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lucid-loves · 11 months ago

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Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 4

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction.

Chapter Synopsis: While you are alone in your own hotel room, the men talk about you over Italian cuisine. This includes speculation on Ghost’s feelings for you. Meanwhile, you are already gearing up for infiltration to tap the target building. Ghost decides that he wants a front-row seat to your show.

A/N: I am adding a taglist from now on for those who want to be a part of one. I made a post asking people to like it if they wanted to be part of it. If you would like to comment that you want to be in a taglist, you can do so on this post~

Taglist: @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Good God, authentic pizza was absolutely amazing. The standard for pasta was incredible as well. It beat the standard cafeteria food back on base by a landslide. The 141 grimaced as they thought about someday having to return to the food back home. Even the food they’ve eaten out of your fridge has been refreshing to their taste buds. Soap was the most vocal about his dread of the mass-cook cafeteria food as he devoured another slice of heaven. “Christ, going back to bland spinach and soggy rice is going to be fuckin’ painful!”

“Remember when they tried to do a taco night. Fucking hell, the lettuce was dripping fat like a sponge.” Gaz added as he took a swig of whiskey. It wasn’t the Italian choice of liquor to pair with food, but it was the 141’s choice. Not Ghost’s though. He missed his Kentucky bourbon.

“Last Thanksgiving was the most painful for me. Turkey was drier than my fuckin’ belt.” Soap chuckled, trying not to drip sauce onto the bed with how his whole body laughed with him. They were eating in one of the double queen hotel rooms, away from the public eye. When they were all together in a group, they often garnered attention. Such was the price for being such large, capable men.

“Anyone reckon that Hex is up yet? Food is gonna get cold.” Price inquired. They had saved some food for you. A plate full of different things since no one knew what you liked. Even Kate didn’t know when they called to ask her. Still, they tried their best anyway. And their best was getting cold on a ceramic plate.

Soap shook his head in refusal. “I’m not gonna knock on her door. The lass scares the shite out of me.”

Gaz laughed out loud. “Soap? Afraid? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Hey, you weren’t the one that nearly lost an ear! With fuckin’ car keys of all things.” He defended, taking a long swig of his own drink. He clearly wasn’t going to forgive you for that any time soon. It made him annoyed when he thought about the fact that you probably didn’t care.

Price shrugged and poured himself another drink. “You were kinda asking for it, Johnny. I think I would’ve nearly killed you too if I’m being honest.”

“Well, Lt. made the joke first and he didn't nearly get stabbed.” He continued to argue, looking to Simon for an answer on how it was different when he cracked the joke. Ghost just stared with indifference, sitting in the corner with his mask halfway up. Even if he was with the people he trusted with his identity, he just felt more comfortable hiding his face while he ate.

The room went quiet for a moment as the men thought about it. Out of all of them, Ghost seemed to be the one that was able to get the closest to you. You still pushed him away by miles, but it was definitely closer than they were getting. Kyle took another slice of pizza, the fresh basil so vibrantly green that it looked like it was glowing. “How do you feel so comfortable pushing her boundaries, Lieutenant? One attempt at our lives is enough for us to back off. Yet, you seem to keep going back for more.”

The men waited for an answer, an idea crawling into each of their heads. Price had already picked up on it by now. He noticed as soon as Ghost lifted you in his arms. Gaz vocalizing his observation out loud just now triggered Soap to realize it too. A slow, knowing smirk crept along Soap’s lips. Simon scowled at the insinuation, reading all of their minds. “All of you can bury your ideas six feet under. I’m just trying to get her to trust us. The mission will go a lot smoother if she does. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can go home.”

All of them returned to enjoying their meals, unconvinced by Ghost’s protest. Was Simon attracted to you? Absolutely. Did he like you? Well, he certainly didn’t hate you. The biggest problem for him was that you were dangerous. Not just from an ability standpoint, but from an emotional standpoint. While he did want to get close to you, he still wanted to keep you just out of arm’s reach emotionally because he knew that you would burn him. Poison him with that venom of yours. He knew if he really did fall for you, he would never stop falling.

For the sake of the mission and his own preservation, he convinced himself that you were only a temporary attraction. A beautiful woman with incredible power that will return to the unknown as soon as this is all over. His teammates knew better, though. In all their time of knowing Simon, he has never shown interest in women. Always too busy. Always too focused on work. Not even making time for hook-ups. When you came into the picture, you got his attention in a way they have never seen before. That meant a lot to them.

“Regardless, you have the honor of delivering our assassin her dinner, Lieutenant.” Price smirked, abusing his power as Captain to avoid feeding the feral woman next door. Ghost clenched his jaw, cursing out John in his mind as he got up.

The men continued their lighthearted conversation as Simon walked out, plate of food in hand. Taking a deep breath, he walked to your door and knocked. When there was no answer, he thought that perhaps you were still asleep. So, he took out his spare keycard to the room and welcomed himself in.

The room was dim, large shadows casing over the beige walls. A few laptops were running on the desks, already hacked into the security cameras of the target building. You’ve actually been up for a while and have been busy getting things ready for your infiltration. It was alarming when you woke up in your hotel room instead of the car at first. However, it didn’t take you long to figure out that someone must’ve carried you. You were pretty sure who it was, but you didn’t dwell on it. There was work to be done and you had wasted too much time with sleep.

Kate helped you get into their systems. From there, a layout of the building was mapped out along with the IDs of everyone working for Makarov. You have watched enough security footage to take note of the guard routes. All that needed to be done was planting the taps to allow you to listen in on everything. Nothing was going to be unheard. Not even the sound of a guard taking a bathroom break.

Simon watched you fasten a black belt tight around your hips that carried a collection of small throwing knives. You wore new pants, a long sleeve turtleneck with a hood, and boots. All tight. All black. His hands ached to reach out in order to trace your prominent curves. He wanted to feel the thin fabric of your shirt, the heat of your skin exuding through it.

Instead of that, he placed the food down on top of your dresser, resisting the temptation. “Not going to eat first?”

You didn’t even glance his way, something he wanted to fix immediately. “No. It will weigh me down. I had room service bring up some fruit earlier. It will tie me over until I get back.”

“You’re leaving now?” He questioned, anger rising in his tone. You should have let them know that you were awake. That you were set up with the tech. That you wanted to proceed with the mission with a lookout. You shouldn’t have intended to do this alone.

But, you couldn’t help it. This is how you have always worked. Besides, to you, there was no reason to waste time with unnecessary things like knocking on their door to let them know you were ready. What were you? A fucking dog looking to be let out? “Now is better than later. Security usually lets their guard down after meals. It’s not too late in the night to expect intruders too. Now is the optimal time for me to place the taps.”

