#shut the heck up annie

[hyperfix-wip]

Webbed Together

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I HAVE FINALLY GOT THIS CHAPTER DONE!!! 😭 I'd like to thank @pinksugarscrub for being so patient with me and for beta reading for me! Credit goes to @the-kr8tor for their original characters Ramona and Billie.

Tags: Parent Trap!AU, Dad!Hobie AU, Twin!AU, Billie and Ramona!AU, Older!Hobie, Mom!Reader, Older!Reader

Chapter 4: Stand Up

Rubber soles slap against dirt as Annie sprints towards the infirmary. Fiery short locks whip against the momentum the faster she runs, thick frames bouncing against the bridge of her nose and sweat building up on her forehead.

The moment Annie heard that Billie went to the infirmary after her private clarinet lesson, she ran straight out their shared cabin and across the campgrounds to the infirmary, dodging any unsuspecting campers and counselors along the way. Her heart pounds against her ribcage as her feet propel her faster, her mind riddled with worry for her friend.

Annie’s feet then skids across the dirt, small gravel and dust flying everywhere, before she runs into the infirmary. Weaving around the bewildered elderly nurse through the doorway, she instantly spots a mane of dark curls in the corner of her eye, where before her is a familiar figure gently bobbing her head with an mp3 player in her hand with a boy lying in the infirmary bed.

“Billie!”

Annie storms into the room and grabs the girl from her chair, oblivious to the startled boy in the bed while standing on her tiptoes and shaking the tall girl by the shoulders.

“Billie, what the heck happened?!” Annie yells, her hands clamped onto skinny shoulders while she jostles the girl back and forth. “Cindy told me you went over here after playing volleyball with Benny and his friends! Did he hit you in the head or something? Do you have a concussion or–”

Annie continues to jabber on with her interrogation while shaking the poor girl, not noticing the lack of piercings on her ears nor the lack of punk flair in her clothes.

“But not only are you fine, but you’re just chilling here listening to music with a boy!” Annie huffs with her cheeks puffed out and her brows furrowed. “When the heck did that happen?! Who is he, and when were you planning on telling me?! What the heck is going–”

“Uh, Annie?”

Annie instantly freezes at the familiar British accent behind her. Her hands still clutching onto the girl’s shoulders, she slowly looks over her shoulder to see Billie standing under the doorway, staring at her with a confused tilt to the head. “What are you doing?...”

Annie’s eyes nearly break through her glasses when she sees her friend before turning her attention back to the disoriented Ramona, who quietly groans while her head lolls around from the sudden outburst from the shorter redhead.

A long silence lingers in the room as Annie looks back and forth between the two girls, the wave of disbelief washing over her face until–

“...WHO THE HELL IS THIS?!”

—

Annie’s face is frozen in a perplexed frown as she stares at the sight in front of her, ignoring the wary and injured Arnold as she sits on the edge of his bed.

Two Billies– or Billie and Ramona, as Billie reminds Annie. One in her familiar punk band-tee and with her cat-like smile, and the other smiling sheepishly at her in a white, cherry-decorated sweater. The sight of Annie’s perplexed stare elicits a snicker from Billie before she tries to speak.

��Oh c’mon, Annie–”

“Shut up.”

Billie presses her lips together and holds her hands up in surrender, but she struggles to stifle her snickers as Annie shoots a sharp glare at her. The latter then turns to Ramona, who flinches from the intense scrutiny of the redhead. Despite having more than half a foot on her, Ramona is instantly intimidated by the short redhead.

“...so you two don’t know each other?”

Ramona quickly shakes her head no.

“And you barely met each other when your friend–” Annie points her thumb over to the flitty Arnold– “got hit in the head by a volleyball?”

A quick shake yes.

“And all of this is just a coincidence for you guys?”

Another quick nod.

Annie stares at the shrinking Ramona, as if studying a new specimen in a science experiment, before she sighs in resignation. “Okay, I guess.”

“ ‘m sorry– what? Jus’ like ‘at?” 

Billie drops her smirk and squawks in indignation as her eyes narrow at her friend, her British accent briefly growing stronger. “You weren’t like ‘is when I told you!”

Annie instantly glares at Billie, her face scrunching up into a demon-like scowl as she stands up from poor Arnold’s bed. “Because she’s not laughing her ass off about it, unlike how you told me! I mean, wouldn’t you be freaking out about seeing somebody else with your face? Actually– why aren’t you freaking out more?!”

Arnold meekly backs away as much as he could against the headboard from the quick temper of the redhead, and Ramona looks between the two friends with worry, but Billie just barks up a carefree laugh before pulling Annie into a bear hug.

“Oh c’mon now, Annie! No need to throw a fit ‘bout ‘is,” Billie grins as she rocks Annie side-to-side, with the redhead scrambling but failing to get out of her embrace like an annoyed tabby cat. “Sure, ’s a little weird seeing someone looking like me if I was in those cheesy clothing ads–”

“Hey–”

“But we can’t just lose our marbles over it like a bunch of ninnies,” Billie continues with a goodhearted wave of a hand to Ramona. “ ‘sides, ‘s a small world! My dad always says to expect the unexpected and take things in stride–”

Annie finally yanks herself away from Billie’s grasp with a gasp, her glasses askew and her hair in a ruffled mess, before her face scrunches up into an annoyed glare. “I don’t think this is what your dad had in mind when he said that–”

“Either way, we’ on it like a car bonnet,” Billie reassures Annie with a cheeky grin. “We already went through the whole freakout session: pinching each other, yanking our hairs, waiting for the whole world to end, the whole nine yards–”

“With two of the three done one-sidedly–”

Billie playfully pouts at Ramona’s retort, who gives a deadpan in return. 

A quiet cough interrupts the three-way conversation, and all three turn to the forgotten boy in the room with a mix of exasperation (Annie), confusion (Ramona), and amusement (Billie). Arnold flushes sheepishly at their full attention as he pulls the covers over his body.

“C-can one of you g-guys get me– get me an icepack?...”

Ramona’s eyes soften as she crosses the room for the mini refrigerator to grab one, meanwhile Annie looks over at him with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that,” Annie adjusts herself on the edge of the bed to face Arnold. “You feeling okay, though? I heard from a lot of kids that Benny has a strong arm.”

Arnold shrugs just as Ramona approaches him with a Ziplock full of ice, which he gratefully takes from her before putting it on his forehead. “I think so. The nurse told me I don’t have a concussion, but the swelling will stay for a few days–”

“That guy was kinda being a jerk, though,” Ramona huffs out, her face scrunched up into a slight frown. “He didn’t even say sorry to Arnold or anything, just laughed about it.” Ramona then turns to Billie with her brows furrowed even more. “Can’t you talk to Benny or something? You’re his friend, aren’t you–”

“Now hang on, he ain’t my mate,” Billie holds her hands up in surrender, her cheeky grin dropping to a more solemn frown. “I was only there with him because I was on free time, ‘n I didn’t have anything else to do. Barely met the bloke today, but he was bein’ an arse the whole time we were playing. Thought everyone else was gonna tell him off, but they were actin’ like his lackeys or somethin’.”

Billie then crosses her arms and scrunches up her nose in annoyance. “By the time poor Arnie over here–”

“Arnie?”

“Yes, you, Arnie– anyway, by the time Arnie got hit in the head, I was already sick of being around those prats, so I just legged it with you guys.”

As Billie finishes, Ramona crosses her arms against her chest with a frustrated huff, her forehead wrinkling up while her face curls up into a deeper frown. “Still, someone has to tell him off. He can’t just do that and then laugh the whole thing off.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of an asshole move,” Annie adds on. “And the rest of the kids with him are no better, laughing it off with him instead of checking up on Arnie– it’s okay to call you Arnie, right?”

“I–”

“Anyway,” Annie cuts off the confused Arnold, “Benny shouldn’t get away with that. Did you guys talk to a counselor about this at least?”

“I tried earlier,” Ramona grumbles, her face pinching up into a frustrated frown, “but for some reason the counselors won’t listen. Like as soon as I say Benny’s name, they either brush me off or look like they just saw a monster and just run off…”

“Maybe he’s some rich trust fund kid, like in those old cheesy teen movies my Uncle James watches,” Billie mutters under her breath with a crinkle to her nose, now sitting down on a chair beside the infirmary bed while absently fidgeting with a small B-shaped charm on her chain bracelet. “His parents pro’lly donated a lot of money or sumthin’ to the camp, so the counselors look the other way when he causes trouble.” When her input is only met with silence, she glances up to the rest of the group staring at her with confusion and disbelief.

“... ‘m just sayin’, that could be it.”

Ramona only sighs before she turns back to the rest of the group. “Well either way, the counselors are no help, and Benny doesn’t seem like he’s sorry about it–”

“Maybe we should just drop it,” Arnold mumbles out as he pulls the makeshift ice pack from his forehead with a defeated face. “What if we make things worse–”

“Yeah, no, not an option, Artie,” Billie interrupts before she pushes herself up from her seat and rests her hands on his shoulders. “If you let anyone like Benny hurt ya and get away with it, then he gon’ keep doin’ it to ya. He gon’ t’ink it’s okay to take a piss at ya, slag off at ya–”

“I don’t like how either of those sound–”

“He gon’ keep bullying ya if ya don’ stand up fo’ yaself,” Billie shuts Arnold down with a stern frown. “Tha’s not sumthin’ ya should put up wit’ the whole time ya here. And not only he gon’ do it to ya, but he gon’ do it to other kids too at some point. And before he gon’ reach that point, we gotta nip that in the bud ‘n make sure that don’ happen.”

Arnold hesitantly stares up at Billie before turning to Ramona, who only shrugs in response. “I mean, Billie does have a point. It’ll just get worse if you don’t say anything…”

She then sits on the other side of the bed and gently bumps her shoulder against his, the corners of her lips quirking up into a small smile. “But you got us to help you. You don’t have to deal with Benny alone.”

Arnold glances between the two girls in front of him with uncertainty before darting his eyes down to his hands clutching onto the ice-filled ziplock bag. “Can one of you guys take a step back please? It’s still a little weird for me to see the two of you together…”

Billie’s eyes narrow as her face reverts to an annoyed deadpan, but she lets go of Arnold’s shoulders and steps back with her hands up. “Just know that you’re avoidin’ the subject, mate–”

“Billie–”

“ ‘m just sayin’, Mon-mon–”

“I’m sorry– Mon-mon?”

“Okay, you two,” Annie cuts in with a huff, “we’re losing track of what the actual issue is. We all want Benny to not act like an asshole and apologize to Arnie, but apparently he has some Regina George power over people here. How are we gonna deal with that?”

Everyone in the room grows silent for a moment, the sounds of children talking outside echoing into the infirmary room until–

“We could all go up to him and give him a piece of our minds–”

“I don’t think jumping him would do Arnie any good, Billie–”

“We’re not gon’ jump him!” Billie denies with an offended scowl as she narrows her eyes at Annie. “We’re jus’ gon’ make it known tha’ Arnie was miffed off and ain’t gon’ take any more of his crap–”

“Wait, I just said I don’t want to make things worse–”

“Letting him get away with it will make it worse, Arnold–”

“But–”

“C’mon, Arnie,” Billie groans as she flops down across the bed, making sure not to land on Arnold’s legs, “ya can’t just let Benny do tha’ ta ya ‘n then laugh at ya face. Ya gotta do sumthin’ to stop it from happenin’ again. Personally, I’d–”

A loud knock suddenly echoes in the room, and all four of the kids look over to the doorway, where an elderly woman with a white lab coat hobbles inside with her cane tapping along the tile flooring.

“Now, now, kiddies, you shouldn’t be crowding the poor boy like this,” the elderly nurse tuts at the girls as she slowly approaches Arnold, making all three of them get off the bed while the nurse gently presses her fingertips against the bump on Arnold’s head. “He may be fine in the head, but he still needs to rest and not get too excited while the swelling goes down. You girls should run off to your activities in the meantime.”

Billie’s face and shoulders drop at the nurse’s words. “But–”

A hand gently grasps on Billie’s shoulder, and she looks over to a sympathetic Ramona before she looks over to the nurse with an apologetic smile. “We’re sorry, ma’am. We’ll be on our way.”

Ramona then glances over to Arnold, concern and reluctance lingering in her eyes. “Get better soon, okay Arnold? Just meet up with us if you get cleared later.”

She then gently pushes a disgruntled Billie, who still tries to go back to talk to Arnold in vain, to the door while Annie hesitantly follows behind with a sheepish wave to him. “We’ll come back with some snacks or something, Arnie!” Annie calls out before she closes the door behind them.

—

“What the bloody hell, you two?!” Billie huffs out as she stomps out of the infirmary and onto the campgrounds, with a weary Ramona and a distracted Annie– who zips up her fanny pack and opens a granola bar– following her. “Why’d ya pull me outta there?! We’re not done talkin’ ‘bout this wit’ ‘im–”

“Calm down, Billie,” Ramona cuts her off with a sigh, scuffing her converses against the gravel. “Arnold’s still hurt, and if the nurse didn’t come in, we would’ve overwhelmed him too much. Besides, even if we did get Arnold to agree, we don’t know what could happen if we all went up to Benny and confronted him about it. That’ll just be too much stress for Arnold to deal with.”

“Yeah, but–”

Annie suddenly pops up by Billie’s side and shoves the granola bar into her mouth, effectively silencing the vexed punk girl as she drops her shoulders and reluctantly eats it with a grumble.

“And even if we did confront him, it just sounds like he and his goons will just brush us off,” Annie sighs with her arms crossing against her chest. “We’d probably have to figure out a way to get him to listen…”

Billie huffs out through her nose in annoyance as she begins to walk off and gobble up the granola bar, having the two girls follow her until they are side by side. “I’d personally like ta throw a ball at his head, see how he likes it.”

“Violence isn’t the answer, Bills–”

“Neither is sittin’ back and letting him do whatev’a he wants–”

As both girls continue to bicker, Ramona glances over to the side and spots a crowd of kids gathering at one of the benches near the boys’ cabins, her feet slowing down into a stop as she stares at the area with curiosity. Along the outskirts of the crowds Ramona’s eyes drift down to some of the kids’ hands– wallets, handfuls of bills, tied-up filled socks– and she slowly separates from Billie and Annie as she approaches the buzzing flock in front of her. The closer she gets to the cabin area, the clearer she hears the murmurings and familiar grating laughter from before. Once she finally joins the stragglers outside the crowd, she can easily see over the numerous kids clamoring to the center, where she spots Benny cackling and throwing a hand of five cards down the bench and shoveling a pile of bills and coins to himself to the groaning dismay of the people sitting on the table with him.

Ramona tilts her head to the side in confusion before turning to a short boy hopping next to her as he tries to peek over a taller kid’s shoulders.

“Uh, hey,” Ramona gently taps on the shorter kid’s shoulder, briefly stealing his attention away from the card game. “What’s going on here?”

The disgruntled boy strains his neck up to stare at her wide-eyed, briefly distracted by the tall girl in front of him, before shaking his head and struggling to peek over again. “There’s this older kid who’s playing a poker game tournament, and he said that whoever beats him in a game of poker can get whatever they want from him.”

A few kids start to make their way out of the crowd with disappointment painted on their faces while the mass of kids start to clamor closer to replace any empty spots in the middle. “So far none of the boys won against him yet,” the kid continues, “but the older kid Benny said anyone who thinks they can beat him can join in–”

“Oh, really?”

Ramona jolts up in surprise and turns her head to the side, only to see Billie draping her arm over her shoulder. A wickedly mischievous glint shines in the punk girl’s eyes while a Cheshire Cat-like grin curls up on her lips, sending a dreadful chill down Ramona’s spine.

“Anyone can play?”

----

British Phrase of the Chapter:

On it like a car bonnet - can be used by someone who thinks they are in control of a situation

Legged it - made a run for it

Take a piss - be sarcastic to or mock

Slag off - verbally make fun of someone

Miffed - confused or annoyed

References:

https://www.stgeorges.co.uk/23-typical-british-expressions-you-must-learn-to-understand-the-brits/

https://www.oxfordinternationalenglish.com/dictionary-of-british-slang/

https://tandem.net/blog/british-slang-words

[medli-komali]

AOT Characters as Babies Headcanons:

Inspired by the baby official art just posted!

Eren - breaks every single toy which doesn't make a lot of sense since he's actually an infant?

Mikasa - perfect angel until you take away her blankie (scarf). Then WATCH OUT.

Armin - will not stop crying when you leave the room until you come cuddle him, and how could you not?

