#my hands aren’t acting up anymore but we’re in a sort of Cold War

[chialattea]

me after reading Kuma’s backstory🧍‍♀️👍 (ft quick Brook sketch lol)

[cades-outsider]

Eli/Hawk X Reader

Warnings: This may get you in your feels for a sec! Very slight smut warning!

Fighting Gravity

You would be lying if you said it wasn't tough, it was the hardest thing you have done. It's not easy breaking up with someone but you felt as if you had no other choice.

You were with Eli before he turned into Hawk, before he started becoming someone who he despised the most, he became his worst enemy; a bully.

Just as if the day could get any worse you had to be at school, well it was lunch time so it wasn't so bad. I mean you were already halfway through school just two more classes, that you also share with Demetri.

"Listen to me Y/n" Demetri says catching your attention.

You playfully roll your eyes as you know that he's going to tell you a cheesy Star Wars joke, that will most likely be funny to only you and Demetri and we'll Eli if he were a 'nerd' again as he calls it.

"Which Star Wars character works at a restaurant?" He questions, already laughing at the joke he was thinking of.

"I don't know who?" You ask sarcastically.

"Darth Waiter" Demetri says, now fully laughing at his own joke.

He laughs at his own joke caused to you to laugh, plus it was a cheesy move. The laughing dies down as you and Demetri stop, in the middle of the hallway. Eyes subconsciously connecting with each other's, you both feel yourselves being pulled towards one another.

"What the h*ll do you think you're doing nerd?!" You hear someone yell causing both you and Demetri to pull away, have being caught.

"I-uh well-" Demetri stutters before you speak up, Demetri sighs in relief.

"Why do you care? We aren't together anymore" You exclaim, as Hawk walks closer to you both.

"Yeah I wonder why, it's not like I wanted you anyways" He smirks.

You knew what was happening, you knew that he was just putting on a facade to the students that don't give a crap about him.

"Oh yeah? And how's that working out for you" You smirk.

"Quite well actually, I don't have to see your ugly reflection everyday" Hawk snarls.

"Yeah well neither do I" You scoff, almost saying something bad but you bite back your lip. Knowing that's Eli's insecure spot, that you shouldn't bring up.

  You bite back the urge to say something you'd regret in the long run "whatever I'm not even in the mood" you roll your eyes and walk away.

"Come on Demetri" You demand as he follows behind.

  "Uh- what was that?" He asks referring to the almost kiss.

  "I- I don't know" You admit honestly.

  He decides to not ask any more questions even though it kept running around his mind. After lunch, the day went by pretty fast you were driving on the way home when you got a call. It was Demetri.

Both Demetri and Moon decided to get your mind off of things, so she threw you a as she called it a 'get over hawk' party. Which was what Demetri called to tell you about of course.

"Come on Y/n! This will help you in-lighten your inner spiritual self!" Moon says jumping up and down, clapping excitedly.

"Fine fine fine...." you mumble, knowing you couldn't say no to Moon.

"Yay!" She exclaims happily.

"Come on I have the perfect dress for you!" She says pulling you into her closet full of dresses and unique outfits.

"Here! Take this!" Moon pushes the dress into your chest, excited.

  You don't even get time to check out the dress before Moon rushes you into her second closet, "rude..." you mumble playfully.

  You slip on the dress, with no problems at all. It fit ever curve just perfectly. "Wow.." you gape as you spin around looking at yourself in the mirror.

  The dress included a slit in the middle from your thigh and it was a sparkling blue shade, with spaghetti straps.

  Not even a second later Moon barges into the closet causing you to jump, she squeals cheerfully "o-m-g you look so sexy!" She says smirking, proud of herself.

"Wait, why am I wearing a dress when I'm just going to swim anyways?" You question.

"Oh you silly Y/n! We're showing Hawk what he's missing!" Moon says smiling as she grabs some of her green juice that she made.

"Okay.." You nod your head, trailing off.

"Plus I bought me a matching colored dress!" She says holding up the dress.

You gasp "it's beautiful Moon! You'll look gorgeous! As always" You gush.

Moon smiles slightly at the compliment "well what are you waiting for! Let me do your hair" She says ushering you in the chair.

After a couple hours Moon had finished your makeup and hair turning you around to see your beautiful reflection in the mirror.

"Wow.." you gape at the magic Moon had put into.

  "I know right!" Moon agrees.

  "Oo- I'm going to slip on my dress!" She exclaims happily as she rushes into her bathroom.

  An hour went by and people were finally here, kids eating pizza in the corner, some drinking beer, and some already throwing up in the lawn.... 'pfttt lightweights' you giggle to yourself.

  In the middle of your direction you seen Hawk and a group of his friends sitting around him, a red solo cup in his hands as his fierce eyes scan over the partying people. Only to be met with your beautiful shinning eyes.

  His demeanor changes almost immediately, he was tired of putting up this act yeah. But he did not want to go back to the kid with the weird lip, so throwing this act away was a no at least for now.

  His eyes sparkle with admiration as he scans your beautiful features, and your sparkling blue dress. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the slit in your dress which revealed your right thigh.

  Just then Demetri walks over to you with a wave "hey Y/n, would you like to I don't know per say go for a swim?" He asks, beating around the bush.

  Sparing a side glance at Hawk you notice his jaw clench as he squeezes his red solo cup causing whatever liquor that was held inside to drip down his hands and onto the floor.

  Deciding what harm could do you nod "I'd love too" you reply as he leads you both to the pool outside, few people in the pool which confused you considering it seems like people always head for the pool first at party's.

  Unzipping the side of your dress you reveal your white bikini that Moon had bought for you three days prior as a best friend-adversary gift along with a matching gold necklace.

  You of course returned the gesture as this was your best friend were talking about, you fold the dress and put it under your towel so it wouldn't get wet.

  Demetri had already started getting in the pool, sitting down as you got in slowly enjoying the cold water against your warm skin.

  "You know Y/n, you look not the term I would use... but you look mighty fine" Demetri compliments causing you to giggle but roll your eyes playfully.

  That is until you hear a cup hit the concrete ground next to you, "you just can't stay away from what's mine can you Demetri" Hawk interrupts.

  You look up at him in shock, obviously it was just a compliment so why is he getting all worked up. I mean when people compliment Hawk you certainly try to start anything with them.

  "Hawk, cool it" You say softly, not wanting to come off as rude.

  "Oh so I'm supposed to 'cool it' while I watch Demetri flirt with you? H*ll no." He states bluntly as he starts walking closer to Demetri.

  Deciding you didn't want to see one of your friends get beat today, you pull yourself out of the pool. Gently you grab hawk by his forearm, grab your towel and push him into the pool shed full of floats.

  Roughly you slam his back against the wall causing a couple floats to fall off the wall "we need to talk" You state.

  Hawk's breathing picks up at how close you both are, "no talking" he says sliding his hands onto your cheek, rubbing his thumb in circles against your skin.

  "Just kissing..." He mumbles before placing his lips upon yours, pulling your body closer into his causing him to get wet since you just got out of the pool.

  You pull away leaving Eli with a hurt look as you push onto his chest pressing him against the wall firmer "we talk and sort things out then I give you what you want." You state firmly.

  Slowly Hawk nods, giving you puppy eyes "Look Eli, I love you I really do. But I don't like watching you become someone who you used to hate, I don't want you to inflict pain mentally... and physically like others did to you" You exclaim softly, rubbing his cheek soothingly.

  His jaw clenches before he soon relaxes "i understand Y/n, and I'm sorry I just didn't want to be the weird kid with the lip anymore..." He mumbles, slowly tearing up.

  "Eli... baby, you were never the kid with the weird lip. I love you for you, not strength, muscles, or popularity but you. I loved your corny jokes-" You rest your arms around his neck "-I loved your shyness, I loved your battle scar baby... it's what makes you my Eli" You finish as a small tear falls down Eli's eye.

  "Don't get me wrong, I love your confidence now and I love your hair but I didn't want you to get to wrapped up in it" You mumble softly.

  "I'm sorry Y/n, I really am" Eli mumbles, digging his head into your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist.

  "Don't be Eli, baby I understand what happened and I know why it happened but just know I always loved and always will love the real you" You say smiling as you lift his head up with your thumb.

  You run your finger over the scar on his lip before placing a gentle, loving kiss upon the scar "this is beautiful Eli, don't be afraid to love who you are" You praise as Eli feels his heart warm up with love.

  Eli reaches down and picks you up by your thighs before placing you on the little couch that laid in the room, he places his smooth lips on top of yours letting you feel his vulnerable state.

  He tugs in the middle of your bikini asking for permission if he cold take it off but before you could respond someone busts into the shed causing you both to jump.

  It was some horny couple making out and slamming each other against the walls removing clothing not even paying attention or noticing you two.

  "Seriously?! Get out!" Eli yells, startling the couple causing them to rush out half naked.

  You giggle as you rest on your elbows, sitting yourself up a little as Eli sits on his knees halfway straddling your thighs.

  "You think this is funny huh?" He teases has he bends down leaving kisses on your neck.

  "Yeah, I love the rush of being caught" You exclaim, catching Eli off guard.

  "Oh really? We'll see about that"

_______________________________________________

Thank you @peachymelon69 for requesting! I hope you enjoyed!

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Fifteen people who found out about James, Sirius, and Remus and the one person who never did

To clarify: James, Sirius, and Remus are queerplatonic partners in this case, or QPP's. This means that they're essentially special friends, ones who indulge in physical and emotional connections that are typically thought of as beyond platonic.

ONE: Peter Pettigrew

By fourth year the Marauders are legends. Everyone knows them as the fun-loving band of brothers without any cares in the world. Only the four of them know the true nature of the Marauders - bloody, battered, and bruised.

One day Sirius and James are fighting, an explosive sort of argument where Peter hides behind his curtains while peeking out through a crack in them and Remus reads calmly on his bed. Then suddenly the shouting stops, and Peter’s jaw drops open while Remus looks up from his book.

There, in the middle of the room, are Sirius and James, Sirius’ hands on James’ face and his mouth on his lips. Sirius pulls away before James can respond, covering his mouth with his hands and tearing up while James blinks in shock and Peter stares.

Then, Remus starts laughing, and James drags Sirius into a crushing hug, pressing kisses all over his face before finally pecking him on the mouth and then letting go. Peter squeaks out a garbled question when Remus rolls his eyes and says, “What, no love for me?”

Immediately, Sirius and James tackle him onto the bed, the three of them collapsing into a mess of laughter and kisses while Peter stares and stares and stares.

TWO: Marlene McKinnon

In an act of drunken desperation to forget her own confusing sexuality (girls are super hot but the idea of being in love makes me wanna throw up, for reference), Marlene flirts with Sirius at a party. His eyes are dark and alluring and he’s addicted to dancing, so it’s not exactly difficult. But just as her hand snakes up his arm, Remus appears, wrapping himself around Sirius and kissing him happily, Sirius melting against him.

Marlene steps back in her shock, creating just enough room for James to stumble over tipsily and start making fun of Sirius’ ears; that is until Sirius leans down and kisses him too just to shut him up, pulling back with a laugh so loud it rings in Marlene’s ears as she runs for the comfort of Dorcas, who simply smiles and slips her hand through Marlene’s blonde curls and kisses her until she can’t feel anything anymore.

THREE: Minvera Mcgonogall

In fifth year, Mcgonogall is awoken by a bawling James Potter at her door, sobbing uncontrollably and blubbering about something she can’t really understand. Eventually he calms down enough that she manages to get that he’s upset because he just found out that Sirius and Remus are dating.

Mcgonogall is terribly confused - haven’t the three of them been dating for years?

“No,” James says. “We’re just friends. Friends who kiss and love each other more than anything but aren’t in love with each other. I know… I know that doesn’t really make sense. I’m just… I’m just scared that since they’re boyfriends, or whatever, they won’t… they won’t…”

Mcgonogall opens her mouth to respond when Sirius’ voice cuts through the chaos -

“Won’t what? Love you? Because if you think that my being in love with Moony means I’m going to stop snogging you at every available opportunity then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought, Jamie.”

James looks up with a grin even as the tears still stream down his face, taking in the sight of a grinning Sirius and Remus, whose hands are tightly clasped between them. Mcgonogall watches, blinking in shock, as James bounds over to them and laughs as Sirius dips him in a kiss and Remus rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you morons,” he says, dragging them away as Sirius tries and fails to kiss him silly, laughing.

FOUR: Severus Snape

Sixth year is when shit first hits the fan. The Prank is a tear in their carefully cultivated tapestry, one that sends all three of them exploding in different directions. Severus is on his way to the infirmary for some more dreamless potion from Madam Pomfrey (and to check on Remus after the traumatic mindfuck that was last night’s full moon) when he sees the shitshow begin.

Remus is lying in a hospital bed, confined by bandages and fatigue but looking no less terrifying as he bites insult after insult towards Sirius. (The only one of these Severus remembers is “I thought you loved me, asshole!”, and only because Sirius had fled the room in tears after it was spoken.) James tries to sit down at Remus’ bedside, but before he can Remus breaks down in tears.

James reaches out to hold him, but Remus shoves him away, screaming until James leaves, his head hanging low in defeat. Severus approaches carefully, holding out one of his bottles of dreamless sleep.

“Here,” he says softly. “So you can forget, for a little while.”

Remus looks up at him and smiles weakly.

“Thanks,” he rasps, and Severus leaves with a nod, deciding it’s better to quit while he’s ahead.

FIVE: Lily Evans

Despite all of the horror of the Prank, it is less disastrous than one might think. There is a war coming; Severus has sworn to Remus himself that he will never tell and has also started searching for the cure for lycanthropy while he’s at it (not that he’s found it; he never will); and Sirius Black and Remus Lupin love each other more than words can say and will no matter the consequences, everybody knows that.

And Lily, she misses Severus - no one else understands that, but she does. She loves him.

She’s studying with Remus one day, their backs against the wall and knees to their chests, and ends up asking him how Severus is doing, eventually winding them down a conversational path about lost love and finding hope anyway. Remus, however, collapses into tears talking about Sirius and how much he misses him and loves him, still.

Lily doesn’t know what to do; Remus Lupin does not cry, at least not in front of anyone. Before she can panic too badly about it though, James is there, on his knees in front of Remus and whispering quietly to him, taking his hands and kissing his knuckles in between murmurs of affection. Sirius stands behind him, hands clenching in and out of fists as he tries desperately not to touch, but that only lasts a few moments before Remus is laughing through his tears, making grabby hands for Sirius.

Sirius squats down hesitantly, gently wrapping his arms around Remus, who pulls him down by the neck and jaw and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him as James smiles tiredly, passerbys whoop and stare, and Lily looks at James and feels her heart flutter in her chest. He smiles at her, and she flushes, then stands and heads for the opposite corner, where Severus is leaning against the wall, his nose in a book.

No words are needed between them. She pulls him in by the tie, and there’s a single feeble whoop for them, too - Lily smiles at the sound of James’ voice, hope sparking in her chest as her eyelids flutter closed.

SIX: Regulus Black

Regulus, struggling under his parents’ stifling regime alone since Sirius left, can’t say he’s not shocked when Sirius drags him up to a Marauders sleepover in the Gryffindor dorms one night. Peter isn’t there - Remus says he’s staying with a Hufflepuff named Max he’s into - but Remus, Sirius, and James all gravitate towards one bed, Remus lying on his back with James’ head on his stomach, running his fingers lazily through James’ curls.

Sirius beams at the sight of them and jumps in beside them, and James leans up and pecks Sirius on the mouth, who smiles. Regulus’ heart twinges at the sight - his brother has so much more love than he does, and Regulus won’t deny that he’s always been just a little bit in love with James Potter - but then James smiles at him with those twinkling eyes and Regulus’ heart calms.

Sirius draws him close by the hand, pulling him into his side and kissing the top of his head. They laugh and wrestle and joke around until eventually Remus falls asleep in James’ arms, and James is not long to follow. Regulus lies awake long after, nestled into Sirius’ side, the silence comforting like a warm blanket. Until Sirius murmurs, “I love you, Reggie,” and drifts off, and Regulus is left staring at the ceiling, alone.

He knows, Sirius’ hand over his heart, that this is his brother’s way of saying goodbye.

SEVEN: Hope & Lyall Lupin

“Criminals” is not a word Lyall Lupin would use to describe Sirius Black and James Potter, but maybe it should be. Because they break into his house on Christmas Eve the boys’ seventh year, the moon already rising in the sky. Lyall tries to stop them, but Sirius Stupefies him with cold eyes and transforms into a hulking dog right then and there, trotting down the basement stairs as James follows, breaking Remus’ chains with his human hands and ushering him out the door before taking his stag form.

Lyall and Hope watch in shock from the kitchen as Remus turns and Sirius and James tame him easily, the wolf nuzzling them like old friends. By morning, they are still out in the yard, the sun rising, now fully human. At first Lyall worries for his son’s modesty, but Sirius has already wrapped his shirt around Remus’ waist, and Remus, barechested in the sun, is holding James’ head to his, muttering in Welsh as James tries desperately to breathe, apologizing over and over for a gash on Remus’ chest put there by his antlers. Remus smiles, and Sirius hums a Queen song under his breath, and Lyall can’t hear everything his son is saying but he catches just enough -

“Mae'n iawn, fy nghariad. Shhh, annwyl.” (It's alright, my love. Shhh, dearheart.)

EIGHT: Albus Dumbledore

The news that Regulus has died comes on a Wednesday. Dumbledore is the one to deliver it, with a heavy heart and a heavier theory in his head. He notices that James is there, in Sirius and Remus’ home, but does not question it, only offering the story of the Horcruxes to Sirius, who sits on the couch. As the words pour out, dry and frail, Sirius’ face pales to ghostly white. Remus emerges from the kitchen with tea just as the final phrase leaves Dumbledore’s lips -

“Your brother died a hero.”

The tea clatters to the floor as Sirius reaches for his wand on the table, pointing it towards his head and getting out “Avada -” before James and Remus are on him, James wrenching his wand away while Remus locks Sirius in his arms, gently coaxing him down onto the floor and rocking him back and forth as he breaks down. James returns from hiding the wand and wraps himself around the both of them, breaking down with Sirius and pressing tearful kisses to every inch of skin he can find. Remus looks up at Dumbledore with glassy eyes and says -

“Please take your leave, Professor.”

Dumbfounded, Dumbledore does.

NINE: Dorcas Meadowes

Dorcas has lived with Marlene since school - Dorcas was in love with her, and Marlene liked sex and liked Dorcas in a “we can be best-friend-partner-lovers forever, mkay?” way. But no one else can understand that - the fact that they’re physically intimate but not a couple, that they’re married by law and spirit but not in love, that’s not something anybody gets. So when Marlene dies, Dorcas locks herself in their home, for grief and madness alike.

One day, Sirius comes to visit her. She doesn’t know why - Lily is about to have a baby, Voldemort is specifically targeting the Potters, their husband Snape is a fucking spy, and Remus is undercover amongst the wolves. All this and there’s a traitor in their midst - Sirius has no business visiting a grieving woman when there’s a war on.

But war there is, and visit he does.

Dorcas makes him tea, and they converse quietly about Marlene for a time. It’s when Sirius’ apology comes that she snaps -

“You can’t possibly understand what it’s like to lose her. She’s - she was my everything. My other half, a part of me, my - my wife. Not just a friend but not a lover… well, not in anything but the physical sense anyway, but - she was my life.”

Sirius stands, throwing his hands out to the side.

“You think I don’t understand?” He says, laughing and running a hand through his hair. He blinks back tears, then thrusts his left hand her way. “I know exactly what you’re feeling. That grief, that fear, I - I feel that every day.”

Dorcas shakes her head, batting his hand away.

“Remus is the love of your life, not your - your, I don’t know, partner? You can’t -”

“James,” Sirius interrupts, desperately, and Dorcas shuts up. “Jamie. My Jamie. Well - Remus and I’s Jamie, really.”

He smiles - a broken, broken thing.

“I understand, see?” He says, twisting his wedding ring around so instead of a moon it shows a black set of antlers. “See? I know. I understand. I do.”

Dorcas stares, quietly, and then starts laughing. It’s a foreign, unwelcome sound, and Sirius reels back in shock. They stand there, opposing each other, until suddenly the laughs ebb out into sobs, and Sirius pulls her to his front and doesn’t let go.

TEN: Mary MacDonald

The day Harry is born, Severus isn’t even there. He’s deep into Voldemort’s forces by now, only holding contact with Dumbledore out of necessity, and James and Lily are both exhausted, missing their husband with a newfound intensity and knowing Voldemort wants to kill their newborn son. Sirius and Remus are there, Mary too, and as Lily sleeps with Harry on her chest and Mary holds her hand, Sirius and James fight.

Loudly.

(In the hallway, of course, but still.)

Remus is helpless in between them - Mary hears very little of what is actually said. Bits and pieces here and there -

“You can’t protect him by -”

And “We need you, dipshit!”

And “I swear to fucking Merlin, Jamie -”

But nothing really solid. She watches through the window as they scream, until suddenly Remus reaches out and pulls James into a kiss. Mary drops Lily’s hand in shock, and watches with a gaping mouth as Remus lets go of James to pull Sirius into him, kissing him passionately and without reserve. Finally, when he pulls away, he glares at the two men and seethes something just loud enough for her to hear -

“Listen up, you idiots. That child needs our protection. That means hiding. We know fuck all about the future but this is war. Our baby is not gonna die because the people who love him can’t let him go.”

Sirius and James both nod sagely, James leaning in to peck Remus on the mouth - “Sorry, Remy.” - before he wanders back inside the hospital room. Outside, Remus collapses into Sirius’ arms, the two of them holding each other and rocking back and forth. James looks up at Mary from the other side of Lily’s bed and smiles wryly.

“Shit, huh?” He mutters, and Mary, speechless, nods.

ELEVEN: Fleamont & Euphemia Potter

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter go into hiding when James and Lily do, knowing they could be tortured for their whereabouts despite not knowing them. Remus comes bursting through their fireplace on Halloween, covered in cuts and bruises and coughing with baby Harry cradled against his chest. Through hacking breaths and with glassy eyes, he tells them their son is dead with his wife and Sirius has been arrested for their murder, along with Peter’s and some Muggles’. He kisses their foreheads and tells them to take care of themselves, leaving with the last words he ever says to them -

“I loved your son. So did Sirius. We - I will do everything I can to protect Harry. I promise.”

He disappears through the fireplace before they can respond, leaving them to grieve.

TWELVE: Walburga & Orion Black

After leaving Harry with Dumbledore, who assures him the child will be given to the custody of his living father as soon as he’s emerged from his undercover work (a lie, Remus later learns), Remus makes his way to Regulus’ grave. There’s no body there, of course, but Remus never got to say goodbye to the boy he considered something of a son, and he figures now, when he’s lost everything, is as good a time as any.

It turns out he’s not alone - Walburga and Orion Black, not yet locked up in Azkaban for their crimes, are there already, and spit in his face for daring to grieve their son when he’s a werewolf who supposedly turned their other one queer and heady. Remus stares them down, and in a calm voice with his hands in his pockets tells them -

“I loved Regulus like a brother. As for Sirius… well, he married two blokes. Oh -” He smirks. “And he was damn good in bed, too.”

Walburga lets out a shrill scream, turning her wand on Remus, and he holds his head high as he disarms both her and her husband and promptly kills the two people who made his husband’s life a living hell for sixteen years. As he stands there, staring at their still-warm bodies and always-cold eyes, he can feel no remorse - only a deep ache, loss and regret plaguing him with age long before his time.

THIRTEEN: Molly & Arthur Weasley

Twelve years pass without so much as a breath from Sirius or Remus. James is six feet under and Harry is thirteen, and after the havoc that occurs at Hogwarts his third year, they settle at Grimmauld Place, together. Molly and Arthur are tasked with bringing them essentials and information, and take notice of the fact that the two rarely leave each other’s sides. They’re wearing their wedding bands, which Molly does not fail to notice are marked with antlers as well as moons and pawprints, and Remus has another ring around a chain on his neck with only a pawprint and a moon. They look tired and worn out, Sirius more than Remus, and one day Molly pulls him aside to ask him privately if they’re doing alright.

Remus gives her a wry smile, his eyes twinkling just the slightest bit as he answers, “Yes. Of course.” Molly asks him again, saying she’s worried, and Remus shrugs, looking through doorways to Sirius, at the table with Arthur.

“I’ve had twelve years to grieve. Getting Sirius - getting my husband back was the greatest happiness I could ever ask for. But Sirius, he… he was never allowed to truly mourn. He’s still…”

He gets this distant look in his eyes and startles when Molly touches his arm, offering a small smile.

“I’ve had time to grieve our partner, is all I’m saying,” he murmurs. “Sirius needs time before he can even begin to forgive himself for what happened to James.”

Molly keeps her shock inward, squeezing Remus’ arm once before ushering her husband out the door. Watching from outside as Grimmauld Place folds back into itself, she thinks she sees two silhouettes in the window, melting into one.

FOURTEEN: Nymphadora Tonks

Nymphadora Tonks falls in love with Remus Lupin almost the moment she meets him. He’s handsome, he’s funny, he’s kind and smart and brave - what else could you want? And she thinks he likes her too - even if her cousin is desperately in love with him, which she would have to be blind not to see. But she knows this the way she knows the rhythm of her heartbeat in her chest - Remus Lupin was born to be hers.

So imagine her surprise when his response to her confession is to shake his head and laugh.

“I’m a married man, Dora,” he drawls, standing and flashing his ring towards her around a glass of whiskey. “I thought you knew that. I am sorry to say I cannot return your feelings… beyond my marriage, age, and lycanthropy, you must have noticed that women are not… my area.”

Tonks flushes red, jerking back in shock. So her cousin…

“Is it Sirius?” She blurts, and Remus turns towards her again, his eyes twinkling. He nods.

“Yes,” he answers. “Though, I had a second husband… long ago, and a partner more than anything…”

With a distant look in his eyes, he leaves her heartbroken at the dining room table, but not before she sees him slip into a waiting Sirius’ arms, holding him close to his chest as they dance, their eyes closed and two rings bearing antlers hanging between them.

FIFTEEN: Hermione Granger

She starts to wonder, right around the beginning of her fifth year, why Harry seems to have no interest in hanging out with anyone besides her and Ron. Now, she and Ron, they’re in love with each other; Hermione’s neither daft nor blind. But Harry’s in love with them both too, she realizes, and his closest relationships outside of that are past platonic but far from romantic: she can’t call what he has with Luna or Draco “normal”. The summer before her sixth year, she travels to Grimmauld Place, needing some time alone to think before the war envelopes them all. But she finds, when she arrives, that she’s not alone - there, at the dining room table, is Remus, holding a glass of whiskey and wearing three identical rings on a chain around his neck.