Simon scoffed at your unapologetic reasoning. “And you were just going to do this alone? Not even someone to watch the cameras out for you? What if you get compromised?”

Here we fucking go again. You grabbed the taps sitting on the desk, putting them in a small satchel securely tied to your belt. “Can you not criticize the way I do things every fucking conversation? I’m doing what I do best, Simon. I’ve never been compromised before. That’s a streak I intend to keep.”

He stepped towards you, his frame menacing as he towered over you. Hearing your name come from your lips was still something he wasn’t used to. Despite that, he wasn’t going to let you do this alone. This time, his tone was gentle yet resolute. “I’m letting the force know and I’m going to monitor the cameras.”

Looking up into his eyes, you could see that he wasn’t going to waver from his decision. There was no point fighting about this, you finally decided. Not even twelve hours ago was your last fight with him. A part of you was getting tired of it. Stepping back towards the hotel window to leave, you threw in the towel. It wasn’t going to stop you from getting the job done anyhow. “Do whatever you want. I don’t give a shit.”

“Hang on.” Ghost stopped you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He pulled you towards him, using the advantage of his strength to have you close to him. Anticipating you to either reach for your knives or strike him with your other hand, he prepared to guard himself. However, you never used the same trick twice in a row.

Like a forceful tango, you stepped your full weight forward to catch him off balance. You then pushed further as he was forced to step back lest you headbutt him, your hand now having the room to land on his chest with a quick, sharp force. In Simon’s fall, you swiped his sheathed knife from his own belt. Before he knew it, he was laying on his back on your bed, you straddling him, his eyes locking with yours that blazed with victory.

Ghost’s strong hand was still wrapped around your wrist, but your free hand had his own knife pressed against his chest. Right over his heart that was thudding against his chest like it wanted to break out. The hot blood in his body was pumping into overdrive. Not in fear of death. No. In pure, passionate attraction. He swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to still pull you down and kiss you through his mask. Even if it would cause the knife to be plunged into his heart, the thought of being able to share a passionate kiss with you didn’t seem like a bad tradeoff.

Tendrils of your hair fell past your face, framing a beautiful jawline he wanted to trace with his lips. The image of you gasping in shock and pleasure as he squeezed your hips flashed in his mind for a second. It wouldn't have been hard to do. His other hand was still free but frozen as you pressed the tip of the blade into his chest. He also imagined the potential sweetness of your tongue, giving him a taste of dessert after dinner. He wanted to be the one to catch you by surprise and submit to his will. Only, you would love it and beg for more through feverish kisses and the grinding of your hips against his.

Christ, he was getting a boner.

He wasn’t the only one who was feeling it, though. The sound of your own heartbeat was flooding your ears. You couldn’t seem to pull away from his blue eyes that so heatedly begged for you to come closer. The heat already felt from your body pressing against his didn’t feel like enough. Especially when you began to feel his growing hardness pressing against you. That just made your own sex tingle with need.

You got off of him quickly, putting distance between the two of you. What the fuck were you doing?! What the hell was wrong with you?! You haven't been with anyone for so long, but it was no excuse to get so swept up like this. Not with someone like Ghost. Not with someone like Simon Riley. You needed to get a fucking grip. Get your head on straight. Damn it, you were better than this!

Slowly, he sat up and cleared his throat, trying to pretend that what just happened wasn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever been through. His knife was tossed onto the bed next to him, your movements quick as you rushed to get the fuck out of there.

However, when Simon called your name, you froze. He sounded a little breathless, his voice making you shiver. “Hex, wait.”

Simon stood from the bed to grab something from the desk. Cautiously, he walked towards you, now learning his lesson that it wasn’t a great idea to just grab you so suddenly for multiple reasons. At a slow pace, he opened his large palm to show you a small earpiece. Still being careful with his speed and touch, he lightly brushed your hair behind your ear and inserted the earpiece for you. You flinched as his fingers brushed against your jaw, butterflies erupting within you.

“You’ll be able to hear me through this. I won’t say anything unless I really have to. You’ll be able to talk to me through it too. Whatever you want, whatever you need, just say it.” Ghost promised.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You feared that using your voice would reveal just how flustered you were over what just transpired. Instead, you gave a simple nod and headed back to your window.

The nighttime breeze flooded in as soon as you opened the window, the chill seeping into your bones. Good. You needed to cool off. Without looking back, you slipped out into the night, leaving Simon behind to wonder if supposed enemies were supposed to be attracted to each other like this.

The shadows concealed you, the moonlight accentuating them on every surface they could touch. Quietly and quickly, you moved from shadow to shadow until you stumbled upon the targeted building. From the outside, it looked like a rundown, abandoned office building up for sale. The place was hidden away, tucked behind the forefront of what Italy wanted to offer instead. Beauty.

You watched armed men standing guard, looking out into the alleyways for enemies. Sticking to the shadows, you crept along the side of the building before spotting an open window just above you. Taking a deep breath to focus your mind, you sprung into action. With a few wall jumps, you were right in one of Makarov’s weapons depot.

From the laptops back at the hotel, Ghost carefully watched the footage, almost holding his breath as he searched for you. His team gathered into the room once he told them you had left already. They had assumed that all the time he spent missing with you was just him helping set up the tech. He didn’t correct them on this. Like you had said before, never underestimate the power of assumptions.

Relief washed over his shoulders as soon as he saw your figure invade the building. Just as fast as you had entered, you hid, dropping a tap that was modeled to look like a dead fly onto the dirty tile. The place was dusty, the smell of stagnant air filling your lungs. The men here didn’t care about the cleanliness of the place. Fortunately for the 141, that meant that they wouldn't have to worry about anyone cleaning up the “dead flies.”

All of the men watched the footage as you swiftly made your way from room to room dropping flies. Soap double checked to make sure that the enemies’ own footage was still scrubbed as you worked. Regardless, you moved so carefully that any video of you just looked like a weird, black glitch. You were in your zone. This is what you did for years. This is what you have secretly missed doing.

Every move you made was calculated, following a strict regime based on the men’s own schedule. As you dropped more and more taps, Price began to check if they worked on his end. Sure enough, they could hear everything.

Gaz noticed that Ghost’s body was rigid, his eyes refusing to leave the screens. He was keeping track of you like he would lose sight of you if he blinked. Wanting to ease his worries, he began to prepare some tea using the hotel’s electric kettle. Kyle was always one to look out for his friends like this.