Jean - cries the second you give another human, animal, or object your attention

Levi - never cries to the point it's a little concerning

Erwin - stubborn but other than that PERFECT angel baby who sleeps through the night and never fusses

Hange - starts walking and talking at an alarmingly young age

Reiner - superhuman strength for a tiny infant, cannot be contained

Sasha - hungry 24/7, obviously. Nursing mom watch out, she's going to bite your nipple HARD.

Connie - the most giggly baby you've ever met who will not stop babbling

Annie - perfectly content on her own, only lets you hold her for one minute until she's scrambling to get the heck out of there

Bertoldt - growing VERY quickly but thankfully he's very chill and quiet

Floch - so horrible to live with that you can't keep a sitter, and he's not even a toddler yet. God help you

Pieck - crawls at the speed of light, you look up and she's across the room in 0.5 seconds

Porco - this baby is mean mugging 24/7

Falco - perfectly well behaved but VERY nimble

Colt - also well behaved, being around his family calms him down instantly

Gabi - you have yet to find a crib, carrier, or play set that can contain her. Do not let this baby out of your sight.

Historia - you have to fight off people telling you how pretty your baby is when you go into public. The child could be a baby food model.

Ymir - cries the second a man gets within 10 feet of her

Marco - the most perfect baby to ever exist. Sleeps through the night. Lives for cuddles. Smile makes you melt.

Onyankopon - never before has a baby been so mesmerized by "here comes the plane"

Hitch - sleeps through the night but will NOT shut up once she's awake. Expect a LOT of tantrums but also a lot of giggle fits.

Zeke - he will throw absolutely EVERYTHING at you, food, toys, blanket, you name it. Dinner time is always a mess.

[moonspirit]

Hi, moon. I am with you on Armin being silly and making lame jokes to make annie smile or to tease her. Everytime I see manga Armin (specially those arts where he looks like a goofball.)I can see that.

Versatility, like, he can tell Annie some silly jokes, but at the same time he can come up with some very dark humor as well.

Yesss exactly!!

I just really like to imagine, that in an established relationship, where Armin is slightly more confident with himself around Annie and in their relationship together, that as bored as she looks all the time, she still listens to every word he says. 

So it happens maybe, that one night in bed, he's reading aloud some boring political history book with Annie beside him, and she doesn't seem to be interested in the least, with her eyes closed or maybe flipping through a book of her own. It's important work he has to be getting done, but he's tired and exhausted with a headache coming along; it also seems like a much better use of his time to just cuddle Annie and focus on her - but there's a deadline, so with quiet frustration, he keeps reading and ends up making an irritated joke about something the book says. 

And she laughs. 

It's small, a barely-there chuckle, and all evidence of it is gone from her face before he can blink twice. 

"What?" She asks him, and he says, "Well, you laughed."

Annie shrugs with another tiny smile on her face "I mean... it was funny. The way you said it."

Well of course it was funny, he thinks, fascinated. But it was also dumb as fuck. 

From then on, he makes it a point to crack jokes. Good ones, smart ones, intelligent ones. And she rolls her eyes, smiles or chuckles at all of them, but it's only the really bad ones that make her laugh. 

It's the brightest thing he's ever seen - Annie, with her eyes shut tight, little wrinkles on her nose, lips pulled apart to reveal pearly white teeth and rosy gums, and her clear, tickled laughter filling every corner of the room, or carrying in the breeze out in the open if that's where they are. 

It helps that he gives her silly little nicknames like 'Annie Bear' that make her shrink with embarrassment while he hugs her from behind in the kitchen - because he's so, so lame. Little coos of "Annie Bear, you're so sweet~" evolve gradually into terrible bear jokes when he proceeds to dump his knowledge of bears and how they build their families. Naturally that begs the question (tho she's not asking), that if she's the Mama bear and he's the Papa bear, where the heck are the baby bears? At this point she's so fed up with him and the innocent-straight face he's pulling, but she's also bending over with her shoulders shaking with laughter and the fork in her hand that she was planning on poking him off with, is now rendered useless. 

Of course, he gets bonus points for adding sexual innuendo to the awful jokes he makes and teasing her in the process for clearly getting turned on in addition to the laughter, eventually succeeding in pissing her off so much that she drags him to the bedroom and shuts him up. A success indeed, because he really enjoys that as well. 

(ignore the heavy Papamin vibes in this one, I'm currently sick with papamin fever.)

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles 2023

Day 8 - Ignorance

(Oops! Life got a taaaaaad busy there! Between having to finish a heck ton of designs and products for a market, several days of travel, restless sleep and a birthday, there wasn't really any time to write! I'm gonna do my best to get back on track now though~)

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

QueerPlatonic PolyQuad Krook House Crew - ModernHuman AU

“Get FUCKED, scum twatter!”

With a satisfied smirk, Anni watched the scowling little old lady turn with a huff, more than glad to see the back of the nasty ass hag.

“That was a little harsh, don't you think?”

“Letters, you know I love your sunshiny ass, but shut the fuck up.”

Fresh Cut Grass gave a slight huff, staring up at their beloved crusty punk of a partner, watching as she flipped off a gruff looking middle aged man, her glare almost daring him to come say something. And perhaps he would have, if it weren't for Ashton right behind her, cracking his knuckles something fierce, managing to look threatening even with Milo curled up in their lap, nose deep in a textbook thicker than their thighs.

“I just don't- I’m not saying that-” they tried, starting and stopping, failing to get his words out just right. “I know she was- That people tend to be a tad…”

“Ignorant?” Milo interjected with, not even looking up as they let the page flutter over to the next.

“Shitty?” Ashton added, reaching over to thread their fingers through Fresh Cut Grass’ bouncy locks, scratching at their scalp in a way that always had him melting in seconds.

“Deserving of a swift kick to the shins?” Anni finished with little flourish of her combat boots, skidding a foot across the grass before settling back into place, leaning heavily into Fresh Cut Grass’ side.

“Rude! I was gonna say rude!” They cried out, a familiar exasperation dripping from each and every word. Yet there was no bite to it, no true annoyance to be heard, this old song and dance so deeply familiar to them all.

After all, no one really understood them.

Too close to be friends.

But distinctly lacking in romance and lust.

And yet, the love they all shared was undeniable.

No others were allowed to touch Ashton in such a way, their flesh only connecting with most through flurries of blows. Only their crew was allowed the privilege of gentleness, of warm, heavy embraces and ever so gentle hands, as large and powerful as they were, tenderly holding, patting and stroking.

Only they were worth that pain.

Who else could draw Milo from the safety and comfort of their own home? The outside world was so bright and noisy, full of people who always threw funny looks their way. Away from their beloved projects and personal coffee blend that only Ashton, Anni and Letters knew how to make juuust right.

Yet here they were, outside on a sunny day, in the middle of a public park.

Only they were worth the mental energy.

Anni notoriously got along with just about nobody. People were a pain in the ass. They didn't like her crass sense of humor. They only ever tended to like her when she was performing. But her music, her art, was deeply personal to her, and outside of actual gigs, no one got to hear her play.

Nor did they get to see beneath the brashness. The loyal heart that lay beneath.

Only they were worth trying for.

Fresh Cut Grass loved hugs and going out and meeting all kinds of people! By all means they should have been surrounded by a plethora of love!

But they had been burned before, both metaphorically and, well, physically. He had felt loss. Felt abandonment. Felt lost and alone and so so afraid.

It had been Ashton and Anni and Milo who had put him together again, who never gave up on them, who fought against a world so big and cruel, just to keep them safe.

Just to see Fresh Cut Grass smile again.

Only they were worth that fractured trust.

“Rude is fair too,” Milo agreed, finally setting their book down to peer over at their partner, throwing them an understanding smile. “Honestly, all those answers were. People are assholes when they don't understand something. I think we all know that pretty well. I for one, can't really complain about ignorant bastards getting what’s coming for them. Anni and Ashton need some kind of healthy outlet for all that pent up rage.”

“You saying I can punch a mother fucker?”

“Not unless you have bail money ready. I am not spending my afternoon trying to get your ass out of an arrest AGAIN, Anni.”

“Booooo, you whore!”

“Can't get arrested if you punch them hard enough that the fucker can't even remember their own name.”

“Ashton! You promised, no more fights this week!

“Ain’t a fight if they never punch back,” Ashton retorted with a shit eating grin. Fresh Cut Grass crossed their arms in turn, before playfully flicking the very tip of his nose.

“You know what I was meanin’! Only necessary violence allowed, like self defense or wrestlin’ street alligators!”

“... Do I even want to ask where that shit came from?”

“Street alligators? Oh! Well I was watchin’ YouTube late last night…”

“Late night conspiracy vids. Got it.”

Under the shade of an old oak tree, upon a fluffy old blanket, they four of them continued on, voices overlapping, intermingling as their bodies did aa well. Their touches casual, yet still intimate. Lingering without complaint, with familiar comfort.

Like this was all they ever needed.

Like, together, they were home.

And that was something worth the scorn, the cruel whispers and willful ignorance.

After all, nothing else quite mattered outside of them.

[synodicsean]

I'm ALIVE

[randomsmilingpotatoes]

wait it’s been february all day and i didn’t even notice 

[shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees]

Bored at work. Threw this into a Shakespearian translater (like x)

carryeth on mine wayward son

For there'll beest peace at which hour thee art done

Lay thy weary headeth to rest

Don't thee cry no more

Once I rose above the hurtling and confusion

Just to receiveth a glimpse beyond the illusion

I wast soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Though mine eyes could see I still wast a blind sir

Though mine mind could bethink I still wast a mad sir

I heareth the voices at which hour lest I dreamin', I can heareth those folk sayeth

carryeth on mine wayward son

For there'll beest peace at which hour thee art done

Lay thy weary headeth to rest

Don’t thee cry no more

[theangrycomet]

Things with Ben 10 and Generator Rex Crossovers that are never done but SHOULD be.

A presentation: Seriously I am BEGGING you guys to use these.

Van Kliess making aliens EVO (Specifically Gwen or Rook; Kevin’s gone through enough of that BS)

Gatlocke and Animo working together

Rex accidentally expanding Rook’s armor and making it fall off when trying to “cure” him

Argit and Bobo hatching a scheme to make them rich (success varies)

Caesar and Holiday being FASCINATED at the xenobiology of all the aliens. Like, all of it but with Team Tennyson? I’m thinking Caesar firing question after question to Rook while he’s forcing his jaw open to look at his teeth while Holiday’s trying to figure out how the heck Kevin’s just absorbing solid material.

Rex using Kevin’s car as a weapon or as ammunition

Aliens and EVO’s being mistaken for one another

MALWARE TRYING TO GET REX’S METANANITES AND INSTEAD POSSESSING HIM. God there is a WEALTH of untapped angst here

Rex getting arrested by the Plumbers and Six kicking every Plumber’s ass (including Team Tennysons) to break him out.

Rex flirting with the cute alien girls (Helen Wheels, Rook Shar, etc) and guys (Manny Armstrong, Rook Blonko, etc)

Rex racing Helen

Caesar scaring the c*** out of people with how smart he is

Blukic and Driba attempting to extract and “examine” Rex’s nanites before being bat away by a rolled newspaper by Holiday

Breach bringing in the alternate Ben’s and Rex’s just for fun

EVO’s flat out scaring the Plumbers. Like, s*** your pants afraid

Mechamorphs straight up EATING active nanites and being perfectly fine

Holiday putting Azmuth in a sample jar when he won’t stop yelling at Ben

GWEN AND HOLIDAY INTERACTIONS- LITERALLY ANYTHING

Rook Ben being currently held in Providence facilities and some how ending up as Caesar’s lab assistant for the day

Rex and Rook getting on each others nerves

ROOK vs GATLOCKE*

Ben being CONVINCED that Skwydd is Vilgax’s half-human son or something

Skwydd BEING Vilgax’s half-human son

Tuck being half Thep Khufan (Snare-Oh)

Cricket being half Orthopterran (Crashhopper)

Rex accidentally getting engaged to Looma

Inspector 13 is also after Rex’s MetaNanites

Caesar and Azmuth conversations

Caesar going freaking bada** when someone messes with Rex

Caesar subsequently scaring Azmuth

Six having to babysit

White Knight dealing with Max for not doing his job

Undertown resident’s dealing with EVOs

EVOs dealing with Aliens

People being CONVINCED that Van Kliess is Kevin’s uncle or something

Caesar getting his equivalent of Ship

Rex challenging Julie to Tennis and WINNING. “It’s just big table tennis.”

Noah being the ONLY normal person in the room and he’s worried

Kenwyn kick a** and taking names (and numbers)

Sunny flirting with Rex to mess with Ben

Holiday chewing Max out and insisting the ENTIRETY of Team Tennyson, Rook included much to his surprise, get therapy. Their mental health is in shambles and no one’s doing anything about it

Patelliday distributing a fair share of fish knuckle sandwhiches

Providence Agents and Plumbers having to work together

The Agents and Plumbers switch training programs for the weekend. The Plumbers are BEGGING to be sent back into the vaccuum of space after this

Holiday trying not to beat Blukic and Driba with a stick like they were teeny tiny Pinatas

Bobo beating Blukic and Driba with a stick like they were teeny tiny Pinatas 

Rex casually snatching Rook’s proto-tool and using it expertly

Rook asking Six to spar with him and subsequently getting his a** whooped

Rex shutting Ben down every time he tries to brag. “Please, I kicked your sorry butt in five minutes. You aren’t a bigshot here.”

Six and SixSix flash back*

Bobo hijacking Kevin’s car and the Proto-Truk

Annie scaring the Plumbers.

Rex and Holiday INSISTING magic isn’t real just for Charmcaster to pop in. 

Caesar being unleashed in a Plumber lab with level 4 technology and the havoc that causes.

Team Tennyson being freaked out by Rex’s bad guys. Him simultaneously EXTREMELY unimpressed with theirs.

Caesar and Albedo team up

Mr Bauman quietly sobbing in the corner as Rex lives up to his name and wrecks the place in a fight

Kai meeting Rex’s cousins (the werewolf ones)

Rex accidentally wrecking Kai’s museum in a fight and the subsequent s*** fit.

*I’m already doing this one but that’s no excuse you guys

[rosaliestark01]

Dusk Till Dawn - Part 9

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Tony reveals who Y/N's real dad is and Y/N confronts her family.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, angst, maybe some cringiness???

A/N: Although @annies-marvel-imagines will no longer be posting more parts, she will still receive credit.

"Can someone please explain what just happened?" Clint asks as he sits against the wall of their cell. He flicks a piece of lint from his sleeve before looking at the others for answers.

"I'm sorry. Did you miss the part where Y/N kicked our asses?" Tony backtalks. It's evident he takes your betrayal extremely personally, more so than anyone else.

"No, I think I was taking my afternoon nap," Clint deadpans. "What I don't understand is why."

"This is all my fault," Peter sighs. His shoulders slump and the regret is clear as day. "If I hadn't let my guard down at the dance-"

Everyone in the cell groaned in exasperation. Peter and Tony hadn't stopped blaming themselves the entire time, and it was shattering the morale of everyone there as though their spirits weren't already broken.

"Now's not the time to be playing the blame game," Nat discusses. "We need to figure out a way out of here."

"We wouldn't be in this mess if Y/N hadn't stabbed us all in the back," Bucky mumbles under his breath. He knew that you were a good fighter, considering he and Nat were the ones who trained you. He just never imagined that you'd turn on him and everyone else.

"No," Steve responds. "Y/N wouldn't betray us if she didn't have a good reason. He had to have forced her or something."

"Sorry to break it to you," Ezekiel chuckles as he approaches the cell with you and Eloise by his side, "but I didn't force Y/N to do shit. Isn't that right, sweetheart."

"Yeah, dad," you reply. Peter seems to be the only one to notice how uncomfortable you were to call that man your dad.

"Dad?" Tony quotes. His face turns beet red, and, for a split second, you were afraid that a vein would pop. He stares at Ezekiel angrily before responding, "You-"

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Ezekiel pressed a button, causing a soundproof metal barrier to surround the cell.

"Don't worry about them, Y/N." Ezekiel laughed, beginning to walk away. "They'll get what they deserve soon enough."

"With our sponsor ready to move to phase two, we'll be unstoppable," Eloise added. You refrained from becoming visibly alarmed at the mention of a sponsor. It made sense that that would have explained how they could get a hold of such advanced technology.

"Your sponsor?" You questioned, trying not to seem too interested.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with," Ezekiel mutters, ignoring you in favor of questioning Eloise. "Has the shipment arrived?"

