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potteresque-ire · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I posted an ask regarding your view point on GGDD's safety by people shipping them openly by bus designs, digital hoardings in their country and various other ways. I am not sure if you have already replied because I can't seem to find it. If not, please notify in case you would be interested in posting, there is no pressure or complaints if the answer is not affirmative. Also, I am hoping to read your piece on current issue DD is facing in relation to Nike. I am sure a lot of people enjoy your straight, detailed and analytical thought process and information presentation. A lot of people especially ifans needs to understand the perspective and position an actor or any national level influencer/celebrity is in when they are a citizen of totalitarian regime.

I would love to read, if you decide to write.

Thank you for your blog. It is highly appreciated and welcomed.

Hello Anon! I sincerely apologise ~ my ask box has been very full, and I answer based on time availability (which isn’t much) and “urgency” of the matter (for example, the recent post on Dangai/WoH skipped the line because it’s current). My whim too, occasionally and admittedly; sometimes I’d like to take a breather and talk about something a little more fannish and fun (like window cleaning robots!) Above all, I prefer giving delayed but responsible, or even no answers over irresponsible ones, given some of the subject matter I touch upon. I’ll ... probably have to write up an ask box policy at some point.

Now, my thoughts about Dd’s current situation ... or maybe, my thoughts about the things around it ...

I should explain where my highly disorganised thoughts this time come from first. I’m a Hong Konger by birth, and I grew up at a time when it was still conventional for Hong Kongers to refer themselves as Chinese, following the tradition of referring to the (believed) origin of one’s paternal family as our own origin. I’ve never, however, sworn allegiance to the Chinese government; the two citizenships I’ve ever held are 1) United Kingdom (Hong Kong was still a British crown colony when I was there), and 2) United States.

The distinction between China, the country, and Chinese government, as the country’s rulership, has therefore always been clear to me. You can love, feel a bond with the country, its people and culture and its 5,000 year old history, without having feeling anything with its 71 years-young government with foreign (soviet) roots. To quote Hamilton: Oceans rise, empires fall, and just the central plains of China alone went through a total of 13 recorded dynasties, during which its border waxed and waned, often splitting what is now Chinese territory into multiple countries under different rulership that sometimes split along ethnic lines—China, in that sense, isn’t even historically a country as we define one today; it’s a piece of land in East Asia where different countries have taken over, risen and fallen. And the major ethnic group, Han, which also includes the vast majority of the current political elite, wasn’t always in control. The Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) was famously built by Mongolians; the Qing dynasty (1636–1912), Manchurians. Beijing, the current capital of China, began its illustrious history as The Capital City for the non-Han based, north-of-central-plain dynasties of Liao and Jin. Liao people were believed to be either Mongolic or Tungusic. Jin people were Tungusic, and would eventually become Manchurians. Xinjiang (新疆), meanwhile, was only under the influence of the ancient Chinese empires sporadically, and its formal conquest / incorporation by a Chinese dynasty didn’t happen until ~ 1760, and by the (Manchurian) Qing dynasty. Its late incorporation is also reflected in its name that means, literally, “New Territory”.

What does this all mean? It means: 1) Loving China =/= loving the Chinese Communist Party; 2) Chinese culture =/= Han culture; especially the Han culture infused with “Core Socialist Values” as defined by the Chinese Communist Party; 3) X dynasty’s territory (where X = one of the ancient Chinese dynasties) =/= What has to be People Republic of China’s territory.

And by writing down these three =/=, which I’d argue are simply conclusions from historical facts and logic, I’ve committed an act of subversion in the eyes of the current Chinese government. Remove the “/” in “=/=“, and you’ve got three of the most important talking points of Chinese propaganda.

The sacred, un-violatable rules the Chinese government tells its people.

Why do I mention them? Because the scrutiny, the attack on Dd read familiar to me, and is probably familiar too to all those who’ve kept even a brief eye on Hong Kong and Taiwanese entertainers who work in China. When a topic that violates one of these propaganda points makes news (for example, the HK protest, Hong Kong/Taiwan Independence), entertainers from Hong Kong / Taiwan—anyone who’ve achieved name recognition—are often placed under immediate scrutiny by Chinese netizens to see whether and when they’ll confirm their loyalty towards the Chinese government. The argument is that only those who display absolute loyalty to the Chinese government deserves to earn China’s money, and the main motivation behind this scrutiny, in this case, is mistrust: Hong Kong, after all, is crawling with British loyalists and rioters according to Chinese propaganda, with separatists who’re conspiring with foreign governments to overthrow the Chinese government; the democratic island nation of Taiwan, meanwhile, is supposedly a rogue child who has escaped its mother (China) ’s arms for the past 70+ years—the child who, by the way, shall be brought to their knees (along with into their mother’s arms) by military intervention. Both places, in other words, are serial violators of =/= 1) and 3), and not to be trusted. If their entertainers fail to affirm their loyalty towards the Chinese government, or if the timing of their patriotic display is perceived as off, vicious accusations—similar to those Dd has endured—will fly, and calls for boycott begin.

Here’s a related observation, while I’m at it ... no one in c-ent is really allowed to keep their political views quiet, even if they’re not particularly well-known. No one can say, politics isn’t for me, it’s too ugly/too complicated/doesn’t fit my image and shove it under the proverbial carpet. Under an authoritarian government, control is exerted via politics, via propaganda that seeps into day-to-day language. It’s an oil slick that taints and swims in even the smallest crevice of life—there’s no where to hide.

And Dd is far more famous than almost all of these HK and Taiwan based entertainers. 表態 — a public announcement of his stance — is the only option left for him when he becomes the centre of a sensitive political issue such as this one. And there’s really only one stance he can take.

In that sense, what happened to Dd isn’t something I’m too worried about—this kind of attack under the guise of a “loyalty check” isn’t new; and the motivation behind the scrutiny of Dd is the safer to-take-down-his-career rather than political mistrust. I believe this storm shall pass soon, as long as his team doesn’t make an unexpected, big mistake. His non-fan fellow country people will probably view him with a more positive light as well: he walked the walk and did what he believed is patriotic — breaking a contract like this is no lip service when in China, performative patriotism is often lip service — reportedly even among the top Chinese Communist Party officials.

If I must find more defence for his stance ... please forgive me, Anon, but I don’t have much more to say than what I said last night, what I said before about China’s access to information—

—because, admittedly, following, talking about this incident is difficult for the Hong Konger in me, even if I’ve expected this kind of incidents from the moment I joined this fandom, even if I’ve expected, as I’ve learned from RL experience, that most people I adore in China will at some point support causes that I deeply disagree with. The online patriotic rally by c-motors and c-turtles under the associated Weibo tag, while impressive and good for Dd, is nonetheless heartbreaking/frightening for me to watch. Why? Because I know this can easily turn into a call to persecute all Hong Kongers involved in the democracy movements sometime in the future. Because I know the rally will probably be as impressive if this has been a call to persecute all Hong Kongers involved in the democracy movements. Frankly, I stopped thinking about Nike as I scrolled through the posts — I was thinking about the now impossibly wide gulf that separates most Chinese and a Hong Konger like myself; I was thinking about why a Gg / Dd performance can trend on Twitter in 10+ countries all over the world but makes almost no noise in Hong Kong or Taiwan, places that should’ve most easily fallen in love with Gg / Dd with their closeness in language and customs.

As it turns out, the closeness has only driven HK and Taiwan away; the closeness only brings them more insight of the beast—the government that looms over, cast a long shadow over everything that lives under it, including Gg and Dd.

I was reminded of the fact that many young Hong Kongers probably see me as a traitor just for being a turtle — young Hong Kongers who are n>1 generation immigrants from China, who never spend years reconciling the conflicting viewpoints, the even more conflicting emotions when it comes to this ... almost irreconcilable difference now in political beliefs north and south of the China-HK border. Unlike the older generations who often have immigrants/refugees from China for immediate, un-severable family, who often don’t have the option to walk away from the conflicts, to simply point to the other side and call it evil.

And here are my even-more-conflicting emotions:

While, over the years, I’ve learned to harbour no ill feelings to the vast majority of supporters of pro-CCP causes—I reserve blame for those who conceal the truth, who’re involved in its policy making, or people who live outside the Firewall and should know better (such as every HK entertainer who’ve expressed support)—I’ve also learned, over the same years, to be fully, painfully aware that every endorsement is still an endorsement for the regime to carry on its ways, and the damage is real, is significant even if the endorsers may not know about the true nature of their endorsements.

A simple thought experiment: the sheer size of China’s population means it can easily control the narrative on English-speaking social media. The Chinese government already has a history of mobilising its people to scale the Great Firewall and spread its propaganda on, for example, Twitter. It has also mobilised fan circles for propaganda purpose. Again, as a thought experiment *only* (ie, SJD!), imagine the Chinese government mobilising Dd’s Weibo supertopic fans to spread misinformation about Xinjiang.

Dd’s supertopic has 5+ million members—all savvy social media users and many skilled in the art of comment control (a collective effort, performed by fans to bury critiques/dissent on message boards); the total number of Uyghurs in Xinjiang is ~12 million, but their communications are heavily scrutinised and they can’t really talk. Just for the sake of argument, we’ll add the ~ 70% pro-democracy HK population to Uyghur’s side: that’s another 5 million, but most of them aren’t good at raging a battle on social media.

Which side will control the narrative in the end?

And so: I understand why Dd’s statement is what it is. I don’t fault him for making it. Still, I can’t in good conscience say to anyone, myself included, that the statement is a personal opinion and doesn’t matter. It matters a lot. His announcement is another stab to the Uyghurs, and the knife is sharp because of Dd’s social influence.

(Today, I saw Dd’s name for the first time in a Hong Kong pro-democracy online news site.)

The statement carried this sentence:

國家尊嚴不容侵犯，堅決維護祖國利益 The dignity of the country is not to be violated; the interest of our motherland is to be resolutely defended. Firstly: it’s character-for-character propaganda language. Secondly: even if we do not consider the labor camps, this is the condition in Xinjiang’s city of Urumqi. Where’s the dignity of the people who’re living there and who’s preventing that from being violated? The interest of the motherland—what kind of motherland answers an allegation of human rights violation with “interest” (利=profit, advantage; 益=benefit)? What kind of motherland has “protects its interest” being synonymous with surveillance and abuse of its own people?

I have a motherland, but it’s not the one in this narrative.

The issues of Xinjiang and the Uyghurs have also become even closer to Hong Kongers since 2019, when the fates of Hong Kongers and the Uyghurs became intricately tied—as dual examples of Chinese government’s human rights violations and indeed, these two populations who previously had very little in common have shown solidarity with each other against all odds. Their connection being this one simple, awful fact: both having what they value most stripped away by the same government—the traditions, religion and culture for the Uyghurs, the promised freedoms and hopes for democracy for Hong Kongers. As an online meme goes: “Today’s Xinjiang; Tomorrow’s Hong Kong” — expressing the fear that Hong Kongers may soon be subjected to the same surveillance as the Uyghurs today, for the same reason of having put up a fight against who they saw as their oppressors (this article offers an objective summary of what led to the 2009 clash between the Uyghurs and the Chinese government, which precipitated the former’s treatment as will-be terrorists today)(Note the role the US played in this.).

As such, I cannot look away from Xinjiang. As such, I cannot look at our two beautiful stars, Gg and Dd, without also seeing the flag with its blood red looming behind with its own five stars—the biggest of them symbolising the Chinese Communist Party.

How do I reconcile all the feelings? As I said, it’s a constant work-in-progress, possibly a lifelong one. Re: Gg and Dd, that’s what I tell myself at the moment: that my being an i-turtle shall not sway my view or silence me on any sociopolitical issues, that my being a fan of anything, anyone shall not mean any other human life is suddenly worth less to me, or its suffering, something I shall suddenly look away from. The moment this becomes true—that I find myself depreciating human lives, or ignoring the pain of others for the sake of my fannish pursuits—that’s when I must leave my fan identity until I find my discipline (I do understand the lure of a happy fandom bubble, and I’m far from immune to it). I’m a person before I’m a fan.

These are the rules of my world.

我的世界不退讓。

#pie answers #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx

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artbyrivaille · 4 years ago

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Hair ☕

Okay, so at the outset, I would like to emphasize that English is not my mother tongue and I am still learning. But writing is my hobby and I decided that I will try my skills here too, in English, I invite you to write requests, I hope you will like it!

3,5k words!

=================================

She was strong. She was a good soldier, commander, companion.

But she was also a beautiful woman with an amazing figure who was envied by many. Despite being quite short, because she was only five feet three, she had long slender legs. Overall, she was considered a beautiful woman. However, she had short hair.

Her hairstyle was practically identical to Levi's, but no one accused her of trying to look like him, as she was cutting her hair that way long before Ackerman joined the survey corps.

Oh, she and Levi. It was quite a sneaky topic, let alone the rumors around the body. They were often seen in each other's company, people interpreted it differently.

Some said it was just a friendship and a bond they established when Ackermann was part of her branch at the beginning of his career. And the others insinuated the supposed romance of the two. Well the versions were really different, but the truth was that y/n and good captain Levi were just two great friends. The woman was one of the few people who knew the man's past, and shared with him some facts about her. Because they both came from the Underground, however, and managed to get out of there on their own, and not with the help of scouts, as was the case with Levi.

At first they were not very sympathetic, quite the opposite. They had very similar characters, which theoretically should indicate that they will get along well, but that was only theoretically. In practice, they got on their nerves terribly.

But despite this aversion to a man, it was precisely this that helped him the most after the death of Farlan and Izabel. She provided him with comfort, help and warmth. Something no one else could give him. It was thanks to her that he recovered so quickly, and he was in the place where he was at the moment.

At some point their relationship began to take a less formal path. More and more often they stayed at each other's offices, helped each other with Erwin's sentences, that is, documentation. They drank tea together, despite the fact that the brunette was a coffee advocate, she made an exception for Levi and almost completely gave it up. They had similar problems, especially those with sleep, may both of them suffer from insomnia, so when the entire corps was asleep, they sat in the two of them over documents, or simply spent their free time together.

Y/n did not even know the exact moment when she began to care in this other, more intimate way on the short captain. It came overnight. Of course, she was behaving the same as before, after all, she was not some horny teen, but a mature woman, but at the moment when she was going to the black-haired's office, or she just knew that he would see him, her body was flooded with heat. And maybe she wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that she had short hair.

She loved the short haircut, the long hair simply irritated her and disturbed the soldier's everyday life, but she was afraid that they might be an obstacle to any closer relationship with Ackerman.

***

She sat quietly in her office filling out paperwork for Erwin. She nervously tweaked her hair, which was longer than usual, because every time she tried to cut it, something was getting in the way and that was how it was already quite long.

The silence in the office was broken by the sudden opening of the door through which entered a black-haired man with pliers and a towel in his hand. He closed the door with a bang and set the items on the coffee table, then looked at the woman poring over reports and other documents.

"You have long hair." He said suddenly and walked closer to her chair, and when he was next to him, he entangled his hand in her dark strands. She breathed a breath and leaned against the back of the armchair, massaging her temples at the same time giving herself to the caress.

"I didn't have time to cut them off because of the last expedition, and with all the crap Erwin did, I have more work to do than ever. And Hanji keeps following me all the time and asks if I managed to convince Bushbread to do experiments on titans." She explained in frustration then exhaled her mouth with a whistle.

"Tch, fucking shitty glasses. Come on, rest a little, cut off your hair, and you will give me a haircut." He replied then pulled the woman's chair back and, grabbing her hand, led her to the bathroom. She was so tired of it all that she didn't care, and the presence of a cobalt-eyed woman was calming, so she didn't resist. "Get your hair wet." He gave the order, which she followed by putting her head in the shower and then she wet her hair with a stream of water. Ackermann handed her a towel, which she grabbed and dried her hair.

Let the two go back to the brunette's office, meanwhile she took off her jacket and threw it on the couch, which Ackermann only huffed, but said nothing. She sat down without a word on the low stool that the man had prepared at that time. He ran a hand through her hair a few times and began carefully trimming it.

"Can I ask you a question?" She finally gave up y/n, unable to withstand the silence in the room

"You ask them anyway, so why do you ask me for permission." The bored man replied by which l/n raised the corner of her mouth in a small smile.

"What do you think about women with short hair?" She asked, and black hair stopped breathing for a moment. What the hell was that about? Is this some kind of provocation?

"What am I supposed to think. They are no less feminine because they do not have long hair, their appearance does not define a person." He replied quite neutral, not realizing that he had just kindled a little ray of hope in his friend's heart. "And why do you ask?"

"Because I care about someone, and all in all, I wanted to know your opinion." Ah yes. His heart leapt into his throat, and his stomach seemed to have a 3D maneuvering device. Someone did she like? But who the hell. After all, the only men with whom she spent time was himself, Erwin, sometimes he encountered Moblit in the company of Hanji and Mike. Who could steal her heart enough to make her care about her hairstyle? Probably Erwin. That fucking perfect general.

Maybe Levi didn't have complexes as such, but he was always a little jealous of Smith. He had a perfect body, he was tall, intelligent, had a high position in the military, and he came from a non-poor family. He was nothing compared to the blonde, he had nothing to offer. And he would like so much to have her with him.

"I'm done." He muttered softly brushing single hairs from the woman's clothes. She got up from the stool and unintentionally combed her dark hair. She looked beautiful, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Your turn." She said and took the pliers from his hand. This time it was he who sat on the stool. He involuntarily smiled under his breath and closed his eyes at the woman's gentle touch. He was literally like a docile kitten. Why couldn't she be his?

***

He had been avoiding her like plague for about two weeks. He was irritated by the lack of a black-haired woman around him, but he knew that if it was like before, he would take the blow even worse.

A blow that would never come.

Y/n really didn't know what she could do wrong. After all, everything was fine, and then overnight Ackerman began to avoid her. Maybe he just got bored?

At first she explained his ignorance with overwork, in the end everyone in the command had their heads off. But when one day in a row she saw him sitting quietly with Petra, she knew it was not it. By the way, seeing a redhead in his company, something broke in her. What did this teenager have that she did not have? Did their relationship really mean nothing to him? So many questions, so few answers.

And this way almost every evening she landed in Erwin's office with Hanji with a bottle of whiskey or vodka, depending on what Smith had in the bar. Erwin and Hange really couldn't comprehend the change in brunet's behavior, and the sight of a really hurt l/n was so pathetic as to be nasty.

And so the next evening the three gathered in Smith's office where they once again debated about the captain's behavior.

"I do not feel it completely, so change the attitude towards people overnight.

I know that our curly pedantic has its own rules, but without exaggeration." Hanji announced, finishing the rest of the whiskey from her glass.

"Maybe something made him do it?" Smith replied, then grabbed his chin.

"Tch, and this thing is called Petra Ral, really fascinating." Black-haired girl summed up pouring herself and Zoe whiskey.

Their conversations were so loud that they interested Ackerman who was just about to make himself a cup of tea. But when he heard three familiar voices, he stood at the door of Smith's office, listening to what was being said.

"Don't take it for granted." Erwin said and frowned by the high concentration of alcohol in his glass.

"So what could be the reason Levi is ignoring me then? Just like logic Erwin, there are two options, or he has something to me and he distorts what is unfortunately but impossible because he always treated me only as a friend. Or he just shoots with Petra, and that's what I believe more. "Did they talk about him? What romance with Petra? And y/n cared for him the way he wanted it, but he's just an idiot and he broke it? He held his breath for a moment and tried to enter the room, but stopped himself and continued to stand still.

"Like it or not, I have to agree with the above. Although I keep my fingers crossed for the first version." Squeaked at the end of the woman, which caused a loud sigh of disapproval from y/n.

"Shut up Hanji, I don't want to hope again for something that will never happen." She growled angry and hurt. She really cared about him. Not on any Erwin, Moblit or Mike, but on him. On a goddamn Underground thief with a hard character and misophobic aspirations. Damn it, don't let this be a dream.

He walked away from the door and headed for his office. He has even forgotten why he left it at all. He sat down at the desk and stared blankly at the sky until the very morning, trying to put everything in his head. He must try to fix what he broke.

***

Like a day like every other day. There was no expedition, no surprises, just an ordinary day in the recon. Well, maybe almost. Because Ackerman had been nervous and a little stressed since the morning. And it wasn't just because he wanted to talk to y/n seriously, but largely because he couldn't find her anywhere. As to spite that day, she sank underground, his only salvation could be Erwin. Which office was on his way to. The evening and dinner time was approaching, so he wanted to come to him before her, to look for the presence of a woman at the last meal, if necessary.

He entered the office without knocking, Smith merely looked up from the mountain of documents he had probably been studying since this morning, then turned him back to the sheets of paper.

"What you want Levi?" He asked breaking the silence prevailing in the room. He was pretty sure why this one had come to him, but preferred not to reveal all the cards at once.

"Where is y/n"? Erwin sighed and then put down his quill and straightened up in his chair. He was afraid of Levi's reaction, but what could he do if the milk had already spilled?

"She went on a mission. She should be back in two or three days at the most." He replied with a straight face in the middle being a bit irritated by the reaction of the black-haired man.

"What mission? And why the hell didn't I know anything about this." Ackerman asked, very angry with the news once again.

"Maybe because you've been avoiding her for a long time? Maybe because it's a secret mission, I'm not obligated to tell you everything, Levi. I respect you and treat you as a friend, so I will give you some friendly advice. Think about what you really want and don't screw it up. I don't think I need to tell you what I'll do to you if you hurt her, not to mention Hanji." A faint smile affected his lips at the end of his speech.

"It's none of your business anymore. Thank you for the information." He replied coolly and, not worried about the threat of his friend, left his office.

So he was supposed to wait? He hated waiting. Uncertainty burst him from the inside, these few days will probably be a real nightmare for him.

***

It was well past nine o'clock, so most of the Corps' soldiers were resting in their quarters. Only a few officers were still in the courtyard. And Levi was watching them from his office.

Week. She has been gone since fucking week.

And he was consumed not only by uncertainty, but also by fear. Because they didn't know anything, not even Erwin, who entrusted the woman with this mission. Through it all, the captain was irritated and angry from day to night. Everyone wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Even Petra must have found out about his bad mood when some two days after y/n's departure, she felt bad for the fact that she smiled at him instead of focusing on cleaning. The last time he was afraid was when he first left for exeption.

Suddenly, a horse ran into the courtyard, on the back of which was a scout, but he was clearly unconscious, barely clinging to his mount. At first, Ackerman did not move from his place, but when he heard the screams about the return of squad leader l/n and summoning the medics, he sprinted out of the office.

When he was already leaving, he saw only a brunette, which two cadets were carrying on a stretcher to the infirmary. There was blood everywhere, and the worst case scenario flashed through his mind. She might have died.

He knew that they would not let him into the infirmary anyway, and the cadets didn't know anything, the only option was once again Erwin. What a mission it was to make her come back like this.

He hurried to Smith's office and threw open the door. He did not care about the surprised face of Hanji, who was sitting on the blonde's couch, but he walked over to the man and grabbed him tightly by the collar of a white shirt.

"What was that mission? And why did you send her over there alone, don't you care that she's just fighting for her life?" He was screaming at the top of his throat, he didn't care what everyone thought of him right now, he didn't care about the consequences, he only cared that he could lose her before he actually possessed her.

"In Stohess there is a man who leads the gang. It interfered with various shipments and the like. They are also active in the Underground. The task was to diversify into their ranks, apparently she did not quite succeed." He replied with stoic calm which made the black-haired man even more angry.

"Have you been really fucked up? Such a mission is not a job for one person, it is for the rest. Such matters should be handled by the MP's, not us!" He shouted and pushed the blonde back so that he almost fell from his chair.

"Only that they interfered mainly with transports to our corps. Mostly those not entirely legal. You know very well that a large amount of drugs and medical equipment we have is not entirely legal, but it is needed. I wanted to send the two of you on this mission, because both of you know the Underground, but she did not agree to you taking part in this mission. Probably because you were not getting along at that point." The man explained succinctly, and Ackerman said nothing. It was his fault, his goddamn fault. If only he wasn't such an asshole, nothing bad would have happened.

Until now, a silent Hanji came up to the shorter man and put her hand on his shoulder, the latter turned towards her, close to crying. Holy shit what she did with him.

"You'll finish later, for now, go to her." She ordered, and he nodded and without a word headed for the infirmary.

***

"When will she wake up?" He asked one of the medics, who was just finishing treating single wounds on the body of an unconscious woman.

"She should wake up in the morning. But probably not for long, he has to rest a lot now. She lost a lot of blood, it is surprising that she was even going here alive." She replied and got up from the small stool, putting the remnants of bandages and other medicaments on a silver tray. "But take it easy, she will get out of this, squad leader l/n is a damn tough woman, not just character. She will lick it." She added after a moment with a slight smile on her face trying to cheer the man up.

"I know she's strong." He replied quietly, his head bowed and his hands folded.

"So just be patient. I think she survived because she had someone to return to." She laughed softly and just left the room, leaving the slightly confused captain with the unconscious woman.

He slowly walked over to her bed and sat down next to it on the wooden chair. He grabbed her chilled hand and pressed it to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. He had to wait.

And so the hours went by, and Levi spent them thinking about his feelings for the woman and simply gazing at her adoringly.

She was so beautiful, he loved everything about her. From a smile that could not be seen too often, ending with short hair. He was lazily combing them almost all the time, not being surprised how pleasant they are. He did not even notice that it was starting to dawn, and the soldiers of the corps were slowly waking up to start another day of service. He also did not notice that Erwin accompanied by Hanji arrived in the room in the meantime, but when they saw the man sitting next to the y/n, they only smiled at each other and left, leaving them alone, of course they gave each other high five for fruitful cooperation.

"Wake up now, because these feelings will blow me up soon." The words were coming out of his mouth involuntarily. His eyes were closed, he tried to focus, to be patient. "I overheard your, Hanji and Erwin conversation about me. I really was an idiot. I shouldn't be away from you, that's why you're here at all. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be lying here, I wouldn't have allowed it. I have plans to blame Erwin for letting you go on this mission alone. But you don't know how much I was bursting from the inside by the thought that you care about someone, and that someone is not me. I was so fucking jealous. Ugh, feelings are a pain in the ass. You don't even know what you're doing with me. I just love you, and I love everything about you." There was a silence in the room, and the man breathed a sigh of relief, finally blurted out into the crowd of thoughts.

"Even my short hair?" Silence, a hoarse voice broke the silence in the room. The man immediately opened his eyes and straightened in his chair, a smile spread across his face at the sight of the woman's open eyes.

"Even short hair." He replied and once again ran his hand through it, and placed the other on her cheek.

"I heard everything, you idiot. Love you too." She said and smiled broadly as he reciprocated.

"I love you too." He replied and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

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aotxfan · 4 years ago

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Stranger in Familiar Skin (Floch)

Summary: Female unnamed character realizes that the man she once loved, Floch, is gone to her forever.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and blood.

Her heart was stuttering in her chest as she stared down at the barrel of the gun. She could feel her pulse roaring in her ears as her hands shook in front of her. It seemed like time slowed down as the man before her pointed it directly at her head.

“Floch?”

His name left her lips in a quiet whisper. Desperately, she prayed that she was wrong. Surely this cold hearted man before her wasn’t the same boy she had grown up with.

She hoped he would react with confusion, hoped his name out of her mouth would snap him out of whatever trance he had fallen into, but it didn’t work. At her voice, the finger on the side of the gun simply moved to the trigger. He didn’t press down yet, but the threat was there all the same.

“I told you not to resist,” the man, Floch, responded. He sounded bored as he said it, voice lacking any emotion, and he nodded at the empty cell behind her.

Her eyes were trained directly at the barrel pointing at her forehead. Never in a million years had she imagined they’d be in this situation. Nothing about any of this made sense.

The man before her was someone she knew yet didn’t recognize. A loved one and a stranger all at once.

She and Floch had grown up together as kids and enlisted at the same time in the military. He was her childhood friend and later lover. She had once thought he was her other half, a piece of her soul.

They had known each other since they could toddle and had trusted each other more than they trusted themselves. She had thought she knew him like the back of her hand. He had never given her any indication of being someone dangerous.

“Please,” she forced herself to speak out, “Put it down.”

Her hands were shaking like leafs and her eyes were burning with unshed tears. However, it wasn’t fear that made her freeze. It was heartbreak.

