes? What would’ve happened had that attack been on your small village instead of the Shiganshina district? How would you have protected your own?

So with those thoughts in mind, you joined the training corps. Your parents had disagreed with broken hearts, knowing the likely fate of your choices. Your mother had insisted that you were of ripe marrying age, and that they had no other children to carry your family name. They begged and pleaded for you to settle down and find a husband, to help humanity in a different way by bearing children. You knew this was just a fantasy, and you knew it would be entirely possible that if you were to follow their wishes, the family you would create would be devoured and destroyed. This was the only way you could help, no matter your age or being in your reproductive prime. You needed to slaughter the titans, one by one until none remained. You kissed your beloved family goodbye the day you left for training, and you frequently sent them letters to let them know you were well and alive. One day, they all were returned back to you as you sat in the barracks, and one of the captains informed you that your village was destroyed, your parents and friends from home all dead.

You thought of them as you sliced through a five meter titan’s nape in Trost, your first kill. The citizens of the district ran stampeding in retreat, and caught up in the heat of it all, you had failed to account for the seven meter barreling behind you. When it’s burning fingers wrapped around your body, you sobbed, preparing to meet your family in the afterlife, whatever that would look like. You could feel the hot spats of drool hit your cheeks as the titan opened its mouth, bearing teeth and a cruel grin, and then suddenly, you were flying, caught in the arms of a savior. You stared in disbelief at the cut off fingers on the graveled stone of the street, to only be brought out of this state as Mikasa held you close and questioned if you were alright.

After the dust settled and the casualties were counted, you could feel a fire blazing deep within you. You never wanted to be vulnerable like that ever again, you wanted to be strong like Mikasa. Then, you met Captain Levi. You didn’t know much about him, but his reputation spoke volumes. You wanted the strength of the Ackermans whom you so deeply admired. You begged Commander Erwin to be assigned to Levi’s squad, and your wish was granted. You had been in the top rankings of your class, and you had a solo kill under your belt, aside from the near fatal clutch of another titan. Most of all, you had survived, a bigger feat than most of your comrades.

“Oi, you done daydreaming?” Levi’s cool voice brought you out of your train of thoughts as you arrived outside a wooden door, presumably his temporary living space.

“Sorry, just thinking,” you mumbled as he opened the door.

“Didn’t think you were capable of that. All the supplies are in the box on my desk, I want this room spotless, I don’t care how long it takes,” your captain grumbled as he made strides to his desk in the center of the room.

The room was fairly large, a double bed pressed against the left wall and the dark wooden desk was littered in paperwork. Half filled bookshelves lined the right wall, some mismatched couches and chairs filled the empty space. Honestly, the space was nearly perfect, even the bed was made. You knew better than to point this out to your superior though, so you had simply nodded and began to sort through the various cleaning supplies.

The scratch of Levi’s pen filled the hour long silence as you worked, dusting every surface and wiping it down with disinfectant spray and an old rag. After sweeping thoroughly, you flickered your eyes to the single window in the entire room, surprised completely as the sun had nearly set. The two of you were probably going to miss dinner, you realized as Levi poked his head up from the pile of papers he was concentrated on, a clear look of distaste on his features.

“This is what you call clean?” he spat, running a hand through his bangs. “Mop the floors, cadet.”

You sighed, feeling the subtle growl of hunger in the pit of your stomach. The mop laid in the left corner by the bedroom door, where you had found the broom. You swapped the two, picking up a bucket on the floor. You filled the wooden container with disinfectant, not seeing any polish in the box Levi had provided. He only rolled his eyes at seeing this, but said nothing. At least the floor would be clean.

Levi had lit a few lamps around the room to provide lighting as the sun dipped lower in the sky, swallowing the room in darkness. The floor was sparkling as you finished the last spot, a feeling of satisfaction filling your chest.

“Better?” you interrupted his concentration. He gazed around the room silently, face blank.

“Much,” Levi finally spoke. “That’ll be all, cadet.”

You smiled, setting the cleaning supplies back to their original locations, “Do you want me to bring you anything? I’m going down to grab dinner.”

Levi’s eyes widened at the question, not expecting your offer, “Some tea would be fine. Don’t fuck it up either, brat.”

You nodded as he dismissed you, and you treaded down the stairwell from the second floor to the kitchens. Some of the other cadets littered the dining hall as you passed, seeing some of your comrades laughing at a table, but you paid them no mind. In the kitchen there was hardly any leftover food from the dinner, scraps of potatoes sat in a large bowl on one of the counterspaces. You sighed, scarfing down whatever was available while you set a rusted kettle to a flame. The water was boiled within minutes, and you poured it over tea leaves in two teacups. You cleaned up your mess, and made your way back to Levi’s room.

You knocked twice on the door, hearing his grunt to signal you to enter. Levi was still positioned in his chair at his desk, head in his hands as he scanned over his documents. You placed his cup down silently, ready to leave the man to his work.

“Why are you here, cadet?” your captain called out as you went to open the door.

You turned your head to look at him, his eyes never leaving the words of his papers, “What do you mean, captain?”

“The Survey Corps,” he clarified, finally making eye contact. “Why?”

“To save humanity, sir?” you didn’t mean to speak as if you were questioning him, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He scoffed, setting his paperwork aside, “Humanity, huh? You’re a bit too old to be in the graduating class you’re currently in. Why join now?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused,” your body was facing his entirely now. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he more so mumbled to himself. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be pregnant with your first born, with a husband. Instead, you’re here, trying to fight titans.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” your voice was laced with controlled anger. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Levi continued, ignoring your question. “You could’ve picked the easy way.”

“It would’ve been in vain. My village was wiped out shortly after Wall Maria fell.”

He hummed, his hands coming down to rest on the wooden notches of his desk, papers forgotten, “You were in the top ranks. You could’ve joined the military police.”

“And hear how my comrades died instead of helping them?” you gawked.

“It’s a lot better than watching.”

You shut your mouth then, lips pressing tightly together. You didn’t understand why your captain was questioning you like this.

“I see the way you are with them,” his tone softened, not looking you in the eyes as he spoke. “How you all are.”

“Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’ll forget the purpose of the scouts,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. “I have my own ass to account for.”

Levi pushed off his chair suddenly, scraping the just mopped floor and jolting up to his legs, “You have no idea what it’s like out there. Your friends are going to die, cadet. There’ll be nothing you can do to save them. Are you prepared for that? Collecting their bodies, or whatever’s left of them to take home to their families?”

Your mouth went dry, jaw slacking, “Captain, I know what loss feels like. My family is dead, some of my so called ‘friends’ died in Trost. I know what I signed up for.”

He scoffed, circling around his desk to stand a few feet away from you, “Haven’t you seen enough?”

“Are you trying to get me to quit the Survey Corps?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes. You don’t belong here,” his tone was rough as he spat at you. “Go find a husband. Get the fuck out of the military.”

“I don’t want to,” your anger simmered as you stared down at your boots. “I don’t have a home to go back to. I can’t leave. I know the other cadets aren’t my friends. I’m just trying to make the best out of my life before I die. I know I’m going to die. What’s so wrong about trying to find comfort in others?”

“You are a fool,” he seethed, teeth clenched. “You want to die?”

You shook your head, not bothering to keep the conversation going, “I’m going to bed, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow for the mission.”

“I didn’t dismiss you, cadet,” Levi towered over you now as your hand wrapped around the doorknob.

You brought your fist up to your chest in a salute as you began to exit, “With absolutely no disrespect, I’m exhausted. Have a good night, Captain.”

You pushed the door shut in front of you as you stood in the hallway. You knew you would be getting an ear full from Levi in the morning, but honestly, the conversation was beginning to stir up feelings you’d rather not address. Intrusive thoughts filled your mind as you made your way to the first floor where your temporary bedroom resided.

You couldn’t answer Levi’s question because in a way, in a very selfish train of thought, you didn’t want to be a part of the titan’s world anymore, whether that meant death or something else. How easy it would be for you to greedily pack your things and leave the military and take refuge in some random village to live out the rest of your days, however long they would be. Or to just simply become fodder for the titans in your quest to rid the world of their reign.

Your uniform was folded on your bedside table, a cotton shirt and shorts on your body as you sat on your bed over the covers. You could hear the soft snores of Christa as she slumbered peacefully in the bed across the room, and you gazed over her body under her covers. You knew the people you trained with, fought with, grew fond of, were not your friends. How could they be? It’d only make things harder in the end. Like Levi had said, you might be the one collecting their deceased bodies after a battle. How could you ever grow close to someone that you knew their days were numbered?

The 104th cadets were your comrades, not your makeshift family. You had to remind yourself of that every time Sasha would ask for your leftovers, batting her big eyes at you. When Eren would spar with you, telling you how strong you were and commending you on how far you had come since the first day of the Training Corps. How Mikasa literally saved your life, and how you had admired her ever since. Armin’s unmatched potential and growth. Jean’s relentless taunting, giving you the nickname of gram because of your age. Connie, well frankly, just being Connie. Reiner and Bertholdt’s strong will and passion. Annie’s unwavering willpower and prowess. All the other cadets who you’d gotten to know so well, you had to constantly imagine their corpses as they smiled at you and tried to get to know you. So, you stayed back, opting to be alone at any opportunity, so their deaths would be easier to swallow when the time came.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head to try and rid yourself of your thoughts. It was of no use, and with a sigh you pushed yourself out of your bed. You deemed it would be yet again another sleepless night, and you realized sadly you had left your tea cup in Levi’s office completely untouched. You didn’t bother to entertain the thought of going back to retrieve it, instead you slinked through your bedroom door and out of the headquarters.

The night air was chilly, and you felt regret for not grabbing your jacket on your way out. The moon was gone, a completely black night, and you could see the stars crystal clear. The sky was your favorite sight, especially on nights like this.

You found a nice patch of soft grass, and laid on your back to gaze up at the sky. This was always your comfort, even as a child, to go outside and watch the sky, day or night. Your mother would warn you that your eyes would fall out of your head if you stared too long at the sun, at the moon. You didn’t care, because in those moments you felt so free. Free of the walls that caged you inside, of the world around you. You were the clouds, the stars, the wind as it rolled past. Maybe you were never meant to be human, you mused. You were meant to be nature, never to experience the trials and tribulations of sentinel living. You were supposed to be free, all knowing and ignorant at the same time, existing without the weight of consciousness.

“Thought you were going to bed, cadet?”

You were startled by the boom of a familiar voice behind you, collecting yourself and clearing your throat, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Levi’s head bobbed into your field of vision, “Thought too hard today?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling guilty as you caught the action afterwards and hoped your captain wouldn’t find it as a disrespect, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why are you out here of all places, without a jacket?” out of the corner of your eye you watched as Levi brought himself down to sit next to you.

“I like watching the sky,” you put simply, trying not to make eye contact. “Makes me feel better.”

“About dying?” he said, and you knew that he wouldn’t let your previous conversation go. You decided to humor him, if only to get these thoughts out of your mind.

“Yes.”

“Like what?” he almost sounded uninterested, but from his line of questioning you knew he was anything but.

“I don’t want to die,” you admitted, digging your fingernails into the grass by your waist. “I don’t want to watch anyone die. I never wanted to join the military. I felt like I had no choice.”

“We always have a choice,” he leaned his back to see whatever had your attention draw above you.

“Either fight the titans or get eaten alive when they attack the walls?” you snorted. “What a hard decision to make.”

“Why’d you join the Survey Corps?” he asked once again.

“I didn’t want my family’s death to be in vain. I had cousins, aunts and uncles in Shiganshina.”

“What about your death?”

“I hope it’ll mean something,” you breathed, feeling your chest get tight. “I hope this all will mean something.”

Levi looked at you then, a glimmer of something you couldn’t identify in his eyes, “You sound like Erwin when you talk like that.”

You made eye contact, a small smile on your lips, “The Commander’s an amazing man. I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Levi scoffed, “Take it as you will.”

“What else could I do? I’m trying so hard to make a difference, to make life easier for others so they don’t have to suffer this fate. Isn’t that why we all joined the Survey Corps?” you continued your train of thought. “Maybe we all have a death wish. Fuck, I know I have one. It all just fucking hurts, Captain. I can’t help but think of others all the time, of all the loss and the grief they've gone through, what I’ve been through. At what will keep happening until all the titans are gone for good.”

“Why the sky?” he changed the subject, seemingly bored of your repetitive narrative.

“Because there’s no titans up there,” you joked without humor. “There’s no walls, no boundaries, no rules. It’s never ending. Where are the stars? How does day and night occur? Where does the moon go when the sun’s out? It amazes me, that’s all. Makes me think of how big the world is, of what’s out there besides this.”

“You think too much for a brainless brat,” Levi grumbled, laying on his back and joining you.

“I know,” you chuckled, turning your body to face him. “Wish I could turn off all my thoughts, it would probably make life a whole lot more livable.”

He hummed, eyes drawn in to your face, “I understand. What you said earlier, too, about finding comfort in others.”

“What do you mean?” you propped your head on your hand and you positioned your elbow to support you.

“I guess I never thought about it before tonight,” he blinked, expression unreadable. “Life as a soldier isn’t a comforting one. I guess that’s what I was trying to tell you about.”

You read between the lines of his words, recognizing it as his form of an apology, “I know. But it’s still the life I chose. At least I’m trying to make a difference, we all are.”

“Y’know, I’ve been paying attention to you for some time now. I didn’t understand when Erwin came to me and told me you had asked to be put on my squad. I took a look in your file, and I saw you after the attack on Trost, and I still didn’t understand,” Levi spoke slowly. “I don’t think I get you at all, even now.”

“I don’t think I understand myself,” you laughed dryly, returning your attention to the sky.

“You should get some sleep, cadet,” he advised softly, pushing himself off the ground. “And for fuck’s sake do it soon, I won’t be taking care of your ass if you get a cold.”

Levi stalked off before you could utter a response. You sighed, and decided his words were wise enough to follow. A few moments after your captain had left you, you followed his pathway back to the entrance of the former headquarters. You entered, making a hasty retreat back to your room where Christa was still knocked out cold.

Under your covers, you replayed your conversations with Levi. You still couldn’t figure out why he had questioned you like he had, why he even cared in the first place. Maybe it was his own gnawing curiosity, trying to understand why some random twenty-something year old girl insisted on being in his squad like you had. Maybe, you thought egotistically, you had your own reputation. You inwardly snorted, probably not.

Images of your captain under the moonlight played beneath your eyelids as you finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The mission had gone horribly wrong. At least for you, to be honest you had no idea where the rest of your comrades were as you raced on your horse, desperately searching the sky for flares. You hadn’t seen a single one in a while now, at least ten minutes, and your heart was thudding hard as thoughts that the entire fleet of soldiers you had joined had been decimated. You were completely alone, the walls distant behind you. All you knew is that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn around or else you’d really be lost.

The 104th had stayed behind at the former headquarters, this having been a smaller expedition to clear out some titans before the planned 57th expedition in a few weeks. Levi, Oluo, Petra, and Gunther, as well as a few other squads accompanying you, were in a near perfect formation when an abnormal titan had broken through, killing a few unnamed soldiers at your side that you had never met before today.

In the far left distance, you could see a large forest full of trees. Your jaw slacked open, relief running through your veins when you caught sight of some men on horses heading that direction. Green flares shot up high in the sky, and you pulled the reins of your mare to follow. Your plan was brought to a screeching halt though, as you heard the thunderous footsteps shake your horse, and your body. You threw a glance behind your shoulder, a ten meter titan running straight towards you. You reached to your side quickly, shooting a red flare above you to warn any close by comrades.

The titan was gaining speed, about a dozen yards now behind you. You really wanted to avoid confrontation was much as possible, but as those yards closed between you and the titan, you growled and prepared yourself. You gave your horse a soft pat on her neck, and heaved yourself to stand on the saddle. You gaged your surroundings, seeing complete flat plains all around you, not an ideal situation for fighting at all.

Your odm gear shot you straight to the titan’s legs, a plan instilled in your head on the best way to take it down. It was fairly thin and muscular, but you decided it was just a plain titan as it dumbly stared at you with its wicked grin. Your dual blades locked in your hands now, you swung behind the titan and sliced through its ankles. The ten meter fell swiftly, giving you the perfect opportunity to land on its nape and kill it. It stilled completely beneath you after your swift cuts, and you ran as fast as your body willed you to rejoin your mare.

You placed your fingers to your lips, whistling as loud as you could. Your horse, at least 100 feet away, perked its ears and turned at a rapid speed straight back to you. She neighed as she reached your form, and you hauled yourself back on her saddle, kicking your legs for her to break into a full gallop to where the green flares still lingered in the air.

You didn’t bother to signal another flare in the air, seeing no other flares around you. As you neared closer to the forest, you felt incredibly relieved at the sight of your squad, now able to make out their faces. Petra waved her hands high in the air, about 20 feet away now. You saw Oluo, Gunther, and Levi, unharmed, as you got closer, bringing your horse down to a slightly slower gait, seeing no titans around.

“Are you okay?” Petra shouted at you once you reached the group. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay!” you spoke as fast as you could. “The other cadets I was with were killed by an abnormal, I got split up from them.”

“What was that red flare?” Oluo questioned, worry riddled in his eyes.

“It’s fine, I killed it,” you breathed shakily. “Where are the others?”

“Retreating back to the walls,” Levi answered, voice hard and commanding. “We’re out of blades, and there've been too many casualties. The others have the deceased’s bodies.”

You and your squad nodded, and with no further delay, you broke your horses into a full sprint back to the walls. The sun hung low in the sky, sunset merely a few hours away. Now in a formation in the clear open plains, you noticed out of the corner of your eye some movement.

“Abnormal titan to the right!” you screamed, turning your head to watch the titan’s arms flail, running in an irregular pattern.

“Holy fuck,” Gunther’s eyes widened in horror, shooting a black flare into the sky. “That’s got to be a 15 meter!”

“Don’t engage!” Levi barked, eyes trained straight ahead at the walls. “Keep an eye on it!”

“Sir!” the four of you quipped.

It seemed the abnormal titan had other plans as it caught sight of the five of you, its pace changing with intentions.

“It’s heading straight towards us!” Petra called out, flickering her eyes between the running titan and your captain. “Orders, Captain?”

Levi kept silent, much to your horrors. It was only a few yards away now, speed not slowing. Levi’s attention was completely ahead, the walls almost in full view. You were so close, not close enough though and the abnormal titan’s legs moved faster.

“Captain Levi!” Oluo shouted, eyebrows shot into his hairline.

The titan was less than three yards away when Levi finally spoke, “Petra, Oluo, make it fast!”

You shot off your horse before Levi’s lips opened, his commands unheard by you. Your odm ropes attached right into the titan’s ankles, just like how you had done before. There’s a reason they called it an abnormal titan though you discovered as its fingers closed around the wiring of your gear, yanking the ropes out of its skin and hauling your body up.

You squirmed, mashing your buttons desperately to get your hooks out of its fist as you were brought to the titan’s mouth. It was an ugly son of a bitch, teeth on full display in its evil smile. You couldn’t believe how badly you had fucked up again, the titan’s other hand gaining momentum as it lifted to wrap its disgusting meaty fingers around you. You watched as the fingers were sliced off before they could reach you, and suddenly you were free falling as the hand holding your odm ropes fell from its arm. You redirected yourself back to its ankles, back to your original plan of taking out the nerves to allow the titan to fall, your nerves entirely shot, your adrenaline in full control.

Levi had both his swords drawn as he met you at the back of the 15 meter’s legs, “Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed? You should’ve let the others handle it!”

“I thought I had it, Captain!” you curtly shouted, cutting through the tendons and getting sprayed with steaming blood. The titan did not falter though, but thankfully you and Levi had created a useful diversion as Petra, and Oluo took out the titan’s nape. You and your group shot back to your horses as the titan fell from its height, dead on impact.

The opening of the gate of Wall Rose was a fucking blessing, and your squad couldn’t have ran through it any faster. You heard the roaring of the gate as it closed behind you, and you were choking on shallow breaths as you slowed your mare’s gait.

None of you spoke a single word as you returned to the former headquarters, exhausted after the adrenaline of your mission wore off. You returned your horses to the stables, where feed and water awaited them. Your squad practically ran off, and you were confused until you saw the pissed off look of your superior aimed directly at you. Gulping down spit, you turned on your heel, ready to take off.

Levi’s arm shot out around your bicep, harshly tugging you to stop your escape, “Are you a fucking idiot, cadet? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I thought I could take out the titan by its ankles!” you defended quickly, gritting your teeth as his fingers dug into your clothed arm. “It’s how I took out the other titan I killed, Captain!”

“You better learn quickly that all titans are not the same! Or did you not learn that in training?” Levi growled out between clenched teeth.

“I thought I could take it out,” you grumbled, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You betrayed my orders. You listen to me and my commands, cadet,” he spat out, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes burning holes into yours. “Remember your place.”

You pivoted yourself away from your captain, trotting ahead to head inside the headquarters, voice laced with malice as you grumbled, “I’ll do as I see fit.”

This would be the second time Levi hadn’t dismissed you before leaving him behind, you realized as you arrived at the communal bathroom. You sighed heavily, leaning back against the closed door, completely alone. Thankfully, it was very late in the evening, and if your comrades weren’t in bed already, they would be heading to sleep soon. You were so relieved to get some much needed alone time, especially now that you had such a terrible day.

You changed out of your blood soaked uniform, not bothering to fold it as you laid the clothes on the floor. Stark naked, you began to fill the bathtub basin with running water, a very rare luxury due to the previous care when the headquarters was up and running. With the porcelain half filled, the water steaming, you sunk your aching body into the scalding bath. The water turned a deep pink as you scrubbed your skin with a rag that had been resting over the rim. You untied your hair and dipped your head back, threading your fingers through your knots after generously coating the strands with soap. You drained the dirty water, refilling it back up now that most of the dirt and blood had been washed away. The tub held a pastel pink hue now, but you felt much cleaner and you sunk back in the tub, stretching out as much as you could.

You didn’t dare close your eyes for too long, picturing the events of today. You didn’t try to reflect on the lives that had been lost on today’s mission, the strangers you never had the pleasure, or perhaps displeasure, of getting to know. It made it easier in a sense to forget, to keep pushing forward. Still, the gore and the cruelty of what being a part of the scouts was truly about haunted the corners of your mind as you absentmindedly rubbed soap along your limbs. Maybe you were trying to wash away these memories, too.

Half an hour later, you decided it was time to dry off and get into comfortable clothing as the water cooled and your skin had pruned. You unplugged the drain, standing and reaching for a towel. Wrapping the fabric around your chest, you stepped out of the tub, feet leaving wet prints on the floor as you treaded to your bedroom, soiled clothes in hand.

An oversized white long sleeve hung off your frame, accompanied by your favorite cotton shorts as you sat on your bed, completely alone. Christa had briefly mentioned before your mission this morning that she’d be spending the night with Ymir, to which you were inwardly grateful for the promise of solidarity. As you sat hunched over, you found yourself longing for the comforting presence of someone, anyone, to distract you from the images that plagued your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

You jerked with a start as you pictured the angry face of your captain, feeling immense guilt pool in your gut. You had never spoken so much with Levi before yesterday, realizing the weight of your words and actions, reckless and undermining his authority. Maybe you owed him an apology, for if nothing else to at least calm your mind enough for sleep.

You didn’t remember the walk when you had arrived outside the captain’s door, or could recall if you had knocked before it swung open, revealing Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, nervously tugging at your sleeves as you avoided eye contact. “I’ve been disrespectful, Captain, and I’m sorry.”

“Cadet,” his teeth clenched tightly. “Do you understand what time it is?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whimpered, legs ready for a moment's notice of a retreat. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave—“

Levi’s hand shot out to circle your wrist, and you finally looked up into his charcoal eyes, “Don’t, come in.”

You couldn’t protest as you guided you into his room, shutting the door behind you after you passed the entry. Levi was dressed casually, beige cotton shirt hanging off his torso, plain grey pants on his lower half. The bags under his eyes told you he had also not been able to fall asleep. He led you to sit on his neatly made bed, towering over you with his arms tightly crossed.

“I was on my way to check on you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

“You didn’t knock,” Levi clarified, looking anywhere but at you. “I was already at the door. You’d seen a lot today. I don’t need my soldiers having breakdowns after every mission.”

He was worried about you, your breath halted in your throat.

“Oh,” you dumbly said.

“Seems like you did me a favor by coming here,” he mused, sighing as he ran a hand through his bangs. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Thinking, again, about everything,” you crossed your thighs, body language signally how uncomfortable you were upon talking about these feelings.

“Your brain is going to cause you more grief if you don’t stop,” Levi’s spare hand grasped your chin gently, bringing your head up so you could look him in the eyes. “Why do you insist on being alone with these thoughts?”

“Captain, weren’t you just saying it’s a bad idea to have friends?” you could feel the pounding of your heart in your chest at his gesture, unsure of his intentions.

“Weren't you just talking about finding comfort in others?” Levi leaned down, you felt his breath against your lips as he spoke. “I’ve been paying attention to you for awhile, cadet.”

“You looked in my file, you told me already,” you whispered, unsure that if you spoke at full volume your voice wouldn’t quiver.

“No, I’ve been watching you. You’re not exactly quiet when you sneak out at night, y’know. I’ve seen you,” he hesitated briefly before continuing. “I’ve watched you cry all alone, how you try to distance yourself from the others. I was testing you yesterday, brat. I think I understand now, though.”

Your captain crouched down to meet you at eye level, fingertips never straying from your chin, and you felt your lip quiver as he rasped, “I understand, because I get it. You’ve always felt alone, haven't you?”

You nodded, scared to voice the truth, he continued, “I’m not going to explain myself to you, and if I hear a single word spoken about any of our conversations, I will personally sign your extermination paperwork. You’re different, you’re not like the others. You know what grief is, what pain and loss feels like. Your mission, your goals, it keeps driving you forward. Who couldn’t notice that?”

Levi scoffed, and you managed out a tiny, “Captain Levi.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you telling me this?” you could feel the harsh prick of tears try to escape your eyes, blinking furiously to not allow them to fall.

“Because,” he brushed back your hair behind your ear with his spare hand. “We’re exactly the same, and I can’t allow you to continue living like this, knowing where you’ll end up. Are you a virgin, cadet?”

“Yes,” you stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I am too,” Levi confessed, his eyes baring his soul. “I’m in my thirties, and I’ve never taken a woman to bed. All because of my mission.”

“My parents raised me to save myself for marriage,” your lips hung open. “But, they’re dead now, and I’ll probably never be married.”

“Cadet?” Levi’s hand came up from your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. “You talk about choices, you told me about how you never followed the path set for you. Why don’t you allow yourself some peace, some comfort? If not for yourself, for others, for your fellow comrades?”

“Are you asking to fuck me, sir?” your body felt heavy, uncomfortably numb but you couldn’t will yourself to move an inch, your mind was frazzled.

“I’m asking for permission to comfort you, both of us. I’m tired of being alone, aren’t you?” his face had fallen completely, and you were in awe of how open and raw Levi was.

You didn’t answer him, instead pushing his hands off of your face to capture his cheeks in your own hands, forcing your lips together. Fuck the world, fuck the titans, fuck every single thing that dared to bother you and your existence. You were tired, tired of denying yourself pleasures and comfort and basic human interaction. Who cared if you all died? Would it be for naught that you had never gotten to know your comrades? What would be the point in dying for your military if you didn’t have a motivation, a passion driving you? You were so fucking lonely, and Levi was too as he crashed his lips against yours, wrapping his long arms around your back to hold you closer.

You felt the older ravenette pull away for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head to reveal his scarred and muscular chest. You ran your fingers over his middle slowly, taking in every dip and every flex of his body. Levi was beautiful, and you felt honored that you were here in this moment, with a man who had heard more of your thoughts and feelings than any person before. He stopped your hands as they came to his pecks, pushing your arms high to remove your own shirt.

Your nipples hardened meeting the cold air, exposed now in the dim candle light. You didn’t dare cover yourself, nor did Levi let you get the chance. His hands were all over your chest within an instant, caressing and groping as his lips met yours once again. You hadn’t bothered to tell Levi that he was your first kiss, the first man to see you naked, the first man who had shown genuine interest in you and your body. Maybe you’d tell him later, but for now, you just wanted to quell the thoughts swarming your mind.

You stood quickly, maneuvering your lips to the side of his exposed neck. Your kisses were sweet, innocent and pure as Levi began to pull your shorts off, your panties accompanying the fabric. You kicked out of them as Levi grabbed the back of your head, groaning as he slammed your mouths together once more in an open kiss.

Your hands were everywhere on his skin, trying desperately to remember every single detail, knowing that this would most likely be a one time thing. You knew the risks of becoming entangled in a romantic relationship in the military, more so the scouts. Levi or you, or anyone, could die at any moment. This only motivated you further in your desire, ripping down his pants, mildly surprised to see your captain not wearing any underpants.

Levi breathily mumbled as he grasped your waist and led you flat on your back atop his bed, “I thought you were dead today.”

“I’m not, and neither are you,” you hushed his spoken thoughts with another passionate kiss. He tasted minty from his tea, smelled of woodsy musk from his obvious earlier shower, his touch so soft as he grazed your body up and down.

You felt his knees between your legs as he loomed over you, pushing apart your thighs at the force. His right hand stroked your cheek as his tongue prodded past your willing lips, swollen from his attention. His left hand ventured south, resting upon the curve of your hip, digging his fingers to feel the supple flesh.