“Professor Lupin?” She asks, and Remus smiles wryly. “What’re you doing here?”

Remus sighs, leaving his glass on the table as he stands and grabs his coat.

“Just a bit of reminiscing, my dear,” he says. “No matter. Off we go now, this place belongs to Harry and we have no right to…”

He trails off, his eyes glistening, and Hermione watches his Adam’s apple bob and averts her eyes to the rings, each holding a different two of three symbols: a pawprint, a moon, and a pair of antlers. One of them is the one Sirius used to wear around, always a little loose on his finger from all that malnourishment… Remus must have just grasped it before he fell through the Veil. At the thought, her breath catches in her throat.

“Sirius was your…” She says, and stops when Remus flinches. He gives her a kind smile and nods.

“Yes,” he says. “And James as well, though that was different. More of a… friend, partner - soulmate? -” Hermione coughs. “- than a lover. But, yes. Not that it matters now.”

Hermione’s heart stops in her chest.

“Of course it matters,” she fires back. “You loved him. You loved him, and he’s dead.”

Remus looks down at her, his smile gone, and shrugs.

“All things end, Hermione,” he murmurs. “Especially good things.”

He opens the door and has one foot outside when he turns back to her and says, “Miss Granger?” She looks up at him from her hands, shaking and devoid of rings, and nods.

“Yes?”

Remus smiles, his eyes sad.

“Tell your Harry we love him. All seven of the Marauders, even if some of us never really got to meet him. And tell him… tell him that even if he didn’t die for him or raise him, his father loves him.”

Hermione’s brow furrows, but she nods.

“Of course,” she promises, though she has no idea who the other three Marauders are and could not even begin to guess what Remus means by his comment on Harry’s father. “I will.”

Remus smiles one last time, tips his invisible hat to her, and disappears out the front door and into the night.

ONE: Harry Potter

Remus marries Tonks, but doesn’t love her. Teddy is an accident, and only his in name. Remus will only ever have one son, and his name is Harry Potter.

In the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin dies with three rings around his neck and a secret in his chest. He does not tell Harry. He doesn’t want to burden him.

Their love, along with them, is dead and gone anyway. But when he sees Sirius and James in the white light, for the split second between life and death -

He wonders.

[hypnomicimagines]

☂️Rainy Day Blues☂️[Nurude Sasara]☂️

Oh, how tragedy loved to strike Sasara when he least expected it.

He had been walking to your house with an extra pep in his step, the fresh bouquet he’d picked up along the way only lifting his mood. He was stuck in daydreams even before he reached you, thinking about how lovely you’d look that night and how he couldn’t wait to do the little things like hold your hand as you were on the way to your date destination. He thought that nothing could possibly dampen his happiness, that him finally confessing after years of being in relationship purgatory had made him see the brighter side of any situation, but it seemed he still had blinders on in some aspects. His parade was about to be rained on.

Literally.

Sasara didn’t know where the icy rain had come from but it hit him like a sack of bricks, goosebumps rising on his skin as his leisurely walk turned into a marathon run as he made his way to your apartment complex. He hadn’t checked the weather forecast, who did that anymore? Clearly Sasara’s hubris had upset the weather Gods as he caught sight of himself in a window, no longer looking like your handsome suitor but a sad clown that had just walked through a door with a bucket of water precariously balanced on top of it. The bouquet is just as pathetic as he is, and hey, aren’t flowers supposed to like water? Why were they drooping like that? You’d probably laugh in his face when you saw them.

You did.

He had to get you back somehow for laughing at his plight despite the fact your laughter had quickly washed away every negative emotion he’d previously been feeling. He had to get you back somehow and decided to show you his best ‘wet dog’ impersonation, shaking his hair out in your doorway and giving you a little preview of what it was like outside. The rain had only started to come down harder, thunder and lightning being added to the mix, meaning it was unlikely the date would continue as planned. Not to mention his hair which he had spent an entire three minutes and seven seconds on was now a poofed out mess due to how he chose to dry out his hair, not that you seemed to mind. You laughed again at his saggy bouquet, telling him you loved it no matter how pathetic it looked (he hoped that was the last time he ever heard that).

“We can just spend the night in. Why do you look so excited that I said that? Did you think I’d tell you to walk home?”

“I’d never accuse you of something so cold-hearted!”

“Good, I’m glad to see the rain hasn’t washed away your remaining brain cell. Come in and change your clothes, too, as much as I love seeing you be a complete eyesore, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Shouldn’t you stripping me of my clothes wait until after dinner? Not that I mind.”

“You know what… Maybe walking home in the rain is just what you need. Maybe you’ll get struck by lightning and have some sort of epiphany that’ll make you funny.”

“Now you really sound like Rosho,” Sasara sighed out, fighting the smile that wanted to break out on his face so he could keep up the ‘hurt’ façade he was putting on, “To think that the person I love most would say such things to me… I’ll go back outside to hide my tears!”

“Bye.”

You closed the door behind him as he stepped into your apartment, heading straight to your bedroom and thinking about how he had essentially done a speed run of the date. He hadn’t suspected he’d be here until a little bit later but he couldn’t say he was complaining as you joined him, digging through your drawers for some spare clothes that he had left behind the various other times he’d stayed over on a whim. He purposely left his clothes with you just so you’d always have something to remember him by, weaseling his way into your heart first and now your home, hoping that he might even get a whole draw just for his stuff one day. His apartment was certainly the winner with its scenic view but since you had yet to talk about the whole ‘moving in’ thing, he decided he’d get you used to the idea by leaving random things of his behind so you were used to it when it finally did happen.

“Here you go.” You set the clothes down on the counter, taking a second to admire how cute he looked with a wet mop of hair on his head, reaching over to run your fingers through it just for good measure, “I’d say take a shower but I don’t actually want you struck by lightning.”

“But you seem to like my hair so much… It could become a permanent fixture with the help of electricity.”

“I do like it,” You confirmed, smiling as you stroked his hair fondly, Sasara’s heart pounding loudly in his chest, “Almost as much as I like you. Get changed while I try to find some candles. I can’t imagine we’re going to have power too long so…”

You spoke the unfortunate lightning strike into existence that completely knocked out anything electrical in the apartment building and part of Sasara wonders if you had spoken the rain into existence, too. Had this been your plan all along? Had you wanted to just trap him in your room from the get-go, using him for your own needs and then discarding him afterward? Sasara considered suggesting that type of supervillain roleplay on a less romantic night but for now his head was still in the clouds, wanting to do simple things like hold your hand and cuddle against you, sucking the warmth out of you as he had no spare warmth to give at this point.

“Y-You’re cold!” Sasara had reached out to touch you when the lights had first gone out, wanting to assure you were still there and okay first, “Just be careful as you get changed! I’ll be right back!”

You’re only gone about ten minutes but it’s so painfully lonely in the bathroom without you, Sasara already thinking about the letter he’d write to you if you had gone off to war. He would be the lonely maiden waiting by the window, longing to see their love again, dramatically falling to the ground as he received the news that you had passed away. He was already thinking about how he’d meet your ghost in the afterlife to confirm he never fell in love again when you entered the bathroom, face highlighted by a small candle that he’s almost positive he had gifted you.

“Come on, come on! It’s a little better in the living room and the blankets are all out.” You moved the candle to one hand and reached down to grab his, fingers lacing together without words having to even be exchanged. “I don’t want you getting lost.”

“The only place I’ll get lost is in your eyes, beautiful.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re lucky you’re cute? Because you’re sooo lucky you’re cute!” He can tell from your tone that there’s a wide smile on your face, the one that made him feel like the most successful comedian in the world. Getting you to laugh was no easy task and you had never been one to show him even a dollop of mercy when it came to his material but it made it all the more worth it when he got to hear you laugh. Every time you laughed an angel grew its wings, that’s how the saying went, right? It doesn’t matter as his brain is entirely centered around you and only you, especially as the two of you seat yourselves on your ridiculously comfortable couch.

“I don’t know what we’ll eat… It’s gonna be cold and sad.”

“As long as we’re not cold and sad, it’s fine, right?”

“Fair enough.”

His arm wrapped around you as you threw your legs across his lap, the blanket quickly following suit as you curled up into his side. You wondered how many people would be surprised that Mr. Tragic Comedy was not only a total romantic but a stage five clinger, unlikely to give you a moment alone now that you had both finally settled in together. Sasara valued his privacy from time to time but when it came to you, it seemed his social battery could never run out; he wanted to be around you, to be with you, to be touching you and talking to you as much as he possibly could.

“What should we do?” Sasara quickly grew uncomfortable with the silence and you felt bad for your boyfriend, knowing his anxiety tended to spike in the silence. You wished you had something to act as white noise in the background but it seemed all you could do to distract him was talk, or listen to a slew of jokes that would have you standing in the rain rather than being in your own apartment if they were on par with the normal puns he liked to deliver.

“Tell me about your day before you got here. Did you talk to Rosho about your birthday plans?”

Sasara is grateful for the conversation starter as once he’s begun to talk, he’s adept at not shutting up again.  

It was going to be a long, rainy night, but at least you got to spend it together.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 37

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The vast sitting area of the rooms was where Loki and you spent the rest of the night. It was a comfortable place, clad in silks and velvets, but there was a certain tension in the air that prevented you from enjoying it fully. 

The sounds coming from outside, mostly from the wilderness of gardens beyond the balcony. They were nothing of what you might've experienced on Earth. The wild shrieks followed by soft cooing and voices unnervingly similar to child's laughter sent shivers down your spine whenever you tried to imagine what sort of creature might make them. 

And how close it was.

There was fruit left on the table in a large bowl polished to the point of mirroring whatever came close to it. Some of them resembled in shape what you knew from Earth, but there were many that didn't. 

You reached for a yellow roundish one and peeled the skin off. It had a sour taste of overripe mush. 

Loki munched on small blue berries while he sat by the fire. He did his best to remain calm, but his foot kept twitching nervously every now and then. 

"How many assassinations have you been through?" you asked when you sat next to him. He turned to let you put your head on his knees. 

"Two for political reasons, back on Asgard. Some idiots thought they could wipe out the ruling dynasty and take over. There was one more when Thor and I have been sent as ambassadors to a place newly conquered and visibly unhappy about it. And one when I just didn't get along with some noble. To this day I have no idea why," he stated with a smile that said otherwise. 

His finger followed the plane of your brow tenderly. 

"Sounds like you were a dick to the wrong person. You have that effect on people." 

"...could be."

A soft knock at the door ended the moment. You looked through the balcony. The colors began to shift. 

A man you'd never seen before waited for you in the corridor. You weren't sure if he was a guard, but the thin, needle-like sword by his side suggested so. Or maybe no one there felt safe anymore. 

Loki took your hand as you followed the silent man. He was as tall as the High Prince and the Queen, but of a slender build, almost as if he would break should any pressure be applied to his bones. What startled you the most was that you were finally able to see him clearly. The shadows still seemed to cling to him as a second skin, but there was no blurriness that made your head hurt like yesterday. 

His sharp and cold eyes noticed you watching him. There was no softness to his features. The untamed darkness of his skin shifted wildly as a storm front would swallow the sky in endless hunger. 

He guided you through winding paths between the pillars in shades of off-gray, partially hidden under the climbing ropes of tiny flowers. The breeze snuck between them, careful as to not make a sound. 

The man led you to a terrace bathed in shadow from overhanging roses. Their thick thorns and sturdy branches intertwined savagely, forming a close-packed, unbreakable surface. 

"High Prince." Loki bowed his head toward the lord waiting underneath the roses. You quickly followed suit. . 

The guard left you without a word, walking away on silent, bare feet. 

The High Prince wore a tunic of deep blues and intricate patterns of interlaced branches, or maybe animals, or maybe spiders with their long, thin legs creeping from behind whatever tried to run. The design shifted whenever you thought you finally grasped it. You turned your eyes away before it became impossible. 

"Despite the outrage among my people," he said in a tone rich with shimmering starlight, "I still hope this mess can be solved bloodlessly. And quickly." 

His head was close to the concentrated woven wall of thorns and roses above him. The Prince didn't seem to bother staying careful. His horns, painted with a silver dye, glinted sharply. 

"We'll do our best," Loki promised. "What happened on the day of the murder?" 

"Nothing beyond the usual. Asgard's ambassador had taken a liking to our library, and spent most of his days there, along with one of the librarian's assistants. And then one day, they were found right there, bloodied and cold." His hand moved. The long, spindly fingers were tipped with claws. 

He motioned towards a niche under the overhanging roses. When you first entered the balcony, you thought it was bathed in dense shadow. But shadows could never be red. 

"The lord had of course faded by the time his remains were found, and not much was left of him. We have moved the Asgardian’s… body to the rooms he used to occupy, and spelled it to remain intact had you any need to investigate it."

"We are terribly sorry for the loss," Loki said, watching the dark splotches of dried blood. Judging by their expanse, no one bothered to clean them. 

You wondered if, in a world where its inhabitants simply faded, and their life energy was returned to the core of their world, they were surprised to see such a mess left. You looked up at the roses in full bloom, their flowers meaty and wide open to the endless light of the sky without sun. 

The Prince followed your gaze. 

"Beautiful, aren't they?" For the first time since arriving, he addressed you. "I have never seen them bloom. The assistant's link to the core wasn't strong, but even it was enough to revive a part of it." 

Despite the warmth of the castle, you shivered. There was nothing human in the eyes regarding you with calculated care. 

"We'll do our best to bring this matter to a swift end," Loki said, taking a casual step ahead, cutting through that stare. "And investigate everything thoroughly." 

The smile he wore like an armor was edged and unpleasant. In a place where thoughts shaped reality, words could be knives, used carefully and meticulously. 

"I hope so." 

The High Prince left the balcony, his horns scratching the unyielding surface of roses. One of them was cut, and rained down in tears of red petals. The spiraling patterns of the lord's tunic seemed to look at you as he walked into the bright corridors with his hands clasped behind his back. There was something wrong with the shadows circling beneath his feet. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding. "I try really hard, but the longer we stay here, the harder it gets to find at least one normal thing in this place." 

"I promise that once we're done here, I'll show you a world less… corrupted."

"I honestly can't wait." 

You walked over to the place where two people you'd never get to know had their lives ended. There was nothing special about the crumbling stone, corroded by the passing of time and the shifting currents of energy in the air. 

Loki reached into the depths of his magic in hope of finding any trace of whoever was behind it. But the Edge's magic was wild and tangled, and whoever paid a visit there, left no magical footprint. 

Loki came closer and reached over your shoulder. The curtain of roses lifted a little, showing a hole where the balcony's railing should've been. Beneath it, the castle's wall was in a rough state, with pieces missing. You both looked down through it, toward the ground. 

"I may not be an expert climber," you said, "but I have a feeling getting on this balcony through there wouldn't really be a problem." 

"I am an expert climber, especially when it comes to castles," Loki judged the distance and crumbled stone, "and it definitely wouldn't. The only question is, why not actually use the stairs?" 

"If I was a 7 foot tall High Prince with murderous intent, I'd prefer to stay out of people's sight too. And if I knew the whereabouts of the most hated person in my kingdom, I don't think it'd be hard to sneak into the place he passes on his way from the library every day."

"That sounds oddly specific, darling, and almost as if you suggest that the most important lord on the Edge wanted to murder that ambassador, but not in a way that would immediately start a war. Why do it sneakily and request an investigation? That sounds like extra steps leading nowhere." 

"That is a hole in my theory," you admitted, walking away from the dried swaths of blood. "But you have to admit he acts a little off. Literally everything is suspicious about him. And it would actually make sense if he started murdering people in order to keep himself from fading. You've seen what it already did to some roses. If he used more people..."

You leaned on the railing and Loki followed. The gardens the balcony overlooked were a tangled chaos of branches, flowers, and trees leaning heavily to the sides, as if in the middle of moving. Huge statues of people you had no knowledge about rose through them, staring with blind eyes. If anyone wanted to use them as cover to get to the wall, it wouldn't be a problem. But what for? 

You put your head on Loki's shoulder and felt his arm wrap around your waist. 

"My theory makes no sense," you said into the leather of his armor. 

"We don't have enough clues yet to make a sound one. Don't worry about it, we just got here." 

He sent you a soft smile, one he rarely let anyone see. It often caught you off-guard with how much tenderness could be found in his smallest gestures. It was a relief to have someone by your side, wherever you went and whatever you had to deal with. There was something reassuring with knowing that even in the vast expanse of the universe, you weren't alone. 

"Thank you," you muttered into his lips softly. 

Standing so close, you felt the moment his surprise shifted into something else. 

Loki pulled you closer into the kiss, with need and joy digging his fingers into the nape of your neck. He didn't force you, though, and when for the briefest moment something else caught your eye, he didn't stop you moving away. 

His lips were pink and the breath they caught, ragged. With heavy lids, Loki followed your gaze towards the gardens behind you. 

The Queen stood as still as if she already were one of the statues overlooking the gardens and the narrow, gravel paths winding between them. Her gown was made out of silk as ethereal and delicate as moonlight, and on anyone else, it would look regal and grand. But the fading was a cruel destiny, and one that paid no favor to those afflicted. The Queen clad in silks and jewelry like falling stars was barely there, gray despite the light bathing the world. Despite the remnants of life still dwelling deep inside her. 

Her eyes were empty to the home around her, no recognition or emotion showing on her face. She looked at a patch of flowers climbing over one of the statues, but it was uncertain if she actually saw them. 

An appropriate distance away, another figure stood. It was a woman with a headpiece covering her squat, stunted horns like morning mist on a spiderweb. A scar ran down her right cheek, old and badly healed. Her eyes were trained on the Queen, but her pose was stooped and bored. She must've been a guard delegated to ensure the well-being of the fading ghost of the Queen. 

"I might've just shifted into detective mode, because something is telling me that maybe we should think of looking for witnesses," you whispered. 

Loki shivered, feeling your breath brush his neck in a gentle caress. 

"Talking to her would be considered a great offense," he said with a slight rasp to his voice. "The ones who are fading are supposed to be left alone to reconcile with the core as their essence fades. It's a tradition, and an important rule." 

"When do we break it?" 

Loki eyed the guard. 

"...once she's alone. It shouldn't be difficult to find her, even though everyone seems to overlook her." 

"And that's why she could be a witness to so many things," you said with newfound hope. Something clenched in Loki's chest as he watched your face lit up. It was a beautiful sight. 

"Looks like we have a plan." He offered you his arm. "But before we spit on tradition, how about we pay a little visit to our lovely corpse?" 

"Of course." You took it. "I can't wait to see what he has to offer." 

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

He’s getting used to the throne these days. It still feels too big, too cold, polished wood unyielding to his new title — but he’s getting there. Sort of. He doesn’t flinch when people call him ‘sect leader’ anymore, even if it took a war and a few extra months to get used to it. There are still too few disciples, but they’ve started to build again. He’d recalled all the disciples out on night hunts or assisting villages back at the start of the war, and the survivors are still retained in Lotus Pier, training newcomers and repairing the damage that couldn’t be fixed while they were on the frontlines. In a few months, after the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, it’ll be time for the new round of juniors to join the ranks here. He’s already read through the letters from parents seeking admission — not many, not nearly what it used to be back when he was young and still stumbling through sword forms with the earliest classes — but it’s something. It’s a start to the future he always held in his mind. There’ll be fresh juniors and he’ll stand where his father once stood on the deck before Sword Hall while Wei Wuxian directs them through their forms. It won’t be perfect, won’t be exactly the way he always imagined, but it’s — it’s enough. He’ll have his sect and a-jie and Wei Wuxian, and he’ll finally get Wei Wuxian out of his weird funk and wielding Suibian again and it’ll be — right. They can finally push aside the shades of the war and figure out this future together. Or, he thinks bitterly as familiar steps approach, they can if his idiot brother ever gets his shit together.

Wei Wuxian saunters in, posture loose with wine and steps easy and swaying. Irritation flares up his spine first at his absentness and then at the wine he offers, as if that’s any consolation for his brother abandoning him all day. They’re supposed to be working together, rebuilding together. How’s Wei Wuxian supposed to be his right hand if he can’t even stick around?

“Why are you scrubbing your sword all day? How many times a day do you need to clean it?” Wei Wuxian teases, settling on the steps with that damned flute. “Where’s yours?” Jiang Cheng snaps. He found Suibian for him, carried it around for months for him and now? Now it’s like Wei Wuxian couldn’t care less for the sword he carried for years. “How long ago did you clean it?” Wei Wuxian drinks instead of answering immediately, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, sheathing Sandu. Of course he’ll become reticent now, when he’s neglecting his own duties. “I left it in my room,” he says. “Once a month should do.” It wouldn’t be so bad if Jiang Cheng just understood. If he just knew why Wei Wuxian’s been acting so strangely, he could move on. But there’s no explanation except Wei Wuxian’s careless whims, and it grates against Jiang Cheng’s nerves like the fractured end of a bone. He still remembers how awed Wei Wuxian was when they first received their swords, how he clung to Suibian like it was the greatest treasure he’d ever see. He’d thrown himself into training, into outpacing their seniors, with Jiang Cheng chasing after him. Where’s that love now? Where’s that dedication?

“Not carrying a sword in public. Drinking in a tavern all day,” he snaps. “You must think Lotus Pier is the inn where you can rest when you’ve drunk enough.” He wants to leave. He wants to go to bed and wake up to a clear morning with his brother back at his side, ready to take up his responsibilities again. Instead, Wei Wuxian jogs forward and loops his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Ah! Jiang Cheng, don’t be so mad,” he says.

It’s an instinctive thing, the kind of reflexive jab they’ve been giving each other since Wei Wuxian came to Lotus Pier. It’s not like it ever hurts Wei Wuxian; even with a spark of Jiang Cheng’s qi behind it, Wei Wuxian has more than enough to flick the force off like a gnat. He falls. His brother falls from that absent jab, and Jiang Cheng stops short, staring. Surely he’s not that drunk. Even in Cloud Recesses, he’d managed to wrangle Lan Wangji himself after drinking all night. A spark of worry flickers in his chest. “Are you fine?” he asks. “Too drunk to manage your spiritual power? Look at yourself. Talking about reviving the Jiang clan with me.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t answer, stays on the floor where Jiang Cheng put him. Annoyed, Jiang Cheng steps forward to pull him up by the wrist. “Stay there,” Wei Wuxian snaps, arm thrust out with Chenqing in his fist. He doesn’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes, still braced with his hand pressed into the hall floor. “Wei Wuxian?” he asks and can’t spare a thought to hate how scared and small it comes out. He swallows, hand clenched so tight on Chenqing held like a bar between them, and doesn’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes. His face is ashy and drawn, the way it always is these days, but now Jiang Cheng’s seized with sudden, fierce fear. He’s accepted the ghostly edges to Wei Wuxian lately without question. He’d been missing and there was the war and who walked away without a few new shadows and nightmares nipping at their heels? But Wei Wuxian — Wei Wuxian looks like death has scrolled frostwork in lace curls over his bones. All Lan Wangji’s terse reprimands from the campaign now clamor in his ears: it will damage your body and temperament, your mind—

He leans down, grabbing Wei Wuxian’s wrist. “Wei Wuxian, come on,” he says. “Don’t—” Wei Wuxian says, jerking away too late. A whip of resentful energy lashes out, smacks Jiang Cheng hard enough to break his hold and knock him on his ass. The impact jars him, rattles up through his skull. Wei Wuxian stares at him, wide-eyed with horror. Jiang Cheng stares back. “Your core,” he blurts out. “Your core — what the fuck, Wei Wuxian?” His jaw tightens, eyes too-bright like an animal caught in a snare. Jiang Cheng stares at him, palms still flat on the wooden floor from breaking his fall. It’s impossible. How— When— He said he was caught by Wen Chao back in Yiling, before he disappeared. Understanding, horrible and toothed, digs out of his chest. “Wen Zhulio,” he snarls. “He died too quickly.” Jiang Cheng knows he’s not a good man. He’s too proud and too selfish and he would do horrible, unforgivable things for the people he loves. He wants, viciously, to summon Wen Zhulio’s spirit and break it. “But— Baoshan Sanren,” he starts, hope surging before memory — this is your one chance, Jiang Cheng — snaps its neck. “Wei Wuxian, you idiot. Why did you give me your favor? You could have gone to her, you didn’t—” “I don’t regret it,” Wei Wuxian interjects, strangely vehement. “Jiang Cheng, I won’t regret it.” “You don’t— Are you stupid, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng half-yells. “You—your core is gone! You fought— Gods, you fought a war with—” “I don’t need coddled, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian snarls. “I’m the one who took Nightless City, aren’t I? I’m not fragile—”

Anger surges, crackling, up through his grief, charging it like lightning through water. “I didn’t say— You could have died!” he shouts. “You could have died and you never told us? Were you ever going to tell us?” That silences Wei Wuxian, and he looks away sharply. A muscle jumps in the back of his jaw. Jiang Cheng’s lips part, shock and hurt trembling through him. “You weren’t,” he breathes. The realization hurts like a kick to the chest, a heel to the soft, unprotected spot right below his breastbone. “You were never going to tell us. Fuck you, Wei Wuxian. How fucking dare you. We’re your family. You’re supposed to talk to us. Don’t you trust us anymore?” Wei Wuxian’s gaze snaps to him, eyes wide. “No, Jiang Cheng,” he protests. “Of course I trust you and shijie. Of course, I— I just didn’t want you to worry.” He can feel his disbelief turn scathing even as he drags himself up to grab Wei Wuxian by the collar. This time, he goes without resistance, no flute or energy between them. “You didn’t want us to worry? What, did you think we weren’t worried when you showed up acting weird as hell and commanding corpses?” he spits. “Did you think we weren’t worried when you refused to carry Suibian or when you keep snapping at everyone within ten li?” His brother shakes in his hands, limp and too-light. Tears drip from his cheeks to break on the knuckles of Jiang Cheng’s thumbs. He’s not sure when he started crying, but they burn down his cheeks and choke in his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Why?” he sobs out. His hands are still fisted in Wei Wuxian’s collar, but he’s just clinging now, holding on. “I can’t be your right hand,” Wei Wuxian says, little more than a broken murmur. “I can’t — I can’t wield Suibian or train the disciples or — or do anything. I’m— Useless. I’m useless.” As he speaks, his voice shivers down into a whisper, into a horrified confession. Fear is no longer a flicker but a hand around Jiang Cheng’s throat. None of this can be happening. His brother has always been the one cheerful in the face of suffocating night, the one who has a plan, who sees impossibilities as a dare. It’s why Jiang Cheng distracted the Wen guards, why he gave up his core and life; as long as Wei Wuxian lived, he would be able to figure out a way to keep a-jie safe, to rebuild the sect, to avenge their parents. Jiang Cheng clings to him and doesn’t have any answer at all.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #4- Man, Talk About Timely, Huh? It’s Time for the Plague Storyline!