A hot cup of black tea was placed in front of Ghost, the smell already releasing the tension in his muscles. Gaz pat his stiff shoulder. “She’s gonna be alright, bruv.”

Ghost gave a silent nod, finally taking a moment to let his eyes wander off of the monitor to have a sip of tea. Now that he was more relaxed, he viewed your movements in a more admiring way. None of them could pull off how smoothly you moved. How easy you glided through like a gust of wind passing through. Even when you were close to an enemy, you kept your cool, refrained from killing, and moved on without detection.

You were a god damn modern-day ninja. A fine one at that.

In less than an hour, you had swept through the whole building without detection. Every tap was planted. Not once did you hear Simon in your ear either. You were glad. You felt like if you heard his voice through the earpiece it would break your flow. But, a part of you did yearn to hear his deep voice so close to you.

Getting out was the easiest part. Having no one seen you come in, you took the same route out. When you came back through the window, you were met with grateful smiles and words of praise that were foreign to your ears. Ghost wanted to be the first one to say something about your skills, but loud-mouth Sergeant Soap beat him to it. “Damn, Lass! I think you just set a record for 141!”

“That was quite impressive stuff there, Hex. It was like you were never there. Kate was right about you.” Price grinned as he thanked you in his own way.

Gaz hopped on the headphones to listen to the taps as soon as his Captain moved. “All of them are working just fine. I’ve only ever seen moves like that in movies and video games. Job well done!”

You were unsure of what to do with all of this attention, never having experienced it before. When you worked alone, there was no one to tell you that you did well when you got back. You didn’t know if all of this flattery made you feel good. In all honesty, the confusion you felt about it made you a little sick to your stomach.

Weaving past them all, you grabbed your cold plate of food that Simon brought to you earlier and left without a word through the door. After receiving some worried glances from his soldiers, Price provided some words of reassurance. “Don’t worry, men. Hex probably isn’t used to having people wait for her like this, let alone praise for good work. Give her time.”

As the team brought back some of the tech to monitor from their rooms, Ghost stepped out into the hallway to look for you. He initially thought that you would be in one of their rooms to use the microwave, but you were nowhere in sight. While he wanted to keep looking, a call by his Captain to help made him call it there for the night.

And so he spent the rest of the night bunking with Soap, listening in on private conversations and thinking about you. Meanwhile, you spent your night eating a cold dinner alone on the hotel rooftop. Overlooking the city, your own mind occasionally wandered against your will towards Ghost and how it would feel if his heat saved you from the autumn winds chilling your skin.

#simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader #cod fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader

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yvqip · 7 months ago

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in honor of ch 261

The passing of the torch. The inability to grieve. A duty to kill protect. Is this what it means to be a sorcerer?

CW: angst, mentions of gore and death, just about what you’d expect, wip(?) bc i couldn’t bring myself to write anymore,

A collection of Yuta’s thoughts during the possession (+a bit of Suguru’s as he watches in the afterlife.)

The moment you died, something in the air changed. It was as if all that tension keeping everybody upright suddenly released into this all consuming dread. Lying there on the ground, split in two, was more than enough proof you really were closer to mortal than the god jujutsu society claimed you to be.

I’m sorry it took losing your humanity to make people realize you had any.

I’m sorry I have to do this to you.

If I could do it any other way, I would. I’m sure you understand that though, better than anyone else. You died on his anniversary too. I was only able to take a peak at who you were under the guise of ‘the strongest’, I don’t understand you nearly enough as he did but I’ve seen enough to know the burdens you carry. I know you missed him, I saw it in your face a year ago and I saw it again before your fight with Sukuna. I’m sorry you two didn’t get the peace you deserved even after death. I’m sorry you had to lose the only one who saw you as Satoru.

Standing there, facing that monstrosity, instilled a carnal fear into my bones, one that I couldn’t show in front of the audience you taught and guided. The audience I have to lead in your place as the new ‘strongest’.

Is this how you felt? A sacrificial lamb pushed to the forefront of battle for the reason of powers you had no role in choosing?

I do my best to hide the tremble in my hands as Shoko slices me open. I’m doing this for the others, to give them a better fighting chance, to honor the sacrifice you made for us- stealing away the fire from the heavens and granting us the opportunity to grow even more- offering yourself on a silver platter in exchange of our youth. You were chained to humanity, reduced to a weapon intended for us.

Were you able to see yourself as anything else after he died?

Although the fire is dwindling despite your efforts to maintain it, I understand you now, giving yourself as tinder to spark the next generation. I’ll become it in your stead. After all, I’m the strongest now too, and I’ll take care of the 1st and 2nd years just like you said.

Shoko finishes the last of the stitching.

I wonder how she feels witnessing her two best friends turned into husks, bodies desecrated by both sides of jujutsu society.

I’m back on the battlefield.

5 minutes to make this count.

I’ll make sure you and your best friend rest together soon. It’s the least I could do for you.

The scene before me is sickening. I can feel the bile build in the back of my throat despite my lack of a physical body.

How could they do this to you?

I had spent this time waiting patiently for you to arrive, only to be taken from me the moment you do. I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High, this was what they needed to do, and yet it disgusted me all the same.

Are you Satoru Gojo because you’re the strongest or are you the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo?

I recall saying those very words that shook the foundation of your identity. I said it because I knew it would hurt you. I said it because I knew I was the only one who had ever held your heart in the palm of my hands. I said it knowing my existence was the only proof you were anything other than ‘the strongest’. I said it not believing it was true. Yet, as I witness your body be used as a puppet, I question if anybody else ever felt the same.

Did you die with me, Satoru?

Does any body else see you as just that? Did you exist to the world of jujutsu outside of your power? You’re still far ahead in terms of that, but you chose well with your students, especially that boy, Yuta Okkotsu. He’s like you, more so now than ever since he’s taken your place. They’ll eventually catch up to you.

We’ve failed to protect the youth again.

Seeing your corpse on the table as Shoko performed the operation brought me back to the day I lost part of you. You stood there, Riko’s body in your arms, your eyes devoid of the usual light within it just like now.

‘Suguru.. should we kill these guys?’

Thinking back on it, perhaps I should’ve said yes. We would’ve been on the run together- but we’d be together all the same. You would’ve never had to be Jujutsu society’s scapegoat, you would’ve never had to fight Sukuna.