She could feel her heart shattering inside her chest. All around her, her world was spiraling. She felt light headed and sick. It was a miracle she hadn’t passed out yet.

He called her name in a monotone voice. It sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth. She had heard him say it hundreds of times. He had shrieked it in laughter as a child, whispered it reverently as an teen, and used it as a form of a prayer as an adult. Now, however, it sounded hollow and meaningless. There was no affection behind the enunciation of each syllable nor any indication that this encounter pained him as much as her.

“I won’t ask again. Get back in your cell,” he nudged his head towards the empty prison behind her.

She had managed to escape somehow, yet she couldn’t exactly remember how. Ever since he had arrived at the restaurant where the Marley POWs worked, her mind had blanked. After Floch and the other Yeagerists had entered pointing their weapons, she had stopped processing things. So startled by her former lover pointing a gun at her, she hadn’t realized that she been imprisoned nor could she remember how she had gotten out.

“Floch,” she tried again. Her voice sounded like a whimper, but it had no effect on him. Where once his name from her lips would have sent him running to her, he now seemed like an unmovable statue.

Hange had warned her, she recalled. They had told her that Floch had escaped from his cell and joined the Yeagerists. She hadn’t wanted to believe it then, her mind couldn’t have made sense of it, but it was evident now that they had been telling the truth.

The Floch before her was not the one she remembered. Gone was the man she loved. Left in his wake was a terrorist who had killed and would kill again. His hands were stained red, yet his sins seemed not to weigh heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were cold and dark like the bitter sea that churned past the walls, and his hand on the gun was steady despite the fact that he was pointing it at the girl he had once swore to love forever.

“What happened to you?” She exhaled the question out and her first tear rolled down her cheek.

“Happened to me?” He cocked his head to the side and his lips rose in a mocking sneer, “Have you forgotten everything already?”

He advanced on her, and she took a step back. Her heart was beating against her chest like a hummingbird stuck in a cage. Desperately, she wanted some sign that her Floch was still in there. He had to be, she refused to believe that the man she had once loved was gone forever.

“Did you forget how I almost died? How a demon led me to a suicide charge where I was the lone survivor? How the one person in this world that could save humanity was killed in favor of some nobody little boy just because he had friends that staged a mutiny? Did you forget about the way the military you served betrayed humanity’s hope of winning against the Titans? The one who could beat Marley and restore the Eldian Empire to glory? Have you forgotten how I was arrested for telling the public what they had a right to know? Treated as a criminal when all I have ever wanted was to protect my people and serve my nation?”

Another step forward from him. Two more steps back from her.

“I know that-”

She cut herself off knowing not how to continue. She knew everything that had happened. Of course she did.

She had wept at the Battle of Shinganshina when she had imagined him dead, had held him as he woke up from nightmares screaming and covering his head from imaginary rocks, had comforted him as he seethed about Marley, and had visited him every day after Hange had ordered his arrest. She had been there every step of the way, yet nothing had prepared her for this. Somewhere along the way, he had lost himself. Burning like the morning star, he had fallen from grace.

The demon before her now was not the same boy she had once loved.

“Don’t you recognize me? Don’t you know me?” His tone seemed mocking.

“No,” she breathed out.

She really didn’t. She knew Floch, but this wasn’t her Floch.

Her Floch was a little boy introduced to her by her parents as a toddler. He was a little boy who had loved to play with her as a child and would race her down the hills in summer.

Her Floch was a cocky little brat with a dumb haircut who had decided to join the military and enticed her to follow. He was a little brat who liked to tease her and gave her smirky smiles that made her want to hit him.

Her Floch was the teenager that had returned from Shinganshina with a haunted look in his eye. He was a teen that had wept as she held him and had been woken up by his own screams from nightmares that made his throat raw.

Her Floch was the man that had swore to love her and marry her once the war was over. The man that had pledged himself to her and kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered in their cruel world.

This demon before her was not someone she recognized. He was a stranger in familiar skin, a traitor in her country’s uniform, and she could feel her heart crack painfully in her chest.

“I wanted you to join me, you know,” Floch broke the silence, “I told you to help me leak the information when the time came. Had you helped me then, you could have stood at my side rather than being locked up in a cell.”

She closed her eyes and more tears fell. He had asked her for help back when Eren had been arrested. She had refused because she felt it was the wrong thing to do. She had trusted Hange and the military and thought that their orders for secrecy were for a good reason.

Now she couldn’t help but wonder if she had been wrong. If she had gone with Floch, could she have stopped all of this from happening? Could she have led him back to the light and kept him from losing himself in the darkness?

She had a feeling the question would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Please,” she tried again, “Please come back to me. It’s not too late-”

A cold laugh broke through his throat. He lowered the gun just slightly and pressed a hand to his forehead as if the very thought made him want to double over. His eyes made her shiver.

“But it is too late, doll. Pretty soon Eldia will be restored and all of you, the military that betrayed Eren, will be known as traitors. The people will want you hung. Anyone who stood in the way of the Eldian Empire from rising will water its prosperous fields with their blood.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want me dead-?”

Her breath hitched. She felt lightheaded and had to lean against the cell door in order to keep herself from falling.

What was happening? The room seemed to be spinning.

This wasn’t the man she loved. The man she loved was kind if cocky.

He had been her childhood friend and had seemed an extension of her own soul. She had known his name before she had even known her own, had spent hours at his home playing with him, and had embraced him with sticky fingers from the candy they would share as a symbol of their friendship. He had been the cocky little teen that had stars in his eyes when he told her he had enlisted, had spun her around in excitement when she had joined the military to follow him, and had kissed her when she had chosen the Scouts just like him. He had also been the man that had promised to love her forever, the one that had held her through all those years, and the one that had teased her about marrying her once the war was over.

This man before her was none of those things. He was a cold hearted terrorist that had killed and would gladly kill again. Nothing of the old Floch was left in this new stranger.

“I don’t want you to die. It’s actually a shame to let someone so valuable die. You were a great soldier, no one could beat you in training, you would have made a great fighter for Eren. It’s a tragedy to let someone’s potential die with them.”

She swallowed painfully. She could feel her pulse roaring in her ears, and her hands shook from keeping them up for so long.

“For Eren,” she whispered, “You only want me to live for Eren. Nothing else matters then?”

“Can anything ever matter when the Eldian Empire is facing a dangerous enemy?” He shrugged.

She shook her head and desperately wished she could get through to him. There had to be some part of him that had survived. He couldn’t have lost himself completely, surely?

“Floch,” his name tasted bitter on her tongue, “Please. You know me, you grew up with me-”

You loved me.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the last part, but the phrase could be read in her heart. She bared her soul to him and waited for his response. There had to be some part of him that still cared. He couldn’t have been completely lost.

“Once upon a time,” he finally answered, “Once upon a time I did. Now, all I see is a traitor. You sided with the losing side, doll. I told you Eren was our future, but you just stood there as Hange ordered my arrest. I really, really thought you would-”

His breath hitched and a part of his mask cracked. She felt a flicker of hope rise in her, but it faded as fast as it came. He gathered his composure again before she had even had time to blink.

Soon, the gun was pressed directly to her forehead. Her breath caught in her throat.

“But you’ll pay for it. All of you will pay. When Eldia rises, it’ll rise on the sacrifice of those who doubted it. Your mountain of corpses will serve as a throne for Eren and Zeke to sit on. They will lead this island to greatness, and you all will regret betraying your blood.”

He moved away and shoved her roughly inside the cell. She landed on her back and stared up at him stunned.

He was gone completely. The man before her was a stranger on the opposite end of a battlefield. Whatever he had been before, the man she had once loved, was lost. In his wake stood a demon who would love to see her dead.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face. She could feel the last of her strength seep out. Despair churned inside her.

“I love you, Floch,” she meant it as she said it and hated herself for it, “Even now. Even though I can’t recognize you, my heart is still yours. Is it not the same for you? Were all those promises of marriage a lie?”

“Shut up.”

He hissed the words out as he slammed the cell door shut. Locking it, he leaned forward until his face was pressed between the bars. His eyes were cold like a tundra.

“You know what’s really funny? I didn’t do this for Eren, not at first. I did this all for you.”

At that, she froze. Staring aghast, she could only blink up at him. “What?”

He continued and leaned forward further until their faces were only inches away. The bars dug into his skin, but he seemed not to notice. His eyes were trained on hers.

“I did this for you. All I’ve ever done has been for you. I joined the military to fight the Titans so that you could live in a world without them. I joined the suicide charge so that you could escape once the battle was over. I even joined the Yeagerists so that Eldia could rise to power and take its place as a powerful empire. I wanted you to live in a country where you didn’t have to worry about foreign enemies across the sea. I wanted our kids to live in a world where their blood wouldn’t be a death sentence across the world-“

“Our kids?” She repeated it numbly and felt her eyes burn, “I never asked for any of this! All I ever wanted was you!”

He slammed his hands against the bar startling her. She jerked back in shock and hit her head against the cot. Stars burst across her vision and a piercing pain reverberated against her skull. When her hand went to the back of her head, she felt blood.

“Shut up! You were the one who betrayed me! Don’t you remember?!” He was all but frothing as he clenched his fingers against the bars. His knuckles were bleeding from where he had punched the metal, but he seemed not to care. “You just watched as Eren was taken in chains. You just watched as Hange ordered me arrested. I wanted you at my side! I wanted you to join me and fight for our home! In my head, you were always at my side! You stood next to me and we watched our Empire proudly flourish with our family! Yet you chose the wrong side! You sided with the military. You chose them over Eldia! You chose them over me-”

He let go of the bars and moved away. His rage boiled under his skin and simmered in his eyes, yet he shoved it aside. Returning to his mask of neutrality, he pressed a hand to his nose and pinched the bridge.

“You chose this,” he repeated to himself almost as if he wanted to believe it. Needed to believe it. “You chose the wrong side, doll. Now you pay the price. Eldia will rise and all of you traitors will regret ever standing in the way of your motherland.”

She scrambled to her feet as he turned around. Her head was bleeding and she pressed one of her palms against where it throbbed. Her other hand reached for him through the bars, but he was out of reach.

“Floch, please!” Her tears were running down her face now and her vision was doubled. The blow to her head made her feel dizzy and nauseous. “Please! Come back to me! Please! I love you!”

Numbly she repeated it. Her vision was growing dark, and she wondered if she had a concussion. She swayed in place but kept reaching for him.

If only he would turn around. Then he would see that she meant it. Then he would see the love that blazed in her eyes despite the hatred that burned in his heart-

But he didn’t. Instead, he gave her his back and swung the weapon over his shoulder. Snapping into the facade of a terrorists, he banged on the door to signal the Yeagerists outside to let him out.

Ignoring her pleas, he nudged his rifle as he walked away.

“Don’t escape again, doll. Next time, I will put a bullet in your brain.”

With that, the door clanged shut behind him.

Left alone, darkness creeping into the edges of her vision, she sank to the floor. Her eyes struggled to remain open and her head felt like it was splitting into halves.

She called his name softly and was met with silence. Heart obliterated in her chest, she sank to the ground and let darkness take over. The fight had left her just like him.

He was gone, she realized, the man she had once loved had been replaced with a stranger. The boy from all of those years together had been killed by the terrorist inhabiting his body. Whoever the demon in his skin was now, he was not someone she could ever hope to save.

The thought made her close her eyes and fall limply to the ground. She curled up into a ball and let the concussion win out. Her will to fight had been broken just like the remnants of her heart.

And, as her consciousness faded into the darkness, so did all her hope of ever bringing him back into the light.

#floch x reader #aot x reader #floch forster

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bugabash · 3 years ago

Text

Hold Me While We Fall Chapter 4

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child abuse, domestic abuse, depressed little Plagg and abusive Gabriel!! This chapter is about Plagg's childhood up to when he joins the cadets, there are heavy themes of abuse and graphic descriptions, please be aware of this when reading this chapter! The next chapter will not have this as it will be from when he is away from his father! Also sorry for disappearing lol, I got distracted by drawing :D Please enjoy ^.^

All art is on my insta! Tumblr has shot the quality

First / Previous / Next

AO3

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Plagg's Backstory Part 1: Tragic Childhood

Edward Phillip Agreste was born in the year 827 during one of the coldest winters the people within the walls had ever experienced. A blizzard raged on as the small, frail boy came into the world earlier than he should have, his hair as black as the night and his eyes a dark green. His mother cradled the sickly child as he cried out into the night, declaring he was a treasure she had waited her whole life for and that she loved him more than life, all while his father watched from a distance. Edward was born in the first year of the marriage between the cruel and feared Commander of the Military Police, Gabriel Agreste and Emilie Agreste.

Being their first born son and the heir, a lot of responsibility fell onto his tiny shoulders as soon as he took his first breath, and with that came his father’s high expectations. Gabriel watched from across the room, watching the frail boy with narrowed eyes.

Emilie looked up and smiled at her husband, “Gabriel, come and hold him.” She said, shifting the crying boy in her arms for her husband to take him. Gabriel approached the bed, a look of disgust on his face. “Isn’t he perfect.” She stated, looking up at Gabriel with love in her green eyes.

“Don’t make me laugh.” He replied in disgust, Emilie’s smile faltering and she pulled the baby closer to her. “Look at that child, he is too sick to survive. I find it hard to believe it’s even mine. I could never make something so… weak.”

“What?” Emilie exclaimed, “how could you say that? He’s our son! Please, Gabriel!” Gabriel glared at the screaming infant before he turned and left, ignoring his wife’s pleas.

From that day, Edward’s father rejected him and openly spoke about his distaste for the boy when in the walls of their home but he had to accept that he was the new heir and so he set extremely high expectations for the boy. As Edward grew up he felt the hatred from his father and endured constant mental and, by the age of four, physical abuse for misbehaving or simply getting too much attention from his mother.

As he grew into a young boy he grew stronger but still struggled at times with his health, spending many nights up coughing in his bed while his mother stroked his hair, singing to him. But even with his poor health he grew rather tall for his age, with lanky arms and legs with a skinny physique, which he discovered was an advantage when he found he loved climbing trees and buildings to escape from his father and the military police. He was known in the town as mischievous and always getting into trouble, which in turn brought on more trouble from his father when he would be at home.

Plagg was sitting at the large dining table a few days before his fifth birthday, eating his dinner in silence sitting across from his mother, poking at the way too big portion in front of him. He hated the family meals, he saw poverty in the city all the time, saw the children at his school who barely ate, so seeing the big meal in front of him made him lose his appetite.

He had a newly black eye and a split lip from a beating from his father for getting caught exploring the military police headquarters earlier in the day, the throbbing a familiar feeling to him now. He looked up at his mother who was quietly eating, her eyes downcast onto her food, purposefully avoiding looking at him. He wondered if she ever questioned his father’s actions towards him or if she spoke up for him when he wasn’t there like she used to, but he had learnt long ago that speaking out to his father resulted in punishment. He remembered the bruises he saw on her when he was smaller, he hated them on her face, remembering the pain he saw he had caused, so he never spoke up to her.

“Edward.” He heard his father’s blunt tone boom across the table, making him flinch and look toward his father who sat at the head of the table, his light brown hair in his usual slicked back style, his piercing blue eyes boring into him causing a cold sweat down his back.

“Yes, father?” He responded, sitting up straight and placing his hands in his lap as he avoided his father’s gaze.

“Your mother is pregnant it seems.” He said bluntly, picking up his cutlery and started cutting up his dinner, his eyes leaving Edward and looking down at his food. Edward’s eyes widened and he looked over at his mother who finally looked at the small boy and smiled, her hands over her stomach, “so you need to stop being such a nuisance and causing so many problems for me.” Edward gripped his hands in his fist tightly, looking down at them, “you will hopefully have a brother, a good and proper boy unlike you,” Edward gulped, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Gabriel, don’t speak to him like that.” Emilie spoke up, Edward’s eyes shooting open and he looked up at his mother in shock, “please.”

“I will talk to him however I want, Emilie.” Gabriel boomed out, “Edward, if it is a boy and he is… a more appealing son he will inherit what you are meant to and will take your place.” Edward gulped, his black spiky hair shading his face, as his eyes moved to his father, he didn’t understand a lot of what was said but he knew he felt hurt and betrayed, “I hope this one isn’t a disappointing mangey stray cat like you.” Edward looked down, he hated being called that. His father told him he was an unlucky black cat all the time, saying he wasn’t even worthy of being called the black sheep of the family. And because other’s had heard his father calling him that, the kids in the city called him that too, which ended up with him getting into a fight over it.

“So,” He spoke up in his soft voice, “I’m going to have a baby brother or sister?” He asked looking up at his mother who smiled at him.

“Yes, dear, you’re going to be a big brother.” She said before standing up and walking over to Plagg, pulling him into her arms as she knelt by his chair. He wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tight.

“Do not coddle the boy, my love. He is not worth it.” Gabriel said before he started eating his dinner. Plagg gritted his teeth together before pulling away from his mother and ran from her and the table. He felt his eyes hot with tears as he pulled the door open and started running to his room, hearing his mother calling for him. He hated his life, he only knew comfort from his mother and when he was high in a tree or a building. But maybe, being a big brother would change things. Maybe…

Eight months later, Edward stood at the doorway to his mother’s room as the doctor smiled at him, the room was filled with the soft cries of a baby. His mother lay in the bed, her hair drenched and a smile on her face as she cradled the small child. Edward had been woken up that morning to his mother’s screaming and was told she was in labour. Seeing her now, she looked tired but happy. She glanced up and saw him, reaching a hand out to him.

“Edward, come and meet your new baby brother, Adrien.” She said softly, Edward nodded and ran over to her, climbing onto the bed and moving close to her. He looked down at the small baby in her arms, he was bundled up in a green blanket, his small bits of hair a prominent platinum blonde and his little hands in fists. Edward blinked before he reached out and stroked the boy’s head, smiling at him. Adrien opened his eyes and seemed to look directly at Edward, his eyes were green, just like both his and his mother’s. Edward gasped as they locked eyes, Adrien grabbing onto his thumb with one of his small hands, his cries stopping and instead silence filled the air. “He likes you.” His mother whispered with a laugh.

“Hello Adrien.” Edward said softly, his heart skipping a beat and his mind racing. “I promise to be the best big brother ever. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He said confidently. He looked at his mother who was smiling lovingly at them, “it’s a man’s promise.”

Age: 7

Plagg sat on his windowsill looking out over city of Stohess from the giant, eye sore of a fortress he called home. He hated the look of everything here, it was too clean, too fake. He huffed and stood up, curling his toes over the edge of the stone windowsill. His bedroom window was high up, high enough that one misstep and his father would get his wish of him not existing anymore. But he liked it up here, it was free. He smiled and closed his eyes as the wind blew, raising his arms up and imagining he was flying through the air, no cares in the world, forest surrounding him and the sound of nature, not rich snobs complaining about the poor. He felt weightless, free, and-

“Edward!” He heard his mother scream before he was pulled back, her arms wrapped around his small body tightly as she fell back onto the floor. His mother still called him by his actual name and not the name he had stuck with after his little brother Adrien started calling him Plagg when he started speaking. He didn’t mind but he had now grown to hate his real name, it felt too formal.

Plagg blinked and held onto his mother’s arms, looking up at her and meeting her green eyes. They were wide and full of panic as she stared at him. He blinked a few more times before he wriggled out of her arms and sat in front of her, his dark green eyes watching her as he sulked.

“Edward, you can’t do that! What if you had fallen?” She exclaimed as she moved to her knees, reaching out and taking his hands. “You need to stop this! I cannot lose you, do you understand?”

Plagg just looked at her before huffing and pulling his hands away and hugging his knees to his chest. “Who even cares. I know father doesn’t.” He grumbled out, resting his bruised cheek on his knee as he looked away.

His mother sighed before shifting closer, “but I do.” She said reaching out and gently cupping his face and making him look at her. He looked up at her reluctantly before leaning into her warm, accepting touch. “I care more than anyone ever will, because you’re my little lucky black kitten.” Plagg felt his heart jump at the nickname, his mother had started calling him her lucky black cat or kitten since his father had started calling him an unlucky black cat the years before when Plagg had got in trouble again with the military police for climbing buildings and throwing eggs at them. He closed his eyes and felt his lip tremble before he crawled forward into his mother’s loving arms. He curled up in her lap as she held him, stroking his unruly black hair.

“Why does father hate me?” He asked softly, “what did I do?” He felt tears filling his eyes and he never wanted to leave his mother’s arms.

“He doesn’t hate you.” She whispered softly, kissing his forehead and twisting one of the locks that stood up on his head. “He just doesn’t see how special you are.” She cupped his face and smiled lovingly down at him, “he doesn’t see the bright light inside of you that I see.”

“But… I just break everything I touch.” He grumbled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “Father said that I am more of burden than anything.” He looked away. “He wishes I wasn’t born.”

She took a deep breath and leant down and kissed his forehead again, “don’t listen to him, he is just bitter. Bitter people have the worst opinions on others because they don’t even like themselves.” He looked up at her, blinking away his tears. “You were my first ever treasure in life, my black haired beauty.” She said with a beaming smile, swooping him up in her arms and standing up, walking over to his bed and lying them down, snuggling him close, “you came into this world screaming your lungs out, so vocal and opinionated and you wanted everyone to know.” She chuckled, Plagg snickering softly, “and when I first held you I felt so happy, I felt like I was almost complete, your love filling a giant hole in my life.”

“Almost?” Plagg asked hesitantly, the fear of being rejected by his mother too overtaking him.

“Well of course,” She said softly, stroking a strand of hair out of his face, “and then five years later I was made fully complete when I held both you and your brother in my arms.” Plagg’s fear disappeared just as it arrived, smiling up at her. “You two complete me, you make me whole and my love for you will be with you forever.”

“Do you promise?” Plagg asked softly, his eyes begging her.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She replied, crossing over her heart and smiling at him. He smiling his Cheshire cat smile that he was known for, usually it was for mischief, but now it was filled with love. He buried himself in his mother’s arms, nuzzling against her chest, breathing in her scent and feeling her love. He could stay there forever.

If only he could have. But reality took over and soon he was back in his father’s office for something he had done, he wasn’t even entirely sure what exactly. He wore a bandage stuck to his cheek over a cut on his cheek bone under his black eye, a fresh cut on his nose and a split lip from the hits he had just received. He stood there trembling, his hands in fists by his side as he stared up at his father. He was confused and his heart hurt, why was he treated like this? Why? What did he do?

“Father…” He trembled out, Gabriel turning and looking at him as he frowned, wiping his cane with a handkerchief. “Why do you hate me?” He asked genuinely, “I don’t understand!”

“Why?” Gabriel questioned with a raised brow as he approached the boy, kneeling in front of him, Plagg’s eyes widening in fear. “Because from the moment you were born, even before that, you have brought me nothing but problems and when I look at you, I see a failed experiment.” Plagg gulped, “I hate you, because you should never have survived, and now your disgraceful actions and you just breathing brings shame to me and the Agreste name.” Plagg backed off, Gabriel smiling wickedly, “does that answer your question, you mangey cat?” Plagg gulped before turning and running from the office, breathing heavily and regretting even asking him. The words echoing his mind.

“You should never have survived.” Well, that just made Plagg more determined than ever to survive. He ran as fast as he could as he sobbed, he would escape this life. Nothing was going to stop him, not even his father.

Age: 9

“You mangy street cat!” Gabriel boomed before he struck his eldest son across the face with his cane, sending him to the floor with a yelp, cradling his wounded cheek. He gritted his teeth and glared up at his father, his eyes wide, his dark green eyes small and cat like as they glared at him, his teeth bared and his hands clenching into fists.

“Stop it!” Plagg yelled, grabbing one of the fire prongs from the fireplace and rolling to his feet, using the lessons his father demanded he did now being used against him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You dare bare a weapon against me after the shit you caused today?” Gabriel spat back, disgust all over his face. His greying brown hair was unruly, unlike the usual comb back he had, he was in his pyjamas and his expression was evil. They were in his office after Military Police had shown up with a handcuffed Plagg who was caught trying to escape out the main gate in the middle of the night. After that he was dragged to his father’s office and well, now here he was, nose bleeding, a pain in his side and a swollen cheek.

“I haven’t done anything! Nothing! I don’t deserve this!” He screamed, tightening his grip, “I haven’t done anything to you! All I did was be born! I didn’t ask to be born!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face.

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Gabriel spat back, raising his cane again as a threat.

“NO!” Plagg screamed desperately, “I don’t get it! Why? Why do you keep hitting me?” He felt tears stinging his cheek, “I’m a KID! I’m just a kid!”

“You are nothing more than a poison on this family!” His father responded.

“Says who? You?” His voice cracked as he screeched, “I’ve done nothing, father! I… I just wanted you to love me!”

“Love you?” Gabriel questioned before he scoffed, “I wish you were dead.”

He hated this man so much, he saw how evil he was, he was never loved by him, always looked at like he put a disgusting taste in his father’s mouth, so now, images of stabbing him with the fire prong came to mind and he felt the rage to put the action behind the thoughts. He felt the destruction in his body, he wanted to destroy everything. But then he saw images of his mother and he stopped, freezing in his place and it was just long enough for his father to step forward and smack him across the face with his stick, black taking over.

A while later he had come too, lying on the cold stone corridor outside his father’s study, he must have just been thrown out of the room by his father, his clothes cold and wet from his blood. He winced and slowly got to his feet, gripping his side and making his way to his room slowly to clean himself off. He limped up the stairs, passing his younger brother’s room and closing the door to his own. He leant against the door and stared at the floor in the dark. He wanted to cry, he thought it would be a natural response in a situation like this but, for him, this was normal.

So instead, he limped over to the sink in the corner of his room and started running the water, stripping his wet shirt off and throwing it into a bucket near him. He sighed and looked at himself in the mirror, the moon shining in on him and lighting up his bruised and bloody face, his freckles standing out against the redness, his eyes dancing down to his skinny physique. He had a giant bruise over his left side, an old wound having opened up and crusted over while he was unconscious. He gently cleaned it, wrapping his torso in a bandage with practiced ease. His lower face was covered in crusted and fresh blood, a weeping cut on his swollen cheek and a small cut over his eyebrow. He hissed as he dabbed it with a wet towel, this was always the worst part. He was a master at cleaning wounds and bandaging himself up now after years of abuse from his father, hell he had mastered it by the time Adrien was born.

“Plagg?” He jumped and spun around, eyes wide with fear of another beating, spotting the big, green eyes in the shadows on his bed. He let out his breath in relief and relaxed as he saw his four year old brother crawl over his bed and look at him as he knelt in the middle, rubbing his eyes. “You have a booboo, should I get mommy?” He asked in that innocent voice that always made Plagg smile. He was dressed in a matching green long sleeve pyjama set, his blonde hair unruly and sticking up in odd ways, unlike his usually perfectly combed hair.

“Nah, I’m okay. Your big brother just was out exploring and got into some trouble.” He said softly, walking over and kneeling in front of the bed as Adrien sat on the edge. He shielded his brother from his father’s cruelty, making sure he was protected and didn’t have the childhood he had, filled with abuse and hate. He smiled at the small boy, he must have snuck into Plagg’s room looking for him and just fallen asleep again. “It’s late, you should be asleep kiddo.”

“I came looking for you.” Adrien replied as he rubbed his eyes, “I heard yelling and got scared. But you weren’t here.” Adrien blinked up at Plagg before reaching out and patting his cheek gently.

“I’m sorry, kid, but you know even if I’m not here that you’re safe in my room.” Plagg said with a smile, even though it hurt and it pulled on the cut on his lip, he ignored it. “Let me just get cleaned up and we can go to sleep, okay? I’m assuming you’re camping with me tonight?”

Adrien grinned and nodded, clambering to his feet and bouncing on the bed, “Yes, yes, yes!” He said each word on each bounce, spinning and bouncing as Plagg laughed and went back to the sink to clean himself off properly.

He watched Adrien in the mirror, smiling and unscathed, a boy who could act his age and hadn’t matured so young from darkness. That was another reason why he would take his father’s beatings, because then Adrien would be safe. He would kill that man if he ever laid a finger on Adrien. He didn’t even feel the pain anymore, determination filling his body as he finished up, placing his bandages over his small wounds, glad he had the sticky one to keep them on his skin. He pulled on a dark grey shirt he found on the floor and limped over to his bed that he always thought was way too big for just one person.