“You’re quite beautiful, y’know,” he mirrored your earlier ministrations, placing sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “One of the reasons I was so fascinated by you, I couldn’t understand how you weren’t married.”

“Maybe in another life,” you simply put, attention drawn to how sinful his lips felt against your flushed skin. He sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, and a whimper left your lips at the contact. You could feel your center slicken, cold air consuming all of your exposed skin. Levi’s hand dared closer and closer to your desire, and you made out the distinguished poke of his manhood against your lower stomach.

When his fingertips nudged against your folds, Levi let out a groan of pleasure, “You’re so wet, cadet. I’ve barely touched you.”

“Captain, I need this,” you begged, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him flush against you. “Please, distract me, make me forget.”

Levi felt no need to answer your pleads, instead allowing his fingers to familiarize himself with your most intimate of parts. His eyes stayed trained on yours, taking in every expression you made, one catching his focus immediately as his pointer finger circled the top of your folds. It felt like a button, and you started moaning desperately as he continued his circling.

“Feels good?” your captain asked, insecurity in the back of his mind.

“Yes,” you took your right hand away from Levi’s neck, grabbing his wrist that was in between your legs, dipping his fingers to your dripping entrance. “Need you here.”

He plunged his pointer and middle fingers in, and your velveteen walls clenched around him. You had pleasured yourself many times just like this, but the heightened pleasure of someone else’s knuckles deep inside you was incredible. No one had ever touched you like this before, looked at you so lovingly and so lustfully. His fingers scissored inside you, and you knew your patience would soon snap.

When Levi’s fingers curled upwards, you thought you were going to pass out. Your eyes screwed shut as loud mewls left your lips, Levi’s free hand covering your mouth. Your hips bucked upwards in his touch, hips rolling fast as your clit caught the fat of his palm. You could feel the familiar bubble of your climax, threatening to spill over as you arched your back.

Levi pulled his fingers from your weeping cunt then, so agonizingly slowly, “No, cadet. Not yet.”

You whined, pressure settling down in your abdomen as Levi took his soaking hand to his hard cock. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t paid attention to his girth before, he was gorgeous. All the hard work and all the violence had sculpted your captain as if he were a statue. His length stood at full attention, pressed against his belly, his balls hanging in the free space between his thick thighs. You moaned at the sight of Levi stroking himself, seeing the glisten of your arousal coat him. He let out a strangled groan, before letting himself go, falling unceremoniously to capture your lips once again.

“You ready?” Levi asked permission, his kiss so sweet and tender, and you realized then the weight of all of this. You were about to lose your virginities to each other, he would forever hold a mark on you.

You smiled, so full of adoration, there wasn’t anyone else you’d rather be with right now as you spoke, “Yes, sir.”

Levi gripped the base of his dick, bumping the engorged head against your sensitive clit and through your folds as he coated himself more in your essence. You both knew this was going to hurt you, and had either of you not been in such a hurry, you’d take the time to mutually pleasure each other until your bodies were truly ready for this intimate act. There were no coherent thoughts in this moment, only pure passion and animalistic desire.

His tip sunk in, and you felt like you were going to be split in half. Your hands shot up to his arms, nails leaving half crescents on his biceps, your ankles hooking together on his ass as you tensed up at the pain.

“Relax,” he kissed your jaw with a groan. “Gonna’ take care of you.”

You nodded, focusing on his words instead of the pain. Your pelvic floor relaxed, and Levi was able to push himself deeper into your cavern.

“There’s no blood?” Levi questioned you curiously as he glanced down to where your bodies met, not moving even a centimeter to allow you to adjust.

The pain was quickly fading as you mumbled, “Probably broke my hymen on a goddamn horse.”

You both let out a breathy laugh, and Levi’s right hand came to stroke your cheek, pushing back your hair out of your face, “I’ll have to kill that horse then.”

You were rattling your brain for a witty response to your captain when Levi shifted, stroking his length backwards as your walls fluttered around him. Your face was no longer scrunched in pain, your eyebrows unfurrowed and your mouth hung open, feeling nothing but pleasure as his left hand shot to your pulsing pussy, thumbing your clit with the lightest of touches.

“Captain,” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” he pushed his forehead to yours, his own eyes closing as he pushed his cock back into your depths, so slowly.

You placed a gentle kiss to his lips for a brief moment, neck craning off the pillow under your head. You felt a cramp as he kissed you back, so gently and so softly. You moved your mouth to his jaw, peppering kisses along any exposed skin you reach.

His right hand stayed positioned to your face, his grey colored orbs opened, focusing on your face. You looked up then, and felt your heart hammering in your chest. Levi was so handsome, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes softened without the weight of reality crashing down on him.

“I’m glad it’s you,” your arms were still wrapped around his neck as you rubbed soft circles along the ridge of his undercut. His hips held such a passionate, steady rhythm as he continued plunging into you.

Levi didn’t respond, his hand angling your face to his again. Although unspoken, you could see in his face that he appreciated your words, his thrusts faster in pace now. You couldn’t stop the moans from exiting your throat, volume increasing as his thumb worked you with more pressure. He swallowed your noises with his lips, not even kissing, the two of you just breathing into one another’s mouth.

Suddenly the distance wasn’t close enough, Levi’s hand left the curve of your cheek to wrap his arm around the middle of your back, forcing your body completely against his sweating one. His lips began to work against yours, sloppy and messy as you kissed the man back with the same fever.

Levi’s pace was solid, deep and without error. Your hips tried desperately to meet his thrusts, his wrist in between your centers blocking you from doing so. Your captain didn’t even so much as warn you to stop, his thumb rolling faster against your now swollen clit, that same heat in your stomach rebuilding rapidly. The two of you were so lost in each other, your arms leaving his neck to wrap around his shoulders and forcing his head down to your neck where he lapped and peppered kisses to conceal his own moans. You did the same, lips attached to the curve where his muscular shoulder met his neck.

His touch was unrelenting, but you felt the unmistakable shutter as he plunged right to your cervix, goosebumps rising on his skin under your fingertips. You let out a muffled moan, your nails clawing at his back, your legs somehow tighter around his backside.

Levi’s thumb rubbed harder, so much faster now than his thrusts. Your pussy was fluttering rapidly now, clenching and unclenching around his girth, you were so close. You had a feeling your captain was as well, his pace increasing even faster.

“I’m cumming,” you pulled away from his shoulder to warn Levi, sucking the sensitive area of his neck.

Levi moaned in pleasure, bucking his hips hard into you, and this was what sent you over the edge. Levi couldn’t move even if he wanted to as your cunt gripped him so tightly, contracting so hard around his length. You could hear a string of curses and ‘ah’s from his lips as your hips bucked wildly into his hand, rubbing your clit along his stilled thumb. You’d had plenty of self given orgasms before, but feeling completely filled as your walls fluttered around something was a pleasure you knew you’d be seeking again.

Your teeth were sunk into his neck, and Levi was finally able to continue his strokes as your orgasm slowed, your body limping. His thumb started once more, and you were whimpering at the overstimulation, your contractions not even done. He was pounding into you now, growling into your neck, you could feel the sharp clench of his jaw dig into your shoulder. It didn’t take you more than a minute to build up another orgasm, and as the new waves of pleasure slammed into you, Levi was pulling out.

You came around nothing as Levi rutted into your stomach, feeling the smear of hot cum rub against your middles. He was bucking desperately, moaning and whimpering. The sounds he made paired with the nonstop movement of his thumb only heightened your pleasure, your left hand coming to caress the back of his head.

He removed his touch from you, taking his dripping hand to your waist as his thrusts against your stomach slowed. It crawled under your back to meet his other arm, and he placed sensual, slow kisses to your neck. You did the same, thanking him non verbally. His head lifted, eyes half lidded as he placed his lips to yours, locking them in a saccharine embrace. He pulled away after a few moments, sliding off of your sticky body and out of the bed. Your arms fell to your sides, and he slipped his pants on, avoiding the area of his lower stomach where his cum was drying quickly. He rushed to his dresser, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping himself down quickly, returning back to your body to clean your middle as well.

“You’ll probably need to shower,” Levi broke the silence as he pulled the rag away, his empty hand roaming the curve of your side.

“Probably,” you mumbled in bliss, enjoying his light touch. “I’ll get up in just a minute.”

“You could stay,” Levi offered awkwardly, halting his movements.

“It’s okay, I think I want to be alone,” you smiled, your brain foggy. “Also don’t need rumors to start up if anyone sees me leaving your room in the morning.”

Levi only hummed as you pulled your naked body to a full stand, reaching for your discarded clothes. You pulled your long sleeve over your head first, the edges brushing against the tops of your thighs, stepping into your panties and shorts quickly. The silence was almost overwhelming, neither of you sure of what exactly to say.

“Captain Levi,” you finally spoke, ready to depart. “Thank you.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your body to his with no real force, kissing you passionately. You kissed him back hungrily, and had you been more experienced, you would’ve felt the flicker of sparks deep within your stomach, a signal of unconscious feelings sprouting within you.

You pulled away from him, a smile playing at your lips as he spoke raspily, “You know where to go if you don’t want to be alone.”

You threaded your fingers through his open palm, bringing his knuckles to your lips as you placed a soft peck to the back of his hand, “I will, Captain. Goodnight.”

The heat of the sun beat harshly on your back, your body in a full ache as you dodged a punch from Eren. You went to lift your leg into a kick, a yelp leaving your lips at the feeling that you were going to rip in half, and quickly shifted your hips to plan a new attack. Thankfully, your fake out worked, seeing Eren prepare himself for your leg, not for your first to go flying into his gut.

With a loud groan of pain, Eren laid flat on his back in the dirt. Your chests heaved, sweat dripping down your skin, and you extended your palm to the younger boy. You had won this spar, and Eren huffed as he smacked his hand away playfully.

“I had you last time! I can’t believe I lost again!” he complained, eyebrows furrowed as he screwed his eyes shut in a fit.

You laughed then, crossing your arms over your chest, “You got lucky, Jaeger.”

Around the two of you, all the cadets were still in their own sparring matches. Even in your weary state, you had been the first match finished, and you feel a swell of pride. You were getting stronger, more fit to survive the harsh reality of this world.

“Cadets,” Captain Levi made himself known then, stepping forward from the row of squad leaders, unbeknownst to you and Eren he had been watching with a trained eye the entire fight.

“Captain!” you saluted, Eren lazily following along silently.

Levi’s eyes lingered over you for a minute, before shifting his attention to Eren before scoffing, “Pathetic, Jaeger. You need to work on your form.”

You tried desperately to hide a smirk, eyes lit up in amusement as Eren frowned deeply, sighing, trying not to lash out on your superior. Levi continued, “Cadet, good job.”

“Thank you, Captain,” you smiled brightly, now trying to conceal the oncoming heat of your blush flaming up your neck, licking the tips of your ears.

“However, never let your guard down after you think you’ve won.”

The sound of your skull cracking into the ground beneath you sent your vision in a dizzy frenzy. Levi hovered over you, and you could make out the lingering feeling of his boot hitting your stomach, causing you to lay flat on your back. The sun was high in the sky today, not a single cloud in view or whisk of wind felt.

“Ow,” you heaved, bringing yourself into a seated position, hunched over. “What was that for?”

“You can’t always predict what a titan’s next move is going to be,” Levi cooly explained, crouching down to meet your eye level. “This is how you fucked up, both times, with an abnormal. You have to pay attention. You can’t let yourself get caught up in a victory. Understood, brat?”

You nodded, feeling your ears grow hot as multiple sets of eyes watched on in curiosity, “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you in my office after dinner for your punishment,” his eyes twinkled, a hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Cockiness is not befitting for a brat like you.”

You groaned, biting your tongue to hold back words you knew would come across as disrespectful. You didn’t see what you did to deserve a punishment, but you huffed as Levi strolled away, yelling at Eren about something. Probably about his smirk when he watched you fall on your ass.

Turns out your punishment was anything but, instead a much rougher fucking left your body nearly in shambles. This became a routine, instead of traveling outside to stare at the stars and lose yourself in your thoughts, Levi’s body became your comfort, your relief. He felt the same, pouring his loneliness into your willing body as he claimed you night after night, week after week.

He’d tell you sometimes in the afterglow of your orgasms that this was strengthening the squad, this was for the betterment of the scouts. Because what better way was there to build trust? You’d listen half heartedly, knowing this was all an excuse to rationalize why you continued seeking each other’s comfort.

Levi was soon fiercely protective of you, and you unconsciously him. This was reinforced after the 57th expedition failed horribly, the faces of your deceased squad members haunting your dreams every night. Levi would hold you as you sobbed through the nightmares. It hurt, so fucking much. Levi would whisper to you that you just had to keep moving forward. You would nod your head and listen. Your captain knew best, and you were finding it harder every passing day to pretend that he didn’t.

You didn’t try to make sense of your relationship, just letting it exist. Some days you’d push him away, others you’d pull the ravenette closer to your body. Caught between wanting to leave the man you’d realized you’d fallen in love with, or go into hiding away from the military with Levi and marry the son of a bitch. You liked to think he felt the same, his words few, but his acts spoke volumes of his feelings.

And when you laid limp on the battlefield, titan corpses steaming around you, your breaths shallow as your tired body began to prepare to shut down, you smiled. Everything all at once came flooding to you as you stared up at the sky, completely alone.

You blinked at the clouds, painted so pretty in pinks and oranges at the setting sun. You could hear your name being screamed somewhere in the distance, the voice vaguely familiar. You felt relief wash over you as the large open wound on your stomach gushed an unbelievable amount of blood. Full of shock, your adrenaline keeping your pain at bay, you thought humorously that you had no idea you had that much blood running through your body.

Raven hair and charcoal eyes entered your hazy vision, and you kept that smile on your face. Your fingers reached up, reaching Levi’s soaking cheek, not being able to tell if it was because of blood, or tears. You smoothed your thumb under his eye, and you were being lifted. You couldn’t hear his words, only the dullness of sound as the world continued to slow around you.

You stared at the clouds, completely at peace. You had conquered your biggest fear, growing close to another, just to lose them. Images of Levi flashes before your eyes, his stoic expression, his commanding leadership, his sensual caresses, his passionate kisses as he poured all of his feelings out for you. You loved him, you realized. You were so happy that you got to experience this in this lifetime.

The colors of the sky blurred together, and you could feel the wind whisk around you as Levi shot off on his odm gear. You were finally flying in the clouds.

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[dragon-kazansky]

Masquerade at midnight

Gender neutral reader

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: Violence. Things escalate.

♡♡♡

Chapter Nine - Whisked away

'Come to me.'

You look upstairs, listening to it.

'Come to me.'

Tucking the ticket into your pocket, you take slow steps toward the staircase. You place your hand on the bannister and take the first step. Something feels wrong. Perhaps because you can't tell who the voice belongs to, but also because you can't recognise it though it's coming from within the house. Perhaps it's just Mads. David said he was up in his office. Maybe this is some kind of power he had and it sounds strange.

Unsettling wasn't enough to describe how you were feeling right now. When you reached the hall, you could make out that the voice was not coming from the direction of Mads' office. This is when fear set in. Something felt so very wrong.

You look in the direction of the office. The door could just be seen. It was closed. The thought to go and see Mads crossed your mind, and you were about ready to do so when the voice called out again.

'Don't do that. Come this way.'

You turn back in the direction the voice appeared to be coming from and swallowed nervously.

"Who's there?" You ask.

'Come this way.'

You hate the obviously ignoring of your question, but find yourself going the opposite direction of Mads. You really should go and speak to him. Perhaps tell him you're crazy and hearing things. You don't.

The path leads into the opposite side of the house, through to big dark doors. There is nothing notable about them other than they're dark. You stare at the doorknob.

'Come inside.'

Reaching out, you turn the doorknob and half expect it to be locked. You honestly do think you're going mad. Why else would you be doing any of this?

Opening the door, you peer inside. It's dark, but you can make out the furniture within. Everything was covered up though. Everything except what you believed to be a box on the bed. Turning toward to the nearest lamp, you turn it on and let light flood the room. You can see a lot better now, and can confirm a wooden box on the bed.

'Welcome to my chambers.'

"Who are you? What do you want?"

'I want you to open the box.'

You stare at the offending object. You did not trust a single thing about this. You take a step back and think about running for the door. You really should go and get Mads. Before you can even think of turning around to run, the door slams shut behind you and you let out a scream. You were caught off guard by the sound. You run to the door and grasp it, trying so hard to pull it open. It won't budge.

'Open the box.'

You let go of the door and lean against it. You stare at the box.

"No!"

'Open it.'

"No! What do you want? Answer me!"

The voice says nothing for a moment. You almost believe it's gone and that you really were just going mad, but when it speaks again, you know this is actually happening. All of this is real.

'I want you to open the box and come to me.'

Ah right, yes, of course. Why wouldn't you do that?

"Who are you?"

'I think you know.'

You step away from the door, eyes still drawn to the box. You didn't seem to have many choices. You couldn't get out, you couldn't call for help. You were stuck.

Walking over to the bed slowly, you took deep breaths. You had to be brave.

Cracking open the box, you see a pendant sitting on a green felt cushion. You dare not touch it right away. It's nothing outstanding, but it looks old. A silver pendant hanging from a thin bit of rope. Your hand hovers over it.

'Come to me.'

Your fingers grasp around the pendant, lifting it from the cushion. You bring it up closer to your face.

"Do you like it?"

You drop it out of shock and look up. No longer were you in that empty bedroom. Now you were in a small well lit living room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. Sitting on one sofa was an older gentleman looking up at you.

"Uh-"

"Come, sit." He gestures to the other sofa across from him.

Slowly, you pick up the pendant and walk over to where he was sitting. You sit down across from him.

He smiles.

"Jeremy?" You ask.

His eyes seem to light up just by the sound of his name.

"That would be me, yes."

"And this is yours?" You hold the pendant up.

Jeremy nods his head, "yes."

You lowers the pendant to your lap and looked at him.

"How am I here?"

"Just a neat little trick I know. Technically you're still in that room."

"Oh..."

"Now, I've been waiting to speak to you." You nod awkwardly. "A dagger has been stolen from my home. Though I am aware it does belong to you, I not appreciate spies taking things from under my nose."

You drop your gaze. Jeremy shifts in his seat.

"I know who you are."

"Do you?" You ask, quickly.

"I do. I know the intentions Mads has for you. You cannot trust that man."

"No?"

"No. He's using you."

"I agreed to the terms."

"He only cares for his own wellbeing. He will only dispose of you when he's done with you," he says, sternly.

"What do you want?" You ask him.

"I want you to switch sides. Join me. Spy on him. Report back to me. Use the dagger on him. Let his kingdom fall. Help me make Mads Mikkelsen no more."

You shake your head.

"No."

"Don't be a fool now."

You shake your head and stand up, staring down at him.

"You don't have the power to fight him. Mads will find you and he will end you."

"Will he?" Jeremy rises from his seat. "Or will he have you. Will you have the strength to end me if he asks you do it."

You stay silent.

Jeremy stands over you, looking you in the eye. He raises his hands to your shoulders and smiles. His palms feel warm.

"I will not wait for my next move. I am coming to you. I will kill Mads. I will offer you a place amongst my ranks. You will see that just because I'm a lower type vampire, it does not mean I do not have power."

You shake your head again and try to stand back.

"You will not win."

Jeremy grins.

You hear pounding on the door. You turn and look. It's locked. Jeremy still has his hands on your shoulders. You can hear your name being called from the other side of the door. You try to move away from him, but he doesn't let you. The room begins to feel suffocating. You push back at Jeremy and stumble backward. You prepare to hit the ground behind you, closing your eyes expecting an impact, but instead two arms catch you from under your arms.

A voice calls your name in your ear. You open your eyes and see Mads kneeling down in front of you. The pendant you were holding is now gone as you reach out to accept Mads' help. Ben is behind you, he helps steady you.

"Are you alright?"

"What happened?"

They both ask their questions. You focus on steadying your breath and figuring out your surroundings again. You focus back on Mads who looks at you with concern.

"Where did you go?" He asks.

"Jeremy..."

"Jeremy?"

"I was coming to see you. I heard a voice. At first I thought it may have been you, even though it didn't sound like you. I followed it. It asked me to touch the pendant that was in that box. I did. He was there. He was trying to make me believe you were using me, though I had agreed to all of this."

Mads looks at the box on the bed. He stands and turns to it.

"Where is the pendant now?"

"I don't know. Once I realised where I was, it seemed to have gone."

That meant Jeremy had it now. No matter. At least he can't use it against you any more. Mads closes the box and takes it.

"Ben, see to it they are safe. I have some investigating to do."

Ben nods and takes you out of the room. You offer Mads a small smile, in which he returns, as you pass him. You follow Ben back to your room.

Ben closes the door behind him. You sit on the bed.

"Did he hurt you?"

You look up at Ben and shake your head.

"We won't let him harm you."

"I don't think you can stop him. For a weak vampire, he certainly has a lot of power."

Ben sits next to you on the bed. He takes your hand and brings it to his lap, holding it gently.

"I don't care what I have to. I won't let him hurt you. Ever."

You give his hand a squeeze and rest your rest against his shoulder.

"What's that?"

You look up and follow his gaze. He's looking at the ticket David and Michael gave you. You pick it up, not realising you had dropped it. Someone must have found it, leaving it here for you to find.

"A ticket. David and Michael are doing one more show before they give up their roles to help us."

"When is it?"

"Tonight," you say, sighing softly. You lower the ticket into your lap.

"Normally I would suggest staying here and staying safe, so we can keep an eye on you, but would you like to go? With me?"

"Are... Are you asking me on a date, Ben?"

The man grins at you, shrugging a single shoulder. He still has your hand in his. You run your thumb along his and smile softly at him.

"I'd like that."

You feel Ben relax. He lets go of your hand and stands up, grinning like a fool at you.

"Get changed and meet me in the lobby. I need to go speak to our acting duo to get a last minute ticket for myself. I won't be long."

Ben leaves your room and you watch the door close behind him. You chuckle softly and go over to your wardrobe to get changed. You pick out a nice outfit and grab your ticket. Once you're ready, you head down into the main entrance and sit on the bottom stair waiting for Ben. While you're waiting, Benedict come through.

"Off somewhere?" He asks.

"The theatre. David and Michael are doing one last performance."

Benedict smiles at you.

"How odd. I was just about to leave for the show myself. Would you like to come with me?" He asks, making his way over to where you sit.

"They're coming with me. Better luck next time, Oscar."

You look up at the top of the staircase and see Ben making his way down. He's changed into a stylish black suit. You notice the ring on his finger. The thought isn't comforting.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea you two were-"

"We're not!" You stop Benedict's sentence midway. "We're not..."

Benedict close his mouth and winks at you, knowingly.

Ben comes to a stop when he reaches you and offer you his hand. You take it and stand up, thanking him. Benedict takes a step back so you can move from the stairs. Ben keeps a hold of your hand as he leads the ay out of the house. Benedict follows a few steps behind.

The ride to town is quiet. Ben stays that little bit close to you through out the trip.

The car pulls up outside of a huge fancy theatre. There are lights strobing from different points of the building, the name of the play is in huge black letters over the entrance. There are a couple of steps leading up to the huge doors. Crowds of people are making their way inside. You smile at Ben as you both make your way through the doors, Benedict still tailing behind.

The inside is just as magnificent. Red carpets on the floor. Chandelier hanging above your head. Staff were dotted about the room helping people, checking tickets, selling programmes and snacks.

"Programme?" Ben offers.

"Please."

Ben buys one of the booklets and hands it to you. You take it and the three of you make your way over to the theatre hall. A lady checks your tickets and directs you to your seats. Ben and yourself have box seats, being guided upstairs by another staff member. Benedict is guided into the theatre hall from there. You wave as you part from him.

Ben finds the right box number and you both enter, taking your seats. You have a perfect view of stage from here. You cast your eyes down and look for Benedict. There are still many people entering the hall, but you spot him. He takes his seat and gets comfortable, though he looks a bit lonely down there. As if he could feel your gaze, he looks up. You smile and wave. He waves back, smiling too.

"I thought this was a date," Ben states, looking at you with a smug grin.

You turn to him with a deadpan expression.

"Very funny."

"I'm joking. Thank you for letting me come with you, though."

You smile at him.

"I'm glad to have you here with me."

You can't help but look away slightly bashful. During your time with these vampires, you have grown close to them. Each one had become someone rather special to you. It made you wonder what you would do once your job here was done.

After all, you only came to help them. You never said anything beyond that.

The lights dim over the audience as the stage lights up. The curtain begins to lift and the music begins to play. It's showtime. You lean forward in your seat with your eyes on the stage. After everything that happened earlier, you wanted something to help get your mind off it.

Ben watches you curiously. Seeing you sitting there with a smile on your face. Your face lights up when David and Michael come on. While you become invested in the performance, Ben cares little for the show as he watches you. Benedict, unknown to both you and Barnes, is looking up at you from below.

Another pair of eyes watch from across the room. In a box opposite your own, sitting back in the shadows, Jeremy watches you.

If he wants to stand a chance at defeating Mads, without your help, then he has to take you out of the equation.

The plays reaches an intermission. You sit back after act 1 and smile over at Ben.

"It's a shame they're having to stop performing to help us, this play is great so far."

Ben agrees, not showing that he hadn't actually watched any of it. With the theatre lit up again, his eyes are drawn over the audience. Specifically to who he thought he saw leaving the box opposite. You see that his interest is held somewhere and turn to look, seeing nothing.

"What is it?" You ask him.

"Stay here," he says, speaking rather firmly.

Ben gets up and leaves the box. You watch him go, feeling a little disheartened that he left without explanation. You do as you're told and sit there, waiting. Though it isn't long before the door opens again. You stand up and prepare to lay into Ben about why he left, but it's Benedict who stands there.

"We need to go."

"What?"

"It's Jeremy, he's here. We need to go." Benedict holds out his hand. You take it and allow him to lead you out of the theatre. However, you don't get very far. Your path is blocked off by, who you can only assume to be, Jeremy's lackeys. Benedict holds your hand a little tighter as he pushes you behind him.

It's then you realise he is also wearing his ring.

Did they wear them expecting to bump into Jeremy? Did they know he would be here tonight? No, why would they let you come if they did?

"BENEDICT!" You hear. That's Ben's voice. Both of you whip your heads around to see Ben on his knees and Jeremy standing over him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Tonight was an unexpected night," Jeremy says. You keep your eyes on him, still being shielded by Benedict. "Your friends let slip that you were expected here tonight, after our little chat earlier this evening, it became clear where you stood." You did not like the way he was looking at you.

"Leave them alone!" Ben hissed. Jeremy gripped his shoulder tighter, causing Ben rather a lot of pain. You wanted nothing more than to go over there and help him, but Benedict had a good hold on you.

"What do you want?" Benedict asked.

"I think you know."

"The answer is no."

"I'm not asking," Jeremy warns him.

"What if I go willingly?" You ask.

"Your fate will remain the same."

"He will kill you," Benedict warns.

Jeremy glares at Benedict. You don't even notice the lackeys moving in. Benedict tears his gaze away from the man and shoves you harshly away from him. The lackeys leap and Benedict grabs at them. Fangs protrude and long fingernails slash at each other. You back up once your shock wears off and crawl backward.

Watching vampires fight right in front of you was not what you thought it would be. They were aiming to end each other.

Ben goes to leap at Jeremy, but Irons saw this coming and takes a violent swing at Ben. Barnes doesn't get away unscathed. A nasty slash across his face. He cares little for it as he goes again. Jeremy is just as quick to move away.

You have no where to go that's safe. There are lackey's everywhere.

Blood stains the concrete as the vampires lash out. You're scared. You're actually scared. You want to help, but that would most defiantly result in your death.

You go to run. Something grabs you. Stopping you. You want to shout. You don't get to.

Ben lifts himself from where Jeremy knocked him back. He had hit a lamp post, the post now crooked from the force. His eyes land on you. Ben shouts your name, but you're gone before he can even get the first letter out. His eyes threaten to spill tears as stares at the spot Jeremy had grabbed you.

The lackeys disperse, leaving both Ben and Benedict worse for wear.

Benedict rolls over from where he had been pinned to the ground. His eyes land on Ben.

"You shouldn't have them come."

Ben doesn't say anything. He just stares.

As act 2 of the play begins, Benedict gets up and dusts his suit off. He doesn't spare Ben another look as he walks away. Ben doesn't move.

Mads will be furious with him. He never should have let you come tonight.

♡♡♡

@lieutenantn @ntlmundy @ilussionary-forest @that-one-fandom-kid @mischief-siriusly-managed @madhatter2727 @gabrielapoe-16 @baronesszemo-blackwood @valquiria3000 @wannabevampire @ten-tenya-iida @crackedout @rothko-mirror @niceshadeofblue @my-fic-corner @bdffkierenwalker @nezla @bb-skyrunner @dezzylou24 @meganlpie @casi-eternal  @janine-007

[sakusa-simp]

your first fight

request: s/o who’s never gotten mad at them before finally snaps

pairings: oikawa and sakusa

warning(s): angst (not really tho) to fluff

a/n: this is my first time writing something like this, so i hope it’s not too bad

m.list || ask box || nav.