"Most of it," She states. They continue walking ahead of you, leaving you to wonder what the heck you've gotten yourself into.

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

"Tony, is that true?" Rhodey asks. "Is that asshole Y/N's real dad?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Tony retorts. "Of course, that's not Y/N's real dad."

"Then who is he?" Steve questions, unaware of how Tony has been avoiding making eye contact with him.

"His name is Ezekiel Stane. His dad was my business partner until he betrayed me." Everyone nods their head, beginning to understand what was going on.

"And now he's using Y/n to get revenge," Steve finished. "Who is Y/N's real dad?"

Everyone looks at Tony expectantly. They're both eager to find out who your real dad is and curious as to why it is such a heavily guarded secret. Whoever it is, it can't be worse than the guy who is actively manipulating you as an act of revenge. When Tony fails to answer, Bruce speaks up.

"Dammit, Tony, this is important information," he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

"Banner is right," Steve declares, causing Tony to lose it.

"Fine! You want to know who her real dad is? It's you!"Silence engulfs the cell as everyone is too shocked to quickly process what Tony revealed.

"Is this a joke to you?" Steve's brows knitted in confusion and anger as he stared at Tony. Yet, the fear and bitterness that burned in his eyes told the truth. "I can't be Y/N's dad. It's impossible."

"You want to know how it's possible? Ask Fury," Tony seethed. He couldn't meet anyone's eyes, but he knew what they were all thinking.

"Fury knew?" Nat asks quietly, not ready to believe that Fury would keep something this important, something this profound, about you from her.

"Dammit, Tony. You had no right to keep this a secret," Steve yells as he begins to pace. The more he thinks about it, the more you look like someone from his past, someone he thought would be his future before he went in the ice.

"Didn't I?" Tony challenges. "Y/N is still my daughter."

"Now's not the time to fight about this," Nat mutters, still processing the information. "Y/N still thinks that that guy is her dad, and we need to find a way out of here."

"I don't think that Y/N thinks that guy is her dad," Peter pipes up. "You saw how uncomfortable she got when she called him 'dad', and I have a gut feeling that she's still on our side."

"I don't trust your spider-tingle, or whatever you call it. It's been wrong before," Bucky scowls, remembering one of the few times he remembers Peter's gut feeling had led them all into a few unpleasant situations.

"But I don't think it's wrong this time. I have faith in Y/N," Peter states confidently.

"I hate to say it, but the kid is right. Y/N is our only hope of getting out of here."

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

"Would you fucking quit it? You're giving me a headache," Eloise fusses. At this moment, you'd give anything to shut her up. You came here to think, but all you could think about was how her constant bickering was distracting you. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

The two of you were in what Ezekiel called the "weapon room ." Although there wasn't a weapon in sight, you had a feeling that they were still in the piles of unopened metal crates that were stacked around the room.

"They're the Avengers," You tell her. "Aren't you worried they'd escape?"

In reality, you were more worried about helping them escape. You'd be lying if you said that you thought this out entirely through. You should have realized before you put your friends and family in a cell that you'd need to know how to get them out of it.

"Unlike you, I have faith in the cell Zeke created. There's no way they can escape without the remote," Eloise glares at you from where she sat. The dislike she had for you was more evident than ever, but you didn't have it in you to be sad about it. The sweet girl you became friends with months ago never existed.

"What remote?" You ask. Her eyes narrowed at you as though she were scanning you for any signs of betrayal.

"Like I'd tell you," she huffs angrily as she rises to her feet. Either way, learning about the remote gave you a new plan. "Unlike Zeke, I don't trust you for a second. Not when we've got your slimy boyfriend in a cage."

"He's not my boyfriend." The words, despite their truth, burned your mouth. Peter wasn't your boyfriend, but that didn't mean you didn't want him to be.

"Sure." The second she turns around to leave, you notice something peaking out of her pocket. This could be the remote, you thought. Then again, what if it isn't. Either way, you weren't going to pass up the chance in case it is.

"Eloise." She turns toward you, but before she could react, your fist collides with her jaw, causing her to collapse on one of the crates. You check to make sure that she stayed out cold before grabbing the remote.

You couldn't help the rush of anticipation as you make your way towards the cell. You weren't sure what you were going to say to them or if they were even going to hear you out, but you had to try.

"Okay," you mutter as you stand in front of the cell. You stare at the remote in your hand, and you click on the button that you hope would open it. Abruptly, the cell seems to unlock before a door popped open. Inside stood the shocked faces of your family, who you double-crossed.

"You guys probably hate my guts, but trust me when I say I had a good reason," you stated as you stared at their faces which were a mixture of anger, disappointment, and relief.

"Care to explain?" Nat crosses her arms dauntingly, prompting you to lower your head in guilt.

"Well..." You began, fiddling with your sleeve. "I'll start by saying that I made a mistake by trusting Eloise and Ezekiel."

"You think?" Bucky scoffed. You couldn't help the shame that washed over you at the sight of the disappointed looks etched on the faces of your two mentors. You knew it would take a lot to earn back their trust, but you hoped that this was a start.

"But when I realized that Ezekiel wasn't my real dad, I had to play along," you explain. You look up at everyone and hope that they'd understand. "I think that they're planning something big."

"Answer this. Did you start playing along before or after you kidnapped all of us?" Nat questioned. The look on her face is unreadable, which slightly unsettled you.

"It was the night of the dance," you confirm. You felt bad about ditching Peter that night. It wasn't until afterward that you remembered that Peter didn't like Gwen. Instead, he chose you. You just had to go and mess it up by choosing Eloise. "They started talking nonsense about Tony attacking them and how they needed to destroy the Avengers, so I played along to find out what their endgame was."

You subtly wince at the way Tony's face fell when you used his name, regret washing over you immediately. For all you knew, Tony is your real dad, and the file that Hydra had on you was one big lie.

"What do you think they're planning?" Peter asks. You meet his eyes for the first time and answer honestly.

"I'm not sure, but Eloise said something about their sponsor being ready to move on to the next phase." You let the severity of the situation soak before continuing. "They've already received truckloads of metal crates just like the one we got from that Hydra base weeks ago."

"The one with the red wax stamp?" Nat asks, meaning she remembered.

"Exactly."

"So, do you have a plan?" Sam asks, getting up from the floor.

"Yeah." A small smile made its way to your face as you look at your family. "I have a plan."

TAG LIST:

Message me if you would like to be added or removed.

@eridanuswave @perspectiveparker @spidey-reids-2003 @ilovespideyyy @purplekitten30 @slytherinambitious @starryeddie @grapesauze @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @thegayseance @whiskeywinter89 @big-galaxy-chaos

[bloodybigshiplucille]

The Ghost of Her

Chapter 3: Your Memory Is Ecstasy

Maggie has an argument with Hershel about the amount of time she spends with Negan and Jodie. Her and Negan meanwhile start bonding over their shared heartbreak.

When Maggie wakes up the sun has already set but both Negan and Jodie are still sleeping peacefully in her arms. She studies Negan’s features and to her delight he looks completely at ease. No frown decorates his face, his breathing is even and even the pain-struck facial expression that hadn’t left since Annie’s passing seems to have softened. Maggie doesn’t want to get up, she really doesn’t but she knows that Hershel is waiting for her at home and she also can’t wait to pull her son into her arms. She untangles herself from Negan’s heavy sleeping form as careful as possible without waking father and daughter but apparently both are so exhausted from the events of the past couple of days that neither of them even so much as stir. Before she finally leaves the room she takes a final glance at the two sleepyheads and can’t help herself but gently caresses the side of Negan’s face. What she told him earlier on is true. If she hadn’t been there that day she wouldn’t associate the man in front of her with the killing of her husband even for a second. Maggie knows, she obviously knows that this very man violently struck his killer bat onto her husband’s head without a second of hesitation and he enjoyed it. Oh heck, did he enjoy it, however, Maggie also knows that when she’s looking at him now a feeling inside her gut arises that has nothing to do with animosity or thoughts of revenge. So far, she's put her affection down to feeling sorry for him and that all she’s really feeling is compassion. But what has compassion to do with the way her heart is beating faster whenever he’s even accidentally touching her? What has compassion to do with the warm tingle that starts spreading through her whenever she spots Negan’s house when she’s on her way over? Is compassion the reason for her mind slipping to the broad-shouldered man with the salt and pepper beard whenever she’s lying alone in her bed at night? Is compassion the reason she feels a long forgotten tingle between her legs that she hasn’t been feeling in over ten years? 

When Maggie arrives at home Hershel is already waiting for her in the living room.

„Hey honey, I’m sorry I’m late,“ Maggie quickly apologizes as she spots her son’s clearly annoyed facial expression. 

„Where have you been?“ Hershel asks reproachful.

„I’ve been checking on the baby, you know that,“ Maggie tells Hershel casual on her way to the kitchen hoping he’d drop the topic while she’s preparing dinner but Hershel is following her. 

„Why are you bothering with it? She’s not your child.“ „No, she’s not,“ Maggie has been dreading this very moment. She knows that Hershel still has hard feelings for Negan and therefore for Jodie and even though Maggie reassured Hershel a hundred times that Negan isn’t the man he used to be Hershel isn’t buying it. All Hershel sees when it comes to Negan is the reason why he hasn’t been able to ever meet his father. „But I feel like I owe this to Annie. She would have done the same thing for me.“ „That’s bullshit!“

„Hershel!“ Maggie’s eyes widen in shock. Hershel has never spoken up against her like that.

„Annie might have done the same thing for you but Negan is the reason you had to go through the same thing! How can you disrespect Dad like that? How can you even be in the same room with him?“ Hershel completely starts lashing out against his mothers while some angry tears stars streaming down his face. 

„Sweetheart,“ Maggie tries pulling Hershel towards her to calm him down but he quickly frees himself from his mother’s grip and runs upstairs. Maggie only hears his bedroom door shut close with a loud bang. 

„Fuck!“ She exclaims frustratedly. Is she a bad person for wishing back the time when she was constantly fighting walkers and not her pre-pubescent son? Of course she gets where Hershel is coming from. How should he understand? He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there when she witnessed the way Negan redeemed himself, when she witnessed Negan letting go of his old self. Hershel wasn’t in the prison cell all those years ago…

Hershel’s feelings towards Negan makes her hate herself for her own feelings for the older man even more. She can’t let them loose. She needs to put her feelings down to being alone for so long. Maybe she’s just generally desperate for a man. Maybe she just needs a good proper fuck and get over it. Yes, that’s probably it. She needs to fuck it out with anybody but Negan. 

The next morning Hershel and Maggie eat their breakfast in silence. Hershel is completely avoiding his mother’s eyes and heads out of the door as soon as he finishes his bowl of cereal. While Maggie is obviously disappointed that Hershel is still mad at her she doesn’t know how to approach him either. She hopes the situation will cool enough over the day so they can resolve the problem tonight. 

Maggie decides to go for a walk through Alexandria to get her mind off and check on the residents and the progress of the multiple construction sites. With the Common Wealth’s resources and materials the houses in Alexandria are getting renovated and some brand new ones are getting built. The walls around the town are getting a much needed upgrade and so does the windmill. Once she corners the church she spots Negan’s house in the distance which she immediately feels drawn to. She shouldn’t. She owes Hershel that. She shouldn’t allow Negan to continue infiltrating her brain like that but her feet don’t listen to her brain. It’s fine. She needs to pass his street to get home anyway. However, shortly before she gets the chance to turn into the next street she spots Negan on his porch. He’s rocking Jodie nervously in his arms while walking up and down the small space. Last night’s calmness has vanished and he once again looks completely stressed out. Against every common sense Maggie makes her way over to Negan. 

„Are you okay?“ She asks before he even notices her. The second Negan turns around and spots Maggie in his front yard a visible load is lifted from him but Jodie keeps on crying against her Dad’s shoulder. 

„Yeah, we’re good, just a little sleep deprived,“ Negan tells Maggie while still trying to calm the weeping toddler in his arm. 

„Sleep deprived? The last time I saw you, you guys were completely out,“ Maggie grins at the memory. 

„Well, the second you left little Jodie here decided that bedtime was over and I couldn’t get her to sleep ever since. Now she’s cranky because she’s probably exhausted but no matter what I try she doesn’t want to sleep,“ Maggie can see the frustration in the newly father’s eyes and immediately thinks back to the first nights when Hershel refused to sleep and kept her up all night. Maggie quickly steps onto the porch and lifts the crying baby from Negan’s arms. She cradles Jodie to soothe her and as if by magic the little girl gets quiet. 

„Are you kidding me?“ Negan lets out a frustrated groan and plumps down onto the bench next to the front door. Within a minute Jodie’s breathing evens out and soon the little girl starts slumbering peacefully in Maggie’s arms. „What’s your secret? This is nuts! Am I really that much of a bad parent?“ „You’re not a bad parent!“ Maggie quickly assures Negan. „You should have seen me in the beginning with Hershel, it was a nightmare. You’re a newly father, you’ll learn with time. I think Jodie sensed your frustration and therefore got even more frustrated herself.“ 

Negan still looks completely gutted. He can literally feel Annie laughing at him from above. Sometimes he wishes he was six feet under instead of her. She would know what to do. She wouldn’t be completely overstrained by their daughter crying. 

„C’mon, let’s get inside. I think you could use some coffee.“ Maggie reaches her right hand out to Negan while holding the sleeping child in her other. Negan doesn't need to be asked twice and lets her pull him up. 

Maggie lays Jodie down in her little crib in the living room and continues stroking through her hair to make sure that she’s drifting off into a deep sleep. Negan returns to the living room with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. 

„Thank you,“ Maggie greedily accepts the cup of caffeine and carefully sips on the porcelain. 

„Are you okay?“ Negan suddenly asks her out of the blue. 

„Uhm… yeah, why shouldn’t I be?“ Maggie asks insecurely. 

„I don’t know, you seemed tensed earlier… But maybe I was misinterpreting something.“

„No, you’re… you’re actually right. I was tensed, well I actually still am. I had a bit of an argument with Hershel last night and he’s still mad at me. He really starts having a mind of his own and last night he properly lashed out on me for the first time,“ It’s surprisingly easy for Maggie to tell Negan about what happened. She’s glad to have somebody listen to her even though that somebody is the reason for that exact argument. „I just sometimes wish my baby Hershel back,“ Maggie blurts out honestly and looks wistfully at Jodie. 

„You can borrow Jodie any time you want,“ Negan smiles at her. „I’d probably be better with a ten year old boy anyway.“ Maggie lets out a snort. She’d actually pay good money to see Negan trying to handle Hershel for more than an hour. 

„I don’t think that particular ten year old would be easier to handle than that sweet little angel over here. Besides your daughter adores you, don’t ever think less of you as a father.“ Just like he did yesterday Negan once again takes ahold of Maggie’s hand and squeezes it affectionately but this time he doesn’t pull away and neither does she. They just sit next to each other on the sofa holding hands and looking at each other while a comfortable silence settles over them. 

„You know what I miss the most about Annie? The physical touch. Not in the way you might think now,“ Negan chuckles lightly. „She was a very physical person and she really showed her affection for somebody in hugs or gentle pats. I miss holding her and I miss her holding me,“ The last sentence is almost whispered but Maggie catches the way Negan lets out a shaky breath. Negan’s view starts getting blurry so he quickly tries blinking his tears away without success. Maggie quickly pulls their intertwined hands tightly against her.

„Can I ask you something? But please tell me if I’m crossing a line?“ Negan asks Maggie with wet eyes. 

„Of course you can.“ „What was Glenn like?“ The question does in fact take the winds out of Maggie. Despite having forgiven Negan for the doings of his past life she’s not been prepared to talk about her deceased husband. Negan immediately notices Maggie’s hesitation. „I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.“ Maggie feels Negan’s hand in hers twitching like he wants to draw it away but she doesn’t let him. She tightens her grip and doesn’t let him pull away. 

„He was… sweet. He was the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. He has always put the well-being of others above his own and he would have always made sure that everyone else was fine before he looked out for himself. He was the most selfless person I’ve ever seen.“

„I bet he would have been a great father…“ Negan whispers while a single tear slips past his eye. „I’m sorry…“ „Stop apologizing,“ Maggie interrupts Negan quickly. „I assure you, I forgave you, Negan.“ He still averts his eyes from her, obviously ashamed of the actions of his past. „You don’t believe me, do you?“ Maggie lets go off their hands and instead takes Negan’s face between both her palms, basically forcing him to look her in the eyes. 