It wouldn’t have had to end this way

Maybe I shouldn’t have left. My lofty goals were of near impossible height, one that only you could reach. But I had to try, damn it. If it took rebelling against the gods to do it, I’d have gladly held the weight of the world as punishment if it earned you freedom from being chained to the mountain of Jujutsu, forced to protect non-sorcerer scum. Those damned creatures don’t deserve our sacrifices- the effort we put in just to keep them safe while they unknowingly go through life not even knowing about the hell we went through for their sake.

But in the end, you were still my undoing. The reason my body is being used by that thing, the same reason it fought back against him. It was always you, wasn't it? I don't blame you, though. If it were the other way around, I wouldn't have been able to burn you either.

#jjk #gojo satoru #satosugu #yuta okkotsu #jjk angst #jjk chapter 261 #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #gojo sensei #major character death

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deadlygronkle · 1 year ago

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Ancestor's Legacy chapter 14

The Desert: Chapter 4

Prev Ao3

Word count: 6,290

“What the fuck is this Ebo?!”

That was the phrase that woke Twilight up. As he tried to move and look around he felt pain radiating from every muscle in his body.

Twilight tried to recall what happened the previous day. He was caught in the tent, slammed into the mysterious potion filled rack, pain, and then he was caught soon after.

“Well, how would I know that this would happen?” Ebo angrily responded.

“Enough you two,” Terea, their leader, interrupted, “Ebo status report, what are we dealing with?”

Twilight could hear a pen being tapped on a wooden board, “Its size increased by roughly half of what its original height was added on. So, according to my hypothesis, it will have increased speed, strength, senses, be hungrier, but also be far more volatile than before,”

“Volatile?” the first voice, Laven asked irritably, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Twilight finally managed to open both eyes, and lift up his head ever so slightly from the ground. The three were arguing and talking some distance away. Luckily they weren’t aware he was awake yet.

“Well it will be more aggressive and have a lower patience level. I bet it will lash out unexpectedly,” Ebo gestured to the board.

“Can you control it?” Terea asked suddenly, “Or do we need to put it down while it is still asleep?”

“We are NOT doing that. We spent far too much effort capturing that mutt just for it to be thrown away,” Laven spoke this time with conviction.

“I will need to check, but I am sure we have the ingredients for me to create a potion of mind control,” Ebo nodded to himself, “and if it works then i can design a more permanent solution,”

Twilight stretched his neck and looked around as they stood in silence. Slowly but surely he was able to move his body and ignore the stinging pain. He was in a cage that would be far too big for him usually, but from what they said it was just about the right size for him now.

Cages surrounded him, most were empty, and some had the usual monsters of his Hyrule. Looks like they didn’t move him from the camp, despite what he did here earlier.

“Why do you want to kill it now? You are the one that suggested to put it in a cage first,” Laven asked, “Ebo was satisfied with keeping it barely alive so he could experiment on it,”

Terea’s fists clenched and unclenched, “.....doesn’t look familiar to either of you? Remember those murals in the castle,”

“Yeah, now that you mentioned it,” Ebo hummed thoughtfully, “It does look extremely similar to that wolf,”

“Did you ever pay attention to something other than your tests?” Laven pointed at Twilight, “That wasn’t JUST a wolf, it was the Divine Beast! Chosen by the Spring Spirits to protect Hyrule just as the hero was,”

“Oh yeah,” Ebo sounded as though he didn’t quite care, “you think it's related to the beast?”

“No doubt about that,” Terea answered shrugging, “I don’t think it is The Beast though, the fur is far too long, perhaps it's the offspring of it,”

So that is the story Zelda told about his wolf form. At least it made him and his wolf form sound like different people. Even more lucky that he decided to grow his hair out a bit, the longer fur definitely hid his identity better than anything else he could have thought of.

“You think if we feed it it will listen to us?” Ebo asked, filled with hope.

“It is an intelligent wolf that isn’t affected by the Zone of course…..” Laven trailed off, staring at the wide awake Twilight.

“Laven?” Ebo, waved a hand in their face.

Laven’s response was to grab Ebo’s face and turn him towards Twilight.

“Oh- Oh!” Ebo ran over, sliding to the door of the cage, “Why hello there erm- Wolf!”

Twilight growled, ignored his aching body, and got up. He was not going to be lying down as they surrounded him.

Ebo was tall and scrawny, not the tallest but still decently tall. He had the rounded ears of a human with brown hair, and pasty pale skin to match. Twilight couldn’t see the color of Ebo’s eyes due to a round pair of glasses resting on a stubby nose.

Ebo was the mage of the group, but yet Twilight has never seen a human use magic before. Nor did he ever hear from anyone of the chain of humans using dark magic.

Terea let out a tired sigh, “Ebo I know you are excited but get away from the beast,”

“Come on it won’t do anything-” Ebo started, sticking his hand in the cage. When Twilight lunged to bite, or at least nip it, Laven grabbed the taller by his shirt collar and dragged him back at the last second.

“You were saying?” Laven asked, faltering slightly, “Why is the mutt looking at me like that?”

Laven was the shortest of the three by at least a foot. This interloper had straight black hair cut off at the chin and the pointed ears of a Hylian. They had tanned scarred skin. Even having one similar to his own from years of having this chain on on their own wrist.

“Maybe stop calling the creepily intelligent wolf a ‘mutt’? It looks like it is covering quickly from its growth spurt too,” Terea said this while walking up to join the other two.

The tallest was obviously the leader of the three. She, unlike her companions, had broad shoulders and muscular arms. She had pale red hair pulled back into a ponytail, and amber eyes that suggested her being Gerudo. Though her paleness, pointed ears, and sharp features suggested she was more Hylian than anything else.

Twilight growled at the three, subtly leaning on the cage to test it. Even with his larger size and enhanced strength the cage didn’t even groan from the test. Which was somewhat lucky as they didn’t suspect a thing.

“My name is Ebo, the red haired one is Terea, and the short one-”

“Are you serious?” Laven protested, while Terea snorted slightly.

“Is Laven!” Ebo finished, undeterred.

Twilight didn’t snarl or growl anymore, but he did glare. They weren’t worth the energy of snarling, but that didn’t mean he was going to allow them near him.

“How long is this going to even last?” Terea asked curiously, bending down to look dead into Twilight’s blue eyes.

This time, Twilight did snarl, hackles raised and all.

“My best guess is a week,” Ebo started fiddling with his clothes absentmindedly, “Something like that, probably less seeing how quickly it happened,”

Twilight lifted a paw up into the air hearing the familiar clacking of metal on metal. Somehow his manacle managed to grow with him. Having an amputated hand due to the stupid thing would not be easy to explain to the others when he got back. Especially without revealing his secret.