He climbed in and Adrien hurriedly crawled over, climbing under the covers and snuggling close to his brother, Plagg smiling and hugging his baby brother protectively. He lay there, his arm tucked under his head as he looked into the darkness, the light glow from the moon comforting to him, as well as his baby brother gripping onto his shirt and humming softly.

“Plagg?” He heard Adrien say softly, snuggling into Plagg’s chest.

“Yeah?” Plagg replied softly.

“Can you tell me the story again?” Adrien asked softly, lifting his small black cat toy and bouncing the legs on Plagg’s chest like it was walking.

“Sure.” Plagg responded, rolling over and looking up at the roof, chuckling at his little brother using him as part of his imagination. “There once was a little black kitten who nobody wanted. They said he brought bad luck with him because of how he looked. The people would throw things, chase him away and would blame any misfortune on him.” Plagg said softly, Adrien resting the cat on Plagg’s chest now, listening intently. “The black cat never understood why people didn’t like him or why they mistreated him, he couldn’t help how he was or looked, all he wanted was to make friends and to be part of a family.”

“Because he didn’t have one.” Adrien added.

“That’s right, he didn’t have a family anymore, he ran away from his family.” Plagg responded, “and so, for years the sad and lonely black cat wandered the earth, hated and misunderstood, until one day he met a group of other black cats all living together, and as he approached them cautiously, expecting to be hit or swatted away, they all watched him.” Adrien yawned and snuggled up closer, “then, they all burst into joyful laughter, welcoming their fellow black cat. Now, the little black cat was shocked, no one had treated him this welcomingly in his entire life. “But… I’m different, people don’t like me.” The cat told them, and they all said together, “No one likes us but we like you!” And so, he started to live his days with his new friends, and the insults and the hatred towards him was shouldered by everyone who was with him now.”

“He lived his days laughing and doing what he enjoyed with his friends, he was happy, but he felt like something was missing, and so one day he went out. He was walking along, hiding in the shadows to avoid those who hated him, when he came across a little ladybug.” Adrien squeaked softly, Plagg smiled more knowing this was his favourite part. “This small, little ladybug was sat on a rose, watching the cat. The cat slowly approached it and sniffed at it,” Plagg made the sniffing noises, Adrien laughing sleepily, “and the ladybug jumped into the air in fright. The black cat sighed, his tail falling as he realised even ladybugs didn’t like him. But then, the ladybug landed softly on the tip of his nose. He was in shock, watching as the ladybug stared back at him with big black eyes. The two creatures stared at each other, one was viewed as good luck while the other bad. They just stared before the cat laughed into the night, asking the ladybug why it hadn’t flown away. The ladybug simply pressed a kiss on the feline’s nose before flying away.” Plagg glanced down and saw Adrien’s heavy eyes drooping slowly. “And the black cat found what he was missing. He realised he wasn’t bad luck, and he didn’t care if others didn’t accept him. Because he had been granted something special from the ladybug.” He smiled and pulled the blanket over them, settling in as he heard his brother snoring softly. He reached his hand out towards the roof, his smile falling and his brows furrowing. “A lucky charm.” He whispered, clenching his fist shut.

---

The next morning Plagg stayed in his room after their mother came for Adrien, he would have to lay low for a while to make sure that no one saw the extent of his injuries for a little while. He knew the consequences if people started asking questions, not that they would when his father was the commander of the military police.

Plagg huffed and rolled onto his side, curled up in a ball and squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to escape, needed to, wanted to disappear. He felt like a rat in a cage in this house, he had to run away, escape somehow.

That’s when he heard the whoosh outside his window. He gasped and sat up, scrambling to his feet and running to the window, looking out and spotted the people responsible. His eyes widened and he stared at them with awe. He saw the green cloaks billowing behind them, but what stood out was the wings of freedom standing proud on the cloak. The scouts. Plagg watched in wonder as they flew through the air, releasing their chords and getting higher and higher. He jumped onto his windowsill and with memorised movements he climbed up onto the roof, clambering up until he was at the highest he could get, clinging onto the one beam as he watched them in the distance grapple to the wall, running up the fifty metre wall like it was nothing. He watched with amazement and wonder if that’s where he should be, on the wall, he should be in the air, flying. He needed his wings of freedom.

“Hey.” He spun around and spotted a tall man landing behind him, a scout with light brown hair and kind hazel-green eyes, a scar over his right eye and tanned skin. “You okay, kid?” He asked, genuine concern on his face. He seemed kind, Plagg could tell, his voice calming and almost fatherly. He knelt down and was examining Plagg’s face, frowning at the bruises and cuts on his swollen face he realised a second too late. He had messed up, someone had seen his injuries, and not just anyone, a scout.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to see the scouts and my window doesn’t have the best view.” Plagg responded, standing up a little taller, internally screaming over the fact he was meeting a real soldier and not some asshole from the military police.

“Wait, you climbed all the way up here?” The man asked in surprise.

“Yup, I can climb anything! It’s all about body movement.” He said proudly, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

The man chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, I bet you can, but I bet you can’t climb that.” He said before pointing at the wall.

Plagg looked at the wall and sighed, “Yeah, but one day I will!” He exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. “One day, I’m joining the scouts and I will be free! I will make it to the top of the wall and get far away from this shithole.” He looked back at the man with a determined grin.

“Oh, a future scout, huh?” He asked, resting on his knees. “You realise how dangerous it is being a scout?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“No more dangerous than here.” Plagg replied with a huff, sitting down and crossing his legs, gripping his ankles and frowning as he felt his cheek throb.

“Is that so? Did your dad do that to your face?” The man asked, Plagg’s eyes widening and fear turning his blood cold.

“N-no!” He exclaimed, looking up at the man with wide eyes, “I-I’m sorry, I have to go!” He said as he scrambled to his feet and started towards the ledge to get back to his room.

The man blinked and jumped up, “hey! Wait!” He called out, reaching out and grabbing Plagg’s arm. “You’re Edward Agreste, aren’t you?”

Plagg looked back at him, his black bangs falling over his eyes, “That’s not my name! My name is Plagg.” He said stubbornly.

“Okay, Plagg, did your father do that to you?” He asked softly, Plagg looking away.

“I’m fine. I brought it on myself.” He replied, feeling the man tightening his grip on his arm slightly. “I’ll be fine, I’m not a little kid.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I can see that, but you still shouldn’t have to deal with this. You certainly aren’t little, but you are a kid, and no kid deserves… that.” The man replied softly. “My name is captain Henry Wayzz, but everyone calls me Wayzz.” He said with a gentle smile, Plagg eyed the man, not sure how to react. Not many people treated him this kindly. The military police treated him like vermin and the people avoided him, not letting their children play with him in fear they will become like him. “Plagg is an interesting name.” He said, releasing Plagg’s arm as the boy turned towards him.

“I don’t like Edward, my baby brother called me Plagg when he first started talking and I prefer it. Edward is too…” He tried to think of the word as he sat down, Wayzz doing the sat and resting back against the chimney wall.

“Too Agreste?” Wayzz asked with a raised brow. Plagg nodded, rubbing his arm and looking away. “I bet your dad doesn’t like the name, bet that’s another way to rebel.” Plagg smiled mischievously, Wayzz chuckling low. “Very clever. I have met your father before, he doesn’t like me.” Wayzz said nonchalantly, fixing his cape and smirking at Plagg who just blinked, his fascination with this man growing with every word. “He didn’t like that I questioned him, do you question him too?”

Plagg gulped before nodding, “he says I’m bad luck and a poison on the family, he calls me a black cat or a mangy stray cat.” Plagg answered, hugging his arms close, “my mother says to ignore him, but he hates me.” He said, Wayzz’s lip curled in disgust, “he always has.”

“Do you know why?” Wayzz asked gently, Plagg shaking his head. “Well, I think you will like being in the scouts then.” He said with a smile, “you seem to be a resilient little man, I hope to still be here when you join.”

Plagg looked at the man and felt a pang in his chest at the idea of the man dying all of a sudden, “you can’t die!” Plagg exclaimed as he clambered to his knees, “because when I join you can be my captain!” Wayzz chuckled at that, standing up to his feet and smiling down at the boy, offering his hand to the boy.

“Well, I would be very honoured to be your captain, young Plagg.” He said with a proud smile, Plagg looking up at him in awe, he felt hope in his heart as he looked up at this man smiling down at him, his cloak blowing in the wind. He saw a future when looking at this man that wasn’t stuck in the fortress and being free from his father.

He took the hand and stood to his feet, grinning as he stood tall like the man and grinned, “Come on, I will help you down.” He said before scooping Plagg up, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his handles, Plagg watching as he slipped two fingers into the grip and clicked some buttons, a grapple shooting off and suddenly they were in the air. Plagg gasped and gripped onto the man tightly, his eyes wide and the wind blowing his spikey hair into an even more messy state. He looked around as the world around him flew past him, his stomach lifting and turning, the feeling incredible. He felt free, his grip loosening and his one arm lifting into the air, the wind putting pressure and pulling a laugh from him. It was incredible, he felt almost complete, just how her mother described it. In the air, all his problems seemed small, stuck to the ground as he flew.

But soon he was on the ground, Wayzz placing him down and smiling down at him, holstering his grips and opening Plagg’s front door, looking down and blinking as he met Plagg’s smile fell and a new frightened expression taking over and wide eyes.

“F-father.” He said, looking in and staring at his father who was in his full military uniform, his military police badge standing out, his hair combed back and his small staff he would use on Plagg held behind his back as he walked. He stepped out and glared down at Plagg before looking at Wayzz who eyed him, stepping in front of Plagg slightly.

“Commander Agreste.” Wayzz greeted with a nod, “I have just met your son, he is an incredible young man.” Wayzz said with a smile, “you should be proud, he will be a fine soldier one day, a scout it seems. His climbing skills have really impressed me!”

Gabriel glared at Plagg who hid behind Wayzz even more, gripping his cloak. “I see, but Edward will not be joining the scouts.” Gabriel said, frowning at Wayzz, “Captain, was it?”

“Yes sir, Captain Henry Wayzz.” Wayzz responded.

“Well, Captain, Edward will not be joining the scouts, that would be unfitting for our family, he will follow in the Agreste line and enter the military police. I have already decided on his post.” Plagg blinked, his eyes wide.

“What?” Plagg exclaimed, stepping out and clenching his fists. “No way! I’m not joining the military police!” He growled, glaring up at his father. “They suck! They’re all bullies who pick on others!”

“Silence, Edward!” Gabriel hissed, bringing the cane from behind his back, Plagg wincing and hiding behind Wayzz more who was glaring at the Commander. “No one wants to hear from the likes of you.”

“Sir, are you responsible for the injuries on your son?” Wayzz asked confidently, Plagg panicking slightly and gripping his cloak even tighter.

“Why would you ask such a thing?” Gabriel asked in disgust, “no, I am not, my son is a mischievous boy, he is always getting into trouble and coming home with new cuts and bruises.” Gabriel lied expertly, if Plagg hadn’t told Wayzz he was sure that he would have believed his father, a fear in the back of his mind that Wayzz would believe him. “I would never lay my hand on my son.”

Wayzz nodded before looking down at the terrified child hiding behind him, Plagg was staring at the ground, his nails digging into the palms of his hand through the fabric of the scout’s cloak, his eyes wide and sweat building on his skin. “I see, well, I think I will pop by and check up on young Plagg here, help him decide on his future, as it is just that.” He said staring back at Gabriel with a smile, “his future.”

“Plagg? Oh for… Edward, stop telling people that stupid name.” Gabriel growled, Plagg hiding more and wincing at the harsh tone.

“S-sorry father.” Plagg muttered, Gabriel glaring at him even more. “I’m sorry.”

“Get inside, no one needs to see you when you look like this.” Gabriel growled before reaching over to grab Plagg, Wayzz grabbing him by the wrist before he could, his eyes narrowed and his face stone as Gabriel looked at Wayzz in shock.

“Sir, I would advise you not grab your son in that manner, especially with his injuries, or ever in fact.” Wayzz said, Plagg looked up at him and blinked, he was tall, the same height as his father and for the first time Plagg saw someone who was stronger and more intimidating than his father. Gabriel stared back in shock before pulling his arm from Wayzz’s grip, glaring at Plagg before he straightened his jacket. “I kill titans for a job, sir, have you ever even seen a titan?” Wayzz questioned, “so, you do not scare me, and you cannot bully me like you do your son.”

“Enough of this. How dare you speak to me like this! I will be speaking to your commander.” Gabriel said in disgust, “Edward, get inside.” He said before he entered his carriage, other military police soldiers watching with wide eyes.

Plagg watched in shock, his mouth hanging open as he stood frozen like a statue, gripping the captains cloak tightly still. “Woah…” He breathed out, “No one’s ever stood up to him before.” He managed out dumbfoundedly, staring back up at the man who was grinning down at him. “You really are like a super soldier!”

Wayzz laughed and knelt down, placing a hand on Plagg’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “I’m no super soldier,” he laughed, “I just said what someone should have said a long time ago.” Plagg smiled at him, he had waited for someone to say that since he was three years old. Wayzz chuckled and gently scuffed under Plagg’s chin with his knuckle, “I think you are the super soldier, kid.” Plagg blinked at him, “you have been through a lot, so keep your chin up, okay?”

Plagg nodded, letting go of his cloak and standing up straight, “yes, sir!” He said proudly, Wayzz chuckling softly. “I will come and visit you again soon, and I look forward to seeing you in the scouts, kid.” He said before he stood up, “now, go on in, and if he ever lays a hand on you again, you send me a letter.”

“But how will I know where to send it?” Plagg asked curiously, stepping into his house and looking up at the man.

“Look on your windowsill when you get back into your room, okay? I will leave a secret address to send it to.” He said before they both turned when they heard a high pitched giggle, blonde hair bobbing on the stairs.

“Plagg!” Adrien screeched excitedly, running over with his hands in the air and jumped, Plagg catching him and hitching him on his hip, smiling at his baby brother. Adrien patted his cheek before looking at Wayzz. “Who are you?” He asked curiously, big eyes looking up at him.

Wayzz chuckled and leant down, shaking Adrien’s small hand, “hello, my name is Wayzz, what’s your name.”

“My name is Adrien and I’m four!” Adrien said with a big grin, his green eyes sparkling, holding out four fingers. “You’re tall! Why do you have a scar on your face?” Adrien asked with no embarrassment, pointing at Wayzz face.

“Adrien, you can’t ask people that.” Plagg lectured, “sorry, this is my baby brother, he’s overly friendly.” Plagg said to Wayzz who just laughed.

“Ah, the one who famously named you! Wayzz said with a grin, “It’s been a while since I have been around children, so thank you. You have reminded me just how important it is to make sure you are safe.” Wayzz said as he straightened up. “I must go, take your brother in and stay safe.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his grips, “It was an honour to meet you, young Plagg, and you young Adrien.” Plagg smiled up at him, holding his younger brother close. “You look after your brother, at the end of the day it is you two against the world, understand?” Plagg nodded, smiling down at Adrien who was chewing on Plagg’s collar, watching with big eyes. “Oh, and Plagg, I don’t think you’re bad luck, or ‘mangy’.” Plagg blinked up at him, “you have a little brother who loves you and I can tell that you are his idol. I think you’re very lucky, and very unique. Never forget that.” Plagg smiled at that and nodded. Wayzz ruffled his hair, looking into Plagg’s eyes. “You didn’t deserve what has happened to you, and one day, I promise, you will be free.” Plagg clung to the words, desperate to hear them forever, he had been waiting for Wayzz to appear he realised. He gave him confidence.

“Thank you, sir!” Plagg puffed out his chest, “I will see you soon!” He said and grinned widely, “I will make you proud!”

Wayzz smiled before he ruffled Plagg’s unruly, spikey black locks, “you already have, kid.” He said before he winked and released his grapple, flying off.

“Plagg?” Adrien asked, Plagg looking down at his younger sibling, “can we go play?” He asked hopefully.

Plagg smiled and hugged his brother tight, his whole world seeming brighter and he didn’t feel as trapped. “Of course, kid.” Plagg said before he let Adrien down, “better go hide, I’ll count to 20!” He said, watching his brother run off as he laughed, closing the door behind him with a smile.

Age: 14

Plagg lay on his bed as a thunderstorm raged on outside his window, the rain pounding against the glass and the flashes of lightning lighting up the dark, cold room. He was lying on his stomach with his arms under his chin, watching the water drip into his basin across the room, his eyes dark and his cheek throbbing from the bruises that were starting to form on the right side of his face. He had received it from his father the day before, a painful gash over his right eyebrow and a giant bruise over the right side of his ribs and one down his spine. He had got into trouble because he had evaded his father’s solders, climbing up a building and hiding from them after beating three of the military police recruits to a bloody pulp for picking on some of the poorer people in the less sightly districts of Stohess. He didn’t care that he got hit for it, it was worth it. The soldier’s deserved it.

Plagg was now fourteen and had grown strong as well as tall, his jaw slowly growing more defined and his lip starting to show sign of facial hair. He had grown into a handsome young man who was extremely skilled in martial arts and swordsmanship, his tired appearance and most of the time laid back personality making other’s think he wasn’t much of a threat, which he loved. It meant that when he would beat up those who deserved it, it was even more satisfying. Wayzz didn’t agree with his fighting but he understood that it was to help people, but he would tell him off none the less.

He huffed and rolled onto his back, the skin on his bare chest gaining goosebumps from the cold. Plagg’ body was littered with scars, some faded and some more recent, marks from years of abuse from his father and from falling from high places when he was out. He hated seeing himself in the mirror all the same, his body covered with bad memories that brought a foul taste to his mouth. Scars didn’t bother him, hell he was so used to them more than wounds at this point, it was the fact he was just fourteen and had more than anyone he had seen.

He was replaying the plan in his head, over and over, he had already sent the letter to Wayzz, and he should have them just before it was time for him to leave. It was almost time, Plagg had endured enough and had perfected this plan after countless failed attempts over the years. But now this was his final chance, he had put it off for a year now but he couldn’t anymore. He had to escape and get to Shiganshina to meet Wayzz, to join the cadets with his help and get away from the hell that was his life.

He knew he had to get out of Stohess the week before during his fourteenth birthday when his father requested Plagg to join him in his office with Adrien, something that had never happened with Adrien there. He remembered the panic as he entered to find Adrien standing in front of their father’s desk already, hands behind his back and the usual sad expression he wore around their father that was so unlike his usual happy appearance. While Plagg was subjected to emotional and physical abuse from since before he could remember from Gabriel, Adrien was put under so much more pressure and treated coldly by Gabriel but never had a hand laid on him. Plagg made sure of that. After their mother died two years ago the abuse to both of them increased, Gabriel turning most of his attention on making Adrien the “perfect son”, all while making sure Plagg didn’t even have a place at the table to eat most of the time.

Plagg gulped and walked into the far too clean office that he spent many nights being subjected to horrific beats and turmoil, glaring at his father before he stood in front of the desk, slightly in front of Adrien protectively. Adrien was a small boy, he always had been since he was born, Plagg protected him in any way possible and was always giving him the love he wished he had as a child. Adrien gulped and moved towards his brother, easily hiding behind Plagg’s arm as they stood there, his hair combed perfectly and his clothes ironed and well fitted, unlike Plagg’s second hand, tatty clothes that nine times out of ten had a few holes in them.

“You called, father?” Plagg spoke up, his voice deeper now from puberty but still cracked in fear of what would happen to not him, but to Adrien.

“It is your fourteenth birthday.” Gabriel stated bluntly as if Plagg didn’t already know, not looking up from the papers he was scribbling on, “despite my efforts it seems your brother cannot actually take your place as the heir. So,” He looked up, looking at the two confused brothers, “you will be joining the cadets in the inner wall and will place in the top ten,” Plagg blinked, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, “then you will be joining the military police to follow in my footsteps like all first born Agreste men do. And if you do not follow my instructions I will ship you off to the worst districts where they are known for butchering the military police.” Plagg wasn’t usually shocked by his father anymore, but the fact he would dispose of him to gain what he wanted was… next level.

Adrien whimpered and hid behind Plagg, wrapping his arms around his waist and clinging to him, his face buried in his back. “No! Please, father! Don’t send him away!” Adrien begged.

“Silence, Adrien, this is a similar future for you, you will also be joining the cadets when you reach fourteen and will join the military police too, but I do not doubt that you will live up to my expectations, because you are my son.”

“So am I.” Plagg stated in a blunt voice, glaring at the man he called father.

“You, Edward, are not my son. You are just someone who unfortunately I cannot get rid of, do not mock me by saying you are my son.” Gabriel said before he stood up, “either way, no matter how I feel I have to follow tradition and so,” he sighed, grabbing a black wooden box and approached the boys, Plagg shielding Adrien more. Gabriel handed Plagg the box who looked at it curiously, he glancing up at his father before he opened it and found a silver, thick band signet ring. “I didn’t want to give this to you, you aren’t worthy of it that’ for sure, but your mother made me promise. It is a tradition for the first born Agreste boy to get this on his fourteenth birthday, and so now you have it.”

Plagg blinked at the ring before looking up at his father who was glaring at him, he met Gabriel’s eyes for a few seconds too long and knew it was a mistake, seeing the slap before it made contact. Adrien cried out and clung to Plagg more as he stumbled, cupping his cheek and gripping the box in the other.

“Don’t look at me like that, you mangey street cat.” Gabriel spat, teeth bared in disgust. “Now, both of you leave.” Gabriel said before walking back to his desk, Plagg grabbing Adrien by the underarm and pulled him out, hate growing in his chest. He knew then that he had to escape, his only regret was not being able to take Adrien with him.

Plagg sighed and sat up on his bed, looking down at the ring on his finger as he remembered everything, he hated that Adrien had seen that. Adrien was the one thing that brought doubt to his whole plan, he hated that he was leaving his brother behind but he knew that his father never laid his hands on Adrien and with Plagg gone he could inherit everything and have a better future. He hoped. He had already placed the letter in Adrien’s room, and had spent as much time with him that he could knowing that it could be the last time he saw him. Adrien could survive this world, Plagg couldn’t. And he knew that.

He got up and walked over to his dresser, his black long sleeved shirt folded on top of his too big dark green hoodie Wayzz had given him to wear under his cloak. He felt the fabric and smiled, he had never received clothes this new before, he pulled them both on and looked in the mirror, the candlelight flickering against his skin. He stared at his reflection and smiled, he saw the same kid he had seen for fourteen years but he also saw someone who was about to be free. He ruffled his spikey hair, grinning mischievously. He was excited, he felt lightning through his veins and he just wanted to leave now but he knew he had to wait just a little longer. He walked over to his desk where his bag lay open, all his supplies neatly packed with the paper’s Wayzz sent, hidden in his clothes. He gulped as he looked at everything he would own from tonight from this house, all his memories and everything from this life fitting into one bag, he had a few family sketches of Adrien and of his mother and he had stolen a bunch of cheese from the kitchen for the road and a scarf his mother wore hidden under everything. He would hug it when he was having one of his low stages, it smelt of her and he could close his eyes and picture her arms around him, stroking his hair and fighting his nightmares away. He would never leave that. He zipped up the bag and felt the hairs on his neck stand up and his jaw clenched, his body freezing and panic sunk deep into his soul.

He slowly turned and met his father’s piercing blue eyes from the doorway, he hadn’t even heard his father come in. He was in his uniform and his grey hair was slick back like usual, that damned cane in his hand. “F-father…” Plagg said before gulping, his father never came up to his room, he was always called to wherever his father was, usually the office. He couldn’t even remember the last time his father had been in his room. Plagg gulped again and looked around, thanking every god there was that he had spent the afternoon cleaning it for his departure, the last thing he needed was a beating for a messy room.

Gabriel took a deep breath before he looked around at the room, Plagg’s room was quite large, a double bed in the corner with a rug on the floor, a desk by his window with a candle lit on it and a large dresser in the corner by his sink and mirror. It wasn’t anything fancy but he knew that a lot of kids grow up sharing beds with their parents so he was grateful. It was usually a mess with clothes around and Adrien said it stunk of cheese which Plagg would argue was the best smell possible.

Gabriel walked over to the bed and looked at the dark turquoise colour, eyes falling on the black cat doll that his mother had made Plagg who in turn gave it to Adrien when he was younger. Adrien had grown out of toys and now it lived in Plagg’s room as a comfort to remember his mother. He glanced at the small stuffed toy nervously, fearful as to what Gabriel would do to it.

“I never understood why Emilie made you that stupid thing.” He said, tapping the cane on the floor before he looked over at Plagg, who was standing tall, his fists clenched and his jaw tight. “Oh unclench, I am here to talk.” He said with a roll of his eyes, sitting on the bed with a sigh and resting his hands on the cane. “I know you hate me, and I couldn’t give a shit that you do. But, unfortunately for both of us, you have to represent this family. And, so you will need to be on your best behaviour when you are in the military, especially the cadets.” Gabriel said, Plagg watching him carefully. “I will be getting daily reports and if I find out you have been slacking off or messing things up like usual I will give them permission to punish you as I would.” Plagg gulped, he didn’t even want to imagine what the military police would do to him if they got hold of him after years of tormenting them. “Do you understand?”

Plagg nodded, he may as well play the part, because as of tonight he would be a missing person and wouldn’t have to deal with his father again. If he played this right he could come out unscathed, but he needed to keep his cool.

Gabriel just sighed and stood up, glancing at the bag, “are you packing accordingly?” He questioned, to which Plagg nodded again, angering his father for not speaking. “Speak, you mangey street cat!” Gabriel yelled, raising his cane, “why can’t you be more like me or your brother! You are such a disappointment!”

Plagg stared at him, in disbelief that this was the man who he called father and who was the one who made him, how could such evil even create life, he had been tormented by this man for all his life, all because he was born. He never did anything to his father, all he did was exist and that was enough of a reason to this man to beat his own son. Plagg hated him, he wanted to destroy him, wanted to make him pay and to watch him crumble into ash. He ground his teeth, his eyes going dark and he caught the cane before it hit him, glaring up at his father through his loose strands of hair, every beating and every telling off giving him power as he faced his abuser.

“I would rather die than be like you!” He growled, Gabriel staring at him in disbelief, eyes darting from the hand on the cane and then back to Plagg who gripped it tight, his gaze cold enough to freeze a sauna. “I will never be as low as you, and you will always be just a sad, abusive old man high on power who only ever loved himself.” Plagg felt power in his words, he felt weight being lifted off his shoulders and as he stood there, feeling taller with every word, he saw the shock on his father’s face. “I feel sorry for you, I feel sorry for Adrien and I to have to have you for a father, and I feel sorry for the military police to have a fucker like you running it! If the titans ever did get in we are all screwed!” He was screaming now, hot, angry tears in his eyes. And with every word he saw the anger grow in his father’s eyes. “I hate you! I fucking hate y-” before he could finish his sentence a hand back hit him across the face and sent him to the floor with a grunt, blood splattering on the stone floor from his nose.

He coughed and cupped his nose, blood covering his hands pretty quickly, his new hoodie now decorated in his blood. He looked up in fear as his father stood over him, a new evil in his eyes and in that moment Plagg knew if he wasn’t leaving tonight that this man would kill him eventually.

It was thirty minutes later, he was curled up on the floor, his eye swollen shut, his body was on fire from the pain and he lay in a puddle of his own blood. His lip was swollen and his nose was still bleeding slightly, a gash over his right cheek under his blackening swollen eye and small minor cuts decorating his freckled skin. He sobbed softly, hugging his arms close to his body, hearing the door close across the room, Gabriel finally satisfied with the punishment.

Plagg whimpered and slowly pushed up to sitting, blood dripping from his hair onto the floor, a long strand of bloody drool falling from his lower lip. He sniffed and gently wiped his nose and mouth on the back of his hand. He grunted as he slowly crawled to his sink, gripping the edge and pulling himself to standing. He looked in the mirror, his vision through his one good eye blurry and he felt like he could pass out at any second. He had to get a hold of himself. He looked down at himself and saw he was covered in his own blood, his heart sinking as he stared at his clothes. He cursed and slowly peeled his hoodie off, biting his lip to stop from crying out in pain. He held the hoodie in his hands and watched as his tears fell and hit the material. It was probably ruined, but he was sure Wayzz would have a solution.