Issue #4 opens up with First Aid writing in his diary about the less-than-stellar working conditions at Delphi medical center, and it’s not because Ambulon caught him reading Wreckers fanfic during office hours for the eighth time this week.

So, here’s the thing: you can’t be demoted from doctor to nurse. That’s not how that goes, because doctors and nurses aren’t on the same career path ladder. A doctor can have certain accesses and privileges taken away if their performance slips, or can be moved to a different ward or transferred to another facility, but outright demotion to nurse status isn’t a THING. If anything, First Aid would be performing nurse duties to cover for the fact that Delphi seems to have a grand total of three staff members for the entire outpost. Hell, they’ve had to outsource their mental health checkups to a guy who was in orbit over Cybertron until a couple months ago.

But anyway, something’s up at Delphi, and it all started when they let a couple of Decepticon surrendering combatants inside. These two dudes were running from the Decepticon Justice Division, a group who basically super-murder any Decepticon who’s decided to do a runner from the Cause. The DJD’s base of operations is in the same general area as Delphi, which seems like maybe not the best idea for the Autobots when it came to outpost placement, but it seems to be working out pretty well for the surrendering combatants.

Pharma shows up, and is ready to throw them back outside- he’s the big boss, so he can make that kind of call- but after a little detective works they figure out that the two don’t have their t-cogs anymore, having had them removed for religious purposes. Ambulon sees them as the exact opposite of a threat because of this, not to mention him having a soft spot for surrendering ‘Cons, and manages to convince Pharma to let them stay, and also not violate the Autobot Code, Article 7, which states that all surrendering combatants must be granted safe haven. Ultra Magnus would be proud.

They lock up the Decepticons, slate them for a patch up, then things get complicated as it turns out, they’ve got a branched spark. The last time we saw a branched spark, things didn’t turn out so hot, and it looks like things have started going similarly downhill.

But enough about the horrific deaths of dozens of robots on a frozen planet, it’s time for bar shenanigans!

While Skids prepares to commit an act of violence on a droid that’s done absolutely nothing to him and is just trying to do its friggin’ job, Swerve reveals to Ratchet that he’s decided to follow his dreams after all and open a bar. He doesn’t have all the paperwork turned in yet, per se, but he’s working on it. He hands Ratchet a free drink to celebrate the off-panel event of the Lost Light having found itself on the map again, and Ratchet, who’s apparently never heard of a shot, gripes about the portioning.

Of course, he might have a bit of a point, as the drink seems to shrink more and more as he talks to Swerve about the fact that they’re both giant nerds who were subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified.

Was non-war-related entertainment just not allowed for the last four million years? No wonder the war went on for so long- everyone was so steeped in it they forgot how to function like regular people. Since the logs were beamed directly into the brain, I can only imagine the amount of physic damage that last entry caused.

The reason Ratchet’s brought up everyone’s favorite podcast is that there was a new entry last night- odd, considering that Ironfist’s been dead for a couple years at this point. It was just a series of seemingly random numbers, or at least it would have been, if Ratchet wasn’t a good doctor who kept up-to-date on his medical news.

My my, I do wonder which Wreckers: Declassified subscriber could have sent those statistics on Delphi out into the aether.

As luck would have it, the Lost Light isn’t terribly far away from Messatine at the moment, which is the planet Delphi is on. Ratchet decides it’s time to check things out.

Over in Rodimus’ very pink room, Ultra Magnus wants to have a discussion about Tailgate, and the fact that he wants to be a Decepticon. This is, obviously, a problem, considering the fact that everyone on the ship, who wasn’t stuck in some sort of hole or alternate dimension for the last six millions years, is staunchly anti-Decepticon. Magnus laments on the fact that now that the war is over, he has to start seeing people as people, as opposed to cogs in the machine. Magnus is one of those guys who functions better with structure, which the Lost Light doesn’t really have a ton of.

Rodimus tells Magnus to lighten up a bit, before he pulls something trying to bring military regulation into civilian life, and says that he’ll handle the whole Tailgate thing.

Back down on Messatine, Ratchet’s dragged Drift and Pipes of all people into his little visit to Delphi, and they’re rocking up to the scene on the MARBs- Mobile Autobot Repair Bays. This is Pipe’s first space adventure, and he’s really happy to be here!

We’ll see how he feels a little later in the day.

As the boys make their way over to the plot, Drift and Ratchet lay a bit of groundwork down for future storylines, then arrive outside Delphi to find the door locked and spray painted with a big ol’ X.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet. Let’s see how that pays off.

Pipes decides to do a thing and crash through the entrance like a hooligan. It goes about as well as one could expect, though we do a pretty sweet and unnecessary flip from Drift out of it.

We’re going to need to soak Pipes in rubbing alcohol for a good hour.

Ratchet yells at Pipes for busting into a medical outpost that clearly wasn’t meant to be cracked open like a cold one, not to mention knocking over at least three hospital beds.

Then a sick guy shows up and Drift flips the hell out and slices up a guy so hard Pipes has to remove his visor to watch the insanity unfold.

The whole “sword murder” thing doesn’t really gel with the idea of “do no harm”, so Ratchet and Drift get into it a bit before First Aid shows up and starts drawing on Pipe’s face.

Back on the Lost Light, Rodimus is keeping his promise and dealing with Tailgate, with the help of Rewind, resident historical archivist and the guy who’s about to rock Tailgate’s fucking world in under 12 seconds.

Okay. So.

The thing about recorded history is everything has a bias. No matter how impartial the recorder attempts to be, no matter how detached, there will ALWAYS be at least a little bleedthough. Now, while it’s unlikely Rewind’s been in direct combat, because he’s friggin’ tiny and turns into a data slug, and while he doesn’t seem the patriotic type, he’s still an Autobot. He’s only been on one side of the war, so most, if all all of his archive, is built from the framework of being surrounded by Autobot mindsets and propaganda. It would appear that this isn’t the first time Rewind’s done something like this, if he already has the upload time committed to memory down to the tens decimal. If he’d been asked to do this prior to the conclusion of the war- very likely, considering it ended a few months ago- what are the odds that he was asked to frame things a little more in favor of his own team? Pretty good, I’d think.

Guys, I don’t think Tailgate is having a good time with the history lesson.

Needless to say, any concern over Tailgate wanting to be a Decepticon is pretty soundly quashed after this.

Back over with the plague plotline, First Aid gives Ratchet the rundown on the symptoms they’ve run into at Delphi.

You fucker, you got that line from Wreckers: Declassified.

Delphi hasn’t been able to call for help, because even if they didn’t have their hands full of liquified robot, communications have been out since something went off and broke pretty much everything in the outpost, general health and well-being included. First Aid suspects a dirty bomb, curtesy of the DJD. The tour of the facility ends in the medical bay proper, where Ambulon is hard at work trying to keep folks alive.

Ratchet looks over the scene, and notes that the older patients in the ward aren’t crying their literal eyeballs out. Weird, that.

Ambulon shows off their super-secret patient, who is kept in shadow for the reader, to keep the suspense going for a bit longer. Mystery patient’s been in an “everlasting coma” since he got here, and while Ambulon and Pharma don’t think anything can be done, First Aid’s willing to get weird with it.

Earlier in the issue, it was mentioned that Ambulon didn’t think First Aid took any initiative. Turns out, First Aid does, and has, just not on things Ambulon agrees with.

It was at that point that Ratchet decided he rather liked First Aid.

Back with Tailgate, he’s returned to his room to confront Cyclonus, who’s busy doing something on the computer. What exactly isn’t revealed, and never will be.

Tailgate is really cross about the fact that Cyclonus let him walk around on a ship full of Autobots claiming he wanted to be a Decepticon. Of course, it’s not like Cyclonus knew he was going to be such a loudmouth about it, otherwise maybe he would have told him to maybe NOT do that, if only to prevent his life getting further muddied up by a war he wasn’t even around for.

Tailgate’s gotten really worked up over this, because that’s just how he is as a person, and even goes so far as to punch Cyclonus in the arm in his frustration. He apologizes almost immediately, but the bear’s already been poked, unfortunately.

Oh, honeybunches, you are going to be regretting that move for the next five years.

But not before the customary “pulling away from the one guy who’ll even talk to you because you don’t know how to properly react to anything anymore" thing.

Back on Messatine, we find out where Pharma got to- he’s been locked into the quarantine room by accident, and will remain there until all technopathogens are completely dead. This will take millions of years.

That seems like poor planning for such a room.

Or, at least, it would be, if Ambulon was still running the show.

How the fuck has Ambulon survived this long without dying of stupidity?

As Ratchet starts trying to get Pharma out of his glass case of emotion, Pipes is starting to not have so much fun on his first-ever field trip.

Yaaay, space adventure!

Ratchet warns Drift not to kill Pipes- repeatedly- and Drift manages to do that, though it looks a little dodgy for a second, as he bonks the little guy on the head and knocks him out. Ratchet’s managed to get Pharma out, and Pharma immediately runs for the prison cells, saying he’s figured it out.

Ambulon carries what’s left of Pipes back to the emergency ward, and Ratchet holds the little dude’s hand while they get him hooked up to some feeds. Drift starts bleeding from the eyes. Awesome.

Enter Pharma.

Today just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

Turns out those two Decepticons from earlier got out of their cells somehow, and they’ve got guns. Things aren’t looking too good for the Autobots.

Well, I mean, if he says it’s fine, then I guess…

Yep, our mystery patient is none other than Fortress Maximus, warden of Garrus 9, victim of Overlord, and glorified lock-pick for the Aequitas chamber. He’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got some limbs attached to that torso of his, and also eyeballs. Good for him.

[chillax-kass-w]

After All | M19

[Reiner Braun/Reader]

Happiness seems impossible for Reiner, but he may get there after all.

Read on AO3

[As a note, the format of this story is as follows: chapters actually titled “Chapter _” are current to the Marley Arc, chapters titled “M_” are Reiner’s memories in succession, and chapters titled “RM_” are the Reader’s memories in succession]

Previous

Sunlight was filtering through the leaves, and he knew. He knew (f/n) would love these trees. She’d scale them up and down and wonder what their story was. She’d write that story; she’d tell it to him. She’d always been curious like that. He could just imagine her smiling at the adventure ahead of them; he could just see the golden sun in her hair, the life in her eyes.

“Hey, Reiner, got any water?”

His imagination halted at Ymir’s question. “Sorry, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do, even if it is a matter of life and death.” Now that she mentioned it, he was parched. He wondered when they’d get back to the Walls for some much needed rest.

“You’re right about that. This whole thing is bullshit.”

“Speaking of which, we’ve been working our asses off. No food, no sleep, no nothing. Ever since those Titans showed up. That was yesterday, right?” He sighed. “Man, we’re lucky the Wall hasn’t been destroyed. Still,” he held his hand to his head, “you’d think that meant they’d give us a break. And don’t even get me started on promotion…”

“Reiner.” He looked to Bertholdt; his eyes were wide.

“What? Aw, come on, I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Do you?” He chuckled. “No, I think we’ve done enough work to deserve consideration. It’s not easy to act in a situation as messed up as this one. As a soldier, I don’t see what’s wrong with being commended and rewarded for that… It’s just nice to be acknowledged.”

“Mister Reiner, what in the hell are you going on about?” Ymir had an incredulous smile on her face. What was that for?

“What do you mean? I’m not saying that I should be immediately promoted to Captain, you know.”

“Uh… That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, by the way, where did you guys get that cannon from? I owe you one for saving my bacon.” He sighed. “And (f/n) injured her hand saving me too. Needed stitches. I hope she’s alright. She—”

“Hey!” He jumped as Eren stood with a shout, and that’s when he noticed the steam billowing from Eren’s arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some kind of joke?”

“What are you mad about, Eren? Was it something I said?” He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t understand.

“If you want me to kill you, just keep talking!”

“Wait, Eren,” Ymir held out her arm. Why was she missing limbs? “Whatever he’s saying, it’s not normal. Isn’t that right, Bertholdt? If there’s something you know, then quit being quiet and do something about it.” Reiner didn’t understand what she could be implying. He looked to his friend for some sort of answer.

“Reiner…” Bertholdt couldn’t meet his eyes. “Snap out of it. You’re not a soldier. We’re Warriors.”

Warriors.

1,820 years ago, our ancestor Ymir Fritz made a deal with the Devil.

She gained power.

The power of the Titans.

Eldia’s ethnic cleansing lasted for about 1,700 years.

The Great Nation of Marley incited a civil war and brought seven of the nine Titans to its side.

The Great Nation of Marley won.

The Great Nation of Marley is merciful to the Eldians.

I will become a Warrior and live with my mother and father as an Honorary Marleyan.

I will become a Warrior and eradicate the Devils within the Walls.

I will become a Warrior.

I will become a Hero.

Eyes shut, he realized. Everything had come together. When had it come apart?

“Marcel! No!”

“Take the blame and die!”

“Reiner’s dead. If you need Marcel, I’ll be Marcel.”

“This is the only way we can go home.”

His mother was waiting; he wouldn’t let her wait long.

Complications like her ruined everything.

He’d take her down and show her how cruel the world really was to devils like her.

He couldn’t trample a smile like that, even on a devil’s face.

No one would question the aim of a person who selflessly helped others.

Keep telling yourself that.

She was a good person.

Person?

“You deserve it, Reiner.”

Friend?

He’d become a good liar.

“Well, we’ll go see it then.”

Another lie.

“All thanks to you.”

“Who am I really?”

All you cause is pain.

He couldn’t change her future, as much as he wanted to.

“It’s your choice, Rein’.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Just do what needs to be done, and keep moving forward.

“Wait, why are you in such a rush?! We haven’t even talked this over!”

“Hey, why is Marco being eaten?”

“It’s not your fault, Reiner. Please, please, don’t blame yourself for things out of your control.”

“Please, Reiner.”

He wanted to forget.

He wanted more.

He understood.

“Look at how beautiful it is, Rein’.”

“They remind me of you… respect, chivalry, clarity of thought…”

He couldn’t afford her.

If only he had the power to douse the flames.

If only…

“I fight for you.”  

“I fight for you too.”

“Reiner… I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you, too.”

“Reiner!”

“No!”

No!

No!

Warriors.

We’re Warriors.

“Right… I see…That’s how things are…” He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could do was hold his head in his hands and cry.

It felt as if he’d seen someone else’s memories. He’d always expected to be in this position, but not then, not his own memories. How had he forgotten? Why did he feel so out of control? Had he ever been in control?

“I think I’m starting to see what’s going on here. I thought something was strange. I mean, why would the man who destroyed the Wall risk his life to save Connie? You were taking contradictory actions, but without being aware of it. I don’t know why that happened, but… You were originally a Warrior whose goal was to destroy the Wall, but you pretended to be a soldier for so long, you could no longer tell which was the real you…” Ymir’s words vexed him, or did they pin him? “No, maybe you couldn’t bear the weight of your sins, so, in order to keep your mind in balance, you unconsciously escaped into a fantasy, convincing yourself you were just a soldier who protected the Wall… That caused your mind to split and altered your memories. Judging by Bertholdt’s dumbfounded expression, this isn’t the first time your stories stopped fitting together…” She laughed in the face of his plight. “And not to mention the ultimate irony, you convinced yourself you were worthy of love. Ha! I wonder what (f/n) is thinking right now. She must be—”

“Shut up!” He couldn’t take it, couldn’t face it. “Don’t say her name.” His blood was boiling with regret and determination, duty and the woes of his life.

“My bad, but isn’t it you who shouldn’t be allowed to say her name? Think about it.” She was right, absolutely right. At the thought, he buried his face further into his cold hands. He didn’t want to be seen.

He didn’t want to be there.

“You have to be kidding me. How can you act like a victim?” I don’t know. “What are you even thinking?” I don’t know, Eren.  “Why did you even listen to what we had to say that day? Tell me, Bertholdt. Don’t you remember what I said? I was right in front of you two. I told you about the time my mother was eaten by a Titan, didn’t I? About how she couldn’t escape because a piece of the gate you kicked down landed right on my house. You know about that, right?” Yes. “I told you, didn’t I?” Yes. “What did you think? What… were you thinking that day?”

“Back then… I felt sorry for you.” How could Bertholdt answer? Reiner’s entire being was withering away.

“Oh… I see… You two… You’re not soldiers… You’re not Warriors… You’re just murderers. You massacred people who’d done nothing wrong! You’re mass murderers!”

“I know that!” Reiner couldn’t take it. His sins were agonizing upon his back, in his chest, around his neck. “I don’t need you to tell me!”

“Then stop acting like responsible citizens worried about the state of the world! You two aren’t even human anymore! You’re the ones who turned this world into a living hell! Don’t you see that, you murderers?!”

Yes, he could see. He could see very clearly now.

A l l  y o u  c a u s e  i s  p a i n.

“So what do you want these murderers to do?! Do you want us to repent?! Do you want us to apologize?! Are you really going to preach to a couple of cold blooded murderers about how killing is wrong?! Will that satisfy you?! The Reiner and Bertholdt you know are gone! And if all you want to do is cry about it, then go ahead! Keep crying!”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to go home.

“You’re right.” Eren’s voice was cold. “Who am I? What do I know? Still, all I can do now… is work. Work hard… to make sure that you two die the most excruciating death possible.”

How could Reiner feel fear when he felt so numb?

“You can’t be for real. Eren, I’m begging you, I can’t put my faith in you if you keep talking like some stupid kid.”

“Like what…?”

“I’m saying there’s no way I’m going along with someone worried about petty little things like that.” She paused. “Hey, Reiner. What was that beast?”

His eyes widened. He didn’t want to talk about that.

He didn’t want to talk about anything.

“Beast? What’re you talking about?”

“Huh, you don’t know? Funny, considering that your eyes were beaming like you were kids when you saw it earlier.”

Eren was confused. “What ‘beast’?”

Ymir shook her head. “Just listen. That Beast Titan is the cause of this recent mess. It was what made Titans appear inside the Walls. Maybe it was testing our strength?” How did she know? “You two are trying to get to it, because, if you do, you’ll be able to go back to your home town, right?”

Before he could even piece together a response, Eren shouted again. “Tell me everything you know!”

“Be patient. I’m caught up in circumstances of my own. But listen, Eren. If you think that everything will be settled if you take care of these two… Then, you’re dead wrong.”

“Then who’s our enemy?!”

If only he knew.

“Our enemy? Well, if I had to say, then it’d be—”

“Ymir!” He couldn’t let her tell Eren. He couldn’t let her go. She was the one who’d ruined their mission to begin with. She had to return home with them. If not...  “Do you think this world has a future?” He paused, piecing his argument together. “If you know that much about what’s going on, then think about your plans. Surely you can consider coming over to our side.”

“And trust you? Fat chance! You can’t trust me.”

“No, I can trust you. Your goal is to protect Krista, isn’t it?” Even in his fractured state of mind, he knew how to get to her. That much was obvious, especially with the look in her eyes. “Based on our situation, can you not imagine we can help her in some way? Or… Do you think Eren’s strength is more reliable than ours?”

“What?!”

Despite Eren’s shout, he knew he’d convinced at least some part of Ymir. She was glaring at Eren, presumably sizing him up. “You were thinking of using Eren to escape from here, probably because you thought you had no chance if you let us take you.” She didn’t, but truth was strong in times of negotiation. “To be honest with you, that’s exactly right. And even if you did join us, we wouldn’t be able to guarantee your safety. But, if we’re just talking about Krista… Together, we might be able to make something work. Your tiny little life… or Krista’s future: it’s your choice.”

He was basing this off of his own deduction. Annie had learned much about the aristocratic families, enough to know there was an illegitimate child out in the world. Ymir had told Krista to live for herself, suggesting she had never done so before. And, to top off the theory, Krista had revealed her true name was Historia. That was a noble name if he’d ever heard one.

“Hey, so who’s our real enemy?!”

“Who knows…?” With those words, he knew he’d bought her silence and support.

If only he could buy (f/n)’s safety…

“Reiner,” Bertholdt met him upon his branch, “are we really going to trust Ymir? Her Titan is small, but it was fast. If we don’t restrain her, she could take us out in moments… She… really is the one who ate Marcel, remember?”

How could he forget? That moment was cemented in his mind, his first monumental mistake. He’d let his focus drop for but a moment, and Marcel had saved him. Marcel was devoured by a Titan with long hair and black eyes. There was no second guessing the facts, at least for this memory. There was no disputing the identity of Ymir’s Titan. Her claws and sharp fangs couldn’t belong to any ther than the Jaws.

What if… he’d have been the one devoured that day?

“That’s right. But that’s exactly why her position is clear. She finally became human again. She probably wanted to wander, thinking of only her own survival… That is, until she met Krista. She found someone she valued more than herself, someone so dear that she’d jump into a swarm of Titans for her.”

He’d found that someone too…

“Reiner.” Bertholdt grabbed his shoulder; it brought him back to the moment, but he wouldn’t let it show. “What are you right now?”

No one.

“I’m a Warrior. Don’t worry. I have more reasons for bringing Krista with us than her just being cute. Did you forget? Annie tailed those guys who were loitering around the Training Grounds to see what they were up to. They came to observe Krista from the Church of the Wall, that group that knows what’s inside the Walls. Krista’s an important figure in a Wallist family. In other words, if the Coordinate we’re looking for isn’t Eren, then our mission won’t be over yet. If that happens and we have Krista, it should make the search much easier than it is now.”

“Yeah, let’s put an end to this. Next time we come here, we’ll be able to bring Annie, Krista, and that back to our hometown. And… that will be the last time we ever come here.”

Why did those words hurt so much?

Why couldn’t he use rationale to bring her home?

Why had this happened?

“Yeah, all our duties will be complete.”

His heart wouldn’t be.

But, Bertholdt’s…

He stopped him. “But, Bertholdt, tell Annie how you feel once we get to our hometown.”

If only…

“What?!”

“You stare at her too much! Enough that anyone paying attention would notice.”

“No, I—”

...he could do the same…

“Aw, who cares?” He crossed his arms. “You’re both murderers with little time left, right? Who else but one of us could understand the situation we’re in?”

Could she…?

Then, a sound met his ears. It was so familiar…

He glanced behind him, and there he found something he hadn’t quite factored into their equation.

Green smoke signals…

“Bertholdt.”

“The Survey Corps? Already?”

He readied his triggers. They had to move. “They shouldn’t be able to put together a scouting formation without moving a lot of horses over the Wall. I didn’t think they’d be able to act this quickly… Damn it. Commander Erwin might be with them.” Without a second thought, he shot an anchor above Eren. “We��re up against a tough bunch.”

He should know.

“Huh? What is it, Reiner?! It’s not night yet!”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re heading out now.”

He had to be level-headed. Bertholdt was counting on him. Annie was counting on him. Zeke was counting on him. His mother was counting on him. The entire Nation of Marley was counting on him. What were his emotions in the grand scheme of things? What was he in the grand scheme of things?

A Warrior.

There was a world waiting for his next move. The weight was on his shoulders; he could feel it. And, as he stepped toward Eren, he met his rival head on. “Eren, don’t be stupid and put up a fight.”

Eren laughed; it was forced. “Hey, you don’t need to act so tough. Look at me!” His arms were still healing from being severed, but Reiner knew better than to trust that. “There’s no way I could possibly fight back. Come on...” Reiner knew better.

So why did he let Eren attack him like that?

He was thrown on his back from the force, and Eren was above him, smashing his unformed arms relentlessly into Reiner’s head. He took it for a bit, allowed Eren to tell him to die, even considered it. But then, he found his resolve again. He kicked his former friend to the side, and, when he tried to get back up, he wrapped his forearm around Eren’s throat.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll rip you apart!”

Just one squeeze, and he could kill him.

No, he needed him alive.

As he added pressure to Eren’s throat, he wondered just how it’d come to this. Why did the world have to be so cruel? Why had he been born in this position? Why were the Walls filled with people? Why had she been born inside the Walls?

At this point, he just had to accept it.

So, as Eren’s consciousness faded into nothing, he finally allowed his mind to settle on one thing: getting back home. That’d been his mission all along. That was all he’d ever wanted. Why had he forgotten that? Why hadn’t he stayed the course?

This was all his doing. He had to be the one to fix his mistakes.

As Bertholdt tied Eren to his back, Reiner planned his next course of action. The Survey Corps was too close for comfort, as were the Titans. Bertholdt had to carry Ymir on his back as well, so their mobility was limited. The situation just wasn’t in their favor.

Once Ymir was situated, Reiner and Bertholdt shot into the trees, and the Titans below followed. He gritted his teeth. “For now, we need to head somewhere with no Titans. Stay as far away from them as possible. I still haven’t recovered, and my Titan moves slow, so if we get surrounded, I won’t be able to protect both of us.”

“Then why the hell didn’t we wait ‘til night?!” Ymir shouted over the passing wind. “Oh… Signal flares?! So the Survey Corps came to save us?!”

Looking over his shoulder, he groaned. “Damn it, they’re already close. This is all because Eren got violent.” They had to get to the other side of the Titan Forest, and quickly. They were low on gas as it was, but, if they could just outrun the Titans, he could transform. It was open ground from there. They’d have the advantage.

“Reiner! It’s Krista!”

“What?”

“Krista’s with them! Now’s our chance to grab her!”

That wasn’t part of the plan. “You’re full of it! No way you can see that far!”

“I know she’s with them!” Ymir’s voice was desperate, demanding. “That idiot is too kind-hearted for her own good! She came to rescue me!”

That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Even if that’s true, we can’t go now!” He turned forward again, toward the mission. “We’ll get another chance!”

“What?!”

“We can’t grab her the way things are now! There’s no way to bust up that formation! Wait for our chance!”

“‘Wait for our chance’?! When’s that going to be?! After one of your Warrior pals eats me?! No! I can’t trust you!”

“Trust me! I’m not lying when I say we need Krista too!”

Just trust me!

“Prove it then! Prove it to me, right now! I need it to be now ! I want it to be now… At this rate, I’ll never see her again!”

At that, Reiner fell silent. His mission was in his eyes, but his heart…

I’ll never see her again…

“We can’t.” It was Bertholdt who answered, calm and collected. “Right now, we don’t even know if we can escape safely ourselves.”

He had to assure someone that a life would be saved, even if it wasn’t the one he truly wanted.

“I promise you! We’ll save her, I swear it!”