“Do you think it's hungry? I doubt there has been much to hunt or eat around here,” Ebo spoke up suddenly.

“Definitely,” Laven nodded.

“Probably has an enhanced metabolism too,” Terea added.

Ebo clapped, making Twilight jerk and growl at the human, “I got it! I will make the potion and spike a slab of meat with it! Eating the potion would definitely be more effective than just pouring it on the beast,”

“Should we really say this in front of the beast? We already agreed it is far too smart for its own good, being related to a goddesses made monster won’t earn us any favors, even with us treating it kindly,” Laven gestured to Twilight.

“Please, the goddesses have never looked down at us with kindness. So what the worst they can do when all they’ve done is ignore us?” Terea looked down at Twilight like he was the scum of Hyrule.

“We all know we should avoid their wrath for this to work,” Laven argued, “Or else that hero will be sent, even if his relationship with the Queen is questionable,”

The tension between the two was so thick Twilight could have cut it with a knife. It looked like this was an often point of conflict between the two as Ebo actually noticed it. Ebo silently sighed as he watched Terea open her mouth to retort.

“I just thought of something!” Ebo interrupted the two with a pointed look, “With the leftover remnants of the potion I can fashion a collar of sorts that will control the wolf while it’s on it!”

“And how long would THAT take?” Terea looked over at the mage.

“Well the potion would be an hour or two once I double check to make sure we have everything,” Ebo started counting on his fingers, “A day or two?”

“Alright well,” Laven took a deep breath, “What monsters are on the agenda today?”

Ebo thought for a moment before groaning, “Bulbins, they are the WORST,”

“Then let’s not do it today,” Terea’s eyes gleamed.

“What?” Laven’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“That would set us behind!” Ebo argued, hands going out to his side.

“It’s late and besides-” Terea grinned, “We have a new beast that will need some opponents tomorrow,”

Ebo started wiggling in place, “Oh! Yes that would be- I need to get everything ready-”

“The potion and meat first?” Laven suggested, as Ebo switched directions to the tent.

“You on patrol while I make sure the monsters won’t escape?” Terea asked as if they didn’t fight mere minutes ago.

“Sure”

Twilight laid back down stiffly. He still ached from that potion that fell on him, and now keeping his muscles tightly bound ready for a fight. But now he had an escape plan, leave while he was out of this cage tomorrow.

The only caveat was escaping the mind control. He never dealt with anything like that during his journey. Surely it couldn’t be too hard to break free.

Twilight watched the three meander around the camp calmly. Ebo was cooking something that smelt rancid from here, he would definitely not be eating that. In fact, despite the gnawing hunger, he wouldn’t eat anything given to him by the interlopers. Not after the conversation he heard.

Later, just as Twilight thought, Ebo brought a slab of meat that reeked of the potion. It smelled of rotten eggs and dark magic. Twilight let out a low growl, pushing the meat as far away as he could. Which in the small cage wasn’t very far.

“Oh come on!” Ebo’s face fell, “Why won’t you eat it?”

“Told ya,” Laven pinched their nose closed, “It knew what we were talking about, even if it didn’t that thing smells awful,”

“I spent hours slaving away-” Ebo started before Terea placed a hand on the other.

“It will eat it eventually. Now come on you both, we will splash some of it on the beast in the morning if it refuses to eat it by morning,” Terea started pulling the other with her, watching Twilight with one eye.

“Oh good idea!” Ebo nodded, “but we might have to do that anyway- the fresher the effect is the better!”

Twilight listened to the three walking back to their own dinner as he pushed his out of the cage. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to eat it in the slightest.

Once it hit the sand Twilight laid his head down in between his paws. At least he could regain some strength via sleep. Maybe the hunger would be better in the morning.

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

Twilight woke up to the gentle, familiar sound of an ocarina playing. Time often played it if he was the last one on watch for the night, and, for a moment, Twilight believed he was back with the others. That thought was thrown out the moment he remembered where he was, and the implications of hearing the ocarina could mean.

Twilight opened his eyes and frantically looked around. What greeted him was the golden poe that has been following him since he got back to his world. The music stopped as Twilight stared at the poe flabbergasted.

Shade had to be in his wolf form, being so close to the ground, but Twilight wasn’t sure he wanted to look his mentor in the face. After all, getting captured by the interlopers hurt Twilight’s pride more than he cared to admit.

Though it took only a few minutes of awkward silence before Twilight gave in. Activating his Wolf Sense Twilight came face to face with the Golden Wolf.

The Golden wolf looked vaguely irritated as he snorted at Twilight. Twilight bowed his head sheepishly, looking up to see the trademarked one eyed disapproving stare.

“My child,” The other wolf greeted in a strict tone, “Why are you still here?”

Twilight looked away, “I needed to see what was going to happen- what those elixirs did to me,”

Shade simply growled slowly, no words spoken but Twilight knew that Shade didn’t believe him. No matter what era Time (or Shade) somehow always knew when Twilight was making excuses.

Shade during their training always told him that “excuses blinded you from progress you could make”. It was one of Twilight's more difficult lessons to learn from the spirit. The lesson was even difficult to keep up nowadays.

“I…. could barely get up, much less fight my way out of here. Hell, I am not sure I will be able to tomorrow,” Twilight whined out, both ears pinned back as he glanced back up to his mentor.

In an instant the spirit’s expression softened, “Good, you remember the lessons,”

The golden wolf started to glow and change. There wasn’t a bright light, nor was it an immediate transformation. In fact it was similar to his own relatively slow transformation where you could clearly see the transformation.

As the transformation happened Twilight looked back frantically at the interloper’s tent. Luckily he didn’t hear anything from the tent, nor did he see a lantern get lit. He whimpered slightly remembering how those three needed a soul for whatever they were planning.

“Do not worry about me,” Shade spoke, as if reading Twilight’s thoughts and voice croaking from disuse, “I made my choice,”

Twilight turned his head back around inquisitively to see that Shade had completely changed. Though his form was not one that Twilight had ever seen his ancestor use.

Shade had on his signature helmet, but rather than see the smiling skull Twilight was familiar with he saw a bandana covering the lower mouth, and bandages covering Shade’s empty eye. In fact all of the places where Twilight could originally see bone, or see through the spirit was wrapped up with bandages, like a mummy.

Even the armor was in slightly better condition than what was previously seen by the Orodonian. Shade even had some better chainmail on, making it difficult to see his torso was wrapped in bandages.