♡︎ TOORU OIKAWA ♡︎

in the several years the two of you have known each other, never once has he seen you angry

sure, you’ve had your moments where you were a bit on the irritated side,

but you had never yelled at him

so, when he came home late for the nth time that week only to be greeted by your extremely pissed off face, he was a little concerned

and more than a little scared

he wasn’t sure if you were mad at him, or someone else

so, he decided to play it safe

completing his nightly routine and going out of his way to stay out of your line of sight

but, unfortunately for him, he couldn’t avoid you forever

it wasn’t until the two of you were climbing into bed that oikawa realized how mad you were

he had leaned over, planning on giving you a kiss goodnight

but, you had swerved out of the way, turning on your side and away from him

naturally, it made him a little upset

and even more confused

but, at the same time, he knew you weren’t very good at expressing your emotions

so, after a moment of silence, he finally spoke up

“did i do something wrong?”

you could hear the hurt in his voice, but you were too upset to care

you turned back around, sitting up in bed and looking down at him

he followed suit, forcing you to make eye contact with him

the two of you sat in silence as you thought through your emotions, trying to figure out the best way to express them

finally, you settled on being honest with him

“you’re always coming home late—” you start, only to be cut off by him

“that’s not my fault! we have a game coming up and we need to be prepared.”

your hands clenched from the built up anger, his words doing nothing to lessen it

“and when you are home, you hardly ever pay attention to me—”

once again, he cuts you off

“well i’m sorry you’re not the only important thing in my life!”

you ignore him, pushing onward

“and iwaizumi says you’ve been overworking yourself—”

“oh, so now you’re asking iwa-chan about me?!”

at this point, you can no longer hold your anger in

you can feel the tears building up behind your eyes and the lump in your throat

and so, before you can stop yourself, you raise your voice for the first time in years

“i’m sorry for being concerned about my boyfriend!”

oikawa flinches back slightly, his eyes widening in shock

it was as if he had finally realized that you were mad at him

while he was busy staring at you in shock, you climbed out of the bed, preparing to find somewhere else to sleep for the night

but, before you could, oikawa reached out, grabbing your wrist lightly

“look, i’m sorry y/n. i shouldn’t have gotten angry at you. i guess i was just a little surprised that you were mad, and that ended up turning into anger. i’ll try and come home earlier from now on and pay more attention to you.”

your gaze softened at his words and you sat yourself back down on the bed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders

“i’m sorry too. it was stupid of me to get mad about something like that. i guess i’ve just been holding in my anger for too long and...well, i blew up a bit.”

oikawa returned your gesture, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him

“there’s nothing wrong with getting mad, y/n. in fact, you should do it more often. yelling at me is much healthier than bottling it up.”

you nod against his shoulder, a warm feeling settling in your chest

if this was how every fight ended, you wouldn’t mind showing your anger more often.

︎♡︎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA ︎♡︎

both you and sakusa had always had a little trouble expressing your emotions

you more so than sakusa

and while sakusa was pretty good at figuring out what you were feeling,

he wasn’t good at talking about your feelings

or his own for that matter

so, when he came home late one night, ready to take a shower before heading to bed,

he was a little upset to see you had prepared a meal for him even though he had told you not to

it wasn’t the meal itself that bothered him, but the fact that he now felt obligated to eat said meal

you invited him to join you at the table, hoping that even though he had previously said no, he would change his mind

but, he didn’t

instead, he sent you an annoyed look

“i told you not to make me anything”

you deflated slightly at his words, your shoulders slumping forward

“yeah, sorry”

and with that, he left you alone to eat by yourself

the next day, he woke up to an empty bed

something that rarely every happened

so, he was confused and concerned

he was also feeling slightly guilty for the way he had treated you last night

and he was planning on apologizing when he saw you

he ended up finding you in the living room, sleeping on the couch with nothing but a thin blanket to cover you

he managed to shake you awake, dragging you from your slumber

however, this might not have been the way idea, seeing as how you were still angry with him

and seeing his face only made it worse

you sat up, sending him a glare that shocked him more than anything

because, frankly, he had never once seen you mad

usually, you were in a constant state of ‘happy, but not too happy’

so seeing your angry face was definitely unsettling

“what?” you hissed out after a minute of silence, crossing your arms across your chest

your words brought up a sense of nervousness in his chest, something he had hardly ever felt before

he had no idea what you were like when you were angry,

so it was a little scary

rubbing his neck softly and turning away from you, he managed to successfully avoid eye contact

“uh, look, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have gotten annoyed with you last night, you were only trying to help”

one glance out of the corner of his eye tells him all he needs to know:

you’re still mad at him

but, you’re not willing to say it

so, you stand up, walking around him and into the kitchen

“yeah, whatever, i’m not mad”

yeah, he’s not dumb

he’s fully aware that you’re still angry with him

“i’m not dumb, you’re obviously mad”

“i’m not”

“you are”

“i’m not”

and this ends up going on for a few minutes before you finally break it by raising your voice

“fine, i’m mad, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?”

“not really”

you send him a glare in response

after that, you make a point of moving around the house in an attempt to get away from him,

but even though he seems to catch on, he keeps following you like a lost puppy

and when that gets to be too much for you, you confront him once again

“don’t you have practice?”

“i’m staying home today”

“why?”

“i’m staying home every day until you forgive me”

“why?” you repeat, still confused

“because you’ve never been mad at me before, so i’m trying to figure out how to earn your forgiveness”

you let out a sigh at that, a small, unwanted smile tugging at your lips

eventually, you shake your head, letting the smile take ︎over

“fine, you’re forgiven. but if you start acting like a jerk again, my forgiveness won’t be so easy to earn”

he easily agreed to your terms, pulling you into a soft hug

“can we go back to bed now? you slept on the couch last night, so now you have to make up for it”

you let out a small laugh at that, following him back to your room

maybe showing your emotions more often wouldn’t be such a bad thing

© sakusa-simp

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nat and the House: Jameson

CW: Pet whump survivor, collar mentions, references to past pet whump, referenced ptsd flashbacks

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

“Okay, well. Here we are.” Nat opens the door for him, swinging back the heavy wood and stepping inside. The sun is warm on his back, but it drops away into a chill as he steps inside. His eyes shift back and forth, trying to bury his curiosity under a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

The house is big, although not as big as Jake Stanton’s. It’s old, and creaky, and feels alive in a way that newer houses don’t. It’s a place that has seen so many lives move through its halls, felt so many hands on doorknobs and walls, that it’s taken in some of each person who has slept here. They’ve left something behind, and it’s the breath inside the house.

It’s the whisper of air against the back of his neck, slightly chilled, that tells him that a hundred voices have bounced off these walls, with their own pain and fear, long before his added to the chorus. 

Jameson swallows, lingering in the doorway and staring ahead at a carpeted staircase that winds up and disappears around a 90-degree turn, at the coat closet just beside it. There’s a built-in shelf on the landing he can see the bottom half of, lined with photographs in small cheap dollar-store frames. 

Off to one side of the entryway, there’s a big double-door-sized opening into a gigantic living room - to the other side, a dining room with a large table covered in boxes, paperwork, books, and some flannels hung from an empty china cabinet, looking still damp, drying. Beyond that, a small kitchen, he can just see the corner of the oven.

This is a house with breath. This is a house with a voice.

The house tastes like a crackling fire, the mix of heated air and chilled, melted marshmallows inside s’mores, the crunch of graham cracker and chocolate bar underneath. 

This is a good house.

“Sorry,” Natalie Yoder says over one shoulder, moving ahead of him to flick a light switch. Jameson flinches, just a little, when a warm yellow bulb inside a false chandelier lights above his head. Her braid thumps against her back, a deep chocolate brown with strips of silvery white running through it. “I haven’t had anyone here in a long time, so the house is a mess. Just me these days.”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. Natalie Yoder has a good voice, too, it’s full and warm, it tastes like hot chocolate, the kind that goes light on the sugar and is just a little bitter and spiced with cinnamon. Her voice feels smooth on his tongue. He can trust people who taste like this, he thinks, and he takes another step inside.

“H-How… how long?” His voice croaks a little, it rasps. Long-term damage to his vocal chords, they said, from screaming so often for so long. 

She stops and looks back at him, and there’s a gentleness in her tempered by the steel he’s already seen. She gives him a slight smile. “Long enough to speak to Dr. Berger, get you on your meds, and give them time to settle in your system. Could be a month or two to figure out exactly what’s going to work for you. Then see what happens with a couple of controlled interactions.”

He nods again. She speaks like an expert - she is the expert, he guesses, because she’s seen a hundred people like him in her life and Jameson has only ever known himself. 

Not that he’s even sure he knows himself that well, most days.

He has his collar on, buckled tightly around his neck, a comfortable constriction. A reminder that he isn’t in control, someone else is, and what happens from here isn’t his fault. It’s not his responsibility, because a pet can’t be responsible for anything.

He left Jake Stanton lying on a couch’s pull-out bed because he can’t go up the stairs, pale and unconscious, and he left Allyn crying in their shared room, curled up in the closet, running their fingers over the names that Jameson carved into the wall there.

He lost control, for just a minute, of where he was and who was with him, and now…

He’s safer with the collar on.

He’s safer, controlled.

They were right - he can’t do this on his own, and he never could. 

“You can choose whichever room you like, except that I keep Chris’s room for when he stays over just the same, so not that one. But there’s another three bedrooms you can use.” Nat smiles at him, moving to the stairs and gesturing for him to follow.

They creak under his feet, and the house is speaking to him, whispering here, you’re here, you’re here now in bursts of smoke on his tongue and sweet just after. He licks at his lips, looking down at ancient brown carpeting there, almost long enough to be shag.

For just a second, he sees a flicker of a bright red shag carpet in a large shared loft bedroom, a face very like his own but older, laughing as they threw balled up pieces of paper at each other. Sparkling brown eyes-

Gone-

Jameson shivers and the moment is lost, and he lets it go happily. Whatever happened to him, he has too many other problems right now to dwell on something he’s already chosen to leave behind. 

“I’ll take, uh, whichever-... whichever room is closest to the bathroom,” He says, seeing an open door with the telltale tile floor and pale painted walls. She nods, gesturing to a closed door on her left. He pushes open the bathroom door and just stares, for a few long beats. “You have-... dinosaur shower curtains?”

“Oh, Chris loved that,” Nat says, looking over his shoulder briefly. She’s as short as he is, more or less, and somehow her leaning over behind him doesn’t feel quite as unsettling as when Jake Stanton does it, or anyone else.

Shit, maybe they’re all right. Maybe he’ll be safe here… and everyone else will be safe from him.

“I just kept them after he moved out. We can get new ones if they bother you, it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, no, they’re… they’re fine. I’m going to-... put my stuff down now.” Jameson backs up and she moves away to give him space. The floor creaks softly underfoot as he moves along the hardwood in the hallway, to the closed door of the room he’s chosen sight-unseen.

When he opens it, it’s plain. Just pale walls and two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, side tables with lamps, blankets and pillows. A single framed portrait of a bird on one wall. 

He looks out the window to the branches of a tree outside.

“I’m going to go downstairs and make some coffee. Want me to call for you when it’s ready?” She speaks from the doorway, calm and quiet. He loves her hot chocolate voice.

“Sure. I could… I could use some fucking coffee,” He whispers, without looking back.

“No doubt. We’ll figure this out, Jameson, I promise.” 

Before she can close the door, he asks, all at once in a rush, “What if I do it again?”

She’s quiet, for a minute. Quiet for long enough his heart starts to pound, he starts to wonder if she’ll lock him in the room, or even kick him back out and tell him to start walking and figure it out on his own. He can’t go back - the last time he was on the streets, he got picked up by Robert, the time before that by Brute. His pulse beats against his collar, and he’s safe with the collar, but only if he’s kept by someone who takes care of him, who won’t hurt him worse. “To Jake?”

“Or… or Allyn. Or you, or-... fuck, anybody. What if they-... made me so I’ll do it again?”

More quiet. He hates the quiet. He wants her hot chocolate voice back. He turns, finally, to see her looking him over with a calm that goes so far beyond his own anxiety and fear, a steady surety that makes her seem more like she’s part of the house than someone who simply lives here.

She’s seen a hundred hands, too, learning not to hurt or be hurt. She’s heard a hundred voices learning to speak up, remembering how to do something other than beg for it to stop. Maybe she is the safehouse, and the building is just… an extension.

He can kind of see why the big guy likes her so fucking much.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to give you the tools you need to keep yourself and everyone around you safe.” She smiles at him, a little, lifting the corner of her mouth just the slightest bit on one side. “It won’t be easy. And it won’t be simple, or immediate. But you aren’t irredeemable, Jameson. Even if you fucked up. Does it help if I tell you I’ve had others hit me, or grab at me, when they’re in a panic and forget where they are?”

He breathes, shallow but slow. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. A half-dozen or so. I caught Chris lost in a nightmare once and he cracked me across the face with his forehead so hard I had a bruise for a week. I’ve been kicked, I’ve been hit.” She exhales, not quite a sigh, and steps inside the bedroom, moving over to one of the beds and sitting down, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back, resting her weight on her hands. “I ended up in the ER with a concussion once, early on. One of the ones I lost.” She looks away from him, and he sees the wrinkles in her face suddenly settle deeper, as if the weight of that old grief ages her even now. “He didn’t mean to, the poor guy. He was so scared, but I couldn’t-... I couldn’t keep him. He was so scared of himself he went back to his captor. Never saw him again.”

Jameson takes one step towards her, and then another. It’s unconscious, and he tells himself not to, but he can’t help it. “I’m-... I’m sorry for him.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope he’s doing all right, but… I suspect not. It’s… it’s hard, Jameson, to do this, and sometimes the hard feels like it’s never going to end. Sometimes, they think there’s no choice, no other way.” She looks up at him, and he sees the faintest glimmer of tears that don’t show in her voice, don’t fall down her face. “You’re thinking that, too. That maybe you were better off kept.”

The echo of his own thoughts in her low husky voice sends him reeling, and he can’t find his voice to speak at first. Finally, he manages, “Y-yeah.”

“It’s a lie. I understand why it feels like-... it’s inevitable. But I want you to know... I’ve seen this before. And you’re still better off healing than being sent back to shatter. We’re going to help you, and Kauri-... Kauri’s right, I think. You’ll be safer here for a while, and then you’ll go back and be safe there, too.”

“What if I’m not? Safer there?”

Nat Yoder’s smile softens, and she holds out her hands. She must expect him to sit next to her, because she jumps in surprise when he drops to his knees instead, and lays his head on her thighs, across her lap, feeling the rough denim of her blue jeans against his cheek.

Her hands hover, and then slowly she lowers one, and rests it, gently, over his hair. 

“Then you’ll be safe here,” She says, and her voice pours over him, honeyed, deep, the hint of cinnamon and the texture of the thick liquid of his grandmother’s hot chocolate, made always with whole milk and a touch of cream.

Jameson doesn’t question the knowledge of how his grandmother made hot chocolate, and he doesn’t push it away. He just lets it exist, there and then gone a moment later. 

 “For how long?” Her fingers press just slightly against his temple. Her fingertips are slightly roughened, calloused from hard work. “How l-long am I safe here?”

“The same amount of time I give everyone, Jameson,” She says. “As long as you need.”

“But you said-... you don’t take in anyone anymore-”

“I’m making an exception, and I don’t do anything halfway.” She leans over, and he feels her shadow fall over him. He turns his face to press against her leg, feeling the tears start to well, clenching his eyes shut only to have them fall without his consent, to dampen her jeans.

He shudders. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him-... I thought he was Brute, coming b-back, I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“I know I sh-shouldn’t fucking cry-... I’m the ass-asshole who stabbed him, I shouldn’t c-cry about it, I shouldn’t-” He hitches back a sob, feels his collar catch on his Adam’s apple. It’s not enough to keep him safe. It was never enough to keep him safe. 

Her voice washes warm over him, and she runs her hand through his short hair, over the filled-in bald spots shorter than the rest. “You should, if you need to. Go ahead.”

Somehow, once she says he can, he can’t stop himself at all. 

Jameson kneels on the floor in a house that has seen a hundred or more people exactly like him, his body wracked with guilt and horror at what he did, what they made him, and his terror that he can’t ever take it back, that he can’t become anything other than what he was made to be.

And through the tears, she keeps one hand on his head, and when he starts to talk to her, she listens. 

Outside a bird sings, a mourning dove, calling hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

[aftermathfanfic]

Chapter 6: Dewey

Wildwood Mall had become the place where the young liked to hang out after school, browsing the various stores, chatting, and occasionally visiting the semi-vacant arcade. They hit up the usual suspects – first, the video game store, followed by the bookstore. The fitness shop was briefly explored, mainly for Dewey’s benefit, and then finally, the food court. Huey and Webby went to their usual outlets, while Dewey… well, he liked to mix it up whenever he came here.

His basic strategy was to meander about, wandering from food joint to food joint, before coming to rest at whatever place he stopped at. He didn’t really have any places that he really liked or really hated. Almost every place had at least one item that he liked, or something that was worth at least a try. He went simple today, getting a box of thick-cut chips underneath a pile of beef strips and sauce. He realised too late that it was going to be too much food for him and took the food with what he hoped was a well-hidden wince.

He made his way over to the table the four of them were sitting at, idly eating his chips while he walked. He could see Huey sitting on one end, hunched over a tray of Japanese food, and Webby on the other end, a half-eaten burger in her hands. Without even hearing their conversation, he could tell that they were talking about Louie. He could see the tenseness in Huey’s shoulders, and the unsettled look on his face.

As he got closer, he picked up bits of Huey’s conversation with her. “…just can’t help but worry about him. I know he doesn’t want me to but… he really doesn’t make it easy.”

“He ruhlly dernt talm muh.” Webby said, her mouth full of burger. When Huey gave her a questioning look, she paused, swallowed, then repeated herself. “He doesn’t really talk much. About himself, y’know? So, we don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“No… we don’t.” Huey muttered.

“Hey, guys!” Dewey said as he took a seat next to Webby. “We talkin’ about Louie?”

Huey’s eyes widened as he saw the lunch Dewey had ordered. “What is that?”

Dewey shrugged, taking a plastic fork out of his pocket and digging in. “It’s… called a snack pack, or something.”

Webby looked at the meal uneasily. “That stuff looks like it’s half grease, half salt.”

“I am horrified that you’re eating that.” Huey said, aghast.

“Hey, I have the right to eat what I want without fear of judgement.” Dewey told him, shoving his fork into the mass of carbs and salt. “Same way that Louie shouldn’t have to think that we’re talking about him behind his back.”

Huey looked away. Dewey chewed on his food quickly, then gulped it down.

“Look,” Dewey continued once his beak was empty. “He told you himself that he doesn’t want you looking over his shoulder all the time, right? So, maybe the first step is to stop talking about him so much.”

His red-clothed sibling looked back at him, this time with a glare. “Aren’t you scared for him?” He demanded. “Just a little bit?”

“Yeah, I’m scared!” Dewey replied. “I’m scared that if we keep making him mad, he’s going to hate us or something!” He jabbed his fork back into his food. “I don’t want that.”

“I think Dewey’s right.” Webby said, shrugging. “…Kind of. If we keep doing things that he’s told us not to do, then he’s just going to get angry. And that’s not going to help him get better.”

“…Fine.” Huey sighed, poking his food with a set of wooden chopsticks. “I just… hate feeling so useless.”

“I know, man.” Dewey replied quietly. “In my experience, though? The best way to make him feel better is to give him something to do, you know?”

“Hence that sports-star thing you were talking about this morning.” Huey said.

“Bingo. Ask him to help out, get you things…” He gestured to Webby. “Like, Webby, you could ask him to get concert tickets or something for your first date with Lena.”

Webby’s eyes went wide and she immediately choked on the mouthful of burger in her mouth. Huey double blinked and leant back, confused. “First- sorry, their what?”

“…You know, when they start going out?” Dewey clarified.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit premature?” Huey asked as Webby coughed beside him.

“Nah, dude.” Dewey replied confidently. “It’s just a matter of time. Webby’s already told me that she has a crush on her.”

Webby finished recovering, looking at Dewey in horrified fury. “Dewey!”

“I already know.” Huey told her. “You’re very easy to read.”

Webby spluttered for a moment, then groaned and laid her head on the table, a dark red blush spreading underneath her feathers.

“You really need to ask her out, dude.” Dewey said casually, shoving some more meat and chips into his beak. “All this ‘will-they-won’t-they’ stuff is driving me crazy.”

“No, I- I can’t!” Webby stammered. “She doesn’t even know I like her! Heck, I don’t even know if she likes me!”

“Course she does! All you need to do is go up to her-!”

“Dewey…” Huey started to say.

“-Tell her ‘hey, Lena, I’m in super-crazy-love with you-’”

“No!” Webby yelped. “No, no, that’s- that’s not- I can’t do that!”

“Sure you can!” Dewey told her confidently. “I’ve seen you backflip onto rampaging dire wolves, you can totally ask a girl out!”

“No offence, Dewey,” Huey said anxiously. “But I don’t think you’re the most… qualified to be giving romance advice.”

Dewey blinked confusedly. “I- What? How am I not qualified? I’ve asked, like, a dozen girls out before!”

“How many said yes?”

“Not the point. The point is that I know how this dating stuff works, inside and out.”

“…Mm-hm.” Huey gave his brother an unimpressed look before turning to Webby and saying warmly, “Well, I think that we should wait for something to develop naturally over time.”

“But it could take so long!” Dewey complained.

“Love isn’t something you can just rush into, Dewey.” Huey told him. “You have to let it grow, let it bloom into something.”

“Y-yeah, what… what Huey’s saying.” Webby chuckled nervously, picking her burger back up. “Let’s not do or say anything to Lena! Let’s just wait!”

“…Fine.” Dewey grumbled, getting back into his lunch.

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

The three young ducks arrived home late in the afternoon, taking the bus to the base of Killmotor Hill and then taking the trek all the way to the top, where the gates of McDuck Manor stood. Making their way inside, they found themselves in the foyer, greeting the ghostly form of Ducksworth as he dusted the chandelier high above. Sitting on the bottom stairs at the other end of the room was Louie, chewing on a chocolate bar.

“Hey, bro!” Dewey greeted him as they approached him. “How did that thing with Scrooge go?”

“Surprisingly fruitful, actually.” Louie replied, standing up to look at them fully. “Uh, before you guys get comfortable, could you meet me in the TV room?”

The other three teenagers slowed to a halt, looking at Louie in confusion and curiosity. “…Why?” Huey asked.

“Eh.” Louie just shrugged, an enigmatic smile on his face. “Scrooge just had something he wanted to talk to us kids about.”

“Oh! Shouldn’t we wait for May and June, then?” Webby piped up.

“Uh, I think they’re hanging out with school friends, or… something like that.” Louie replied dismissively. “They’ll be out for a while, at any rate.”

“…Oh. That’s, uh… yeah, fair enough.” Webby mumbled, looking away.

They followed Louie into the TV room, leaving their bags by the doorway as they did. When they entered the room, they collectively did a double take, as the room was not in its usual state. A great big map of the Mediterranean was draped across the table, a large red ‘X’ marked near its eastern coast, and a strange protrusion in its centre. A whiteboard stood in front of the television, a floor plan of some kind of building sketched upon it. Scrooge stood in front of the board, a large black marker in his hand and a focused expression on his face.

“…Woah.” Dewey said blankly. “What’s going on in here?”

Scrooge whirled around, a grin forming across his beak the moment he saw them. “Kids! Glad to see yeh! Come, take a seat!”

The teenagers slowly sat down on the couch, unsure of what exactly was happening, while Louie leaned on the couch arm, still sporting a mysterious smirk. A faint idea started to form at the back of Dewey’s head as he looked at the floor plan upon the whiteboard.

It reminded him of a temple.

“Tell me, kids,” Scrooge began to say, a familiar excitement burning behind his spectacles. “What do you know of the ancient kingdom of Phoenicia?”

“Phoenicia?” Huey replied thoughtfully. “Not much. They were a trade civilisation that emerged during the late Bronze Age, but that’s about it.”

“Yeah, they didn’t leave many artifacts or ruins behind them.” Webby added.

“Ah, but they left one!” Scrooge told them. “A temple, built on an island just off the coast of Byblos, dedicated to their thunder god, Baal Hadad!”

“Fun fact,” Louie interjected, causing the other three to look at him. “This place has some kind of magic stuff that makes it look destroyed to anyone who doesn’t have a special stone tablet.”

Dewey blinked. “Huh?”

“And we just happen to have one such tablet, right here!” Scrooge said dramatically, grabbing the map on the table and throwing it off with a flourish.

Upon the table, previously obscured by the map, was a large, heavy stone tablet. Inscribed upon this tablet were a number of strange, geometric symbols that looked like something between Nordic runes and ancient Greek, each glowing with a deep purple light. The three kids leaned forward, enraptured by the artifact.

“Within this temple, there is rumour that a cloak of gold and silk rests within its confines,” Scrooge continued, drawing their attention back to him. “Whomever dons this cloak becomes invincible – unable to be harmed or touched by any physical or magical threats!” He stood up straight, brushing his coat. “I’m thinkin’ of a hangin’ it on the mantle.”

Dewey stared at Scrooge, excitement growing at the pit of his stomach as he slowly began to understand. Beside him, Webby leaned further, a grin slowly forming on her beak.

“…Wait…” Huey said slowly.

“…Are you saying…” Dewey said excitedly.

Webby leapt off the couch and shot forward, glee written across her face. “Are we going on an adventure?” She shrieked, so quickly that it was almost all one word.

“That we are!” Scrooge declared, thrusting his cane into the air. “This weekend, the five of us shall uncover the last secrets of Phoenicia!”

There was a pause, then the room erupted into cheer. Webby leapt across the table and grappled Scrooge in a bear hug, with Dewey following soon thereafter. “Thank you!” She cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Thank you so much!” Dewey said simultaneously, hugging him as well.

“Aak!” Scrooge winced as Webby crushed him in her grip. “Y-yeh welcome, kids.”

“But- but this is crazy!” Dewey said as he stepped back. “I was just telling my friends today that we don’t adventure anymore! We’re really doing this?”

“Aye, lad.”

“…Intact Phoenician ruins?” Huey murmured, a slow smile spreading across his beak as well. “But that’s… that’s incredible!” He leapt off the couch. “The knowledge that could be uncovered… it’d fill so many gaps in Western history!”

“Forget that!” Dewey exclaimed. “Think about the crazy awesome traps to avoid in that place!”

“We could fight so many monsters in that place!” Webby gushed. “Like golems, or- or ghosts, or skeletons!”

“Personally,” Louie interjected, still leaning on the couch. “The golden cloak is what really cinched it for me.

There was a pause as everyone turned to look at him. Dewey’s grin slipped as he realised he’d completely forgotten about Louie.

“…Wait…” Huey said, concernedly. “Are you okay with this?”

Louie shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure.

“…Are you sure?” Huey asked uncertainly. “I- we don’t want you to do this just because we want to do this-”

“Relax.” Louie insisted, walking up and putting an arm around Huey’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t be doing this at all if I wasn’t one-hundred percent okay with this.”

Huey didn’t seem completely convinced. Scrooge stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened in Mexico will never happen again.” He told him gently, before turning to the rest of them. “That’s my promise to all of you. This is a fresh start. There’ll be no more tragedies from here on out!”

Everyone’s smiles began to return to their beaks, filled with relief and excitement.

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

The rest of the evening was a buzz of excitement and anticipation. All anyone in the house was talking about was the new adventure. Huey was sprouting facts about Phoenicia, Louie was asking Scrooge for estimates on how much this cloak would be worth, and Dewey found himself daydreaming of scenes from the action movies he’d watched, except with himself in place of the main character. This time, instead of a distant fantasy, it felt like a real glimpse of the future.

Webby was the most excited about the trip. She had borrowed the sketched-out map of the temple, a few notes and the tablet itself, and was doggedly studying all of it. She couldn’t sit still or stop talking about it. Dewey couldn’t remember the last time she’d seemed so… happy.

Towards the end of the evening, after dinner, Webby took Dewey by the hand and dragged him down the corridor as he was heading to bed. When he questioned why, she turned to him with a grin and said, “We have a second grapple hook in the garage!”

Dewey’s eyes lit up. “Woah… I could have a grapple hook!”

“I know!” Webby squealed. “I’ve always wanted to teach you how to use it, but we didn’t have two until last year!”

“Yeah! Let’s find it!” Dewey said enthusiastically. As they quickly darted toward the garage, Dewey suddenly said, “Oh! Is there a spare set of night goggles?”

Webby gasped. “Oh my gosh! I was thinking the same thing!”

“Right? We can both be, like, spies! Like from that… Splinter Gear game, or whatever it’s called. We’ll scout out the temple in stealth mode, and then come back to the others and tell them, like, the optimal route for infiltration!”

The two young ducks slowed to a stop before the door to the garage. Webby turned to Dewey, her smile flickering for just a moment. “I… don’t know if stealth mode is really your thing.” She said awkwardly.

“Eh, probably not.” Dewey shrugged. “But it’ll be cool to have anyway.”

They opened the door into the garage, light pouring into its cluttered confines. Even though most of its previous contents had been moved to the Duckburg Museum, the room was still cluttered with boxes of junk and adventuring gear that had been shoved in the garage over the years and eventually forgotten about. They got to work immediately, searching around and digging through the miscellaneous knick-knacks that were stored here.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening!” Webby said enthusiastically as they searched the place. “We’re finally doing what we’re supposed to be doing!”

“Yeah, I know.” Dewey agreed, pulling open a chest and peering inside. “I’m still in, like, complete shock.” He turned to her as she investigated a box on the other side of the room. “Hey, should we invite people?”