He sniffed and wiped his eyes again, looking at himself again and saw his baggy long sleeved back shirt had survived mainly unscathed. He met his eyes and glared, determination filling his heart and he was ready. It was time. He pushed off the sink and headed to his bag, his adrenaline kicking in as he stuffs the blood covered clothing into the bag and grabbed his dark brown cloak from his chair. He pulled his windows open and stared out at the pouring rain, he would need to climb down without injuring himself more. It would be a challenge but he had practiced for just this. He looked back, spotting the black cat on the floor where his father had thrown it during the altercation, his heart hurting. He walked over and slowly picked it up, gripping it tightly as he looked at it.

He looked up and felt doubt for a second, before he took a deep breath, the pain in his ribs pushing him on. He had to leave, Adrien would be better off as the future head, he would be okay. He stuffed the stuffed cat into his bag and climbed onto the windowsill, lightning lighting up the room, the thunder echoing through the house. He gripped the wood, the wind blowing his cloak as he pulled his hood up, and with one more look back he started his descent.

He got almost to the bottom when he lost his footing, something he knew was inevitable with how weak he was. He landed in a puddle with a thud, the air escaping from his lungs as he gasped, his eye blown wide. He lay there for a few seconds as the rain pounded on him before he climbed to his feet, gripping his side and started running, gripping his bag strap for dear life. He ran, the life he knew behind him, all his chains were broken and he was finally free. He would never see his father again and won’t ever have to see that cane ever again. He was… He was…

“Free…” He breathed, a smile spreading on his face as he looked up, squinting into the rain, he wasn’t fully free just yet, but… It was so close he could almost reach out and grab it. He could almost taste the sweet freedom, and he knew it would be a taste he will be addicted to.

He ran for what seemed like forever before he spotted the carriage exactly where Wayzz had said it would be. The single lantern letting him know it was for him. He approached the man hiding from the rain and dug in his bag, handing him the wet papers, panting and looking at the man desperately. The man looked them over before he looked at the young boy, eyeing his wounds and bruises before nodding. Plagg let out a sigh of release and limped to the back, climbing in and collapsing through the material covering the back. He lay on the floor, shivering and aching from pain, he closed his eyes and curled up, the carriage starting to move. He chuckled, and felt the adrenaline leave him, darkness taking over.

He awoke quite a while later, his clothes were still a little damp and clung to his skin. He was shivering and he was in a lot of pain. He grunted and pushed up, the sun shining through a few cracks in the material. It was daytime already? He blinked and climbed onto the bench, peaking out and gasped, they were approaching a gate in one of the walls. He spotted the face and without a doubt he knew where he was, he had slept a whole day, maybe two? Who knew, but he stared at the gate of Shiganshina. He had made it! He smiled small before his heart ached, staring down at his hands in sadness.

Images of his baby brother filled his mind, his big green eyes, his mop of blonde hair, and his angelic smile. He was Plagg’s best friend, and he wasn’t sure if he just gave him the life he could thrive in or sentenced him to suffering. He gripped the edge of the bench, his jaw tightening as his eye held all his sadness.

“I’m sorry Adrien.” He breathed, the pain almost crippling. But he had to stay strong, he would become a scout, get power and one day he would save Adrien if need be.

“Hey! You alive in there?” He heard the man yell, snapping him back to reality.

“Yeah!” Plagg called out.

“Get ready to jump, kid! There are some Garrison ahead checking carts, and I aint getting fined for some kid.” Plagg blinked.

“Wait, did you say jump?!” Plagg asked in disbelief. “You want me to jump from the moving carriage!?” He exclaimed in panic, standing up and peaking outside, and saw the ground was just dry dirt, even without his injuries this would be a hard and painful fall. He gulped and felt his stomach drop. He was in so much pain and was still exhausted, he looked back to where the voice came from.

“Yup! Unless you wanna deal with the Garrison soldiers!” The man said, laughing like an insane person. Plagg wouldn’t be surprised if he was. He gulped again and tried to calm down.

“Fuck…” He cursed.

“Now! Hurry!” The man yelled back, Plagg chewed his lip before he took a deep breath.

Plagg got ready to jump from the back of the carriage, pulling the material aside and took another deep breath. He called thanks to the driver before he gripped his bag and dove out, rolling as he hit the ground before skidding in the dusty dirt on his side, curled up. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched until he came to a stop. That hurt more than he wanted to admit, a whimper leaving his throat as he lay there.

He coughed the dust out of his lungs before slowly opening his good eye and looking around. He saw the gate to Shiganshina in front of him in the distance, and the houses he spotted were small and quaint, the town much poorer than Stohess, and he smiled at seeing all the people smiling and getting on with their day.

He chuckled before he spotted a red dress blowing in his peripheral vision. He blinked before he looked at where it was coming from, looking up at a girl maybe a few years younger than him looking down at him with wide eyes and raised brows, clenching her brown shoulder bag to her chest. She had her black hair in two high pigtails, her shining hair blowing in the wind around her, her cluster of freckles visible from where he was on the ground. Her eyes were a dark blue, watching him out of what he thought was curiosity and a bit of shock. He must had landed in front of her and scared the shit out of her. He blinked and felt his heart skip a beat, something about her made the world freeze and all he could do was stare at her. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever before she spoke up.

“U-uh…” She spoke, her voice soft and sweet like a song, her long eyes lashes fluttering as she blinked and shook her head, “are you okay?” She asked finally with a raised brow, Plagg realised he must look like a right creep, his face was beaten and bruised and he was dressed very ominously, not to mention he was on the ground covered in dirt.

“Y-yeah, sorry if I scared you, the driver said he wouldn’t stop so I had to jump.” Plagg explained before he scrambled to his feet, strapping his bag to across his chest, ignoring the aches and pains.

“You didn’t scare me.” She said bluntly, examining him, looking at his face to which he just blinked and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then she looked him up and down. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Uh, yeah, how did you know?” Plagg asked curiously, his breath catching his throat when she grinned and held up a finger knowingly, throwing her pigtails back. He blinked at her confidence and tell all attitude, watching the small girl grin with a raised brow.

“Simple! For one you are dressed way too nicely, and while your face isn’t something I don’t see everyday on kids who have been beaten up, I haven’t seen it around here before.” She said as she looked up at him, he just realised how small she was compared to him as she craned her neck slightly, how old was she? “So where are you from?”

Plagg contemplated on whether he should say or not, but something about her seemed trustworthy. “I actually just ran away from Stohess.” He admitted, “I’m here to join the cadets.”

“Stohess? The cadets?” She asked in shock, “why the hell would you come here when you could stay in the inner walls?” She asked, shifting her bag and placing a fist on her hip, a look of disbelief on her face.

“Uh… reasons.” He said with a nervous laughter, “don’t worry about that.”

“And why join the cadets?” She questioned, she was really chatty for someone who just met him, he wondered if her parents had told her about stranger danger.

“Uh, well, I have always wanted to be a scout.” He explained, shifting his bag and wincing slightly, “A captain there just helped me get away, and uh,” he tried to think of a good reason that wouldn’t make him seem like even more of a weirdo than he already seemed, “well, to be honest… I want to be free.” He admitted.

She raised her brow and frowned, “so you’re willing to be killed by titans to be… free?” She asked in disbelief.

“Well… let’s just say that where I came from was a hell of a lot worse than beyond the walls.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

“Hmm…” She hummed, eyeing him before she dug in her bag, Plagg raising his brows in confusion, watching her dig around, her tongue sticking out. “Ah ha!” She exclaimed, pulling out a small fabric bag and handing it over to Plagg.

“Uh…” He said as he stared at the bag with a raised brow, “thanks? What is it?”

“Sugar cubes.” She stated as if it was common knowledge. Plagg blinked and opened the bag, and low and behold there were sugar cubes in it. “It’s all I can spare, you look like you could use some sweetness in your life.” She said with a giggle, clasping her hands behind her back and smiling sweetly at Plagg. He blushed and blinked, no one had been this nice to him before, not a stranger anyway.

“Th-thanks…” He whispered, staring at the bag before looking back at the girl. “I’m Plagg, by the way.” He said, holding his hand out and grinning his Cheshire smile.

The girl smiled sweetly and shook his hand, gripping it firmly, “I’m Tikki.” She said, “I hope I’ll meet you again, Plagg. Maybe not, you know, exactly like this.” She said as she let go of his hand, motioning to the dirt covered boy who looked down at himself and laughed. “Good luck.” She said with a smile.

“I hope so too, Tikki.” He said with a smile, “I’ll, uh, see you around.” He said politely.

“I guess.” She said matter of factly, shifting her bag and flicking her hair back, Plagg blinked again, examining her. She was beautiful, and he could tell she would have ever guy after her when she was older, but he could already tell she would be able to handle them, her confidence sky rocketing. “See ya, Plagg.” She said before walking off.

He watched her walk off towards the gate, a tiny black haired girl with her long black hair flowing in the wind ran up to her and jumped into her arms, Tikki smiling at her before hitching her onto her hip, walking off and their laughter filling the world.

Plagg chuckled and smiled, he hoped he would see her again, but more importantly he hoped he would meet more people like her. He hoped his new life would be filled with people who would accept him. He hoped-

Before he could finish his thought he spotted a flutter of red and blinked, his body freezing and his eye stared in shock. A ladybug had landed on his nose, its small legs tickling his freckled skin. His breath caught in his chest and he gently moved the ladybug to his finger, staring at it. He looked at the ladybug and then back at the girl walking away and smiled.

"Well, maybe this black cat has a lucky charm afterall." He whispered, grinning and watching the ladybug fly away.

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

mists of celeste ➻ ten

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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mists of celeste act one ➻ part ten

The water is cold under your bare feet. The red moon cascades dark light over the lake, and you glance around in search of your typical companion. The water swirls around your ankles as you wade through it, moving closer to the shore. Daichi is at the edge again, squatted down on the rocks. He prods at the pebbles beneath the water with his fingers. As you get closer to him, you see that he’s drawing small patterns in them. They are familiar ones, the same design that lines the skin along your spine. You bring a hand to the back of your neck just at the thought of them.

“You messed up,” Daichi says once you’re within a couple feet of him. A frown comes to your lips. “You used your abilities. In front of many people. You could have been caught, Umiko. Do you not realize that?”

“I do.”

“Then what were you thinking? Have you grown to be that careless?”

You don’t answer the man; instead, you turn away from him to squeeze your eyes shut and try to reign in the anger that bubbles in your gut.

“Do you wish to be caught? Should the military take you back and use you as a siphon? Why be careless now, Umiko? For what? For lives that don’t matter?”

You spin on your heel and kick up some of the black water. It smacks Daichi across the eyes. He flinches away from the attack but doesn’t make much of an effort to block it. He wipes the water away from his face.

A moment later, you find yourself flat on your back in the water. Daichi hasn’t budged an inch, and you know that he’s using his own powers to attack you. You pull yourself up, clothes weighed down by the water, and lunge towards Daichi. He doesn’t even lift a finger to send you crashing to the water again.

“You are careless and juvenile. Too much is slipping through, and you are allowing it. You must hide your markings. You will be caught if you don’t. You are already dangerously close to exposing yourself. Whether you want to face it or not, there is a Siren nearby. You must acknowledge it and guard yourself properly against him.”

“Busy?”

The voice drags you out of the reverie, and you lurch forward as you pull yourself out of the dreamscape. You blink at the scene before you, the black landscape of space looming before you without end. You hadn’t even realized that you let yourself slip into the dreamscape while awake. The man who spoke comes up on your right.

“You’re up!” You exhale, surprise in your tone as you look at the man who smiles like a Cheshire back at you. You haven’t seen him since Yunho carried his scarily limp body off the transport ship. It’s a vague memory, especially since your body was still overrun by the adrenaline in your system. You do remember trying to follow Yunho only to be stopped by Jongho. The Berserker had told you to head back to your room and get some rest while Yunho worked his magic, and you had no choice but to do just that.

“Yea, none the worse for wear,” San laughs out. He scratches at the back of his neck. “Slept for three days straight though. I’m mildly impressed with myself. Almost pulled a you there.” He sends a cheeky wink your way. You scoff at his remark, reaching over to punch his bicep. “Ouch! Hey! Go easy on the goods. I’m still fragile.”

“Oh, quit whining. If you have enough energy to make fun of me, I can hit you.” You roll your eyes before looking back out into space. “What was Yunho’s verdict?”

“Overexertion,” San answers with a sigh. “Using my powers too much in a short period of time. I’m good to move around but I should avoid things that could be taxing. Which means no sex.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Your elbow finds San’s side as you utter the half-hearted reply. He whines at the impact. “Don’t complain too much or you’ll overexert yourself again.”

“Wow, ouch. I am physically hurt by your words. I cannot believe you would turn your back on me like this when I’m having such a rough time. The ultimate betrayal truly.” San places his hand over his chest, grasping the material of his shirt as he pretends to double over in pain. You award him with a slight glare. It’s enough to cause him to relent and stand up straight, looking out the window as you do.

You’re on the bridge for once. You try to make a point of avoiding the bridge simply because you don’t want to run into Hongjoong, and the captain spends all of his time here so it’s hard to avoid someone like that. You don’t have a choice today; Seonghwa asked that you come to the bridge first thing because Hongjoong wanted to see you. Of course, Hongjoong had to be busy with something right when you came to the bridge, thus here you are now waiting for said man to just hurry the fuck up and get this over with.

“I hate space with a passion,” you mutter after a few moments of just looking out into the vast emptiness.

“You picked a bad line of work then.” You release a laugh, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest.

“Maybe I did.”

“Why do you hate space so much?”

“It’s too big. Empty but at the same time full. So many unknowns out there.”

“Well, there are a lot of knowns as well,” San argues. “It isn’t all bad, is it? There’s a lot of beauty to space, even if you can’t always see it. Like an oyster or a geode. You can’t see the beauty on the outside, but the deeper you go, the more beauty you see. No?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you mutter. You drag your tongue over the front of your teeth, saying nothing more, but San doesn’t seem too bothered.

“It’s a bit ironic for you to hate space yet spend so much time in it.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Didn’t have any choice at all really.”

San laughs in response to your comment even though nothing about what you said is amusing in the slightest.

“I understand that feeling all too well.”

You neglect to reply. Something about his words and the tone lingering in them reminds you of what Yeosang had mentioned during the mission.

“San chose what he is, and he chose to be a weapon. He chose what he is on the crew for one very clear reason. It’s all because that’s how San views himself.”

You want to pry and ask San about it yourself, hear it come from his lips and not Yeosang’s, but you hesitate for too long. A door slides open behind the two of you, and you glance over your shoulder to see Seonghwa stepping out of the captain’s cabin.

“Hongjoong is ready to see you both,” he says in a flat tone. You turn to San unaware that he would be joining you in meeting with Hongjoong. It makes you feel mildly better about this situation because at least you won’t be alone with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “Follow me.” Seonghwa leads the way back into Hongjoong’s room. You follow first, San close on your heels.

The platinum-haired captain is the first thing you see when you enter the room. Then, a large desk covered in papers left and right. Some are maps, others seem like trade agreements, news articles, everything you can think of is splayed before him on the wooden desk. He lifts his head as Seonghwa brings you and San in.

“Did Mingi and Yeosang conclude the trade deals for the cargo yet?” Hongjoong asks, obviously talking to Seonghwa rather than you or San.

“They are still in the midst of collecting signatures and papers.”

As your gaze darts around the cabin, you notice how similar the structure of the room is to the other ship you were aboard not too long ago. You remember the missing bundle of papers all of a sudden, recalling that you misplaced them sometime after being brought to Yunho.

I should drop by and see if he has them. If he didn’t just give them to Hongjoong or Seonghwa already. Would he do that? I don’t have enough reasons to trust that he wouldn’t. Fuck, I should have never gotten caught. Shouldn’t have gotten shot in the first place either. Fucking careless and sloppy.

“Ah, good. The two of you are here.” Hongjoong sighs and drops the papers in his hand as he sees you and San step out from behind Seonghwa’s back.

You shift your weight from foot to foot. A sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. San seems to be in the same predicament; he picks at the skin around his fingernails while looking at the floor. Something about the way the two of you are lined up before Hongjoong makes you feel like a child again, being lectured by your teacher for misbehaving in class. Except this time, it’s far different than that. You stand before a dangerous criminal and pirate who could kill you in the blink of an eye should he not like your response to whatever he asks.

“San. What happened on the mission?”

San lifts his chin to look over at the captain, eyes gaining a bit more confidence as he begins to speak.

“I failed to keep my emotions in check and let Yeosang’s words get in my head.”

“Did you talk to Yunho about it?”

“He tried to help but there wasn’t much he could say or do to help.”

“Yunho isn’t a miracle worker,” Seonghwa cuts in, moving to the side of Hongjoong’s desk. He folds his arms behind his back and stands straight as can be. “He can fix the physical but not the mental.”

“I’m well aware of that, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong mutters back without looking at the Lieutenant. “However, Yunho is more in tune with his emotions than the others. People like that know how to talk to people. San, what is your opinion on the mission and the outcome of it?”

San purses his lips, looking down at the floor now. He takes a deep breath before beginning to talk again, this time in a much quieter tone.

“My own emotions were the cause for the failure of the mission. I should have stayed focused, and it is my fault that the outcome turned out the way it did. There is no one else to blame for it, and I fully acknowledge that. So, I apologize to both you and Lieutenant, Captain.” San pauses and turns to you now, eyes full of regret as he looks at you. “I’m sorry to you as well for my behavior and causing the mission to be a failure due to my actions.”

You open your mouth to respond, to tell him that there’s no need to apologize, just to reassure him maybe. You don’t get the chance to say anything though, because Hongjoong cuts in with another question.

“What happened after the mission?”

“I expended too much stamina using my powers and because of that, I overexerted myself. Passed out from the exhaustion.”

“And why do you consider the mission to be a failure?”

“It was supposed to be a covert mission. Get in and get out without being seen or heard.”

“Did you get what I wanted?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“What did the military on Medra have to report about the situation?”

San looks a bit startled by the question, jaw stuttering as he fumbles to come up with a response. Seonghwa pulls a tablet off Hongjoong’s desk and scrolls around on it for a bit before answering Hongjoong’s question.

“Medra reported a single dangerous criminal, highly trained and dangerous. One who was able to dispatch a unit of soldiers with ease, but one and only one criminal. Used a sniper rifle, pistol, and a knife to kill the soldiers.”

You listen on with a growing pit in your stomach. The more Seonghwa speaks, the more the report sounds like it is you who Medra reported. And if Medra reported you and your identity, then Hongjoong could get rid of you in the blink of an eye. You wouldn’t even get the chance to find your damn papers.

“That one criminal being Levi Tatsumaki, who has already been detained, brought into custody, and sentenced to death for larceny and murder.”

You nearly exhale a sigh of relief. Hongjoong grins at you and San.

“The mission went fine. Yes, your actions got you caught. However, you got the job done and removed a competitor in the process.”

You glance over at San, and his lips are curling down into a scowl. He doesn’t seem pleased in the slightest with Hongjoong’s words. Part of you thinks that he was hoping for Hongjoong to tear him down and ridicule him.

“I’m proud of you, San,” Hongjoong says. There is an uncharacteristic gentleness in Hongjoong’s tone. The cruel and almost evil exterior seems to melt away, revealing genuine concern for San’s wellbeing. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. If I were upset with your behavior and how you handled the situation, we would not be having this conversation. You are well aware of that.”

San nods along with Hongjoong’s words but doesn’t provide any further comment. The captain watches him in silence for a few moments before speaking again.

“You’re dismissed, San.”

The Spectre turns around without any hesitation, following the order with haste, and you opt to watch him walk out until the door slides shut behind his retreating figure.

“Now for you,” Hongjoong says. The warmth he had in his tone with San dissipates, leaving it cold and harsh again. “What is your opinion of the mission?”

“It was just fine,” you say as you attempt to keep your tone flat. “I’m not sure what you want to hear from me.”

“Why did you disobey Yeosang’s orders?”

“I saw an opportunity and took it.”

“Why?” Hongjoong presses further. You tilt your head to the side ever so slightly.

“It was an opportunity. Nothing more,” you reiterate.

“People don’t consider things to be an opportunity unless they see a good outcome to it,” Hongjoong says. He pushes back from his desk and stands up. In a few quick strides, he wraps around the wood and comes to a halt in front of it. Arms come to rest over his chest, and he leans against the lip of the desk while staring at you. “So what was the good outcome you saw in it?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You shake your head. “There was nothing to it. I just took the chance.”

“What did you think would happen after you took that chance?”

“I-I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about that. My… my first instinct was to shoot and kill. That’s what I did.”

“I wonder if that’s what you did with the king as well?” Hongjoong’s tone trails off into inquiry, and he mirrors the tilt of your chin. “But it can’t have been. Nobody ever just takes those chances. They see something in them. I think I have you figured out, Y/N L/N. Even if you don’t want to admit it outright, your first instinct was to protect. You heard that San was in danger, you felt the need to protect him, and you felt the need to repay him for what he did to save you initially. Thus, you wanted to save him. Removing the obstacles in your way was the first step: Yeosang’s orders, the physical distance, the soldiers in your path. You may not want to hear it or admit it, but that is the reason for your actions.”

The man smirks at you as he finishes his crude analysis of your behavior. You straighten your head again, glaring at him with such intensity that Seonghwa takes a step in your direction. Hongjoong lifts a hand to stop him though. He nods his head ever so slightly in your direction as though prompting you to speak your mind.

“You shouldn’t act like you know me because you don’t,” you spit out with vehemence to your tone. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re wrong.” Hongjoong drops his chin as he chuckles. “I know one thing for certain. You are not an Elitist.”

The words cause you to freeze immediately. You feel all color leave your cheeks as your heart plummets, and you think that Daichi was right all along. Your attempts to stay calm and collected go out the window at Hongjoong’s accusation.

“You have a clever method of concealing yourself.”

You bite down so hard on your tongue that it draws blood.

“I’m not exactly sure what you are yet,” Hongjoong says as he brings his chin back up. The words bring immediate relief to your racing heart, and you try not to place a hand over your chest. “For certain, you are not an Elitist.”

“Why do you think that?” You ask in as stable a tone as you can manage.

“I have studied Elitists in the past, and I am one myself. I should know how my own kind behaves by now. They make decisions with their head and only their head. Follow orders they deem fair and necessary. They do not act on impulse and are calm and calculating. You seem to make decisions with your heart, act on impulse, lack a sense of calm, and do not follow orders.”

“That’s false logic. Every single person here is a criminal. Yeosang is a traitor, albeit a loyal one, but still branded a traitor nonetheless. Which one of you has ever followed orders in the past?”

“I specified fair and necessary orders. If you were truly an Elitist, you would’ve seen Yeosang’s reasoning in asking you to stay on the cliffside. If you were only thinking with logic, you would’ve followed his orders. However, you deemed it unimportant because you saw that you had an opportunity to repay a debt. That is all beside the point though. The real reason I wanted you here is because I need to know what you want to be on the crew. You have the same choice that every other person on this crew has had.”

“According to the military, I am a weapon. Don’t you view me in the same light?”

“This isn’t the military, Y/N. You have a choice.”

“I don’t want one. Decide what you need me to do yourself. You obviously view me as a tool to be used, and I am willing to be that weapon until you don’t see any further use for me. Or you can dump me out the airlock now. Or leave me on some planet. Pick your poison.”

“If you are so willing to chuck your life away without a care, why didn’t you just turn yourself in?” Hongjoong asks all of a sudden. “Yeosang mentioned that you told him you have no more goals in life. Either you’re lying to cover for something or you truly don’t care about your life. What’s your game? You could’ve been dead and gone already.”

“That would’ve made me a martyr. That’s not how I want to be remembered. That’s not what I wanted.”

“How do you want to be remembered then?”

“I don’t want to be remembered at all,” you utter. Your tone falls to a hush without you intending for it to, and Hongjoong’s gaze almost softens as he glares at you.

“So you’re running then. Interesting.” He pushes off the desk and drops his arms to his side. You blink at him with question in your eyes. “Very well then. I will have you be a weapon for me if that is how you wish to be treated. You’re dismissed.”

You offer a nod in response before turning around to head out of the office. Neither Seonghwa or Hongjoong say anything else. The door slides shut behind you. You hesitate there for a moment, mulling over what Hongjoong said to you before making your way to the med bay.

I have to get those papers and get out of here as soon as possible. It’s only going to get more dangerous as time goes on, and I can’t risk any of these people figuring out more than they already know.

Your knuckles rap against the cold metal of the med bay door. You have fingerprint access to the room, but it still feels awkward barging into rooms left and right without warning.

“Come in!” Yunho’s warm voice welcomes you in, and you tap at the keypad before stepping into the cool interior of the med bay. “Oh! Y/N, I’m glad to see you.”

He grins from ear to ear as he sees who you are. You return the gesture with a small smile of your own but can’t keep your eyes from darting around the room to see if you can find any sign of your papers.

“I’m really happy to see you up and moving alright. I heard you still managed to handle things with relative ease during your mission.”

“I did, yea. B-But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh, of course! Do you need a checkup on your arm? I think those stitches should be ready to come out by now.”

It isn’t the reason for your visit at all, but you’ll go along with it for now. At least until you find what you’re looking for, that is. You seat yourself on the edge of one of the white beds and hold out your arm for Yunho. He takes hold of your wrist, pushing your sleeve up with a gentle touch that causes goosebumps to ghost over your skin. He tugs at the white gauze around your healing wound until it comes completely loose.

“Look at that. Ready to come out as I thought. Do you want me to go ahead and take them out? You can let them dissolve over time if you’d rather.”

“No, no. It’s okay, go ahead!” You motion towards your arm. As Yunho turns around and searches for some supplies, you blink around the room with a darting gaze. Even when he returns to you and starts pulling the stitches loose, you continue to look around.

“Is everything alright?” Yunho asks after a moment. You bring your gaze back to him. His lips are pressed into a delicate frown, and there’s a gleam of concern in his dark eyes. You push it aside with a small grin.

“I just can’t watch you pull them out. Makes me queasy.”

“I can make some small talk if you’d like?”

“Sure…” Your disinterest shows in your tone, however, and Yunho gives up on the attempts to talk with you. He pulls back from your arm.

“You’re free to go. Just don’t go picking at that wound anymore. I don’t wanna have to stick you with more needles.” Yunho winks as he looks at you out the corner of his eye.

“Wait!” You call out when he turns away from the bed. Yunho glances back at you, expectancy in his expression. “Did you – um, did you find anything on me when I first came in? With San, I mean? No, on me. But when I came in with San.”

Yunho tilts his head a bit and frowns at the ceiling.

“I don’t think so?”

“Are you certain?”

“I don’t remember seeing anything.”

“Nothing at all?” You continue to pry. Disbelief crawls into your tone. “A bundle of papers maybe? Tied around the middle?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N. Honestly and truly.”

“Are you sure you just aren’t remembering wrong? Or lying to me? Those papers are really important to me. Did you give them to Hongjoong?” Yunho’s jaw stutters at your accusations, and he releases a huff of air.

“I don’t doubt that they’re important, Y/N. Really I don’t. But I just do not know what you’re talking about. I saw nothing on you when you came in. And if it was something that belonged to you, I wouldn’t take it or give it to Hongjoong. I’m not that kind of person. I thought I’ve made that moderately clear by now, but maybe I haven’t. Whatever was on you wasn’t my main focus. It was treating your wound. I’m sorry.”

If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would not get so blindly upset with him like you are now. However, you aren’t thinking straight and all your brain can think about is the possibility of Hongjoong having ownership of those papers. Without a name to them, anyone can claim them, and it isn’t your intention to let the most notorious criminal in the universe have free pardon papers. You push up from the med bed and exit without saying anything else to Yunho. You’re certain that regret will bubble in your gut later, but right now all you can think about is going straight to your room and figuring out a plan of action in private.

You tap furiously at the keypad outside your door in your haste. It slides open with a whoosh. You aren’t expecting to find anything inside except for an empty room, let alone someone sitting on the edge of your bed. But there San is on the edge of your bed with a trembling knee and picking at the skin around his fingernails. When you step inside, he all but jumps to his feet.

“I’m sorry for intruding!” He says immediately before you can ask why he’s here.

“Do you need something?” You inquire, letting the door slide shut behind you. The lights flicker on when you hit the switch, San almost invisible in the darkness. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times. No words leave him for a moment, then he reaches into his jacket and pulls something out. You lunge forward to snatch the item from his hand before you can think twice. It’s your bundle of papers. The full pardon back in your hands. A laugh of disbelief escapes your lungs.