„How could you forgive me?“ Negan properly starts sobbing between Maggie’s hands. „I can’t and I never will forgive myself for it.“ „Negan… how can I show you that I forgave you?“ Seeing Negan like that physically hurts her. It’s like a knife has been pushed right through her heart. Maggie feels so helpless. She doesn’t want him to keep on beating himself up, she wants him to see himself the way she sees him now. It upsets her more than she wants to admit. She gently lets her head fall against his so that their foreheads are touching. „Please believe me, Negan,“ Maggie whispers against him, against his lips. She feels his breathing against her which is still uneven. Negan feels Maggie’s left hand slowly caressing his temple. The touch of her hands, of her fingers, sends a warmth through his entire body he hasn’t felt ever since he got separated from Annie. It’s intoxicating. It’s addicting. For the first time in days he feels save, feels at home. He wants to resist the pulling at his heartstrings, he really does but he can’t. He can’t help but close the gap between their lips. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[martyrwill]

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.17: HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 2:58 AM

Warren County, Illinois

BLAMM!

Shotgun, Leigh knew instantly.

Oh Jesus, what now?!

Leigh quietly pushed the bathroom door open with a small creaking sound, and softly shut it behind him. He paced across the room in his undershirt, briefs, and dress socks and peered down through the little skinny window behind Annie's bed. It was dark, but directly down below, there was some kind of delivery area, with a small porch, an awning, and a bright light beside the door. The awning blocked Leigh's view of the light and the door and most of the porch, but in the glow of the light he saw two pairs of legs laying toes up on the ground.

Someone's been shot down there. He knew. What other reason would someone be laying flat on the cement behind a hospital.

He heard a shout. The sound of breaking glass. Some more crashes...maybe a muffled scream. More glass crunching.

Something is happening.

Leigh quickly moved toward the bathroom. Just put my pants and my boots on. Get my gun. His mind raced.

He put a hand on the doorknob and pushed.

Nothing.

Oh shit! He thought, and jiggled the knob.

Nothing.

Shit shit shit.

Then he remembered.

When the nurse---Alves, I think her name was---had wheeled Annie's bed into the room after she had come out of surgery. Alves had mentioned that the bathroom door tends to lock and had motioned to a little doorstop on the floor beside the door. Leigh looked at it now.

There's the doorstop.

His mind had been so focused on his daughter that he hadn't quite absorbed what Alves was saying.

Now I'm locked out of the fucking bathroom!

He jerked the knob hard.

Without my pants.

Nothing.

Without my phone.

He slapped the door exasperated and walked back toward the window. He didn't hear any more scuffling from out there.

And without my gun.

And there's an active shooter in the hospital.

He didn't know that for sure.

You need to act like there is.

Heck, there had been crazier stuff happening around town that night.

Leigh turned toward the room door, pushed it open, and stuck his head out in the hallway.

A woman stood at the far end of the corridor. She was hispanic, disheveled, wearing a hospital gown. She was pushing her IV stand in front of her with one hand and holding something in the other.

A baby. He saw. A newborn baby.

She saw him and gasped in relief. Leigh forgot about the fact he wasn't wearing pants and stepped into the hallway. The corridor was much colder that the room. He felt the chill as his socks graced the hallway tile.

Fuck..my shoes. He wanted to scream.

The woman didn't seem to notice he wasn't wearing pants either.

“Dios mio!” She exclaimed. “Aye Sheriff, I hear gun! You hear that? You hear gun? I know it gun...who is shooting?”

He shushed her, motioning for her to calm down. She gulped and nodded.

“Yes I heard it.” He hissed, grasping her arm. He must have done it hard because she winced.

“What we do?” She whispered, “They hurt my baby! I won't let them hurt my baby?!”

Leigh looked around. The corridor was lined with hospital rooms. Ten to a side. Loomis is in one. Laurie's in another. Where is everyone else?

There was only silence.

And then there were more noises downstairs. A scream. Some crashing.

At the far end of the corridor there was a door with a small blue sign that read: SUPPLY CLOSET.

“We have to hide,” he said.

She nodded frantically.

He pulled her firmly and swiftly toward the door. She followed as fast as she could, trailing her IV stand behind her now. Leigh said a prayer as he gripped the doorknob. Please be unlocked! The door opened. Thank God for negligence.

It was a fairly big room, lined with shelves on all sides holding plastic bins filled with all sorts of medical supplies. There was a gray rubber maid garbage can in the corner. Leigh grabbed the middle shelf and pushed it toward the rear shelf on the far back wall. The noise was immense. The woman winced at the grating sound the shelf made as it scraped across the tile, and held her baby to her. Bandages, wraps, hoses, rolls of gauze, and other various things came raining down from the shelf as it moved.

Leigh flipped the trash can over upside down and patted it for the woman. She pushed her IV to beside the can and then sat down on the bottom of the trash can. She rocked her baby. Miraculously it was still asleep.

“Ok?” He asked.

She nodded.

“I'll be right back,” he said.

Leigh sprinted back to Annie's room. Quickly he unlocked the wheels of his daughter's bed, crooked the IV stand in his arm, and pushed the behemoth monstrosity toward the door. It was tought to get going, but when it did get going, it slid fairly easily.

He got it toward the door, opened it, took a second to listen. There was no sound, only silence. He slid the IV stand out first, held the door with his butt, and then pulled the bed into the hallway until the weight of the bed itself held the door open. Then he slid all the way into the hall, crooked the IV stand again, and pulled the bed completely into the hallway, allowing the room door to close behind it with a soft click. He brought the IV stand with him to the head of the bed, careful not to get tangled in the various cords and hoses that ran from the little electronic box on the pole to his daughter.

He paused and looked at Annie. She hadn't moved. It gave him relief and broke his heart at the same time.

I didn't lose you to Michael Myers, he thought, I'm not going to lose you to come nutcase with a shotgun.

He pushed the bed toward the closet door. The hispanic woman had stood up and was holding the door open for him.

He pushed Annie as far into the room as he could. The door shut behind him. The soft glow from the two electronic boxes on the IV stands gave plenty of light to the room.

Leigh looked at the woman. “Como te llamos?” He asked in the best Spanish he could muster.

“I'm Rosalita,” she said unflinching.

“Rosalita,” he said, “I want you to lock this door. I don't want you to open it for anybody.”

“No,” she shook her head, “Don't leave Sheriff. Please no leave me and my baby.”

“I have to see what's going on,” he said.

She began to cry.

“I don't want you to open the door for anyone but me. You'll know it is me because I'm gonna knock three times...tres...like this...mira.”

He gave three slow knocks on the door.

“Do you understand?”

She shook her head and cried.

“Rosalita?”

She gulped and nodded.

“Ok then,” he said, “I'm gonna go see what's up and then I'll be right back.”

Tears streamed down her face.

Leigh opened the door and stepped out. “Three knocks,” he said behind him.

“Three knocks.” She stuttered.

Leigh shut the door behind him. He heard the click as Rosalita locked it from the inside.

Leigh went first back to Annie's room. He tried the bathroom door again, harder this time. Still nothing.

That door is as heavy as a rhino, he thought, no way I'm breaking it down.

He stepped back out into the dark hallway. The far end of which formed a T-junction. The elevators and snack machines were off to the left, to the right was the nurses station. At the other end, next to the supply closet was a door leading to the Stairwell. He moved toward this quickly, opening the also heavy door as silently as he could. Hearing nothing, comfortable that no one was there, he descended the steps quickly, thankful for the moment he didn't have his boots on. His feet were virtually silent on the rough concrete steps.

I'm like fucking Bruce Willis in Die Hard, he thought. Except Bruce had a gun.

At the bottom of the steps, the white door read GROUND in black stenciled spray paint. Leigh pushed this open soundlessly as well, stepping out carefully. This hallway was similar, but not quite. Just as dark, this one was lined with doors but few he knew were patient rooms. The chapel was down this corridor, as was the gift shop and some of the administrative offices. About twenty feet away was the back door under the awning he had seen from the window above. It was cracked open. He could see a smear of dark liquid running from the door to a crumpled mass in the middle of the tile floor about thirty feet on from the door. Leigh knew the liquid was blood, and he knew the mass was a body.

The shooter had gone that way, Leigh thought, mentally pointing down the corridor to the body. That end of the hallway opened out into another nurses' station, and beyond that the lobby.

Leigh eased over to the backdoor, trying not to step in blood. He wasn't entirely able to succeed however, feeling a squish of something in his sock. He winced and pushed open the door.

The little porch was perhaps only four feet by four feet. There were three steps going down and then a twenty feet by twenty feet pad of concrete atop which was a small metal picnic table and a Butt Station for cigarettes. This was Haddonfield County-General's designated smoking section for the dwindling population of smokers who happened to be at the facility at any given time. Laying on his back, in front of the table, half in and half out of the shadow of the large awning that was mounted above the back door, was Whitey Grey.

Just a few short hours ago, Leigh had been sitting in the waiting room, watching the World Series with Whitey. Well---watching is a bit of an overstatement. Leigh couldn't tell you a damn thing that happened in that game, he was too busy with worry over Annie and he imagined that Whitey had been the same way over Rosalita and their new baby. Rosalita had been having complications and they had sent Whitey out because he had seemed a little of what Doctor Mixter had called “faint”. Whitey, Leigh, and the custodian Jimmy Lloyd had all sat together silently, watching the television but not really watching.

Leigh looked at Whitey now. The last he saw Whitey, he had stood up in the waiting room, sighed loudly, and exclaimed he had needed a cigarette. Here he was now, laying on his back, but his head was twisted around all the way so that his face was in the dirt, facing the wrong way atop his light blue shirt that read: THIS GUY IS GOING TO BE A NEW DADDY! His hands were stretched out like Jesus on the cross. In one lay a silver Zippo lighter engraved with a picture of a Hawai'ian hula dancer. In his other hand, still in between his index and middle finger was the butt of a cigarette, a small funnel of ash marked the place where the rest of it had been before it burned all the way down.

Whoever did this to him did it to him from behind, Leigh thought, descending the stairs to get a closer look, So quick he didn't even have time to drop his smoke. Leigh looked into the darkness. This side of the hospital was flanked by trees, it was fairly dark for a public place. Could have come from the bushes, maybe military trained.

Leigh started back toward the door, then he stopped. To the left of the steps, crumpled against them, was another body. Leigh squinted in the dark but couldn't make out who it was. The body was on its side, facing the steps. He saw a pair of work boots, the soles well worn. He also saw blood pooling from beneath the body, running in scarlet rivers toward the concrete pad, toward the table and the body of Whitey Grey.

Leigh jogged toward the body, skipping in between the long fingers of blood and wincing as his sock came down on a sharp rock or piece of metal—it was too dark to see for sure. He leaned over the body and then immediately revolted back, stifling a gag in his throat. He knew immediately who it was. The dead corpse of a man, clad in faded blue jeans and a dirty light blue work shirt, clutched a 12 gauge shotgun lazily in his arms and chest, the trigger facing out. By his clothes alone, Sheriff Brackett knew that this was one Everett “Sparky” Warner. He only knew this from years of experience, because identitifying the man via his face was impossible. The man didn't even have a face---or a head for that matter. Sparky's neck rose and ended with a sliver of jaw and a little bit of the base of his skull. The rest had been blown out in a bloody mess of bone, skin, brains, and teeth, that lay in a congealed puddle around him and down the back of his shirt.

Leigh looked from Sparky to Whitey and then back to Sparky.

Everyone in Haddonfield knew about how Whitey had made off with Sparky's wife. The talk of the small town was how the baby in Rosalita's belly belonged to the man doing odd jobs around her house and not her electrician husband.

Rosalita. The recognition hit Leigh like a freight train. That woman up there with the baby, that's Rosalita!

He couldn't believe he hadn't put that together until now.

Leigh didn't put it passed Sparky Warner one bit to kill Whitey Grey. He didn't have any doubt in his mind that Sparky probably wanted to snap Whitey's neck. The question was: Could he?

Whitey was not particularly a big man, but he had about a foot on Sparky, and Sparky had about a foot of beer belly around his waist. Leigh found it odd to think that Sparky could have snuck up on Whitey in the dark and snapped his neck without so much as a fight.

Leigh looked at the body of Whitey, his head turned around all wrong on his neck. No fight was given there, he thought.

He also found it very odd that Sparky would then crawl into a corner and blow his head off. Sparky's got too much pride to go and do something like that, Leigh thought. He'd have gone and looked to put a few shells in Rosalita—maybe even that baby, but in his own head? Can't picture that. Doesn't compute.

As he thought these things, his eyes scanned up to the windows of what was his daughters room. He thought of his daughter hiding in a closet with Rosalita Warner right now. All of this doesn't explain the other body in the hallway, he thought, his gaze ran down from the window back to the awning and the back door--and then he saw it.

On the wall beside the door, were hundreds of little pockmarks and a spray of dark liquid. Shit, I'm missing everything tonight. He thought. Think Leigh! It's been a fucker of a day but you got to think. Directly beside the door was a red rectangular box. White lettering on the top read: FIRE EMERGENCY. Smaller white lettering on the bottom read: BREAK GLASS TO RETRIEVE AX. And he saw broken glass all right, glittering in the porch light, all over the landing, all over the steps, and all over the concrete pad. That sharp rock or metal he had stepped on, was probably glass.

Leigh ascended the stairs to the landing and took a closer look at the wall and confirmed his suspicions. Pellet holes, he knew, from the shot. Sparky had been standing at an angle, his left shoulder facing the door. He was then thrown up and over the railing, landing down below next to the stairs.

Why would Sparky stand like that, right in front of the door and shoot himself. Someone had fought Sparky with the gun, discharging it in his face and throwing him over the railing. Leigh pondered quickly and carefully. Probably whoever killed Whitey, he figured. Sparky may have come out with the shotgun to get Whitey, but he ran into someone else entirely. Leigh looked at the box beside the door. Where is the ax?

Leigh pushed open the door carefully, forgetting entirely to watch his socks for blood, feeling cold dampness squish between his toes. He grimaced and pressed into the hallway. He jotted up to the next body, and recoiled again, feeling another wave of nausea.

Father Carmine!

There was little to go on. The shiny black shoes, the black pants soaked in the pool of blood below him, the pressed black shirt in tatters, a white collar almost completely red. The dead giveaway was the golden crucifix, still attached to a now-broken chain laying in the mess beside the body. Father Carmine was the Associate Rector of Our Lady of Consolation Roman Catholic Church in Haddonfield, and the unofficial official chaplain of Haddonfield County-General Hospital. Leigh couldn't be certain it was him, there was nothing left of a face or head but a bloody pulp, one arm had been very nearly severed, the other was missing giant chunks of flesh revealing shiny white bone near the forearm and shoulder. Unless some other priest had been walking the hospital during Halloween night in Haddonfield, this had to be Father Carmine.

Well, Leigh thought as he stepped around the body, Somebody definitely used the ax.

It was the only thing that could account for that kind of destruction to a human body.

Just then he heard a crash and a scream. It came from down the hall in front of him. There were more scuffling noises, heading away, growing fainter. He took one last look at Father Carmine's corpse and then began to trot toward the sound. Then he stopped.

Just what the hell are you gonna do? He thought. You're in your underwear. You have no shoes. No gun. No phone.

But he knew the nurses station upstairs had a phone.

I can at least get a hold of Meeker and get someone down here.

He turned and jogged back to the stairwell, his blood-soaked socks making sickening splatter noises on the tile as he ran.

I'll call the calvary, then I'll get back up there to my Annie.

As he ascended the steps he thought about how he could tell Rosalita that her husband and the father of her child were both dead.

And not at the hands of one another apparently.

It shocked him how absurdly amusing this was to him at the moment. He pushed the door open to the second floor and stepped back into the dark hallway.

You're so tired you're getting delirious, he reasoned.

He jogged as fast as he could to the far end of the hall and turned right, nearly toppling over another body.

The men's restroom and a water fountain was to the left, a woman's restroom to the right. There in the middle of the floor, was the body of a doctor. The only reason knew it was a doctor was because of the long white coat. This body was just as trashed as the body of Father Carmine.

Probably Fred Mixter, Leigh winced as he stepped around it, feeling more wetness in his socks. There was so much blood there was nowhere left to step. A room opened up to the right, next to the women's restroom. A staff lounge from the looks of it. Leigh squinted inside and could see another body. This one in the blue scrubs of a nurse. It looked just as equally chopped up.

What the fuck! was all his mind could say.