Webby looked over to him. “Like, Lena and Vi?”

“Yeah, and like… maybe some school friends, like the guys from my baseball team.”

“Uh…” Webby returned her attention to the box she was looking through. “I think our adventures might be a bit intense for them.”

“You sure? I mean, I know Simon isn’t the greatest batter, but…”

Webby turned back towards Dewey with a sceptical look. “Your friends are sport guys, Dewey. Not adventurers.” She returned to the box. “Besides, it’ll be easier for us to get back into shape if it’s a small team, you know?”

“…Yeah. Good point.” Dewey went to search through the chest, talking over his shoulder as he did. “Man, we need to go over all of our old moves again. I don’t even remember how we used to do all those- woah.”

He blinked and stepped back as he laid eyes on the object he’d pulled out from the chest. Webby stopped what she was doing and walked over, looking over his shoulder.

“Woah.” She parroted.

Before them, sitting on the pile of miscellaneous pieces of equipment, was an old, tarnished revolver.

“That must be Scrooge’s old revolver!” Webby said in a hushed voice. “I didn’t know he still had it!”

Gingerly, Dewey reached out and took the weapon by the cylinder, taking it out of the box and holding it in his hands. It was an old model, that was for sure. It looked like it had come fresh from one of those eighties action movies, with the brown leather grip and the dark steel body.

Once he’d made the comparison, a different image entered his head – a sudden vision of himself, wearing a leather jacket and a wide brimmed fedora, the revolver in one hand and a bullwhip in the other.

“…Webby…” He said slowly, turning around to look at her. “…I just had the best idea.”

“…What?” She asked.

He held up the gun with a grin. “I could be Ford Windfall.”

Webby’s eyes widened. “From The Jungle of Perilous Peril?”

“Yeah! And The Seekers of the Crimson Chalice!”

“Ohmygosh!” Webby gasped, her hands flying to her face. “I can see it! You can, like, swing in on a whip or on the grapple hook, and beat bad guys up, face-to-face…”

“Yeah, and you can take them down from the shadows, like a ninja!”

“That’d work so well! We’d be an even better duo than we used to be!”

“Yeah, and I can, like, shoot them! In the legs and stuff!” Dewey said enthusiastically, swinging the gun into his hand and pointing it at a nearby dummy. “Or I could even shoot their own guns out of their hands, or shoot ropes to make heavy things fall on them… man, this thing is heavier than it looks.” He remarked with a frown. He turned back to Webby and asked, “You think it’s loaded?”

Webby opened her beak.

Then, she closed it.

She slowly looked between the gun and Dewey, the excitement fading from her face and being replaced with a troubled expression.

“…Maybe check with Scrooge if you’re allowed to have it, first.” She suggested warily.

“Oh, right.” Dewey shoved the gun into his jacket pocket.

“Like, you could seriously hurt someone if…”

“No, I get it, I get it. Let’s, uh… let’s just find the grapple hook, first.”

A few more minutes of searching was spent, but to no avail. Disappointed, but not disheartened, the two ducks left the garage, Webby promising to ask Mrs Beakley in the morning. They bid each other goodnight and then left for their rooms. Dewey was about halfway to his room before he remembered about the revolver in his pocket, and then turned around to get to Scrooge’s office.

As he walked down the old halls, he went over what he was going to say in his head. It was more than likely that Scrooge would flat-out tell him that he couldn’t have the revolver, that it was too dangerous for a kid like him to have, or something like that. But the idea of completing the ‘rugged adventurer’ look had suddenly become very appealing for him. However he said this, he had to frame it in a way that would make him look responsible.

Eventually, the door to his uncle’s office was in sight. He swallowed his nervousness and approached.

As he got closer, he slowed down. He could hear people speaking inside.

In fact, he was pretty sure he could hear Uncle Donald.

Slowly, stealthily, he made his way towards the door. He put the side of his head against its wooden frame, trying to listen in.

“…hiding this from us, only telling us when you’ve told the kids and gotten them excited-!” He could hear Donald quacking furiously.

“Calm down, Donald-” Scrooge’s voice said.

“No! Not this time!” Donald snapped. “This isn’t happening! No way! Not after what happened last time!”

“This won’t be anythin’ like last time!” Scrooge snapped.

“Donald, calm down!” Della’s voice spoke up from within the room. “Look, the kids need this, alright? They need a good adventure to-”

“How can you say that?” Donald almost shouted. “Have you forgotten what a ‘good adventure’ did to Louie?”

“I- that’s- forgotten?” Della spluttered, sounding hurt.

“Donald, I-” Scrooge tried to say.

“Louie is already struggling! We know he’s struggling! This-!”

“I haven’t forgotten anything!” Della shouted back, sounding angry now as well. “I relive that moment every single day because I failed to keep him safe! I won’t let that happen this time, and neither will Scrooge! Can’t you trust that?”

“Not with this!” Donald replied resolutely. “Not when you’re running headfirst into danger! I won’t allow it! I don’t care what you or anyone-!”

“They’re not your kids!” Della yelled.

“They might as well be!”

“Enough.” A calmer, matronly voice suddenly introduced itself. Mrs Beakley was in the room as well. “Scrooge, they both have valid points. The children are born adventurers, whether we like it or not. Without an outlet for their brand of restlessness, they’re all suffering. They need this. But there have to be proper safety nets in place, or what happened in Mexico will happen again!”

“And ye think I don’t already know that?” Scrooge growled, sounding frustrated. “I may be a reckless old coot, but I’m not daft!”

There was a pause. Dewey waited at the door, listening intently.

He heard Scrooge sigh. “Look,” He began. “The trip is on Saturday. Between now and then, I’m sending Gyro to the ruins to investigate them himself. Thoroughly. He’ll send me a map of the ruins in its entirety, complete with traps, dead ends, and notes on its occupants, if any. I’ll know the location of every possible danger in that temple. I’ll know which ones the kids are capable of handling, and which ones are to be avoided.

“The kids will be none the wiser. As far as they’ll be concerned, this’ll be a regular adventure, just like old times.” Scrooge hesitated. “I mean, I would tell one of them, but… the only one of them that can keep a secret is Louie, and he’s one of the kids we’re doing the trip for.”

“Knowing where the dangers are is only one step.” Beakley said sternly. “We need preventative measures to protect them.”

“Agreed.” Scrooge replied. “And that’s where the real genius lies. Gyro will be tasked to disable every trap he comes across. And, wherever possible, he’ll rig the traps with modern gadgetry! These traps will trigger as normal, but they’ll be prevented from deliverin’ the killing blow! They’ll give the kids just enough leeway to get out of the way, or give me enough time to yank them away from danger!” He heard Scrooge chuckle. “It’ll be the safest adventure we’ve ever been on, but it’ll feel just like the real deal!”

There was silence for a moment.

“…So…” Della spoke up again, this time sounding unsure. “We’re going to… trick them?”

“Well…” Scrooge replied, sounding a little flustered. “It’s more of a white lie, than anythin’ else…”

“I think it’s a sound idea.” Beakley said matter-of-factly. “The only thing I’d watch out for is the kids themselves. They’re smart. If you aren’t careful, they could easily put the pieces together themselves.”

“They won’t suspect a thin’. Trust me. Any other worries ye want addressed, Donald?”

There was a pause, then a reluctant sigh. “…So long as you’re make sure that they’ll be safe.” Donald replied.

“They will.” Scrooge assured him. “I swear it by me life, and me fortune.”

“Good. And I’ll tell you now that May and June won’t be going.” Donald added. “Daisy won’t have it.”

Scrooge sighed. “I assumed as much. I’ll respect her wishes. Della? I have your blessin’?”

There was another pause. This one was considerably longer.

“We either start Louie in the paddlin’ pool, or we throw him into the deep end.” Scrooge told her wisely. “And we all know what could happen if we do the latter.”

“…Yeah. You’re right.” Della replied quietly. “I’ll come with, just in case, but… yeah. I’m okay with this.”

Retracting his head from the door, Dewey slowly slunk away. He’d heard enough.

He made his way back to his room, his hands in his pockets and his expression downcast. This wasn’t an adventure. It was one of those scripted haunted houses in theme parks. How could it be a test of skill or daring if there wasn’t the possibility of failure? If they were basically guaranteed to succeed regardless of what happened?

Yet, even as these thoughts crossed his mind, he also remembered how confident Louie had looked back in the TV room. He remembered how joyful, how hopeful Webby was right now. He thought how they would react if they knew that it was all fake, and he frowned even further.

…They were the point, he decided. This trip wasn’t for him. It was for the members of his family who weren’t coping. And if he told them the truth, then they’d be just as unhappy as they were before, if not more so. He had to keep quiet about this.

So, he stood up straight. And with a forced smile, he walked back to his bedroom.

[willadisastercry]

Lance ignores his asthma and Coran is not willing to be an accomplice pt. 2

It’s a race against the clock as Lance’s lungs worsen and his team scrambles to come up with a remedy before it’s too late. And though this whole mess certainly could’ve been avoided had he been upfront about his situation to begin with, his team will have to save the scolding for when Lance can focus on something other than the pain of trying to force air into his rapidly constricting airways. Altean technology works fast, but what if fast isn’t fast enough?

Part 1 / Part 2

“D’you check these yet?” Hunk asked as he threw open the topmost drawer of the in-wall storage space in Lance’s cabin.

“No, and it’s not in here either... I don’t understand wh—shit!” Keith cursed as he knocked over the trash can beside Lance’s nightstand and began scooping the contents back up.

“I don’t know where it could possibly be if—“

“—found it...” Keith interrupted as he held up the inhaler that had fallen out with the rest of the trash.

“Did you just get that from the... don’t you dare tell me it’s... oh, quiznak!”

“We’ve gotta tell Shiro...”

Keith was scared that Hunk would actually cry with the way his body tensed and his eyes glossed over.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Coran will know what to do,” Keith offered as he forwent cleaning up the rest of the mess he made for the sake of time.

“Bring that with you, maybe it can help him figure something out,” Hunk said after a second of staring blankly before he turned on his heel and joined Keith in a mad dash back to the training deck.

When they finally made it back they wished they’d never left.

Lance was collapsed onto his forearms with a very distraught Shiro rubbing circles on his back as he struggled to take in heaving breaths. He hadn’t even realized they’d returned until Shiro spoke up.

“Thank god you guys are back, just toss it—”

“It’s empty, this was his last inhaler...” Keith offered for the look of utter despair on Shiro’s face as Hunk sunk down next to them and placed one hand beside Shiro’s on his back and wrapped the other around Lance’s, receiving a weak squeeze in thanks for the small comfort.

“You’re gonna be fine dude... Coran and Allura are going to help, they can fix this. Just keep breathing as deep as you can,” he repeated over and over as Lance’s chest continued to hitch, the wheezes so loud and guttural now as his lungs worsened and his body grew more exhausted.

Understanding washed over Shiro all at once and then he was moving, maneuvering Lance’s struggling body despite the unwillingness of his lax limbs.

He was too exhausted to do much of anything aside from keep his chest rising and follow whatever direction his pliant frame was guided, letting himself be pushed back onto his heels as hands clasped his forearms and settled on his back to keep him from tipping over.

Every muscle in his abdomen was screaming. A similar tension burning up his neck and seeping into the sinews between his shoulder blades that made his head feel way too heavy to sit atop his shoulders. After not even thirty ticks of trying to summon the strength to keep it up he let it hang forward, the hands on him tightening their grips when he did.

He was extremely grateful they couldn’t see his face anymore because tears were beginning to form quicker than they could fall and he was sure he would have been fully sobbing at that point if he’d had any energy to spare.

“We’re meeting everyone at the infirmary then, you guys run ahead and let Coran know,” Shiro ordered as he motioned for Hunk to take hold of Lance while he turned away and crouched.

With some help he rose on shaking legs, Keith rushing to support his other side when his oxygen deprived legs protested the action.

“Woah, we’ve got you... thanks Keith...”

Their hands under his armpits kept him standing long enough to collapse onto Shiro’s back.

He literally only had the energy after that to throw his arms over Shiro’s shoulders and nestle his chin securely in the space between his own bicep and Shiro’s neck before his body sagged against his leader like dead weight.

“Go! I’m right behind you,” he shouted, his voice dark and fearful.

He could feel Lance straining against him as he followed after them, could hear the way his congested airways sputtered each time he tried to breathe.

Shiro made his way with steady urgency, not exactly jogging but not walking either, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach only forcing his legs to pump quicker as Lance got worse.

Keith and Hunk made it to the medbaby in record time though, both boys panting after sputtering to a halt once they made it through the whooshing doors.

The paladins knew today’s workout would be a doozy, but none of them expected to be doing this much running, especially under these circumstances.

Pidge was on the floor sorting through boxes of medicine and supplies carrying on an in-depth conversation regarding the compositional makeup of altean pharmaceuticals with Coran and Allura.

“Hey guys—wait why do you have...?”

“Empty...”

Keith answered a bit breathlessly as he waved the tube of navy and teal plastic in the air before gesturing to toss it to Coran who nodded and raised his hands in anticipation.

“...figured you’d want to take a look at the ingredients or whatever before Shiro got here with him.”

The air in the room seemed to thin as worry descended upon everyone.

“Christ, Lance!” Pidge exclaimed and sat back on her heels.

“Yeah, he’s not doing too hot,” Hunk said as he joined them, stealing the box of tubes and gadgets from Pidge to rifle through it himself.

Coran’s frown somehow deepened and Allura looked increasingly more distraught as he began filling them in.

“What level of dangerous is his breathing at?” Pidge asked hesitantly, like she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“He’s panicking and already really exhausted, so pretty dangerous. It’s one of the worst attacks I think he’s had in a while...”

Allura worried at her lip and kept glancing between the jumble of medical supplies and the medbay doors while she worked absently to ready a bed, the mice smoothing out wrinkles in the sheets and pulling down corners for her.

“Well, it was smart of number four to think of bringing this. I am synthesizing several medicines in likeness but none of them are exactly complete yet—”

“That’s—fuck, that’s not gonna be good enough...”

Everyone stilled at Hunk’s harsh interruption, his hands shaking in loose fists at his sides while he stared fixedly at the boxes of miscellaneous medical equipment in front of him.

“Lance can’t breathe, he can’t just wait for something to finish synthesizing, he might not be breathing at all when it’s done!”

Pidge scooted across the floor and laid her tiny hands on top of Hunk’s trembling ones.

“I think what Hunk means to say is that Lance’s condition is, erm, kinda dire and requires something that works as fast as possible.”

“Hmmm, I see. That is why the blue wilgam bark salve is strictly for prevention... this is indeed a rather tricky—ah, though I suppose I can try to extract and aerosolize whatever might remain of his earth remedy for a temporary solution,” Coran noted as he braved his stern concentration face and began separating the metal canister from the outer plastic to compare the words on it to the words on the bottles of medicine in front of him.

“And we can always place him in a pod for however long it takes to create an accurate remedy... he is truly in the best hands Hunk, do not fret so much,” Allura finished with a tight smile that was warm and assuring all the same.

It was strange how well she could do that, squash so much worry with such a simple act.

Coran hurried over to a station with lots of tools and canisters and turned on several machines that made various clicking and whirring noises.

Keith’s nose wrinkled at the new sounds but he couldn’t find it in him to feel angry about it. Not when they were going to help Lance when was in such bad shape.

“Okay, okay... those are good ideas,” Hunk agreed with a gasp, he hadn’t realized he’d been withholding air as he lost himself in his panic.

“Deep breaths, big guy,” Pidge urged, the weight of her hands bringing him back down from the brink of panic as his mind raced.

“Yeah, don’t forget that you’re the one who can actually breathe,” Keith chided gently with a hesitant hand on Hunk’s shoulder.

“Right... sorry. It’s just that these can get ugly really quick if—“

The doors whooshed open with an unsettling burst of air as Shiro emerged and crossed the room in a matter of seconds, a flurry of concerned exclamations filling the silence in between pauses of commotion that should have been hurried gasps for air.

But weren’t.

There wasn’t time to make sense of the lack of color in Lance’s face or the absence of movement in his chest as Shiro slid him off of his back, human hand trembling as he moved to support his middle and the base of his neck as he lowered his lifeless body onto the bed.

It was a grim enough sight to have even Allura’s mice crying out.

“Lance!”

“Holy fuck...”

Pidge was acting on autopilot as she pinched the altean breathing mask Coran had pulled out over the bridge of his nose and cupped it under his chin to secure the seal, Keith moving in eerie similarity to connect the tubing and flip the right switches on the machine when it became apparent that Hunk wouldn’t be spurred from his horror any time soon.

It wasn’t prepped because they hadn’t realized they’d be needing it so soon.

“No... nonononono—“

They aren’t sure how they heard it through the muddle of commotion and devastating silence but it stopped them all in their tracks, the faintest whisper of air passing his lips.

His very blue lips, go figure.

“He’s breathing, Hunk. Just barely, though...”

Lance’s eyes were open still and staring at nothing as his neck strained for air that was there now but still not accessible with how severely inflamed his lungs had become, the only sounds leaving his lips at all just rapid exhales where he couldn’t expel enough before his aching lungs screamed for more of what the mask was providing

“It doesn’t look like it’s helping...” Hunk all but sobbed as he gripped the base board of the bed so tightly his fingers blanched.

Lance’s eyes bobbed at that, struggling to locate who out of his friends was distressed through the tears welling at their brims.

They were puffy and bloodshot as silent tears spilled in a continuous stream, his eyebrows drawn together with pain and desperation.

“That’s because it’s not,” Shiro deadpanned, his hands working to soothe over Lance’s stuttering chest as his rasping breaths caught in his throat on their way out.

“Wh-how is it not working... it’s oxygen?!”

It was almost pitiful how helpless Keith looked as he stated the very blatant fact, his expression sharp and his tone prickly, like he didn’t know who or what to be mad at.

“His airways,” Pidge started weakly, her voice wavering, “they must be too tight for the air to get through...”

Shiro’s hand gripped Lance’s fiercely. It was ice cold.

The gravity of the situation dawned on his friends like a literal blow then, all eyes turning to Allura.

“Coran... he-he’s working on something, but...”

It wasn’t often that the paladins saw the princess hesitate. Her usual order of proceeding during a crisis was to do something brave or noble first and think about it later, but her impulse instinct was uncharacteristically absent as she stared at Lance’s greying face.

Her hands rose slowly, long fingers uncurling from where they’d been pressed tightly in her palms to reveal a subtle pink glow.

“Princess...”

“I know, Shiro... it’s just—I am scared it might cause him greater discomfort...”

“I don’t think we have time to worry about that, Allura,” Keith noted gravely from the foot of the bed where Lance’s eyes were half focused and darting between him and Hunk.

A status update from Coran made the tension in the room skyrocket further as he estimated another twenty or so dobashes before anything was viable.

It only took one more particularly worrisome sound of distress from Lance for Allura’s hands to descend on his chest with certainty, the pink furls leaving her fingers and settling on his body for not even a second before his back arched off the bed with a strangled gasp.

Allura grimaced as she called upon several energy reserves to ease the vice constricting Lance’s lungs as fast as she could.

A phantom tightness bloomed in her own chest as she visualized the pressure leaving his while she forced each passage back open, the channel she had opened between them by using her powers allowing her to feel the gridlock for herself.

She didn’t let up until Lance was sinking back into the pile of pillows and by then she was so lightheaded that her vision was spotting, but Keith was at her side and gripping her elbow securely before she could even stumble when the strength in her legs wavered.

“I am quite alright, just feeling a bit weak.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t you take a seat for a few anyway?”

Lance couldn’t really make sense of the conversations going on around him while he collected himself after being released from the pulls of Allura’s magic.

“It’ll pass, Keith.”

“Allura...”

Not that he was known for having stellar listening skills, but he was just usually able to follow along with the general flow of things even when otherwise preoccupied.

“Coran you said only eighteen minutes, right?”

The voices of his friends filtered back in slowly though, his skull throbbing still after the horrible pressure had lifted.

“Can you lift his head for a sec so I can secure the strap?”

He hadn’t been coherent of much of anything before, fixing what remained of his energy on the miserable stalemate in his chest.

“It’s only seventeen dobashes and forty three tics now...”

And then the twisted relief of Allura’s magic.

But after that his hearing seemed to flatline, zeroing in on a high pitched hiss that was either static or the oxygen flow of which droned on and dribbled into his present when the tension that had yanked every muscle in his body taught alleviated all at once.

It was so disorientating it almost nauseated him and brought a distinct rush of blood to his eardrums, the oxygen flooding his deprived bloodstream like a dam had broken and left him feeling utterly weightless.

Shiro was the first one to break through the barrier of cotton that muffled his brain.

“Easy, Lance,” he instructed when he didn’t start breathing normally right sway, too stunned by the sudden levity to remember how.

“Take it slow hermano, you’re okay now...”

Everything was still uncomfortably tight and restricted, but air was at least accessible even as his body struggled to acclimate to the change, his heaves greedy and crackling.

“I was able reduce the inflammation for now but there is a substantial amount of fluid that remains in his lungs.”

“Fluid? What like blood?”

“No, Keith, not blood. Phlegm.”

“Oh, gross.”

Lance let out an indignant huff at that and despite the restriction of the mask managed to return the look of disgust the mullet had given him.

“Why is that so bad if it’s just phlegm?”

“Because anything in your lungs besides air is bad, Keith. It’s your lungs!”

“Precisely, Pidge. And it will only keep irritating Lance’s but we cannot risk him progressing back to such a state before Coran has derived his medicine when my powers are not indefatigable.”

“Yep...” Lance winced.

In order to speak he had to battle against the congestion in his chest which made his already wrecked voice sound downright abrasive.

“Shhh, no talking!” Pidge hissed with a warning glare.

But when was Lance ever known to take good advice when it’s given?

“Think... I can feel th’fluid... s’not very—“

He didn’t have to elaborate any more than that to get his point across because the rapping of his own vocal cords against each other had him launching into a harsh fit of coughing that rocked his entire frame. The accumulated cloud of condensation in the mask never allowed to chance to dissipate fully as he hacked.

It sort of felt like he was drowning since he didn’t have the strength to get his arms underneath him while all of the crap that his stupid respiratory system produced to counteract the strain in his lungs only worked to suffocate him and his freshly reduced air passages.

“Shit someone help me get him up, it’ll be easier to breathe if he’s vertical...”

Hunk surged to grab the arm that was closest to him as Shiro slotted his own beneath Lance’s back and hefted him into what only partially passed as a sitting position. But the motion made his head spin and his stomach clench and then Hunk’s hands planted on either of his shaking shoulders to keep him from tilting over as Shiro slid behind him.

The others looked on with horror.

“You’re okay,” Shiro assured as he pulled Lance towards himself.

He was grateful for the solidity of Shiro’s chest, his hold firm enough that Lance didn’t have to work anymore to keep himself up as he slumped into it, but the tears started back up anyway when he continued to actively choke on what felt like nothing despite being upright.

But there wasn’t anything in his throat to actually choke on.

“Just gotta work through it...”

He was starting to get really tired of the exhaustion and malaise that came with being deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time.

“Paladins! Only fourteen—er, minutes remaining.”

“Hear that bud? You’re gonna be okay.”

He did hear but he’s shaking his head in the crook of Shiro’s arm where his head had lolled because he can’t wait that long. He can’t.

“Yeah, you’ll feel better real soon,” Hunk affirmed.

But Lance was verging on a hysteria that he couldn’t summon the strength to express when every muscle that can be strained in his body felt like it most definitely was. And with how acutely his ribcage ached he was also certain he’d displaced a couple of those false ribs made up of just cartilage too.

“Hey, no don’t get upset, you’re gonna be fine!”

He’s never been more exhausted in his life and he can’t communicate that he can’t wait that long because he hasn’t stopped coughing.

His eyes are burning from the amount of crying he’s done so he relies on touch alone when a hand cups his chin and turns it, deducing it must be Allura.

“Lance, can you hear me?”

A shakey jerk seems to be good enough for her.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of the healing pods, but I understand that you are in a great deal of distress still and I believe you have endured enough...”

“What are you—oh, yeah! We could totally just put him in stasis like you and Coran were for thousands of years and bring him out when the medicine is ready.”

“Yes, just as Pidge puts it. There is no need to extend the suffering of one of my paladins.”

Shiro set his jaw as he regarded Allura sternly, it didn’t matter what she believed if Lance didn’t agree and he knew how wary he was of returning to the pods after the harrowing experience that landed him in one for the first time.

“Is that something you want to do? It’s alright if you aren’t comf—“

“Please.”

His voice was small, hard even a rasp, but it didn’t need to be loud for Shiro to accept it as his answer.

“Okay...���

Lance checked out after that, allowing himself to save the energy it took to focus on what was happening around him.

So when he started registering Shiro’s voice in his ear he wasn’t exactly sure how both him and the respirator came to be at the foot of a cryochamber but he made a desperate noise at the realization.

“I know, bud. You’re almost there but we need to take the mask off.”

No one missed the fear that flashed across his face before it softened into resignation, or otherwise known as I don’t care, please put me in that stupid thing right now.

Shiro was still holding him and seemed to sense the urgency in it.

“I’m gonna stand up with you...”

It was so surprise when Lance’s knees hardly held any of his own weight before wobbling and giving out as Shiro stood with him still flush against his chest.

He regarded Hunk with a lazy roll through lidded eyes as he tipped his head forward and worked the strap off but held the mask in place.

Distantly aware of the burst of air from the pod opening and a renewed flurry of commotion around him, Lance tried to work with Shiro as he ushered him forward but his legs were too heavy and he couldn’t coordinate his movements well.

Someone else’s hands were on him, bending his knee so they could set one leg down in the pod and send the rest of his body with it. He thinks it might’ve been Keith.

The various sets of hands on him stay even after he’s securely in place, probably scared he would crumple if they did.

They were probably right.

“-nce. Hey, Lance? There you are, this is gonna suck but only for a second. I promise. Ready?”

You would’ve missed the brief hum from his somewhere deep in his sore chest if you weren’t practically inside the pod with him like Shiro seemed to be.

“Okay, now Hunk.”

The crackling heave that erupted from hims mouth was something a dying thing made, but he couldn’t hear himself or the horrible sound he made as consciousness began to swiftly melt away in stages.

First with the initial pressure everywhere after the removal of the mask.

And then pain because holy shit he couldn’t breathe.

But the cold creeped into his bones at light speed and the darkness wasn’t too far behind.

[oinkz]

bound to you

— you share an umbrella with your ex, oikawa. (gn!reader)

— angst, harassment (not by oikawa or the reader), light fluff, 3.5k words, very experimental so i apologize if it’s a bit.. messy

A dark cloud from outside the classroom window stretches across the canvas of the sky, its presence mighty and foreboding. Any minute now, it could start pouring, and that known fact is making it more and more difficult to focus on your calculus test as time lets on.

Just one more question. That’s it. And then, you can finally speed home, tend to your aching head, and take a nap, even. After the awfully long day you’ve had, you think you deserve it.

It was a cliche sort of day, not completely terrible, but it still rendered you exhausted nonetheless. You had woken late, skipped breakfast, ran into someone who was holding an iced coffee in their hand, and then strutted the school parameters in a very obviously stained uniform. (In the end, you’re just glad that the coffee wasn’t scorching hot.)

You had wanted to return home immediately after the last bell rang, but you needed to make up a test you were absent for last week. This brings you to now, in the midst of the very last question. 

With whatever wisdom and knowledge you can muster, you power through, tapping through your calculator and recalling that god-forsaken unit circle.

What even is a unit circle? You wouldn’t know, you’re merely doing enough to pass.

All you know is that one, this test wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be (thank goodness for that) and two, you didn’t have enough time to check the weather this morning. Of course, the one day you failed to check is the day the weather gods decide to hurl you with a storm.

You had forgotten your umbrella. And once you complete this math problem, you’ll have to end your school day in the most cliche way possible - with the walking through pouring rain after a particularly hard day. You see it all the time in movies and books. 

‘Life imitates art,’ they say. And it sure does.

You don’t take long before you can input your final answer to the calculator and write it down on your paper. You even box the number in, making it nice and pretty for the teacher to read through your messy work. Maybe it’s to be generous for the sake of being generous - you know, to make your teacher’s job a little easier. Or maybe it’s to lend some good karma your way, in hopes of postponing the upcoming storm for another thirty minutes. You’re a little desperate, to say the least.

“Done?” 

Speak of the devil. Your head shoots upward to find said teacher.

You merely nod, handing her the paper.

Then, you’re on your own for the remaining minutes in school. You wish your teacher a good evening, and then wander through the empty halls to find your locker.

5pm is a quiet hour for Aoba Johsai. At this point, most students have made their way home - even the ones with extracurriculars. It was a little unsettling when you first stayed late, but you’ve grown used to it.

Long were the days when you would stay in the gym till late evening to help the boys in the volleyball club. They’re memories you wish you could look at bitterly, but you simply can’t. Because in the end of the day, you were happy. So happy.

But just because it was happy, doesn’t mean it was meant to be.

You take a sharp breath inwards, hoping to put an end to this - this reminiscing. You’ve moved on now, and you’re okay. Everything is just dandy without them. Without the supposed love of your life.

You’re taking books out of your locker when you hear it - the small roar of thunder and heavy pitter patter of pouring rain. For the tenth time today, a sigh falls from your mouth. Certainly, you’re not surprised, but it still sucks nonetheless.