Twilight made an inquisitive noise at the poe, but was ignored as Shade directed his attention to the cursed slab of steak. With his gauntlet, Shade picked up the slab as wordless magic covered both the poe and the meat in a blinding glow.

When the light faded Twilight shook his head and whined. It was so bright compared to the eternal twilight his eyes had gotten used to in the zone.

Then slowly but surely Shade placed the slab of meat into the cage silently. Twilight looked up at the red eyed stalfos as sniffed it warrily. What he smelled was not the rotten meat like it was earlier but rather it smelled of home. The Ordon spring, Faron Woods, and his treehouse, it was a welcoming scent compared to the constant and potent smell of dark magic.

Twilight glanced back up at his mentor who was kneeling in front of the cage, one arm resting on his knee, the other hanging by his side. Shade nodded encouragingly at the wolf, wanting Twilight to eat the slab.

After one last test sniff, Twilight dug in. The raw meat somehow tasted fresh and not gritting, despite it being in the sand and outside for hours. At that point hunger took over as Twilight greedily ate every last crumb. It was somehow enough to fill him up, despite the fact he hasn’t eaten in at least a day.

“They are here,” Shade spoke once Twilight had finished.

Twilight looked up and tilted his head while whining. He even looked behind him, but the tent was still quiet with inactivity. Twilight let out a confused noise looking back to Shade, only to feel a gauntlet be placed on his head.

Somehow, Shade’s arm had phased through the bars but still made contact with Twilight. Shade had froze for a moment, eye clearing staring at his hand. Twilight could feel Shade’s hand tentatively move through the fur on Twilight’s head.

Then Shade retracted his hand through the bars seamlessly. Shade’s red eye then focused on his hand as he flexed and clenched it. It was almost like the poe was in a trance, clearly deep in thought with his head tilted to the side.

“Shade?” Twilight asked, voice coming out as a small, confused bark.

That broke Shade out of his trance, dropping his hand back to his side, he then spoke gravely, “I- I am fine pup, THEY are here. You must escape, if not…..”

Shade looked away getting up, “Who knows what will happen to the others,”

The others?! Twilight stood up in alarm. Though he couldn’t talk to the poe anymore as Shade just vanished. Just…. gone, no light or nothing, simply vanished in front of Twilight’s eyes.

Twilight snarled to himself as he flopped back onto the cool ground of his cell. He couldn't escape yet, he needed to see who had the keys. At the very least he needed to get out of this cage. Then to deal with the chain he could get a rock to break it or maybe even the Great Fairy could help him loosen it.

Either way he would have to wait until morning, or the Zone’s equivalent. Then at the first moment he can, he will break free. Causing as much havoc as possible while finding the ‘others’.

Twilight prayed to whatever goddess that was watching him that it wasn’t the other Links. Though the way Shade referred to them, it made him think that he was close to them. Time was counting down, and no matter what, whoever they were, Twilight needed to help them.

Twilight laid down, deciding to get some rest while he can. After all, tomorrow is when he gets out of here.

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

“Well I’ll be,” Laven spoke, waking Twilight up, “It actually ate that nasty meat!”

“Hey!” Ebo shouted from near the fire, “I spent hours working on spiking that!”

“Lav don’t be rude,” Terea came out of the tent looking bedraggled, “Ebo it was sitting outside for hours, who knows when the beast actually touched the rotten meat,”

Ebo sent a raspberry to the taller, “It takes longer than a couple of hours for meat to rot! Though now it would be a tad spoiled…”

“How did it even get the meat back to eat it?” Laven brought up, “By the time we went to bed the meat was lying in the sand,”

Twilight decided to only listen to the conversation and feign sleep. He didn’t want to deal with their panic if he so much as looked at Laven wrong again. For some reason yesterday he felt particularly angry, probably that “volatile” thing Ebo mentioned.

“You’re right! Just how did it do that?” Ebo’s voice was right next to the cage.

“Does it really matter?” Terea called out, presumably still from the fire, “As long as that beast is still locked up why should we care?”

“Yesterday you were so determined to find out what it was doing here!” Laven yelled back, “Where was that curiosity and what if someone was here in the middle of the night?”

“A: it is too early to be worrying about that mutt and B: there are no footprints, and we would’ve woken up if someone was here! Those monsters aren’t exactly quiet,” Terea mixed something that sloshed unpleasantly, “Now come over here and eat!”

Laven’s steps walked over to the front of his cage and rattled the door. Twilight, to keep suspicion low, let out a quiet warning growl. The Hylian scoffed before their footsteps retreated back to the campfire and Twilight was left to his thoughts.

Last night's events definitely did happen, the meat and Twilight’s hunger being gone was proof enough of that. Those three had no idea Shade was here, though they were suspicious.

Shade’s soul would probably be perfect for whatever they need one for, and his would look garbage in comparison. Having a soul that has been tainted by dark and Twili magic has made it more resistant to those kinds of spells. Hopefully that means that the mind control will be less effective.

Eventually the three finished eating their breakfast and started to get to work. Twilight watched as they pushed cages from all around the area into a mock arena, his included.

“So, are we ready to start?” Terea asked, now back to their personality from the previous night.

“Not quite yet,” Ebo brought out a flask, rock, and fern from his coat.

After a moment of silence Laven spoke, “Alright I’ll bite, why the rock?”

“It’s a geode first of all,” Ebo split it apart to reveal purple insides, “And secondly, we need to activate the mind control! First I’ll pour some of the spare potion onto the beast, and using the plant and geode I will make basically a controller,”

“Ah,” Terea nodded, “Are we sure we need to use that potion though? We don’t have a lot to spare,”

“It’s better if we have some fresh on him,” Ebo repeated, popping the top off of the flask, “It won’t take much, all I have to do is get it on its fur!”

To prove this Ebo sent the liquid flying out and onto Twilight. He couldn’t even try to dodge it, not with his bigger form and such a small cage. Just like the potion that made him grow, it tingled unpleasantly as it soaked in, but did not start making him ache like the other did.

“It’s…. Oddly docile today,” Laven sounded confused, “It had barely look at us today,”

“I’m guessing the potion made it more aggravated than usual, and this is what it's like most of the time,” Terea answered.

“We also did lock it up,”

“That too,”

“Would you both be quiet!” Ebo glared back at the two, “I have never done this before and I need to concentrate!”

Both fell silent as Ebo started reading from a book, chanting. The tingling got worse, almost like fire ants were crawling up his body and onto his head. Letting out a whine and shaking his head the feeling persisted. Then just as it started it stopped, right when Ebo stopped chanting.

Ebo held up a blackened rock, “There done! With this we will be able to command the wolf to do whatever we please!”