Directly ahead was the nurses' station. A long, curving counter blocked the hallway from the desk covered in computers, phones, etc. Behind the desk were rows of filing cabinets. On the wall behind this was a large marker board with patient information, a clock, and a bulletin board. The pictures of various doctors and nurses had been taped atop bodies of black construction-paper spiders. These spiders had been in turn stapled to a purple background. Webs had been drawn with a white crayon or colored pencils and orange stenciled lettering stapled at the top read: HAPPY HALLOWEENIE!

Directly in front of the counter, face down on the tile, was another body. This one also wore scrubs. This one was also hacked to pieces. Leigh could tell it had once been an African-American woman, but not much more. An IV stand lay next to her. The electronic box was smashed, hoses ran out from it like a coiled snake, ending in a strip of bandage and gauge that was now soaking in the blood of the nurse. One of the IV bags lay in the pool of blood, casting a pink glow on the liquid inside. The other had busted, an empty plastic sack looked like a jelly-fish floating in an ocean of blood. Leigh stepped around all of this, trying to avoid yet another massive pool of human blood. He cocked his head, and heard something.

It sounded, like a television.

He rounded the counter, entering to behind the desk via a small door along the side. There he beheld the nurses' desk. One of the computer monitors was on, and it was streaming the baseball game. Leigh looked at the clock on the wall. 3:10.

The game is still on?

He squinted at the monitor. A chubby Cubs batter was walking to the plate, chomping down on an enormous wad of bright pink bubble gum. The graphic at the top read: Bottom of the 12th.

Leigh shook his head and snapped up the nearest phone reciever. He punched the Line 1 button and then promptly hit 9-1-1.

Busy tone.

Seriously!

He hung up and tried again.

Busy tone.

You've got to be kidding!

Leigh hung up again and thought for a moment, trying his best to remember Bengie Meeker's cellphone number.

It came to him and he dialed.

“Hey this is Deputy Ben Meeker with the Warren County Police Depar---”

“Jesus Fuck!” Leigh hissed and slammed the phone back down on the hook.

Leigh paced to the doorway of the little office and then back to the desk, thinking, trying to remember anymore numbers.

Nobody remembered phone numbers anymore! He commiserated. He tried to think of Fred Colbourne, the Fire Chief's number. Nothing was coming to him. All he could remember was the number to the landline he and Joanna had shared.

That's been disconnected since Joanna died! His mind roared. And that won't help you now.

He paced back and forth one more time and stopped in the doorway. Directly across the little corridor, opposite the door, was a short white metal cabinet with about seven or eight little drawers. Without another thought, he began to pull open the little drawers, finding almost immediately what he was looking for.

In the second drawer from the bottom he found scrub pants, these he pulled on quickly. They were a little tight, obviously cut for a woman, but they worked. In the top drawer he found a roll of cotton shoe covers and a box of latex gloves. He pulled on the gloves and peeled his blood-soaked socks off his feet, fighting an urge not to wretch. Tossing the socks into the corner beside the cabinet, he pulled on a new pair of shoe covers and stuffed the remaining roll into the pocket of his scrub pants. In the second drawer from the top he found a substantial set of keys on a large keyring. There were all different assorted kinds. Leigh pulled off the gloves, tossed these into the corner as well, grabbed the keys, stuffed them into his other pocket, and approached the phone again.

He tried 9-1-1.

Still busy.

He tried Meeker.

Still voicemail.

He pondered whether to leave a message and then hung up. No time. He thought. Gotta get back to Annie.

He had left the supply closet with the intention of 'seeing what was going on'.

What was going on was that there was some nutcase in the hospital welding an ax.

Myers? He wondered. Possible.

He had been given no updates on the Myers situation since departing with Annie and Laurie Strode for the hospital. He had asked for none as well. It was difficult for him to believe that Meeker and the boys had yet to nab Michael Myers by now. It was just as difficult for him to believe that there was anyone else capable of this much carnage.

If it is Myers, what's he after? Laurie?

He rounded the corner, forming a wide arc around the body of the nurse, keys jingling in his pocket and new shoe covers swishing on the cold tile.

Then he stopped again.

He saw a figure laying in the floor at the far end of the corridor.

A new figure. It was on the floor near the body of who Leigh had assumed was Dr. Fred Mixter, Chief of Medicine.

He approached slowly. In the darkness, the features came into focus. He saw curly brown hair, a skinny neck, and a large Adam's apple. It was a young man. He was laying on his back, and he was moving, every so slightly. Raspy breaths were turning into moans. Beside him on the tile Leigh saw streaks of blood and knew exactly what had happened. Whoever this was had slipped on Mixter's blood and had hit his head.

Leigh bent down and looked into the face. The eyes were open slightly. The pupils rolled up into the back of his head. The mouth was open, emiting those shallow breaths and soft moans. It was Jimmy Lloyd.

The custodian! Leigh couldn't believe it.

Leigh placed a hand on Jimmy's chest. “It's okay son,” he said softly and was answered by a louder moan. “Just relax, we're gonna get you some help real soon. Everybody gonna get some help.”

Leigh patted the boy's coat pockets and found what he was looking for, pulling out a nice sleak black iPhone inside a white Chicago Cubs phone case. Leigh pushed the button on the phone and got the lockscreen. At the bottom right corner he hit the tiny word: EMERGENCY and got the keypad. At the top right corner he saw, in even tinier letters, words he had feared: NO SIGNAL.

The roof, he realized. The roof is the best chance I have of cellphone service.

Cellphone reception around the Old Reservoir had been a point of derision for town residents for some time. The major phone companies had been promising new towers around the Frenchlick area for years but none had as yet come to fruition.

Jimmy may have Meeker's number, Leigh realized. He definitely had Fred Colbourne's for sure, but Leigh couldn't access these without the passcode to Jimmy's iPhone to get into his Contacts.

I could try things. He thought. 1-2-3-4 maybe.

He had felt Jimmy's wallet in his coat pocket when he was looking for the cellphone.

It's probably his birthday, he mused, I could get that from his license.

The last thing he wanted to do was lock himself out of the phone by trying too many passcodes, he realized.

I need to get to the roof, make the call, and then get back to Annie.

He was going to try and use the keys he had found to get his phone, shoes, and gun first. If he couldn't do this, he would use Jimmy's phone to try 9-1-1- again, and if pressed, to try and hack his passcode and get to his Contacts.

But first, I need to see if Laurie is in her room. He thought. If Myers is after Laurie, I'll know soon enough. If Laurie is gone, you had better believe it is Myers.

Deep down, he was sure he already knew the answer.

Slowly, cautiously, he peeked around the corner to the left, gazing down the long corridor, toward the supply closet where he prayed his only daughter, Rosalita Warner, and her new baby were still safe. The hallway was empty. He started down it.

Each room had a small plastic pocket mounted to the wall beside the door, along with the colored exam-room signal flags that the doctors used to indicate patient status. Only three of the rooms had something in the pockets. One was on the right at the far end—that was Annie's room. The other two were next to each other on the left near the center of the hallway.

Leigh sprinted to these.

When he came to the first door, he looked into the pocket and pulled out a manilla file. The tab on the file read: LOOMIS, SAMUEL MCDONALD

Dr. Loomis you crazy bastard please be in here! Leigh thought as he pushed open the door.

The room was empty. An IV stand with adjoining electronic box gave off a steady whine in the corner. The sheets were disheveled. Hoses ran from the IV bags to a wadded up mesh of bandage and gauze.

Loomis had left. Leigh knew. Crazy old man had torn out his IV and had left.

Brackett had spent just enough time with Dr. Sam Loomis to know why.

He was hunting Myers.

This, as far as Leigh was considered, answered not only the question of where Dr. Loomis was but also of what Brackett was going to find in the next room.

Leigh stepped out of the room and pushed himself into the adjoining room, glancing briefly at the manilla folder in the pocket beside the door that read: STRODE, LAURIE ANGEL

This room was also empty. The sheets disheveled.

There was no Laurie.

There was also no IV stand.

She had brought it with her, Leigh thought optimistically.

He then had the crushing realization that the IV stand and assembly he had seen dashed to bits next to the body of the black nurse had probably been Laurie's.

Can't think about that now, Leigh chided himself. Focus. Gun and phone.

Leigh sprinted back to Annie's room. The keys jingled softly, the shoe covers swishing.

He tried one key after another in the bathroom door. There were at least sixty keys on the key chain. Some he could dismiss outright as being either entirely too large or too small. Some went as far as gliding into the keyhole. None would turn the lock.

When he was completely sure he was back to the key with which he had started, frustration set in.

“Dammit!” He exclaimed, slapping the door with one hand while jiggling the lock with the other.

He pulled Jimmy's phone from his pocket.

Plan B, he thought.

Thunder growled outside.

Great, his mind bemoaned. He sidled to the window. You're headed for the roof, and now it's storming.

Leigh tossed the keys on the floor beside the bathroom door. The things were too heavy to carry for no reason. He walked toward the door, inching it open one more time. The hallway was dark and quiet.

He darted toward the stairwell, briefly pondering whether to check in on Rosalita and Annie and then decided that he shouldn't bother them just yet.

I'll get to the roof, make the call, and then we can all wait till the calvary comes together.

Sheriff Brackett pushed the open the door marked STAIRS and this time he ascended.

Stepping out unto the roof, he was met by a fierce driving rain that nearly took him aback.

Well, he thought, here's the storm.

Leigh held up the phone, squinting at the screen as fat drops stung his face. Still no bars.

The storm's definitely not helping.

He began to circle the roof, holding up the phone in all directions, the gravel hurting his feet.

Still nothing.

Then there came something.

But it wasn't from the phone.

CRACK!

That was a pistol shot. It came from the ground level somewhere. Off in the distance.

Leigh ran to the edge where he thought the sound had come from. The barrier of the edge of the hospital roof was about chest high and nearly a foot thick. He tried to look out and over it, into the parking lot now covered in thick sheets of rain. He could see nothing.

Thunder rolled ahead.

Could be good thing, he thought, someone else may hear the shot and already be calling the police.

He held the phone up and squinted at it again.

Still no reception.

That pistol could have been one of my guy's sidearms, his mind worked. Could be Jack Becker, hospital head of security.

That gave him pause.

Where the fuck is Becker anyway?!

He walked to and fro with the phone.

Still nothing.

But wait.

A flicker.

One bar...

No...now two.

Two bars.

He quickly dialed 9..1

And then he was engulfed in light.

NEXT>> (Coming Soon)

[delu-jean]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Jean x fem!/reader) -> (supposed to be angst but...major fluff) -> 4.9k 

Notes: This chapter is a little longer, there’s an extra cut at the end, and loads of fluff! Hope you enjoy and chapter five is yet to come!! ^^

Ⅲ > Ⅴ 

Jean stood there shocked at the corpse that lay in front of him. How did this even happen? Marco wasn’t that far the last time he checked.

“Is that...Marco?...”

He stood there petrified as his hand clenched. How could this have happened in such a short time?...a lady then asked for his name. Jean was very deep into thought, but eventually gave in.

“Marco...Marco Boddt.”

“Thank you young man.”

---

You left the place where you were last standing. You were still upset because of what happened, but decided to let that go as you watched Jean. He seemed so...helpless. You didn’t need to know much to understand that someone probably died...and Marco if anything (since he wanted to go and check on him).

Instead of forcing him to tell you anything, you put your hand on his shoulder. It showed comfort from a distance which gave enough space. He seemed grateful for your gesture, and looked back at you. Teary eyed, he placed his calloused hand onto yours. The Bonfire was now taking place, and you brought him to an area where you both could sit.

Jean hugged his two knees together, and yet still managed to hold your hand. You didn’t move it though, knowing it was helping him cope.

Sasha and Connie joined not much later, and you all huddled together. You felt the sorrow they expressed and well...you felt such sadness as well. You may have not known everyone, but Marco was still a dear friend to you, heck most of the people in your squad (being Eren, Mikasa, Ymir, etc) were somewhat dear to you. You just, never let them get too close was all. You wished you had let Marco at least. He had always reminded you of Bertholdt...except...he was more optimistic and confident. You truly did enjoy his company, and were sad that it was now gone.

As you all sat, you then saw Bertholdt who stood alone. You sighed as you got up, slipping out of Jean’s grip, on your way to Bertholdt. Yes you were still very angry at him (along with the other two), but you’ve always had a soft spot for Bertholdt. Since he was like an older brother, you could never not forgive him. As soon as you reached him, you gave him a hug. He returned the favour as you whispered:

“Thank you...for warning me in advance. Honestly, I’m still pissed off that you guys didn’t say anything, and did things without my input. But at the same time, your advice did save my behind...somehow,” you chuckled as he nodded.

“I’m sorry Y/n...in truth, I should’ve stayed quiet...but I knew I needed to do something.”

“Yeah...just...no more secrets. Okay?...” he stood there as you sighed yet again.

“Let’s go,” on your way back, you hear as the two teased Jean.

Halfway through, Bertholdt stopped and told you he needed to meet with Reiner, whereas Jean had noticed your presence and tried pushing the two away.

“Ahhh, so that’s your competition. Although, I don’t think incest is a good idea-”

“He’s not her actual brother...idiot,” Sasha scolded which caused the two to argue.

“Guys, shut up. Y/n is coming,” they both quiet down as you approached, smirking at each other in “secrecy.”

You sat beside Jean still concerned. He seemed to relax a little now that you were beside him. That being the case, you finally asked:

“So, how are you feeling?” he looked at you, and then your hands.

“Ah yeah...I’m feeling better,” he cleared his voice. He looked shy for some reason...maybe it wasn’t that, but him being vulnerable?

“What about you?...I know Marco was also a good friend of yours.”

“Hmm...honestly, I miss him a lot. If he were here, he would say something motivating, inspirational even. I wish I got to know him a lot better seeing how nice he was. Well...regardless...I’ll make sure that lives like his don’t go in vain.”

“Mhm,” you scooched in closer.

“Are you still going to join the military police?” you asked as he looked troubled. Maybe he wanted to join the Garrison? You stretched your arms as he stared you down.

“If it helps, I’m joining the Survey Corps.”

“What, why?” a tone of concern splashed over as you eyed him.

“Well...I think everyone...deserves a fair chance...a fair chance at life. And if titans are the obstacles weighing down that opportunity, then I'll try doing anything that will help you guys get one step closer...I really will.”

If only you could do this back at home, in Marely. But killing off titans would never be the answer, not there at least. The heavy boulders they placed on each, and everyone of your shoulders, would never allow the chance of a fair life. One that you have always wanted. So if you couldn’t live out that dream (for yourself at least), you would try to help those here.

At first, you would never have thought to do such a thing, but as time passed, you accepted this place as one with just as many problems as your own. They weren’t that different, except Paradis had a better chance at a newer start. You then looked up to see the stars glisten so freely. One day, you hoped you would be able to as your hand reached for the sky.

“I think...I think I know what I want to do, thanks for that,” honestly, you had hoped he would pick the Mountain Police. It was a lot safer compared to the corpse, and well...it was something he had always gravitated towards. You didn’t want him to die out there...you couldn’t imagine him doing so.

Something you found a little funny was the difference between Jean and Bertholdt. Bertholdt and you were very close, and you would never want him to die. But if he ever did, you were prepared for such an event. But imagining Jean going through death was something that you couldn’t even bring up. You knew Jean was somewhat special to you, but in what way exactly? Maybe in a...no. You couldn’t. You couldn’t think such thoughts.

“Here, we should get going,” he offers his hand and helps you up.

You both walked to your quarters. While doing so, you could see that Jean seemed on edge. You weren’t sure as to why, but by the time you reached the door, all you could do was stare. It seemed as if both of you needed something...but the real question was “what?” What did you both need.

He then put his hand in his pockets, looking downwards as he mumbled the words:

“Well...goodnight.”

“Night.”

He started to make his way, and so did you. Before you could close the door, he caught it mid-way exclaiming:

“Y/n, wait!”

He gives you a small violet. It was a little roughed up (due to his pockets) but you admired it anyway. The way the petals clung, and they way he looked so disappointed in himself (for roughing it up) made you smile. You then put it on top of your right ear, adjusting it the best you could without a mirror, to then asked:

“Does it look good?” he moved it once more and swept a strand of your hair.

“Yeah, much better,” he then drew back quickly as you felt your heartbeat.

“Sleep well, okay? Jean?”

“Yeah, you too.”

---

It was finally the day where everyone had chosen their regiment. Annie ended up joining the mountain police. Based on what they told you, she would be a spy from a different (and more “important”) standpoint. Jean however, decided on the scout regiment, along with the rest of your friends.