She was silent for a time. Then, as they continued their flight, she shouted, “I’m the strongest one here in this terrain.”

Reiner turned to find her grabbing at Bertholdt’s face, covering his eyes. “Ymir!”

“Ymir, stop!”

“Shut the hell up and think for a second! I’d be able to dominate this terrain, don’t you think?”

Bertholdt’s next anchor barely hit its mark. “Ymir, stop, we’ll fall!”

“That’s fine with me. My Titan might not be as strong as yours, but I can move quickly through the trees. I could grab Eren and rendezvous with the Scouts before you even knew what hit you. Wouldn’t be that hard.” At her threat, Reiner found his footing on the next tree he anchored to and stopped. They couldn’t risk it. “If you don’t take Krista right now, I’ll make a nuisance of myself here.”

Why couldn’t she just go along with the plan?

“Are you completely insane?! We won’t be able to save her that way! All because of your selfishness! I thought that you genuinely cared!”

“I do, in my way. Even if it means robbing her of her future, I want to survive and see her again. As a person, I’m really lower than shit… But she knows that, and she smiles at me anyway. You two don’t know what that’s like, do you?”

He did…

“Damnit!”

“Don’t be mad. I’ve thought this through. If I fight here, it’ll make it easier for you to escape! Or,” she glared at Bertholdt, fire in her eyes, “we could always tear each other apart instead! You think I’m nuts?! Then try me and find out!”

They couldn’t risk fighting here and now. If they did, the Corps would catch up, and they’d be too exhausted to fight them or even run away at that point. Ymir was right; she had the upper hand in this situation.

Damnit…

“Fine! We’ll keep heading to the edge of the forest! You better follow through, Ymir!”

“I will!”

With that, she let go of Bertholdt, falling behind them into a burst of lightning. The plan seemed to fall with her.

Even so, Reiner had to push forward. They still had Eren. He was more than enough, but the Jaw Titan was a priority too. He had to retrieve it. It was his own idiocy that caused them to lose it. It was all him. If he couldn’t bring it back to Marley, he was an absolute failure.

He already felt like one.

The edge of the forest was soaring into view. Their future was somewhere on the other side. As they switched positions in holding Eren, he all but held his breath. If Ymir didn’t come, what was the course of action? If—

“She’s here, Reiner!”

There she was. If she’d returned to them, that meant she’d succeeded in nabbing Krista. Somehow, the plan was working. Somehow, it didn’t seem all for naught.

“Good.”

So, just as he had so many times before, he held a knife in hand, and he jumped from the trees. It was all muscle memory from there. He eyed his hand as the blood trailed into light, and he wondered what the pain really felt like. He’d never felt it. The wound always closed as soon as he transformed.

(f/n) had felt it...

Lightning.

Ymir and Bertholdt latched onto his shoulders, and he ran. He ran, like he had the day they’d come there. He ran like he had, with Bertholdt and Annie on his shoulders. He ran, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Open sky, open land awaited his feet. He was finally free.

Why did it feel as if that wasn’t the case?

Upon his shoulder, he heard a cough. Krista must have woken up.

“Ymir!”

“Krista… No, Historia.” Ymir must have exited her Titan. “I’m sorry I ate you out of nowhere. You must be mad, right?”

Left, right, left, right…

“What is this? What’s going on? We came to rescue you and Ere—”

“You don’t need to rescue me! Things have changed! I’m with Reiner and Bertholdt now. Like it or not, you’re coming with us! There’s no future inside the Walls! Hear me out for a second, okay? Life outside isn’t as bad as you think. Believe me. There’s no one out here saying the world would be a better place if you’d never been born.”

Think again.

“Yeah?! I don’t think Titans would say much either way! They’d be too busy trying to eat me!”

“We all have our shortcomings, right?! They’re not so bad if you look past that! It’s complicated, alright?!”

“Ymir, I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, but you’re not making any sense! It must be… that Reiner and Bertholdt forced you to do this, right? They threatened you!”

From his other shoulder, he heard Bertholdt voice his own thoughts. “It’s the opposite, actually…”

“I’m right, aren’t I?! Let go! Whatever they’ve got on you, I don’t care! We can fight them! Put the past behind you! What matters is right now! I’m here! I will always be your ally!”

If only…

“Ymir!” Bertholdt. “In case you haven’t noticed, the Scouts are closing in. If we’d left earlier, there might’ve been a decent chance of outrunning them. Going back for Krista was your idea. You forced us. Remember that? Ymir, why? What did we do this for?! Have you changed your mind again? Have you decided to stay inside the Walls with Krista? Don’t be a fool! Think!”

A fool…

“Let go! Don’t listen to him!”

Don’t listen…

“I can’t!” Ymir’s voice was shattering upon the wind. “I wish I could. Historia, I know you think I did this for you. But, at the end of the day, I did it for me. A long time ago, I stole the power of the Titans from one of their comrades. Their power is absolute. Inside or outside the Walls, there’s nowhere for me to run. At this rate, I’m going to be killed… But, they said if I cooperate, hand you over, they’ll speak on my behalf to get my crimes pardoned. It’s because you’re so important to the Wallists, who know the secrets of the Walls… When this world started going to hell… I thought that being with you… would be insurance for the near future… I almost died fighting at the tower… And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was scared of dying. I wanted someone to save me somehow… I lied, and told you I was doing it all for you, but, really… It was all for my own sake. I’m begging you, Historia! Please, please save me!”

Please…

Please, save me…

“Didn’t I just tell you, Ymir? No matter what happens, I’m on your side!”

He was running toward the sun, running toward the blaze, but it didn’t emanate the brilliance he’d always revered. No, that was behind him. She was behind him. He knew. It was inevitable.

Shadows always sail away from the sun, after all.

Then, another familiar sound…

Was that an anchor in his shoulder?

Was that the whir of the 3dmg?

Were they that close already?

Ymir’s scream told him they were.

“Reiner! Protect us!” Bertholdt jumped under his chin, and to shield him, Reiner brought both his hands up to form a cage against his neck. Just in time, for Mikasa slashed at his hardened knuckles only a second too late.

“Mikasa, no! You’re not going to kill Ymir!”

Mikasa was on his head now. “That all depends on her! What’ll it be?! She can step aside or she can die! Her choice!”

“Reiner.”

That voice…

On his right shoulder, next to his ear...

She shouldn’t be here. She’s injured. She shouldn’t be here.

“Reiner, I know you can hear me.”

I can, (f/n).

“Please, tell me this is some sort of misunderstanding. There’s no way…”

It isn’t.

��Tell me, was any of it real? Did you ever truly care about me? Or was it all part of this lie?”

It was real. I care about you. I care about you.

“How many lies did you tell me?”

Too many to count.

“Why…?”

She was crying. Her fists met his cheek; he barely felt them. He barely felt.

If he had it his way, he’d tell her how real it all was. If he had it his way, he’d take her with him. If he had it his way, he’d stay with her until the end of time, until he’d heard everything she knew and everything she didn’t and every wish and every cry a thousand times over. But, it was never fated to go his way. Fate didn’t favor bloodstained hands. He had to accept that. He had to.

He was up to his shoulders in red.

“Why would you do this to me, Reiner?!”

To save the world.

“Why would you hurt so many people?!”

To save the world.

“You’re terrible!”

I am.

“You’re terrible…”

Her voice fell to a whisper. He couldn’t hear anything else. It was only her.

It was always her.

“I guess it’s always been like this. I’ve never gotten any answers from you. You’ve never listened to me. I should’ve known.”

I’ve always listened. I hear you.

“You’re a monster. I cared about you, and you’re a monster.”

You’re right. You’ve always been right.

“None of that matters. Just focus on taking their heads off,” Mikasa’s words reached him. “If you even hesitate for a moment, we’ll never get Eren back. They’re a threat to Humanity. That’s all.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Do you think that anyone wants to kill people?!” Bertholdt voiced his own thoughts, broken and all alone. “What kind of person would do this for fun?! Who would want to do this?! With what we did, of course you despise us and want to kill us! We can never take any of it back! But, we couldn’t come to terms with our sins… When we were pretending to be soldiers, it was a little bit easier. It’s not a lie, (f/n)! Connie! Jean! It’s true that we deceived you, but it wasn’t all lies! We really did think of you as friends! We really did care! I know… we don’t have the right to apologize. But, someone… Please, someone… I’m begging you, someone find us…”

“Bertholdt… Give Eren back.”

“I can’t do that. Someone has to do this. Someone…has to get blood on their hands.”

Someone...

“Everyone, jump off right now!”

She left a void on his shoulder. She left a void.

And Death was coming. Titans, a horde of Titans, were approaching them from ahead. The Commander was leading them straight toward Reiner. There was nowhere to go. The weight of the World was on his shoulders; the weight of his friends’ pain was there too. There was no escaping his sins. There was no escaping the path he’d set out on. All he could do was run, run and hope they’d make it out on the other side.

Just do what needs to be done, and keep moving forward.

With hands latched firmly to his neck, Reiner dipped his shoulder and ran. Just as he’d destroyed the gate those many years before, he rammed through the horde in his path. They kept coming. He kept charging. Ymir was screaming. They were around his neck, biting his head, holding him down. He had to move. Quickly, quickly, he had to move.

He had to get home.

Where could he go? He was surrounded. There was no way to fight with his hands around Bertholdt. There was no way to protect Bertholdt as he fought. What could he do? How many were there? Ten? Twenty?

It wouldn’t matter if they died.

Hold on, Bertholdt.

Just a little longer.

We’re almost there.

He let Bertholdt go, and he swung at the Titans closest to him. He swung, and he swung, and he prayed for safety. He prayed for home.

The Scouts…

They were upon him now. They were after Bertholdt. He had to choose the greatest enemy. He had to choose. He brought his hand up and around his friend.

“We’ve made it this far! We’re taking Eren with us and going back home!”

“Bertholdt!” Armin, upon his neck. “Are you two sure about this? You’re going to go home and leave your friend behind?”

Annie…

“You’re leaving Annie behind? Right now… Annie’s deep underground in Utopia District, to the far north… where they’re torturing her…”

No, no that couldn’t be true.

“As soon as they heard her screams, they realized… The wounds on her body might heal, but she can’t make the pain go away. They’re being careful not to kill her, of course, but they won’t let her rest. At this very moment, they’re inflicting pain on her in every way they know how—”

No, Annie…

“Children of the Devil!” Bertholdt… “I’ll kill every last one of you!”

At Bertholdt’s scream, Reiner looked down. At the sight of the Commander, he knew it was all over. Eren was falling; Eren was in Mikasa’s arms. They’d lost. He reached out to the retreating Survey Corps in a last attempt at recovering the Coordinate, but there was no moving with the Titans surrounding him, suppressing him.

It was over. He wouldn’t be able to last against so many Titans on his own. Bertholdt’s Titan was useless in a retreat. They needed Annie. They needed Marcel.

This was all his fault.

In an act of hopelessness and indignation, he picked up one of the smaller Titans and hurled it at their formation. He didn’t care who he killed. He didn’t care. He was on the brink. He was in a corner. So, he hauled another onto his shoulders, and he threw. If Eren was eaten, all the better. Perhaps the one to inherit his Titan would be less of a maniac. Perhaps, they’d be like Marcel. Then, they could go home.

Home…

With that on his mind, he could move. With that on his mind, he could push through hordes of Titans to his goal. In the face of Death, in the face of failure, he could do anything if home was the goal.

Lightning…

No, that wasn’t lightning. What was that?

Was that… the Coordinate?

What was that scream?

All of the Titans upon his back, all of the Titans begging for his nape, left him. They all ran past him, away, to devour another Titan. It was a Pure Titan. There was no reason for them to target it.

Unless…

Eren had the Coordinate. He could use it. The situation couldn’t be worse. Eren, of all people…

We have to get it back.

The last person in this world who should have that power is you, Eren.

“Stay back, you bastards! I’ll kill all of you!”

Eren’s voice reverberated in his very soul. That lightning was behind his eyes again, and he knew it was over. There was no escaping the horde Eren directed their way. There was no escaping his sins. Eren had promised an excruciating death; this was it. He would be devoured if he didn’t run. He would be devoured if he ran.

Bertholdt… I can’t keep him safe!

Bertholdt was screaming. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing.

Nothing…

But then, something so inexplicable happened.

Ymir came back.Ymir saved Bertholdt. Ymir fought the Titans along with him. For some reason, she’d chosen them; for some reason, he’d live another day. So, he ran. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore. He ran until his mind was numb. He ran until Ymir had to take over. And she ran until they were atop Wall Maria, the same Wall they’d destroyed those many years ago.

And, as they caught the breath they hadn’t anticipated in their lungs, he found only one question upon his lips.

“Ymir, why did you come back for us?”

“Well… Must be because I’m an idiot.” They didn’t laugh. “I’m here so you’ll have something to hand over. You guys can’t go home empty handed, right?”

He couldn’t believe it. “Do you understand there’s no hope of you being rescued if we go home from here? If you’re going to run… Now’s the time.”

“What’re you talking about, dumbass? I’m tired out. I’ve just had enough. I’m done.” In that moment, he had to agree. He felt done. Done with the hand he’d been dealt; done with the world; done with life.

“Ymir, why did you rescue me?” It seemed Bertholdt didn’t believe it either.

“Maybe because I heard your voice… If you hadn’t come to destroy this Wall, I would’ve been stuck in an endless nightmare. All I did was repay a debt. I’m the only one who knows about your situation, too… I’m the same way… I was hopeless on my own.” She reached toward the sky. The gesture pained him. He’d seen another hand reach for the stars so many times.

“Thank you, Ymir… I’m sorry.” Bertholdt was crying. If Reiner didn’t feel absolutely void, he would be as well.

“It’s fine… Being a goddess doesn’t feel so bad, either.”

He didn’t know about that.

But, something stuck with him. She’d said she would have been in an endless nightmare if they hadn't come to destroy the Wall. As he watched the stars parade across the sky, he had to agree, at least in some respect. If he’d never come there, he never would have experienced life. He never would have experienced friendship. He never would’ve experienced love. Within the Walls, he’d found a love for the World he’d never known. He’d wished for forever. He’d wished for a future. He’d planned a future. He’d found love.

He’d found (f/n).

She was everything he’d wanted. She was everything he’d known. She was everything he was never meant to know.

But, now, he realized that that destruction was a double edged sword. That destruction had led him to his present moment. That destruction had initiated his own endless nightmare, and there was no deliverance.

You deserve it, Reiner.

Next

[somerandr]

royalty

Maddie lets out another dramatic sigh, huffing a little when Sophie and Jack both ignore her in favor of oohing and ahhing over the stories Lizzie has begun meticulously typing out and collecting in a leather bound binder. On one hand, Maddie gets their distraction. Her brother-in-law had never quite seen Lizzie the same way Maddie does, always knowing her as the big sister he couldn’t ever really relate to, the big sister he tended to see more as a parental figure than a sibling, creating an insurmountable distance between them. And her best friend just likes to be annoying—a talent of hers since they were in middle school. 

On the other hand, Maddie has something to get off her chest and, dammit, she needs Sophie and Jack to pay attention. 

She sighs again, louder this time, placing her mug of coffee on the table with a little more force than strictly necessary. It has its desired effect: Sophie looks up in concern, clearly thinking Maddie has dropped the mug, and Jack moves as if to act as Maddie’s support beam. 

(The first few weeks of this sort of behavior from her best friend and her brother-in-law had been frustrating and grated on her nerves. But now she appreciates that they’re here, sitting with her, acting as de facto babysitters while Lizzie is out.

To be perfectly honest, Maddie appreciates not being alone.) 

“What’s up, Maddie Bear?” Sophie asks, head tilted to the side as she closes the binder with a satisfying thump. “Annoyed we’re more interested in the stories than you?”

“First of all, as if anything could be more interesting than me,” Maddie says with a faux self-aggrandizing air. “Secondly, don’t call me that. We’re not in high school anymore.”

“It’s always like high school when I’m with you, Mads,” Sophie sings, shoving Jack aside and wrapping her arms around Maddie’s shoulders, giving her an awkward hug from the side. “But seriously, what’s up?” 

Now that Sophie and Jack are looking at her patiently, but expectantly, Maddie feels her mouth go dry. She doesn’t want to admit this to them, doesn’t want to show them that it bothers her—and yet, she needs to tell someone or she thinks she’ll combust. 

“Evie called,” she mumbles after several beats, looking down at her hands. She feels Sophie drop her arms and pull back, and though she doesn’t look, she knows Sophie and Jack are wearing identical expressions of a mixture of disgust and anger. 

“What’s Evil doing calling you?” Sophie hisses, and when Maddie looks up at her, her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, lips pressed into a thin line. Jack, on the other hand, looks like he’s turned to stone, unable to move at all. 

“Apparently, she heard the news about me. Wanted to make sure she um, expressed her sadness,” Maddie mumbles, using air quotes around the latter part of her comment, still thinking about the sickly-sweet voice of Evie Cummings and how much she wishes she could have reached through the phone and punched Evie in her perfectly made up face. “She told me I didn’t need to worry about Elizabeth.” 

(This is what’s got her so mad, not the fact that Evie called, but that she figured it would be okay to slowly explain to Maddie that Lizzie would be taken care of, ‘in cough cough, the worst kind of situation.’

Maddie’s not jealous. 

At least, she doesn’t think so.) 

“I don’t understand this whole staying friends with the ex thing,” Jack says, running his fingers through his hair and dropping into the chair next to Maddie, his legs stretched out in front of him as he slouches. He looks a lot like his sister, but his hair is darker, and his manner is more airy. Where Jack is quick with a smile, Lizzie is content to merely quirk her lips. 

(Except for if it’s at her.

Lizzie will always smile at her.)

“I agree,” Sophie says darkly, her eyes narrowed as if she’s already planning something nefarious. “Evil needs to go.” 

“She’s Elizabeth’s friend,” Maddie argues weakly, not quite able to believe her own words. Lizzie had met and dated Evie in what she still calls ‘a dark time’ in her life. The fact that Evie helped her through it—that she had been there through long nights and eased Lizzie through panic attacks—meant that Evie had a permanent place in Lizzie’s life, even if Maddie and Evie had made their mutual dislike of one another well-known. 

“Right,” Jack laughs, flicking his head so that his hair would fall perfectly on his forehead, giving Sophie a wink as she rolls his eyes at his antics. “And you stayed friends with that baseball player, huh Mads? What was his name again?” Jack asks in faux confusion, tapping a finger against his chin. “Darren? Derek? Daniel,” he stresses, flicking his hair again, smiling at Maddie as he stretches out Daniel’s name. 

“It’s different,” Maddie says, waving him off, but Sophie sighs dreamily before shaking her head. 

“And everyday I think it’s just tragic that you didn't keep him around for me. Your best friend. How could you, Maddie Bear?” 

Maddie blushes, glaring at Sophie and Jack as they chuckle at her embarrassment.

“Can we get back to the point?” she asks weakly, two seconds away from banging her head against the kitchen table. She’s sure that won’t go over well with Lizzie; Sophie and Jack would get fired from babysitting duty the second Lizzie notices the bruise. 

“Wasn’t the point that Evie is a she-devil? Because Jack and I are in full agreement on that front,” Sophie says, picking up Maddie’s mug and taking a sip before wincing at the cold, bitter coffee. “You’re really letting yourself go, babe,” she mutters, stalking over to the sink and emptying the coffee out. “Drinking bitter coffee and letting yourself become more bitter over the she-devil?” She turns and leans against the counter, arms crossed over her chest and Maddie’s mug hanging from the handle on her index finger. “It’s not like you.”

“Well, a lot of things aren’t like me. Like not going to work and spending all day watching daytime dramas. I don’t even like daytime dramas.”

“Don’t knock it, Mads,” Jack says, hand over his heart. “I for one am very invested in the bold and the beautiful—after all, I’m both bold and beautiful, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Maddie laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re a regular Prince Charming, Jack.” 

“I’m gone for half a day and I come back to you flirting with my brother?” comes a voice down the hall and the sound of keys being tossed into a bowl, announcing Lizzie’s arrival. “What has the world come to?” she asks as she steps into view, first pressing a quick kiss to Maddie’s lips before hugging Sophie and Jack. 

“I admit it,” Maddie jokes, grinning when Hamlet gets off his bed, stretches, and pads slowly over, sticking his head in Maddie’s lap. “It was a surprise to me too.”

“Surprise?” Jack exclaims, mouth dropping open. “Madeline, you and I were always meant to be.” 

“You’re right, if only you were four years older and less beautiful. It could’ve been a match made in heaven.” 

“Way to aim for a man’s heart, Mads,” Jack sighs, keeping a stoic expression even as Sophie chortles away. Lizzie shrugs off her jacket and tosses it into Jack’s face.

“Stop flirting with my wife, dork,” she says, eyes narrowed. “And Maddie, stop encouraging him.” 

“Oh, but we’re meant to be, Liz,” Maddie laughs, “would you really get in the way of love?” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Pick on me, that’s fine,” Lizzie mutters, unable to help the smile that forms on her lips. 

(It’s a startlingly normal moment. Maddie and Jack are teasing Lizzie like always. Sophie makes sure to throw in her own joke like always. 

It’s almost easy to forget that Sophie’s hands are shaking as she pours Maddie a fresh cup of coffee, that Jack never strays too far when Maddie gets up to grab Hamlet a snack, that Lizzie watches apprehensively—as if waiting for something, a shoe to drop.

It’s a normal moment. And Maddie breathes it in, wants to keep it as long as possible.

It’s likely why she speaks up.) 

“I have a story,” she announces to the others, feeling a little shaky on her feet, not minding when Jack subtly takes her by the elbow and leads her back to the table. “Want to hear it?” 

“I do, but I better be in this one,” Sophie says, raising her eyebrows. 

“I was promised dinner, so I’m in,” Jack adds with a shrug. “I’m not going anywhere till I’ve been fed.” 

Lizzie helps Maddie sit down, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. 

“I want to hear everything you have to say, Madeline,” she says softly, eyes crinkling as she smiles. 

And in that moment, Maddie feels a little bit warmer as she looks at her friends, and swears she falls just a bit more in love with her wife. 

XxX

She’s busy polishing boots when she hears stomping from the stairs and Ser Evie enters the armory with her hair pointing in every direction, sweat beading on her forehead, and her chest heaving. 

“Prince Jack has fallen in love!” she cries excitedly, shoving past Maddie roughly, and grabbing Ser Fredericks by the shoulders and shaking him. “Do you know what this means?” 

“Weeks of celebration with lots and lots of mead?” Fredericks says hopefully, shifting in his chair. Maddie doesn’t think she’s ever actually seen him get off the chair, though she’s heard the stories of his incredible, heroic past—how he was born a peasant but was knighted because he saved the King’s life, how at only eighteen, he’d led the King’s army into glorious battle and emerged victorious. No one mentions that at a certain point war and rank seemed to pale in comparison to a good bottle of mead. 

Though, as an overworked, underappreciated squire, Maddie can see the appeal of a good bottle of mead. 

“Stop fooling around,” Evie snaps at Fredericks, glaring at him as he shifts again in his chair, clearly feeling off-balanced. “This is serious.”

Fredericks doesn’t look very serious—in fact, he seems terribly amused.

“And why is that exactly, Ser Evie?” he asks, stroking his beard. Maddie nearly gags when he finds some pheasant still stuck in it from lunch and pops it into his mouth with a giddy expression. “Is it because you think with Jack out of the way you can finally win Princess Elizabeth’s heart?” He laughs heartily at his own joke, clearly finding himself outrageously humorous. “Somehow I doubt Prince Jack will cease being a protective younger brother just because he’s fallen in love.”  

“He’s distracted,” Evie huffs, tossing her cloak in Maddie’s general direction, followed by her boots and arm braces, not looking to see the spectacular balancing act Maddie pulls off in order to catch all the items. Maddie’s so busy congratulating herself on not looking stupid that she doesn’t notice the sword and scabbard coming her way—the hilt of the sword rams hard into Maddie’s hip, the shock of pain causing her to drop the items in her arms, and she curses under her breath as both Evie and Fredericks deign to look over at her, the former with disgust and the latter with poorly concealed mirth. “Can you carry out your duties in a more silent manner?” Evie snaps, giving Maddie a glare for good measure before turning her attention back to Fredericks. “My point is that Elizabeth will have more time to herself—time she could be spending with me, a knight of her father’s court.” 

“Princess Elizabeth,” Maddie mumbles as she gathers Evie’s things once more. She leaves the armory just as Evie launches into the story the other knights and squires have heard hundreds of times before: Evie was there for Elizabeth after the Queen died, Evie soothed Elizabeth’s fears and wiped away her tears, Evie was the one who got her to smile again.

It’s the reason she was knighted—the King had taken one look at the smile on Elizabeth’s lips, a smile that had not graced the kingdom for two winters, and had immediately proclaimed that the one who elicited it was to be rewarded in any which way they chose. Evie chose knighthood, “to better serve the kingdom and the Princess” and of course, it had been the talk of court for months. 

Elizabeth and her knight in shining armor, Evie, are meant to be—everyone knows it, from the cooks to the handmaidens to the measly squire who huffs her hair out of her eyes as she lugs Evie’s things to her quarters. 

Maddie doesn’t know the princess, doesn’t care to know her, but she feels a bit sorry for her. After all, Maddie wouldn’t wish Evie on her worst enemy, let alone the well-loved princess. 

“You look like you’re about to topple over,” Ser Sophie says, falling into step next to Maddie, grinning as she walks, one hand on the pommel of her sword, the other hidden beneath her cloak. 

“You could always help,” Maddie points out, and though Sophie makes a big show of struggling and huffing, she does eventually grab the sword that’s slipping out of Maddie’s hands. 

“You’re in a worse mood than usual,” Sophie says conversationally as they cross the courtyard, Evie’s sword scabbard dragging along the ground between them, Sophie clearly not caring about her fellow knight’s property, “does this mean Ser Evie has already bragged about her plans to woo the good Princess?” 

“In detail, unfortunately,” Maddie says, grinning when that gets a loud laugh from Sophie. 

(She’s always liked Sophie—liked the humor, liked the long, dark hair that’s always braided, liked the fact that she’s always cool under pressure, and the fact that her nose is slightly crooked from the time Fredericks accidentally broke it, liked the fact that even on a day as warm as this one, Sophie seems unaffected and comfortable in her chainmail and leather.  

She especially likes the fact that Sophie has been kind, from the day they met, expecting absolutely nothing in return.) 

“How about I cheer you up and buy you a few drinks at the tavern when you’re done polishing Evie’s boots?” 