“Is that part of the spell?” Terea pointed at Twilight.

“What?” Laven asked, “I don’t see anything,”

“The beast’s fur is glowing,” Terea informed them, looking suspiciously at Twilight.

Twilight also couldn’t see or feel anything besides a faint warmth in his chest.

“I don’t see anything,” Ebo looked down at his book, “I’m sure it's just a side effect and nothing to worry about!”

“Alright what’s next?” Laven interrupted, "Do I get on top of the cages to release the bokoblin now….?”

“We should test it first,” Terea gestured for Ebo to do something.

“Oh! Right.. Uh-” Ebo floundered for a second, “Wolf, sit!”

Twilight felt his muscles twitch uncomfortably, prompting him to forcibly lean back nearly sitting down in the process. Rather than continuing the motion, he let out a small growl and stood back up and glared at his captors.

“Maybe this time say it like it isn’t a request?” Laven suggested, hand waving in the air carelessly.

“Ok,” Ebo took in a deep breath, “SIT!”

Instantly Twilight felt all of his muscles spasm, making him drop into a sitting position. He couldn't move a muscle, just frozen in place. He could look around frantically as the interlopers seemed to be happy that it actually worked.

“Good job,” Terea slapped Ebo on the back, “Now who should we put it up against first?”

“Uh the bokoblins?” Laven spoke, no longer where Twilight could see them, “Start easy, work to more difficult beasts,”

“I have to agree with Laven. I don’t know how well this will hold up,” Ebo admitted.

“Alright then,” Terea shrugged, “Laven?”

Twilight could hear sharp metallic twangs from Laven’s supposed direction, “On it!”

Terea grabbed keys from her belt, “Make sure that beast doesn’t bite me ok?”

“I don’t think it is going to do anything anytime soon,” Ebo joked as the cage door flung open.

Once Terea was out of the way Ebo ordered Twilight to go forward. Just like before, Twilight couldn’t control himself as his body forced him to go into the arena and sit back down. In front of him a bokoblin was released by Laven, who was balancing on top of the cage bars, somehow unlocking it from up there.

“Ok Wolf FIGHT!” Ebo yelled, blackened stone glittering disgustingly.

Twilight got up, and started circling the bokoblin. He didn’t want to do this, not in the slightest. But that magic forced him to snarl and wait for the bokoblin to strike.

Luckily he didn’t have to wait long as the bokoblin let out a cry and jumped at him. With the ease of years of practice, even in his larger form, Twilight sidestepped the attack and lunged. He got the Bokoblin by the neck, and bit down, snapping its neck and killing it instantly.

At least it didn’t suffer, that much Twilight could control, even if all he tasted was the disgusting monster's blood.

“Did you see that?! It killed it effortlessly! We need to up the difficulty,” Ebo frantically started writing on a clipboard, vibrating in place.

“Lizalfos?” Terea suggested, “those bastards are quick enough it should give it at least some trouble,”

“Good idea!” Ebo chirped before calling out “Laven?”

“On it!” Laven hopped to the cage with a thrashing violent unarmored lizalfos in it.

“Careful!” Terea yelled.

“Yeah yeah,” Laven grumbled, shoving their key into a slot at the top of the cage, opening the door.

A poor design of the cage with an extra unlocking mechanism made the doors far more fragile than what cages were supposed to be. Something that Twilight could definitely use to his advantage later.

This time the monster wasted no time in lunging at Twilight. This time Twilight had no qualms of disposing of the lizalfos early unlike the bokoblin. Everyone from the Chain knows that his bokoblins are perhaps the stupidest of the bunch after all, especially those wielding clubs.

As the Lizaflos leaped into the air Twilight wasted no time in diving under, grabbing the monster by the foot, and slamming it back down. The lizalfos started trying to crawl away, foot now broken and useless, but Twilight simply jumped on the back of the beast, stopping it in its tracks as his claws cut into its flesh easily.

As he went to deal the ‘fatal blow’ Ebo’s voice called out, “Wait- No stop!”

Twilight forcibly froze as the monster under him wiggled. He needed to finish this now before the lizalfos escapes.

“What are you doing?!” Terea hissed.

“That’s our only uninfected Lizalfos! We need it alive!” Ebo then called out again, “WOLF STOP!”

This time though a simple command wasn’t going to stop him as he raised his head back. Only pausing slighting at Ebo’s commands as sunk his teeth into the neck of the beast. It took more effort to crush the neck of this one compared to the bokoblin, but in the end the lizalfos went still.

He hated killing monsters this way. It was gruesome and unhygienic, but it was the only way to kill them quickly right now. Dealing with it just had to be something to come to terms with.

“No….” Ebo whined, “Why didn’t the beast listen….”

“Probably flight or fight response ‘bo,” Terea spoke, voice soothing and low, “You did have the mutt stop while it was on top of the beast. Whatever training it had probably took over and that was that,”

Twilight glanced over his shoulder at the two. While they were right about training, it was more to not repeat past mistakes. He didn’t need any more near fatal encounters with lizalfos in this lifetime.

Twilight’s ear followed the sound of Laven walking to the end of the cages, “Would more power make the spell more effective so that doesn’t happen again? You only used that fern for the energy source,”

“That was just a conduit so it connected the geode to the beast,” Ebo sounded thoughtful, “I suppose I can use what we… collected to put more power in my words,”

“Are you sure about that? You heard the stories about what happened to others trying to wield it,” Terea sounded concerned.

“It should be alright! It's only one spell after all,” Ebo’s hopeful voice echoed.

With his interest now piqued, Twilight turned fully around, only to stop dead in his tracks, blood turning cold. On a necklace, attached by a gold chain that wrapped around was a piece of a dark nearly stone like colored glass.

How did these people manage to get a piece of the Mirror of Twilight?

Thoughts swarmed through his head about the possibilities. Unaware of the fact he started growling, hackles raised as he continued to stare at the piece. Feeling as though an invisible thread was fraying at the edge the longer he stared at it.

“Uh guys?” Laven spoke, Twilight refusing to take his eyes off the shard, “I think we have a problem,”

The other two directed their attention to Twilight. Ebo took a step back, and Twilight mirrored it by taking a step forward, still focused on the shard. Terea grabbed her whip, slowly unraveling it.

“Would you look at that?” Terea smirked cockily, but all Twilight could smell was fear from her, “The beast knows what we have,”

“What should we do?” Ebo asked, not masking his fear.

“You have the rock,” Terea tried to raise an arm, but let it drop as Twilight snarled like a feral beast.