“Jean, are you sure? The interior is a lot safer if anything, you should go before it’s too late-”

“You can’t convince me otherwise,” he winked as you shook your head.

“Plus, I can’t let you guys have all of the fun, killing titans? Yeah right, also, I won’t let Eren beat me.”

‘Oh...he must mean Mikasa,’ you thought.

At this point in time, you decided to accept that you had feelings for Jean. Though it was hard at first (because of your boundaries), you eventually gave in with each moment you spent. You were smitten with his charms, laugh, and smile. They kept drawing you in and never disappoint.

You weren’t going to lie, you were scared. Not only were your walls down to such an extent, but you were getting so attached to Paradis. Him just being one of the sources of that connection. It terrified you alright, but that warmth Jean gave, comforted you instead.

The way he would always tease you, make your day brighter, and just grab your attention in general, made you happy. But what kept you anchored was both your fears, and reality. Hearing that he wanted to beat Eren, reminded yet again as to who he liked. Mikasa. Even though you knew she loved the hot head, Jean liked her, and if you could support him, that’s all that mattered.

You crossed your arms in disappointment.

“If you want to beat him, there are so many other ways.”

“Like?”

“Your looks?” you both stood there in an awkward silence. He then tried to laugh things off.

“Okay okay, I’ll be truthful, I can’t let you go out there alone-”

“I have Reiner and Bertholdt-”

“Nonsense, you may have those two, but you’ll need a Jean as well.” You laughed at his remark and so did he.

“No but...being a part of the interior would be a safer option, plus...isn’t that what you’ve always gone for?”

He looked back at the others and said: “Yeah but, now this is what I’m going for,” you smiled a little worried, but knowing Jean, you guys could pull through together (hopefully).

Erwin said the last of his congratulatory speech, and you all headed for the stables. You were getting ready for the expedition that was yet to come. You watched as Eren, Mikasa, and Armin grouped together. You and Jean had just started walking, so the others (along with the trio) were in front of you.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve all decided to join the corps?”

“Of course, why else would we be here?”

“Then Jean, Marco, and Annie joined the interior?-”

Jean then appeared in front of them along with you.

“Marco’s dead.” he said bluntly. Eren looked very shocked.

“Marco’s not, you must be joking-”

“Yes...he is…” you ensure as your arms crossed.  

“I wish I could say I wasn’t, but he is.”

Your cloaks were then given out. “The wings of freedom…” Hopefully, one day, you could grasp onto that feeling along with the people who stood beside you.

---

“Listen Mikasa, unlike you we’re not willing to just throw our lives away for Eren.”

“We need a reason so we don’t hesitate when the time comes.”

“Show us your worth.”

You felt guilty while listening to this. Yes, you would “try” to sacrifice yourself for any comerdae, but when it came to Eren, it would probably be best if another titan ate him (you cherished him as you friend, but also acknowledged him as your enemy).

Yes, it may sound cruel, but your mission would be back in operation if he did so...but then again, did you really want to succeed in such a cause? The look on Reiner’s face reminded you of what your purpose was, and you sat there composed as Jean went on.

You admired his character. He really had grown up a lot during the time he’s spent here. Everyone agreed with his statements whereas Eren took it as a hard pill to swallow. You then all went to your horses (needed for the expedition) and started preparing for the fight ahead.

He was saddling up and looked over at your side, you caught him in the act and made a face. He made things so obvious which amused you. He shot up immediately as you proceeded to tease him.

Show us your worth,” you playfully said while giving him a dramatic stare.

“H-Hey! I did my best, quit yapping,” you both laughed as he came up and pulled you in by your belt. You were baffled (and flustered) to then see him tighten your buckle.

“Just in case...I can’t lose you to another incident...like I almost did last time.”

He probably said that due to the fact Marco was now gone...you nodded and grabbed his hand before it left you, shaking it. He was a little confused, but then heard the words:

“You can trust me, so don’t you dare wipe my trust away,” he chuckled at what you said and tightened his grip.  

“I won’t. So stay safe out there, okay?”

“I will, and you better as well-”

“OhOho, am I intruding on this lover’s quarrel? I sincerely apologize with my utmost apology,” Connie teased as Sasha joined in:

“Jean, how dare you. Stealing my girl away? You can’t! She makes the best pancakes there are! Don’t do this to me!” Sasha sobbed as Jean turned red

“OH SHUT UP!”

To your surprise, Reiner jumped in.

“They have a point, if you’re going to take our Y/n away, you better have our approval if anything. Remember, no sneaking out past 9-”

“Says you,” you scowled as he laughed. You have to admit, when Reiner was in his warrior mode, you hated it. He was such a jerk and you needed that personality to disappear, and be on its way. But when he was himself, he was genuinely kind. Yet every kind smile had it’s fair share of frowns. You still wanted to know more about him, and hey, if this Island deserved a chance, so did he.

“I, ugh. Let’s get going, I don’t need a lecture from Captain Levi.”

You laughed and followed along with everyone else.

Jean POV

I liked Y/n...if you couldn’t tell by now. I knew I could make things obvious, but was pretty sure I could cover up my tracks. I’d say I’m pretty good at that...yeah…. Well, regardless, I’ve known for a little while, but wouldn’t say it’s been a very long time.

Even though I had confronted my own feelings, I never tried doing the opposite. It’s not that I didn’t want to confess, rather, some things held me back. One: there’s never been a good time to say anything. As of recently, things have been so hectic and well, Y/n and I have barely gotten any alone time. Two: I was a little insecure when I started liking her. There were just so many other guys who seemed more beneficial than me...even EREN if I had to admit...no...I take that last part back. Lastly, three: I didn’t want my feelings to ruin our friendship.

I really did like her though. Also, I’m not going to deny that I did have a thing for Mikasa (way back when), but after getting to know Y/n better (and myself in general), that feeling of pure attraction faded away. She’s a nice girl, but not my type of woman (whereas Y/n was).

I heard the war cries of those beside, behind, and in front of me. Each filled with ambition along with mine. Not knowing if this would be their last day, or if there would be a tomorrow, made their yells and screams even louder.

I watched as everyone around me poured their hearts into their calls, while Y/n simply sat there, prepping for the battle ahead. From an outsider’s perspective, she might have looked scared, but knowing her, she was just focused. Trying to get a piece of mind before another war commenced.

I rode off with my squad, things were going according to plan until titans started showing up one, after another. Luckily I was able to escape in the midst of it all. Though terrified, I tried my best to keep myself level headed. Even so, I almost died in the process. A titan was on its way to crush both my horse and I, but one of my cremates killed it. Unfortunately, the next titan to come took him out as I ran.

` I was then riding on my own, hoping I could scope out Y/n if the chance was given. I searched everywhere while riding faster, and faster. Although no traces were found, I did bump into Reiner, Armin, and a large titan.

“Why is she running infront of us?”

Armin then explained his theory, about someone else hosting the controls of that titan. Although I wanted to think of something else, I couldn’t just disregard his statement. This being the case, next thing you knew, I was a diversion trying to get the best of the female titan. I swung from her backside trying to get to her nape, but she protected it as I flew.

To my failure, Reiner decided to be a suicidal maniac (yet again) and plunged straight towards her.

“You maniac-” only seconds later, did he escape and we were on our way to find a safe zone.

We ended up going to a remote place with no titans, a couple of trees, and well...ourselves (along with the horses). We sat there hopeless wondering about what our next move would be.

‘I wonder where Y/n is…no...we need to find a way to get out of here first, then I can think about her…’

“Only two horses eh...I guess one-”

“Jean, I found your horse while riding. It seemed terrified.”

“My horse, Buchwald!” I calmed him down by brushing on his mane.

“I’m surprised you came," Reiner said to Christa.

“Well, I wasn’t too far and had Jean’s horse as well. I simply followed it, and it led me to you guys.”

“Wait, Christa, did you happen to see Y/n by any chance?” I asked worried and she thought to herself.

“Hmmm, last time I recalled, she went west from my squad. I haven’t seen her since but, if she’s with Ymir, she should be fine!! Don’t worry too much.”

Even though I felt uneasy, Christa’s gratefulness (towards us being alive) took my mind off of things. We then started to ride around the field, looking for any squad nearby. Luckily, we spot one in the nick of time, and join them.

---

“Yeah, I’m sure the commander is looking for shade, that way, he can set up a picnic for his scouts.”

“That’s very...unlikely,” Armin replied.

‘Great, we have to sit in these trees for gosh knows how long. This is going to be a pain,’ I swung along with the others.

Titans sprawled all around us and we all sat waiting for other orders. Not only wasI agitated at that, but also at the fact I haven’t seen Y/n even once. Where could she have gone? Last time I saw, she didn’t venture too far from me...well...that was at the entrance, so who am I kidding.

I looked around the trees to see many cadets, but not Y/n. Armin caught me doing so, and sighed as I then looked back at him.

“What?”

“You’re worried about Y/n-”

“Maybe I should use my ODM gear to look for her-”

“Jean,” Armin interrupted.

“I’m sure she’s fine, she’s with her comrades. Plus, have a little faith in her. She’s a fighter you know?” he smiled as I sighed.

“Yeah...she is...really is,” I then grinned hoping that...she still was one...literally.

“It’s not that though...I just...don’t trust her surroundings,” I peered down and saw almost a dozen titans. Armin nodded and then said:

“Yeah, and we shouldn’t either.”

I started to think to myself. I knew he meant that in a more “literal” way, but looking at it in a “metaphorical” stance, got me thinking differently. I know I’ve gotten to “know” Y/n during the time given, but have I really gotten to “know” her?

I think I did?...but then again, Y/n has always had a side I’ve never been able to reach. You know, she’s always talked about finding freedom for others, giving them the chances they deserved...but never talked about what she wanted. I hoped...truly hoped that maybe I could help her reach that feeling as well.

---

We all retreat in failure. The female titan had gotten away, and now here we were. So many lives lost for such a useless operation.

‘No Jean...let’s not think like that...I wonder where Y/n is,” I started riding faster to the front of the brigade, hoping I could find her.

I passed horse by horse, person by person, yet to my dismay...nothing. I broke a sweat while riding to see Ymir. Reminding myself as to what Christa had said, I approached and asked:

“Where’s Y/n?”

“Ah, she’s in the cart over there. Don’t cry too much,” she smirked as my eyes widened.

‘Why the hell was she laughing?...the hell is wrong with her?...’

I rode towards the cart Ymir pointed to. I didn’t think to look through any, because I had assumed she would be alive. I gave myself a moment to prepare myself for the worst. Even though I did so, I knew nothing would be able to prepare myself for her death...never…. I could feel my eyes water, still shut, ready to open until I heard a voice.

“Jean?”

“Y/N!? YOU’RE ALIVE!?” my eyes widened almost immediately.

“Yeah...I lost my horse and hurt my ankle during the process. Ymir basically carried me the entire time, but once we had decided to retreat, I told her to drop me off here.”

‘That wench-damn, she really got me thinking differently,’ I sighed and nodded my head.

“Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing to, ouch-” she winced and my reaction was to swoop in, but I pulled back as she adjusted the cloth given.

“Okay then...I’ll ride beside you until we get back,” the person riding the horse then winked at me and I panicked.

Hoping Y/n didn’t see, she grinned saying: “Alright, don’t miss me too much though.”

“Haha, I won’t.”

‘Because I already have...so much…’

Original POV

When you had gotten in the walls, you weren’t welcomed with the best greeting. Jean had made it his priority to shield you, and you were grateful for that. As soon as you made it back to the stables, before the medical team could take you, Jean insisted he would instead.

You weren’t exactly sure as to why, but you didn’t oppose it. He carried you by resting his right hand under you, and his left behind you, making sure he didn’t crush your legs in the process.

“Could you...um...cling onto me?” you quickly draped your arms around his neck as he started walking. It only felt like seconds before you both appeared at a field. Tall grass roamed everywhere, along with an assortment of both insects, and flowers (more grass if anything though).

He analyzed the area to then shake his head.

“Ah, I’m really bad at this,” he muttered.

“Sorry…” he placed you on the ground (gently) and then took off his cape. After doing so, he then placed you on top of his cloak, and you giggled.

You wouldn’t deny that it was cute. Even though your clothes were splattered in blood, he still put in the effort so you wouldn't dirty yourself even more. He seemed very stiff, it looked as if he was nervous. You weren’t sure as to why exactly, but regardless, you gave him the time he needed to adjust. You teasingly patted to your left, and he quickly moved over to sit. You let out a small laugh at his attempt, which put him at ease.

“It’s very pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you are.”

“I’m sorry, what?-”

“I-I mean, well...UGH DAMN IT!”

You sat there stunned. Did he really meant what he said? You looked at him shyly as he started to mumble to himself. What if he did really mean it?...But Mikasa?...you were so confused. Very actually. He exhaled and looked back at you.

“Is your ankle feeling better?”

“Yeah...I guess so,” you both sat in silence, until he said:

“Y/n...you’re a good friend,” all optimism had gone down the roof as you sat there confirming your thoughts about him, and Mikasa. He could tell the mood had instantly changed, and tried fixing it.  

“No, wait, that’s not what I mean damn it. Here goes nothing...Y/n...I like you...like you a lot to the point it drives me crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you throughout the entire expedition. Wondering if you were safe or not...if I would make it out alive in time...”

“You know, originally, I had thought that I would need the right time to tell you how I felt, but I soon realized that time wasn’t going to wait for me. It may sound a little cheesy, but we could die today or tomorrow. That being the case, I needed to tell you as soon as I could.”

You looked at him as his expression had softened. Although he was looking at the sun setting in front of you, you could tell his heart was seeking elsewhere. That place being you. This feeling... the warmth...it felt so familiar, but instead of feeling foreign, it felt natural. You gazed as fingers played with the grass that lay beside you.

You felt as ease knowing that he liked you back, and that the Mikasa ordeal was over with...hopefully...since that doubt still ran through your mind, you asked:

“Wait, you do?-”

“Before you say anything, I need to prepare myself.”

“For?”

“Rejection.”

“What?” you laughed as he closed his eyes.

“Of course, only a girl such as yourself would give up on this beautiful masterpiece. That’s how special you are.” he winked as you rolled your eyes.

“No but...I am being serious. Although I confronted that way I felt not too long ago, I’ve always had this lingering feeling in my gut...for you…” he blushed and you followed. But just to make sure:

“What about Mikasa? Didn’t you want to beat Eren?...what happened to that.” a little scared for his response, he said:

“Oh, I meant in general. I gotta try and surpass him at least. He may be a titan but well...I’m Jean,” you both laughed.  

“So...what about you?”

“I...can’t...I like someone else…”

He paused, shocked. Sure rejection was one thing, but thinking you liked someone else made his heart sink.

“It’s Bertholdt I’m assuming?..”

You shook your head.

“AHH DON’T TELL ME IT’S EREN!!” you laughed and kissed his cheek. You could feel his face burn up after you doing so.

“No, I’m just kidding. I like you too, a lot...a lot more than you know.”

He held his cheek for a moment, it almost seemed as if...he wasn’t functioning (A/N: ExE JEaN hAS StopPEd WorkiNg). He then looked at you shocked, and beamed brightly (to the point it was blinding, but in a good way).

“You mean it!?”

“Of course-WOAH!”

He lifted you up out of joy, you winced a bit (bc of your ankle) and he immediately stopped. He’s a tad worried (but more excited) and immediately asked: “sorry, you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” the cape that was draped around you, was now wrapped around your figure since he adjusted it. He then puts his head in the crook of your neck and said: “thank you Y/n…”

“For what exactly?...”

“For not rejecting me,” you laughed and you could feel him smile on you.  

“No but in all honesty, for being there. You’ve always had my back in times where I never knew I needed it. Humbled me when I should’ve done so myself, and cared for me when I was reckless. And now...you’ve given me the best gift I could ever have.”

“That being?”

“You of course.”

Your smile softened as you kissed his cheek yet again, making his head raise, meeting eye to eye.

“You’re one of, if not the best thing that’s ever happened to me...Jean”

ExtRA (in dot jots/hc’ish):

Warning: slangish grammar

EVERYONE WAS SPYING

Y'ALL COME BACK TO SEE CONNIE'S BALD HEAD WAVING THROUGH A WINDOW

JEan yELlEd aT thE PooR Boy

He (being Connie) then rats everyone out and they come forth (with such spying eyes)

Eren then yells: “SO ARE YOU GUYS DATING NOW, OR WHAT!? WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOREVER!”