“You only want me there because I keep you out of trouble,” Maddie says with a roll of her eyes. “And if I polish Evie’s boots any more than I have, she’ll give Narcissus a run for his money.”

“Don’t be so bitter, Madeline. Look on the bright side, if Evie marries the good Princess, she’ll be out of our hair forever. And you may finally be knighted.” She emphasizes her point with a pat on Maddie’s shoulder, but she underestimates her own strength and the weight of her armor, because the pat nearly sends Maddie sprawling to the ground. 

“That’s a good point,” Maddie muses as she pulls herself up. “Though I don’t need to be knighted, I’ll be happy with just not seeing Evie every single day.” They finally reach Evie’s quarters as she finishes her comment, and she misses Sophie’s contemplative look as she throws the door open and lugs Evie’s things into her room, setting them up for the following morning when Maddie would have to get up at the crack of dawn to help Evie get dressed. 

“Come on,” Sophie says cheerfully as Maddie takes one last look at Evie’s quarters, wanting to make sure nothing is out of place, “I owe you a drink.” 

“You owe me more than one,” Maddie says with a laugh, dodging the lighthearted punch Sophie sends her way. 

“Let’s go, O Brave Squire. You’ve earned yourself a break.”

x

They don’t get their break.

By the time they make their way to the nearest tavern, Sophie is summoned to the palace “on urgent business” along with every other knight and squire within fifty miles of the palace. Left with nothing to do with herself, Maddie pulls her cloak tighter around herself, dons the hood, and sets out for beyond the city walls. 

Before becoming a squire, she rarely spent any time at all outside the city walls, she had no reason to. Everything she wanted, her family, her home, her friends, were within the safety of the city, nestled right outside the sprawling palace grounds. But then the sickness came, everything she loved was lost (gone, along with the Queen), and Maddie became a squire and took to hiding out in the woods beyond the city.

For a moment to breathe. For a break, for a chance to lay on her back and stare up at the sky and dream of leaving and never looking back.

It’s become somewhat of a habit now. Any free moment, any moment that was hers and hers entirely, she drops everything, pulls up the hood of her cloak, and disappears into the trees. Always, it’s very quiet and still, giving her a chance to complain under her breath about Evie, not worrying about being overheard. 

(It’s the solitude, she thinks. She just craves it. 

She’s almost glad of the urgent business that allows her to do this instead of spending the night at the tavern.) 

And for a moment, barely a second or two really, she gets that silence and solitude she so craves, before she’s rudely interrupted by a grunt, a mumbled curse, and then a heavy sigh. Maddie pulls out the dagger she hides at her belt, presses her back against the nearest tree, and peers towards the source of the sound, the ragged breathing, the fairly aggressive footsteps.

“Come on, Hamlet,” says a surprisingly gentle and pretty voice, though its owner is clearly harried and stressed, “we need to go.”

Maddie takes a small step, making sure to still have her back against the tree, and she cranes her head. Several feet away, only partially obscured by the trees, is a girl. Not any girl, but the most beautiful girl Maddie has ever set eyes on: her long blonde hair almost looks white in the moonlight, her lips curved into a tiny smile despite the furrow of her brow every time she’s unable to tug Hamlet—a massive, black horse—any further. 

Maddie doesn’t need the royal insignia on the horse’s saddle or the beautiful, expensive dress the girl is wearing to immediately recognize exactly who has stumbled in on her moment of peace and quiet.

The Princess, Elizabeth herself. 

(Now, Maddie is nothing but a lowly squire, but she’s been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the princess thrice before. First, soon after she became a squire, she’d quite literally run into the princess, both of them tumbling to the ground. She’d gotten quite an earful from Evie that day, and soon after, Evie was knighted. The second time, it was from a distance during the ceremony knighting the newest members of the King’s court. And the last time was merely weeks ago, from across the courtyard, somehow managing to earn a tiny smile and a small wave before Princess Elizabeth was swept away by one of her attendants. 

Every time, seeing the princess in person had been heart stopping. This time is no different.)

Without really thinking about it, Maddie slides her knife back in its sheath then puts her hands up in a non-threatening gesture, and approaches the princess. 

“I’m so sorry—” Maddie tries, immediately cut off by the neighing of the horse, who then pulls back on its hind legs, shocking the princess into letting go of the reins. 

What happens next goes by so quickly that Maddie would later be sure she’d hallucinated the whole thing. One minute, the princess looks up at her horse in horror, clearly sure she’s about to be trampled, and the next, Maddie has tackled the princess to the ground, rolling them a safe distance away, ending up straddling the other girl, arms braced on either side of her head.

“Are you all right?”

“Get off me,” the princess shouts, managing to land a remarkably precise blow onto Maddie’s face as they scramble about. She stumbles off the princess, tasting blood, but ignores the pain radiating from the right side of her face and instead stumbles over to the horse, urging it to calm down.

“I’m so sorry,” Maddie says as Hamlet lets out an aggressive breath, but allows Maddie to rub his neck. “I didn’t mean to frighten either one of you.” She turns to look at the princess, making sure to keep her eyes averted. “I’m so sorry for knocking you down, Princess.” 

She chances a single look at the princess’ face, watching as she casts her eyes up and down, pausing briefly on the insignia on her bag. 

“You’re from the palace,” the princess finally says, a bit tonelessly, as she gets to her feet and shakes off the leaves stuck to her dress and hair. “You’re new. But you found me rather quickly, so you must not be useless. What’s your name, knight?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

This makes the princess blink and even share a look with her horse, shockingly enough letting out whinny and shaking its head—as if it is disappointed with Maddie. “You don’t know what names are?”

“I think you’ve got it wrong, Princess,” Maddie says quickly, finally catching on to the fact that there’s quite a bit going on in the palace she’s clearly not privy to. “I’m not a knight. I’m just a squire. And I, um, wasn’t looking for you. In fact, technically, you found me.” 

The princess eyes her suspiciously. “You’re not a knight?” she questions, as if she doesn’t really want to believe it.

“No, Princess.”

“And you weren’t sent by my brother to look for me?”

“No, Princess. I didn’t know you were even in need of finding.” 

“So if I just...got on Hamlet and left. You’d what? Let me?”

It’s Maddie’s turn to blink. “It’s not really my place to let you do anything, Princess. I wouldn’t try to stop you, if that’s what you’re asking. If anything, I’d just follow you.”

“Follow me?”

“Of course, your highness. There’s no honor in watching the princess venture out into the woods on her own. I’d accompany you at the very least.” 

This response is not what the princess was expecting, because her eyes widen a bit, and she steps forward, close enough that she tugs the horse’s reins out of Maddie’s hands. “And if I told you I want to leave and never come back? Would you still follow me then?” 

Maddie doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, Princess.” 

“Interesting,” the princess mumbles, head slightly tilted to the side as she studies Maddie. There’s a beat, then she bends a bit at the knees, ducking to catch Maddie’s gaze. “I know you,” she says slowly. “You’re the squire Evie hates so much.” Maddie swallows, unable to speak when the princess’ brown eyes—her beautiful brown eyes—are so focused on her. “Madeline, right?” 

“I’m honored that the princess knows who I am,” Maddie mumbles, breaking eye contact. This, for whatever reason, makes the princess chuckle, and she basically takes Maddie’s breath away when she pats her on the shoulder. 

“Don’t be silly.” She looks like she’s about to say more, but at that moment, they both turn their heads at the sound of pounding hooves and shouts of ‘Princess!’ coming from the distance. “Ah, well. I suppose they’ve found me. Thanks to you, really,” she adds, narrowing her eyes at her horse playfully. She lets the horse press its muzzle to her cheek in an apparent apology, letting out a soft laugh, then tugs on the reins, pulling the horse back in the direction of the palace. She pauses after a few feet, and looks back at Maddie. “I have a feeling we’ll see much more of each other, Madeline,” she says. “So please, stop with all the princess nonsense. It’s just Lizzie to you.” 

She doesn’t wait for a response, which is a good thing. It takes nearly a quarter of an hour before Maddie can even move again, unrooting herself with a tiny smile and a whispered Lizzie. 

x

Soon enough, Maddie becomes rather sure she imagined the whole interaction with the princess. 

Days pass by with no indication she even ran into the jewel of the royal family. No one glares at her accusingly for tackling the princess to the hard forest floor, no one comments on the way she goes about her work for Evie without a single complaint (too full of some sort of rush from the princess’ order to call her Lizzie), no one even mentions the awful black eye Maddie is sporting. 

(In fact, it’s the black eye—and the view of it she gets every time she polishes Evie’s armor—that gives her a bit of hope that she isn’t crazy. The pain is a reminder that, yes, she did meet Elizabeth, and yes, the princess knew her name.)

But, enough days pass that Maddie—deflating all at once—finally begins to accept that she’d gotten her hopes up, had thought there was more to Princess Elizabeth’s ‘we’ll see more of each other’ comment than there actually was, and finds herself accepting she isn’t going to be seeing the princess at all.

And, just as soon as the thought enters her head, she runs into the princess, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

“I’m starting to think this is just how you say hello,” Elizabeth tells her, letting out a laugh as Maddie struggles between wanting to help balance the princess and not wanting to offend her by touching her without permission (again). 

“I’m so sorry, Princess, I—”

“—thought we agreed it was just Lizzie,” Elizabeth finishes for her, raising an eyebrow when Maddie gathers the courage to look straight at her instead of a point above her head. 

“Well, agreed may be somewhat of a stretch,” Maddie says without thinking, horrified when the words register with her brain, her hand coming up and covering her mouth. “Sorry, I just meant—”

“—look. I want you to pretend I’m one of your friends,” Elizabeth says, reaching out and curling her fingers around Maddie’s wrist, tugging her hand away from her mouth. “Then, soon enough, you won’t be pretending.”

Maddie takes in a deep breath, shaking her head. “Are you sure you want to be friends with me, Pri—Lizzie,” she corrects, a little blinded by the grin Elizabeth shoots her at her correction. 

“I think the real question is if you’d even want to be friends with me,” she says after a moment, tugging on Maddie’s hand gently, pulling her towards the palace. “You see, I told my brother about our run in, and he insists on speaking with you.”

“Am I in trouble?” Maddie asks worriedly, swallowing hard as they walk through the entrance hall and towards the throne room. 

(It’s common knowledge that the King is king only in name, that he has been since his wife died years ago. All official business was up to the King, but the day to day managing of the kingdom?

That’s been left to Jack and Elizabeth for as long as Maddie can remember.)

“Trouble? No, I don’t think so,” Elizabeth says, the answer not inspiring much confidence even as she pushes the doors to the throne room wide open. Maddie pauses, unable to help it, her eyes drawn to the red and gold rugs and banners, the ornate table where the royal family took their meals, the massive throne itself—situated on a dais at the very end of the hall. “Come on, Madeline,” Elizabeth tells her softly, shifting her grip from Maddie’s wrist to her elbow, and gently pulling her forward.

Maddie’s heart pounds quickly and loudly in her chest, giving rise to the sudden, stupid thought that she was quite close to passing out in front of the royal family, but before she can voice her fears to Elizabeth, her brother Jack gets up from where he’s seated at the table, making quick strides towards the two of them.

“Ah! My lovely, adventuring sister and her rescuer arrive!”

“Rescuer?” Maddie mumbles.

Elizabeth elbows her a bit, actually winking when Maddie turns to her. “I may have embellished the story about our meeting. Leave the talking to me, yeah?” she adds in a whisper before turning to her brother with a wide smile. “Jack, we agreed you wouldn’t be too effusive with your praise, you’re going to make the poor girl uncomfortable.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re absolutely right,” Jack says, coming to a stop as he reaches them, grabbing Maddie by the shoulder before she has a chance to bow. “None of that, not for you. The woman who saved my sister’s life doesn’t bow to anyone.” 

“Sorry?” Maddie asked, unable to help it. Elizabeth, from over Jack’s shoulder, made a face at Maddie, even going as far as sticking her tongue out.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Madeline,” Elizabeth said, refocusing her brother’s attention on her. “She’s such a joker, pretending she doesn’t remember saving me after Hamlet got spooked by a snake. The way she raced into the woods after us...it was quite brave.”

Maddie, who was there and knows this is not true, keeps her mouth shut, giving Elizabeth and Jack a tight smile when they both turn to her. 

“My sister has tried to run away four times,” Jack tells Maddie slowly, and Maddie mentally corrects him, thinking five times, actually. “It was a relief, to say the least, that this latest...outing...was not planned.” He lets out a sigh, bracing his hands on either side of his waist, tilting his head back. “After your service to our family, the appropriate thing would be to offer you a reward, not ask more of you. But I am busy preparing for my wedding, and Lizzie seems to have taken a liking to you, so I would be grateful if you allow me to delay your knighthood and instead act as a companion for my sister after her traumatic experience.”

“What my little brother means,” Elizabeth says cheerfully, “is that he wants you to babysit me, because he can’t right now.” 

“No,” Jack says, shaking his head and looking at Maddie seriously, as if needing her to believe him. “My sister doesn’t need a babysitter. She’s to be Queen. What she needs is protection from, well, undesirable presences.” 

“He’s talking about Evie,” Elizabeth explains helpfully, confusing Maddie with the lack of argument on her end. It’s almost as if she wants a babysitter. 

Jack turns to his sister, hands in his hair now. “Lizzie, you know she—”

“—I’m really sorry, but is this something I should be privy to? I’m just, you know, a squire.” 

“No, you’re right,” Jack says, as if coming to himself all at once. “The reasons don’t matter. So? Can I count on you?” he asks, waiting for Maddie’s nod before letting out a little sigh of relief. “Good, good. Excellent,” he says, more to himself than to Maddie. 

And later, long after he’s gone, after one of Elizabeth’s handmaidens has shown Maddie her new quarters (right next to the princess’) and laid out new clothes, Elizabeth confesses why she didn’t put up an argument, why she merely went along with Jack’s request, the real reason she wants Maddie around:

“You’re going to help me run away a sixth time.” 

x

Elizabeth lays under the shade of a tree several days later, head pillowed by Maddie’s leg, a book abandoned on her chest.

“We should talk about it,” Maddie says, breaking the silence. It being Elizabeth’s desire to run away and use Maddie to do it, something she’s been mum about since her confession. Instead, she’d busied their days with fitting Maddie in nicer clothes, dragging her to lessons, even having her teach the little she knew about swinging a sword. 

Elizabeth sighs, but she doesn’t move, and Maddie resists the urge to smooth back the princess’ hair, to trace a finger from her brow to her hairline. “I don’t want to be Queen.”

“Then why don’t you just say so?”

“It’s not something you just don’t accept,” she says, and she turns her head, the tip of her nose pressed against Maddie’s knee. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, I thought you said you’d follow me anywhere.”

“Yes, follow you anywhere. But I won’t help you run away if I don’t even know why.”

This makes Elizabeth sit up, book falling onto the grass and opening to a random page, twisting to look at Maddie with narrowed eyes. “You can’t talk like that, you know, I am the princess.”

“You told me to pretend you’re my friend. That’s how I’d talk to my friends,” Maddie informs her, wishing she didn’t miss Elizabeth’s warmth already. To her surprise, this response makes Elizabeth smile. 

“I’d have to get married if I wanted to be Queen. And I don’t want to get married.”

“Why? It’s not as if you’ve got any shortage of suitors.” Maddie sighs as she spots one of them in the distance. “Look. Here comes one now.” She starts to get up, to give Elizabeth privacy, but before she can, there’s a hand on hers, holding on tightly.

“Stay,” Elizabeth requests softly, and Maddie settles back down, powerless to say no, and realizing with a start she doesn’t want to say no. 

(She stays, enduring Evie’s glares and dirty looks.

She stays, knowing Evie will get her payback later.

She stays, and it’s worth it, because Elizabeth has tangled their fingers together, and doesn’t seem keen on letting go any time soon.)

x

“If you run away, where will you go?” Maddie asks several days later.

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Do you think you’ll miss your brother? Your home? Your people?”

“I’ve tried not to think about that.”

“What if you fall in love? Will you marry then and take the crown?”

“I’m not worried about me falling in love, Madeline. My issue is how will I ever know if the person I love loves me for me and not for what they can get from me?”  

“Well,” Maddie jokes, “I guess you could always just ask them to run away with you and see what they say.”

x

As the weeks go on, Maddie learns quite a bit about the princess. 

For one, she never eats breakfast, claiming that she’d rather start her day with several cups of tea. For another, Elizabeth hates the long, flowy dresses that she and the other women of court have to wear, and has—with increasing frequency—donned the pants and billowy shirts that Maddie prefers. But most importantly, Maddie learns that Elizabeth loves the library and spends nearly all her time there. 

And it’s unbearably boring. 

She rocks her chair back, feet on the table, staring at the ceiling with her hands folded over her stomach, dangerously close to dozing off when Elizabeth speaks up.

“I’m not interested in Evie, you know,” she says, shocking Maddie enough that she drops her chair back down too quickly, legs falling to the floor with a thud that sounds impossibly loud in the quiet of the library. 

“Oh,” Maddie says stupidly, not quite sure what else to say. The thing is, it’s complicated.

She likes Elizabeth. Perhaps more than she should, definitely more than is appropriate. She knows, without a doubt, her feelings will not be returned (they can’t be, she’s a squire and Elizabeth is a princess). More importantly, Elizabeth’s feelings for Evie are absolutely none of her business. Except...well, except that Maddie doesn’t dislike many people but she absolutely dislikes Evie and there’s no doubt in her mind that Evie is incredibly wrong for Elizabeth. 

(There is the unhelpful part of her that, head-bowed, quietly suggests maybe there is someone else more— 

More right.)

But again, it’s none of her business.

“My brother doesn’t like her either, don’t worry. But Evie...she was there. She was there when I was—”

“—you don’t have to tell me this.”

“I know. I want to,” Elizabeth says, closing her book with a resounding snap, shifting in her chair enough that they’re staring directly at each other. Maddie tries her best not to let her pleasure at those three words show on her expression, but she thinks, judging by Elizabeth’s smile, she’s not quite successful. “Evie saved me,” she continues, letting out a deep breath. “And ever since then, it’s like...she just wants to keep doing the saving. She wants to swoop in, to be my knight in shining armor.”

“That’s romantic,” Maddie says, not believing it, and hating that she’s defending Evie when all she wants to do is agree with Elizabeth and tell her that Evie isn’t worth her time. 

Elizabeth gives Maddie a look that clearly says she knows exactly what Maddie is thinking. “I don’t want a knight in shining armor, Madeline. I don’t want someone who wants to come and save my day. I just….”

“Just?” Maddie prods, literally on the edge of her seat, waiting for Elizabeth to finish her sentence.

“Perhaps this is silly, but I just want someone who just wants to be. To sit with me in the dry, boring moments. Someone who just wants to be with me. Someone like—” She cuts herself off, clears her throat and shakes her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You and I are running away after all.”

“I haven’t agreed to that, actually,” Maddie says absentmindedly, trying to calm her racing heart. For a moment, just a second, she’d thought Elizabeth was about to...well, it doesn’t matter. 

Elizabeth reaches out, fingers circling around one of Maddie’s wrists. “But if I tried to leave?”

“I’d follow you,” Maddie says easily, with no hesitation at all. “If only to keep you out of trouble.”  

Elizabeth smiles, her eyes soft. “Now see. That’s what I mean.” 

x

The wedding is only days away when Maddie bursts into Elizabeth’s rooms, laden with bags. Her dramatic entrance isn’t quite given the reaction she’s looking for, only causing Elizabeth to look up from the letter she’s writing and eye Maddie with amusement. “Lost, Madeline?” she asks, eyes flicking from Maddie’s face to all the bags. 

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it and thought about it, and I realized...why am I thinking about it at all?” Maddie says, dropping the bags and approaching Elizabeth, dropping to her knees in front of her.

“What are we talking about?”

“You wanting to run away.” Maddie holds out a hand, palm up, trying not to smile when Elizabeth takes it almost immediately. “I kept wanting to know why but it doesn’t matter. If you want to go, you should be able to go. So I made a plan.”

Elizabeth blinks. “You made a plan?” she repeats, almost dazedly.

“I gathered supplies,” she gestures towards the bags, “got Sophie’s help with distracting guards at the gates so no one can warn your brother or the knights, even trained Hamlet not to freak out in the woods—”

“—is that where you’ve been going in the afternoons lately?” Elizabeth interrupts, but Maddie is on a roll.

“So just say the word. If you want to go, we go. I’ve sent letters ahead to friends, so we’ll have someplace to go, or we can just travel and explore. Or if you want to stay, get married to Evie,” here she physically has to keep herself from gagging, “I can help with that too. I can talk with her about being less intense maybe or—”

“—you’re such an idiot, Madeline,” Elizabeth breathes out, and that’s all the warning Maddie gets before Elizabeth is leaning forward, hands cupping Maddie’s face, and kisses her. “The only thing I want,” she says softly as she pulls away, and Maddie is quite shocked she’s still able to speak when she’s just taken Maddie’s breath away, “is you. Wasn’t that obvious?”

“It is now,” Maddie manages to say, and this time, she’s the one who closes the distance between them, bags and plans and thoughts of running away all forgotten. 

XxX

“And in the end,” Maddie finishes, gesticulating wildly with her hands, “the princess marries the squire and doesn’t spare the dumb knight a single thought ever again.” 

Silence follows her words, Lizzie’s hand rubbing a gentle pattern into her back while Sophie and Jack merely blink at her for a moment.

“That was fantastic,” Jack finally says, struggling not to smile. “I’m actually a little shocked Evie didn’t find herself stuck in a well or something for all time, cursed forever.”

“That’s the sequel,” Maddie says, allowing Lizzie to burrow her face into her neck, running her fingers through her wife’s hair. “Part two coming soon.”

Sophie lets out a loud snort, getting to her feet and stretching. “Well, I think it’s adorable that the two of you write fanfiction about your own lives,” she says brightly, smiling to ensure there’s no bite to her words. “I for one am just glad to be included, in all fairness. Maybe a bit more next time, though. My part was tragically small.”

“They’re love stories, Soph, you’re not supposed to be involved,” Lizzie mumbles from where her face is still pressed against Maddie’s neck. Both Jack and Sophie protest jokingly at that, carrying the faux outrage even as they gather their things and wave goodbye to leave. 

When they’re alone, Lizzie pulls away and smooths back Maddie’s hair, pressing a light kiss to her forehead and lingering there.

“I’d always choose you, you know,” she whispers, ducking her head so that their foreheads are pressed together. “In this life or any other. No one else comes close.” 

(It’s sweet and nice and Maddie likes to hear the way Lizzie’s mouth curls over the words, the way she lingers on choose and you. Maddie likes the way that Lizzie knows to reassure her without knowing about Evie’s call or Maddie’s annoyance. 

She likes that Lizzie knows her.)

“But it’s nice to know you’ve got a backup, huh?” Maddie jokes, lacing her fingers between Lizzie’s, unable to help her smile when Lizzie uses her free hand to hook a finger through a belt loop and tug Maddie closer. “In case things between us don’t work out?”

“Well, it never hurts to be prepared,” Lizzie says with a laugh, her free hand now at Maddie’s chin, thumb brushing her jawline. Her expression turns serious. “You know I love you, right? Just you.” 

“Gasp! What about Hamlet and Macbeth?” 

“Madeline,” Lizzie stresses, her hand moving to the back of Maddie’s neck, thumb now brushing under her ear. “I’m being serious.” 

Maddie drops her head onto Lizzie’s shoulder, sighing into the feeling of her wife’s hand in her own, the other lightly massaging the back of her neck. 

“I know. In this life or any other, I’d choose you too.” She pauses, pressing her free hand to Lizzie’s back, running her fingers up Lizzie’s spine slowly. “Though, my backup is Jack. I think you need to know.” 

Lizzie pulls away with a start as Maddie laughs.

“Come on, Maddie, way to ruin the moment.”

“No! Come back!” Maddie cries between her laughter, watching as Lizzie huffs indignantly and grabs Hamlet’s leash, causing the dog to begin trotting around the kitchen excitedly. “Don’t go! Don’t take the children because of this,” she adds, kneeling down and hugging Hamlet lightly, grimacing and giggling when he manages to lick the entire right side of her face. 

And Lizzie, seemingly unable to help it, laughs along. 

[fictionalized]

So, uhhhhh, conversation ended up talking about various other social media sites and I found out that I never deleted my LiveJournal? Which yikes. Anyway, looking at my posts, I found a noir Lord of the Rings thing I wrote, and..... I don’t know. Here it is.

4 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 Spent the night in a camp on the shores of the River Lune. My time at the Thorin's Hall was- well, one can hardly call time among the Dwarves exactly pleasant, but it was quiet. I did my best to keep a low profile, at least. Still, the past catches up with you eventually, even in the deeps, and Silvertounge had little choice in the matter. Got me what I needed, though- a quiet warning, a packed bag, and a quick pony were enough to get me out of the mine before the Easterlings could lay their grubby hands on me. Bastards think that just because they grow a beard and wield an axe, the Dwarves feel some kinship to them. Give it some time. You’ll never find much kinship in a dark corridor. I helped teach the Dwarves that. Too much trouble for me to go back now. If they lay eyes on me, not likely to get more than a bloody shout, a short fight, and a short pyre. Thorin’s Hall is not a safe haven anymore.

I'm a bit torn on where I should go from here. It's been years since I was last in the Shire, and many of the old names I remember aren't around any longer. Rumor has it that the Thain doesn't see himself as long for this world, and he's going to step down soon. Damn shame to see him go, if he does- Took's seen more blood than most anyone else in the Shire, but the years catch up eventually. Might as well make my way in, though, and see what can be found. I doubt Easterlings can tell one Hobbit from another, so the Shire may just be the ideal haven, for the time being. If I can find a way to pass the time. 6 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 That went neater than expected. Made my way into Michel Delving two afternoons past, and was surprised by what I saw. Things haven't been the same since Gamgee retired- probably hasn’t been this bad since the troubles with Saruman. But no heroes of the War are coming home to help. It’s up to the people of the Shire, and they just don’t want to bother. Already found a place to stay. Found Silvertounge’s last gift for me, too- a pony used to carrying a Dwarf around won’t have much more trouble with a Hobbit and half dozen gold ingots hidden in the saddle bags. With a gift like that, I likely could buy half the Shire, if I wanted. I’m grateful to Silvertounge. I hope the cold didn’t cause him too much suffering. With a stash like that, I’ve got more than I need right now. I had a little talk with the mayor, and I won’t have any problems getting what I want in town. Settled down in a little hole down in Three Farthing Stone, and buried the rest in my living room.