“I-I’m sorry for taking them,” San says as you look over the bundle. “I should’ve have taken them, and I know that. I was just worried that Hongjoong or Seonghwa would find them. Or worse, Yeosang. They must be important to you for you to have gotten shot for them so I… I tried my best to hide them. I wanted to give them back to you sooner but things just kept happening and I couldn’t get a moment alone with you without someone stopping me. The timing never worked out right, I guess. But I wanted to get them back to you now.”

You drag your thumb over the front of the papers.

“These are my ticket to freedom,” you mutter.

“They’re pardon papers, aren’t they?” San asks, standing across from you. “Meant for you, I take it? I-Is – do you – do you want to return to the military then?”

“Absolutely not,” you deny in a heartbeat. Pulling your eyes up to meet San’s, you can’t keep a smile from overtaking your lips.

“O-Oh. I just – sorry, I just assumed that you want to be pardoned. Um… they – no, nevermind. It’s not important.” San shakes his head. The beginnings of a blush are crawling up his neck and cheeks. Without thinking twice, you reach forward and pull San into a tight hug. You squeeze him against your body, arms folded around his neck. The action catches San off guard for certain, and he flails a little before hugging you back albeit with a lot more hesitation. “You seem really happy,” he says against your ear. You unravel your arms from San and step back to look down at the bundle once more.

“They aren’t for me actually,” you admit. “They’re for someone important and special to me. I finally get to free him.”

“That’s a lot of effort for one person,” San murmurs through a melancholy smile.

“This one person is worth ten thousand. He’s worth any amount of effort in the universe. Thank you, San. I-I – you didn’t have to do that but you did.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t think too hard about it.” San heaves a deep sigh. “I’m just glad I could help in some way.”

“Well, you’ve helped me more than once now. I’m… I didn’t expect that from anyone aboard this ship.” San’s embarrassment melts away at your words. That cheeky smile returns to his lips, and he teases the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

“You could repay me then,” he suggests, sending a teasing wink your way. You blink back in confusion. “A kiss maybe?” You immediately roll your eyes at his remark, swinging an arm at his. He whines when you hit him, falling back as though you hit him with an insane amount of force. You steady him with the same arm and dip in before he can recover. You brush your lips over his cheek. He freezes under your touch within an instant. Red soars up his neck and cheeks.

“There. Maybe next time you can get one on the lips.”

✧✧✧

a/n: here we are at the end of act one!!! one down, fourteen to go 🤡 but anyways! what did you think of the conclusion to this arc? what’s been your fav part so far? your fav character? just tell me anything and everything! i love seeing your feedback and interaction with this story and i’m so excited to share more of it with you guys!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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yeah-klave · 4 years ago

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A Short History of What Happened - Chapter 4

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Catch up with the story so far: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Prompt: Omegas aren’t allowed to join the army, but then Omega!Klaus gets dropped into Vietnam and has to pose as a Beta. He manages quite well, right until he goes into heat. Alpha!Dave is protective and incredibly aroused/horny.

Genre: Omega verse, smut, developing relationships, slow burn, undercover, misunderstandings, secretly in love.

Word length: This chapter: 2.1k

Warning: Implied, canon-compliant abuse. The entire work, when posted, will contain explicit sexual content. (Also, my knowledge of the Vietnam war is almost non-existent. I’ve tried to keep historic/military references throughout this fic to a minimum, but I’ve had to take a few liberties in this chapter to provide the right context for this conversation. Please just roll with it.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

***************************************************************

Fate, that fickle mistress, dealt a blow the following morning.

The unit had been redeployed and were heading out to a new location that day. Most of their airborne unit were to be dropped in directly. A select few, however, were required to provide ground support to the convoy of trucks. Dave had been selected. And so, as it turned out, had Klaus.

Most of the men were to ride in the back of the trucks, ready, in case of an ambush.

Dave – less than enthusiastic at the thought of several hours caged up in a hot, metal tube – had offered to act as rear guard and follow the convoy on foot as it made its way through the marshy, inhospitable landscape.

He had already turned to begin checking his pack, when he heard a light, musical voice volunteer to join him. Head bowed, large, strong hands pausing in their methodical inspection of his rifle clips, Dave felt a physical thrill run through his entire body, a tingling jolt that started in his stomach, then radiated out to his fingers and toes and the tips of his hair.

As the trucks began their slow progress, Dave took his position next to the small man in the borrowed clothes. Keeping a reasonable distance from the convoy, they began their hike.

Dave focussed hard. He tried desperately to keep his mind clear of the intoxicating scent and not let himself become distracted by the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He held his gun at the ready and kept his eyes on the landscape around them, vigilant of the dangers.

Klaus was not as diligent. He held his gun loosely in his hands, as though it was a weight he was unused to carrying. In his peripheral vision, Dave noticed that Klaus looked around him with wide eyes, a look of curious wonder on his face that any significant amount of time in the field would surely have dampened to a resigned acceptance.

Dave took a deep breath, holding the conversational ball close to his chest for a final moment, before readying himself to take a swing and serve it into Klaus’ court.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he said quietly. A thwack of rubber against taught lattice strings. He kept his eyes forwards, watching the terrain and his words and the progress of the ball.

Klaus looked over at him. Dave shot a glance his way and Klaus immediately lowered his gaze, then looked up again shyly through his long, dark lashes.

“And why’s that?” he said, his voice light and breathy. He raised one eyebrow slightly, eyes twinkling and the corner of his mouth curling up into the beginning of a smile. Slowly, he parted his lips a fraction and gently bit his bottom lip. Dave could see the tiny, white press of pressure as Klaus’ teeth slowly dragged over the blood darkened skin. Still looking up into Dave’s face, Klaus opened his mouth a little more and gently ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.

Dave swallowed hard and snapped his eyes forwards again. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath that smelled like something sweet and musky and unfamiliar, and replied, “Well, out of all the units you could have stumbled into, you managed to pick the one made up entirely of betas.” He paused, then added as an afterthought. “Well, except me, of course.”

Dave heard Klaus give a snort and turned his head quickly to catch Klaus swotting at a mosquito.

“Shut up,” he said in an undertone, “he isn’t.”

Dave eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “Pardon?” he said.

Klaus bared his teeth, hissed and swotted again.

“Got it?” Dave asked.

“What?” Klaus said distractedly, looking back over at Dave. His brows were knitted together and he had a pained expression of concentration on his face. His eyes wandered over Dave’s shoulder.

“Fuck tests!” he said abruptly.

“Klaus?” Dave said, concerned, “are you okay?”

Klaus snapped his eyes back to Dave’s face. “Peachy,” he replied, but it still sounded a bit sad. Or sceptical.

“I think,” Klaus blurted suddenly, “I think you mean you’re lucky.” If those words were a creature, they would be something with a sting.

Dave frowned again, suddenly feeling as though there were more balls in play than he had originally thought.

Dave tracked the conversation back, then frowned deeper. “But… that’s… what I said.”

“No, no, no,” Klaus waved his hands in frustration. Dave’s eyes followed the movement of Klaus’ arms and the purple shadow of bruising that ringed his wrists. Dave’s stomach churned and he felt the prickle of anger take root in the base of his skull.

Klaus’ eyes were raking over Dave’s face. “No, you think you’re the lucky one.” He paused, then added with a little shrug. “All betas means no competition for you.” He paused and frowned, his nose scrunching adorably. “I mean,” he added, “no competition for me. Over me. Lucky old you.”

Dave could hear his heart pounded in his ears.

“So, big boy,” Klaus held Dave’s gaze, “which one of these trees are you going to pin me against while you wrap your hand around my throat and fuck me so hard I’ll barely be able to walk?”

The pounding in Dave’s ears turned to a roar. In a sickening rush he thought of bruises and bloody towels and wide, scared eyes and a fear so strong and deep he could smell it.

“Oh no,” he said firmly, “no, no. Just no. That’s not… I’m not like that.”

Crash. Bang. There it was. The slip of the tongue. The fork in the road. The miscommunication.

Klaus’ face had turned to stone. His expression was unreadable, but the air around them had soured. If Dave hadn’t been so preoccupied, he might have recognised it as the bitter smell of disappointment.

Dave ploughed on. “We’re not all aggressors, you know? Not all egocentric pricks who think the world owes us sex and submission.” He wasn’t sure Klaus was listening. His eyes had slipped over Dave’s shoulder again.

“Oh,” Klaus said in a small voice. “So, you’re just being kind to the queer, little omega freak out of the good of your heart, are you?”

Dave felt his stomach twist and a pang of guilt washed over him. Beautiful, he had thought. Heartbreakingly beautiful. This was going so wrong. So utterly, completely wrong.

“It’s,” he started. “I mean… Some of us are just decent, you know? We’re not all dicks. I mean, really, the primary role of an alpha is as protector and caregiver.”

Klaus snorted again. It smelled like sadness and derision and disbelief.

“Yeah,” he huffed under his breath. “Well, not in my experience.”

And Dave’s heart clenched again. Clenched for every bad thing that had ever happened to this man to make him react like that.

“I’m not like… that.” Dave said, slowly and clearly. Whatever, that was exactly. He just knew he wasn’t. He would never be the type of alpha who would make any omega scared or uncomfortable. Or worse. “I just want to help you,” he said simply.

Klaus turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, the scepticism thick in his voice.

“Really, really.” Dave said earnestly, holding Klaus’ gaze. He determinedly ignored the butterflies of desire in his stomach and resolutely refused to register the utterly enchanting shade of Klaus’ green eyes.

Klaus held his gaze for a moment longer, his brows furrowing slightly his questioning stare flicking between Dave’s eyes, as though trying to read something behind them.

“I don’t think I thanked you for the clothes before,” he said slowly.

Dave breathed a sigh. Of relief? He wasn’t sure. “No problem,” he said instead. “Although,” he added slowly, “I should probably ask you why you needed them.”

Klaus looked him straight in the eye and deadpanned, “Because all I was wearing was a towel.” He held Dave’s gaze. It felt like a test.

“Really,” Dave added composedly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Klaus’ face fell. Dave had thought that was the right answer, but at the sadness in Klaus’ eyes, he still felt like he had failed somehow.

Klaus took a resolute breath, then added with a straight face, “So used to following your nose, did you forget how your eyes worked?”

Klaus appraised him stonily for approximately three seconds before his face cracked into a small, lopsided grin. It still looked a little sad, but the tension broke between them.

“Very funny, smart ass.” Dave huffed, grinning back. He was definitely not thinking about how dazzling Klaus’ smile was. “Get in there quick with the big, dumb alpha jokes. Typist humour. Very witty.” But there was no bite to his words. They were like the roughhousing of an old, familiar, family dog – more fluff and licks than nips and barks.

“Sometimes you guys just walk straight into them,” Klaus smiled, giving Dave a quick wink. Dave’s stomach flipped over.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dave rolled his eyes, playing along, “that’s why they make us so big, right? Extra cushioning for when we’re so dumb we bump into things…?”

“You said it, not me!” Klaus giggled. Actually giggled. The butterflies in Dave’s stomach did a few somersaults.

Quite settled around them like a blanket. But it was comfortable silence. Warm and weighted. An old familiar blanket that got brought out, year after year, to chase away the bite of winter. The kind of blanket you wanted to keep in your life forever. A patchwork that only improved with age.

After a while, Dave turned back to Klaus. “So,” he ventured tentatively, “do you want to tell me why you were only wearing a towel?”

Klaus sighed deeply and looked down at his fingers which had started fiddling distractedly with the strap of his gun.

“That’s a long story,” he sighed, “and I’m not quite sure how to tell it.” He went quiet and Dave thought he might have lost him. Shut him down. Pushed him too far. Stupid, Dave thought. Just as he was starting to relax around you. You went and pushed too far, expected too much.

“Would it help if I tried to fill in the blanks a bit?” Dave asked gently. “You could just answer yes or no?”

He smelled the relief on Klaus before he saw it reflected in his eyes. Distantly, he wondered when his sense of smell had developed so much. He couldn’t remember ever being able to smell emotions as clearly or as strongly as this from any other omega. It must be because I haven’t been around omegas for so long, thought Dave. He must just smell extra strong to me now, or something, because of prolonged lack of exposure.

“Yeah,” Klaus croaked. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Dave took a deep breath and began. “Were you running away from someone?”

“Yes.” Klaus replied. Dave’s brain filled in the blanks, supplied a series of images of an amorphous ex.

“Were they hurting you?” he asked.

“Yes.” Klaus confirmed. An abusive amorphous ex. The images got progressively darker. The prickle of anger at the base of Dave’s skull grew teeth.

“Are they gone for good?” he asked.

Klaus swallowed. “No.” He paused for a long moment. “I don’t think so.” Another pause. “I don’t know.”

“Do they want you back?”

Klaus snorted. Ahead of them, one of the trucks revved its engine and Dave almost missed Klaus’ answer. But, under his breath, Dave though he heard Klaus mumble, “Nobody wants me.”

Dave could hear his heartbeat again. It was hammering a drumbeat rhythm in his ears. He was almost convinced Klaus must be able to hear it.

“Is here better than… anywhere else?” Dave paused. “Wherever else you have?”

Dave watched Klaus considering his question and weighing up his answer.

“I don’t know.” Klaus said eventually. “I mean… I am, what I am, where I am. But really… here, there, anywhere. It’s all the same really. I have about as much connection here as I would anywhere else.”

Dave nodded. A fresh start. He could understand that. He could understand that more than anyone.

“So,” he pitched his voice low and calm, his kept his eyes forwards, “do you want to stay?”

Dave could feel Klaus’ eyes on him, but he didn’t look over. He gave Klaus the space to study his face.

Finally, Klaus replied. “Yes,” he said simply, “Yes, I think that maybe I do.”

Dave tried to suppress a smile. He failed.

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Yeah-Klave Master List

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #tua #klaus x dave #klaus/dave

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neverendingstories00 · 4 years ago

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Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.2)

Summary: You meet the infamous Safin, who takes a strong liking to you. He invites you for dinner, and you refuse to go.

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: n/a

A/n: Hope you guys enjoy chappie two. I promise the pace is going to pick up very soon. ;-)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Opening your eyes, you grumble as your body shifts. Your head ached and your ankle burned. As your vision unblurred, you noticed the only light in the large dark room you resided in was coming from a fireplace. The small ambers danced around as the wood crackled underneath the fire. A blanket had been draped over you to protect you from the chill that surrounded the room. Everything seemed normal at first until it wasn’t. This room, the chill, everything was not normal. Your head hurt too much to think. Even if you had blackouted for hours, your memory refused to work. The clothes you were once in had changed. Instead of slacks and a sweater, you donned a bulky gray robe that was too big for your frame and smelt of expensive cologne. Noticing the sleeve kept falling off of your arm, you pushed it back up. The only thing that mattered to you right now was finding out what the hell was going on. As your arms attempted to push you back up, a silky and all too familiar voice spoke.

“Be careful, y/n. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself now.”

Gritting your teeth, you clenched your fists in pure anger. Nobody knew your real name. Working for M16 for the past four years, C had become your official name. Of course, it was Safin, it had to be. Thanks to him, you were responsible for possibly killing all of the double oh’s. Bond was right, Safin was a true sadist. His voice came from behind you. You knew he wanted your attention, but you weren’t going to give him what he wanted.

“You.” You fumed, looking at the fireplace. The logs had shifted, causing the fire to burn more violently and brighter. It represented your burning hate for the anarchist. The clicks of Safin’s boots became louder and louder. “Killed them...Overthrow the agents, then the analysts, the engineers..and eventually M.”

“Thanks to you, y/n. Without your help, I would have never been able to take the agents down.” Safin jested. He wanted to make you feel guilty for his actions. Try and turn you into something that you despise to be. “The double oh’s are down, and then everyone falls one by one. The oppressed will soon be free…”

The way your name curled off of Safin’s lips made your blood boil. You ignored his rambles and looked straight into the fire as your nails dug into the sofa. Ignoring Safin’s rambles about freedom from the government, you thought about Nomi and Bond. Bond had danced with death many times before. They could have jumped out of a window or hidden under rubble. It seemed too good to be true. You were an optimist or a pessimist, more in the middle. But knowing that the blood was on your hands, and it had been planned, sent chills down your spin.

Feeling a hand in your hair, it was none other than Safin.

His fingers combed through her [y/h/c], admiring how soft it felt. When whisking y/n away, she had looked more disheveled and panicked. It had been twenty-four hours since he had last seen you. The maids had tended to your wounds and cleaned you up. He had thought they had done a good job as they had made you look natural, yet still ever so gorgeous. Safin, being the “gentlemen” he was, wanted to you feel comfortable in the submarine pen, your new home. It was going to take time for someone such as y/n to adjust to a new lifestyle, but Safin wasn’t a man to give up so easily. He knew what state she was in and that she wasn’t going to attack him with her injury. Y/n was in Safin’s lair now, with nobody to come to save her. Her hair smelt like cherry blossoms and felt silkier than it usually was. You happened to be wearing one of Safin’s robes, which had been sliding off of your shoulder. Seeing you wear his clothes made his thoughts race. He wanted Y/n more than anything in the world. But even Safin, a feared anarchist, couldn’t simply force himself onto someone such as y/n. She were a guest in his house, not some toy for him to use.

All you could do is stand your ground and not let him bother you. After all, he was an anarchist, and agitating was something he knew he was good at. Of course, you weren’t the person to squeal or cry so easily.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n…” He cooed as he still played with your hair. The sleeve was becoming dangerously low on your shoulder. Safin felt his cock twitch at seeing such a stubborn and strong woman be so vulnerable. Not wanting you to be embarrassed, his hand grabbed the falling collar and raised it back up to your shoulder. He couldn’t see that you were burning red as his hand slowly finessed your skin. “Such a unique and graceful name…”

“It’s a common name, I’m nothing special.” You spit as you tried to scare him away. Y/n and Safin seemed like two different people. Safin was like a lost dog begging for attention. But Safin knew that they were similar in one way; you were both very determined people.

“I must be blind. You are a very special girl, y/n.” Safin explained. He walked beside the couch has your hair disappeared from his fingers and fell back down. It was too dark to see him, but you noticed the mask he had been wearing was off. You noticed the outline of a man walk in front of you, getting closer. “A trained Markswoman for the British Armed Forces. You spent years oversea and speak fluently in seven languages. Graduated top of your male peers and studied in Edinburgh with high honors. During your time in Siberia, your kill count was over a hundred men as you survived in the cold wilderness, alone. Even for all your kills, you were never awarded any medals of honor. Then, a cyrptographer for M16, bringing down organizations and stopping mass murder by decrypting a mere code. Or should I say was.”

“I don’t need to be saved, I can wipe that mask off of your hideous face.” You protest, refusing to look at him. “You want me to be afraid of you and think your some mighty god. All I see is a man cowering behind a mask.”

Safin grabbed your chin, making you look right at his face. Y/n protested, but Safin made sure he held her still. His index finger caressed her skin, noticing how soft and glossy it was. Your [y/e/c] shined as your thick eyebrows furrowed at him in disgust. It was too hard to decipher his face in the darkness. The hands that held your face were calloused and cold, the opposite of your skin.

“Your not wearing the mask...Step into the light.” You demand.

“No.” He replied. “You wouldn’t want to see me.”

“Didn’t you stalk me for months on end and won’t reveal your own face?” You chuckle at his face. This man was absolutely baffling. “Pathetic, I do say. I don’t care what you are, your still a sick monster.”

His grasp tightened as your chin, pulling you closer. ��Watch your mouth, my dear. You are still quite young. Putting on a facade hiding a scared, little girl. Admit your afraid of me. Say it.”

You catch a small glimpse of his eyes. There multichromatic, ranging in brown or green. Regardless, you won’t budge for Safin. It was entertaining to see him become slowly annoyed with how stubborn you were. “You know I live up to my stubbornness, Safin.”

Realizing how rough he was being with you, Safin loosened his grip on her jaw and moved backwards, his hand behind his back.

“A smart, but foolish girl. I thought M16 had nothing to offer until I saw you. You were more essential than Bond ever was, you could never see it. A history of military experience and language, you were the perfect woman for the job. Bringing down whomever M16 saw as a threat, following there orders like a foolish slave. Too foolish to see through the lies of old men. Too foolish to see right through a trap and lead thousands of spies to there downfall..” Safin enunciated. “It is truly there lost. SPECTRE couldn’t get your hands on you, there just as underhanded as M16. So I claimed you.”

“I am not a toy.” Pushing yourself from a chair, you limp forward (despite the pain). “You want me because I can help you? I will never help someone such as yourself. Try all you want, but I won’t fall.”

Safin chuckled as he walked up to you, looking down at your furrowed eyebrows and pouted lip. It was so adorable to see you upset. “Y/n, I told you it was going to be an adjustment. You would say mindless things such as this. But I assure you with time, you will learn your place here. You will come to respect me and learn to l-”

“I will never to support someone such as yourself. I rather have you kill me than have to waste my breath on you.” You say. “Oh right, you keep saying your going to hurt me, but you never do. Stop saying it and actually do it, Safin.”

You were only a few inches away from his face as your eyes burned into him. Just because he was trying to bring you down with him didn’t mean you were going to fall so easily. From being held at gunpoint to nearly sold to a terrorist organization, Safin was just like all of them. He implanted fear into thousands just for his pleasure. The Anarchist walked past you, brushing his shoulder against you.

“You will join me for dinner at six o clock.” He demanded, sounding annoyed as he walked towards the door. “And that is not a request.”

Hearing the door slam shut, all your body can do is fall to the floor and cry into a pillow. You acted stern on the outside, but when alone you broke down. It’s not that you were scared of Safin but simply desired to go home. Because of your actions, you had started M16’s downfall. All because of a little cyprotrgapher falling into an anarchist’s trap. Sitting in front of the fire, you curled into a ball and held in your sobs as warm tears sped down your cheeks. For however long you were to stay in Safin’s lair, you were not going to give him the satisfaction he desired from you.

Y/n was not going to join Safin for dinner.

-----

“Where is she?” Safin groaned as he paced around the dining hall. The maids had arranged for an intimate dinner set up deep in the gardens. There was a low rise wooden table with two cushions with lit wax candles and bushes surrounding you. The table had all kinds of tea and an array of foods that Safin knew y/n enjoyed (from stalking).

Serrano noticed Safin’s obsession with y/n. He saw it grow day by day. Even if he was his closest ally, Serrano knew not to ever question Safin’s motives. Not only had Safin stalked her work, but her personal life. He knew she had enjoyed certain types of tea, loved candles, and all types of plants. It seemed over the top, but that was Safin. Serrano had guessed Sadin was trying to win y/n to work for him and nothing more.

“The girl might need help, since her leg…” Serrano said to Safin. Safin looked at him, displeased.

“One of your foolish men had shot her.” He replied. Noticing a few strands of black hair fall into his face, Safin smoothed them out. Serrano was probably right; you most likely needed help walking to dinner. He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t help you to dinner. One of his henchmen came into the room. Safin turned around, praying for it to be you. To see the way his robe fit onto her body; the large gray sleeve slowly falling from your shoulder, but it wasn’t.

“Go fetch Y/n for dinner, please.” He requested. The soldier nodded and went to your quarters to pick you up. Twenty minutes later, the same soldier returned with a bloody nose.

Serrano and Safin had both noticed. The solider’s nose was dripping with blood.

“What happened?” Serrano asked.

“That little bitch-she fucking kicked me!” The soldier heaved. “She told me to fuck off, so I went into her room to drag her down, and then she bloody puts her foot in my face. That woman picked a fuckin’ fight. Just as I grabbed her, she kicked me in my balls. Told me that she won’t be coming to dinner and told me to tell for you to fuck off. ”

Safin furrowed her eyebrows not only in shock but anger. “You wanted to drag her to dinner?”

The soldier nodded, wiping his nose. “I only did as I co-”

“Once again, the INCOMPETENCE with you soldiers!” He boomed. No wonder Y/n didn’t want to come, this solider had tried to drag her out of her room. For someone who was injured, Safin was shocked you managed to attack them. “That woman had every right to hit you. All of you treat my guest, my y/n, as a prisoner. It’s ridiculous.”

Serrano tried to stop him, but Safin stormed out of the room to your chambers. He knew it was going to be a challenge to get you to come, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily on someone such as yourself. No matter how much he stalked, there was something so intriguing about y/n to him. Out of all of the women he’s worked with throughout the years, she stuck out. He remembers first seeing you a year ago with Bond in Greece. A fellow ally of Safin planned to blow up the Acropolis Museum as a political statement to the president of Greece. Safin had aided him with men who successfully killed the president as Athens slowly unfolded into civil unrest. The spy agency in Greece had called upon M16 to aid them in killing the men who were responsible for the assassination. It was a mission and she and a few desk agents had flown out to help the double oh’s. Instead of Bond saving the day as he usually would, it was Y/n that did. Seeing her slide over cars in her short polka dot dress and jump across rooftops, you had singlehandedly shot and killed the bomber. He remembers your hair being in a loose ponytail, held up by a small, scarlet ribbon. Not only did you kill him, but Q and you had dismantled a nuclear bomb that was meant to wipe out half of Athens. M and Bond wanted y/n as a field agent, but she always turned it down, more comfortable with being an introverted cyrotpotgether. Upon seeing y/n, Safin knew he had to make her his. Not only as she talented and smart, but striking to the eyes of many. Seeing Bond playfully flirt with you drove Safin mad, but you could shrug it off as nothing more. The only piece of you Safin had of y/n was the sweet-smelling ribbon, but having you in his lair and touching your skin gave him his serotonin. Whatever it took to win y/n over, Safin was willing to go to the full length.

Instead of being uncivilized, Safin decided to have a more civil approach with y/n, even if on the inside he was annoyed and pissy. Approaching y/n’s door, he knocked. “Y/n? I-”

“Fuck.Off.” You spit, curled by the fire.

Safin clenched a fist. He was expecting you to say something vulgar, but he had to keep his temper down to not scare you. “I’ve been patient with you, my dear. You can’t stay in there forever.”

“If I can survive in the Siberian wilderness for a month then I’ll be more than happy to isolate myself in this little shithole.” You snap back. Safin was like all of the other men you had dealt with other the years. They tried to intimidate you because of there gender, but you weren’t one to be bossed around.

Serrano and some of the soldiers decided to eavesdrop from the corner, seeing Safin become visibly angry. His fists were clenched as he huffed, trying to keep his composure around the stubborn cryptographer. “You don’t want to see me mad.”

Hearing this statement, a snark chuckle escaped your lips. If Safin was trying to scare you than he was simply failing at it. “Mad? Oh please. Your a small, cowardly man who hides behind a mask. Instead of going into the public, you sit in your lair and corrupt mindless protestors into doing your dirty work for you. All you are is bronze, no brain. Out of all the people you decide to kidnap, you kidnap me, a cryptographer? Not the infamous Bond or even a double oh? Oh right, how could I forget! Your men are such imbeciles that they can barley follow basic orders, so you decide to kidnap the weakest target for a bargaining chip. No matter how much you bribe or interrogate me, I won’t go down without a fight with a coward.”

Safin could hear his men eavesdropping him. The “oh’s” and chuckles that came from his mouth made his blood boil. No one had ever talked back to Safin before, fearing him. But y/n was different, teasing and humiliating him. Who did y/n think she was? If she had been a soldier, Safin would have killed her right on spot. But no matter how tempting, he couldn’t hurt her. Safin was so close to you, yet so far. In frustration, Safin grabbed an ancient Japanese vase and threw it to the ground. It cracked all over the ground, sending small pieces into Safin’s fingers.

Hearing his grunt and the shatter of the base, you jumped in place. That was the most violence and emotion you had seen come out of that man. Regardless, you weren’t afraid of Safin. It was ridiculous that he was having a little temper tantrum because you didn’t give him what he wanted. Safin was a spoiled child or a spoiled man for the matter.

Safin saw what he was becoming; a monster. He was one, but for y/n, he had be a gentlemen. Knocking gently on the door, he growled. “Will you join me?”

“No!”

“Will you join me, please?”

“No thank you!”

“COME OUT HERE THIS INSTANT!” Safin bombed, slamming his fist against the door.