You just want one good thing to happen today. One.

Now, you stand at the school entrance, a low frown weighing down the corners of your lips.

There’s no avoiding it - you have to get home somehow... but still. Mother Nature can be so, so cruel. Was it not enough that you walked around school with a dark coffee stain on your blouse?

You’re so busy moping that you don’t see the painfully familiar presence quietly making his way beside you, a subtle, yet adoring smile on his lips.

“What are you waiting for?” He wonders, staring at the sky alongside with you, eyes genuinely curious.

Your heart stops for what feels like minutes.

Because you know that voice. Everyone does, but especially you.

It’s the same voice that lulled you to sleep when insomnia was eating you away. The one you’ve heard sing far too many times thanks to those long gone karaoke nights. The one that whispered ‘I love you’s into your ear when you felt completely, and utterly alone.

That voice.

“It’s raining,” you reply bluntly, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible. It’s not because you hate him per se - in fact, it’s quite the opposite. But you would rather not be anywhere close to him. 

“Where’s your umbrella?” He asks. It’s a simple question, but it’s so perceptive. Just like him. 

Of course he remembers how you always check the weather every morning. Of course he remembers how you had always - without fail - remembered to bring an umbrella. 

You hate the hope that swells up in your stomach. And you so badly want to hate him, too.

“I—“ You start, shakily. “It’s been a long day.” 

He hums. Whether it’s in agreement, or to say he can tell, you’re not sure.

“C’mon then.”

Dumbfounded, you’re not sure what “c’mon, then” even means. You hope he’s not implying...?

Reluctantly, you look over to him, and he’s waving an umbrella in his hand.

Oh, no. You can’t.

You shake your head rapidly. “It’s okay, really—“

“Please?” his voice is painfully quiet.

He’s practically begging for you to look him in the eye.

And who were you to resist? He’s always been difficult to say no to. 

You know that more than anyone.

So, when Oikawa makes his way outside, opens his umbrella, and gestures for you to get under...

You do, despite the pure melancholy that swallows you whole.

One year ago.

You don’t remember how it got to this point. Had you known that dating someone would have so many consequences, you would’ve been a little more careful with your feelings.

Falling for Tooru was easy, but terribly dangerous. You learnt this the hard way.

What started out with cute little love notes adorned all over your locker ended with handwritten threats telling you to.....

You can’t even think about it because it had brought tears to your eyes the first time. You’d think one insulting note about your appearance was enough, but it had worsened - even when you were trying hard to stay optimistic. Soon enough, you had to take jabs about your skills, your mannerisms, and little by little, they became daily reminders of how every single thing about you will always fall short compared to your beloved, Tooru.

“.... I can’t do this anymore,” You say, your voice barely above a breath.

Oikawa’s limbs immediately lock in place. He looks up and sees the sad look in your eyes, the way they glisten with tears. No, no, no...

“Surely, you don’t mean...?” He can’t even finish his own sentence, because the thought is too scary.

But somehow, you finish for him. Just like you’ve always finished each other’s sentences, you’ve managed to finish this one, too. Except it doesn’t make him laugh and kiss your lips in utter adoration. This time, it’s gut-wrenching.

“Yes, I want to break up, Tooru.” Your words are firm and sure, but you... you are anything but.

Tooru has to prevent this somehow, but he’s not sure how. 

How do you tell someone to stay?

When staying risks their safety?

When staying puts them in pain?

As out-of-worldly as his skills may be, Oikawa Tooru is only human. You have brought him too much joy for it just to end like this.... With some nobody who can’t keep their jealousy to themselves. And despite the pain you’re going through, he wants you to stay.

So, he brings his hands up to your cheeks, taking you in in your entirety.

“Y/n...” He pleads with his eyes, and it’s the most desperate you’ve seen him. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knows he’s being selfish.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unable to form the right words in your mouth. Silently, you wrap your arms around his waist, so painfully slow, as if it was the last time you were going to hold him. As if to say sorry.

Sorry for what? You never did anything wrong.

He doesn’t bother to hug you back, because if he does, he’ll lose. Hugging you back will mean he’s also saying goodbye, and he’s not. He’s only just getting started with you. “We can’t...”

“We have to,” You force out, and he hates how absolutely rigid your words come out to be.

He shakes his head in denial. “No, we don’t.”

Your patience is running thin at this point. Because in truth, you tried. You always had, for him.

When the first note came, you didn’t tell him until weeks later. For months and months, you had put on a front to save his feelings and yours. At the time, pretending seemed like the best option.

But it wasn’t, because little did you know, pretending was a gateway to even more issues you had no idea was taking root in you. At this point, you’re not sure if you even know yourself anymore.

If you can’t understand yourself, does Tooru? Does he really love you, or does he just love the facade you put on?

Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t matter, because either way, you’re tired and in dire need of some healing. As terribly cruel as it may be, breaking up and focusing on yourself is truly the only way to be okay again. You may not be okay right now - if anything, the pain is excruciating - but the time will come. You have that much hope, at least.

“Yes, we do, Tooru,” you push onwards, pulling away from your embrace with a deep and sad frown tainting your features. “I love you - I really do - but I can’t keep pretending everything is okay. Those notes hurt, but that’s just the least of it... I just... need to be alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you finish with a sigh. He can’t even bring himself to ask why, because next thing he knew, you were out the door, making your way back home.

But what even was home at that point? Tooru was yours. Yet somehow, the foundation of love and passion wasn’t enough to keep it afloat.

Now.

“How are you?”

These are the first words that are spoken after ten long minutes of silence. Tooru - no, Oikawa is uncharacteristically awkward as he says them.

You’re not sure how to respond.

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve bluntly replied with a “fine”, but the question catches you off guard. When was the last time Oikawa Tooru asked you how you were?

So, so long ago.

It was never ‘how are you’ with him, but rather, ‘do you think aliens are real’ or ‘would you ever date an alien’. Or even, ‘do you know how much I love you’ or ‘what kind of house do you want to live in in the future’.

How did someone so near and dear to you become such a stranger?

You huff out a sigh, stopping your train of thought before it wanders off to somewhere it shouldn’t be.

“I’m okay,” you answer, holding back your tongue. You don’t even bother to ask ‘how are you’ back, because if you did, he’d probably answer with something so blunt and distant, you wouldn’t know how to react.

Yet, somehow, he doesn’t. Instead, he prods further, practically forcing a conversation on you. You’re not sure whether your thankful for it, or if it bothers you. No one likes an awkward silence, anyway.

“Do you still take the same way home?” He asks curiously, but his eyes are far-off, trained on the droplets of water that surround you two.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of question is that? “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I found a shortcut one day.”

He did?

How did he just find a shortcut? Out of nowhere, too?

“I know what you’re thinking.” He sighs, but it’s not out of irritation - at least, not towards you. “But I just.... one day, I was just walking around town and at the time, I was still hung up on you.”

“... So you found a shortcut to my house while that happened?”

“Yeah, basically,” he laughs at how foolish he sounds. Why is he even saying this?

“You can’t just tell me that,” you say, a little too coldly for his liking. “We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” he argues, and you swear, somehow, the rain gets louder. “I wanted nothing to do with it. Y’know, I would’ve heard you out if you just talked to me. We were best friends, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to say?” You stop in your tracks completely. “I know that at the time, I should’ve let you speak, but rationality doesn’t matter when you get daily notes telling you how ugly you are. I just needed it to end, somehow.”

Oikawa stops in his tracks, too. You’re no longer under the umbrella with him, instead you’re willingly getting soaked by the rain. From afar, this scene probably looks straight out of a drama.

He turns to face you in all your glory. Hair wet,  eyes glassy, and makeup-stained cheeks. It’s a beautiful, tragic mess.

“Did you believe anything they said about you?” He questions, so softly he’s not sure you can hear.

But you do. You always do.

“Sometimes,” you answer. It’s the first time you’ve been honest with him in a while. “Can you blame me?”

He frowns. “No, y/n.... I could never blame you, you know that?”

Did you?

To be fair, your sense of judgement back then was quite clouded. You didn’t know what to feel about yourself, and Tooru... you had just came to the conclusion that he deserved someone better. Someone who could take meaningless insults better.

You should’ve tried harder.

“I— it doesn’t matter anymore...” you reply. “It’s been a year, Tooru.”

You don’t even mean to say his first name, it just slips out naturally.

After a long pause, he sighs. 

“C’mere. You’re gonna get sick.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, walking forward into the shade of the umbrella. 

The next few minutes are a bit conflicting, to say the least. There are unspoken words hanging in the air that no one wants to say, nor think about. 

Oikawa’s grip around the umbrella is so unknowingly tight that he doesn’t even recognize the ache in his muscles. What good would it do to rekindle a fire that never really went out in the first place?

After the breakup, he never really... moved on. He watches, observes you from a distance, and when he works up the courage to approach you, you’re gone. As difficult as it was to find you again, he still notices things that give him hope.

 He notices how your gaze unknowingly lingers as he walks past the halls. How a small smile creeps up your lips when you hear that the boys’ volleyball club had won a match. 

You still care, he knows that much.

But is it worth trying to be close to you again?

“You don’t have to ever talk to me again after this if that makes you comfortable,” he tells you, his expression weirdly unreadable. “But let me just say this.”

He pauses his walking and turns to face you. His gaze on you is so intense, it practically compels you to meet his eyes. 

You don’t like where this is going. At all. Once you get too comfortable and stare too hard, you’ll fall into the same rabbit hole you got yourself into a year ago. Being in his mere presence is dangerous, and that’s why you were so adamant about avoiding him so much in the first place.

But he’s hypnotizing and so, so tempting. One second turns to five when you stare at his face.

“I miss you. Not even just in a romantic way, but you were my friend first,” he confesses, and the sincerity that follows his words shatters your heart. “I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

A lump forms in your throat but you’re too frozen in place to swallow it. Because you see him - the little freckles on his nose, the flush in his cheeks, the dreamy look in his eyes. They hold remnants of your second year in high school, when love was what it was supposed to be - exhilarating, healthy, and freeing. 

You see him on TV, hear his name in the halls, dream of tasting his lips when you’re asleep. There was never an escape even when you desperately tried to avoid him, and now that he’s right here in front of you, you actually have a chance to touch him. To kiss him.

And you want to. So, so badly. His lips look so terribly cold and lonely. 

But who were you to relieve that?

Good god, did you miss him.

“I miss you too,” you breathe out, weak in the knees at the force of his gaze. “I wish I didn’t take those notes so personally. Wish it didn’t come between us.”

He smiles. “So hard on yourself as always, y/n,” he says, a ghost of a chuckle leaving his lips. “Anyone would’ve lost their minds. I would’ve.”

“Yeah... But I should’ve told you earlier,” you argue. “Maybe then we would’ve resolved it—“

“You are not at fault for us falling apart,” He sounds confident - as if it was a truth. 

You don’t know why he keeps insisting it wasn’t your fault. It was. 

Your only argument back is, “... Was too.”

Tooru squints his eyes. Two can play this game.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was not.”

“Was too— oh, fuck off.” Your expression fades to a glare. 

Oh, how he missed this.

“But seriously, I never ever blamed you for what happened,” he prods firmly, making sure you get the idea into your pretty little head. The idea that he doesn’t hate you - never has, never will. “I just miss us. Do you think you could ever....?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Ever... what?”

A full on blush blooms across his cheeks. “Date me... again..?”

Now, it’s your turn to chuckle. “Seriously, you still want to? After all that shit?”

“Of course I want to, are you kidding me?” Tooru quips back, not wasting a second. “I’m crazy over you, y/n.”

That’s it.

You don’t even know what comes over you for what happens next. Before you could get a hold of your senses, your lips are on his. The taste is one you’ve had on your tongue countless of times, but this time, it’s so strange, so new.

Whatever unsaid apologies you never worked the courage to tell him take the form of this - your perfect lips, and your wandering hands. You two don’t even notice how the umbrella is long gone, allowing the rain to kiss you all over. 

He’s close, so close. His chest is pressed against yours and you can practically feel his bare skin through the thin, wet fabric of his uniform. It’s so intoxicating, you could pass out, right here and right now.

How did you ever give this up?

“I love you,” he whispers after pulling away, his hands cupping your cheeks and gazing at your face in its entirety. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

He doesn’t stop there, though. He nuzzles his nose into yours, then kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then plays with your hair.

You want to cry.

“You still... want me?” You ask, your voice painfully small. 

“Yeah, I still want you.” The grin on his lips don’t allow any room for question. “Do you still want me?”

“Yeah... Sadly,” you send him a cheeky smile back.

He flicks the back of your head, and soon enough, you two are kissing in the rain again.

Perhaps this is a sign that Oikawa Tooru is bound to you. He wants you endlessly, kisses like an absolute god, and unknowingly lives through all your worst days with you.

You wouldn’t mind if fate just so happened to like the look of you two together. Shitty, handwritten notes or not.

You like the look of Tooru with you, too.

[apinklion01]

Trailing Along the Dark

Day Thirteen, Twenty-Two, Day Twenty-Three, and Day Twenty-Nine: Condemned, Echo, Favor, and Void

A03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214308/chapters/86860249 <- Previous       Next -> No warnings this chapter!

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Jazz said as she and Danny exited the red car. The entrance of their new temporary school loomed ahead. “Hometown isn’t anything like Amity Park.” “Yeah, and they only seem to have monsters here,” Danny added.

“Jazz, Danny, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Toriel insisted from behind them. “While it’s true that humans are a rare sight to see here, we treat them with respect, just like Kris.”

Kris, Toriel’s kid, seemed to stare away from them. Though they didn’t give off a ghost scent, Danny couldn’t help but still feel uneasy around them. They rarely spoke, and the sounds he heard last night from their room upstairs…

Well, they were unsettling to say the least.

A school bell rang, causing Toriel to glance at her watch.

“Oh dear, we’re that late? Children, you best run, I don’t want your parents to know you were tardy today. The same goes for you as well Kris.”

“‘Kay, bye Toriel,” Danny said, already running ahead of them.

The school felt about as ancient as Casper High, but nothing inside seemed to give the slightest hint of human ghosts.

‘Well that’s a relief,’ He thought. ‘The last thing I need is to accidentally give Hometown a ghost problem.’

Amongst the monsters heading to their classrooms, he spotted a few humans. Dash, who gave a scowl; Wes, who made his typical ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ gesture; and finally Tucker and Sam, who he was relieved were among those sent to attend Hometown’s School.

“Oh hey you’re here!” Tucker said.

“Yeah, it’s a nice change from getting tardy from dealing with someone like the Box Ghost,” He said while rubbing his neck. “Speaking of which, I hope everyone back home is okay without me.”

“Hey, think of it like a vacation,” Sam said. “No dealing with ghouly bad guys, no Vlad, and best of all you don’t get chased around town from the GIW.”

Danny gave a reluctant nod in agreement. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Oh yeah, any idea where we’re supposed to go?” Tucker asked.

“Well it looks like we’re going to Kris' classroom.”

“Wait, who's Kris?” Sam questioned.

He opened his mouth to answer, but a poke on his shoulder made him give a yelp. Right behind him was the silent teen.

“Sheesh, a hello would’ve been better. Sam, Tucker, this is Kris. Kris, this is Sam and Tucker. They’re my friends. Try not to scare them?”

Kris gave a small laugh, which broke their neutral expression. Afterwards, they signed ‘Follow me’ with their hands.

The trio followed Kris’ lead. A few other monsters and the Casper high students walked toward the same hallway that led to a door. Inside awaiting them were a few monsters, Mr. Lancer, and a short yellow lizard-like monster with glasses and a green sweater.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker took their seats in a set of empty chairs in the back corner, perfect for the trio to pass notes to each other. Kris meanwhile sat right behind a bird-like monster. Both humans and monsters were whispering to each other about the strange situation.

“I’ve never seen so many monsters before,” Sam said. “I forget we’re rarer than them.”

“Yeah, it’s so weird,” Tucker agreed.

The school bell rang again, signaling that class had begun.

“Settle down students,” Mr. Lancer said, and slowly but surely everyone stopped whispering to each other.

“Alright then. I’m Mr. Lancer. I was a teacher from Casper High School at Amity Park until recent events caused the school to be condemned until it gets fixed. I’ll be a temporary co-teacher with Ms. Alphys, so for this week, you’ll be doing her assignments, but don’t expect me to forget the report you still owe me after we’re back at Casper High.”

He glanced at Ms. Alphys, who gave a small mumble after realizing it was her turn to speak. “O-Oh, yes, hi. I’m Ms. Alphys. I’m one of the teachers of Hometown School. I-I hope I can make all of you feel comfortable i-in my classroom during your stay. W-We’ll be partnering up monsters a-and humans to work on the group project assignment due by next week. A-Are there any questions?”

A snowy colored bird-like monster raised their wing. “Is it true that Amity Park’s haunted by human ghosts?”

“Umm, yes, I suppose so,” Mr. Lancer answered hesitantly.

“How many times have you seen a ghost?” A goth-looking cat asked with an intrigued voice.

“Well-”

“Yo, did you ever get possessed by a human ghost?”

“Once, yes-”

“Did Phantom wreck your school?”

Danny groaned internally on the inside. Technus and Skulker unfortunately learned about anime. The resulting mech they created destroyed a large part of Casper High during their most recent battle.

‘Man, I really screwed up big time. Who knows who could’ve gotten hurt, and it’s all cause I didn’t try to take the fight somewhere else.’

“A-Alright, I think that’s enough questions, students,” Ms. Alphys said, her hands gesturing for everyone to settle down. “N-Now why don’t we start pairing off the Casper High students to-”

The door slammed wide open as a purple dinosaur-like monster casually walked inside the room. She had dark hair and bangs that covered her eyes. Her hands were placed in her sweater which looked a bit big on her, and her pants were old and worn.

“...H-Hi Susie,” Ms. Alphys said, giving a nervous hand wave. “I-I’m afraid you’re tardy…”

“Oh, again? Whoops,” the monster replied before walking down to take a seat right next to Tucker.

“... A-As I was saying, you’ll all be partnered with each other now. Dash and Paulina, y-you’ll be partnered with Jockington and Catti.”

The snake from earlier and a goth-appearing cat glanced up to look at the humans. Dash and Paulina both appeared confused.

“Valerie and Wes, you’ll be partnered with Berdly and Noelle. Star and Hannah, you’re with Temmie and err, an egg… Danny, Sam, and Tucker will be with Susie and Kris, and finally, Kyle and Nost, you’ll be with MK and Snowy.”

As Ms. Alphys and Mr. Lancer began giving out instructions for the group project, Susie turned to give a creepy grin towards them, her razor-sharp teeth gleaming white. Tucker let out a quiet squeak, and even Sam shared a nervous glance at Danny.

“With that all done, I’ll go and start today’s lecture.” Ms. Alphys went to get a piece of chalk for the drawing board, but found none. After a few minutes of searching around, she gave a nervous laugh.

“Eheh, alright, who took my chalk? I won’t be able to start the lecture without it.”

The room was silent. The humans looked confused while every other monster glanced at each other with shrugs.

“You don’t have a projector?” Mr. Lancer asked.

“The school doesn’t have m-much of a budget I’m afraid, a-and we’re used to serving a smaller class,” Ms. Alphys replied quietly. “Ah, Susie, Kris, w-why don’t you go and get some more chalk from the supply closet?”

“...Okay,” the monster replied. She walked out and slammed the door behind her. Kris began walking out but more politely closed the door.

“W-Why don’t you three make sure they come back?” Ms. Alphys suggested, gesturing to Danny, Sam, and Tucker.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Mr. Lancer advised. “They have a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Oh nonsense, w-what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Susie definitely could get us into trouble,” Tucker whispered under his breath.

He sighed and put a hand over his face. “Alright, go do as Ms. Alphys says, but be back here quickly.”

The trio walked out the door. Before any of them had a chance to speak up, a loud thud echoed from behind them. All three slowly turned around to see Susie holding up Kris by their shirt against a locker.

“Quiet people piss me off. You think just 'cause you don't say anything I can't tell what you're thinking? I caught Susie eating all the chalk! This was her last chance! Now she'll FINALLY be expelled!”

Danny could make out Kris shivering under the monster’s grip.

“Haha... Come on Kris. Don't act shocked. You know it's true. Everyone's waiting for it, everyone wants it. So congrats, Kris. You got me, I'm done for! But just lemme say one little thing: seems like a waste to get expelled just for having a snack. So if I know you're gonna pull the trigger... Why don't I just get expelled for some real carnage?”

Susie turned her head slowly toward the human, revealing her teeth. “...How do you feel ... about losing your face?”

She opened her mouth, Kris’ head getting dangerously close. Danny caught a glimpse of the fear in their eyes. His core flared. No way he was letting this happen on his watch.

“Hey, leave them alone!”

Susie paused and then dropped Kris onto the floor. The quiet teen shuddered from the impact, but the monster hardly paid any attention to them as she walked up to Danny.

“...If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut when I’m around,” She threatened him as she poked a claw on his chest. “It’d be a shame if your parents would have to bring your corpse home.”

Danny’s breath hardened as he restrained the urge to fight back. ‘I don’t like Kris, but I don’t want them to get hurt,’ He thought to himself.

“We’re just here to make sure you get the chalk, and then we won’t have to talk to each other until we’re figuring out the project,” Sam answered, placing a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“So, do you mind chilling out for a moment?” Tucker added nervously.

The monster stared at them before letting out a small huff. “Fine... c’mon freaks.”

She shoved Danny aside and began walking down the hallway. He was starting to like the idea of being in the same class as Susie a lot less by the second. Tucker tried helping Kris get back on their feet, but they made a gesture to stop and got up themselves.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked.

Kris shook off dust from their pants and gave a thumbs up. ‘Let’s catch up,’ they signed.

The four of them caught up to Susie who began walking faster. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, but Danny’s ghost hearing picked up the sounds of other monsters in their classes, Toriel teaching a class with younger monsters, and…

'A room that sounds like the Ghost Zone?'

It disappeared as quickly as he noticed it, but Danny would have to take a look at it later. The five of them stopped at what he presumed to be the closet in question, its doors large enough to at least have a piece of chalk inside. “Well here's the closet,” Susie announced. “Too bad...We were just starting to have fun, haha-”

The closet’s doors flung open, a gust of wind rushing afterwards before stopping. A low hum began pulsing through, and the lights seemed to fade in and fade out.

“...You guys are sure you don’t have human ghosts here right?” Tucker said, breaking the silence. "What? No! At least... I think..." Kris however backed away with an unreadable expression, and even Danny had the same urge creep up.

The monster groaned. “Come on, we’ll just walk in there, at the same time and get this over with.”

The human looked unconvinced and began breathing loudly, but Danny tried giving them a look of encouragement. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

A pair of dark brown eyes were visible for a moment under their bangs before all four humans walked behind Susie.

The lights from the hallways only lit up a small portion of the closet. The floor was littered with papers of what looked like crumpled up crossword puzzles. Everything else was covered up by the pitch black darkness.

“See?” Susie said, turning around to face the others. “Why are you so scared? There's nothing in here but old papers. Let's try to find a lightswitch.”

A few feet inside, and Danny’s ghost vision already turned on, helping him make out the figure of the monster and Kris. He grabbed Sam and Tucker’s hands to help guide them, and they clutched him tensely.

Susie paused for a moment. “Guess it's further in…”

More footsteps echoed in the ever growing large space. The sound of the Ghost Zone grew closer, yet no ghosts were present at all.

“...Okay, this is getting ominous,” Sam said.

“Yeah, you'd think we'd reach the end by now…” Tucker said

Susie stopped, and Danny saw her attempt to find any surface to push again. He felt a chill go up his spine as he realized couldn’t make out any. “Hey, I think this closet's uh… Broken,” She said. “There aren't any walls.”

“... Well I for one think we should just head back to class,” Tucker suggested.

“I second four-eyes, let’s split.”

The five of them carefully went to the entrance, but out of nowhere the doors slammed shut. Susie pushed aside the humans and tried opening the door handle. “Wh-what the...!?”

“Here, let me try,” Danny asked, letting go of Sam and Tucker’s hands and walking up to see if he could force it open. But even channeling a bit of his ghost strength didn’t make the handle budge. “It’s locked!”

“Hey, if this is someone’s idea of a joke, this isn't funny,” the purple monster threatened before pounding the doors loudly with her fists. “LET US OUT! LET US…”

The room jolted and caused all of them to fall down onto the floor, but it didn’t stop shuddering. The five of them huddled close together before they heard something breaking.

“What’s happening?!” Sam yelled.

“I don’t know, but I think that-” Danny didn’t get to finish his sentence as the floor broke apart. He was too far away to grab onto Sam or Tucker, but he saw Kris falling right near him. If he could just reach-

There, the teen’s hand held onto his, and they yelled as they continued to fall. He didn’t see any of the others anywhere.

“Hold on!” Danny told them, unable to turn into a ghost without knowing if Kris wouldn’t tell anyone. The humming louder than ever, overwhelming his senses, it was too much for his core to handle-

And then just like that, everything turned black.

[anotherhellchild]

📂 i love your headcanons!

Aaahhhh thank you so much!! 

Alright so, in honour of ur username…. Imma spout a Dadzawa + Bakuson + cat headcanon 

(Quick shout out to @arschemy first tho! This was originally her idea and she really helped me <3)

The sun’s going down and Katsuki is on his way back to the dorms from his run. 

It’s cold out, not cold enough for a jacket but definitely cold enough for a long sleeved shirt. The sky is getting darker and Katsuki’s heavy breaths become visible after every short exhale. The boy’s maybe got another three or four kilometers left before he’s back at UA’s gates, he’ll probably be there in about ten minutes.

A small, dark gray dot appears on the light gray concrete about two meters away from Katsuki’s feet. Then another falls a little away from there. Soon, more specs materialize and before Katsuki knows it, rain starts pouring down all around him. The street is empty. His hair dampens and falls down his forehead, wet locks of blond hair cover the top of his eyes. Raindrops slide down his neck and partially soaked socks make every step uncomfortable. 

He should probably pick up the pace.

There’s a loud shriek. Or more accurately, there’s a loud shriek-like sound. 

The noise comes from the alleyway to Katsuki’s right and the teen halts his movement right away. 

Taking a couple steps back, Katsuki peeks past the corner of the wall. He’s just in time to see a cardboard box flip over and fall to the ground. After a moment of nothing, the thing knocks itself about three centimeters to the left.

Katsuki’s pretty sure unanimous objects aren’t supposed to be able to do that.

He should probably investigate this. 

Making sure to keep his footsteps light, Katsuki carefully steps closer to the box. He needs to be cautious, you never know who or what could pop out from under a box in a sketchy alleyway. 

mrrreowwww!

Oh. It’s just a fucking cat.

Great. 

Somewhere, deep in the teen’s heart, Katsuki’s honestly a little relieved. Everywhere else though, Katsuki feels really stupid. 

Not everything is out to get you, you fucking idiot.

Maybe he’s starting to turn a little paranoid.

The side of the box lifts up slightly, just enough for a little black paw to stick out from underneath. 

Katsuki stares.

A black nose nudges it’s way underneath the box too, it fits perfectly in the gap created by the small paw. Whiskers and pointy teeth poke out from under cardboard.

Soundlessly, Katsuki crouches down.

The cat's head nudges and squirms it’s way out from underneath the box, once the small, drenched face completely finds its way out of its cardboard prison, it freezes.

Katsuki doesn’t move.

Big, red eyes stare into his.

Neither of them blink.

Rain still falls around them. Fat drops of water crash to the ground and two creatures get soaked in a stare off.

The cat gives first, it carefully tilts its head before cautiously continuing the process of getting out from under the box. It’s eyes stay locked on Katsuki.

Katsuki blinks then, the movement is slow and he doesn’t dare move any other muscle.

The cat blinks back. The thing’s found its way out from the box and it takes a cautious step towards the blond. Its black, spikey fur is a little tangled and really wet. Its ears are back and flat against its head. The thing looks underfed, cold and ready to pounce.

Katsuki offers his hand.

The distance between the two is closed slowly. After a couple sniffles, the cat comes even closer, maybe it senses Katsuki’s warmth. Maybe it craves that warmth.

Fuck.

Katsuki didn’t think he’d be relating to a fucking alleycat when he left for his run an hour ago, yet here he is. 

The boy carefully gives the shivering creature a pat on its head. The thing immediately demands for more.

No.

Fuck. 

He can’t get attached to the fucking cat. He’s not even a cat person for fucks sake.

mew

A little black paw comes up to tap Katusuki’s hand after it paused in its movement. Big red eyes seem to glow in the dark.

Tch.

When the hell did he become so weak?

---

Katsuki prays to any deity that nobody hears him enter the dorms. He really really really does not need anybody talking to him right now.

The cat squirms around in Katsuki’s shirt. The thing’s still shivering a little bit, but it’s already much better than twenty minutes ago. It serves as a nice lil’ heater on Katsuki’s chest too.

After looking around to make sure the coast is clear, Katsuki makes a bee-line for the stairs. By some miracle, he actually manages to make it to his room undetected.

Once he’s got the cat inside, Katsuki does his best to help the little guy out.

First, he takes the thing to the showers. Luckily for them, it’s too early in the evening for anybody else to be around in the bathroom so they get all the space they need to clean/ warm up. 