Been spending the past couple nights in the Ivy Bush. I can feel that itch starting again, after sitting still for two days, with no news of what’s going on. Can’t afford to just drown the time in the tavern, have to keep an ear out. I caught one of the Bounders on the road this evening- it took long enough to find him; I guess their numbers aren’t what they once were. He was nervous about something, but we had a nice chat. He said the borders looked clear, but he’d let me know if he saw anyone strange come into town. Good fellow. 7 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 Found the perfect opportunity. Turns out the Quick Post in the Shire has fallen to shreds. Just the sort of thing a restless young Hobbit with some spare time and a fast steed could do to keep an eye out, especially if he was looking to keep an ear out for news. The mayor seemed confused when I approached him for the job- he knows exactly how much money I have, even if no one else does. But he didn’t object, and Coffer and I- oh, I named the pony, seemed fitting- set out on our first delivery runs this afternoon. Things I’ve learned today- folk of the Shire are nosy, and boring. Dozens of messages, traveling no more than a handful of miles, and most of them nothing more notable than variations of “How are you, we’re well, see you soon.” Orders for shoes and pipeweed and pies, even the messages from the Shirriffs were boring- “all quiet in Buckland, thanks for asking.” And everyone asks what I’m carrying, too- not that they care, apparently, if other people know, as they’ll tell me everything they’ve written. Maybe they just hope I’ll deliver the message if something happens to their letter. We’ll see how tolerable this job remains. 21 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 Maybe the Shire isn’t so boring after all. Overheard one of the Shirriffs talking in the Ivy Bush after my last run this afternoon. Apparently there have been a lot of bad pies passed around lately. Baker’s shamed by it, and might get run out of business, and it takes a lot for people in the Shire to lose interest in someone who’s cooking for them. No one’s died, but a fair number of folk have taken ill. This might be worth looking into, certainly will pass the time as I watch the borders. By the Valar. This is what seems interesting now. Now I remember why I left the Shire in the first place. 26 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 Rough few days. A pack of Easterlings came into the Shire three nights past, must have followed me from Thorin’s Hall. The mayor has let things slip further than I thought- no organized response, and most everyone just locked themselves behind their doors. A few farmers were caught totally unprotected. I knew none of the Shirriffs would raise a hand to help, so I took Coffer and went out to do what I’m best at. Two days and nights running, coming out of the woods, and we got rid of them. There was only thirty Easterlings to start, and only half made it back out alive. Staying out in the woods like that meant I haven’t slept in the past few days. Well, I haven’t slept much since before I left Thorin’s Hall. Every time I drop off, the dreams of fire come back. It’s the thought of these Easterlings, it’s getting to me. Three days of fighting left me worn, but somehow peaceful. Focused. Talked to the mayor about the raids this afternoon. Three farms burned. One in Stockbrook two days ago, one near the Rushock Bog yesterday, and Overhill this morning. I saw each of them go up, but couldn’t stop the Easterlings. They paid for it, though. Mayor asked for their bodies, but he’s not ready for that. I burned them. He wasn’t happy, but what’s he going to do about it? I don’t understand this raid, though. I haven't seen the Easterlings send children on their raids before. They must be getting desperate, and with two dozen fewer warriors returning to them, then I hope that desperation chokes them. Oh, progress in the pies. Nearly three weeks- that’s how long they’ve been appearing. Somehow all the berries in the northwest Shire have been tainted. It’s madness. I’m looking into the baker- someone’s framing her, I know it. But who? Why go to all this trouble to put a baker out of business? She has to have made some enemy in her past. 28 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 Curse the Shire to Sammuth Nauru. Every single blasted Hobbit I’ve interviewed has nothing worthwhile to tell me about the baker. Most won’t even speak to me- I get nervous mutters at best and closed doors at best. This is the gratitude I get for three sleepless nights of protecting them from Easterlings. The Shirriffs are no better. They speak to me, but have nothing to tell me, other than what I already know- the berries were poisoned, spoiling the pies. Two Hobbits died from eating the pies yesterday. It is a cold poison that eats away at them. Others will join them soon. The Shire will see more deaths soon. I will find answers. 30 Wedmath, Shire Reckoning 1481 Still nothing. I searched the northwest realm of the Shire, all the way out to the River Lune, and found nothing. Whoever was there covered their tracks well; it looked like no one had even passed that way since I made my way to the Shire. The people of the Shire are getting scared, too. Paranoid. The Shirriffs have started mailing each other more notes. Sealed, this time, official-looking. Some say the mayor is going to call them in for a meeting, and the Bounders. Good. About blasted time they had some organization. But it won’t be anytime soon. Not for a few weeks, I’m sure. Hobbits are nothing if not slow to act. That’ll give me time to solve this. 4 Halimath, Shire Reckoning 1481 I can’t believe it. Those ungrateful curs. After all I’ve done in the Shire, and this is what they think. I gave in. Opened one of those official, sealed envelopes. The Shirriff of Greenfields sent a missive to the mayor. And he suspects me. Decided that it’s the outsider who’s done this. Vicious little backstabber, trying to convince the Bounders to take me in, send me to Arnor for “justice.” He’ll not lay a hand on me, I assure you of that. I tossed it into Rushock bog. The Shirriffs don’t want to wander the roads, they won’t trust the night and the Bounders to protect them. Afraid of the Easterlings, I know. And I’m the only one protecting them. But they won’t go to the mayor in person, and I won’t carry word of their betrayal of me. Not on my watch. I must be more vigilant in what I’m delivering. Thanks to the Valar for Coffer. I’ve been staying up longer and longer, working on this problem and watching for the Easterlings. He’s learned the routes for the post, and that’s the only time I can get a few bits of sleep, it seems. He’s a patient sort, always makes sure to wake me up in time for a delivery, or if anyone approaches. Good pony. If any of Silvertounge’s sons remain, I should let them know I appreciate their father’s gift. 7 Halimath, Shire Reckoning 1481 No luck with the pies. Blasted, cursed pies. I must have missed something. What did I see or what didn’t I see. The berries, all along the river’s shore. The Shirriffs are- they’re asking questions. More of them. All of them. Too many questions, too many to ignore. Are they right? Have I… No. No, I can’t have. I wouldn’t feed them to the cold. But the letters. I think they’re starting to send word with the Bounders. They’re starting to wonder. I need more sleep. 8 Halimath, Shire Reckoning 1481 The Easterlings struck again. Two of the Shirriffs were killed, and four Bounders. They never saw me coming for them. 9 Halimath, Shire Reckoning 1481 The Shire is no place for me anymore. .In the middle of the night, I dug up my six gold ingots from the floor, and made my way east towards Bree. I’ll miss the Ivy Bush, but I’m certain they’ll be safer without me. No Easterling will menace them after I’m gone. We’ll see what Bree holds for me.

[r-ahh-mi]

Ocean Eyed Phantom

Pairing: Merriell Shelton (Snafu) x fem!reader

Summary: When a women has a dream about her past lover, the nightmare seems a little too real for her liking. 

Warnings: Sad!Sad!Sad!, mentions of death, and mentions of pregnancy.

Word Count: 2.4 k

A/N: This is my first time writing for Snafu so I hope this is up to par. Let me know what you think of this -- I am very open to writing another part if the interest is there. Hope you enjoy xx

-

His large tanned fingers ran along the waves of my hair, tangling themselves lightly until he pulled his hand away so his palm rested on my cheek. His warmth spread along my face, surely creating a crimson glow to my skin tone, as my hand moved to rest on top of his. His lips moved nearer and nearer until our mouths collided in a sweet and gentle peck—not too short, but not too long. It was just the right amount of PDA for our little picnic in the park during the hot and humid summer in New Orleans.

“I love ya so much.” His lips tickled along my earlobe as he moved to press a brief kiss to my neck.

I whispered a reply identical to his as my lips spread into the most vomit inducing, lovey dovey smile one could fathom. But I was in love, and smitten, and dumbfounded by this glorious feeling of wanting someone just as much as they wanted me.

“Wha’ do ya think we’re gonna’ do now that we’re hitched?”

I shrugged, leaning my face into his palm that was still cupping my cheek. His thumb responded naturally as it began rubbing along my sun kissed skin. “At least now, in the eyes of God, we aren’t fornicators.”

Merriell bit his lip as he stifled a laugh. “Oh but baby, how I did love fornicatin’ with ya.”

“Stop it,” I giggled, pushing away his hand as it slowly began creeping up under the hem of my flowing dress that was resting about mid thigh.

His eyes were round and mischievous as we gently wrestled back and forth with one another in the fresh smelling grass; giving gentle shoves and pats until we were both out of breath and in dire need of a good rest. 

Merriell was left laying on his stomach in between my legs. His chin rested against my lower stomach as my fingers knitted themselves into his dark, wavy hair. He watched me with light, loving eyes as his hand came up to gently rub along my cotton covered stomach. I couldn’t help but smile as he fixed his gaze on the navy colored fabric that was tightly fixed along my twelve week bump that had just recently started to show. He didn’t say anything, but his expression was a clear indication that he was utterly in love with this child that we had unexpectedly created together, which only made my fondness for him grow more intense with every loving look and caress he gave to the child growing in my belly.

“You’re going to be a great daddy Mer, you know that, right?”

He peered up at me with an unmarked expression on his face as he withheld a response. 

“Did you hear me?”

Merriell nodded, but his eyes were all over the place except for my face which made me move my hand from his hair to his chin and gently tilt it upwards. When his eyes finally found mine, they were still blank, but I knew him better than anyone and when he was unreadable, that’s when he was needing to be questioned.

“Talk to me baby.” This time he leaned his cheek into my palm as it replicated his prior actions; I loved running my thumb along the dusting of freckles that rested just below his eyes.

“I just don’ wanta’ disappoint ya’ or the baby is all.”

I shook my head vigorously, moving my shoulders off of the ground so I was nearly sitting upright. “You could never do such a thing Merriell. Don’t be so hard on yourself; you’re going to be a great daddy to her and you’re already an amazing husband to me.”

His body didn’t move besides his eyes beginning to rapidly blink as his thick black eyelashes gave him a splash of innocence, almost making him replicate a sleepy toddler. His fingers began picking at the dry cuticles set on his calloused hands--a nervous tick he had always relied on in moments of discomfort.

“I just wanta’ get this right, ya’ know?,” he whispered the words out as if they were a little secret and true, it wasn’t a side of him that he enjoyed flaunting. Not many got to see the timid and self conscious Merriell Shelton like I did.

“I do know. I’m just as scared as you are baby.”

“Ya’ are?” His lips began to relax and the crinkles underneath his eyes softened back into his skin as I nodded to him with a small smile.

“But we can do this. We have each other now. We aren’t two different units, we are one support system and you know i’m always here for you.”

This time he nodded with a soft smile on his face as he let his eyes close briefly, allowing himself to revel in this feeling of being adored and supported by another. Then his eyes met mine, holding me there in an intense stare and I could feel it. You know how you can just tell someone is staring at you--that’s what i’m talking about. I could physically feel his eyes glued to me paired with a gorgeous toothy smile. 

But suddenly, I was gasping for air. I placed my hand on my tightening throat, looking to Merriell with wide eyes for some sort of support or assistance, but he watched on with his mouth turning downwards into a slowly forming frown. I wanted to call out, I wanted to scream, and most importantly I wanted to scold Merriell for not helping me. Why wasn’t he frantic? Why wasn’t he acting like he cared? 

-

My body jolted upwards, making me jump several inches off of my pillow top mattress as my loud gasps rang throughout the dark and dusty feeling room. My chest ached from having to do so much work, but my lungs slowly but surely began evening out and falling back into their rhythm as the harsh noise of my attempts to grab onto air began to quiet. My hand was on my throat, just as it was in my dream, except this dream was different from all of the others.

I had plenty of dreams about my past lover and father to my little girl who wasn’t so little anymore, but this one was the most real feeling. It was like I could feel his hand on my stomach, I could sense his stare; even now, I could feel his digits as they combed through my hair. Except he wasn’t and he hadn’t done that in nearly twenty years. Almost two decades ago, Merriell left me and his baby girl for the war and I supported him every step of the way, no matter how much it hurts me to know that I wouldn’t be seeing him for a long period of time. What I didn’t expect was to never see him return at all.

Sure, I knew the stories about this war and I knew a lot of people who had lost husbands, brothers, and sons, but they weren’t my Merriell. In my mind he was invincible and I suppose that’s where I got it wrong. I should’ve prepared myself for the chance of him not returning, but instead I played my role of devoted mother and wife and counted the days until he was scheduled to be home. But that day never came.

Instead, I was greeted by some men in fancy, colorful uniforms as they knocked softly against the cheap wooden door of our rented, run down house that had become our paradise. Their expressions were blank and I  greeted them cheerfully, expecting them to give me an update on my boy. How naive could a girl be?

My breathing had calmed now as I thought back to that awful, horrendous day, but the shakes in my body were not completely gone. They were more like small vibrations against my fingers and arms now, but they were still noticeable and still such large reminders of how I would never be over him. My Merriell, my sweet, sweet Merriell who didn’t get to see his baby girl grow up or grow old and weary with me.

I looked to my left, ensuring that my sleeping husband was still snoring away--which he was. Although he cared for me just fine, he was not Merriell. He would never be able to give me that love that Mer was able to give it to me, but instead I moved on and settled for something closer. I gave my husbands resting body a gentle caress before lifting the duvet off of my body. My legs wobbled and shook as they lifted my body from the mattress and carried me into the hallway.

It was just starting to get cold in Boston. The leaves were just beginning to dissipate and fall to the ground in various hues of brown, yellow, and orange which also meant the mornings were becoming darker and darker with the sun not wanting to rise quite as early as it did during the summer months. 

Though the floor was usually creaky, I managed to tiptoe my way down the hallway without so much as a slight squeal from the floorboards. As my hand twisted on the shining silver door knob, I nearly pulled myself back, scolding myself for doing such an odd thing, but seeing her face was something that I knew would calm me. I needed my little girl right now.

The door opened silently as I stood in the entryway, admiring how the moon seemed to set a spotlight on my daughter's sleeping form. She lay on her back with a hand sprawled across her stomach, just like her daddy did. Her dark, springy curls covered half of her face and I couldn’t help myself - I had to get closer. Some more tip toeing ensued as I moved my body closer and closer to her bed until I was stood right next to her.

Her face was all her fathers—thick eyelashes and all. Her attitude wasn’t too far off either, although she wasn’t quite as sarcastic as Merriell was, but she definitely had his charm and little spark to her. She drove me crazy at times, but what seventeen year old girl didn’t. Her body stirred lightly as she began rolling to her left, then a minute later to her right. Her attempts to getting back to sleep were not doing very well, so I figured I could comfort her as i did when she was just a bed of curls and a diaper. I laid my hand on her back gently and began moving the pads of my fingers across her back. 

Eventually her breathing came back to an even pace and her body stayed still. I figured I’d been creepily staring and admiring my daughter for long enough so I set off back to bed, hoping that some movement and change of subject would be good enough for my brain to let me fall back asleep. However, as I was walking back down the hallway, I felt a cold gust of wind smooth its way past me.

I double checked the window just down the hall--nothing. Though it would’ve been difficult, I suppose a breeze could’ve moved all the way to the upstairs part of the house. I brushed it off and continued my journey, clutching the robe to my body as the temperature seemed to continue dropping and dropping, but what ultimately startled me was a creaking noise that clamored from the dark wood floor, but the sound seemed to come from the opposite side of the hallway.

Quickly, I swiveled my head around my shoulder, expecting my very tired daughter to be standing there, questioning why I was in her bedroom in the middle of the night, but there was nothing. The hallway was empty, excluding myself and the grandfather clock that was ticking away at the other end of the hall. To test the waters, I moved my foot back to the step it had just taken, testing the floorboards as I jabbed at it with different amounts of weight and pressure, but they never made a peep.

My mind was probably just too exhausted and creating things that weren’t there. I’d only really slept for two, maybe three hours tops--I shook my head at my ignorance in believing a mind as sleep deprived as mine and continued my steps until my feet landed on the blush colored carpet of my bedroom. My husband was still snoring away peacefully in his deep sleep--it must be nice to get a good night’s rest. I really haven’t gotten one since the dreams of him began, nearly ten years ago. 

Never the less I had found some tricks that seemed to work better than others. I usually just needed to walk around or find something to keep my mind preoccupied until my eyes were so exhausted they could no longer stay open. My little visit to my daughters room had done the trick, I hoped, as I settled into my side of the bed and began burying my body under the warm covers.

My eyes were lazily hanging open as I glanced towards the wall in front of me, set maybe ten or so feet away. I wasn’t even aiming to look and focus on anything at the moment, all I wanted was to envision and relish in the darkness of what lies behind my eyelids, but something or rather someone caught my eye. The pupils were still getting used to the complete darkness of the room, but as they became more familiar with seeing in this dimmed light, that’s when I could fully see the figure sitting in the arm chair in the corner of the room.

All I could manage to do was freeze as my elbows supported my body while I leaned my weight back onto them. At first, my thoughts were “There’s an intruder in my house and i need to find out a way to get rid of them while still keeping myself safe”. However, my thoughts began to shift once I took in the figures appearance--my eyes had to have been deceiving me, for this man was one I hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years. This man was dead. This man was gone. There was no possible way and yet--he is sitting in front of me! He is looking at me! My precious Merriell is alive and well and looks exactly like the young man who had lost his life much too soon.

-

Tag: @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash@amcquivey  @rogers-wristbands @deacytits

[rambling-at-midnight]

Inferno: Part 4

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

“Okay, challenge time!” Spider-man chirps into the camera, grinning brightly. “We’re bored and there’s no criminals out at the moment so we decided to show off a little bit.”

You don’t smile into the camera exactly, but kind of smirk as comments start to roll in from viewers of his livestream. Someone suggests a race.

“We could race?” you suggest, pointing to the far end of the roof you’re on. “There and back?” Though you know it’s fruitless—you and Peter are just about the same speed, though he might be a few seconds faster while you have more endurance—you figure it’s a fun enough challenge.

“You’re going down, Stark,” Spidey says. You can hear the smirk in his voice even though he doesn’t have his mask rolled up at all. You roll your eyes and prepare yourself, muscles tensed in anticipation. The wind whips around you and you spit hair out of your mouth as goosebumps appear on your arms. “On your mark, get set, go!”

You shoot forward as he does, breaths coming in short pumps as you sprint as fast as you can go the edge of the building. You stoop to touch the elevated side and spin. Unfortunately Spidey doesn’t feel the need to stoop and he gains a millisecond lead, laughing at your squawk of indignation.

“I win!” he crows through gasping breaths, delighted. You scowl at him, panting.

“Yeah, ‘cause you cheated.”

“I did not cheat. You didn’t specify the rules.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I didn’t think you were going to cheat!”

Spidey crosses his arms. “You can pick the next one if you want, all right?”

You near the phone and squint at the comments. Someone suggests kissing each other, but you ignore that one even if your cheeks burn; no matter who you hang out with, being a young celebrity means a rabid fanbase that both wants you to be in a relationship with someone and wants you to be available for a relationship with them. You’ve learned to ignore it at this point.

After spending so much time with Spider-man during the past three months, you have to admit that the shipping has become a little out of hand. Especially considering you’re pretty sure you have a humongous crush on the guy based on the butterflies in your stomach every time you hang out (but that might also just be nerves from the height, because he prefers to hang out on top of buildings rather than anywhere else).

Someone else suggests doing a backflip, which you don’t know how to do, but that’s sort of Spidey’s specialty.

“Do a backflip,” you decide, leaning back on your heels.

Spidey huffs. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing this with me?”

“We’re showing off, not competing,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll light myself up like a Christmas tree after you.” You need the warmth after all.

“Okay, here goes.” Spidey plants his feet and executes a clean backflip. You clap a few times. “Your turn, Inferno,” he teases.

You rub your hands together and shiver. Spidey watches you shake your limbs out, preparing to call the heat always under your skin to the surface.

But it’s not under your skin.

Your eyes widen and your heart immediately starts to pump. Adrenaline floods your system. You’d completely let your guard down. There’s no heat.

“Y/N?” Spidey asks. “You good?”

“I’m fine.” You avoid his gaze by staring at the ground and clench your fists. Seconds ago you were shivering, now you’re flooded with heat. It’s never been hard to call the heat back, but it’s also never left you completely before. Within seconds you’re glowing red-hot.

“It’s like standing next to a bonfire,” Spider-man admits to the camera. “Hey, maybe your superhero name should be Bonfire instead of Inferno.”

You relax slightly. Though your hair still waves in the wind, you don’t feel its chill at all. You still feel cold. “Yeah, because that sounds so much cooler.”

Spidey waves at the phone. “Well, that’s all for today because the sun’s setting. See you guys tomorrow!” His phone buzzes in his hand and you resist your curiosity as he taps out a quick message to someone.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” you ask curiously.

“Kind of,” he shrugs. Now that the camera’s turned off, he rolls up his mask to just above the tip of his nose. “But in an hour or so. So we still have time to hang out.” His lips curl up into a lopsided smile. You stop yourself from staring at them for too long. “What are you doing tonight?”

You scowl and turn away from him, shrugging your shoulders halfheartedly. “I think the whole team wants to have a movie night. I wanted to watch Wonder Woman but Wonder Boy is coming over tonight and he loves Star Wars so we’re watching his pick. Just like we have every movie night since I came back.” You sit down on the edge of the building, letting your feet swing a little bit.

“And Wonder Boy is...?” Spidey hesitantly sits next to you. His phone buzzes again. He looks at the screen and shoves it back into his pocket.

“My dad’s favorite intern.” You laugh bitterly. “Heir to Stark Industries at this point, I assume. Dad talks about him more than he talks about his fiancee.”

“Did you tell your dad you wanted to watch Wonder Woman?”

You shake your head. “Why even bother? I stopped trying after the second movie night.”

“Then maybe he thinks you don’t have a problem with it,” Spidey concludes. “I don’t know. I don’t see him that often, but whenever he checks in on me Tony seems kind of cool. He never mentions his intern to me.”

You snort. “You obviously don’t hang out with him that often, then. I don’t think he can go five minutes without mentioning Peter Parker.”

Sounding nervous although you don’t know why, Spidey asks, “And your only issue with this Peter Parker is that your dad—”

“Clearly prefers him over me?” you interrupt. “I mean, I guess. I haven’t really talked with the dude that much.”

Spidey hums.

“What about you, huh?” You side-eye him. “What’s bothering you today?”

Spidey smiles the smile that you know means trouble. Something flutters in your stomach. “My biggest problem today is that this suit is just a little bit too tight around my more, uh...” He clears his throat and gestures at his crotch. “Private areas.”

You laugh, surprised. “You mean compression isn’t a good thing for your, uh...”

“My dangly bits?” he supplies, prompting another shocked laugh out of you.

“Well, it might be uncomfortable with girls’ chests, but that’s the best way for us to keep everything together,” you explain. “I’ll take it’s not the same for you?”

“I think for me it’s a little too sensitive for that,” Spidey grins, nudging your shoulder with his. “But I appreciate your concern.”

Your cheeks flaming red, you change the subject. “That bully still messing with you? You know, I could beat him up for you if you wanted.”

Spidey shakes his head. He sounds sad when he replies, even though his mouth is smiling. “Nah, it’s fine, though. If he stopped picking on me, he’d move on to another target. At least I know that I can take the hints, you know?”

Your chest feels a little warm at that sentiment and you lean your head on his shoulder. “You’re the best, Spidey. If only my dad would take you home instead of Parker.”

“I bet he’s not that bad,” Spidey reasons. “I assume getting to know him is out of the picture.”

You huff at that and sit up. “You’re absolutely right. First off, it would be proving my dad right. He said I can’t make friends without his help, but I’ve got you, haven’t I? Completely without his help.”

Spidey clears his throat.

“Plus, if I did decide to hang out with Parker and Dad, I’d have to deal with their inside jokes all the time as well as Dad constantly praising Parker more than me.”

Spidey shifts uncomfortably and you elbow him. “I’m serious!” you insist. “I walked into the lab when I didn’t know Parker was there and it was insane. He stared at my dad for five seconds, Dad nodded and tossed him a wrench and it was apparently exactly what he wanted. Then later, Dad literally said something like ‘two nine four cat computer’ or some other gibberish and Parker replied ‘Turn it the other way’. It’s absolutely ridiculous. They act more like family than I ever have with Dad.”

“I know it’s been a tough transition,” Spidey starts and you snort, taking your head off his shoulder and looking away. He thinks he makes a great therapist, but he really doesn’t and you’re not really in the mood.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You perk up. “How’s your Lego friend?”

“Lego fri—oh, you mean Ne—yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” Spidey stutters. “We’ve been busy lately with finals and everything coming up but his parents are going to get him the Millenium Falcon set for his birthday and we’re going to spend the whole day making that together. So that’s really exciting.”

You smile at how excited he sounds.

“Yeah?” he suddenly asks.

You frown. “I didn’t—”

He holds up a finger to shush you and mouths, “Karen.” That is, you know, the name of his AI. He jumps to his feet. “There’s an ATM robbery in progress five blocks away!”

You also jump up. “You want help or something?”

“It’s fine,” Spidey assures you. “You’re not in your suit anyway.” Without warning, he reaches around your waist and jerks you off your feet. You stiffen. If you weren’t such good friends with him you would tug away, but three months does build up some trust.

Still, your heart is pounding by the time your feet touch solid ground.

“Have fun hanging out with your dad and Parker!” he calls, jogging backwards as he adjusts the mask over his face completely. “Maybe he’s cooler when you get to know him!”

You roll your eyes and wave goodbye to him. You’re about to call an Uber when someone calls your name and you look up.

“Y/N Stark, right?” what looks to be the leader of a group of boys asks. You nod. “Can we get a picture?”

“Sure.”

You take the picture and decide against calling an Uber at this time, instead opting for jogging home. Of course, your ‘jog’ could be classified as a light sprint, so you arrive at the compound in only 45 minutes.

“How was hanging out with Spider-man?” your father asks.

You shrug. “Fine.”

“You two are pretty close, huh?”

“We’re friends,” you simply reply.

And nothing more. If there’s one thing you know about Spider-man, it’s that he’s very down to earth. He would never want all the fame that’s associated with dating a Stark. He hardly likes the fame he gets as Spider-man; why else would he keep his identity a secret? Besides, you couldn’t really date someone whose name or face you don’t know, even if they are funny and goofy and sweet.

“I finished upgrading your suit,” Tony adds. “It’s in the lab. I’m having Peter look it over just in case I missed something.”

Oh, so apparently Tony respects Peter so much that he has him look over his own work. You scowl and your palms start to heat up. “I don’t need Parker to sabotage my suit. Thanks, Dad.” You stomp towards the lab.