You roll your eyes, yelling back. “I WON’T! YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

Safin had enough of y/n’s stubbornness. Kicking the door open, he stormed over to you and grabbed your wrist. A small yelp escaped from your lips, trying to back away, but his grip held you down.

“You are HERE, in MY lair, and YOU are going to listen to ME and be MINE.” He orders as his grasp on your wrist tightened. You hiss in his face as you place your hand on his chest to push him back.

“Like I said.” You hiss, getting right into his face. Just like Safin, you were furious. His little temper tantrum was ridiculous. “I will NEVER listen to your commands.”

Safin didn't respond to y/n, but looks into her [y/e/c]. They were big as the fire glistened inside of them. A few pieces of [y/h/c] hair had fallen into her face as her breathing was heavy. She wasn’t controlled and content, but frantic and shaky. Being close to her oddly calmed the anarchist down. His grip on her softened as he let go of you, turning down to think. Then it hit him.

“[Y/m/n] and you look eerily similar..” He calmly explained, walking around your chambers.

Your mother’s name had come out of his mouth. The woman that you cared about the most was mentioned by that monster. A small gasp escapes your mouth as you feel your heart drop. “Leave her out of this.”

“Same hair and same eyes. She is the older version of you, still beautiful even after years of so much loss..” He maintained his dominance, trying to aggravate you into submission. “On the other hand, your sister…[y/s/m] looks more like your dead father..”

“M16 knows.” You stutter, trying to stay strong. Your strong facade began to break. Your emotional side stayed contained, even on top missions. But in Safin’s lair, it felt different. Not even enemies you had faced in the past would mention your family. “If you hurt my mother or [y/s/n], they’ll put you and your men six feet u-”

“Uup,” He spun on his heel, making direct eye contact with you. Y/n’s emotions, her true weakness, were breaking out. He could see your tears prick with tears as your hands shook. “M16 won’t be there to save you, your mother, or your little sister.”

Walking over to you, he leaned into your ear, cooing, “Because their greatest warrior was there greatest downfall. That warrior is you, my sweet.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you bit your lip. Your mother and sister were the only people that were left in your life. They had supported you through years of therapy and discharge from the military. Safin didn’t scare you until he had mentioned them and M16. You didn’t like that he was painfully right. Because of a dumb girl, yourself, M16 was crumbling to pieces.

Safin looked over at you and saw your melancholic (and afraid) face. A sympathetic sigh came from his lips as he walked over, wiping a falling cheek from your week. “Don’t cry, my little dove. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

You felt strong arms wrap around your lower back and hair. Safin pulled y/n close, stroking her [y/h/c]. Her shaking was quite obvious as tears stained his vest. Y/n try to squirm out of his hold, but Safin needed to enjoy this moment. After waiting for so long, he could no longer hold back. Y/n was finally in his arms. Those long nights of looking at her old military photos or the red ribbon were over. Y/n was no longer a fantasy, but a reality. He hated seeing her so shaken and upset. The poor girl’s shaking had calmed down. It was best if Safin had left her alone, for now at least.

Releasing her from the hug, Safin patted her shoulders as y/n looked down. His fingers traced under her cheek, tilting y/n’s head up towards Safin. No longer was she her fiery self, but a scared little girl. Her lips quivered as spare tears fell from her face. Months of stalking, Safin knew that one of her many weaknesses was her own family. She had lost so much over the years and losing them would be her tipping point. Safin was cruel, but not to his y/n.

“Over time, you will adjust over time. One day, you will see,” He cooed, moving small strands to clearly see your face. His hand rested on your cheek as his thumb caressed your soft skin. “All of there ignorance. I saved you from them for a reason. When I eradicate tyranny, you will be grateful.”

You saw his face more clearly in the fire. From a distance, his skin looked olive bronzed and normal. But up close, it was different. It was burned and scarred, the man was horribly disfigured. No wonder he wore a mask, to conceal his identity and frightening face. Safin looked like the monster in a child’s nightmare, in which he was. He stood up and walked to the door, acting as if he hadn’t threatened to kill your family if you didn’t do as he pleased.

“Oh, and y/n,” He stated, turning to you. “Get some rest please, you look very debilitated. The maids are near if you request anything. Good night, my dear.”

Gently shutting the door, Safin stayed in front of it. He heard y/n’s concealed cries. His hand wanted to knock and comfort her, but he knew that she truly didn’t want to see him. It pained him to see you upset, but he was confident you would overcome it, work with him, and possibly love him. Safin yearned for the touch of a woman who truly desired him. He knew he couldn’t force a woman to love him no matter how much he desired her. For who could ever love someone such as himself?

You saw his footsteps under the door. He thankfully began to walk away. When you heard his footsteps out of hearing distance, a loud cry escaped your mouth. You tried to stay strong, but you were slowly breaking apart. Within the past forty eight hours, your life had been turned upside. Now you were a prisoner of Safin for his sick, twisted reasons. Did he want you to work for him or did he want your body? Or both? It was all too much to handle. Safin was a wildcard. The way he held you close, played with your hair, grabbed you all pulled at your heartstrings. His deep and oddly soothing voice telling you that M16’s downfall was your fault, in which it was. The pain of not knowing the agents you were meant to keep alive’s fates made your eyes prick with tears. Safin’s plan had truly worked.

The bedroom Safin had placed you in was lavish, yet dismal. It was large with two connecting rooms. The room you were in was full of books, candles, plants, and a couch that stared at a fireplace. The other room led to a large-sized bed and a bathroom that was bigger than your tiny flat. Safin was trying to impress you with materialistic gifts, but you thought of it as an undesirable hellhole. The robe you wore was too big and chunky for you. Walking into the other room, you threw the robe off and dived into the large-sized bed. It looked too neat to be comfortable, but upon laying on it, it sucked you in. Throwing a blanket onto your exposed body, you buried your face into the nearest pillow and cried. Cried not because you were stuck with the monster known as Safin, but knowing that you were the reason millions were going to die. All because of an arrogant, stubborn girl.

#rami malek x reader #safin x reader #safin #no time to die #james bond #rami malek #rami malek headcanons #my writing

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theotherackerman · 3 years ago

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES:

Saturday, January 16th

chapter seventeen: taught me some hard lessons

Levi had always held a certain disdain for the Reiss family.

They were not the only ones in town with money.

In fact, Levi was sure, as the only living male Ackerman, he currently had more than the Reiss family.

Unlike the Reiss family who had dropped all their money into a company, the Ackermans had invested.

How many bank accounts were out there in his name?

Not to mention the money from Kenny alone for doing all of Rod’s dirty work.

Levi hated the Reiss family.

He blamed Fritz Pharmaceuticals for his mother’s death, blamed Kenny too.

How had Kenny work for a company that made medicine and let his own little sister die?

Levi had been eleven when he had come to live with Kenny, when Kuchel died.

That began his down spiral.

Because why had his mother who had done nothing but good have to die?

Why did she have to suffer with kidney failure and liver failure?

Why was he so fucking powerless to watch her in a hospital bed while machines beeped?

Why didn’t Kenny save her?

If Uri was so good of a boss, why didn’t Kenny just ask him to fix it?

Why did none of this matter?

Levi was angry.

That anger fueled Levi for a very long time.

He created his path.

He’d get into fights.

He’d get suspended.

He’d ended up in a jail a few times.

No one dared to expel or press charges against him. He was Kenny Ackerman’s ward. One didn’t mess with Kenny unless you wanted a very unpleasant visit.

A lawyer.

What a joke that was.

Sure, Kenny had the degree and on paper he was Fritz Pharmaceuticals' lead member of their legal team.

But everyone knew the truth.

If money couldn’t buy silence, Kenny had other ways of persuading someone.

Eventually, Levi’s hate for the company sizzled. He had joined the military, leaving those feelings behind.

Or so he thought.

Levi stood on the balcony outside his room in the cold night air. He hadn’t been able to sleep despite trying over and over.

He had seen how Mikasa had been.

He knew Mikasa would never say how much it bothered her to lose her songs. He knew she would pretend like it didn’t because her love for Historia outweighed her love for her music.

Mikasa reminded him of his mother.

That undying love of other people.

Maybe that’s why he loved Mikasa so much. That kid had changed everything for him. It would never be enough that when he left this world, he’d be leaving her all of the Ackerman fortune.

Some things she didn’t even know about like the money she’d get when she’d turn twenty five or when she got married. How much he had squirreled away into accounts, stocks, and bonds all in her name. He didn’t want her to have to worry about money or anything else ever in her life.

Sure, Levi could set up an anonymous buyer and try to buy the songs back. It would be awfully suspicious though. He knew out of spite Rod wouldn’t sell.

Besides, someone needed to teach that man a lesson. Levi walked back into his room and closed the doors to the balcony.

Sawney and Bean were sound asleep on his king size bed.

Levi sighed as he walked over to the wall that held a large painting that his mother had painted.

He pulled it down, a safe behind it. He put in the code.

Inside, sat the box that Eren had sent Mikasa along with the letter Levi had found on the floor.

Along with it sat several thick file folders. Levi pinched his nose before he sighed again.

This was going to open a can of worms that could not be shut back.

He flipped through the folders until he found the one he was looking for.

D.F. was written in Kenny’s handwriting.

He flipped through the folder even though he knew the contents.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He tossed the folder back into the safe and closed the safe.

He gently hung his mother’s painting back on the wall to cover it.

Was he doing the right thing?

He always told Mikasa to do the thing she regretted least.

Maybe he should take his own advice.

He pulled his phone out and made a call. He wasn’t expecting the other person to answer so it did not surprise him when they did.

“You said to give you a call if I had any information on your mom. Well, I do. I don't know what your plan is exactly but I’m in. You’re going to ask what’s changed because you’ve always got to prod into my brain. It’s simple. He fucked with my kids.”

Levi simply ended the call after that.

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

Sasha had woken the entire house up.

“I made pancakes!” She called and suddenly the kitchen was swarmed with people. Levi had already been sitting at the table with Sawney and Bean. Sasha brought two tiny plates over for the dogs that had tiny pancakes on them. The dogs quickly gobbled them up.

“Sasha, have I ever told you how much I love you?” Ymir asked before taking another bite of her pancake.

“Rarely,” Sasha snorted.

“Well, I love you or maybe I just love you’re cooking.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Ymir.”

Mikasa placed a cup of peppermint tea in front of Annie.

“Thank you,” Annie said before taking a drink.

Mikasa shrugged, “sure.”

Sasha was still busy flipping pancakes.

“Hey, when that’s finished, just bring it over to my plate over here,” Ymir laughed.

There was a knock on the door.

“I swear if that’s another letter…” Levi said before standing up.

They heard the door open and a very familiar voice filled the house.

“And that’s how my key broke,” Hange said as they entered the kitchen.

“We’ll get another copy today,” Levi sighed as he sunk down into his chair.

Sawney and Bean immediately began running and jumping around Hange’s legs.

“I missed you two! Have you been good?” Hange asked as they kneeled down and petted both of them.

“Hey Hange, did you hear what Dad got us?” Ymir smirked.

“I’m not your father,” Levi mumbled.

“The recording equipment? I did. Thanks for finding those bugs. They will be great for my entomology class,” Hange said before sitting at the table.

“You want any pancakes, Hange? There’s plenty,” Sasha asked as she put more down on Ymir’s plate.

“Sure! Thank you, Sasha,” Hange said as they sat down on the other side of Levi.

Sawney and Bean began chasing each other through the house.

“Were any of those bugs...you know…..alive?” Ymir grimaced.

“Oh no! They are specimen jars. Not alive at all. Very useful in class. Armin isn’t even in that class this year but I couldn’t pass up on showing him the pictures Levi sent me. He found them just as interesting as I did.”

“Wish you would have been here when we found them,” Ymir muttered before eating.

“If you find any more, let me know,” Hange smiled before Sasha sat down a fresh plate of pancakes down in front of Hange. “Thank you, Sasha,” Hange smiled.

“With Kenny, that’s possible,” Levi muttered.

“I thought you said you got rid of all of them!” Ymir exclaimed.

“I did and then you found more,” Levi replied before he took a drink of coffee.

Ymir groaned.

There was another knock on the door. Levi sighed as he got up.

“Sorry,” Armin said as he came into the house.

“Armin!” The group in the kitchen shouted.

The removing of shoes could be heard before Armin appeared in the kitchen.

“Hi, sorry. I had to talk to Moblit. We’re corradating so I can be Hange’s assistant starting this summer,” Armin said as he sat down on the other side of Hange. “Means more money for the baby,” he smiled at Annie.

“Yeah?” Annie beamed at him.

“And I’m staying until Monday afternoon so I can go to the doctor with you on Monday.”

“Good, then you can move what little shit you have left here into Annie’s room,” Levi remarked.

“Why?” Armin asked, confused.

“We’re gonna need room.”

“For what?” Mikasa asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe the baby that’s coming. Plus, if I’m hiring contracts in here to put up walls in the basement, I might as well have them paint the baby room ahead of time.”

Annie was not a very touchy person sometimes.

She didn’t like public displays of affection.

However, this one time, she stood up from her chair and ran over to Levi. She hugged him and Levi just froze.

He finally patted her on the back.

She let go and returned to her seat.

“Thank you,” Annie mumbled as she sat down.

Levi waved his hand in the air, “anyway, they'll need soundproof down in the basement too. This recording equipment picks up everything so once you all get it cleaned out, I’ll give them a call.”

“Quick question, who is going to run the recording stuff?” Ymir asked.

“Me,” Levi replied before taking another drink of coffee.

“Yes!” Sasha yelled. “We finally got Levi to do something with us!”

“Hange, did you see the selfie he took with us last night?” Historia asked as she picked up her phone.

Levi groaned.

“I didn’t!”

Historia held the phone up and Hange’s smile grew.

“That’s such a great photo! Why aren’t you smiling? We should print it out and hang it over the fireplace!”

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

Over an hour away, Zeke Jaeger’s house was having a very difficult morning.

Practice for The Restorationists had not been going very well as of late.

Floch had always been one to cause conflict.

I n fact, Zeke wasn’t sure why Eren had asked Floch to be in the band. He wasn’t an extraordinary bassist. He was just okay. Half the time Floch picked fights with Niccolo and Floch only listened to Zeke half the time.

Today was a very important rehearsal for The Restorationists. This was a song that was very important to Eren.

However, Floch seemed to be six notes a head of everyone else.

Niccolo was losing his patience and Eren couldn’t blame him.

“You’re way too fast on that part,” Niccolo said before throwing his drumstick at Floch.

“Ow! Stop throwing those things at me!” Floch picked up the drumstick and threw it back at Niccolo.

“Then play on beat!”

“How about you keep a steady beat?”

“How about you suck my…”

“STOP IT!” Zeke yelled. He had become fed up with the fighting. He felt like he was dealing with preschoolers. It was supposed to be a relaxing hobby with his brother but right now, it was making Zeke want to pull his hair out. Eren looked up at the ceiling of Zeke’s living room. This was getting old.

“You two need to get your shit together. Floch, Niccolo is right. You’re too fast. Niccolo, don’t throw your drumsticks at Floch. Throw the cymbal next time,” Zeke said.

Niccolo laughed.

“Not cool, Zeke,” Floch responded.

“You know Pieck can play bass too,” Zeke suggested before he took off his guitar and sat it down on the stand.

“You’re going to replace me with Pieck? Really? After all we’ve been through?”

“Stop whining,” Eren finally spoke up. “It’s getting old. Practice outside of our practices. Besides, this song isn’t about you, Floch.”

“Oh no, right. It’s about Mikasa. Like every other fucking song we play is about her. What’s so magical about her? Sex that good? She got a golden…”

Floch didn’t get to continue as Eren punched Floch right in the jaw.

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that again!” Eren yelled as he pinned Floch to the ground.

Zeke grabbed Eren by the waist and pulled him off of Floch.

Floch thought this was a good idea to take a sucker punch at Eren.

Zeke let Eren go but before either Eren or Zeke could do anything, Niccolo gave Floch a swift kick to the groin.

Floch fell to the ground.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Niccolo smirked.

“When you can stand, get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back,” Zeke ordered. “I’ll get you something for your face, Eren.”

Zeke disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared with an ice pack for Eren’s face.

Eren and Zeke sat on the large couch that had originally been in Grisha’s basement. Niccolo sat down on the loveseat across from it.

Floch stayed on the floor for a bit before he got up. He angrily put his bass into the case and then stormed out of the house. He slammed the door behind him.

“He did not just slam my door,” Zeke said as he stood up from the couch. He walked over to the front door. “Hey asshole! This door costed more than you fucking car! Don’t slam shit that’s not yours! You could have broken the glass in it!”

“It’s probably good that your brother lives in the middle of nowhere.” Zeke heard Niccolo say as he went out the door.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eren replied as Zeke closed the door.

Floch scrambled to his car.

"You are out of the band, you fucker!" Zeke screamed at Floch.

Floch got in his car and drove away.

Zeke sighed as he pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket.

Just as he had lit the cigarette, his phone began to go off.

PIECK FINGER showed up on the scene. Zeke sighed again as he answered.

“How is your morning going? Because I just had a brawl in my living room,” Zeke replied.

“Not nearly that exciting. What happened?” Pieck’s voice rang out.

“Floch was being a fucking asshole. Eren punched him, then I stopped him from really hurting Floch. Then Floch sucker punched him so Niccolo kicked him in the groin. Then the bastard had the nerve to slam my front door. I could have fucking killed him.”

“There is a lake outside your house...but it might be suspicious.”

“So I have no bassist currently.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me to begin with.”

“Because you are always busy. Between the galas and your photography. Not to mention the art commissions you have been recently taking on.”

“Can we not talk about galas right now?”

“Why? Did you not meet your latest lover at one?”

“Ugh! Do not call him that.”

“You still owe me details about how that whole situation came to be. Oh. I got a voicemail from Levi this morning. It was about my mother. I am heading over there to pick up the information.”

“What? I thought he said he didn’t have any.”

“I knew he did. There was no way Kenny Ackerman would not have information on my mother.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

“I will. I will call you when I get back.”

“Okay. Talk to you then,” Pieck replied before she hung up.

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

Eren removed the ice pack from his face. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing too bad. Just red. Does it hurt?”

Eren shook his head, “I’ve had a lot worse but I’m not going to argue with Zeke about putting ice on it.”

“Yeah, I won’t either,” Niccolo laughed.

Zeke calmly reentered the house and shut the door behind him.

“So do we have a body to hide now?” Eren asked.

“No, I just kicked him out of the band. He was shit anyway. Then I smoked as I talked to Pieck. I have to go to Levi’s today. You’re coming with me,” Zeke said before he grabbed his coat off of the coat rack.

“Why do you have to see Levi?” Eren was confused. He didn’t even know Zeke and Levi ever really talked.

“Stuff,” was all Zeke replied.

“Can I tag along too? Sasha lives there too and we haven’t got to hang out much,” Niccolo asked.

“Sure,” Zeke shrugged.

“Okay, but what stuff?” Eren asked as he stood up and grabbed his coat off of the rack.

“I’ll explain once we get there,” Zeke replied as he walked back towards the front door.

Eren looked over at Niccolo who just shrugged as Niccolo grabbed his coat.

They made their way over to Zeke’s car before heading off in the direction towards Levi’s house.

#mmtylif #my writing

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velkynkarma · 5 years ago

Note

merry april fools day! what about a whump fic where Allura and Coran end up taking care of a bundle of sick humans in their paladins (plus whichever else of the humans are present on the Castle at the time)

You got it! This exists in a miraculous AU where Shiro didn’t die/disappear into the void, Keith still stays at the Castle, and the Castle still exists, because I Can. Also Kosmo is here for some reason, even though it doesn’t technically line up with any timeline. It’s silly sickfic, who cares about timelines, amirite?

———

Allura stares down at the box of recipe cards in her hands and wonders, not for the first time, how she got into this mess.

Well, she knows how, in the broad sense, at least. The team had liberated another planet to join the Voltron Coalition, and had taken part in a wonderful celebration the Kazenites had thrown in thanks. It had been a very nice party, actually. The food was positively divine, and the entertainment had been enjoyable. There had even been a parade, which had cheered Lance in particular immensely. Everyone had fun.

But the next day, everyone—well, almost everyone—had been bedridden, complaining of illness. And the symptoms were positively disgusting. Elevated temperature, mucus-filled noses that made breathing difficult, aches and soreness all over, harsh, wet coughs, and the...expunging of their innards.

The discovery had been frankly revolting.

But Allura was fine. Even Coran, who was an older Altean gentleman, and more prone to some illnesses, remained equally unaffected. They aren’t sure what the cause is—food that humans couldn’t handle, or perhaps a local pathogen on Kazenar—but it seemed only those from Earth had been affected.

It at least meant they weren’t helpless. Allura could wormhole them away if they ran into significant Galra opposition, or handle a smaller force with Coran’s assistance, between the Castle and the Blue Lions. But it did leave the two of them with five humans to care for—a daunting prospect at the best of times.

“Chicken soup,” she murmurs, repeating the phrase Hunk had given her. “Chicken soup…” She frowns. “What exactly is a chicken, and why would one make soup out of it?”

She wonders if it’s anything like the ‘cow,’ Kaltenecker. Perhaps they extract a liquid substance from these ‘chickens’ to consume as a health food.

The thought alone makes her feel sick to her stomach. She certainly hopes she won’t need to extract chicken-liquid. She will do it for her friends, if she absolutely must, but she does not look forward to the prospect.

It truly is a pity that whatever this illness is, is resistant to both her healing abilities learned through alchemy, and the healing pods. Those were the first things they’d tried, when they’d realized the situation was serious.

Unfortunately, the box of recipe cards Hunk had directed her to yields no answers. She had found the box in the kitchen easily enough. But the handwriting on each of the cards, presumably belonging to Hunk, is in a language she doesn’t recognize. She assumes this is some variant of Earthese, but she’s not familiar enough with the characters to be able to decode any of it.

She sighs in frustration, and sets the box on the counter, staring at the cards. Sadly, willing them to become legible doesn’t change anything.

“Why must it be chicken soup?” she mutters. “And why me?”

Well...she knows the answers to those questions too, really. Coran had already tried to make a big batch of terskargal for the paladins, the moment he and Allura had discovered they were all sick. The scent brought back fond memories of old dinners, cozy mornings indoors during the cool season on Altea, and moments of comfort when she had been sick ten thousand years ago.

Unfortunately, the humans had not taken to it so kindly. Shiro had reacted the most politely, in that he had simply said, “No thank you, really,” but his face had turned an interesting shade of green that Allura hadn’t thought non-camouflage based humans capable of. Lance and Pidge had been forced to suppress gags that had threatened to bring up whatever else might be in their stomachs. Hunk had thrown up, and asked why one would ever feed something that smelled so revolting to an ill person. Keith, by far the least affected of the group, had still threatened to throw his bowlful of terskargal out the nearest airlock.

Needless to say, it had not gone over well for a number of reasons. Allura is a little offended that something so comforting to her and her culture could be rejected so blatantly out of hand. But then again, they do also drink cow secretion and think it is delicious. Human taste simply cannot be accounted for.

But it did mean the humans blatantly refused to eat anything prepared by Coran, and they did need nutrients while they were ill. Which meant Allura had been recruited for cooking some variant of human food, in addition to her other caretaking tasks. Coran had instead adjusted to laundering fresh bedding for the humans, and working in the infirmary to synthesize a medicinal cure their bodies could actually process safely.

There is just one problem: Allura is not a terribly skilled cook.

In her defense, cooking was never considered to be a necessary skill-set for an Altean princess. By her tutors’ own words, she had excelled in acceptable subjects—history, military tactics, diplomacy, dance, crystal engineering, etiquette, piloting, energy manipulation, and advanced weapons training in multiple disciplines. Cooking had never been one of those important duties. As a princess, she was expected to have cooks for that.

Still, her friends are sickly, and she would like them to feel better. Sometimes, that means learning something new to heal, even if it is a monumental or difficult task. She will attempt to make this chicken soup, or die trying.

Even if it does mean milking a chicken.

She shudders.

She’ll have to interpret the cards, though, before she can do anything. Pidge had a working knowledge of both the Earth language and Altean. But Pidge was also—if Plachu’s recent mental message was accurate—finally dozing after emptying the contents of her stomach into a bucket for the third time in the last varga. Allura doesn’t have the heart to wake her, not until she has some working chicken soup to offer.

So she does the next best thing, and heads to the lounge to bother Keith instead.

Of the five humans, Keith’s illness is comparatively minor. Which is to say that he’s not throwing up as often as the others, and can maintain a coherent conversation without spinning off into delirious ramblings or passing out. Allura suspects his Galra heritage is giving him some degree of resistance to the illness, whatever it is.

It means Keith has also been her and Coran’s on-call expert any time they need to ask a question about human physiology, or their requirements while ill. After the fifth time they’d knocked on his door to inquire about how much hydration was strictly necessary or which remedies were most common on Earth, he’d finally rolled out of bed and muttered, “I’m just gonna sleep on the couch in the lounge. Less walking for you.”

It had, admittedly, made things a little easier for her and Coran in the long run. So there was that.

Allura finds him in the same spot as before in the lounge, sprawled out lengthwise on one of the couches. Coran had supplied him with several extra pillows and blankets, along with the things they’d so far discovered were important for human health when ill: a pouch of water, and a metal basin for when they inevitably threw it up. Allura is thankful to see that the pouch of water is three-quarters gone, and the basin is completely empty. Cleaning those out is...not an entertaining process.

It’s hard to tell if Keith is awake or not, as his head is currently sandwiched between two pillows. A light blanket covers him. So does Kosmo, who is sprawled out at full cosmic wolf length along the couch, wedged against the couch back and half on top of Keith. His long muzzle rests on Keith’s chest and his nose is buried in what is presumably a comforting fashion in the crook of Keith’s neck, just under the edge of the topmost pillow.

Allura can’t even begin to imagine how any of that is comfortable, but to each their own, she supposes.

Kosmo’s ears flick up as she approaches, and the wolf’s gleaming yellow eyes roll to the side to watch her enter the room. “Is he awake?” she whispers.

Kosmo snuffs, and flicks one ear.

She’s not really sure what she expected, really. They’ve had enough evidence to indicate the cosmic wolf is at least as intelligent as the average human being, but communication is not one of his strengths.

She sighs, but approaches slowly and gently nudges Keith’s shoulder. A congested, muffled snort sounds under the pillow, and then one of Keith’s arms slowly raises to peel it back. He stares blearily at Allura. “What’s wrong now?” he mutters, after a long moment.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” she apologizes. “However, Hunk has instructed me to make chicken soup. I’m not sure how to go about doing so, as the cards with the instructions aren’t in Altean.” And then, before she can lose the nerve to ask, “It won’t require me to milk a chicken, will it?”

Keith stares at her blankly for so long that Allura is afraid he’s grown as ill as the others. She’s been reliably informed that when human body temperature surpases a certain level of internal heat, human brain function can become unreliable. She’s already witnessed it in a few instances and can attest that it’s real.

She’s about to feel Keith’s forehead—this is also, she’s been informed, a reliable way to measure human temperature without an instrument on hand—when he shakes his head. “No. No...milking chickens. Ew.”

That offers at least some relief. Allura lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Can you find the card for me?” Allura asks, offering him the box of recipe cards. “And translate it? I will do the rest.”

Keith grumbles under his breath, but dutifully starts to sit up after a moment. Kosmo helps by poofing off of his chest, and reappearing behind him, giving him a large cosmic wolf to help him sit upright against. “Alright. Fine.”

“Thank you,” Allura says gratefully. “I really did not wish to disturb your rest, but I did not see any other option.”

“S’fine,” Keith mutters, as he painstakingly opens the box of recipe cards, and starts flicking through them. It takes him longer than it should, which is a mark of the illness’ effect on him; Keith is normally quite dexterous and quick. The way he squints at each of the cards is certainly far from normal, too. “How’s everyone else doing?”

“Let me check.” Allura closes her eyes, and reaches out with her mental connection to her mice companions.

Keeping track of five human beings had proven a difficult task, especially with all of them ill to varying states, and with Allura and Coran required to perform multiple duties. To that end, Allura had come up with an alternative solution: assigning each of her mice friends to one of the paladins. With a mouse stationed in each room, the humans could be monitored consistently. If the mice thought there was a health concern, Allura could focus on that paladin immediately.