It doesn’t take long for Katsuki to discover the hardest part of the whole ‘cleaning process’. Even though the damn thing is already soaking wet, it absolutely refuses to touch the warm, clean water Katsuki prepared for it. Lets just say that giving the cat a much needed bath has earned the boy quite a couple scratches. 

The cat’s an annoying lil’ beast.

After both of them are all cleaned up though, it’s easy for Katsuki to brush the tangles out of the cat’s fur. The animal doesn’t put up any fuss and it actually seems to lean into the touch.

Katsuki finds some dinner for the both of them after all that is said and done. The cat desperately needs some food and water and although there isn’t any cat food in the dorms, they both make due with some random things Katsuki finds in the kitchen.

It’s too late to go out to a pet store right now, that’s just going to have to be done tomorrow.

The rest of the night, Katsuki and the cat just chill together. Katsuki honestly never knew watching a cat chase a laser could be so entertaining.

This kind of sucks, he thinks a couple hours after he found this monstrosity of a creature stuck under a fucking cardboard box in some random alleyway. 

He looks down to where the bundle of black fur is curled up on his chest, the damn thing is purring and maybe maybe it's definitely already earned a special spot in Katsuki's heart.

I can’t keep you.

Katsuki knows he can’t. It would be unfair to the cat and it would be too selfish of him.

It’s not like he wants it this way, but he knows- he knows the cat deserves better.

So, there’re really only two options:

1) Take the cat to a shelter. It’d probably find a good home to live in. There’s no guarantee that would be the case though.

Or

2) … Aizawa’s birthday is coming up. Katsuki hasn’t thought about what he wants to give his sensei yet but, everyone knows the man has a soft spot for strays. 

Yeah, Katsuki’s already made up his mind.

---

It’s been a suspiciously normal birthday so far. Shota’s a little over 15 hours into the day and somehow, with his hell class, nothing drastic has happened yet. It’s almost unsettling, not that Shota’s complaining of course. He just… isn’t used to this relative normalness. 

Whatever, he’s decided to just enjoy it. Perhaps the gods have finally decided to grant him a small break and the least Shota could do is accept that.

Anyway, Shota’s almost done giving his feedback speech to the kids and once it’s over, he’ll finally be free to take a much deserved nap. 

“All in all, you guys did a good job today. Each of you know what you need to improve on individually so make sure you do. Dismissed.” 

The class tiredly falters to the changing rooms at his words, except one stays where he is. The sight makes Shota sigh.

This is gonna be trouble, he thinks. The particular kid who's decided to stay behind is kind of notorious for- well he’s notorious for a bunch of things, but Shota will just use the word ‘danger’ for now.

Bakugou walks towards him as soon as the rest of the class is gone.

“Hey teach, I uhh gotchu somethin’.” The absolute hell child kind of awkwardly scratches the back of his head with those words. It’s obvious he’s having trouble with this, nevertheless Shota is incredibly proud of how far he’s come with his people skills. “Happy birthday I guess.”

Bakugou hands him a small, poorly wrapped package.

Honestly, Shota’s pretty surprised by the gesture. He… wasn’t expecting this. The class has already congratulated him with cake and gifts this morning, it was cheesy and sappy and sweet and it was done. The moment has already been had and it’s also already passed. Now Bakugou, of all people, is showing an extra form of affection towards him with whatever is wrapped in that paper.

Has the kid been hit with a quirk or something?

Unwrapping the package, Shota discovers... a collar. 

Oh god.

It’s red with black seams on the outside and black with red seams on the inside. 

Shota’s getting a very foreboding feeling about this, he’s also quite confused.

The man looks up to find Bakugou smirking.

“You can flip it around so either the black or red side shows.” The boy says.

“Bakugou, wha-?” 

“I chose this colour cause it matches with his eyes.”

The kid crosses his arms over his chest. Somehow, the smirk on his face grows, an unnamed feeling in Shota’s chest grows with it. 

“Also, I haven’t gotten a name tag yet cause I figured you’d want to name him yourself. Personally, I kinda liked ‘Dynamite’, but it’s obviously up to you though.” 

Shota gulps. Pieces are falling together and he’s not sure he likes the picture they show. 

What exactly did his devil spawn student do?

There’s no way- did he? Did he do what Shota thinks he’s done?

“Alright alright, look.” The kid says, hands up in a defensive stance. “Calm down sensei, jeez. Stop looking at me like you’re having a heart attack. I’ll explain, Okay?”

Shota takes a deep breath. He will show now sign of hope or excitement on his face.

“I was out on a run last week and I found a stray cat. I brought it back to the dorms cause it looked like shit and I- I just didn’t wanna leave it there.” Bakugou frowns at that, his gaze tears away from Shota’s and focuses on the ground instead. “Whatever. It’s really sweet and it deserves a good home. I knew you really liked cats and with your birthday coming up and all I just kinda figured you might want him? If you don’t then that’s fine of course, I just- hmph. It’s a good cat, okay?” The words are spoken clearly, Shota knows they’re used to hide insecurities though. Katsuki’s on the defensive.

There’s a lot to unpack. The main thing Shota notes is that Katsuki’s clearly gotten attached to this cat of his. 

To be honest, Shota’s already made up his mind about this. 

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been hiding a cat in your dorm room for a week now? You’re aware that’s against the rules right?” He keeps his voice calm and monotone.

The kid huffs. “Yeah, I have. And I do. I wanted to wait till your birthday to give him to you though, it’d kinda spoil the surprise if I told you.”

“True.” Shota stands up, thank god his capture weapon is there to hide his smile. 

Katsuki looks up to him and there’s a bit of a pause. He stares at Bakugou and Bakugou stares right back.

 “Well, am I going to be allowed to meet Dynamite or what?” Shota says, one brow quirked up in challenge.

Bakugou releases a breath, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, you better take good care of him though, sensei. You won’t be forgiven if you don’t.” There’s a smirk on the boy’s lips, but his eyes are dead serious.

A fucking shovel talk.

Heh, leave it to his hell child to give such a casual yet intimidating shovel talk about a cat. 

Pretty impressive.

He’ll be a fine hero, Shota thinks.

---

So, Dynamite is a fucking angel. Shota loves him and it’s no wonder Bakugou got so attached to him, the cat literally follows the boy around everywhere and Bakugou is definitely its favorite person.

It’s kind of nice, seeing the kid relax and let loose whenever he comes over to the teachers dorm for the creature. It happens quite often and Shota even brings the thing over to the dorms sometimes, just so Bakugou can hang out with it for a while.

What? It’s good to see the kid’s shoulders slump down whenever Dynamite sits on his lap. Bakugou absentmindedly strokes soft, black fur and the actions automatically makes his guard drop, albeit slightly. 

Honestly, at this point Dynamite isn’t even his cat anymore. It’s his and Bakugou’s cat.

Shota doesn’t mind.

[jungshookz]

CHAPTER FOUR; The basement.

(1) it begins; (2) a cry for help; (3) the investigation

Warning: Slightly graphic descriptions of violence depicted. Read at your own risk.

                            Player has chosen: [B] Go into the room. 

“okay.” you whisper to yourself, turning to look over your shoulder to make sure that the corridor’s really been replaced by a wall and that you’re not just imagining things, “it’s fine! we’re fine. i’m fine.”

this is fine

it’s fine that the corridor has disappeared

it’s fine that taehyung has also disappeared

and it’s fine that you’re about to willingly go into a dark room in a musty old house by yourself

everything’s fine!

the unfortunate reminder that your match isn’t going to last forever is the thing that finally gets you to lift one foot of the ground

you’d very much not like to be left alone in the dark because you don’t know if you can handle another change in scenery

thump

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you approach the door, reaching out cautiously before wrapping your fingers around the doorknob

thump

you try to keep your other hand as still as possible as to not blow out the flame

that’s the last thing you need right now

the door creaks lowly as you pull it open, and almost immediately, you’re hit with the warm smell of… well, the only way to describe the smell is swampy

your nose wrinkles in disgust before you take the first step down, the wooden stairs squeaking underneath your feet

thump

you immediately freeze upon hearing another thump and it takes you a couple of seconds to decide whether you should say something or not

it’s probably best if you do

you don’t want to have to go down all the way only to find that there’s no one there because that would just be a complete waste of time and resources

“h-” you find that your throat is dry and you clear it quietly before trying again, “h-hello?”

…

…

…

the silence that you receive in response is unsettling, and you swallow nervously before trying again, only a little louder this time, “hello?”

…

…

…

you glance back towards the door, wondering if you should leave or not

you’re just about to turn and head out when suddenly you hear a quiet-

“y/n?”

it takes a couple of seconds for your brain to process whose voice that is

“nam- namjoon?” you perk up, feeling your heart rate slow a little at the thought of being reunited with him, “is that you?” 

at least now you know he’s safe

you can’t help but wonder if jungkook and jimin have found the others yet

“yeah! i-it’s me!” namjoon responds, his voice barely above a whisper, “where- where are you?”

oh thank GOD

“hold on, i’m coming-” you carefully make your way down the wooden staircase, holding onto the dusty railing so that you don’t trip and fall flat on your face

knocking yourself out would not be the most ideal of situations

when you make it to the bottom of the staircase, you’re ecstatic to see not only that a) it’s really namjoon and that he’s totally fine, and b) he has a flashlight!

it’s the mini one that he keeps attached to his keys

and you’ve made fun of it counTless times because when,.,. when would anyone ever need a mini flashlight.,,. a pocket knife, maybe- but a teeny little flashlight?? whEN??

you’re definitely glad that he decided to keep it even after all the ruthless bullying because a flashlight is way better than your little match

speaking of your match

“oh, shit-” you quickly blow it out when the flame starts to tickle at your fingertips before tossing the burnt stick to the ground

namjoon turns around from where he’s rummaging through drawers and his mouth turns up in a bright smile when he sees that it’s really you, “y/n! you have nO idea how relieved i am to see you-!”

you squint when he shines the light directly at you and you hold your hand up to shield your face, “okay, you’re going to blind me in a second-”

“whoops, my bad-“ namjoon smiles sheepishly before raising it again and shaking it slightly, “but, hey! this is exactly why i keep a mini flashlight as a keychain. you never know when you’ll need it!”

you make your way over to him, peeking into the empty drawer that he opened before looking over at him and jabbing your finger into his arm, “are you okay? any injuries?”

“oh, i’m fine.” namjoon snorts, waving his hand at you, “no scratches or bruises of any kind. are you okay?”

“yeah. i was a little sore when i woke up, but i’m fine now.” you hum, turning to head towards the rocking chair sitting in the middle of the room

you could use a break!

your feet are aching

“also- woah-” your heart rate spikes a little when the chair rocks back a little further than intended and you quickly lean forward to balance yourself, “please tell me you were the one making those thumping noises. i can’t afford another spook.”

“oh, yeah! that was me.” namjoon nods before knocking against the top of the drawers, “these old drawers are pretty hard to open and close, so the back of them kept bumping against the wall every time i shut them.”

“thank god.” you mutter to yourself, leaning back against the chair and tilting your head up before closing your eyes

you would kill for a nap right now

you would kill to be in your own bed right now

it makes you feel a lot better knowing that things are pretty normal down here, though

no strangely large dust particles or weird shadows bouncing here and there

“you know, you’d think that they’d have, like… tools lying around here somewhere. an emergency flashlight, or spare batteries… something.” namjoon grumbles, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “i’ve basically flipped this entire basement upside down and i haven’t found anything remotely useful.”

“yeah, same with the bedroom that kook and i woke up in.” you sigh, shaking your head, “actually- jungkook had a flashlight and then afterwards, he found a bat- say, why didn’t you just leave this room?” you open your eyes and tilt your head back down before gesturing towards the staircase

namjoon’s eyes immediately widen and he shakes his head, “are you kidding me? nothing good ever happens when you leave a room. and nothing bad’s happened to me so far, so i say my theory is pretty darn accurate.”

he sits down on the ground in front of you before crossing his legs and shining the flashlight up at you

“i guess that’s a fair point. better to be safe than to be sorry…” you trail off, “this place is… something’s not right about this place.”

“what do you mean?” namjoon’s brows furrow in confusion, “as far as i know, this is just an old, dusty house.”

the memory of what happened literally three minutes ago pops into your mind but you’re not sure whether you should bring it up or not because.,., well, it sounds crazy

but to be fair, this situation is crazy!

“okay, well, i- a second ago-” you lean forward and lower your voice as you speak, “i was with taehyung, and then my match burnt out, and when i re-lit one, he… he was gone. i don’t know how it happened, but he just… disappeared. oh, and-”

“are you sure he didn’t just hide around the corner or something?” namjoon snorts, “knowing tae, he’d take full advantage of being in a house with a bunch of secret doors and dark corners.”

“i mean, he already scared me one time, but- no, this was different. this was… you see, the- the corridor- it was, like, it-” you’re struggling to find the words the explain the situation in a way that it would make sense, but it’s difficult because it literally doesn’t make anY sense at all

how the hell did the corridor disappear?

was there even a corridor in the first place?

but if there wasn’t, then how would you have gotten here?

“actually, i…” namjoon interrupts before pausing, “it’s… i don’t know. eh, it’s probably nothing.”

“what?”

“nothing, i just… i mean, i was probably just imagining things, i don’t know…”

“c’mon, tell me!” you nudge his leg gently with your foot before leaning back against the rocking chair

it’s surprisingly comfy

“it’s just that-” namjoon sits up straight and clears his throat, “okay, you know that state you’re in when you’re half-asleep and half-awake at the same time? like- kinda like when your alarm goes off in the morning, and your body just goes on auto-pilot to shut it off- you’re not fully aware that you’re shutting it off, but your body’s just doing it- you know, you’re conscious but also not that conscious-”

“uh-huh-“

“yeah, so i was kind of in and out of it before i fully woke up, and at one point, i swear that yoongi was in the room with me.” namjoon frowns, “like- i was sitting in the rocking chair when i fully woke up, but before that, when i was semi-conscious, i was sure that yoongi was lying a couple feet away from me right over there.” he turns over his shoulder to point towards the area by the bottom of the staircase, “he was on his stomach with his head turned towards me- well, then i passed out again, and when i opened my eyes the next time, he… he wasn’t there anymore. i just- he was there! it wasn’t just a bunch of clothes or a couple of empty cardboard boxes piled up together- yoongi was here. i know he was.”

yeah

if you ever need more proof of this house being not quite a normal house… this would make solid evidence

you’re not really sure how to respond to namjoon

you don’t wanna tell him that stranger things have happened because you knoW he gets nervous really easily

and you don’t wanna have to deal with a jittery namjoon anD a weird-ass house at the same time

there’s only so much you can handle!

“we… should probably get out of here.” you clear your throat before getting up off the rocking chair and dusting your bum off, “there’s no use in waiting for the others to come for us… plus, i said that we were all supposed to go back to our meeting spot in twenty minutes, and i’m pretty sure it’s nearing twenty minutes-”

“yeah, i guess you’re right-” namjoon gets up off the ground and blinks owlishly at you when you stick your hand out, “are… are we going to hold hands?”

“what?” you snort, “no. gimme the flashlight-”

“why do you get to lead the way?” namjoon pouts, pulling his hand away before you get a chance to snaTch the flashlight from him

“oh, i’m sorry-” you step aside before gesturing up towards the door, “would you like to do the honours, brave knight?”

“maybe i would-” namjoon looks up at the door and immediately clams up

it’s

uh

it’s pretty dark out there

he immediately hands you the flashlight and you roll your eyes playfully

yeah

that’s what you thought

“so, do you know where we’re going?”

“i don’t, because this house is a literal maze, but i’m sure we’ll be able to make it back to the main-” you step out from the room, tilting your head curiously when you realise that the wall has disappeared and the corridor leading back to the kitchen has mysteriously returned, “…area.”

you keep quiet as you take a couple of steps forward, sticking your arm out and waving it around in the open air to make sure that this isn’t a weird illusion or anything

huh

it’s brighter now because of the moonlight streaming into the kitchen, but…

what the hell?

“that’s… huh.” you mutter to yourself before shaking your head, “very… huh.”

“what’s the matter?” namjoon asks before turning to look over his shoulder down the long, dark hallway

he doesn’t know where that leads to but he certainly doesn’t want to find out

he shudders before wrapping his arms around himself

hopefully you don’t decide to take that route

you turn around to shine the flashlight on namjoon, “well, okay, i know i’m going to sound crazy, but just bear with me for a second- well, there was a corridor, you see- this corridor, to be specific- but when my match died and tae disappeared and all that, the corridor actually-” you suddenly stop talking upon noticing a speck of dust float past namjoon’s head and you follow it with your eyes warily

“actually what?” namjoon frowns, scrunching his nose when the dust tickles the tip of it, “why’d you stop talking?”

“just… wait…” you whisper, following the speck with your light

you don’t quite know how to feel about the dust yet… because the last time you saw dust, it led you here

…hey, wait!

it led you here!

to namjoon!

huh

maybe the dust is like,.,. some kind of a guide or something?

maybe it’s trying to help you get out of this place!

that’s definitely a good thi-

“woAH-!”

all of a sudden, namjoon collapses to the ground, a groan of pain slipping past his lips when his forehead smacks against the floor, “what the fu-!”

everything seems to happen so rapidly and you don’t even get a chance to react before he’s suddenly being dragged backwards by an unknown force, your eyes widening in horror at the sight

“Y/N! HELP ME!” namjoon hollers, digging his nails into the floorboard in a poor attempt to anchor himself and aVOID being pulled back by whatever has its grips around his ankles

“NAMJOON!” you immediately fall to your knees before scrambling forward, the flashlight clattering to the ground as you reach over to grab onto namjoon’s hands

he’s holding onto your hands so tightly to the point that you can barely feel them but you’re gripping onto his hands just as hard

you manage to get back up onto your feet, though you’re still crouching down slightly

being on your feet gives you a little more leverage and you feel like you have a better grip on namjoon’s hands

you wince when you feel the muscles in your arms starting to strain from how strenuous this is, “h-hold on, namjoon! hold on!”

you curse to yourself when you end up falling back on your knees, but you quickly put one leg up to try to pin yourself down to the spot

all of a sudden, whatever’s in the darkness yanks namjoon back particularly roughly and you quickly fumble to trap both of namjoon’s wrists under your armpits so that you can grab onto his forearms  

“i’ve got you, i-”

it’s only a second later that you hear a sickening CRACK and consequently feel both of namjoon’s arms giving out slightly

“oh, GOD-!” you feel sick to your stomach when you realise that both of namjoon’s arms have dislocated from their sockets because of how hard he’s being pulled in both directions

“MY ARMS!” namjoon sobs hoarsely, his face scrunching up in discomfort, “IT HURTS- OH, GOD, IT HURTS- Y/N, HELP ME-”

“j-just hold on, namjoon, don’t- NO!”

namjoon’s arms slip from your grip before slumping onto the ground, and before you know it-

“Y/N, PLEASE! PLEASE, I DON’T WANNA DIE-!”

you catch one final glimpse of his face before he completely disappears into the darkness

“NAMJOON!” your chest rises and falls rapidly as you grab the flashlight up off the ground and quickly get back up onto your feet, the sounds of namjoon’s helpless screams and his body being violently tossed around echoing down the dark hallway

What do you want to do?

> [A]: Follow Namjoon! There’s no time! You have to save him!

> [B]: You need help! You clearly can’t save him alone! Go find the others now! 

Place your vote here.

You have one hour.

Good luck.

[ineloqueent]

angel of lies | one

Brian x Fem!Reader / Roger x Fem!Reader

synopsis: welcome to the opera populaire. be careful what you wish for.

warnings: tw; mention of blood

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in honour of my birthday (i flatter myself), the much-procrastinated, long-awaited (?) saga begins! a massive thank you to jess ( @brianmays-hair​ ) and pearl ( @deacyblues​ ), the masterminds behind the premise of this fic. if you have not already guessed, this is most definitely a phantom of the opera au.

~⚘~

The stage was alive with sound.

With movement it crawled, such that from a distance it appeared to be shimmering, for the headdresses of the dancers sparkled like mirrorballs, casting flecks of light throughout the theatre like stars.

In the grand foyer, glittering crystals dripped from the ceiling, and shadows chased the balustrade statues that raised candelabras above their marble heads.

The place hummed with life, typical of the pre-show hustle and bustle, where every inch of floor was populated by activity, each person more frantic than the next, and the frenzy was only building by the minute.

The theatre became louder as the shouts grew more frequent, and the poor conductor was struggling to raise his voice over the clamour, the prima donna of the production now doing the most orchestration, in terms of chaos.

You sighed, and Meg rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long night.

Meg’s brother shot her a warning look.

We cannot afford to lose our leading lady, his look said.

“Yes, Monsieur Giry,” Meg mocked, but only when his back was turned.

“I heard that,” John hissed as he passed his sister.

But Meg only laughed.

You shook your head at her. “You really oughtn’t annoy your brother like that. He has the power to fire you from here, you know.”

“Oh, but it’s so funny when he gets like that,” Meg said. “His hair always bounces whenever he leaves in a huff.”

You stared after John, whose mound of hair really did bounce when he walked. You smiled.

Then, one of the owners of the opera, a man with dark hair and dark irises to match, made a grand gesture, and all eyes followed his hand. “Darlings, may I present the Vicomte de Chagny.”

Your heart caught in your throat, and you found that you couldn’t remember as to why Meg was giggling by your side.

It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be him.

Could it?

In your disbelief, your mouth fell open, because there, at centre stage, being introduced as the new patron of the Opera Populaire, was Roger.

Golden-haired, blue-eyed Roger, sweet and silly, who, in your childhood, had been a companion closer to you than your own shadow. You had no fonder memories than those in which he made an appearance, laughing happily as the two of you traded stories of goblins and the rain lashed against the windows of the attic, as your father, long passed, played his violin by candlelight, as Roger shared with you the last of the chocolate.

There would never be a day when you did not think of him.

“Y/N?” Meg intoned.

“Roger,” you whispered, unable to do anything but watch him and his smiling eyes, as he shook hands with the opera personnel.

Meg frowned, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to see above the gathering crowd, but she was unsuccessful. “The Vicomte? What of him?”

A smile flickered across your face as you murmured, “I guess we could say we were childhood sweethearts.”

Meg’s eyes widened in your peripheral vision. “Y/N, he’s so handsome,” she said.

“What,” you laughed, “do you think he’s too good for me?”

Meg pushed you lightly. “No, of course not. If anything, I’m just surprised that there are still attractive people left in the world. And god, you’re lucky to have had one of them.”

You flushed, “Meg! I have not had him, as you so indelicately put it. And he was never mine.”

“I believe I am keeping you for rehearsal, Signor,” Roger told the owner of the opera in his airy manner. He spoke rather like a prince, you thought, with his long vowels and sharp consonants, and the way his voice hummed with a cadence, as though his words were meant to be a song.

“Oh please, with the formalities,” the opera director waved a hand. “Freddie.”

“Freddie,” Roger nodded. “Well, I’ll be here this evening, to share in your great triumph!”

He shook hands with the company once more, and then departed through the wings on the opposite side of the stage.

Your heart sank a little as he left. But then again, it had been many years ago that you had seen him last, and so much had changed since then.

“Y/N?” Meg asked.

You shook your head. “He wouldn’t recognise me.”

“Of course he would,” Meg assured you, a hand on your sleeve. “He didn’t see you, that’s all.”

You weren’t so sure.

“I have a message, sir,” John was saying to the owners of the Opera Populaire. “From the Opera Ghost.”

“Oh god in heaven!” cried Freddie. “You’re all obsessed.”

John blinked, irritated at being interrupted, but deigning to continue nonetheless. “He welcomes you to his opera—”

Freddie snorted indignantly, “His opera?”

“And commands that you continue to leave Box Five empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due.”

The discussion continued, with an outrage on Freddie’s part, concerning the paying of a salary for someone who was not even real, and your thoughts wandered back to Roger.

He had scarcely returned to your life for a handful of minutes, and yet, your infatuation had already taken ahold once more. You wondered faintly if he had ever thought of you the way you still thought of him.

But then you were thrown from your reverie, as a cry erupted from the crowded stage.

“He’s here!”

“Who?” you said, alongside everyone else in the theatre.

Meg clutched at your arm as a hush fell over the room.

“The Phantom of the Opera,” another person shouted. “Up in the rafters!”

Gasps and whispers sparked all around, and you whirled in the same direction as your companions, each of you straining your eyes in an attempt to see past the darkness of the rigging.

One of the opera directors called for silence.

“There’s no one there,” he said, and the masses fell calmer again, turning away from the rear of the stage and grumbling about making a fuss over nothing.

But you didn’t turn away; you stared into the abyss.

And then a shadow swept across the scaffolding, like dark fabric tossed in a wind, like a cloak, or a cape, and you gave a shout.

“There!” you said, your heart thudding with adrenaline, and Meg whirled in the direction of your raised arm.

“Where, where?!” she cried, but the longer she looked, the more obvious it became that whatever had previously been there was no longer.

You lowered your arm, a little dejectedly.

“Never mind,” you murmured, a crease forming between your eyes. “I thought I saw something, but I suppose I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Meg frowned, looking as disappointed as you felt.

But even as she turned away, you couldn’t tear your eyes from what you’d seen.

Because you knew what you’d seen.

You’d seen eyes— hazel— staring right back at you.

~⚘~

The darkness came so easily these days. He did not even have to turn to the shadows for it to eclipse the light. It was there at the corner of his eye, a soft whisper at his ear, a constant presence that was as calming to him as it would have been unsettling to any other.

The darkness had never drawn back in fear at the countenance of his face. The darkness had never told him that he was unloved and would forever remain unloved. The darkness had never cast him from his home, and forced him to cower in the cold when the snow bit at his skin, exposed by the coat he could not afford to own.

The darkness had always been there.

And yet, it was darkness, and so by definition, it was never really there at all. It was the absence of all things, and nothing can come from nothing.

But she was not nothing.

The light she carried in her voice, in her shoes. She was as light on her feet as she was in her spirits, and it made him want to change.

But he knew naught of change, and so it would not come.

Not without her.

But with her… Perhaps.

~⚘~

The production had barely begun, and yet Roger was already leaning over the banister to bring himself closer to the stage, as close as he dared to go without tumbling into the audience on the lower level.

He had hardly been able to believe his eyes, his ears, when she had taken to the stage. For all he could tell, her shimmering gown might well have been made from the waters of a moonlit river, and her eyes bore the same gentle glow they had always borne, and her voice was as beautiful as ever. Roger wondered if she would deny her talent still, if he were to tell her of it again, this day.

He could not deny the warmth which spread through him at the sight of her, and nor did he wish to. He would bring her flowers after the performance and tell her again of her talent.

And maybe, he would tell his Little Lotte what he had never been able to tell her all those years ago.

Maybe he would tell her that he loved her.

The production had barely ended before Roger had left his place on the balcony, in favour of hurrying down the stairs to where he would not miss seeing her.

Her. The only one who mattered.

~⚘~

Their calls echoed, praise upon praise where none before had existed, where previously you had lived in an echo chamber of your own mind, where you had been forced to endure the clamour of every voice that hissed— not good enough, not good enough, you’ll never be good enough.

Where had they been when the desperation had settled into the hot blood that coursed through your veins, painted your toes in horrible hue when you had danced for too many nights without a penny to show for it? Where had they been when your father had died and you’d have given your voice itself to have him back, to feel once more the touch of hand upon your shoulder, assuring you that he was there, that you were there?

Where had they been?

Their affectations you would have wished to endure as little as you wished to endure the echo chamber inside your head, for they would have shouted if a man had ridden a horse across the wooden framework of the stage.

But there was another sound. There had always been another sound.

In the darkness there was a solace— a comfort, almost— and a low, steady hum.

A voice.

An angel. Your father had always promised you that there would be an angel.

And he had been right.

An angel of music, to light the quiet moments between your thoughts, when friends were few and the cold grew monstrous teeth.

There had always been music in your ears— a tune to be hummed, a dance to be danced— and you could not quell the urge to sing when it came to you. That was how you had found your way to the Opera. It had called to you, far stronger than anything you had felt since your father had passed, since Roger had left.

Roger.

He was here. And he was here tonight. What had he thought of the show? Of you? Or were your fears to be realised, that he had not recognised you at all?

The candle in your peripheral vision flickered, subject to the whims of a draft.

The wind does not whisper indoors.

A shiver ran down your back, as sure there had been fingers to skim down your spine, the softness of the action turned sinister by the anonymity of the hand.

And then— again— a voice.

It bristled on the air like electricity, like a live wire simply waiting for the right person to make contact and ignite a fire.

It prickled on the back of your neck.

You turned, your movements slowed by a strange sort of fear, and yet, you wanted to know whose voice it was. You intended to make that contact, for so long had you lived without any sort of fire at all, and you were tired of being burned out.

“Where in the world have you been hiding?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Meg’s call reached your ears, the sound of her dainty footsteps growing more distinct as she approached. The shadow at the corner of your eye was snuffed out as surely as any flame.

You felt your shoulders lower ever so slightly, half in relief, half in disappointment.

You had been so close to knowing that the lack of knowledge was now almost too much to bear.

“Really,” she went on, with a little huff. “You were perfect. I only wish I knew your secret.”