“WHAT!?” you both exclaim

Sasha *visibly crying for a dramatic effect*

Christa looking like a saint blessing a marriage between two doves

Ymir: “y’all ain't slick, that’s all imma say.”

Bertholdt be giving older brother vibes, and don’t say anything. Reiner on the other hand, makes a face (teasing of course) and walks away with Berty (it’s like, giving his baby away...which is illegal)

(Jean feeling like he’s committed a crime after Bertholdt’s reaction-) 

Mikasa smiles for once, and is awaiting for your answer

“Well-”

“Yes, yes we are...if he’s okay with it-”

“O-of course I am,” you both blush as Eren rolls his eyes (teasingly)

“You guys are like a bunch of kids. Alright, we should head to bed now. Y’all have all the time in the world to be lovey dovey, but for now, let’s hit the hay.”

For once, Jean agrees with eren who gives you both a playful grin

“Especially you horse boy, you gon need it-”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY!?” -a very angry JeAn

Armin taps your shoulder and whispers “congrats,” as he catches up with the other two

Jean is visually embarrassed, but then looks at you and feels nothing but happiness, along with yourself. One you hoped would never disappear.

Ⅲ > Ⅴ

[iturbide]

United in Song

okay so this has been in my drafts for I don’t even know how long and I’m tired of it sitting there collecting dust, so please enjoy this fluffy 3H platonic one-shot.

/////

If there was one thing Dorothea missed about the opera, it was the audience.  There was a certain kind of thrill that came with standing on the stage, staring out into the darkened crowd while the music swelled beneath her voice and feeling their tension, knowing that they held their collective breaths in anticipation, in wonder of her song…there was nothing else quite like it, in her experience.  And while she didn’t really want to go back to that life of endless practices and performances, of cutthroat rivalries and patrons as dangerous as they were wealthy, she felt a little pang standing in the Garreg Mach cathedral, singing her heart out for absolutely no one.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true.  The monastery choir had finally gotten a few more members, and as the nun in charge dismissed them for the day, Annette and Hilda hurried over before she could wander off.  “Wow, Dorothea!  You were really amazing!!” the little redhead gushed.

“Aw, thanks, Annie,” Dorothea giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.  “You were both great, too!”

“You’re so sweet,” Hilda smiled.  “But we couldn’t hold a candle to you!  Your voice was so beautiful -- and I swear, it filled the whole cathedral.”

Well, that might explain all the sharp looks and decrescendo gestures she’d been getting from the director.

“It’s really a shame nobody else was around to hear,” Annette sighed. 

“I know exactly what you mean.”  Dorothea scanned the rows of empty pews as they walked toward the doors, feeling again that ache of longing.  Even when they did get to stand before an audience, something told her they would just be the choral lead to a devotional hymn for some religious service or another.  “Sometimes I really wish we could just…go out and perform, you know?  Show off a little, hear the applause…”

“…well, why couldn’t we?”

Dorothea paused at the top of the steps, reeling her mind back from another stage dream to focus on Hilda.  “I didn’t think they did that here.”

“Not that I’ve seen.  Or heard about,” Annette agreed.

“So why not do something about it?” Hilda asked.  “Put on a musical performance!  There’s lots of places that would work, like the lawn outside the classrooms, or the walk along the dormitories…”

“Would that really bring in an audience, though?” Annette pointed out.  “Back in Fhirdiad you’d see performers doing shows on street corners, but they never really drew crowds or anything.”

“And wouldn’t it be nice to have a real stage, and a real audience?” Dorothea sighed.  It was a quiet walk across the bridge to the monastery…and the whole way, she just kept turning Hilda’s suggestion over and over.  It really would be nice to have an opportunity to perform…maybe she could ask Professor Manuela about it--

“This is it!!”

Dorothea jumped at Annette’s excited squeak, whirling just in time to see her grab something off the Bulletin Board.  “What is?” she asked, taking the parchment and smoothing it out. 

“A flier for the Weapons Tourney?” Hilda read over her shoulder.  Apparently this month’s challenge was for axe-wielders, and while the pink-haired noble might excel, something told Dorothea that she wouldn’t go anywhere near it without proper incentive from the Professor.

“No!  …well, I mean, yes, that’s what it is, but I mean -- this is the answer!  We have a music tournament!”

“…a music tournament?” Dorothea repeated.

“Yeah!” Annette giggled.  “We could have sign-ups, and people could bring their instruments or sing, and it could have brackets just like they do in the training grounds, only they’d be competing with their music!  And the audience response could be how the winner’s picked!”

Dorothea felt a smile dawn across her face.  “…Annie, that’s brilliant!  We could get a sponsor to help judge ties, and offer a grand prize for the winner…”

“We could make fliers the way they do for the training ground matches, too!” Hilda added.

“I bet if we ask around the monastery, we could get tons of sign-ups -- and I’m sure lots of people would want to see it!” Annette insisted.  “Ooh, this is so exciting!!”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Dorothea agreed.  “And I’m sure if we join forces, we can make it into a dazzling show.”

As they put their heads together to plan, for the first time in ages, she felt a thrill of excitement for what lay ahead.  Garreg Mach might not have much appreciation for music now -- but if they got their way, Dorothea would make sure that changed.

-----

“A music show?  Oh, you mean like they’ve got at the fair?  Hey, count me in!  Are you gonna have snacks?”

“No, Raph,” Dorothea sighed. 

“You sure?  Everybody likes good food -- I bet you’d get a ton of people to come if they could eat while they watched.”

She shook her head, fighting back a smile.  It was hard to be frustrated with him when he was so enthusiastic, but she did wish he’d think about more than food.  “Do they have snacks for the weapon tournaments at the training grounds?”

“Heck yeah they do!” he laughed.  “I never miss a tourney, they’ve always got something for the people in the stands…”

“…huh.”  She hadn’t known that.  Maybe they could ask about refreshments: after all, everything else had been going splendidly so far.  Professor Manuela had been over the moon when they approached her with the idea, and had swiftly appointed herself as their ‘impartial’ judge (said with a wink that made Dorothea certain she was far more partial than she’d ever admit to being); while the former diva took to planning and preparations, including venue selection and construction, she left the three students in charge of gauging interest and getting early sign-ups so they could start preparing their brackets.  Hilda, rather expectedly, had complained of feeling poorly, so Dorothea had agreed to help out in canvasing the Golden Deer…which had led her, rather unexpectedly, to Raphael and his surprisingly helpful suggestion.

“Alright,” she agreed, making a note for later.  “I’ll see what we can do about snacks, then.”

“All right!!” he cheered.  “You’re the best, Dorothea!”

“Aw, thank you,” she smiled.  “But would you want to take part?  You know, be up on the stage in front of the audience?  We’re looking for any kind of musical talent, whether you sing or play an instrument…”

His face scrunched up for a minute in deep, somewhat painful-looking thought.  “Hmmm…I’m mostly good for muscle,” he shrugged.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love music!  I’m just not much good at makin’ it -- oh, hey, have you asked Bernadetta yet?”

“Bernie?”

“Yeah!  Oh, man, she’s got this little brass thingy she plays -- she was playin’ it in the greenhouse one day, an’ I heard it from all the way in the training grounds!  It was the best thing I’d ever heard!”

“Interesting,” Dorothea mused, scribbling another little note down.

“You didn’t know?”

“Bernie’s pretty shy about her talents,” Dorothea confided.  “Seems she’s got all kinds of hidden ones…”

“Uh…if you go ask her, can you maybe…not tell her I told you?” he asked nervously.  “See, uh…she got pretty upset when I found out, and made me promise not to tell anybody, but then you came talking about music an’ stuff and I just got real excited about maybe seein’ her up there an’ hearin’ it again, so…”

“Oh, Raph, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she giggled.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks, Dorothea,” he beamed.  “You really are the best.”

-----

“M-music show?  Me?  Perform!?  How did you find out?  Did Raphael tell you!?” Bernadetta demanded through the tiny crack between the doors of her room.

“Raphael?  I haven’t talked to him,” Dorothea lied.  “Hilda’s asking around with the Golden Deer, since they’re her classmates, just like Annette’s asking the Blue Lions and I’m asking all my fellow Eagles.  We’re trying to get a list together of students who want to take part.  Do you have any musical talents, Bernie?”

“N-n-no!” she stammered.  “Nope, not me, Bernie’s just good for staying out of the way, yes indeed…”

“I think you’re good for a lot more than that,” Dorothea insisted.  “I know you’ve got so much talent, and it’s such a shame to hide it all away.  Maybe you sing in here, or play an oboe when we’re all away from the dorms…”

“Trumpet,” the archer mumbled.  “B-but I could never get up in front of so many people!”

“Oh, but from on stage, under the lights, you can’t even see most of the audience -- and wouldn’t it be great to share all that talent with the whole academy?”

“Maybe for you!” the archer squeaked.  “All those people out there in the dark, staring at me, and no place to hide?  That s-sounds terrifying!”

…Dorothea actually hadn’t thought about that.  She was so used to basking in the attention…but that would be scary for someone as shy as Bernadetta.  “That’s okay,” she smiled.  “You don’t have to.  But…would you maybe come to watch?  Ferdie and I have already signed up to take part, and we could always use someone to cheer for us.”

“…m-maybe,” came the muffled reply.

“And if you do change your mind about being on stage, you know we’ll both be cheering you on, right?” she coaxed.  “Annette even told me that Felix promised to come watch the performances, and you know how he feels about everything that isn’t training.  We’d all really love it if you joined in.”

Silence from the other side of the doors.  Had she pushed too hard…?

“I’ll…I-I’ll think about it.”

Beaming, Dorothea made a note on her sign-up sheet.  “That’s all we’d ask for.  Just let me know, okay?”

And maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard the smallest sound of agreement before the doors clicked firmly shut between them. 

-----

Even in her fantasies, Dorothea never could have dreamed things would go this well.  Not only did they get enough sign-ups to make a full five-round bracket, the whole monastery was buzzing with anticipation days before the event.  It reminded her a little of Enbarr the week before a Mittelfrank production, where every group she passed on the street seemed to be talking about the upcoming show -- whether it was about their excitement to see the spectacle or despair over not getting one of the endlessly coveted (and frightfully limited) tickets.  Here, thankfully, seating was hardly an issue, since Professor Manuela had managed to secure the Reception Hall for the event: the whole student body could fit there with standing room to spare, even with the stage taking up the front quarter.

Come the morning of the show, posters listing the contestants appeared on every bulletin board, and Dorothea scanned the starting matches before the thought of breakfast even occurred to her.  She recognized more than a few names: Ferdinand of course, and herself (naturally), as well as Lorenz (unfortunately), Hilda, Annette, and even Bernie.

It was all so exciting, she could hardly bear it.

Time crawled by while she waited for the tournament to begin.  Before noon she’d warmed up, improvised a few little tunes as practice, and rehearsed a few of her favorite songs in preparation.  By the time the Reception Hall opened to the competitors, she’d chosen her starting and ending arrangements and decided on the pieces she would use if she faced any real competition.  And once the doors opened and the audience began to crowd into the available seats, she felt her heart begin to race in anticipation of what was soon to come. 

She didn’t even mind that she had to wait.  The first match, to her delight, featured Annette and Bernie: blushing fiercely, the little red-head made her way cheerfully through an obviously original tune, while Dorothea’s fellow Eagle stuck to a familiar Imperial melody, squeezing her eyes shut tight and playing her trumpet at the stage rather than the audience.  In spite of that, it was a remarkable performance, and Bernie might have won just by virtue of Raphael’s enthusiastic applause -- but his thunderous cheer startled the poor recluse and sent her bolting from the stage before the match could be officially declared, forfeiting her chance to proceed.  But that might have been for the best, she supposed: Bernie clearly wasn’t big on the spotlight. 

The rest of the first round and all of the second went smoothly enough.  Though she didn’t bother watching every pair, she saw both Ferdinand and Annette proceed on to the quarterfinals, while Hilda lost to Lorenz in her second bout (though the noblewoman hardly seemed bothered by the loss).  Dorothea’s own matches barely required any effort on her part to win: she’d spent so long practicing her favorite songs from her favorite operas in the days leading up to this competition, but a few simple melodies were all it took to ensure that she made it through the preliminaries.  Even against her third opponent, all it took was the chorus from an Adrestian folksong to seal her victory...though Annette lost her own bout against Ferdinand in the same round.  Dorothea congratulated her all the same, and promised to win for Annie’s sake -- perhaps a bold promise from anyone else, but one that the former Mittelfrank diva felt assured she could keep.

And sure enough, in the semifinals she not only faced her fellow Eagle but beat him handily with one of the arias she’d so carefully prepared.  He lost quite gracefully, too, applauding her as enthusiastically as the audience itself and conceding even before Profesor Manuela could announce the final judgment.  And with the round done, Dorothea made her way back behind the stage, humming to herself as she waited for the intermission to end and the finals to begin…

“Congratulations on sweeping the competition, Dorothea.”

She paused, turning to see the leader of the Golden Deer House grinning at her from a few feet away.  Mustering up a pleasant enough smile, she offered a nod in greeting.  “Why, thank you, Claude.  Are you here to wish Lorenz well before I crush him?”

The nobleman blinked.  “Why would I do that?  Lorenz got knocked out in the last round.” 

Dorothea stared at him for a long, silent moment.  “To who?” she demanded, hunting about for a bracket that might give her an answer--

“...me, actually.”

Slowly, carefully, she turned again to face the leader of the Golden Deer.  “Guess you weren’t watching the match,” he chuckled, hefting an odd lute-like instrument.  “Lorenz was...less than thrilled with the outcome, if it helps.”

Actually, it just made her regret all the more that she hadn’t paid attention: she’d been looking forward to seeing his face when he finally lost.  “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order for you, too, then,” she said, turning away from him again.  “May the best musician win.”

“Oh, uh...about that.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he drummed his fingertips along the neck of his instrument.  “I was...well.  I was wondering how you’d feel about calling it a draw.”

A thin smile carved its way across her face.  “Are you that confident you can beat me, Claude?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.  “I have no doubt that you’d mop the floor with me.”  She felt sure he was flattering her -- but she waited all the same, watching his grin soften almost shyly, though it still didn’t quite touch his eyes.  “I was just...hoping I could perform with you, instead of having to compete against you.  Y’know, everything here at the monastery is about pitting us against each other: the weapon tourneys, the fishing competition, and now this...I feel like we could put on a better show working together than we could separately trying to one-up each other.  You can have the prize, too, if you want,” he added.  “Pretty sure you’d win it anyway, but...what do you say?”

Beyond the curtain, she heard Professor Manuela take the stage again and announce the final round to the audience.  Claude only watched Dorothea, though, seeming content to be patient and wait for her even as their names rang out over the wild cheering of the crowd.

And at last she smiled, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.  “How are you at improvising with that lute of yours?”

“If you can sing a few bars, I can probably make something work,” he grinned. 

“Why don’t we put that to the test?”

“With pleasure,” he agreed, bowing playfully before offering his arm to her.  Returning the gesture with a teasing curtsy of her own, Dorothea accepted -- and they walked out onto the stage together, applause washing over them in waves of wondrous sound.  They parted smoothly, Claude taking up his instrument and strumming a few notes to ensure it was properly in tune before looking expectantly to her, waiting for her lead; Dorothea turned her own attention to the darkness, savoring the anticipation of the shadowed audience before her...and finally beginning to sing, the somber melody echoing throughout the crowded reception hall. 

“Reach for my hand, I’ll soar away, Into the dawn, oh I wish I could stay…”

A soft chord joined in, the notes as sweet and clear as her own...and yet it did not overpower her voice: instead it seemed to carry the words higher, elevating the music in ways she had not heard since she left the Mittelfrank Opera House.  She did not falter, though: instead she continued, allowing a smile to creep into her voice as she sang.

“Here in cherished halls, in peaceful days I fear the edge of dawn, knowing time betrays…”

“Is this really gonna be the last song we do?” Claude asked, his voice carrying out into the dark and startling her back to reality.  “Come on, Dorothea, we’ve gotta liven it up a little!”

Even as he spoke, his fingers flew over the strings, keeping the key but tumbling into a bright, rousing accompaniment.  He winked at her when she turned to stare at him, repeating the same refrain in invitation...and though she’d only ever heard the piece as a wandering lament before, she could not deny his compelling harmony. 

Their music rang through the reception hall, her voice rising into the rafters on the strum of lute strings...and for the first time since she’d come to the Officer’s Academy, Dorothea felt that familiar, wonderful thrill again as the enraptured crowd watched them perform their duet on the stage.  