Keith was the exception, stationed in the lounge. But he had Kosmo, and Allura figured the cosmic wolf would be intelligent enough to hunt her or Coran down in the event his master took a turn for the worse.

The check in with the mice yields results fairly quickly. Chuchule reports Shiro sleeping fitfully and waking repeatedly from bad dreams. They will need to find something to settle him so he can actually begin to rest and recover.

Platt shares that Hunk is out of water again, which means Allura will need to stop by soon to replenish the fresh water packs. It is imperative the paladins stay as hydrated as possible or risk becoming sicker.

Chulatt is of the opinion that Lance’s temperature has risen, which has been a problem with their sharpshooter all day. Allura will need to prepare another cold compress to try and help bring his temperature down again.

Plachu reports no change from when Allura had checked in five doboshes ago. Pidge at least is thankfully still sleeping, although the basin she had been vomiting into will need to be cleaned out again. Allura can’t help but sigh.

Honestly. Human illness makes no sense. The slipperies make sense. Stomach parasites make sense. Quintessence weakness makes sense. Randomly becoming unable to breathe easily, overheating, and vomiting for this long, because of visiting a planet? Absurd.

“The same as before,” Allura says, as Keith stops slowly flicking through the cards to give her his best attempt at an inquisitive look. “After you find the card and translate it for me, I will bring them new supplies, and then begin cooking.”

Keith nods slowly, and goes back to his task.

It takes him about five doboshes, but towards the back of the box he finally selects one card and tugs it out. “This one,” he says, and reads out loud, “ ‘Mama Hunk’s Homemade Chicken Soup Recipe, space-ified.’”

“Excellent!” Allura claps her hands together once, and regrets it immediately when Keith winces at the noise. “I’m sorry, she says, contrite. “Please...just translate the instructions for me, and I will do the rest.”

She brings up a holographic screen linked to the Castle’s main database. Whatever she types up here she can easily reach back in the kitchen. She waits expectantly as Keith squints at the card, skimming it once.

“Ingredients’re listed first,” he says finally. “One cup of rice or rice equivalent—”

Allura’s heart immediately sinks. “Wait. What?”

Keith blinks at her, then slowly looks back to the card. “One cup of rice or—”

“No, no, I heard you,” Allura says, a little helpless. “But...a cup? As in, a drinking cup, full of a food item? And what is rice?”

Keith stares at her for a long moment. He blinks slowly, and Allura can almost hear his brain trying to process. Finally, he says, “This isn’t going to go as easy as you thought, huh.”

Humans. She is great friends with them, she respects them for their adaptability and survival skills and potential to learn and create so much.

But often, they simply make no sense.

———-

Allura is forced to take a detour from that poor attempt at decoding chicken soup to deal with her patients.

She makes her rounds with the paladins, dragging a hovering tray with her piled with supplies. She plies them with fresh water and herbal teas and little crackers and cajoles them to at least try them, checks everyone’s temperatures (higher than they should be, but not too dangerous), and cleans out the basins. The last is a truly vile task, but a princess should never expect her people to do something she wouldn’t do herself, no matter how abhorrent.

Some are better patients than others. Shiro wearily thanks her for her assistance and does his best to insist she doesn’t need to focus on him, which she politely disregards. Hunk is asleep by the time she arrives, somewhat thankfully, so he doesn’t have to hear what a debacle the chicken soup fiasco is. Pidge is mostly just happy to have the smell of her basin gone. Lance is possibly the worst; it takes Allura a full five doboshes to convince him to let her assist with a new cold compress and to measure his temperature, as he is, in his own words, “too ugly and gross to even look at right now.”

By the time that exhausting task is done and she returns to the kitchen, Keith is there.

He’s bundled up in one of his blankets and sitting haphazardly at one of the stools adjacent to the counter, with a pillow on said counter and his head flopped on the pillow. Kosmo sits dutifully by his side, attentive just in case his chosen human decides to pass out and collapse to the floor.

“I can help you figure out the soup,” he mumbles into the pillow. He sounds half asleep, but his grayish eyes manage to meet Allura’s as she stares at him, bewildered. “Never made it, but I know what it’s supposed to look like. Kinda. It’ll...it’ll look different with space ingredients, but. Yeah.”

This is one of the most talkative moments she’s ever heard out of Keith, and yet simultaneously one of his more jumbled sentences. Still, Allura is impressed.

Impressed, but not so sure this is a good idea. “You should be resting,” she chastises.

“Shiro and the others need the soup,” Keith argues. It’s less heated than his usual arguments to search for or protect Shiro and the others, but this is probably due to the fatigue and the fact that his stuffed nose makes him sound a bit distorted. “It makes you feel better. And you don’t have medicine yet, so we need the soup.”

Allura sighs. “I would be grateful for your help,” she admits. “But if you strain yourself too much, I will forcibly drag you back to the couch, if need be.”

“I’ve got a teleporting wolf,” Keith argues, a little petulantly. That is highly unusual, but probably another sign of illness. “I can come back.”

By the way Kosmo flattens his ears and half closes his eyes—an approximate summation of an annoyed expression if Allura has ever seen one—she has a feeling Kosmo will not be compliant with that particular rebellious attempt. She smiles understandingly at him.

“Alright,” Allura says. “Let’s try this again.”

Keith manages to explain, in between sniffles and coughs, that ‘cups’—along with ‘teaspoons’ and ‘tablespoons’—are a measurement system for dry and wet goods from one large country on Earth that Hunk hails from. Allura at least knows not to dump an entire drinking cup of food items into the pot she’s procured, but that doesn’t help her know what to actually measure.

Hunk has saved her in this regard, though. Keith produces a second card from the box. “Found this when I looked through again,” he mumbles. “S’got measurement translations. Like doboshes to minutes. But for food.”

That does help. Allura learns very quickly that it’s two quarzaks to a cup, a tablespoon is three quarters of a sestent, and a teaspoon is half of a glurzark, and after that everything makes a lot more sense. She finds the measuring materials that Coran had pulled out for the terskargal earlier, and from there it’s mostly a matter of translating Hunk’s bizarre recipe into sensible measurements.

Knowing what foods to use is a little trickier. But Keith eventually spots a large piece of paper taped to the fridge, and when Allura brings it to him, it’s a list of food equivalents for easy reference. She now understands, for example, that ‘rice’ is an Earth food, but that Hunk has determined it’s comparable to boiled teslak grain.

After that, it’s just a matter of properly parsing the ingredients, chopping them into smaller pieces, and carefully measuring. That part is simple by comparison. It’s a lot like rudimentary alchemy, and she had always enjoyed her father’s early alchemy books.

In the end, the pot on the stove bubbles merrily with some Earth concoction. It doesn’t smell as comforting as Coran’s terskargal, but it’s not unpleasant, and there was—thankfully—no need to milk any chickens, as Keith had promised. The chicken, as it turned out, was the shredded and boiled meat of the creature on their homeworld. Although it had been replaced with alkecha bird in this case, which Hunk had determined had a similar nutrition content.

Kieth dozes against the counter, face mashed into his pillow, with Kosmo’s muzzle resting gently on his knee. He hasn’t been needed for the last half a varga, now that Allura has an understanding of what she’s doing, but now is the moment of truth. She ladles some of the soup into a bowl, and nudges Keith’s shoulder gently. “I believe it’s done. Would you give it a try?”

Keith blinks awake. Allura places the bowl and spoon on the table. Keith gives it an experimental stuffy sniff before scooping up some of the vegetables, broth, and shredded blue meat, blowing to cool it, and giving it a try.

“Well?”

He considers. “Think it’s okay,” he says, after a moment. “Had to tell with my nose stuffed. It’s not that other stuff Coran tried to feed us, though—”

“—terskargal,” Allura supplies helpfully.

“—so I think the others could stomach it,” Keith finishes.

It’s not exactly glowing praise, but Allura will take it. “Thank you for your help,” she says, smiling. “I’ll leave the bowl for you—please try to eat it, and then go lay down again. Kosmo—make sure he does both of those things. We want him to feel better, too.”

Kosmo takes his muzzle off of Keith’s knee and offers her a flick of the ears and an almost human nod. Keith mutters to himself tiredly, but pulls the bowl closer to eat.

Allura fills several more bowls and sets them on a hovering tray, along with more water and other supplies the team might need. The mice haven’t reported anything alarming, but it never hurts to be proactively prepared. She leaves one of the bowls on the floor for Kosmo, who gives her an appreciative wuff of thanks before sticking his nose in it, and then pulls the tray after her to the paladin’s quarters.

Hunk is the first stop, for the real test of her cooking capabilities. Allura knocks and lets herself in at Hunk’s weak acknowledgement, and smiles sympathetically at the human flopped uncomfortably in bed. “I used your recipe and created some of that chicken soup of yours,” Allura says. “Would you like to try it?”

Hunk’s eyes light up. “Do I!” he says. “Mama Hunk’s recipe is good for the stomach. Keeps you fed and from throwing it up again.” And based on how wan he looks, he certainly needs the nutrients. All of them do—they’ve been throwing up all quintent. Keeping down even a little bit will do them all wonders.

“It’s my first time cooking it,” Allura says, as she sets one of the bowls and a glass of water on a smaller floating tray. “You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

She helps Hunk sit up, propping him with several pillows. Hunk is not at his strongest, but he does manage to take a spoonful of soup, blowing it on it carefully before trying. He swallows, considers, and finally says, “For your first time, it’s not too bad. Way better than that other stuff Coran gave us.”

That does seem to be the general opinion. Why, Allura will never understand. Terskargal has got to be better than this.

“I’m glad it is acceptable,” Allura says, smiling, and keeping her true thoughts to herself. “Will you be okay to eat while I deliver the rest to the others?”

“Sure,” Hunk says. “They should definitely all get some.” He sniffles uncomfortably, but then helps himself to another spoonful of soup. “It’ll definitely help everyone feel better. Good healthy stuff in here.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Allura says. “I’ll be back to collect your dishes in a little bit.”

The next varga is a busy one, as Allura delivers the rest of the soup, helps everyone sit up and get acclimated, and supervises in the cases where her patients are a little too wobbly or disoriented to be left with a hot bowl of liquids alone. The mice, thank the ancients, are invaluable in monitoring the process, keeping her updated on everyone’s status as she rotates room to room. By the time she’s finished making sure everyone has eaten and hydrated, collected the dirty dishes, refilled on water, cleaned out basins again, and made a mental note of which paladins’ sweat-dampened sheets need to be changed by Coran (something that does make sense to her as an Altean), she’s exhausted.

Keith, at least, is no trouble. She swings through the lounge to check on him, on her way back with the dirty dishes. He’s sound asleep again on the couch, with Kosmo once more stretched out atop him, nose snuggled into Keith’s neck. His empty bowl has been left neatly in the sink, and Kosmo’s is out of the way on the floor, licked clean.

Allura wearily collects the dishes and sets them into the automated cleaner. The rest of the soup is still kept warm on the stove, ready if anyone else needs it. She’ll need to check in soon with Coran on his progress, but for now, everyone is as cared for as can be, at least for the moment.

Really, caretaking is so much work. Especially with five humans to look after. She has much more appreciation for her mother, and for Coran, and the servants of ten thousand years ago. But she’s proud of herself, too, for being able to handle it all. Who would have thought looking after five sick paladins would be more exhausting than an entire Voltron battle?

At least she’d done it, and everyone had looked marginally better after the soup. No one can ever say she wouldn’t do anything for her friends. And she hadn’t even been required to milk a chicken.

Thank the ancients for small favors.

#Velkynkarma writes #Voltron #Allura #Keith #Hunk #Kosmo #space mice #the rest are there too but just kinda mentioned #sickfic #April Fools 2020 #Anonymous

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doobler · 4 years ago

Text

Strenuous

This was the worst part. Of everything in his entire job description, from constant life-or-death missions to the injuries spurned from them along with a truly horrible case of PTSD, this was the worst, bar none. Nothing could top it. Ever.

"Spartan 113, report to the lab for prosthetic detailing."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jonah cursed, punching the door to his personal quarters so hard that it dented.

"I am confused," Vykan piped up from the cot. "I thought you would be elated to receive a new prosthetic?"

"Sure, after it's all said and done," He shook out his hand. His knuckles burned. "The actual refitting process is hell. Nothing compares to it."

Jonah emphatically gestured to the gap where his left arm would be. As he spoke, he grew angrier.

"The damned thing always takes a few days to get used to, hooking up new tech is long and arduous, the technicians have no souls, they only care about the "experiment", a new piece doesn't stop the HORRIBLE phantom pains, and the wiring being connected to my nerves is like having your goddamned BONES set on fire."

Jonah panted. When he regained his breath, he stood up ramrod straight then sighed.

"Whatever. I'll be back in a bit."

"What if I accompanied you?"

Vykan looked sympathetic but not in that awful pitying way that Jonah despised. He stood, laying a hand on the Spartan's bad shoulder.

"You've told me our evenings on HALO together temporarily chased away your nightmares," Vykan pressed, sounding more hopeful. "Perhaps my presence now will help?"

Jonah faked rubbing at his sinuses to hide the subtle flush in his cheeks. Damn. He never should've confessed that. Now that the hell of surviving HALO was over, he had to face the odd magnetic pull Vykan always seemed to radiate. Being around the Elite made him dizzy and confused. At the same time, Vykan was being very kind in offering to help. Saying no would be a dick move.

"Okay, okay, maybe that'll work." Jonah peeled off his shirt, rooting around for a tank top. He continued to speak as he dressed. "But if I tell you it's time to leave, you better listen the first time."

"On my honor."

"Good. Let's go."

Jonah was in a rush heading out the door. He missed the longing expression on Vykan's face.

---

"Take a seat, 113."

Jonah harrumphed at the engineer. As per usual, there were four of them, all with little handheld tablets to jot down data on. The lab was fuller than usual, no doubt the scientists and technicians wanted a closer look at both the new upgraded piece and Vykan himself. They watched with beady eyes as Jonah sat on the examination table and Vykan hovered nearby.

"How did you lose this one?" Jonah never bothered to learn any of the researchers names because he hated them but she looked familiar.

"I was ambushed. On HALO," Jonah snarled. "Sliced clean off by an. An energy sword."

"Did you experience a spike in feelings such as anxiety, panic, or shock when faced with the same weapon that took off your arm in the first place?"

"We're gonna skip the psych eval today," Jonah interrupted. He felt ready to puke. "And go right on ahead to actually fitting the damn thing. Got it? Or I'm leaving."

She sniffled once, scribbled something on her tablet, then moved on. A different scientist came forth with the new prosthetic. It was beautiful in a way. His previous one had been rather bare bones, simplistic armatures and wiring built to be lightweight with enhanced mobility. This one more resembled flesh, its plates shaped like planes of muscle, the bicep, tricep, and forearm sections defined and elegant. The fingers looked a normal size and thickness with articulated joints and an accurately segmented palm.

"Wow," Jonah breathed. "You guys really stepped up your game this time."

"It's a prototype," A third engineer piped up. "A mesh of military grade and civilian appropriate hardware and software. The idea is to give you every advantage on the field while attempting to simulate a realistic flesh arm in equal balance."

"Your feedback will be especially helpful this time and there will be a series of tests for the next week."

"Hey, if it works as good as it looks, I'll do whatever the fuck you ask," Jonah shifted his position, one leg pulled up on the table to give full access to the port in his shoulder. "Fire away."

At first, the hope was only one technician would be needed to affix the arm. As soon as the ball joint latch struck against his shoulder, however, Jonah couldn't help but scream and convulse. The port was a direct line to the nerves in his shoulder. The act of slotting the arm into place meant connecting wires both mechanical and flesh and the process was incredibly painful. He chewed down on his lower lip until it split and bled, finally squirming back and away. As he regained his breath, another technician joined in to help.

The second attempt was worse. Thankfully, a chair and not a human was the closest thing to Jonah. He kicked it hard enough that the window it smashed against fractured but didn't shatter. The latch fumbled and his cry of agony was ear-splitting.

When a third technician moved in to assist, Vykan cut between them.

"Perhaps I can help."

He shimmied up onto the examination table and looked over the Spartan. Jonah had tears prickling in his eyes. Gods. He couldn't even imagine the amount of pain he was in. Vykan held out his hand, his subsequent exhale sounding rather determined.

"You can squeeze as hard as you would care to," Vykan promised gently. "Do not fear hurting me."

Vykan knew his companion was desperate because Jonah took the offering with little hesitation. His skin was so soft and smooth, so unlike an Elite's. The warm caramel tone was rather pretty as well. Vykan swallowed. No, no, not now. Focus.

"Attempt mark three." Was the only spoken warning.

The latch caught the port and Jonah managed not to shriek. He could feel the tendons and muscles and bones in Vykan's hand flex and grind under his grip. When he glanced at the Elite's face, it was calm and cool. Jonah squeezed harder as the technicians readjusted their angle. With a sharp push, the latch and port aligned and the prosthetic slotted into place. Jonah groaned from deep within his chest as sensation tingled quite painfully through his shoulder. He flexed his fingers, listening to the soft little clicks of lightweight metal plates.

"How does it feel?" One technician inquired.

"It's a good weight," Jonah rolled his shoulder, testing the prosthetics full range of mobility. "Not too heavy, not too light, well balanced. I think the strain'll be minimal."

"Test the reaction time, is there any delay?"

"Not that I can tell yet," Jonah flexed his palm over and over. "It's pretty instantaneous. I'm more worried about the grip strength and how long it can hold any input."

"The grip strength should be equal or slightly greater to that of your other arm. As for holding input, it should keep for as long as you will it."

"You got anything to punch? Let's see how much kick this bitch packs."

Vykan watched, his thoughts cloudy and fragmented. It was always a delight to watch Jonah simply exist. He was so much bigger than the average human but always seemed distinctly aware of the space he occupied. When he chatted with Marines, he almost blended in until you took into stock how much more massive he was in comparison. His speech was vulgar, always filled with curses and harsh tones, but once he got on a subject he cared for, his voice softened and his intellect shone through. He carried himself proudly and he was brave and strong and smart and powerful and kind and warm, his eyes were such a fascinating shade of midnight blue, his lips were plump and full, his smile was bright and dazzling and--

"--Vy? You good, pal?"

Vykan jolted back to reality. Oh. Right. Jonah furrowed his brow but smiled.

"We're all done here," He clasped the Elite's shoulder. "C'mon, I'm hungry, let's go get something to eat."

He let Jonah steer him out of lab, his head swivelling around to watch the room as they left. The way the researchers looked back at him, the hunger in their eyes, sent chills down Vykan's spines. Who knew humans could be so haunting?

"You ok?" Jonah stopped once they were a good few halls away. "You full on spaced out there."

"Just acclimating to the situation," Vykan lied smoothly. "That was a rather... Shocking experience."

"Pfft. You're telling me. It gets harder every time. But this puppy right here," Jonah playfully tried to flex his prosthetic arm. "Is top of the class. I can already tell I'm gonna love this piece of shit."

Vykan followed right behind him, his gaze growing glassy as he listened to Jonah ramble on. He rubbed a thumb over his palm, the one Jonah had squeezed, and tried not to think of how nicely their hands had fit together.

#too impatient. must post now #halo oc #my oc #oc #vykan 'dravam #jonah-113 #tiny fic #THEY BOTH CAUGHT FEEEELS #also Vykan is pan and Jonah is gay

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 4. Him

‘be gentle my little thunderstorm, the world is just not ready.’ a.j. lawless

The day we had tea with the Cambridges ended the same way many before: with Lourdes sending a video of her ice skating routine asking for my opinion; that time I didn’t even pretend to see it. I ignored the text and tried to sleep.

Louis barged into the room soon after.

“Will you stop ignoring our sister?”, he asked, rudely. “She notices, Maggie. And it’s really unfair.”

“Okay.” I said. “Goodnight.”

I heard him sigh, and nothing else. No steps out of the room, no creaky Clarence House door closing, no light down. Finally, I pushed away the cover and sat up.

“I can’t do this now, Louis. I have a headache.”

I’d come up with the headache excuse in order to skip dinner with the Prince of Wales and his wife, but my brother knew that excuse better than anyone.

After leaving the Cambridges, we had gone back to Clarence House, where we were hosted for the trip, and changed into black attire for a military ceremony in town where I managed to avoid my brother to try and focus on being less upset. He wasn’t about to make it easy for me, though.

At one point, Harry came to stay in line with us as my father and Prince Charles received the compliments from the officials. He gave me that look of his I was now coming to identify as a signature look, one with more intentions than verbalized; one with more feeling than was allowed.

“Nice dress.” He said. Leaning in close enough that only I could hear him, close enough that his lips brushed my hair and couldn’t be read by prying reporters, he added, “The person wearing it is prettier.”

It took all in me to contain an eyeroll, but the amused smile in my lips was impossible to hold back. Just as I felt my cheeks redden, Louis joined in.

“It’s probably our mother’s. The shoes definitely are.”

It wasn’t a dig for the untrained ears. My mother, in all ways, was more stylish and beautiful than a woman her age should be allowed to be. But knowing my brother for all the twenty-two years he’d been on this earth, I knew very well how to distinguish his honest compliments to his sarcastic ones.

Still, the moment passed, and I maintained the posture expected of me. Coming home, however, I had to tell my father I had a headache so I could come right upstairs before dinner, or else I might lose it in public.

I had a nice, warm shower, put on my softest fleece pajamas, and brushed my hair while talking to my friend Constance on the phone about our other friend Stella and her terrible taste in men, allowing it to distract me from my brother and wild, unruly thoughts of Harry.

After that, I got under the blankets and prepared to stare at funny pictures on pinterest - an app I had a fake, incognito account on - until sleep took over. I promptly ignored my sister’s text, as I was known to do, and not ten minutes later Louis barged into the room.

I finally heard the door close, and was overtaken by a familiar struggle against tears, but before I could decide if I should succumb to it, the mattress dipped as my brother climbed onto bed with me. A few seconds went by in silence before he finally broke it.

“Look. Maggie. I… I was talking to Will earlier.”

“Prince William?”

“Oui. I guess I just… I didn’t realize- of course I knew you were helping a lot back home. I just didn’t think it bothered you so much.”

I took it in; he was… almost apologizing.

“Well, now you know.”

“Yes, I do. And, I don’t know, I just…”

I pushed the blankets down and sat up, still not looking over at him, but allowing myself to be in the moment as well.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

I sighed, and finally looked over at him.

My brother didn’t look too young or old, he had that odd quality of looking precisely his age. He had a light stubble growing around his thin, pointy jaw; it was the same color as his hair, blonde, which was now growing almost to his ears. It waved about, framing his eyes, a nice, dark blue shade just like mine - Lourdes had them too, all three of us had inherited them from our mother. The blonde hair we got from dad’s side of the family, as well as an unwavering determination.

“I’m not unhappy, Lou. I just… I could be happier, I suppose.”

He nodded. “And I want you to be.”

Letting out a long breath, I attempted to also let go of the anger, and focus on what I knew for sure about Louis.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. No matter the signs, or how often he was told of the contrary, Louis was always decided to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was a trait we got from our mother, too, and I wasn’t sure what had made me slightly more cynical than him in this aspect, but I suspected it happened somewhere in Law School.

Louis wanted people to be happy, to excel. He wanted laughter and adventure and success for every person that crossed his path. I knew for a fact there was no way he would ever really wish the contrary, on anyone. I knew something else, too, something much more important.

I knew exactly why he was afraid to come home.

“I know you’re trying to figure things out.” I told him. “I don’t blame you. I know it’s tough.”

He nodded, slowly, and took in a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was wavering; barely a whisper.

“I’m not, though. Not anymore. I think you know that. I haven’t been figuring things out anymore. I’ve known, really known, for a while now.”

All thoughts of the fight forgotten, I felt my heart tighten on my chest. I looked at my little brother, shrunk down and resolute, sitting by my side in bed. He was staring off into the room, but I knew, somehow, he was perfectly aware of my every move.

“You’re sure?” My whisper matched his. I presumed my fear did too.

He sighed, gulped, and shut his eyes tight, before opening them again and smiling at me, scared.

“I’m in love with him.”

The words were new, but the sentiment wasn’t; Louis was fifteen the first time he told me he thought he might be gay. I remembered the day as if I had been replaying it in my mind at least once a month ever since, because it was accurate.

It was summer; I was almost eighteen, fresh out of my secondary school graduation, but still a few weeks before my adult future. We had been spending summer with our grandparents at the place they lived after my grandfather abdicated as king, Haydell Castle, in the east coast of Savoy. The Castle sat on a hill overlooking the Atlantic, and Louis, myself and Lourdes would go to the beach most afternoons to play volleyball and tan. One late afternoon, Lourdes was applying finishing touches to a sandcastle she’d spent hours working on. Louis had been helping, but left her to get some water from the cooler near where I was laying, struggling to read a book on the darkening light of the fast approaching sunset.

He sat down by my side with a thud, drank half a bottle of water as I complained about the sand he’d inadvertently thrown my way, and then, without looking at me, said, “I think I have a crush on a classmate.”

Louis went to an all-boys boarding school. The boy in question was a very handsome senior, with kind eyes and handsome dimples. My brother spent a while telling me about how he liked sports and theater and wanted to backpack through South America after school. Then we spent the rest of the summer brainstorming what this could mean.

Monarchies weren’t built on diversity. The core of the system our family was built on was genetics and catholicism, two elements that were famously not very lenient. The Royal Family of Savoy had branched out from the French Royal Family many generations ago. Though we prided ourselves, then and now, that we were different, we still inherited some very big elements from them. A few tiaras, a few titles, and Catholicism. Though Savoy had freedom of religion, the monarchy’s official creed was still Catholicism. It was involved in most of our protocols and traditions, a king couldn’t even be crowned if he hadn’t been baptised in the church.

The idea of a gay, catholic King of Savoy was ludicrous even to us, no matter how much we wished it wasn’t.

And then, there was the issue of the line of succession. Say the church and country allowed my brother to reign as an out gay man, say they allowed him to marry a man in the Catholic church, say they allowed him to be crowned as king with a prince consort… It would be his duty to secure the line of succession; a king’s job is to produce a child to be the next king whose child will be next after him, and so on. Though it was the 21st century, there was no precedent to a king’s heir being anything other than his own, biologic child. And even as we tried to consider the idea of my brother having one with an egg donor, using a surrogate, we immediately knew what that would mean: whoever this woman was, her privacy would never be respected. People would want to know everything about her.

As to adopting, what were his options? In what world would the press not hunt down every possible information about the child’s biological family? Interview every distant relative for money? Come up with every way to embarrass them for clicks on an article? How could that child possibly be raised to be king with that kind of scrutiny surrounding them?

I thought of it as we sat in silence. He loved Peter. Peter loved him. And yes, they were young and that might change, but Louis being gay wouldn’t. Louis wanting to be a father was unlikely to change. But there was no precedent for a king to have an adopted child as an heir, and having a biological child through surrogate would be too hard on a surrogate and her family, being harassed and forever linked to us. If he sacrificed his own wishes and decided not to have children in order to spare them, then me or my children would have to inherit, which to me was simply unthinkable.

“They’re not going to cut you out.” I told him. “You know mom and dad, they love you. They love us. It might be hard dealing with everyone else, but they’ll always support you.”

He gulped. “The thing is… they might love me, but that’s not enough to change centuries of tradition just so I can-”

“Be who you are!”

He was silent, pulling on a lose thread on the blanket.

“I suppose I could just do what they did back in the day.” He considered. “Marry some poor, naive girl, sleep with her just enough to produce an heir and make Peter my secretary so we can carry out a scandalous and secret affair.”

I gave him a sarcastic look, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” He started biting a nail. “I could just… not have children.”

“You want children.”

“...yeah.”

“We’ll think of something.” I told him, confidently. “It’ll be easier once mom and dad know. They’ll figure something out. They’re good at this. They’re not going to make you keep this a secret, they love you too much.”

He sighed. “It would be easier for me to abdicate.”

“That’s not happening!”

“Why?! Because you can’t fathom the idea of having to inherit?! You think it’s okay to put me or my children through hell so you can hold on to your comfort? Who’s being selfish now?!”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

“That’s not fair.” I wasn’t even sure the words had come out, so low was my volume and so loud my shock.

He reached out and held my hand in his, leaning over to lay his head on my shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I laid my cheek against his hair, holding his hand tightly.