“Come on, Y/N,” Tony calls with exasperation at your back. “Just give him a chance!”

Sure enough, stupid Parker sits with his back to the door, curls wild. He really needs to get a haircut. He’s staring at a hologram of your suit.

He hardly stirs when you enter the lab, save for examining the right sleeve of the suit where a small flame is embroidered. Somehow, his dismissal of you makes you even more annoyed, so you march over to him and turn off his hologram without a word.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he spits.

“I don’t need you to sabotage my suit, Parker,” you hiss back. “I can look over my dad’s coding perfectly well, thank you.”

Parker rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like messing with your suit is one of my priorities. It would be my greatest pleasure in life to see a criminal stab you because I loosen the weft just enough.”

“Well, considering it wouldn’t hurt me, I doubt you’d be too bothered,” you snipe back.

“It would still hurt you,” Parker points out. “It just wouldn’t kill you. As much as you dislike me, that doesn’t mean I want to cause you harm. Besides, your dad would kill me.”

You snort.

“What, you think he wouldn’t be bothered if his daughter got hurt because of me?” Parker frowns.

You roll your eyes and throw yourself into a nearby chair, pulling up a hologram for a suit upgrade for Spider-man you’ve been considering. Parker chokes. “What’s that?”

“None of your business,” you respond automatically, using your left hand to view the different web combinations you could implement. With your right hand, you unlock your phone and text Spider-man.

@Y/N_Stark: hey, you get home okay? the robbers beat you up too bad?

Your screen shows that he hasn’t read your text yet, so you leave your phone unlocked and on the table, waiting for his response. You highlight his crotch and type an equation to enlarge the area. It’s tricky because it still requires support.

Your phone buzzes on the table and you practically lunge to read his response, which is a little humiliating, but oh well.

@The-Official-Spiderman: yeah, im all good. they were no match for me and my bulging muscles. they didn’t even put up a fight. the second they saw me they gave up

You roll your eyes.

@Y/N_Stark: yes, you’re totally an intimidating figure dressed up like an arachnid and climbing the walls

@The-Official-Spiderman: hey, you love it. its part of my charm

@Y/N_Stark: and you’ve got so much of that don’t you

You glance over your shoulder to make sure Parker isn’t spying on you adjusting Spider-man’s suit. To your relief, he seems engrossed in his phone as he taps away. Thank god for technology. It’s two teenagers that like to ignore each other’s best friend.

@The-Official-Spiderman: uh, yeah, my hordes of female fans would agree with you there

@Y/N_Stark: oh my bad, forgot you were such a big celebrity.

@The-Official-Spiderman: youre damn right it was your bad

@The-Official-Spiderman: hows it going with Parker and your dad?

@Y/N_Stark: oh, you know, the usual, my dad’s letting parker sabotage my suit and trusts him to check his own work and won’t even give me projects to work on because i’m still ‘adjusting’

@The-Official-Spiderman: if you think Parker’s going to do such a bad job, why don’t you work on it with him?

He’s kind of got you there.

@Y/N_Stark: you really think I want to spend more time than is required with him?

@The-Official-Spiderman: i have to go work on hw. i’ll ttyl, ok? just try to talk to Parker, all right? you never know he may surprise you

You opt not to respond to his message and turn off your phone just as the lab’s door opens. “Y/N! Underoos!” your dad calls enthusiastically. You’ve never understood that nickname for Parker. When you asked about it, Peter turned red and stuttered. Your dad, similarly terrible at lying, looked away and muttered something under his breath.

“Oh, look at this,” Tony groans dramatically. “Two teenagers that could be talking to each other ignoring each other on their phones.”

Parker turns off his phone, grinning star-struck at your dad, and you roll your eyes. “Is it time for the movie?”

You roll your eyes and turn back to your work. Problem is, you have no idea just how much you should expand that part of his suit. You’ll have to ask Karen for his, um, measurements next time you get her hooked up. It’s not weird, right? Not if it’s just for suit purposes. Just for suit purposes.

“Almost,” Tony replies. “Episode V, right?”

“Actually,” Peter says slowly. You’re still pretending not to be paying attention, but you watch out of the corner of your eye as he taps his chin. “I know we’ve been watching the Star Wars series in order, but I think Sam’s getting a bit sick of watching it. Why don’t we change it up?”

“What should we watch, then?” Tony leans against the bench with his hip.

Peter shrugs. “Y/N, any idea?”

You also shrug. Sure, you’ve got an idea, but your dad obviously doesn’t want to hear your opinion, so why should you offer it?

“Come on, Y/N,” Tony wheedles. Maybe he’d only just noticed I’m in the room, you think darkly. “There’s gotta be at least one movie you’re dying to see.”

There are quite a few, actually. You have a list of every movie you heard about over the internet that you want to see. You probably could watch them, too, but you’ve never been a fan of watching movies alone.

Your dad’s phone dings. He looks at it and curses.

“What?” you ask, sitting up.

“Ross called a meeting,” Tony grumbles. “For all the Avengers.”

You stand.

“All the adult Avengers,” he corrects.

You sit.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, but it looks like movie night is going to be postponed.” Tony presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “You can pick next time!” he calls as he strides out of the room, but you know he’s going to forget that promise before next movie night.

“At his office?” you hear your father say just before leaving. “Are you kidding me?”

You clench your jaw, disappointment making your eyes sting. Without taking it in, you sit stiffly and stare at the hologram of Spider-man’s suit. Your dad will never give it to him, you know that. He’ll never even look at the design.

Parker coughs behind you. You whirl, insults on the tip of your tongue, but you’re taken aback when he’s closer than you’d thought. His hands are behind his back and he scuffs his toe on the floor. Is it you, or does he look... shy?

“We could still have a movie night, if you’d like,” he offers.

Your knee-jerk reaction is a firm no. Before it leaves your mouth, however, you hesitate. You’re not sure why.

“Whatever movie you’d like,” he promises, running a hand through his hair. “And I won’t say anything to upset you.”

You frown. Your problem with Parker doesn’t have anything to do with him. It has everything to do with your father. He knows that, right? He’s got to after your very first interaction with him.

You bite your lip, studying his earnest face, his brown curls, his puppy dog eyes. He reminds you of someone. Maybe your father. They certainly act enough like family. Finally, you nod your assent.

The smile that spreads across his lips is blinding. It makes you happier than you feel a right to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You feel lighter today than you have in a while, and so cold you even bought a sweatshirt. Spider-man cracks another joke that makes you laugh, bending over. Your abs have started to hurt.

When you look up, he’s staring at you. You color. “What?”

“N-nothing,” he stutters, making a move as if he’s going to push hair out of his face but his mask covers all of that so he just looks like an idiot. “It’s just... you’ve gotten a lot happier than you first were when you were released from the Raft.”

Self-conscious now, you adjust your hoodie and look away.

“Shut up,” he says aloud.

“What?” You know he did not just tell you to shut up—after you didn’t say anything, no less.

“No, Karen,” he explains. “She keeps telling me to...” He shakes his head. “It’s stupid.”

Despite yourself, your heart rate picks up. “What?”

“It’s just...” Spider-man’s fingers twiddle together in his lap. “I’m not a very impulsive person. You know?”

You laugh. “You’re Spider-man. A radioactive spider bit you and you decided the best thing to do was become a vigilante. You throw yourself into danger every night without a second thought. I’d say you’re pretty impulsive. At least as Spider-man. I don’t know about your secret identity.” As always, you raise your eyebrows at him in silent question, curiosity burning like the fire under your skin. Though you don’t outright ask him what his secret identity is anymore, it’s no secret you’re curious about it.

Spidey’s lips twist into a bitter smile. “When you put it that way...”

You laugh softly and turn your gaze back to the skyline. You can still sense his eyes on you, though. When you turn to look at him, something in the air crackles. He���s staring at you wordlessly. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

“Y/N...”

“Yeah?” Your throat is suddenly extremely dry. Is he going to...

“Can I have your credit card?”

It feels like a kick to the gut.

“What?”

“I’m gonna go buy churros,” he explains. “I’ll pay you back. But I know that you carry your credit card and I can’t exactly carry mine in my suit, so...”

“Yeah,” you respond faintly, already digging in your pocket for the plastic. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at you. “Hey, I bet I can do a triple flip before I land.”

“I’ll take a video so you can post it,” you suggest. “If you make it.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make it,” Spidey vows. He unlocks his phone and hands it to you, pulling his mask down in the process. “Just watch.”

You click record and point it in his face. “You’re not gonna make it.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” Spidey jumps up and down like an athlete preparing for a race. “Here I go!” He takes a running start off the roof, sending a web to a nearby building. The web’s slack catches him just feet before he touches the ground—you gasp despite yourself—and slingshots him into the sky where he easily flips three times in the air and lands in a crouch.

You end the video and cheer. Spidey shouts and raises his arms in victory. “Did you see that?”

“That was awesome!” you shout down at him.

“Told you I could do it!” He waves. “I’ll be right back, all right?”

You wave back and click on the video to rewatch, your heart still racing after that scare. He may have advanced healing, but he’s not as indestructible as you and sometimes—like just then—you’re extremely aware of it.

His phone buzzes in your hand as someone texts him. You mean to swipe the notification up, not wanting to intrude on his privacy, but accidentally click on the text.

It’s from... your dad? You blink.

Mr. Stark: are you still with Y/N?

He won’t think it’s too much of an invasion of privacy if you only respond with a simple yes, right? It is only your dad, after all, and you’re not going to read any of the other texts.

Spidey’s so easygoing, you reason. He’ll be fine with it as long as I tell him right as he comes back.

You type out a quick yes and hit send.

You can’t stop your eyes from straying up slightly to the other texts Spider-man apparently shares with your father. Even though he says he doesn’t hear from him often, it looks like he’s been texting him... all day?

Your brows furrow as you read their conversation just from today.

Mr. Stark: Y/N’s been working on your suit for days. I noticed she had to expand the crotch... what’s that all about?

Me: ok so it is a little tight but it’s not a big deal and I didn’t think she was actually listening to me when i said that

Mr. Stark: you could have told me at any time, kid

Me: I didn’t want to bother you

Mr. Stark: you’re never a bother, Underoos

Me: I’m still on for Saturday, right?

Mr. Stark: Of course. Y/N said Wonder Woman, right?

Your hands are shaking, vision blurring as your eyes burn. Why is Tony calling Spider-man Underoos? Why is Spider-man coming over on Saturday to watch Wonder Woman if Saturday isn’t even scheduled to be a movie night?

Your stomach hurts.

You have to read more. You scroll up. Up past the constant texts where Spider-man texts your dad about where you are, how happy or sad you seem, if you got any injuries while fighting crime.

A drop of liquid splashes onto the screen. You scrub furiously at it and then at your eyes, continuing up. Up past the constant texts that aren’t even about you; about building suits together and movie nights and nicknames and gifts that Spider-man is so, so grateful for.

Up past the texts where Tony calls Spider-man Underoos, and kid, and Spiderling, and—

You stop when you see what you were looking for; (your thumb hurts. How long does it take to get churros?) proof that your father and Spider-man have been spying on you, making fun of you behind your back, invading your privacy, lying to you—the list goes on and on.

Mr. Stark: Hey, Parker, thanks again for agreeing to approach Y/N as Spider-man. It makes me so much less worried to know that she’s got a friend and someone to look out for her.

You don’t bother to read Spider-man’s response. No, Peter Parker’s response.

Much gentler than you thought possible, you turn the phone’s screen off and place it down on the ground, remembering just how many times Parker must have been laughing at you behind the mask. When you told him you can make friends without your father’s help. When you told him he’s your best friend. When you told him about your mother. When you told him what the Raft was like, something you hadn’t even told your father.

You’d spilled your entire life to him and he was just acting the whole time. Making fun of you the whole time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It turns out that climbing up buildings with churros in each hand is difficult. Peter transfers both to one hand, but climbing with one hand is still hard. Eventually he rolls up his mask and places them delicately in his mouth, making sure his mouth is only touching the wrapper and not the actual delicacy.

Thankfully, he reaches the top of the building without dropping the churros or biting through them. He proudly displays them, looking around for you. “So climbing is a lot harder with no hands than you’d think—” He notices his phone, locked in the center of the roof, and stops abruptly. “Y/N?”

He sets the churros delicately on the ground and scoops up his phone, unlocking it automatically. When he sees what you were looking at on his phone, his stomach drops.

“Oh, shit.”

Inferno Taglist:

@paullrud @eridanuswave @loveissupernatural @moistpotatobear @oh-annaa

Peter Parker x Reader Taglist:

@iconicbabesss

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight

[shinobi-imagines]

please read my story ㅠㅠ

Hi everyone! It’s been a minute... I don’t really come on Tumblr much anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t write! I just wanted to take the time to plug my new KakaOC fanfic called, The Price of Simplicity (read on fanfiction.net or ao3). 

The story starts in Kakashi’s ANBU days where he meets a civilian named, Tsuru. He finds her incredibly annoying, loud, yet she still draws him in for some reason. Soon, he finds out that Tsuru is terminally ill and is destined to die at a young age. While it is Tsuru could never fully understand the life of a shinobi, Kakashi realizes that the two aren’t so different. 

I would really appreciate it if you guys could read, comment, like, follow, and support my work! I will leave the first chapter under the cut!

The darkest times of Kakashi Hatake’s life were in his youth. The time which many advise you not to waste were tossed in the throes of war for Kakashi. He was bitter. So bitter for so many years and often wondered what the point of living was. However, he swore to himself since he was a little boy that suicide was not an option. Suicide was for cop outs like his father was when the man had left his son that one brutal night. So, Kakashi contemplated to the best way or any acceptable way for a shinobi to die.

By twenty-three, Kakashi was already a well established ninja in Konoha. He had climbed the ranks quickly and by the time he was sixteen, he had already become an ANBU captain. Here he was. Nine years and still an ANBU. Seven years and still a captain. Kakashi had stopped caring for rankings the moment he understood the burden that came with excellence.

“It’s settled then!” his “eternal rival” Gai yelled fiercely. “Kakashi, you’re coming out with us tonight!”

Gai hadn’t changed much in Karachi’s eyes. He was still annoying and much too intense, but Gai was perhaps the only person Kakashi found some comfort in. However, Gai’s attempts to get Kakashi to socialize was starting to get on his nerves.

“Tonight,” Gai continued, “you and I will battle over and over again! We’ll see who the best drinker is! We will see who can get the most girls! We will see-”

“You can stop,” Kakashi denied cooly. “I won’t be going out.”

“I think you misunderstand,” Gai almost growled. “This is no request nor is it a simple invitation. It is a challenge!”

Kakashi sighed. Had he said no to Gai’s demand…well…no wouldn’t have been an acceptable answer. It was Kakashi’s fault in the first place for telling the man he was given a day off the very next day.

Gai had come to visit Kakashi who was getting treated at the hospital for some injuries and a checkup from his previous mission. Although Kakashi hated being in the hospital, it was routine to go and Kakashi liked having routines.

Kakashi let the sounds of Gai drown out as he looked up at the ceiling wondering what he’d gotten into. The two walked down the hall way towards the lobby of the hospital when a girl walked by. Neither of the ninjas noticed her. She was just a patient wearing clothes provided by the hospital. She seemed rather happy and walked with a smile on her face that is until she tripped over seemingly nothing and fell fatefully right in front of two ninjas.

“Are you okay?” Kakashi asked offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m fine!” she replied obviously flustered. She ignored the hand that Kakashi held out and rushed past the two before they could get a glimpse of her face.

“She looked a little young to be in the hospital,” Gai noted out loud.

“Yeah,” Kakashi concurred. “But you never know what happens in someone’s life. Look at me, I come here all the time.”

The bushy browed man merely blinked unsure if Kakashi was being serious or had told a joke.

Night came in almost no time. The sun had gown down and the village lights turned on. There were no kids out on the streets during this hour unless they were trying to sneak into bars to get their first tastes of alcohol with some thrill on the side. Honestly, Kakashi could spot those kids in the farthest corner of the bar from over a mile away without the help of his Sharingan. They were visibly attempting to contain their excitement and attempting to ignore the fact that they stuck out like a sore thumb.He probably didn’t realize that he was glaring at the boys, but Kakashi’s friends surely did.

“Hey,” Asuma called out to Kakashi. “Just let them be. They’re just having fun.”

“Yeah!” Genma jokingly snapped all too stoic man. “The party’s here, Kakashi!”

In Kakashi’s mind, he was thinking about how ungrateful those kids were acting. People like him from a young age put their lives on the line so that people like them could be safe and away from war. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They didn’t know war because people like Kakashi had made it so they wouldn’t need to know war. Finally caving into his friends’ desires, he rejoined the group with a shot of sake which was met with a round of cheers from the other four men.

“Oh, Raido!” Genma drunkenly whispered to his friend sitting beside him. “Look at that lady who just walked in. Isn’t she pretty?”

Genma’s drunk whisper reached everyone’s ears, and certainly at the door was a very pretty woman with blonde hair that looked almost white and a pair of gray eyes. She wore a tight black dress with long lace sleeves and a pair of black heels. Talk immediately began circulating around the bar. Some speculated, she might have been a model although she looked a little short to be a model. Others theorized the girl was an actress, however, no one had seen her in any sort of production before.

Whoever she was, she seemed to be alone. Kakashi noticed that she had the same light of excitement and innocence in her eyes as the underage fellows who thought that they had beat the system. A naive girl at a bar alone only screamed danger. As predicted, a rugged man with a red flush spread across his cheeks approached the woman.

“Do we stop him?” Raido asks the group.

“I don’t know,” Asuma added.

“Did she not come with anyone?” Genma inquired further.

“If no one’s going to to take this chance, then I-” Gai stopped abruptly as Kakashi got up from his seat towards the girl who was clearly about to be harassed.

“Oh,” Asuma said surprised, “I guess even Kakashi can’t resist a beautiful damsel in distress.”

In truth, Kakashi just about had it with being surrounded by such annoying people. He slowly walked over watching as the drunk man flirted with the girl who looked unsure of what to do.

“Are you new here?” the man slurred. “If you are, I’ll buy you a drink and I could show you around the village tonight.”

“Uh,” she stammered, “no. I was actually born and raised here. Also, I don’t drink.”

“Eh? No way. A pretty face like your’s is something no one could forget!”

The stranger leaned closer and placed a hand on the woman’s knee. His face was right beside her ear when a shadow casted over his back. The woman looked up to see Kakashi with a dark glare in his eyes. It honestly frightened her too.

“If you don’t want any trouble,” Kakashi started to advise, “you’ll go back to your seat.”

“And who do you think you-” the man cut himself off as turned around. “K-K-Kakashi-san! What a surprise!”

The woman watched as the man stuttered like a baby before Kakashi.

“P-Please,” he got up and bowed, “excuse me!”

Kakashi glared down the man as he cowered and rushed away bumping into various chairs on his way back. He heard the woman sigh in relief. When he turned his glare to the woman, she jumped. He noticed that all the girl had her table was a cup of water. Kakashi recalled that the woman had claimed that she doesn’t drink.

“Oi,” Kakashi called out to who seemed like the dumbest woman alive, “are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?” she asked taken aback.

“Hey,” Gai rushed over to his friend, “calm down. You have to excuse him, he’s been really tense lately! Let us take you home. You can trust us, we’re noble shinobi of Konoha!”

“You heard me,” Kakashi ignored Gai. “Are you stupid?”

The woman pouted. Gai could see the flames blaring between the two intense stares.

“Well, who are you to interfere in someone else’s business?” she exclaimed in disbelief at the man’s audacity.

Before Gai could mitigate the situation any father, Kakashi and Gai saw the woman’s expression change from one of annoyance to surprise. As if on cue, another woman barged in.

“Tsuru nee-san!” she screamed angrily.

“Oh!” cried out the woman named Tsuru. “If it isn’t my little sister! Fancy seeing you here, Hyo-chan!”

Then a sound like the crack of lightning made the whole bar still. Hyo slapped Tsuru right across her face. This shocked even Kakashi because he was intending on reprimanding the dimwitted girl, however, this other woman with dark hair stepped in.

The two, who had claimed to be sisters, seemed to be related in only subtle ways. While Tsuru’s hair was light and long, Hyo’s hair was dark and short. Tsuru was much prettier than Hyo who’s appearance looked to be no more than average. However, the two had the same pale complexion and the same shade of gray eyes. Both were also rather short.

Another striking difference between the two was the existence of a Konoha hitae-ate around Hyo’s forehead. She wore the standard shinobi outfit. Judging by what he could see, Karachi deducted that Hyo was probably someone who was less invested in how she looked as opposed to her older sister.

“Wait outside for me, nee-san,” Hyo’s voice was quiet and demanding. It sent cold air throughout the silently stunned bar.

Without complaint, the older sister did as she was told.

“Wasn’t that a little too far?” Gai questioned Hyo. “You shouldn’t disrespect those who are older than you.”

Hyo glowered at the bushy browed jonin, “If she were your sister, you’d want to slap some sense into her too. The bitch keeps sneaking out of the hospital.”

For a moment, Kakashi noticed Hyo’s eyes grow grim before returning back to its original intensity.

The hospital? Kakashi realized that Tsuru was the girl he had tried to help up earlier that day.

“But still…” Gai’s voiced trailed off.

“I apologize,” Hyo bowed to the two men. “I hope my sister didn’t cause too much trouble for my seniors. I’ll be going now.”

Once the dark haired girl was gone, Kakashi said, “Gai.”

“Yeah,” Gai started, “I know. That Tsuru girl is the girl from the hospital.”

“Yes, but there’s something more than that.”

“Hm? What might that be?”

“She doesn’t seem to be a ninja, but she sensed her sister coming.”

“You’re right!”

“Oi!” Asuma called out to the two. “If you’re done making a ruckus, come join us for Kings’ Game!”

Gai marched happily back to the table amongst their friends. Kakashi too headed back, but with Tsuru in the back of his mind.

To put the facts together, Tsuru was undeniably beautiful; however, Kakashi had never seen her around before. She probably had some sort of condition that keeps her in the hospital. And it seemed that although she didn’t appear to be a kunoichi like her sister, she showed signs that she was a sensory type ninja which was a rare talent to have and develop. A spy maybe?

In the end, the group of inebriated and rowdy men certainly provided as a much needed distraction for Kakashi. While Kakashi didn’t really laugh or smile that night, he had to admit that he was rather entertained. Perhaps he was too accustomed in reading into things. Things aren’t always as they seem; but as one of Konoha’s elite shinobi he couldn’t help but think of all possible scenarios from the best to the worst.

Nonetheless, Kakashi woke up with a raging hangover the next morning. Probably from all the thinking.

[plumoh]

Yunmeng Duo Days - promises

Word count: 1315

Summary: Wei Wuxian will not let people think YunmengJiang sect is weak, after the war.

Note: AO3 link. For day 2 prompts.

The halls of the Nightless City carry sound very well, despite its cold stone walls.

“YunmengJiang sect has the face to show up.”

“Obviously, didn't you see the aftermath of each battle they took part in?”

“What I meant is that their sect leader is younger than us, do you truly believe that he'll get any respect? He's going to become full of himself, given the way Sect Leader Jin is licking his boots.”

“Hey.”

Wei Wuxian carelessly lifts his half-empty bottle of liquor, a few droplets splashing his cuffs, but his smile doesn't waver one bit even as the gossiping cultivators narrow their eyes at him. He scrutinizes each one of them.

“Not enjoying the feast? I can understand, it was getting kind of stuffy in there.”

“Wei Wuxian,” one of the cultivators hisses. “What do you want?”

“Me? Nothing, nothing! Keep talking, don't mind me.”

He takes a large swig of his bottle, appreciating how his throat warms as the liquid goes down. Not the best alcohol he's drunk, which is almost scandalous given who the host of this conference is, but he isn't going to judge Jin Guangshan's tastes. The cultivators in front of him are still staring, simmering in disgust or fear, not a word leaving their mouths, so Wei Wuxian will do the talking in their stead.

“The war is over, yeah? Everyone will go back to their own business. We have to take care of our sects now, right? If you have some grievances with the Jiang sect, I'm sure we can hear you out.”

He doesn't let any of them answer before he leaves, one hand still holding his liquor while the other absentmindedly grasps the end of Chenqing. He hears angry whispers and sharp intakes of breath, and his grin widens further. He walks away.

***

Jiang Cheng is more than a capable man; his cultivation is high and he has proper etiquette when the situation calls for it. He isn't one to shy away from responsibilities, or to ignore the problems the sect is facing (he rather likes to literally tackle them), so Wei Wuxian is confident that everything will go well. Jiang Cheng has become a true sect leader when he wasn't looking, after all.

“Did you threaten people for badmouthing the sect again?”

They've been back at Lotus Pier for a month now, and the repairs as well as the training of new disciples are still shaky. Taking care of the diplomatic aspects of running a sect is clearly not at the top of Wei Wuxian's list of hobbies. Spending time in town and drinking liquor is much more pleasant, though it means he also overhears some stupid and unsolicited remarks.

He shrugs, twirling Chenqing in his hands as he watches the water, perched on one of the many railings of Lotus Pier. The memory of seeing their terrified faces brings a wry smile on his lips.

“I didn't even know if they were from Yunmeng or merchants from outside. They couldn't stop talking so I just told them to keep it down.”

They both know it's an understatement. Jiang Cheng's face twists into a barely concealed fury.

“Don't you know what people say? They're saying that YunmengJiang sect is starting to become vicious and doesn't allow criticism! Like we're some sort of tyranny where every word is controlled!”

So what, Wei Wuxian wants to ask. Should they let the cultivation world think that the Jiang sect is too weak and can be trampled by the others, or assert their strength as soon as possible? Should they ignore the possibility of another Wen sect rising and trying to absorb the sects damaged by war? Fighting alongside allies doesn't necessarily lead them to believe they will remain on good terms. Wei Wuxian knows what people are capable of for power.

“Everything you say will reflect on the sect as a whole, so think before your mouth is running,” Jiang Cheng continues. “I've already told you that many times. Stop causing problems and help where you're actually needed.”

“Does our sect leader need his shixiong's help to take care of some matters?” Wei Wuxian teases, foregoing Jiang Cheng's advice about thinking before speaking, as usual.

The people of Yunmeng have worked relentless to rid Lotus Pier of the Wen's influence, and the rebuilding is going so smoothly nobody would think it was destroyed during a ruthless assault. It would be so easy to fall back into a routine, into habits of simpler times, if not for the way his mind is always burning and pushing him in all the wrong directions. They're not children anymore, but Wei Wuxian doesn't feel this is what he was supposed to live and see.