“Meg,” you said, and she tilted her head like a curious fawn. “When your brother brought me here to live… whenever I come down here alone to light a candle for my father, a voice from above and in my dreams…” You trailed off, thinking of the soft baritone you could call to mind at will, it was so frequently present. “He was always there,” you murmured. The memories lulled you, quieted your senses, as though you were walking in a dream. “You see, when my father lay dying, he told me I will be protected by an angel. An angel of music. I used to dream he’d appear…”

You were quite sure that Meg had made a response to your musings, but you were not well aware of what that response had been, and nor could you find it in you to care. There remained suddenly only a singular thought within your head, and that was who? Who was the voice? He was the darkness, you were sure of it. He was the comfort, the peace amidst the chaos of the world, but he was evasive, the unseen genius. You longed to know the face of such an angel. You did not know for how much longer you could go on not knowing.

You blinked, and became conscious of the fact that you were no longer in the chapel. Meg had led you from it, and the two of you now weaved behind the screen, in the space between the stage and its rigging, your friend leading you by the hand.

“Y/N, your hands are cold,” she whispered, and her own face was pale, a mask of terror.

You wriggled your fingers slightly in her grasp. She was right; you felt as though the warmth had left your very blood. But though your skin was cold, you were not. You burned brighter than ever, as bright as the candle you lit, night after night, in the memory of your father.

“I know,” you answered. “But I am not frightened.”

~⚘~

It was John whom you saw first, following the show.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, and when he smiled, you thought that perhaps he considered you family as much as he did Meg. It made you feel a little less alone in the world.

“You did well, Y/N,” he said.

Then, to your puzzlement, he handed you a single red rose, upon the stem of which was tied a silk ribbon, in a pretty bow which shimmered onyx black in the dimly lit dressing room.

You had the strangest feeling, looking at that bow. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu, as though you’d somehow seen that exact shade of black before. In a dream, perhaps. Or in another life, if there were such things.

A shadow stirred at the corner of your eye, but when you turned to confront it, there was nothing but light bouncing off of the walls, and John nowhere to be found.

And Roger, standing in the doorway, with his familiar half-smile and eyes that glinted with mischief, a bouquet of flowers over one arm.

“Little Lotte thought,” he began, his smile growing as he made his way toward you, “am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins of shoes, or of riddles or frocks—”

“Those picnics in the attic,” you said, and your smile mirrored his.

“Or of chocolates,” Roger continued with a wink, setting down the flowers.

They surfaced in your mind, those memories. Bathed in golden light as though the sun shone upon them through stained glass windows, their images rendered divine in their innocence, their happiness. “Father playing the violin…”

“As we read to each other dark stories of the North,” Roger reached you and sank to his knees, his tone soft and playful and all those things you’d missed about him since before you’d known he’d be gone.

“No,” you whispered, and you thought that his eyes had never been as blue as this. Wider than the sky and bluer than the deepest of seas, cerulean and sapphire and everything in between. Every shoal and reef one could have imagined to exist shimmered in his irises, a whole other world, and it belonged to him.

And it belonged to you, when you looked at him.

“What I love best, Little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed…”

A tingle rushed down your spine as he drifted closer to you, so exquisite in his stillness, the prettiness of his being that suddenly assaulted your senses like the smell of roses.

Roses. A rose. With a black ribbon.

A gift—

“And the angel of music sings songs in my head.”

His smile grew until you thought it would take over his face entirely, and then he embraced you, tightly.

Oh, how you’d missed him and the feeling of being held in his arms, the way your chin fit perfectly on his shoulder and his cheek rested against your cheek.

“You sang like an angel tonight,” he murmured, and you sighed into the crook of his neck.

He pulled back again, and you relished the way his gaze lingered on your own, as though he could not look away, and even had he been able to, would have had no mind to do so either.

“Father said, when I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.” Roger blinked, as though resurfacing from the depths of a dream, and you perceived a change in him. “Well, father is dead, Roger, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music.”

He gave a little laugh, and there it was at once, that which had hurt you so much in the past, and still stung you now. You had thought you had grown, but really, you were still that little girl, no more grown than you had been when you were shorter than your father’s music stand, as sensitive as you’d always been.

He didn’t believe you.

He thought you were telling stories, as usual, and his skepticism was grating; it tore at your heart.

“Oh, no doubt,” he said, clearly in doubt. He stood up, brushed off the front of his coat. “And now we'll go to supper!”

You fought to make him believe you, anything to have that warmth return to his eyes once more, to turn away his disbelief. “Roger, no—”

“Change, sweetheart, and I’ll order my carriage,” he waved a hand as he strode toward the door.

“No, Roger, wait!”

The door had shut. And he had shut you out, again.

You were still those children, haunted by your losses and warned not to believe that which was strange, even if it was true.

But there was no magic in this form of youth, because it was not youth so much as the turning of a blind eye to that which one did not understand.

And Roger did not understand you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he has ever.

The lock of the door clicked, and you tensed.

The room felt suddenly cold, and you would not have been surprised if cobwebs had begun to spiral down from the ceiling, if ice had formed on the door handle and the mirror, if the flowers all around you had withered in an unbidden frost.

Then a rush of that strange wind that could not possibly exist within the walls of the Opera, and every candle in sight was extinguished. You imagined that it was not only the candles in this room, but all of the candles, everywhere, snuffed out in their prime, one by one, until the Opera turned shadowy and grey.

The frost settled on your skin as a voice rose from the shadows to greet you in the silence left in the wake of Roger’s departure.

A familiar voice.

“Ignorant fool,” came the whisper, quiet but condemning in manner, resolute in assessment.

It was close. He was close.

The angel, he was here.

“Angel,” you murmured, your eyes flitting between the shapes of the world in darkness, trying to discern the living from the inanimate, but entirely without luck. You whirled, anything to catch a glimpse, yet still there was nothing. “I hear you— speak, I listen…”

Your plea was met with silence, but his presence was not gone, so you began again. “Stay by my side... Guide me.”

You reached out your hands in the darkness, and there again was that rush of cool air, like someone moving past.

“You shall know me,” he answered. “See why in shadow I hide.” His voice lowered to that whisper again, and you felt the cold reach your very bones. “Look in the mirror.”

Toward the mirror you wandered, on some invisible path, like staring at something so horrible that one cannot look away, only this was not horror you felt, but a sort of gravitation in favour of the unknown.

Curiosity.

And there, in the looking glass, was a face, or part of one— high-cheeked and fine boned, severe in beauty, yet cold in the stare of those hazel eyes which should rightfully have been warm as a summer’s day.

But they were not.

Had the mirror been any less pristine, you would have thought it damaged, for you could see little cracks there, in his eyes. But the cracks were not part of the mirror. In fact, they were part of nothing at all, no more than a figment of your imagination. But you perceived in him a brokenness, and so that was how he appeared to you.

His skin shone like porcelain, almost blended with the half of his face covered by some fashion of mask.

And curls.

His hair was so curly that you thought there would have been curls for miles if they had all been uncoiled and the ends spun together.

Such beauty did not often hide behind a mask. You wondered why this one did.

You drew nearer to the mirror and it rippled like water. You imagined the figure reaching out his hand to you. Or maybe you were not imagining it. Maybe it was real.

And it was.

His fingertips skimmed the palm of your hand and you gasped at the touch.

There was a tremble in his hand, and you longed to still it. You curled your fingers around his wrist.

He pulled you closer to the mirror and sharply, the air left your lungs.

You felt his eyes skim down from your temples, to your jaw, until he lifted his gaze to meet your eyes. You could not breathe beneath that gaze.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

And the darkness— it finally had a face.

“I am not afraid of you,” you whispered, feeling a heaviness like relief take over your senses, dousing you in drowsiness.

“Perhaps you should be,” he replied, and his exhale touched your lips. The blood in your veins which had been cold was now hot, and the pace of your heart made your head spin.

Then his grasp fell stronger upon your own, and he pulled you through the mirror.

Someone was calling your name, somewhere, but you found suddenly that you could not look away from the one who grasped your hand, the one whose eyes remained upon your own, even as he led you.

Where he was leading you, you did not know, but this mystery was one that had existed for far too long already, and you were desperate for answers, for a glimpse of truth in this world of shadows, where you had been blind for too long to remember what truth looked like.

So perhaps it was not the truth that you were chasing, but rather a dream, in which you would slip farther and farther from reality until the fantasy consumed you.

But what was there to miss from this place? You had no family to speak of, and the opera would surely go on as it always did. After all, the show must go on.

The walls seemed to bow inwards, and the candles mounted there danced in the hands that held them, because indeed, the candelabras were golden hands.

But you were not concerned by the swaying walls or the golden hands. All you could think of was the hand which rested lightly in yours, the eyes that gleamed softly, far more beautiful than any candle.

It soon became dark once more, as the candelabras became fewer and fewer in number, as you descended with the face of the darkness, until at last you found yourself within a small boat, which sailed swiftly across the waters of a river you had never known the existence of.

Perhaps it was the river Styx, of which you had always heard in stories. You did not spare the thought doubt, for nothing would surprise you anymore. It would seem there was an entire world beneath the Opera Populaire, and this was the first that you were seeing of it.

How many more hidden corners of the world had passed you by?

The thought struck in you a sadness, and awash with a heady loneliness, you glanced over your shoulder.

But of course, he was still there— the tall, dark shadow that had always been there, and you hoped he would always be there. The darkness still called to you, even now.

You felt a smile curve your mouth.

Then the boat crested a shore, and you turned back to the prow of the vessel, to find the walls of a spacious cavern decorated in swaths of red velvet, similar to that of the Grand Drape of the opera. All around were those candles, sparkling like supernovas in the darkness, the light glancing of off hundreds of odd trinkets, from mirrors to chandeliers, to more candelabras, and it impressed you as strange that there should be so many agents of light in a place of such darkness.

And then he was stepping from the boat and extending his hand to you again, though you could not remember letting go.

His gaze was sharp and it challenged you, dared you deny him your hand.

You did not deny him your hand.

Wordless still, he drew you forward, led you on a path amongst the candles, to the music of the night— of the river water lapping against the shore, of the sound of the velvet drapes which fluttered in that impossible wind which seemed to breathe life into every forgotten corner of the Opera Populaire, including this cavern.

You came to a stop where the ground was raised, and you at once lifted your eyes to that masked face.

“Who are you?” you murmured.

“The same as I have always been,” he replied, with a dip of his head.

“And who is that?”

“The angel, of course.” His voice was low, smooth as caramel, and enraptured by the sound, you gazed up at him. “Yours.”

“Mine?”

“Am I not your angel?” he asked, and you thought he drew closer. “Have you not always spoken to me amongst the whispers of the night? Have you not fallen asleep many a time with my name on your lips?” He was definitely closer now, for you were almost chest-to-chest, and he grasped your hands between the two of you, lifted them to his lips.

He ghosted your fingers with a kiss, and heat spread through you at the tender touch.

“I do not know your name,” you said.

He lowered your hands but did not release them, instead running one long forefinger over the underside of your wrist, a gesture behind which shivers followed.

“May, some used to call me.”

“May?” you whispered, and felt the intimacy of the name of your eternal protector hum across your lips. “An uncommon name.”

“I once had another. But none remember it.”

“Except you,” you said. “You remember.”

His eyes flickered. “I can hardly call it mine.”

This was dangerous ground. His jaw and his grip upon your hands had tightened, and though the change in demeanour was subtle, it was significant.

But you pushed back, because you had come here for answers.

“Tell me,” you said.

You took your hands from his grasp and raised them instead to either side of his face, to the cool porcelain of the mask, to the burning skin which told of fire beneath— a fire to his soul, as there was to your own.

His eyes fluttered closed at your touch and he leaned his cheek into your palm, his breath a caress across your skin.

“Brian May.”

He gifted the words to you with a shudder, and you knew in your heart that you were the first in a long time to hear them. His lips brushed your palm, and his fingers skimmed your hips, to which you leaned in closer, now almost in an embrace.

“Return my name to me,” he whispered.

To your toes you lifted yourself, and his name flooded your lips as ambrosia, everlasting, binding, but though your blood turned to fire, your bones did not become dust, unless by dust, stardust was meant.

“Brian May,” you said, and slipped your fingers beneath the mask.

With a cry, he pushed you away, roughly, and you fell to the ground as the mask fell from his face.

A tremor began in the surface beneath your feet, before it spread to the entirety of the floor and spiralled up the walls, shaking the cavern and everything within it with such force you feared the breaking apart of the very Earth.

Candles toppled from all around, and you gave a shout as one narrowly missed lighting your dress aflame, again when a mirror nearly crushed you, and hot tears of mortal fear pricked your eyes.

Until a hand pulled yours and a body shielded your own, as glass shattered and waves swelled within the winding river.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the earthquake receded, and your protector disentangled himself from you.

Sitting up, you wiped tears from your face, ashamed of the fear which had plagued you, and you found that the cavern was all but completely dark. Only a single candle had survived the shaking of the cavern, and its light now seemed almost garish.

Then eyes met your own in the dark, and your gaze fell upon the right side of his face, to find—

Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but the second half of a man’s face, equal in beauty to the first half, for but a slightly over-dilated pupil which obscured the hazel of its iris.

But then again, perhaps you did not see a man at all, but a boy.

Because for all the terror in his expression, you could not see past his youth.

When he spoke this time, his voice was gravel, and a coldness settled within you at the condemnation in his tone, for it was clear that he was no protector here.

“What have you done?”

~⚘~

[anarchy-n-glitter]

The Volkov Files

Summary: Years after the Raccoon City incident, questions arise after the body of an old friend is used to taunt Leon Kennedy on a mission. Who was Envy Snow really? Why was she in Raccoon City when the outbreak happened? When was she killed and who killed her?

FILE 1, FILE 3

FILE 2

IV

Leon looked at Envy as she stood, bent over and catching her breath. She was rather tall and pale, her hair matching that same snow white skin. She wore a blue, zip-up vest and a white skirt that was already splattered with blood. She looked at Leon through her long, doe-like lashes with eyes that resembled icy water. Her lips were parted slightly as her chest rose and fell, taking in deep breaths. However, Leon could see the deep red gashes on her upper arm that contrasted with her pale skin and stained her gloves.

“We have to get out of here.” She breathed. Leon nodded before pointing at her arm. She looked down at her arm, lifting it slightly to observe it. He got down onto one knee, leading Natalya to do the same.

“I’m aware. I didn’t have time to patch it up, as you can tell.” She said before gesturing to the dead zombies on the ground. Leon reached into a pouch on his hip and retrieved a small can. He shook it before holding out his hand. Natalya eyed it suspiciously then, slowly, she held out her arm, allowing Leon to take it. He began to spray her wound with a cold, scentless liquid that stung slightly. Natalya winced, shocked by the sudden sensation. Leon finished up quickly and reached into his pouch again to grab bandages, which he promptly began to wrap around her arm.

“Now we can get out of here.” He said. Natalya looked at him, silently figuring him out as if he were some sort of puzzle for her to solve. He was bright eyed and painfully optimistic, young too. She feared that he was a danger to himself; that he’d end up getting killed. She knew it wasn’t fair, but it was how the world worked, no matter what field of work you were in.

Natalya’s eyes glanced at the letters on his chest: RPD. She smiled in a fake manner, hoping that he knew what he was doing.

“Then lead the way.” She said. Leon took her hand and helped her up to her feet. She brought her other hand up to grasp at her wounded arm and watched as Leon cautiously walked down the hall, flashlight and gun pointed in the same direction. He seemed capable enough, but Natalya wasn’t quite ready to trust someone she just met.

Puddles splashed beneath their heels as the walls groaned and creaked. Leon was ready to fire, because he knew at any second a zombie could round the corner. Being ready meant life or death. Natalya felt incredibly vulnerable standing behind Leon. She didn’t have a flashlight of her own and the light of his wasn’t enough to illuminate their surrounding area. Something could sneak up behind her and she’d be done for.

Perhaps that is his plan, she thought to herself, maybe he knows and he’s leading me to my doom. Of course, Natalya knew that this was just paranoia. Years of being a spy took a toll on how one views the world and the people living in it. Now that Raccoon City was having its own mini apocalypse, this thought process was amped up to one hundred.

Normally she wouldn’t be so reliant on someone, but now? Now that she was out of bullets and wounded? Now she would certainly rely on someone, as long as she knew that they were trustworthy.

“How much longer?” She asked him. He glanced back at her, opening his mouth to reply, but he was stopped by the sounds of growling. He whipped his head around and focused on the rotting creature in front of him. He backed up slightly, the hand with the gun coming down and out to the side so he could shield Natalya.

“Get back!” He yelled to her, and she obliged without question. The zombie reached out at Leon, its fingers flexing and moving in unnatural ways as it attempted to grab at his warm flesh. Natalya drew a knife. It was a small pocket knife that was easily concealed by her thigh-high boots. It fit easily into her hand and remained hidden there until she knew what Leon was doing.

The zombie lunged, screeching hysterically. Leon dodged its pathetic attempts at catching him and re-aimed his gun, pointing it directly at its head. He fired, blood splattered everywhere as well as chunks of skull, but the creature was not deterred. Natalya backed up against the wall, watching wearily as the zombie went in for another attack. It grabbed Leon by the shoulders and prepared to bite, but he pulled a knife and buried it deep into the monster’s chest and pushed it away. He aimed again and took two more shots, both hitting the head of the zombie. This time it fell, collapsing to the ground with a loud THUD!

Leon walked over to it and grabbed his knife back before turning his attention to Natalya.

“Come on. I don’t think this thing is gonna stay down for long.” He told her, and she obeyed, running toward him, her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. She found herself grabbing ahold of his shoulder, allowing him to completely lead the way. They reached a door and Leon slowly opened it, peeking through the crack to be sure the coast was clear. They entered the main hall of the RPD, it was empty save for Marvin, as it usually was. Natalya broke away from Leon, looking around as he rushed over to Marvin, who was behind a screen, laying down on one of the couches.

He stopped and glanced back at Envy.

“Hey, the way out’s over here. I just gotta get Marvin and put this last piece in the thing and then we can get outta here.” He told her, gesturing to where the giant statue of a woman stood. Natalya nodded and followed him over to the back of the hall, where she finally saw the man Leon was referring to as “Marvin.” He sat on a green couch, holding his right side, which was bleeding profusely. Leon placed the last medallion into a slot on the base of the statue, and the base shifted, revealing a tunnel below the floor. Natalya stared in awe, shocked that such a place would have secret tunnels. Although, she supposed that wasn’t the oddest thing she had come across in America, especially in this city.

Leon had been a bit preoccupied, arguing with Marvin as Natalya stared into the depths of the RPD. Things got more heated behind her, but she wouldn’t realize that until she heard a gun being cocked. She turned around to see Marvin holding Leon by gunpoint.

“It’s on you now… just go!” Marvin told Leon. Leon simply stood there, looking at the dying man. Natalya came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I understand.” Leon said before touching Natalya’s hand and turning around. The two walked down the steps together and took their first steps to reuniting with the outside world. Before they entered the tunnel below, Leon took one last look at Marvin.

2

The rookie cop, as I had heard some people call him, whether through notes or actual survivors, was a kind man who had helped me escape the RPD. I fear that, had I not met him, I might have been the only living person left in that place. I might not have made it without Leon.

He led me into a room below the RPD, which might be in your interest to investigate after this. There was a small model of the station on a desk, and it didn’t seem to have any significance, despite how many times I searched it.

Leon and I made it into some sort of boiler room, but that was when we got separated. He went ahead of me after we heard a noise. I had already picked up some ammo and reloaded my weapons, so I went to investigate. Something happened and a tunnel collapsed behind me, the last thing I remembered before that was the sounds of metal getting smashed in. I supposed maybe some sort of foundation involving pipes broke and it caused the doorway to crumble, but I wasn’t sure, so I continued on.

3

Natalya picked up a box of handgun ammo and quickly loaded it into her gun, following Leon closely into a boiler room. It was large, and, despite its size, was rather cramped. The floors were metal and echoed loudly as they walked. Steam rose from a machine below them, creating a thick fog that temporarily blinded the two. She gripped her gun tighter.

There was a loud grunt, followed by booming footsteps above them. More sounds resonated throughout the chamber, unsettling moaning that communicated pain. Leon lifted his gun again and looked back at Natalya.

“What was that?” She asked. Leon didn’t answer, instead, he continued to travel down the path. When the noises didn’t stop, Natalya froze in her tracks.

“Envy…” Leon began. Natalya lifted a finger to her lips.

“I’m going to investigate.” She told him. He wanted to tell her not to, but he knew it would do no good. It took him a few moments, but eventually he nodded. Natalya turned around and ran off in the other direction in search of some stairs.

Leon continued on the path he was taking before.

V

Transcript (translated):

September 24th, 1998

N: Leon and I were separated. I can hear the sounds of metal hitting metal from down the corridor. I might need backup, I might need to be extracted from the city; there aren’t many people left in the city and I haven’t seen Ms. Wong anywhere. Not a trace of her.

P: Who’s Leon?

N: A man I met. He knows his way around the city; a police officer.

P: What does he know of us?

N: Not much. He doesn’t even know my real name.

P: Good. I’m afraid, NV, that we cannot extract you from the city until you find Ms. Wong. You have to trade information.

N: I don’t even know if she’s alive!

P: That doesn’t matter, find her and get the information. If you cannot do that you are useless to us.

N: So if I don’t find her you’ll leave me to die here?

P: I’m afraid so. You’ll be a liability.

N: Fine.

P: Report back when you find the target.

N: Yes, sir.

(Phone line ringing.)

2

The halls were dark and quiet, save for the brief shuffling of feet coming from a zombie or two. Natalya held up a dying flashlight, one that she found on the body of a dead officer. From what she could tell, she was in a prison. Cells could be seen to her left and right, some occupied by zombs (as Natalya liked to call them), some not. They would reach through the bars, their bloody hands grabbing for her even though she was just out of their reach. She wanted to shoot them, just to be sure they didn’t get out and try to kill her later, but she knew that she was low on ammo again. Despite being in a police station, ammo was pretty scarce.

Then she saw them, a figure, a shadow moving in the darkness. She could see from their silhouette that they were wearing heels, and assumed that this person was a woman. She hid behind the wall, peaking around the corner every now and then to watch what they were doing. The woman opened the gate down the hall, entering and talking to someone. Natalya wanted to move out, but knew that she couldn’t. Silently she hoped that this woman was Ada, but she remembered Leon mentioning a woman named Claire, so the chance was slim.

She could hear two voices vaguely. They spoke in a whisper; one was a deeper voice that sounded vaguely familiar, and the other was the distinct voice of a woman. The man’s voice rose, claiming that he didn’t even know her name. Then Natalya heard it, he announced his name. “Leon Kennedy.” Natalya could feel her hopes rise and immediately became relieved now that she knew that he was okay. Heels clicked as the woman began walking down the hall.

“Name’s Ada.” She told him, her heels clicking loudly as she walked off. Natalya pressed her back against the wall and began to move away from the corner. The target was there, but she needed to see Leon again, just to make sure he was actually okay. She found a door and opened it, which led her into a closet. She hid and waited for the target to move, then she’d follow her… after she talked to Leon. She opened the door again to watch where Ada went, and once she was sure she was gone she moved toward the corner again.

She saw him standing there, reading a paper. She grabbed ahold of the bars on the gate and tried to push it open, only to realize it was locked. Leon turned around after he heard the gate rattle, gun pointed at her. His face softened as soon as he realized it was her.

“Leon?” She called out. He smiled at her.

“Envy.” He breathed out before immediately rushing over, stopping just in front of the gate.

“How’s your arm?” He asked. She smiled.

“Fine.” She reassured him. She looked over him, making sure that he didn’t have any wounds on him. He reached out to push on the gate, which didn’t budge even on his side. Natalya shook her head.

“It’s locked.” She told him. He sighed and took a step back before drawing his gun again.

“I’ll come find you.” He promised her. She shook her head again before looking behind her, eyeing the corridor Ada had gone down.

“Don’t worry about me. I have something else I need to do. Maybe we could meet up in the parking garage.” She told him. He looked over his right shoulder after hearing a groan, then he looked back to her.

“Yeah. Deal.” Natalya then ran off, attempting to catch up with Ada. Leon was left wondering what it was she had to do; and what she was doing coming from where Ada had walked in.

Natalya ran down the hallway to her left before coming to a door.

3

I had tracked Ada the best I could in the prison but I ended up losing her. I’ll admit, perhaps seeing Leon beforehand was a mistake, but I needed to know if he was okay. When I had met him, I was sure he was doomed. But, as time went on and as he fought, I realized that I was routing for him. I wanted to see him succeed in this unfair world. We would grow closer as time went on, after we had reunited of course.

As time would go on, I would fall for him. He was so optimistic; it was almost contagious. He tried his best to protect the survivors, and, if I weren’t in the predicament I am in as I write this, I would have loved to see him continue on as an officer. He had the heart for it, and he wore it on his arm for the world to see.

I just wish I could get out of here, but I can’t right now or they’d find me. And I know he’ll never see this, but I wish I could have gotten on the train with him and his friend Claire. I knew that they were following me, that man and his woman, so I knew not to lead them to the last few survivors. They’d kill them and then me.

So here I am, writing this as some sort of sick memoir. I’m hiding in a locker, shining my flashlight on this small notebook that I found on a nearby desk. I just wanted to explain how I got here, possibly even what led up to my death, if this should go in that direction. And I want-again, even though I know he won’t see it-Leon to know that, despite how short our time was together, how wonderful he was as a person. Any other person would have left me to die in the station, but you helped me.

4

Leon clutched the note in his hand, crumpling the sides slightly as he read. He couldn’t believe it. He knew she was killed, he saw her body on his last mission but… she had died years ago. The people who had killed her were tracking her in Raccoon City and she refused to go with him because she knew that they’d come for her and kill them all.

Leon knew that Wesker was involved. He had to have been, why else would he leave her body for him to see? But the thing that got him was, they preserved her body. They had planned to use her for something, whether it really was just to taunt him or for something else.

He knew that she had cared for him though, and that on its own was something to behold. Despite how emotionless she seemed, he could tell that she was fond of him. Although, from the way she worded it, it seemed like it was more of a fascination with him. Now, with this new evidence, he questioned what his life would have been like had the Raccoon City incident never happened. Would she still have come to Raccoon City to look for Ada? Would they still have met? What would have happened if Umbrella wasn’t after her? If Wesker wasn’t?

So many questions. All without answers.

5

She had lost Ada, but she gained a stalker. It was the man. The man from the party. He had come for her. Natalya was still unsure of the reason, but she knew it wasn’t good. Perhaps he knew who she was, possibly since the party, but now he was going to get rid of her. She picked up her pace, walking faster, acting like she didn’t know he was there. He walked at the same pace, allowing her to get some distance between her, but she was a tricky one. The next zomb she saw she’d throw at him and make a run for the parking garage so she could wait for Leon.

He was silent. Every part of him was silent, even the way he walked. Natalya didn’t like that.

She turned another corner, and, for once in her life she hoped a zomb would be there. There wasn’t. So she kept walking, searching every nook and cranny for ammo or other valuable items. She found a hip pouch just a few minutes earlier, and now she was looking for other things. For example, a key card so she could get the hell out of the station and out into the streets so she could lose this creep.

Natalya only had ten days left to live, and now the reaper is following her.

VI

“Leon!” Natalya shouted. He turned around immediately, watching as she struggled to run. Ada stopped dead in her tracks and watched as a familiar face ran up to them. Envy Snow, she knew her and she knew that Envy was a codename. She eyed the woman wearily, but didn’t bother to say anything to Leon, who seemed relieved and overjoyed to see her.

“You made it.” He breathed. Natalya nodded and looked over at the woman in the trench coat: Ada. She stood at the mouth of the garage, staring the two down behind her dark glasses. Natalya, for once, felt like she couldn’t be bothered with the mission. Ada was there, yeah that was great, but she didn’t feel rushed to get info out of her. She didn’t want to do the tradeoff yet, especially if it meant leaving without Leon.

Leon followed her gaze to Ada.

“Oh, Envy, this is Ada. She’s helping me get out of here.” Natalya stepped forward, smiling at the woman she knew was a spy.

“I know… we’ve met.” Ada didn’t say a word to Envy. She knew that she had to do an exchange, but she knew she couldn’t do it there. Not in front of Leon. There was a loud crashing noise from the corner of the garage which put Leon on edge. He began to move forward slowly, which in turn caught the attention of Ada and Natalya.

“I think we should get going.” He said, moving ahead of the two spies. Ada was next to get moving, but Natalya stood there staring at the wall that began to crumble as something large moved through it, going deeper into the building and moving away from them. She finally turned around to follow Leon and Ada after being sure the thing that caused the hole wasn’t going to follow them.

The streets were as she remembered them: wet and simultaneously on fire with the infected hiding behind every corner. Ada took the lead, guiding the other two through the dilapidated roads to-what they hoped to be-freedom. Leon stood protectively in front of Natalya, despite her own urge to protect him and her ability to protect herself. She would never admit it aloud, but she thought it was sweet.

Zombies toppled over crashed cars as they attempted to get to the group. Natalya would try not to jump when she heard one scream or groan, but, especially when it was a scream, she couldn’t help it. Ada walked coolly and calmly through the streets, clearing whatever she could with what little ammo she had left, leading Leon and Natalya to do the same. Gunshots would echo through the open world, which, despite what they were aiming to do, would draw more zombies to their location. They would come in droves, lunging at the group when they got close enough. Natalya grasped her pocket knife in her hand and went in for the kill. She figured if she could stab it in the head they’d die. This plan, however, only worked for certain zombies. Natalya quickly realized this as one grabbed ahold of her arm and prepared to bite into it. She panicked and tried to rip her arm away, but to no avail. Her free hand fumbled for her gun.