The worst part was knowing he was right. As unfair as it was, the easiest path was for him to come out and simply not have kids. But I didn’t want the headache of figuring out how to raise children to inherit after him, or worse yet, to have to be the heir if he was made to abdicate. It was such a colossal thought I couldn’t even think of it too much without feeling a panic attack creeping in.

He was 22. My little brother shouldn’t even be concerned about children at this age. And yet, because of the backwards traditions we were embroiled in from birth, he had no choice, and all our lives depended on how accepting the world would be of who he was.

“Hey.” I called, and he raised his head to look at me. “We will figure it out. I promise.”

His smile was so small it broke my heart even more. He didn’t say anything, though. He just nodded, slowly, and stared at his hands.

“I love Peter.” I said, tentatively. I had said it before, but it carried a different weight now. Louis’ smile grew.

“I want to introduce him to Lou. She didn’t come that time you met him, I think they’ll get along.”

I bumped my shoulder to his. “Just tell him to compliment her skating, she’ll love him.”

He chuckled, then looked at me very seriously. “Speaking of our sister, you could be more patient with her, you know?”

I sighed. “I am.”

“No, you’re not. Patient would be watching her videos and offering useful advice.”

“You’re asking too much.”

“I can do it, so can you! You think I care about ice skating?”

“Kinda.”

“Well… okay, I do. But they wear really sparkly dresses. Honestly, Maggie, she just wants to make you proud.”

“I don’t…!” I sighed, “I don’t really know how to talk to her, sometimes. I only had a couple of years with her before going to boarding school, you at least got to see her more often.”

He fished into his pockets, found his phone and opened the messaging app. I watched him create a group, add both me and Lourdes to it, name it ‘Louis’ Girl Gang’, and send the message, ‘this way it’s easier to chat!’.

“This way you can just watch how I interact with her and mimic.” He said. “Just react like me and soon you’ll be able to do it yourself.”

I opened my phone and replied, ‘this chat name is ridiculous’.

“Ouch.” He said, emotionless.

I gave him a dirty look, and we laughed. Both our phones buzzed at the same time with Lourdes’ reply, the first of many.

‘yay i love this! miss u guys!’

I smiled. She was too sweet for her own good.

I had no idea what the future held for us, but I knew with one hundred percent certainty I loved every single atom of my siblings.

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

The drive to the polo club the following morning - our last one in Britain - wasn’t long, but we had to leave early enough that I had to do my makeup in the car. Did I need makeup to play polo? No. But would the press comment on how ‘tired’ I looked if I didn’t? Yes, so shaky hands on a tiny mirror it was.

Harry and William were already at the club when we got there; we were introduced to the horses we were using that morning, and the rest of the people who would be playing. There was a small breakfast laid out, with mimosas and champagne flutes, which we ate as we made some small talk and got to know everyone.

“So,” Harry started, finding me alone by the water jugs.

“So.” I replied.

“I’ve been doing some googling.”

“Yes?”

He sighed. “And I cannot, for the life of me, figure out when we may have met.”

“Oh.” I smiled.

I had started to think he’d forgotten it, or worse, simply didn’t care. But apparently he did. He cared enough to look it up.

The thought felt… oddly warm.

“I asked my people. And then I asked my people to ask your people, who weren’t able, or willing, to come up with an answer. So I do not know, for the life of me, when we may have met before two days ago.”

I nodded, smiling slightly. “Your efforts are noted.”

“Look, I feel like a jerk.” He sighed. “I’m sure I would remember you if we met before. You have a face a guy would remember.”

I swallowed the electric shock that line sent through me. “Apparently not.”

“Give me a hint. Was it here or in Savoy? Or another country? Day or night? Was it more than a year ago?”

I looked at him, brows raised. “It was in another country, during the day, more than a year ago.”

He nodded, attentive, scratching his beard. Then, he sighed dramatically. “God, I have no idea!”

“So you give up?”

He grinned. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. It’s a question.”

He stared into my eyes for a beat, as his smile grew.

“No, I don’t give up. I’ll figure it out.”

I nodded, silently, holding his stare.

I suddenly realized I didn’t have a plan. I hadn’t planned on making this a big deal, but now when I eventually had to tell him, we would both be faced with a story that wasn’t as interesting or sexy as we had made it sound.

“So, what are we thinking?!” My brother interrupted, joining us with William. “Heirs against spares?”

“What, and lose the chance to massacrate Harry on the field?” I challenged, as the ginger looked at me, mouth agape.

“Nice! I love the sentiment, Margueritte!” William cheered. “She’s on my team, dibs on Margueritte!”

“Excuse me, I believe I already have dibs on Mary.” Harry interjected, making his brother laugh.

The line was so unapologetically flirty I felt my jaw drop as I looked around. We were at a tent in the back, where the players were getting ready before being sorted into teams. There was no press around, but there was a lot of people who hadn’t signed NDAs or anything.

Louis was squinting at Harry with a mischievous grin on his lips. “Excuse me, are you flirting with my sister?”

I felt my stomach twirl in anxiety, and tried to give him a warning look, but before I could, Harry answered.

“I’ve been trying to, for the past three days.”

He was smiling at me now, again so unapologetically it felt as if I had lost all ability to function. William was watching the whole thing with an amused look on his eyes.

Louis’ grin grew into a smile, as he slowly moved his eyes from Harry to me, “Huh.”

“Is that a problem?”, Harry asked my brother.

“For me? No!” He assured him, “For you? Well…”

“She hasn’t exactly made it easy for me.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Louis-Adolphe!” I admonized, earning from him a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t use both my names as if you’re mom.”

William laughed.

“Any tips?” Harry asked Louis, very seriously, but looking at me as if studying an animal on the wild.

“Hm,” my brother considered him, “Patience. Her only relationship was with a family friend we’ve known all our lives, and that took forever.”

“Lou!” I warned, again.

“What?! It’s not like he can’t google you.” He shrugged.

“Okay.” I said, before turning on my heels to exit the tent.

I made myself busy elsewhere, but couldn’t keep my mind straight. My heart was racing and I couldn’t tell if the reason was Louis’ teasing or Harry’s unabashed flirting, or both. Before I knew it, though, we were stretching as a group, and getting our uniforms on; I did stay on William’s team, while Harry and Louis played together.

He found me as we made our way into the field, while I was busy trying to tie the upper half of my hair on a low ponytail.

“Have I told you you look fantastic today, Mary?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll remedy that as soon as possible.”

“You look fantastic, Mary. White pants suit you.”

Harry’s eyes hovered down my body over my form-fitting white jeans under the black riding boots.

“Thank you.” I said, curt, and paced faster to my horse, starting to fasten the girth to adjust the saddle.

“...I’m sorry.”

I stopped, and looked back at him, only half surprised he was still there. A little more than half surprised by the genuine fear and sadness in his eyes.

“Oh. For?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable before, when I was talking to your brother. I was just… trying to lighten the mood. Be, you know, funny I guess.”

I gulped; funny?

“Right. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I resumed my work on the horse’s saddle.

I even added a short smile to go with the lie, but it didn’t seem to convince him.

“Really, I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?”

He took a quick step closer and wrapped my hand in his; I felt my breath caught in my throat as I noticed how big they were, his knuckles were protuberant, his veins popped against his pale skin. In a dark corner in my mind I wondered what hands like those might feel like on my body.

“Mary.” He whispered, softly; I gulped, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Marie.” I whispered back.

He sighed. “Marie. If you want me to stop, and just… be your friend, or even just a polite acquaintance…”

He allowed the end of his sentence to hang in the air, ominous; It felt horrifying, specially hearing him call me my actual name. It made me look back at him, meeting his eyes a lot closer than I thought they would be.

“...all you gotta do is say so.” He finished, finally.

The offer sounded awfully simple for a feat that sounded amazingly difficult, though I couldn’t understand why. He was being so annoying, so infuriating for the past three days. It would be so easy to tell him to back off, if only it weren’t for that little part of my heart that was trying to tell me he wasn’t that annoying. And really, wasn’t the only frustrating thing about it that we had had so little time together? After all, his hand was still on mine, and it did feel like my whole body was warmer than the British sun on that morning warranted.

“What’s this?” I asked.

As I looked back to his hands, I noticed once more that he had something written in them. He turned his palm towards me, while the back of his hand still rested in mine.

“This says ‘call Gil’, it’s the manager of my foundation in Lesotho. I have to get back to him about something. And this other line says ‘figure out trip’. It’s my mate’s birthday next month and the lads asked me to figure out how we can organize a hunting trip for him.”

As he explained his little reminder list on his palm, I traced it with the tips of my fingers lightly. After I ran out of the ink to trace, I started tracing the lines in his palm, very slowly.

“Bad memory?” I teased.

He sighed, “The worst. Well, not about important things. I remember important things. But names of people I met only a couple times, but should definitely know? Nope. And the deadline to things I have to do? Even worse. Hence the writing in hand.”

“Have you tried setting alarms on your phone?”

“I barely know how to make calls.” He rolled his eyes.

“Drama queen!”

“I’m serious! We’re not allowed to use social media, so really what’s there to do? I just don’t use it much.”

“God, it’s like you’re 80.”

He chuckled, and his hand closed on reflex over mine. Now it was almost as if we were holding hands. The thought, the warmth of his skin on mine, sent a shock wave through my body.

“Come on, Harry, no flirting with the competition!” Louis called out as he rode by.

We chuckled, timidly.

“Things seem better, with Louis.” He commented.

I smiled. “We talked.”

“Did he understand?”

I nodded. “Yes. He’s got a good heart. He’s young, but he’d never willingly do something to hurt anyone. It’s just…” I sighed, giving him a side glance. “He’s got… some stuff to figure out. And I wanna help as much as I can. I just… Can’t sacrifice myself for it. And I think he gets it.”

There was a pause, a more comfortable one this time, and next time he spoke, he had a whisper of a smile on his lips.

“You didn’t ask me to stop.” He whispered. I looked at him.

“I guess I didn’t.”

We exchanged a smile, and just as I felt my cheeks redden at the long pause, his brother rode by already on his horse.

“Stop flirting with my player, Harry, get to your horse!”

We jumped, startled, but chuckled timidly as he rode away.

“So, how confident are you that you’re going to beat me?”, he asked.

“Oh, only about 89%.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Ninety-six, tops.”

He nodded, amused. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Loser buys dinner.”

I bit my inner lip to contain a smile. It almost sounded like he was asking me on a date. Was he asking me out on a date?

“I… I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Well, Savoy is, what? Four or five hours away by train?”

“Another one and a half to the city where I live.”

He nodded, then shrugged. “I can do that. What do you say?”

I placed a foot on the stirrup, and jumped up to take my seat on the saddle.

“Win first, Your Royal Highness. Then we’ll talk.”

“Game on, Mary.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! please let me know if you like it? I’m open to notes, suggestions, all of it =) just liking this chapter would really help me know!

I don’t know how to say this without spoiling a big plot point in the story, but to be fair it is sort of the main premise, so if you’d like not to be spoiled on plot points, maybe come back later? Cool. Let’s get to it.

When I first started writing this story, I hadn’t intended on Margueritte’s brother, Louis, to be such a big character. I expected his time with us would be… well, shorter, after all the main idea for this story starts with his - again, spoiler alert - death. But as I wrote a little of him, I I liked him so much, and I ended up writing more and more and soon it was really heartbreaking killing him. As you’ll soon find, Louis fits into a trope I didn’t intentionally set out to write: the kill your gays trope. I don’t want to go into details because that’s enough spoilers, but suffice to say mea culpa, and also I hope you’ll give me a chance to show I do have a bigger intention with this: one, monarchies are famously heteronormative. They essentially can’t survive otherwise, or so we are told. I have always wandered about this. We’ve all read the historical examples of homosexuality being swiftly repressed for the good of the succession line. As a modern royal, Margueritte will have to look this issue in the eyes, too. She’ll have to realize the role she plays in a system where for her family and its history to survive, some families cannot exist in their purest form, and she will struggle with not being able to tell the world the truth about her brother - since it is not her place - knowing this makes her an accomplice in rewriting history to fit her best purpose.

Which choices she makes and which path she decided to take in this issue are something I’m excited to explore, as I honestly believe monarchies will have to have a solution for this at one point or another.

TL/DR: though this story adds to the kill your gays trope, which I know it’s problematic, I want to write about the way monarchies perpetuate heteronormativity and how they will have to find a way for all their members, regardless of sexuality or gender identity, to feel at home in the institution, and I intend to add more non-straight characters so delve into this issue.]

#prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #princeharryfanfic #royalfanficcollection #brf #Prince Harry #princeharryff #chapters #OPITCphff #modern royalty au #modern royalty fanfic

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justanotherlifeff · 4 years ago

Text

Levi Ackerman × reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, matured themes, slowburn

Warning: There's mentions and descriptions of underage rape and suicidal themes

Your POV

I was in the town near Trost district, drinking a cup of tea when I heard the cannon fire. The squad with Mikasa returned but I didnt see Mikasa, Armin and Eren around. I was getting a bit worried about it. Since I didn't have any gas in my 3DMG, I couldn't get on roofs to see what's going on like everyone else. I figured that I'll find out later about the cannon fire and the unusual amount of steam.

And I did find out the source of the steam. I was standing below the wall with other cadets from my class when Commander Pixis declared that Eren can shift into a titan. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but it explained the steam and the suicidal plan that commandet Pixis was talking about. The commander didn't have any reason to lie to be honest but Eren being able to become a titan? That just seemed impossible. There were a lot of soldiers protesting against this but Commander Pixis was able to shut them up with a motivational speech. After a while, I was called on the top of the wall, to join the elite squad that would protect Eren. Mikasa was there too. The plan was to run on the wall and get closer to the boulder that laid in the middle of the city and make Eren transform and take the boulder to plug the hole in the wall. "Oi Mikasa, what exactly can Eren do? I mean, what commander Pixis told us was too far fetched." I asked Mikasa as I was running beside her. The other squad members were having a conversation with Eren about how everyone is depending on him. "He can form a body of a titan on his own and control it. He saved me twice already." Mikasa answered. "You must be thrilled" I told her with a smirk. Mikasa had this crush on Eren for ages and anyone with eyes could see that. Everyone except Eren that is. "Shut up (Y/N)" Mikasa mumbled with a small blush.

When we reached the closest route to the boulder, we switched to 3DMG. While the squad and myself landed on a roof of a building, Eren bit his hand and suddenly, there was a huge thunder bolt and this huge 15 meter class titan that appeared out of nowhere and looked disturbingly like Eren. To our surprise, that titan threw a punch at Mikasa. Mikasa flew on top of the titan's face trying to talk sense into it. "Mikasa! Get off him! He's not in control!" I shouted at her just before the titan threw a blow at Mikasa, that Mikasa barely dodged, thus knocking itself out. Rico from our squad fired a smoke signal for the failed plan. After a small argument with Mikasa throwing dirty looks at everyone who tried to abandon Eren and thus that titan, squad Leader Ian decided that Mikasa and I would be standing guard to protect Eren while the others will be keeping the titans approaching us at bay. "This is a mess. You said he can control this." I muttered to Mikasa. "Trust me, he did control it. It's probably because he is tired..." Mikasa sighed, looking at the unconscious titan. "How exactly did Eren get out of this thing?" I asked Mikasa with curiosity. "He got out of the nape." Mikasa shortly answered, her worried eyes still on Eren.

Wasn't it possible to cut him out of the nape? Just as the thought came to my mind, I saw a titan coming towards us, ignoring the squad. Were they attracted to Eren? "Mikasa, get that titan. I'll be near Eren." I told her as she ran off to kill the titan. Just as Mikasa slit the nape of that titan, I saw Armin flying towards us. "(Y/N)! What happened to the plan? What's wrong with Eren?" he asked. "The plan failed. Eren can't control this thing. We need to get him out of here as soon as possible. You were there when Eren got out of the titan. Is it possible to cut him out of the nape?" I asked Armin firmly. "I don't know about that but I can try to get him into control!" Armin shouted as he got on Eren's back. "Armin! It's dangerous!Get away from there!" Mikasa shouted at Armin as she got closer to us. "I tried talking to it, but got no reaction. It doesn't matter who does! It's pointless!" Mikasa continued. "Maybe it's because Eren can't listen to us! Cutting him out will be too risky but if I stab him at the right place and create an opening for him to listen through..." Armin shouted at us. "Strike from the back of the head to the nape of the neck... One meter length wise, ten centimetres across" Armin made a calculation in his head before shouting out, "(Y/N)! Mikasa! Protect this area from titans I'll get Eren out of here!" as he used his 3DMG to hook himself to Eren's titan. I understood his plan and didn't question him and thus, followed his instructions and flew over to the squad who were fighting the hoard of about 15 titans coming towards Eren. Mikasa wasn't following me yet.

The squad was getting pummelled just before I reached, saving a squad member who got caught by a titan. My blades were wearing off quickly as I didn't get a change of blades after the evacuation. Apparantly there was a shortage of blades as all soldiers were fighting, most of them acting as baits to keep the titans near the wall. They were given blades too for self defence incase a titan caught them. I took down 6 more titans with the assistance of the squad and thus, I was left with my last set of good blades. My gas tank was less than half filled and just before I decided to retreat, I heard a huge roar. I looked back and saw Eren's titan stand and carry the boulder. However, 5 titans were already coming from the gap in the wall. This looked bad, given that I had only one set of blades, not enough gas and there weren't any buildings to use 3DMG efficiently near the wall. However, that didn't stop me from flying towards Mikasa and Armin, who were near Eren. "The weakling really did it" I thought because I didn't expect Armin to make any contribution, given that he always had to rely on his friends. I respected his knowledge but I didn't like how he never had any confidence in himself.

I tried to use as less gas as possible to get near them, running on buildings most of the time. Squad leader Ian followed me and ordered Mikasa, myself and Armin to protect Eren at all costs. Without any doubt, Mikasa and I were the most skilled people in this squad. Mikasa was gifted with talent while I trained for much longer than they did and with the commander of the survey corps, who knew exactly how hard the training should get. The Garrison soldiers simply lacked the talent and training as they weren't expected to fight titans. They were much better at using cannons though. As we ran out of buildings, we started running infront of Eren. Mitabi squad was trying to distract the titans and our squad soon followed. Still, two of the titans avoided them and walked towards us. "Mikasa! Armin! I'll take care of them! Don't leave Eren's side!" I shouted at them before running towards the titans. I had absolutely no experience in fighting titans without using any buildings to use 3DMG but I knew that I had to give my absolute best. I ran around the two 13 meter classes and shot the hook of my 3DMG at one of their legs and then to its right arms to fly up and kill the second titan. However, I suddenly found myself in the bone crushing grasp of the first titan. These all seemed too familiar, the tight grab, the blood, the smug smiles... I used one blade to cut through it's hand thus breaking the blade and shot the hook of my 3DMG at the eye of that titan. Again... So familiar... The pressure of the 3DMG shot me up in the air as I shot the hook at its nape and using the last blade to cut it's nape, thus spending all my blades.

I ran towards Mikasa and Armin, who were very close to the wall, avoiding every other titan who were eating our comrades. Is that how it looked like when my parents were killed? My mind started making up painful images of them being devoured but I shook them off my mind. It wasn't the time to think. Just as I reached them, Armin shouted out "GO EREN!" and Eren plugged the hole. It was over. We just retook Trost district. Rico shot a smoke signal for the mission being successful. Armin immediately went on top of Eren's titan to get him out. Reinforcements would be sent soon but there wasn't much time as two titans were already approaching us and I was useless for now. Mikasa and Rico went up to aid Armin and I followed them to see Eren's hand turned into flesh and stuck to the titan. "We'll have to cut him out." Rico stated before cutting off the flesh, not listening to Mikasa's protests. Armin fell down the impact and I noticed that the titans were already upon us. Mikasa still had good blades but she wasn't fast enough... I had to make a gamble as Uncle Erwin always put it. I flew up and hooked my 3DMG to one of the titan's forehead and tried to make a clean cut on the nape but my blade broke midway and I almost fell but managed to use my 3DMG to land safely beside Armin. Suddenly, I saw what seemed like a blur moving in circular motions and the two titans fell flat infront of us. That for sure wasn't Mikasa. Mikasa landed beside me just a moment later and I saw this figure with the wings of freedom on his back standing on top of one of the titan's head. "Oi, brats. What's the situation here?" he said as he turned towards us and I saw Levi for the first time after 8 years.

A few days later

I was sitting at the mess hall with Mikasa and Armin. They had imprisoned Eren after the retake of Trost. Apparantly the military police were behind it. I personally never liked them as they were against me during my trial and now, they were working against one of the few friends I had. "Armin Arlet! Mikasa Ackerman! (Y/N) (L/N)!" a military police soldier called us. "Hai!" the three of us shouted, standing up. "You all are called at the trial as witnesses." he told us asking us to follow him. We were told that Eren's trial will take place right now and Armin predicted that they probably would decide whether Eren should live or die. I knew he was right because I personally saw how unpredictable Eren's powers are. However, that might be the only chance humanity has against titans. We followed the military police soldier to the enormous courtroom and waited in our designated places. I noticed that Levi was there beside uncle Erwin. Both uncle Erwin and commander Nile Dok of the military police stated their intentions with Eren. The judge, supreme commander Darius Zackly then asked Eren if he could continue to contribute to mankind. Eren, ofcourse said that he can but that's where things went south.

"Is that so? This is from the report on the recovery mission. Right after becoming a titan, you swung your fist three times at Mikasa Ackerman" the supreme commander read from a paper. Mikasa threw a dirty look at Rico who said, "What was I supposed to do? Lie in the report? Covering the truth won't do humanity any good" Rico answered. The Supreme commander then called Mikasa and asked for verification. Even if she hesitated, Rico encouraged her to tell the truth and thus Mikasa told the truth. "But, two times before that, Eren saved my life in his titan form..." Mikasa started mentioning the times Eren saved her. "I wonder, everything that you just said is in the report, but wishful thinking has severely clouded your views reducing their objective value in my judgement. I know why you are taking Eren's side. While investigating Eren's background, I came across a record of an incident from 6 years ago. Astonishingly, when these two were 9 year old, they stabbed three adult robbers to death. After interviewing a few cadets from the 104 trainee corps, I also came to know that Eren finds himself around some very questionable people, one of them being (Y/N) (L/N), who seems to be around Eren Jaegar and Mikasa Ackerman a lot. (Y/N) (L/N) also has a criminal record against her, as she stabbed a Garrison soldier to death at the age of 7, much younger than the incident with Eren Jaegar and Mikasa Ackerman. Their actions are understandable, it was legitimate self defence..." the commander of the military police brigade continued but I stopped listening.

When he finished, people in the court started calling Mikasa and myself titan shifters too. "Commander Nile?" I found my voice calling out to him, acting on its own. Everyone was silenced by the murderous glint in my eyes. "Do you have a daughter?" my voice kept betraying me. I shouldn't be talking. "Yes. What's your point?" he asked. "Then why don't you..." I trailed off as I found Armin's hand on my shoulder, his eyes begging me to stop. "I'm sorry for interrupting." I controlled my urge to speak up. The murmurs of accusations increased after my stupid stunt and that's when Eren lost control and started shouting about how retarded everyone in the court was to think that we were bad people. Armin looked more uncomfortable than ever as both of us knew that Eren and I messed up badly. Just then, I saw Levi get up from his seat and go towards Eren only to land a kick on him. Mikasa got furious at the scene and tried to go save Eren but Armin stopped her. I knew why Armin stopped her because all Levi had to do now was to show the court that he can control Eren. "This is just my opinion, but I've found pain the most effective punishment. The lesson you need to learn right now can't be taught with words, only with action. And you're kneeling which makes you easy to kick." He said in a monotoned voice.

This went on for a while till he showed clearly that he can control Eren. "Someone as skilled as the captain would be able to deal with Eren even in the worst case scenerio." Uncle Erwin explained to the supreme commander. "I see. Can you do it, Levi?" the supreme commander asked Levi. "If you mean killing him, it's no problem. Rather, the problem is, there's no half matters." Levi answered before looking directly at me. "And about that brat, I was planning to take her in my squad anyway since she had good feedback from Shadis, but, if she gets that big mouth of hers open again, I won't hesitate to send her with Jaegar.". Seems like he doesn't remember me. I didn't expect him to because he didn't even know my name back then. He only saw me occasionally at Uncle Erwin's office, reading books on a chair. I didn't question his authority though, as I did mess up.

A few more days later

We joined the Survey corps. Eren was already there and Mikasa couldn't wait to see him. That girl definitely likes Eren no matter how much she denies it and no one is convincing me otherwise. We were choosing our horses when I was called to Uncle Erwin's office. As I entered the office, he said "So, I see you have joined the Survey Corps. Your parents would've been proud of you". " I know Commander Erwin. Your training helped me a lot during the combat stimulated graduation test." I replied. "(Y/N), you don't have to call me command. Just uncle Erwin would do. Isn't that what you used to call me before?" Uncle Erwin chuckled. "Well, I just thought it would be more professional if I called you Commander Erwin. But I'll call you uncle Erwin if you want me to." I replied.

"Well now, I've heard you're almost as good as Captain Levi. Instructor Shadis told me that you were a prodigious student and I mentioned it to Levi. I knew you wouldn't want my influence to move up the rank, so I didn't mention him that I trained you yet. He made the decision from the reports on retaking Trost. Apparently you already have a solo kill of 13 and assists of 9?" Uncle Erwin asked, impressed. "Yes. That's right." I answered with a blank expression. "(Y/N), you need to appreciate your efforts for humanity at times... By the way, wasn't Eren Jaegar on the 104 training Corps with you?" Uncle Erwin asked. "Yes he was. He's one of my friends too." I replied. "Okay then, you may go now. Don't let your emotions stop Levi from killing Eren if things come to that" said Uncle Erwin with concern on his face. This man was like a second family to me as I spent hours training with him every day. He made me as strong as I am now. "You know me, uncle Erwin. Emotions never mattered to me" I replied with a smile and left the office. I went back to the stable and I was given a black horse which apparantly was one of the fastest ones in the stable. Like my old horse at the trainee corps, this was the only one who accepted my bribes of apples. I didn't name the horse because I didn't plan to get attached to it. It, after all, would die in one of the expeditions right?

"Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" someone asked from behind me. I turned around and saw a girl with short brown hair on a horse. "Yes. Why?" I replied with my usual bored face. "I'm Petra Ral from the special operations squad. I'm here to take you to the castle where we are staying now" she told me with a smile. "Okay" I replied and got on the horse. "You don't talk much do you? Anyway, you can buy stuff from the market nearby as there is no market near the castle. I'll come with you and leave for the castle when you're done. " Sure" I replied, even if she accused me of not making much conversation already. I just didn't want to make conversations. I went to the market with Petra, bought loads of female toiletries and a lot of books. "You read a lot don't you?" Petra asked with astonishment on her face. "Yeah, I feel like reading is more productive than talking to people because you can learn things from books and you can enjoy them at the same time" I said shutting Petra up. It might seem a bit mean but I wasn't liking the fact that she was poking her nose in everything I did already. I didn’t like overly friendly people anyway.

When we reached the castle, I found Eren cleaning the stable. "Hey Eren, how's your teeth?" was the first thing I asked him. "My teeth grew back but I'm having a backache because of that clean freak" Eren muttered with annoyance. "Who are you calling a clean freak brat? You're gonna clean the basement for this." said captain Levi coming from the woods nearby on his horse. I went down from my horse and saluted him while he was getting down. "So you're the new girl. They say you're as good as I am. I want to see if you can keep up with the expectations. Spar with me in 30 minutes. Get cleaned by then cause you smell like horse shit." he told me with a stoic expression and went inside the castle. He managed to piss me off but I remained calm. "You are so screwed" said Petra with concern on her face. "Where's the bathroom?" I asked, with my usual straight face but the anger clear in my eyes. What kind of person just randomly says that you smell like horse shit? "Its on the second floor with our room. It's the room to the right. We are room mates!" she said trying to look excited but failing because I clearly intimidated her.

I went to the bathroom taking a shower and replaying all the fighting techniques I learnt from Uncle Erwin during our training sessions. I was a quick learner according to him. When I was done, I dressed in the usual Survey corp uniform and went towards the courtyard exactly 30 minutes later to find Levi on the way. "I see you're very punctual. Atleast I found one good thing in you so far. Let's see how good you are." Levi said with his usual serious face. This was gonna be fun.

To be continued

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