-----

In the fortnight following the tourney, Dorothea had become the most popular girl in Garreg Mach.  It seemed like every young man, noble birth or otherwise, wanted a moment of her time, a scrap of her attention...and, of course, a chance to hear her sing again.  

While they’d agreed to a draw before ever taking the stage, Claude had gracefully conceded when Professor Manuela declared Dorothea the winner.  It had bothered her when it happened -- all the more for how she couldn’t correct the matter over the riotous applause -- and try as she might over the intervening days, she’d still been unable to set the record straight with anyone she spoke with (aside from Hilda, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear it).  But strangest of all was the fact, despite now having an audience eager to hear her perform again...she couldn’t find that thrill anymore.  It had been there while she was on stage with Claude, but in every performance since -- no matter how many people she had hanging on her every note -- she just felt the same hollow sort of yearning she had in the cathedral before all of this began. 

Dorothea sighed as she made her way out of the dining hall, taking the stairs down to the fishing pond and wandering toward the dormitories.  All the attention did get tiring after a while; luckily the grounds seemed deserted this afternoon, and she stretched her arms high as she tipped her head back, breathing in the crisp autumn air while the sun warmed her face and the soft sound of music drifted by…

She stopped, scanning the lawn and the path along the row of dorms.  No one was there that she could see, but she could hear the strum of lute strings; she hurried on, listening to the music grow louder and louder until she felt certain she was close -- but the sound was too clear to be coming from behind the closed doors, and there was still no one around that she could see.  “Claude?” she called, raising her voice as much as she dared. 

The music stopped.  “Dorothea?” the nobleman’s voice replied -- not from beside or behind her, but from above.  

Tilting her head back and shading her eyes, she stared at the young man peering at her over the eaves of the dormitory roof.  “What are you doing up there?” she asked. 

“Playing,” he said. 

“How did you even get up there?  And why are you playing on the roof, for that matter?”

“It’s complicated,” he shrugged.  “...well, alright, it’s not that complicated, but...should I come down so we can talk?”

Dorothea opened her mouth to agree...and paused.  “...I could always come up,” she offered.  

A grin twitched across his face.  “I’ll meet you at my room, then,” he laughed, waving before disappearing from view.  Hurrying back down to the greenhouses, she turned into the stairwell leading to the second floor of dorms where most of the noble students stayed; at the top of the steps, she saw Claude poke his head out into the hall, beaming at the sight of her.  Smiling despite herself, Dorothea hurried over and ducked past him without even thinking...and as he closed the doors, she stifled a giggle at the sight of his room.  

She had seen cluttered her share of dorms before -- Linhardt’s came immediately to mind -- but she’d never seen anything quite like this, with books taking up half the bed, papers spilling off the desk and onto the floor, and shelves cluttered with a mix of plants, vials, and strange brass instruments she couldn’t identify.  Claude seemed briefly puzzled by her reaction...though, after another moment, he rather sheepishly began gathering up the parchment piled on his chair to give her a place to sit.  “So what can I do for you?” 

“Well, first of all I’d like to know how you got onto the roof,” she replied.  “And off it so fast, for that matter.”

He quirked one eyebrow in apparent surprise.  “What, that?  It’s easy.”  Dropping the papers in a haphazard pile on the desk, he stepped up onto the wide ledge beneath the open window, leaning out into empty space and stretching one arm up...

Claude jumped. 

Dorothea lunged for him, knowing already it was too late -- but he did not fall.  She stumbled into the sill, gaping as he effortlessly pulled himself up out of sight; crawling up onto the ledge, she cautiously poked her head out the window...and saw him lean out over the eave, grinning down at her from his perch.  “That doesn’t look easy to me,” Dorothea pointed out. 

“It just takes some practice,” he laughed.  “Want to come up?  The view’s great,” he added, reaching a hand down to her. 

The sensible, logical, rational part of her brain insisted that she’d rather not break her neck trying to get a nice view of the monastery...even as she extended her own arm, gripping his wrist and feeling him hold fast.  She heard the instructions he gave her -- she was more than certain of that, since she never would have done this on her own -- but whatever he’d said escaped her the moment she stepped off the ledge into empty air, clutching tight to Claude’s wrist even as his pleasant laughter rang in her ears.  In the end he did most of the work pulling her up beside him...but once she caught her breath and her heart stopped feeling like a bird trying to escape its cage, she had to admit that he was right: the campus was lovely from so high up. 

“You doing okay?” he asked, patting her shoulder gently. 

“Better, I think,” she agreed, scooting further back from the edge.  “So, that explains how you got up here -- now why are we here?”

“Well, in my case it’s because it’s a nice day, I don’t have anything going on, and I’m tired of dealing with Lorenz, so I figured I’d come up here and play a bit.  He can yell all he wants from down there, but I’m not stopping unless he gets on this roof to make me.”  As he spoke, he removed the lute strapped to his back, strumming a few notes and idly beginning to tune it again.  “But what brings you up here?”

“Well...actually, I was looking for you,” she admitted, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.  “I haven’t seen much of you since the music tourney.”

“You’ve been busy,” he winked. 

Dorothea rolled her eyes, leaning back against the slightly pitched roof.  “Don’t remind me,  I needed to get away from it for a while.”

“Really?  I thought you’d be happy about all the attention.”

“I was at first,” she sighed, “and it’s been wonderful to have more chances to sing, but…”

She trailed off, watching a few wispy clouds wandering across the pale blue sky.  After a moment, the quiet strum of lute strings fell silent; glancing over at the nobleman, she found him watching her with interest, his head canting slightly to one side as he gestured for her to continue.  “It...doesn’t feel like I thought it would.  Back in the opera, it was always so grand and emotional, singing to an audience -- I loved that feeling, and it’s one of the things I’ve missed most since I left.  I’d hoped the competition would bring it back, and singing with you I found it again, but...I haven’t felt it since.  I’ve been feeling guilty about the way it ended up, and…”

“Hey, I said from the start that you’d mop the floor with me in a competition,” he laughed.  “I don’t mind.  I’m glad I got the chance to perform with you -- that was my prize.”  

“Be serious,” she huffed.  “I’m trying to apologize!”

“And I’m saying you don’t have to -- it’s not like you had a say in Professor Manuela deciding on a winner.”

“But if I don’t get it sorted out, how am I supposed to enjoy singing like I used to?”

“Are you sure guilt is what’s keeping you from it?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him.  “What do you mean?”

“You said that you haven’t felt that thrill since you left the opera.  You didn’t get it again until the finals, right?”  She nodded in agreement.  “And then after the finals it was gone again?”  Again, she nodded in agreement.  “So what was different about the finals, compared to everything before and after?”

“The drama of the grand finale?” she offered. 

“Well, that, too,” he chuckled, “but you weren’t performing alone, either: your melody had a harmony.”

Dorothea scoffed at the notion.  “That seems…”

She trailed off as Claude leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands.  She hadn’t thought of it like that before, but...her fondest memories from the opera were of performances with accompaniment: grand arias carried by a full orchestra, soft odes lilting over quavering strings.  “...possible,” she conceded. 

“So maybe what you were really looking for was a chance to sing with somebody, instead of going it alone or singing over them.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m so selfless,” she giggled.  “Really, I just wanted an audience.”  But even so, that final performance with him, building on one another’s leads and creating something far grander and more beautiful than Dorothea could have done alone...it had brought with it a familiar, delightful frisson. 

“Well, I know I had more fun playing with you than I did taking Lorenz down a peg -- and I really enjoyed that,” Claude laughed, strumming his lute again, “and I, for one, would be honored to reprise the performance -- though, fair warning, I can’t promise a crowd this time around.”

“You know, I am free this afternoon,” she grinned.  He beamed back at her, picking a cheerful tune on his lute strings -- an Adrestian folksong she recognized instantly; as she started in on the first verse and their duet drifted out over the quiet campus, she felt the thrill lift her heart again...and maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore Claude’s smile finally reached his eyes.

[synodicsean]

types of posts during egopocalypses

25% memes

30% theories

35% incredible art/edits

10% collective screaming

[sophiawithnopales]

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

fluff, imagine, what could have been, femenine reader,

Words count: 1901

• ⌜ ✧Heavenly✧ﾟ. °⌟ •

and you were there, somehow letting that big pain go away and thinking about what the hell was going on, a few moments ago you were dying in a titans mouth after you got eated but the only thing you could think about while you were traveling in a white, peaceful and comfortable light was "where am I going?".

At this moment you had already lost your entire squad: beginning with Marco a few years ago inside the walls and ending with Mikasa and Armin trying to protect Eren (who by the way was killed a moment after you passed away); Jean, your biggest and only hope in life, the light of your eyes but also the man you were gonna marry after an entire life of being meeting each other, died a month ago with Connie when they were fighting with their best in the middle of the war, Sasha your best friend, received a shoot and you can remember that painful day so good as if it was a recent memory, Mikasa and Armin were tragically shot more than 7 times, Historia died in the middle of her birth and you can still remember how caotic everything got after be losing our queen, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie even if that was hard to believe to everybody else died trying to avoid Levi's and Hange's deaths, Erwin was crushed by a rock, Ymir, Marco and Hange died in a titans stomach and Levi.... he fought until he could and then passed away... everything so tragic and fast... so dark but never enough for this cruel life.

Mikasa and Armin, sadly but true, arrived a moments before to their destiny.

"Who's over there?" A familiar voice sounded on Mikasa and Armin's ears

"Calm down Levi"

"L-levi? E-Erwin?"

"Huh? Armin...? OH MY GOD ARMIN IS HERE.... AND HE IS WITH MIKASA..." Annie shouted and for the first time in a long long long time she smiled when she saw the short blonde boy

"What the heck is this? Where we are Armin?" Mikasa took Armin's hand and hugged his shoulder, she looked shocked and scared, something that Armin never thought he would be able to see.

"Is okay Ackerman, you are safe... you just don't need to fight no more" Erwin said in a tone that sounded so warm and after that he got closer to them and gave them a big welcome hug that just felt so good, so comfortable, so much as a sense of family, like a father who hugs his kids in a rainy and dark night and there, Mikasa understood everything, indeed... they were safe.

"Come on guys, come and have some fun with us, we were just playing here in the beach..." Hange said so happy and when Erwin ended the hug, Armin tried to focus his view in the others and scratched his eyes trying to convince him that it was not a beautiful dream

"What's up boy? You think we are not real, aren't you?" Ymir asked in a funny tone

"Yeeeeessss, please tell me that I'm not dreaming one of the happiest dreams in my life..."

"Indeed Armin, welcome to the heaven" Sasha said in a weird voice making a funny hand gesture with Connie when she arrived to the word "heaven".

"How have you been? What happened down there? What happened with Eren? Do you know what happened with y/n? We won? Our deaths really worth it?"

"Hey Jean.... relax... give them a minute to try to understand what is going on"

"I'm sorry Marco but they were the last ones who actually saw her and I wanna know how's my girl..."

"Isn't that enough with be trying to protect her as much as you can when you have permission to go down?"

"S-shut up Rein-"

"We lost the war Jean" Mikasa said in a sad tone giving the group her back looking at the edge of the "heaven" and continued "W-we....we died trying to protect Eren but when we lost him because we got distracted somebody shot us several times until we passed away"

Armin exhaled heavily and sitted in the sand.

"The last thing we knew about y/n was that she was lidering Jean's squad and she got trapped by a titans hand.... we don't know exactly if she survived but I heard when one of her soldiers said that she got an arm and a leg broken and we exactly heard when the titan crushed her until her ribs got broken too so..." Mikasa turned around and began to walk to Jean's place "I-I'm sorry Jean" She didn't said anything else and just gave him a big hug while she started crying, Jean was nothing else than pain and tears because he wasn't able to imagine the girl he loved the most be suffering that bad...

On the middle of that sad moment Jean noticed a familiar smell, he didn't knew if he was getting insane or something but he could swear that it was his lovers perfume or that familiar smell she used to had always and made him go crazy each time they were together...

"Thank you for being protecting her all this time guys."

After being listening to the last voice of a soldier that you couldn't recognize begging you to still fighting inside the titans mouth you stopped hearing everything and now there was only one hugging silence mixed with a warm weather and a pretty bright light that was letting you blind but at the same time was throwing away all the pain and the concern,,,, you were crying thinking about how miserable and sad your life was but tons of memories ran away in your mind trying to convince you to just concentrate on the happy moments like when you met Jean for the first time and even if his name was pronounced as "Jan" you loved to annoyed him and call him instead "Jin" or when you were 17 and tried to organize a small night party inside the walls to try to get relaxed and forget about all the problems outside and as the guys were dancing and laughing and talking you were just dancing a slow and pretty song under the moon and stars shine with Jean when he asked you to be his girl and you proudly said yes; the moments you spent with Mikasa, Sasha, Historia and Ymir doing your stuff, the day you saw Armin's face watching the sea for the first time or the days you loved to be with Sasha, Connie and Jean making fun of yourselves and doing crazy shits, the day before Jean's death when in front of the sea he tried his hardest to make you feel happy and he proposed you to marry him with his mother's ring after the war gets finished without be knowing that that night would be the last one you would be spending together, the last one you would be feeling him inside you , filling you up at the only way he knew.... but when you heard that first sound of a wave crushing with a rock and more water and a couple of laughs and happy shouts like "Sash... look behind" "Agggggh Ymir stop carrying me!!" "Erwiiiiiin, Liiiiiivai... look at the stars" a weird sensation ran over your body and you asked again

"Where am I?"

"Who's coming there Marco? What was that sound?" Jean said while he was looking at Marco and grabbing the ball in his hands

"JEAN LOOK.... WHO'S HERE??" Marco said running to your position helping you to stand up and trying to help you understand what was going on.

Just like 5 minutes after Eren appeared by your side but he didn't looked hurted or in pain anymore, he didn't looked tired and he was with that young image you could remember perfectly of him, not a long long hair and a weird moustache, just that long enough hair tied in a messy bun and a relaxed face, he was layed in the... sand?? and then "EREH" Mikasa run with Armin to try to help him

"Hey smol y/n... you missed me?"

"M-Marco?? Holy shit... I- I just-"

"Quiet girl, I know this can be a little bit messy the first moments but look who's here.... we are all together after so many years honey"

Jean was standing in the same place he was with the ball in his hands, crying in silence.... happy because you were here but sad because you passed through hard things to arrive there

"Where am I? What are you doing here? A-am I dead?"

"I know it can be hard smol girl but yes... we are all dead-" Marco was interrupted

"You are in the heaven" and then Sasha and Connie made the same gestures they made with Mikasa and Armin

"Where's Jean?" you took Marco's hand to stand up and shaked thesand that was on the pretty white dress you were wearing

"Ow yes... he is over there" that was definitel an answer you were not expecting to receive and when Marco pointed at the specific direction and Connie move aside you saw him as the same way you remembered... pretty light brown eyes, messy light brown mullet, perfect nose, kissable lips, greek god body and beautiful voice

"Jean...? oh mY LORD JEAN" and you started crying immediately while you where trying to run to his place

"y-y/n" he started crying too and left the ball fall in the sand, he opened his arms and waited until you arrived to give you the best hug you could ever ask "Y-you are here, holy shit you are here and you are fine" he couldn't believe that and while he was speaking he was grabbing your head with his both hands "You are finally here babe"

"Yes my love, I'm here finally"

And he gave you another big hug "You made a good work, I'm your fan number one princess... you were just so brave and you face all that by your own..."

"What are you talking about Jin?"

"Mikasa and Armin told us everything you made down there alone, I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you but I never asked to be killed by somebody that I did even kne-"

You were crying yet and you grabbed his head with your hands looking at his face just to kiss him and holy shit, you really needed to kiss him after one month and 5 days of being losing him

"I missed you y/n, I missed you so much" he put his forehead with yours and grab both sides of your head with his hands

"I missed you too Jeanbo"

"Please promise me this time that we won't leave each other alone again..."

"I just wanna stay here in this heavenly place with you till the end of times"

And then all of your group walked with the rest... all of them were there... Nanaba, Mike, Petra, Hannes, Moblit, Thomas, Hitch, Lynnes... all of them were there safe and happy and you refused to spent the night and maybe the rest of your existance in that heavenly world that looked as a beautiful and magestical floating island in the middle of the hope and peace.

Omg, I'm sorry for the bad spelling but I'm not a native English speaker and I really really tried to make my best writing in this language.

Also is the first time I write a history like this with them and in here, I'm kinda knew and I really don't know how to make this good.