Jiang Cheng's fists clench at his sides. “Stop joking around. You're always off somewhere without telling us! Weren't you the one who said you'd stay by my side, like your father and mine?”

Chenqing stills in his hand, like frozen. Wei Wuxian slowly turns his head to look at Jiang Cheng—really look at him. It's like something cold dropped in his stomach and squeezed his body from inside out; he hasn't been able to look anyone in the eye ever since the end of the war, under the belief it will keep everyone's concerns and questions at bay if they couldn't read him. But the complete opposite happened, and he is now the one who can't decipher anything on anyone's face.

Jiang Cheng looks tired. He looks worn out, so strained at every edge of his face and body that it's a wonder he's still standing and screaming at his shixiong with the force of a bull. He has always been stubborn, after all.

Wei Wuxian quietly snorts and swings his legs over the railing to stand in front of Jiang Cheng.

“You're right, that's what I said.” His fingers keep toying with Chenqing, like it's just a regular dizi used for entertainment. “I didn't forget, I never forget my promises. Twin Heroes of Yunmeng, that's us!”

He waves Chenqing around, an easy smile stretching his lips even as Jiang Cheng doesn't look convinced in the slightest by his display of energy.

“You're our beloved sect leader, right? I'm only making sure people aren't underestimating you. You were born to be sect leader.”

You were raised to become one, he doesn't say, because it will open once again the gates of a talk they can't have—never could, and will never be able to. The reality is as it is, and they have more urgent matters to worry about than a discussion that won't ever find its closure.

“I'm only asking you to act like any normal person.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “But you've always been an idiot, so maybe I'm asking for too much.”

His scowl has softened, but his eyes are still glowing with irritation and impatience, unable to accept these half-answers to his half-questions. Wei Wuxian can't offer much else; he can only speak words from the bottom of his heart, words that will appease and build something more.

“I was looking out for you, but if that's what you want, I'll stop being the scary head disciple that terrorizes innocent cultivators and civilians alike,” he chuckles. There is no mirth.

Nothing changes on Jiang Cheng's face, so Wei Wuxian takes a step forward, and pats his shoulder—in the reassuring way he's always relied on to back up his words.

“Any great leader needs his right-hand man. I'm not going anywhere.”

Jiang Cheng's tense shoulders relax ever so slightly, and Wei Wuxian considers this a crisis averted. They have plenty of time to rebuild the sect, before showing to the world the Twin Heroes are to be admired. He has a home and a family to protect.

Perhaps he should have valued the weight of his words more.

[godaime-obito]

my fill for @kakaobiweek2019 day 10: juubito 

this one’s n-s-f-w fellas; a like to unofficially call it godaime-obito’s ‘the shape of chakra’

The world almost ended a few minutes ago. It may seem like he’s exaggerating, but it’s true. Undead Madara Uchiha, a plant monster/demon-thing, and various missing nin accomplices combined all the bijuu into one super bijuu aka the juubi, and then Madara was going to absorb it to… do something with it? Cast a moon genjutsu? Obito isn’t sure what they were doing. Madara explained it all in some monologue thing, but he stopped listening about a sentence in. It was boring. The plant-thing may have had completely different motives, but he tossed into through Kamui and into an empty pocket dimension, so that hardly matters anymore.

What does matter then? Well, in his effort to avoid Madara doing his moon thing Obito decided to just absorb it first. See him end the world then. Unfortunately, it was less like he absorbed it and more like he fused into it, and also it really, really hurt. Like he was disintegrated and reformed several times. On the up side, he does have cool claws and horns now.

The allied forces are just standing around and staring, seemingly confused about what to do. Obito fusing into a hybrid being with the juubi and then punting Madara away like he did the plant-thing is probably not how they envisioned this ending. It may seem a bit anti-climactic when you don’t have to go through the transformation process yourself. There’s a shift in the crowd and Kakashi pushes through and into his line of sight.

He stares when he first sees him before shrugging and very casually walking about to him. “Honey,” he says with more cheer than Obito thought any could muster at the moment, “the middle of battle is no time to bleach your hair white. Although, I understand if you wanted us to match.”

“Ha ha,” Obito deadpans. Mustering up his best imitation of Kakashi’s tone he adds, “I hope you’re ready to be a monster-fucker. At least you’re already pretty kinky, so this shouldn’t bother you.”

“Should I be bothered? The horns and claws are pretty sexy,” Kakashi jokes.

“No, you’re right. After years of suffering from severe scarring, I’m finally sexy,” he replies, “this is an upgrade.”

“You’ve always been sexy dear, but I will agree you are even more sexy now,” Kakashi says with a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura’s voice cuts through the crowd, “I’ve told you a thousand times not to be a perv in public.”

“You’re so mean to me. What happened to my cute little genin?” Kakashi whines.

Obito’s only participated in one other war, but he’s sure this is the weirdest conclusion to one that’s ever happened. And he’s going to have to adjust all his clothes to fit around his…skin… things…tails??

“Are we done with this war now? I want to go home and find a shirt that fits over my weird flaps and pointy bits,” Obito complains.

“Yes,” Sakura insists, “you two should just go home. Try to work out...” -she waves her hand in Obito’s direction- “…that.”

Sakura doesn’t necessarily have the authority for that, but Minato-sensei isn’t anywhere to be found. She’s practically the next in charge, right? She’s the most responsible. Obito decides it’s good enough and carefully grasps Kakashi’s arm with a clawed hand before whisking them away with Kamui.

They land on their bed with a thump. “We should consider moving into our own house instead of staying in this apartment. I don’t think I’m going to fit well anymore,” Obito observes. His horns and tail-things and everything are pretty cumbersome.

“Well…” Kakashi says, in a tone that hints he’s up to no good.

“Well, what?” Obito demands.

“If we’re going to move out, we should have a sort of reverse-christening,”

“A what?”

“Like a going away event,” Kakashi explains, “a final fucking.”

“Sakura’s right; you are a pervert.”

“A least I’m not in public anymore,” he replies.

“Touché.”

Kakashi presses his hands to Obito’s white chest. Then he starts caressing then over him, inch by inch, feeling out all of Obito’s new features. It’s strange, different from being touched before but not in a bad way. Everywhere Kakashi comes into contact with tingles, like there’s a force under his skin that’s rushing up to meet his hands wherever he touches Obito.

“I suppose a going away event is only appropriate,” Obito finally relents and pulls Kakashi up with his clawed hands. He may draw a little blood in the process, but he’s still adjusting to this body. He’s not surprised. Kakashi yanks down his mask and slips off his clothes as he slides closer to Obito, who already lost most of his clothes earlier. He cuts his mostly shredded pants with his claws and tosses them away.

Obito presses their lips together roughly. They kiss aggressively, and he can taste a little blood on his tongue. Kakashi has a tendency to nick him, having a bit of fang from being a Hatake, but now Obito has even bigger ones. It doesn’t slow them down. As normal as he’s been trying to act, he’s a bit off center and hyped up from the juubi; there’s a frantic feeling under his skin and he desperately wants to wash it away with the feeling of Kakashi against him, in him.

Kakashi breaks the kiss first, gasping for breath with shallow panting. His eyes focus in on Obito’s spikes shoulders and upper chest. He presses his fingers against them, caressing his thumb against the side of one of the spikes. Obito can feel it, just the same as if Kakashi was running his fingers up his side.

“Will you turn over for me?” Kakashi says breathily and wets his lower lip slowly with his tongue.

Obito nods and flips over to lay on his stomach. A few of his spikes tear into the mattress. They won’t be taking this to their new house when they move. Kakashi quickly distracts him from that line of thought, running his tongue down Obito’s back. He nips at his back at spots, especially near the new spikes and tail-protrusions, which are surprisingly sensitive. He shudders, but the goosebumps he normally gets aren’t there. Does he not get goosebumps anymore?

Luckily, Kakashi doesn’t give him long to worry about what he may or may not be able to do anymore, before his tongue dips down further. He licks teasingly along Obito’s left ass cheek and he jerks when Kakashi gives it a light teasing bite.

“I’m going to start biting you back now that I have fangs too asshole,” he stutters out looking over his shoulder to glare. Any effect that may have had is diminished by his heavy breathing, and how red and heated he is.

“Did you say asshole?” Kakashi replies with a grin. Obito has an idea of where this is going and he shudders in anticipation as his cheeks are pulled slightly apart, and the tail-protrusions pushes to the side.

He gasps out wordlessly and rips lines through the sheets and mattress with his nails as Kakashi presses his tongue past the ring of muscle. The wet heat inside of him, the feeling of Kakashi’s mouth on his ass makes it hard to focus. He somehow feels even hotter, and the world seem to blur at the edges.

Kakashi thrusts his tongue in and out, stopping occasionally to lick broadly over his hole. Obito’s knees are trembling and he can feel heat race up his spine with every thrust in. He’s certain that his whole body is flushes; it must look odd with his new pallid white skin. If this keeps up he’ll come like this and that won’t do.

“Enough,” he gasps out and kicks at Kakashi with one leg. “Get on with it; lube up and get inside me,” he orders in between breaths. Kakashi pulls away to reach for the lube. Obito wants to face him for the rest. He turns himself over to lie on his back with his legs spread. His spikes puncture the mattress again.

Obito bites back a moan as Kakashi presses into him with the cold lube. The sharp contrast of it to his tongue heightens his awareness of the feeling. He clenches his eyes shut and throws his head back, no longer bothering to muffle his moans as Kakashi’s fingers press gently against his prostate. Obito’s cock is already leaking from the slit, spreading precum across his stomach when Kakashi pulls his fingers out completely.

He directs Obito to hook his legs around his waist as he lines up his lube-slicked cock. Kakashi presses into him gently and he can feel every inch of him sliding in clearly. He sheathes himself fully, resting lightly against Obito’s prostate and leans forward to kiss him. He whimpers into Kakashi’s mouth and further destroys the bed with his claws, desperate for more. Then he pulls almost completely out and slams back in fiercely, quickly taking on an aggressive rhythm, his fingers nails press against his hips as he thrusts, having difficulty getting purchase on his smooth white skin.  Obito arches of the bed, overwhelmed at all the sensation. Kakashi’s bruising fingers grasping at him, Kakashi’s tongue thrusting against his, Kakashi’s dick slamming against his prostate over and over. It’s all just so much.

Tears leak out of the corner of Obito’s eyes as the world seems to fade out around him. The heat that’s been coiling in his abdomen overwhelms him and he cums in spurts as it ripples through him. He’s still trembling and panting raggedly when Kakashi stills, cumming in him with a low grunt. He pulls out gently, but doesn’t pull away from him at all. When Obito finally loosens and drops his legs from where they’d been desperately gripping his waist he leans forward and winds his arms around his neck.

Honestly, it’s horribly awkward; Kakashi doing his best to lay on Obito’s chest and hold him with all the points and spikes in his way, but after some minor finagling he manages just the same. Obito appreciates the persistence and effort. Despite everything Kakashi feels exactly the same. He reaches out and buries his fingers in his scalp, scratching delicately with his sharp nails. Kakashi lets out a content huff and Obito smiles feeling suddenly tired. He could probably get used to this. As long as he learns how to not destroy the mattress every time.

[curiosity-killed]

backstage

pure self-indulgent ballet AU fluff

Warnings: none Pairing: Shallura Word count: 3367

After the accident, he stayed away for so long because he thought it would hurt too much to see how much he’d lost. The moment he steps back into the studio, though, Shiro knows his fear was for nothing. It’s been years, and he is out of practice. His developpés aren’t as high, his leaps as long. When he gets done with class, his whole body is sore. But the joy that bubbles up in his chest like champagne – that is still exactly the same. Life is a little more vivid when he’s dancing, like everything is a little more real, a little more felt. His very soul sings. So when Allura asks him to help with the soloists, he’s happy to agree. He’s grown to like teaching, and it’s nice to give back to the academy. It’s also a good excuse to spend more time in the studio – and with Allura.

Lance and Pidge have grown so much since he danced with them that it’s a little disorienting to work with them. They’ve both become beautiful dancers, skilled beyond what he could have guessed when they were in middle school. Some things, though, haven’t changed.

“Shiro! Look!” He turns from his phone and blanches. Both Pidge and Lance wear blinding grins – it’s just that the former is upside down. Pidge hangs from Lance’s flexed arm by her knee, beaming. Shiro’s heart jolts. One wrong move and their Sugarplum Fairy is going to be in the hospital with a concussion. It’s his job to tell them to knock it off. On the other hand, though, it’s an impressive lift. Part of Shiro wants to try it out himself, and the other part is already thinking of how it could be incorporated into choreography. He’s seen something similar before on Instagram but never considered it an option in their studio. He settles on a compromise. “Lance, set her down – carefully!” he says. “We’re working on Nutcracker right now, not contemporary.” They give matching pouts but do as told, just in time for Allura to walk in. She catches the moment Pidge’s feet touch the ground and shoots Shiro a questioning look. He shakes his head slightly and mouths ‘later.’ She’s smiling as she turns to set her notebook down on the bench and start rehearsal. After one of the evening rehearsals, they wind up sitting on the floor together, sharing scars. Shiro’s is the more obvious, of course, but he can’t help wincing in shared pain as Allura tells him about her hip.

“It’s okay,” she says when she catches his expression. She stops herself and shakes her head slightly. “I mean, it’s not – it was awful when it happened. It felt like my whole body had betrayed me. But now, I don’t mind as much. I still get to dance, even if it’s not the way I once did. And I’ve grown stronger in ways I didn’t know I was weak. I don’t mind it so much anymore.” She says it with a gentle smile, as if she knows what Shiro was thinking. They’ve known each other for so long, she probably does. He can’t imagine her without dance. For years, she’d been the shining star of their studio, and she’d had such plans beyond their little city. Just thinking of the agony she had to feel at having her dreams brought down around her by some ice and an unlucky fall is nearly unbearable. It had to have been so much worse for her. “And now I get to dance with you again,” she adds. “It could have been much worse, in all.” It’s hard to believe he could ever make up for her loss, but the softness in her eyes when she looks at him almost makes Shiro believe it. Tech week comes before he’s ready, and the week itself is chaos. After it’s over, tech week always seem to be glazed in a golden highlight, and he’s surprised by how insane the week is. Neither Lance nor Pidge is the fussy type, and Shiro finds himself pleasantly surprised by how well they behave. He knows they’re more mature than they act when they’re allowed to let loose, but it’s still heartwarming to see them take on roles as leaders within the studio. More than once, he finds Pidge helping out with costumes backstage, and he even catches Keith and Lance working together to corral some of the younger kids. Keith spots him and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he turns back to their task. If Allura rests, it’s only in blinks. After receiving a text from her at two A.M. about the show, Shiro resolves to talk to her, but it’s hard to get a word in edgewise during rehearsal. There’s a lot of pressure on her, he knows; it’s the first winter since she took over the studio from Alfor, and the Nutcracker is a holiday tradition. Expectations are high, and if it doesn’t live up to them, the studio will suffer. Unlike a new show, people have a set image when it comes to this one. As Shiro’s mom used to say, people are a lot quicker to pick up on mistakes when it’s something they’ve seen a hundred times before. For Allura’s sake, the show needs to go perfectly. He picks up extra hours to help relieve some of Allura’s workload. He can’t do it all, he knows, but he can take care of things like paperwork and expense reports so she can focus on the show itself. If he winds up getting less sleep than he did in college – well, it’s only one week. He’ll manage. It works until Allura catches him on the Friday of tech, dark shadows under his eyes and double-shot in hand. She cocks an eyebrow, glancing between him and the coffee. “I’m fine,” he protests preemptively. “You need to sleep, Shiro,” she scolds. “If you run yourself down like this, you’ll get sick.” It’s a pretty obvious pot and kettle situation, and when he looks pointedly at the thermos in her hand, she flushes. “Fine!” she relents. “But only this time.” He grins and salutes with his travel mug, as if either of them actually believe that. Allura suppresses her smile only poorly. On the morning of the Saturday shows, Shiro finds himself crouched in the crossover reassuring Hunk. Their Snow King, it appears, has gotten cold feet. “What if I mistime it? What if I go too late and Shay gets hurt or go too early and she’s not ready,” he says. “Or if my grip isn’t right and she falls or – or –“ “Hunk.” He meets Shiro’s eyes with a startled look, as if he had forgotten Shiro was even there. Given how quickly Hunk’s mind works even when it isn’t fueled by anxious energy, Shiro wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs. “And listen. You’ve practiced this for months. You and Shay have done every step in this pas a hundred times over. Today, tonight – it’s no different. Your body knows the steps, knows how to do all the lifts and turns. You could do this in your sleep.” Hunk’s expression doesn’t look totally convinced; he side-eyes Shiro a little worriedly. Still, he exhales and gives a shaky little nod. With a sniff, he wipes at the tears under his eyes and gives another nod. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. Sorry, I – I just–” Shiro wraps his arm around Hunk’s shoulders and pulls him in for a partial hug. “Don’t worry about it, Hunk,” he soothes. “Everybody gets nervous. The fact that you keep going even when you’re scared just makes you brave.” There’s another sniff, and Hunk dunks his head. Shiro shifts his arm to gently rub circles into Hunk’s back. He’s always been the most anxious of the students, but he’s always pushed through, too. Shiro really does admire that about him. “Thanks Shiro,” he mumbles. “Of course, buddy,” he says. He gives Hunk’s shoulder one more squeeze. “Now come on, don’t want frozen toes out there.” Hunk laughs at that, a startled bubble of noise, and Shiro smiles in triumph. He helps Hunk up and leaves him to finish warming up. Backstage, it’s a madhouse of snowflakes and dolls in the middle of warming up. The matching tutus are interspersed with bright colored shrugs and striped legwarmers, and Keith stands out like a scarlet stoplight. From what Shiro can see, he appears to be in the middle of some sort of contest with one of the students that Shiro doesn’t know very well – James, by the name emblazoned on the back of his jacket. For a moment, Shiro debates breaking them up. They really don’t need any raised tensions on show day, and they definitely don’t need someone pulling a hamstring because they were forcing a heel-in-hand stretch. “You know, if we planned ahead, we could have quite a pas de deux with those two next semester.” He hadn’t heard Allura step up beside him, but he’d felt the warmth of her proximity. He looks over with a raised eyebrow, trying to see if she’s serious. She meets his gaze and gives a little shrug. “Think Violente but less peppy,” she offers. Her hair’s pulled up in a bun, the kind of sleek look that she’d do in two minutes flat before class back when they danced together. There’s no hairspray this time, though, and little wisps curl like frost against her cheeks. With the house lights backlighting her, she is luminous. “Or War, from Coppelia,” Shiro muses, turning back to the teenagers. In the time he was looking away, some conclusion must have come between the two; their legs have both returned to the ground, and James turns away from Keith with a dismissive hand gesture. Behind him, Keith looks a little smug. When he catches Shiro watching, though, a flush turns his cheeks pink and he quickly looks away. “I’ll go check on James,” Allura says. “Why don’t you check on Keith?” He gives a little salute, already headed over. Keith sees him coming and wrinkles his nose, as if expecting a lecture. Instead, Shiro reaches over to ruffle Keith’s hair; he has the entire first act to hairspray it back into place. “Shiro,” Keith whines, knocking his hand away. “You ready?” Shiro asks. Keith shrugs, nonchalant. He’s always been small, and that doesn’t seem likely to change, but he’s grown a lot in the last three years. It’s like all that anger and fear had somehow condensed him, pulled into something tightly wound and ready to spring. Now, though, it’s relaxed to let him settle and fill out into a confident young man and leader. “Sure,” he says. “Romelle and I’ve done it a hundred times.” The contrast with Hunk makes Shiro smile a little. He ignores that in favor of giving his best friend a little grief. “You two do make a good couple,” he remarks. “Lot of chemistry there.” “The height helps,” Keith says, oblivious. “Couple years ago, I would’ve been too short for her.” “But now you’re a perfect match,” Shiro continues. He can see the moment Keith catches on; he straightens slightly and his eyes narrow just-so. Grinning, Shiro presses a little further. “You know Arabian has a history of getting couples together,” he points out. “Zethrid and Ezor, Colleen and Sam, even Zarkon and Haggar…” “You and Allura,” Keith chimes in. Shiro stammers, caught off-guard. He should’ve known better, but he wasn’t prepared for Keith to retaliate. Now, his fumbling just makes it more embarrassing; he can feel his cheeks heating up scarlet. “Well, it doesn’t always work that way,” he finishes lamely. “Mhm,” Keith says, a little smug. “Sounds like it’s not the role after all.” In lieu of a better response, Shiro knocks their shoulders together and lets it go. Keith grins. They’re quiet together for a few moments, watching the little kids file up from the dressing rooms in their satin dresses and little suits. The adults are already up in the wings, coupled up, and Shiro catches sight of Sam and Colleen Holt across the way. He lifts his hand in a wave, and they both beam as they wave back. “You know, you could’ve done it this year,” Keith says. Shiro looks over, a little startled by the non sequitor. Keith isn’t looking at him; he’s shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and popped one foot forward in a half-hearted calf stretch. “Even if you didn’t want to do Cavalier or whatever, you could’ve done Snow or Arabian still,” Keith continues. “Russian, even.” Shiro cants his head, considering. Keith’s not wrong; though Shiro’s out of practice, he could have pushed himself enough to do one of the variations at least. He’s done all of them enough times that he can still mark the choreography in his dreams. “Maybe,” he agrees. “But I’d rather ease back in than stress myself out trying to get up to that level so soon. Anyway, you guys deserve the roles you got. I wouldn’t want to take one of them away from you out of some weird seniority.” There’s also a part of him that would feel wrong about dancing any of the duets while Allura was forced to watch from the wings. He’s danced with others before, and he loves ballet for more than his partners. But Allura is special. If he were to come back to his home studio to perform now, after everything, he would want to share it with her. He opts not to tell Keith that. “I should go check in with Ro,” Keith says, straightening up. “She wanted to go over opening again.” Beyond them, past the bright lights of the stage, Shiro can hear the overture start. The audience is hushed and the wings filled only with whispers. Excitement prickles across his nerves like little drops of light. “If I don’t see you before, I know you’ll do great,” he says. “Just remember to breathe and not rush.” “Yeah, yeah, patience,” Keith interjects, teasing. He’s smiling, though, and Shiro knows he isn’t actually annoyed. Reaching out, he gives Keith’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Merde,” he says. Keith replies with his hand on Shiro’s arm and a smile, and then they separate. Now that it’s showtime, Shiro doesn’t have an official station. The volunteers and parents have commandeered the quick change area, and the wings are cleared of everyone but crew and dancers. He helps where he’s needed backstage and watches Arabian from the wings, cheering when Keith and Romelle finish the grueling dance. Keith grins as he enters the wing, and Shiro tugs him into a big hug, sweat and all. For the rest of the show, though, he finds himself watching the TV in the crossover. It’s quiet and still, and he’s out of the way of the people who are actually working here. They’re in the middle of Waltz of the Flowers when Allura finds him. “Are you hiding?” she asks. He turns to her with a laugh, a little startled. He hadn’t heard her enter. "Just trying to stay out of the way," he admits. "I'm not used to not having a job." Allura breathes out a laugh and walks over to join him. She bumps her shoulder into his arm gently and smiles. "It does leave you at a bit of a loss for what to do," she agrees. On the TV screen, Dewdrop twirls across stage in a series of pique turns that culminates in a back-breaking arabesque as the corps re-enters. "She's grown so much this last year," Allura remarks. "They all have, really. I'm so proud of how they've stepped up this year." "They've had a great role model to lead them," Shiro says, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him with a smile that's soft and intimate and sets something warm unfurling in his chest. If he leans a little more into where their arms touch, there's no one here to tell. Onscreen, the waltz comes to an end in a flurry of swirling pink tutus and the crowd erupts in applause as they dance offstage. It grows quiet, then, anticipation hushing the audience both in the seats and in the wings. Pidge and Lance step from the shadows in graceful unison, as if they were formed of the very same essence. The smiles they wear aren't the giddy grins of the younger dancers but something a little subtler, almost regal. Beside him, Allura lets out a little sigh. It’s half contentment and half something like wist. Looking up at the TV, there’s no envy in her expression but perhaps something like nostalgia. Remembering the last time she danced it, perhaps, or maybe the last time she walked across that stage as something other than a teacher. On a whim, Shiro offers out his hand. Allura looks up, surprised. He smiles. “C’mon,” he offers. “It’s been ages,” Allura protests. “I probably can’t even do most of it.” Shiro shrugs but doesn’t drop his hand. “So it’ll just be for us,” he says. “There’s no audience here.” For a moment longer, it seems she really will say no. Then, she relents with a little smile as she sets her hand delicately over his and steps into a sous-sus to match Pidge’s on the TV. Her leg unfolds to ninety degrees instead of the high developpé onscreen, and her tennis shoes squeak against the floor as he turns her in a promenade. When she goes to pirouette, the sole sticks against the marleyed floor, and they both have to stifle laughter. It’s no performance for the history books or even for the stage. It was never meant to be. It’s only for the two of them. The old familiar steps look a little different now than they did six years ago when they last performed them. The way their bodies move through them has changed, but they meet each other in the middle and gently reacquaint themselves. They’ve each grown while apart, but it seems they grew in the same directions; moving together comes as easily as if they were born to it. The last lift turns into more of a hug than any real step, and Allura is laughing softly as Shiro spins her around with her arms extended and face tilted toward the light. Her delight sets a smile over his lips, enchanted. As the music softens to a close, he lets her slip carefully down through his arms till her feet touch the ground. Her arms follow, settling around his shoulders. One hand just barely brushes through the short hair at the nape of his neck. There’s a flush warming her cheeks, and her eyes are lit with the blue of the crossover lights. Curls have escaped her bun and fall gently against her cheeks. Neither one of them makes a move to separate. Allura’s hand slides forward to cup his jaw, her head tilting slightly. She glances up at him just once, as if to ask permission. He gives it freely. It’s a gentle kiss, nearly chaste. Her lips are soft and he can feel the bite of her chapstick on his own – mint and beeswax, the kind she’s always worn. His hand spreads against the low of her back, pulling her closer to him, and hers curls in his hair. Her thumbtip brushes against the edge of his scar, sending a little shiver through his skin. They separate just briefly and only so far as to let them both catch their breath. “Thank you, Takashi,” she murmurs. “You never have to thank me for anything,” he answers, leaning back in. The music of Lance’s solo starts, and Shiro knows they should watch. He’s been working hard for this, and they should be there to cheer both him and Pidge on in their moment in the spotlight. They will – in a moment. For right now, Shiro lets himself ignore the TV and the stage and the audience far beyond. The only star he needs is right here in his arms.