Her gloved fingers kept grazing the handle, but in a panic, she was unable to grab ahold immediately. Luckily, as they were walking, Leon heard the commotion. Natalya had finally managed to get ahold of herself and the gun and promptly raised it. She was still fending off the creature, trying her best to keep its gnashing teeth away from her arm. Leon rushed over, his gun aimed and at the rotting person. Natalya had managed to get her knife free with her gun hand (on accident, of course), but in the process, she had lost her hold on the creature’s head. It was about to bite down, when two gunshots rang through her ears.

The bullets had torn through the back of the zombie’s head, shattering its rotting teeth in the process. Its grasp loosened around her wrist as it fell backward, still gurgling and growling. Natalya took a moment to process what had just happened, but Leon grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to look at him and Ada.

“We gotta keep moving.” He reminded her as more of the infected closed in around the trio.

2

They were in a lab. An underground one. Leon had just gotten Ashley back, who hadn’t shut up since they got there.

Hell, she hadn’t shut up at all.

She was complaining about something he had said, something that was supposed to be a joke, but he supposed that didn’t matter to her. Scrap metal laid below them, on the ground glistening in the sunlight that leaked through the large opening above them… the one that they fell through. Leon was sure there was nothing else there, right?

Wrong.

He saw it as he observed their surroundings, laying there like some abandoned doll. Hair, as pale as it had been before. He felt himself go cold as his heart sped up. He cautiously approached the object

(or person)

in question, hoping that whatever

(or whoever)

it was hadn’t been laid there as a trap. As he grew closer, he realized that it, indeed, wasn’t a what… but a who. He couldn’t help but gasp in shock, unable to suppress what he had been feeling. He had been looking for her for seven years, and he found her… but…

She was as pale as she had been when he met her, but with more hints of grey in her complexion. Her mouth hung open, her lips looked like pale rose petals. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. She was smart, she knew what she was doing. She survived that hell only to be killed in the end. He bent down and placed his hand on her shoulder, allowing the cold flesh to come into contact with his own warm skin. She was dead alright… but for how long had she been dead?

It looked as if she had been killed recently; surely if she were killed in 1998 she would have decomposed by then, right? Everything was still intact. Her skin was flawless still, save for the puncture mark on her neck. Leon ran his hand over it, feeling the bump as if touching it would tell him what happened to her, but alas, nothing. She laid on piles of scrap metal, her body contorted in a beautiful way.

She laid with her head facing her left, her hair covering the lower part of her face and falling into her mouth. Her right arm was raised beside her head; her hand was curled into a loose fist, while the other laid over her midsection. Her legs were bent, both facing the left with one foot underneath the knee of the leg on top. She looked as if she were sleeping, but Leon knew that was far from the truth.

Why was she there? Who would have done this to her? Who could he turn to and trust enough to find him these answers?

“Leon!” Ashley screamed out, drawing his attention away from the corpse of the woman he once loved.

3

A man and woman watched a wall of screens, each with a different image being displayed. The woman’s head turned in the direction of one particular screen before leaning down to whisper something in the ear over her lover.

“That one.” She told him, her vivid green eyes glancing over at the far left of the room and pointing to the lower image. He brought the surveillance footage up and into the front, allowing it to overtake all the other screens. It showed Leon as he observed the corpse of Natalya, as he searched her for any signs of life. The woman giggled to herself, so quietly that her lover didn’t seem to notice. She watched, completely fascinated by what the man on screen was doing. He knew she was dead, right? She had been dead for years, but they knew. They knew that he was there, and they had dropped her preserved body onto the pile of trash for him to find, because he’d never know. Not like they did, at least. He’d never learn what had happened, he’d never know why they dropped her there to be found by him. He’d never understand why she had killed the spy herself.

“Looks like he’s found our present.” The man stated in his usual monotone. He laced his fingers together in front of him and continued to watch, also intrigued. He wondered what Leon would do. How would he react? Would he be able to piece this one together? Or, perhaps, he would be stuck wondering what happened for the rest of his life. It was a game to the duo; one created through jealousy and manipulation as well as their mutual love and respect… but this? This was different.

“He has…” She agreed. She then looked down at her lover and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“I love you, you know.” She uttered in his ear. He turned his head slightly, facing the direction her voice was coming from.

“I’m aware.” He responded with a hint of amusement in his voice. She laughed and stood up straight.

“I’m going back to the labs, come down when you’re finished… and tell me what Mr. Kennedy does next.” Her lover nodded in agreement and she left promptly, allowing him to return to the screens.

4

“Thanks for saving me.” She said to him in a voice barely above a whisper. Leon smiled.

“It was no problem, really.” Ada, who was becoming impatient, turned around to face the two.

“Look, we have to hurry if we want to get out of here alive. Pretty soon there’ll be no hope for us.” She snapped. The two stared on in silence, eventually nodding in agreement and continuing on with their journey. However, Leon had some questions that needed answering.

“Was that the intel you needed?” He asked Ada. She didn’t look back when she spoke to him.

“Unfortunately no. Ben didn’t come through.” She told him. Leon processed what she had said before asking yet another question.

“Well, what exactly are you looking for?” He asked.

“More info on the people responsible for this mess.” She answered. Natalya froze in her tracks, suddenly remembering her mission. She was sure Ada knew as well, but she wasn’t going to say anything in front of Leon. Instead, she pushed past him to walk beside Ada, leaving him confused as he stood En garde.

Ada glanced at the platinum blonde out of the corner of her eye. She did, indeed, recognize the girl. She was informed that she would be sent over to exchange information. The girl would give her more insight on Umbrella, as promised, and Ada would tell her whatever she found.

She observed Natalya closely, noticing that she was a few years younger than herself. She walked with a certain confidence that not many girls her age would have. She was rather similar to Ada, in that respect. From a young age she had been confident in herself and oozed said confidence, and it showed even then… in the midst of a damn apocalypse.

Ada knew why Natalya had walked over, but she wasn’t ready to exchange just yet.

END FILE 2

[ashintheairlikesnow]

could we mayhaps see chris as he just starts to get comfortable. tentatively interacting with people in the house for the first time, antoni being a nice roommate and helping him feel comfortable. jake trying to hold in his excitement that chris is properly coming out of his shell and interracting🥺👉🏻👈🏻

CW: Referenced drugging, neurodivergent character trying to “pass”, VERY vague referenced to past noncon, conditioned internal dehumanization/conditioned behaviors 

Takes place directly after Chris Gets a Name

Tagging Chris’s crew:  @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout

“Hey, Chris, you’re up.”

Oh, he forgot that his name is different now, that he chose one for himself. It felt like part of the fever, he hadn’t been sure if he actually chose a new name or if he just made that up.

“Chris,” He repeats, knowing he sounds like a parrot, and his eyes trail over to the curtains over the kitchen windows, gingham curtains, old-fashioned and homey like a family on TV that he watches with Sir some evenings, curled up with him, warm beneath Sir’s blankets and feeling perfectly, truly cared for when the games are over and he’s won or he’s lost and he takes the pill and is allowed just to be quiet and still and good and not scared-

“My name... is Chris, now.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good name. Everyone, this is Chris.”

He has met all these people at the table, but they look at him as though they’ve never seen him before, and he cringes back and away from their murmured greetings. 

The tall blond man, Jake - who isn’t an owner, Chris understands that now, and he’s wearing a t-shirt plaid sleep pants - is sitting at the table and the boy’s eyes go immediately to the plates of biscuits with white gravy layered over the top, the smell of frying sausage heavy in the air in the kitchen, although an open window lets in a soft breeze and the scent of lilacs from a bush at the house next door.

The boy feels his stomach flip, uncomfortably unsettled. Miss Nancy smells like lilacs and Sir likes biscuits and gravy, has them every morning once per week, the boy thinks of days in the food Sir eats. Biscuits Day, Omelette Day, Cheese Danish Day. 

Is it Biscuit Day here? 

The others are at the table, too - not the older woman with brown hair, the boy could hear her talking to someone up in the attic when he first left the room. 

He felt like standing for the first time in days, since he’d gotten so sick and hidden in the storage room. His legs wobbled, weak and weary, underneath him as he made his way downstairs but now, leaning against the doorframe and wrapped in a big fluffy blanket that smells like some man’s cologne but not Sir’s, he feels better.

“D’you want to sit?” Jake gestures at the table. There is one chair empty, the lady’s chair, but the other seats are taken by the other ones like him.

Not like him at all.

There’s one girl with a ponytail, wearing a big sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking at him with nervous wide eyes that seem a little too big for her face. The other girl has short dark hair in a bob and barely looks at him at all. There’s a boy, too, older than he is (they’re all older than you are) who has dark hair mussed-up and shadowed, faintly feline eyes that turn up at the corners just a little, a hint of a smile on his face. He looks at the boy directly, and gives a little wave with his free hand.

The boy lifts his arm just enough to give a wave back, then drops it again, curling himself even more tightly up in the blanket. 

“Do I... want to... sit?” He paces his words, careful and calm, just like training. Try to figure out the expectations and deliver on them. “Should I...” He hesitates, swallowing hard. “In your... lap, Sir?”

The dark-haired girl chokes on her food and jerks forward, coughing into one hand, while Ponytail pats her on the back, whispers something into her ear. Both of them look back up at him, briefly, and Chris can’t tell if they hate him or pity him but their eyes are shuttered closed and he cringes away, ready to run back upstairs to the bedroom and the stuffed puppy he’s been petting while he stares out the window and wonders if he’ll be allowed outside, sometimes, here.

Jake clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh... no, man. No, you don’t... no. We’re not like that.”

“You will never be expected to do that here,” The other Box Boy says, his eyes on Chris’s, warm and inviting. “Jake is offering for you to sit in the chair.” His voice is low and deep, his words soft and slow and gentle. 

They sink into Chris’s mind like the feeling of petting a rabbit’s ears, and he takes one step forward and then another. 

“In the... chair?” He looks around at them all, trying to understand. “But, but, but but but I’m not allowed-” He flinches-

silence is better than stammering, darlin’

-but when he looks back up no one looks angry, just... curious, still. Maybe nervous. Are they nervous, too? Chris is nervous, he doesn’t know what any of this means or who to be, here, how to be anything but what he’s always been, the only thing he remembers how to be.

It’s been days since he had a pill and his mind feels normal again, running on all his tracks, and he notices that the sausage gravy looks heavily peppered at the same time he thinks that Jake has lots of muscles and the girls are very pretty but one has a scar over her lip and eyebrow and the other one’s hands are shaking and are they shaking because of him?

“You are allowed to sit wherever you please,” The other Box Boy says, gently. “Whenever you want to sit there. There is no allowed, here.”

Chris’s eyes skip from him to the girls, who give him small soothing smiles, and then to Jake, who has pushed the chair out a little in an obvious invitation. Jake feels safe, he feels like maybe a good kind of handler, like he will be the one to teach Chris the things he needs to know and won’t even have to hurt him to do it. 

“I will... I will sit in the, the chair,” Chris says slowly, and moves into the room in a shuffle-step with the blanket still pulled tightly around himself. It’s a light blue downy fluff blanket that puffs out like the puffy vest Sir likes to wear on cold days - Southern affectation, I admit you can take the man out of the South but you’ll never get the South out of the man whispers his soft slick voice in the back of Chris’s mind - and he settles into the chair despite the bone-deep urge to slip to his knees, because he doesn’t get to use a chair unless it’s Sir’s.

“Chris,” Jake says, leaning over to squeeze his shoulder, and Chris closes his eyes at the brief warm touch that feels so good, so right. “You know I’m Jake. You’ve heard the other’s names but i’m guessing you probably forgot... this is Krista-” 

Ponytail smiles at him, a little more warmly this time. Her eyes roam over his face and whatever she sees makes her smile even warmer. Chris had expected her to go cold. The other ones never like the ones like him. He doesn’t know that he’s ever met one before but it doesn’t matter, they all know that, they always tell you don’t even bother, they’ll all hate you in the end.

But Krista only smiles at him and says softly, “Hi, Chris.”

She’s so pretty, with the ponytail that swings over her neck and her wide, wide eyes. He wants almost to kiss her, but he doesn’t want to kiss her at all.

What you want is no longer relevant. What are your options now?

Be g-good, or... or be in trouble.

He can kiss her, if he needs to. He can be good.

“H-hello,” He whispers back. Jake gets up and Chris flinches at the sound the chair makes as it scrapes along the kitchen floor. He still feels a little shivery around the edges, like the fever wants to come back and is lying in wait. He’s tired and weak and it feels like one of the nights Sir plays games, except he feels like they don’t do that, here.

He’s in a shelter. This is a safe place for escaped pets, he tries to remind himself of what he was told when they brought him inside. They call him a rescue, now, not a pet.

“And I’m Leila,” The girl with short dark hair speaks next, leaning over to catch Chris’s eye. Her smile is more impish than Ponytail’s, and he could definitely kiss her, too, but there’s also a distance, there. She seems... cautious of him. Or maybe of everyone. “All our names we pick ourselves. I like yours.”

“I am Antoni,” The other Box Boy says, smiling calmly at him. “Are you hungry, Chris? Jake made us breakfast.”

Chris swallows, hard, looking around at the plates of biscuits and gravy. He can almost feel Sir’s fingers wiping a bit of gravy from the corner of his mouth. “Can, can I please...” He swallows, hard.

Calm. Quiet. Careful. Slow.

“Can I... please just have something else?”

There’s a silence, as the three other ones stare at him, and Jake is quiet by the stove. Then, with nothing but the same genial welcome in his voice, Jake says brightly, “We have Pop Tarts, would you like those? It’s just strawberry, but Leila likes them, so Nat keeps them on hand.”

“What... what’s a Pop... Pop Tart?” Chris asks, hesitantly, then winces. Is this something he should have known? Will he be in trouble?

Leila’s eyes light up. “Oh, God, you don’t remember them. Oh, Jake, give him one of mine!” She looks at Chris, right at him, and he feels the urge to cringe away and lean closer, both at once. “You have to-... you’re going to love Pop Tarts, I promise!”

“‘Love’ might be a strong word...” Antoni murmurs, and Krista shushes him with a little giggle.

Chris discovers himself smiling, a little, as Jake opens a little rectangular foil package and lays what looks like icing-covered sprinkle bread in front of him. He picks it up - it feels hard to the touch, like it’s overcooked, but all of them are watching him, now. 

Sir has never fed him anything like this.

“Go ahead, man,” Jake says brightly. “Take a bite.” He drops back down into his seat, and Chris looks at him - strong and tall and muscular and nice-looking - and he thinks, I could be so good for you.

Chris picks up the thing and puts it in his mouth, takes a bite and chews. His eyes widen at a sudden burst of nearly chemical oversweet flavor, the crunch of icing and chewy bread part and then a kind of sweet filling like jam but it doesn’t taste like any jam Chris has ever had before. He chews and chews, it sticks to his tongue a little, but finally he swallows it down and stares at it, looking at the center full of a deep red something-or-other. It does look like jam...

Then he puts it back in his mouth and takes another bite. 

“See, I told you he’d like Pop Tarts,” Leila says, almost smugly.

“No, you told him he would like Pop Tarts,” Antoni answers, humor lacing his voice. “And so he does.”

“You owe me, Ant.”

“We did not make a bet!”

“I’ll tell Nat to buy some more,” Jake interrupts, and Chris looks over at him and smiles around his mouthful, and Jake smiles back. Chris pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged in the chair, blanket tight around him, and starts to tap on his stomach hidden by the blanket where none of them can see to stop him.

“I, I, I I-I feel better,” He says after he swallows. 

No one says anything about his words.

“I feel so much better.”

He really, really does.

[hopelikethemoon]

The Shop (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: The Shop Rating: Explicit  Length: 3000 Warnings:  Smut (Discussion of sex toys and other sex-related topics, and a heavy dose of smooching and rough sex) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set December 1997. Starts with Javier POV and shifts to Reader’s. Two-part two adventure. Summary: Javier returns to the shop. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Javier tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as he stared across the street at the shop. He felt like he was sitting on a stakeout, sitting there waiting for someone to come out. But in reality, he was waiting to get the courage to go inside. It hadn’t been so bad when he went in with her. No. It had been fucking nervewracking. 

What if one of his students saw him going into a sex shop? How would he ever live that down? 

Christmas was right around the corner and he wanted to get something new. And considering what came from the last trip to the sex shop — he had a good feeling about this venture. And this time he wanted more of the focus to be on her. Sure, she was an active participant in the… pegging, but he wanted to do something for her. 

And that was the only reason he managed to get himself out of the car and into the shop. For her. 

“Good afternoon sir!” Rocky said cheerily from behind the counter. “How can I help you tod—” He clasped his hands together. “Welcome back! Satisfied with your previous purchase?”

Javier swallowed thickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. “You could say that.” He cleared his throat, looking away nervously. “I’m looking for something for her this time.” 

“I see.” He nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “What are you thinking of?”

Javier glanced towards the door. He could still run. 

“I don’t know.” He admitted with a shrug. “Outside of her, um… vibrator, we haven’t really explored much with.” Javier gestured towards the aisles of toys. 

Rocky crossed his arms across his chest, canting his head to the side as he regarded Javier. “You’re very uncomfortable with all of this, aren’t you?” 

“You could tell?” Javier cracked a faint smile, nodding his head slowly. “Our last purchase was our first real exploring outside of the ‘norm’.” 

“There are no norms. It’s about what you’re comfortable with.” Rocky explained, “I don’t want to assume anything about your relationship, but neither of you struck me as the vanilla type.” 

Javier scratched at the back of his neck, “You could say that, I guess.” 

“Come with me,” Rocky waved his hand, urging Javier to follow him down one of the aisles. Javier glanced at the shelves, feeling somewhat scandalized by what he saw. He never had a problem going into brothels in Colombia — but there was something about being in a sex shop that made him want to crawl into a hole and die. 

It was probably that Texas upbringing, like she’d teased. 

“And roleplay is entirely out?” Rocky questioned, nodding his head towards a display of costumes that were clearly designed for sex. 

“Yeah.” Javier nodded. “Not really our thing.” 

“Then I really think toys are going to be your best bet,” He stopped walking, gesturing towards the shelf. 

What the hell was he doing there? 

Javier had stared down the barrel of guns, but there was something truly unsettling about staring at a display of neon on colored dildos styled to look like cocks. Shit, he couldn’t wait to tell her about this. If he didn’t go with something, she wasn’t going to believe he’d actually gone by himself. 

“Personally, I’m not really looking for something to uh,” He gestured to a toy that seemed obscenely large. “Compete with.” 

“Understood.” Rocky nodded, looking back at the display then. “Have the two of explored a little rear entry?”

“You gotta say it like that?” Javier huffed, his hands going to his hips. “Yeah. We’ve been doing it for years.” He shrugged. “Why?”

“You could always spice things up,” Rocky pointed to one of the toys that was advertised as a Booty Rocket. 

“Jesus Christ.” Javier swore under his breath, rocking from his heels to the balls of his feet. “What did I say about not wanting to compete.” 

“Oh, no! No.” He shook his head, “This has the potential to be quite fun for both of you.” He picked up the book and showed it to Javier. “You insert this into—”

“Yep.” Javier cut him off. 

“I have heard from many satisfied couples who have used this, or one of the similar toys, in tandem with regular intercourse. I understand the vibrations are quite pleasurable for both participants.”

Javier blinked slowly, his jaw dropping a little as he realized what Rocky was saying. Oh. “I see. Well, you didn’t lead us astray last time.” 

Rocky grinned. “You would not believe how many couples I have helped. I call it a gift.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Wrap it up like one.” He hesitated, “And thank you.” 

“It’s no problem at all.” Rocky assured him as he headed back towards the counter. Javier lingered for a second, his eyes wandering over the display warily with a shake of his head. Things certainly hadn’t been dull since she stepped into his life. 

 ————

 “It’s not Christmas yet,” You remarked as you spotted a neatly wrapped box sitting at the foot of the bed. “Javi, what’s this?”

“You’ve got to open it.” Javier smirked as he shut the bedroom door behind him. “Otherwise you’re not going to believe where I was today.” 

“Where were you today?” You questioned, shaking the box curiously. It wasn’t like you didn’t already know what he’d gotten you for Christmas. You had been there when he’d picked the bracelet out at the jewelry store. 

That was going to be the closet you ever got to letting a man pick out a piece of jewelry for you. As it was, the jeweler had been so coy with his remarks about, “Wouldn’t you rather pick out a sparkling diamond ring?” No, you just wanted the platinum bracelet that matched Javier’s ring. And you wanted your daughters’ birthdays engraved into it. 

But that wasn’t this. That gift was already wrapped and under the Christmas tree, alongside the fountain pen Javier had been dying for. Mostly because Connie had gotten Steve a similar one for his birthday a few months back. 

Javier joined you at the foot of the bed, looking far too pleased with himself for it to be any normal type of gift. You gave him a curious look before you started to peel the paper off. 

“Oh my God.” You laughed as you read the name on the box. “Are you serious, Javier?”

“Serious as a heart attack.” Javier retorted. “You would’ve been proud of me.” 

You cupped his cheek, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m always proud of you, but holy shit.” You laughed again, tearing off the rest of the paper and tossing it on the floor. “This is probably the last thing I would’ve expected from you, Javi.” 

Javier shrugged, “I even had a whole conversation with Rocky.” 

“And you didn’t die? The earth didn’t swallow you whole?” You pinched his side.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He rubbed at the spot. 

“Just checking to see if you’re corporeal.” 

“Fuck off.” He rolled his eyes, before gesturing to the toy. “Do you like it?”

You looked back down at the product. “Aside from the name — Booty Rocket, really? — I like it.” Your eyes wandered over the back of the packaging. “Ten speeds? Seven is enough to kill me with my vibe.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Rocky seemed to think it would be something we’d both enjoy.” Javier nervously cleared his throat. “He suggested that it could be used during… regular sex.” 

Your brows shot upwards, “Wait, so you and the toy?” You looked back down at the neon purple rocket in your hands, before looking back at Javier. “I am very into that idea.” 

“Really?” He honestly seemed relieved. “After… what we explored, I wanted to try something that was more about you, baby.” Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, giving you a look. 

You leaned in and kissed him again, letting your lips linger against his. “That sounds like heaven to me.” You whispered, sitting the toy aside on the bed as you slid your fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you went in there alone, Javi.” You actually giggled against his lips. 

“I nearly left.” He admitted, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “But I knew if I came home empty-handed, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

You bumped your nose against his, “You’re not wrong.” You never would’ve pictured Javier going into that shop again — with or without you. He had been so painfully uncomfortable the first time, you were certain he was not going to go for anything inside. You had been pleasantly surprised, twice now. 

“I figured.” Javier ran his hand up your back. “Do you really like it, baby?”

“I love it.” You promised him. “And I love that you went back there.” 

He shrugged, “I only went for you.”

“Really?”

Javier nodded. “I wanted to get something where the focus was on you.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip, “You’re sweet.” 

“Don’t let anyone know.” He teased, resting his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze. 

“I think it might already be out.” You laughed, scooting back on the bed. “Come here.” You nudged at his back with your foot as you sank back against the pillows. He smirked at him as you met his gaze. 

Javier moved up the bed towards you until he was hovering above you. “You think that secret’s out?”

You nodded, running your fingers over his forearms as he pressed his palms into the mattress at your shoulders. “Mhm.” You hummed as you trailed your foot up the back of his leg. “You kiss too many boo-boos to be anything other than sweet, Javi.” You reminded him as you combed your fingers through his hair.

Javier dipped down to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip before he pulled back to meet your gaze. He brushed his knuckles against your cheek, “What can I say? I love my girls.” 

“And we love you.” You whispered, trailing your fingers down the back of his neck before stroking them over the column of his throat. “I can’t tell what I enjoy more…” You pursed your lips thoughtfully as you looked up at him. “When you punch someone for talking shit about us or when you’ve let Josie put bows in your hair.” 

“Still thinking about Laredo?” He questioned as you brushed your thumb over his Adam’s apple.

You bit down on your bottom lip, nodding your head. “I’m still thinking about when you decked Chris too.” You admitted as your foot skimming over the back of his leg again, before your leg wrapped around his hip. “You get this fiery look in your eyes.” You told him, “It’s hot.”

Javier chuckled, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. “You like that, huh?” He questioned, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue slid over your bottom lip, before he caught it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make you hiss. “You like it when I’m rough. Don’t you baby?” 

“Yes.” You breathed out, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as you arched up against him. “I love it.” 

He pressed a line of kisses along your jaw, trailing his mouth down your throat, his tongue darting out against your skin. He shifted above you, letting more of his weight press you into the mattress and you relished the closeness. 

You grabbed at the back of his t-shirt, trying to drag it up his back. Fingers greedy for the bare skin that was revealed. A soft moaned escaped you as he nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your ear. “Javi.”

Javier rolled his hips forward, the fabric of his jeans rough against your bare thighs where your sleep shorts had road upwards. His gaze flickered in the direction of his recent purchase. “Do you—“ 

“No.” You shook your head, leaning up to kiss him. “I just want you.” 

Need burned straight through you as his tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against your own as he kissed you. His hand moved to grap at your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. The kiss broke only long enough for you to peel his shirt over his head, before discarding it over the side of the bed. 

His mouth claimed yours again, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as he rocked into you. You could feel his cock straining against the front of his jeans, the hard length of his cock grinding against the thin fabric of your shorts and underwear. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

You tugged at his hair, pulling him back as you drew in ragged breaths. “Are you going to tease me or are you going to fuck me, Javier?” You questioned, baiting him into action. 

Javier caught your jaw roughly, even as his thumb soothed over your cheek. “Roll over.” He ordered you, before he released his hold on you and sat back on his knees. 

You looked up at him with a smirk, “Make me.” 

“Now.” He drawled out as he jerked his belt from its belt loops, tossing it aside. 

“No.” You pressed your shoulders back against the mattress and arched your back, your eyes flickering downwards as you watched him unzip his jeans. 

“You’re really pushing your luck tonight, baby.” Javier said lowly as he grabbed your leg, running his hand up your thigh as he leaned forward again. His mouth slanting against yours far too briefly before he pulled back, “Roll over. Now.” 

You huffed, shoving at his chest to give yourself room to move as you submitted to his request. His lips moved to the crook of your neck and you couldn’t help but smile, reaching back to rake your fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to go easy on me, babe.” You reminded him. 

His fingers curled loosely around your throat, his lips close to your ear. “Who said anything about easy?” Javier questioned, his fingers splaying out against your throat. “On your knees.” 

You complied, fueled by the way he tightened his grip on your throat when you hesitated. Javier tugged your shorts and underwear down your ass, leaving them bunched around your thighs as he moved above you. “Fuck.” You hissed out as you felt his cock brush against your skin. 

“Is that what you wanted, baby?” He whispered against the shell of your ear as he slid the head of his cock between your slick folds, teasing you. “I wanna hear you say it.” 

A moan rose up in the back of your throat, “Yes.” 

Javier sat back on his knees, curling his arm around the middle for support as he kept his fingers wrapped around your throat, guiding you back against his chest. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.” He drawled out, dragging his cock over your sensitive flesh. “Is this all for me?” He questioned, catching your earlobe and biting down gently as he pressed into you.

“Javi.” You hissed as the angle had his cock hitting all the right spots within you. You reached behind you and curled your fingers around the back of his neck. There was something you had always loved about this — half-dressed and desperate for each other. 

He pressed a tender kiss to the curve of your neck, his breath dancing over your skin as he exhaled. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” Javier said as he rolled his hips, his cock barely slipping from you before he was driving into you again.

Javier released his hold on your throat, his hand sliding down over your breasts through your shirt, before his hands grasped at your hips. He held you steady as he moved, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. 

You reached downwards, seeking out that little bundle of nerves between your thighs. “Harder.” You urged him as you circled your clit, your inner walls already fluttering as you felt your release starting to build. 

You were going to be bruised tomorrow and you were going to love every moment of it. It was winter and sweaters and trousers could hide a variety of sins. “Javi.” You gasped as he kept driving into that sweet spot. Again and again. 

“Come for me, baby.” Javier urged. There was something about the tone of his voice that went straight through you, stoking the flames in your veins. You arched back against his chest, crying out softly as your orgasm took hold. His hand replaced yours between your thighs, stroking his thumb over your clit as he slammed into you. 

Your body clenched around him, milking his own release from him. He stiffened, breathing heavily against your shoulder before he started rocking his hips, his pace uneven as he spilled out within you. 

Javier sat back on his legs, pulling you down onto his lap. His cock still buried within you. You sank against him, your still-clothed back pressed against his bare chest. “Holy shi— Fuck.” He muttered, rubbing lazy patterns over the tops of your thighs. 

“Ditto.” You breathed out with a quiet laugh, reaching behind you to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you.”

He slid his hands over your waist, pressing a line of kisses over your clothed shoulder. “I love you too.” Javier muttered, “Never cease to amaze me.”

“That’s just the sex talking,” You teased, shifting in his lap. “Let’s try it this weekend.” 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift.” You reminded him, tilting your head to look back at him. “Did you forget?” You questioned, brushing your fingers over his cheek as you turned enough to press a kiss to his lips. 

Javier rubbed his hand over your hip, “I might’ve been distracted.” He mumbled as he nuzzled at your neck. “Sounds like the weekend is gonna be fun,” He said as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“It always is.” You laughed softly as you sank back against him.