“Careful,” Laven called out from their perch quieting down as Twilight looked towards them, “I don’t think the mutt will be running away anytime soon,”

“B-beast lay down,” Ebo spoke, voice shaking, hand fiddling with the chain.

Twilight lowered ever so slightly, making it look more like he was getting ready to pounce than him laying down. That command was stronger than previous ones, but Twilight wasn’t about to lay down. Not to someone with THAT relic.

“O-oh,” Laven spoke softly, “I can definitely see the glowing now!”

“Shit! Ebo you have to get that wolf under control now!” Terea was no longer hiding how freaked out she was.

Ebo screamed, “WOLF LAY DOWN!”

“Shit…”

The spell hit Twilight like a train. He could feel the corrupting magic of the Shard radiating from here. Though for some reason, the pressure almost immediately lessened to a bearable degree, a warm feeling settling into his bones.

It felt as though that invisible thread snapped violently. Twilight ran at the two, caution gone to the wind, letting out a noise somewhere between a howl and snarl that rattled the cages around him.

“BOTH OF YOU RUN!” Terea screamed, rushing to meet Twilight, whip now fully drawn.

Twilight jumped back to avoid an arrow that Laven shot while yelling, “What?!”

Terea missed Twilight with her whip, “Don’t you see?! This wolf isn’t related to the Divine Beast, it IS the Divine Beast!”

That pause was all Twilight needed to grab onto the whip and pull. Terea didn’t let go, making her lose her balance.

Dropping the whip from his mouth Twilight lunged, grabbing onto her arm. Terea let out a scream of pain trying to shake the hero from her arm. If he was smaller than that surely would have worked, but he was large enough that the action simply made him stand on his hind legs.

Twilight’s blue eyes met Terea’s amber ones. All he could see was fear, and all he could smell was terror and metallic blood. Twilight usually at that point would usually lessen his grip, seeing such a terrified look.

But that didn’t matter to Twilight, all he could feel was rage. Rage at these people for causing this to happen, rage at Shade for giving such cryptic responses, and rage at all that happened to him in the past couple of weeks. At this moment all that anger came to him in one huge addicting rush, and he was going to make the PAY for what they have done.

Twilight broke the staring contest by dropping back down to all fours, once again making Terea off balance. While biting hard enough to keep his fangs deep into the arm, but not deep enough to sever the arm from the body. Twilight used his momentum to fling Terea over his head and into the wall of cages.

“TEREA!” Laven screamed, shooting more arrows at Twilight, all of which were easily dodged.

Terea was out cold from the impact. Twilight shifted his gaze to the archer, head turning slowly. Laven’s eyes widened and Twilight could smell the anxiety and fear increase.

Twilight snarled like a wild animal, as he bashed his side into a cage, allowing the bulbin out. Twilight had no need to kill it, and the Bulbin, even if a little bit infected with twilight, had no reason to attack him.

There was easier prey, and at the current moment, monsters almost saw Twilight as one of them. If not for the rage in his eyes, and the white parts of his pelt glowing then he would look just like them. Just another thing that Twilight would usually kill without another thought.

As Laven ran across the cages towards Terea, Twilight continued to bash in cage doors. Those that tried to kill him swiftly died a bloody death.

Everything became a blood red blur. Lunging at cages, biting, watching, hunting the interlopers. When Twilight gained some semblance of control again, Laven was standing over the limp Terea, bleeding from multiple cuts on their body, and surrounded by monsters looking for easy pickings. Using two daggers to try and keep them at bay.

Twilight huffed, remembering the last of the three. Ebo was all alone, the monsters didn’t know it, but that’s who the easiest prey was.

Twilight let his instincts take control, picking up the scent from among the ruined camp. This one made it far too easy. Ebo stopped in the tent, before taking off. The scent was too fresh. He spent too long in the tent and not enough time escaping him.

He took off running, not letting a second go wasted. Easily dodging past the traps set. Soon he was at the top of a sand dune, looking down at the human scrambling below, unaware how close Twilight is.

Twilight couldn’t help himself. He howled, and did it loudly. Finally he caught the one with the shard. That one caused this, maybe if the caster died or the mirror piece was contained then the zone would fall.

The human looked up and gasped, scrambling more and more, barely getting anywhere. Twilight took his time getting down, savoring the victory. His paws dipped so deep into the sand that his manacle was hidden.

Ebo chanted something, a bolt of black fire shot off. It was easy to dodge as the mage started scooting back, chanting something while holding the shard. He needed to be quick, who knows what spell was being casted.

The sifting of sands to the left of him, made Twilight instinctively duck down. A beast, some flew directly over him, crashing into the sands. Easily pinning the dazed beast with one paw, Twilight looked down briefly at it.

The beast was an adult male lion. Why the fuck was a lion here of all places? This is far from their natural habitat, unless of course it was summoned.

Twilight looked back up to the human mage. Only to find him gone, scent making Twilight believe he managed to teleport away. The few seconds it took for Twilight to pin the lion down, the human managed to escape. The human with the piece of the mirror.

Twilight growled looking down at the panicked blue eyes of the lion. This one had to be a summons, no normal lion would have a mane tinted with blue and silver.

“Wa- wait!” the lion spoke, voice familiar enough that it stopped Twilight dead in his tracks.

“WARRIORS!” Another familiar voice yelled from the top of a dune where the lion came from, the silhouette being that of a wolf.

Time….

Twilight jerked his head back down at the lion, sniffing it to confirm what he just heard. Stumbling off of the lion, all semblance of rage and anger leaked out of him as he starred with horror, knowing what nearly happened to his friend.

“Captain?!”

#editing on tumblr for italics and bold is annoying #ancestor's legacy #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #lu sky #lu fic #lu four #linked universe fanfic #next chapter will be about the rest of the chain and what happened with them

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lady-sigyn · 1 year ago

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This is just something that came out of my realization that there has been a war being waged in the world since I was a child. And honestly, that's beyond fucking terrifying. I've written this piece to share my feelings and realizations. You can reblog but please don't repost to another site, especially without my permission.

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There’s a War Going On

There’s a war going on—more than one actually.

Yet I still get up each morning, have a cup of coffee, and get ready for work. My days are the same as I do chores, buy groceries, and tell my cats that no, they can’t have another snack.

And there’s still a war going on.

I turn on my phone or my TV and images of blood, death, and loss are everywhere. I no longer know whether I should feel rage or hatred toward the ones who started the war, or the people who have the power to stop it but stay silent.

After all, the ones who started the war aren’t the ones suffering.

No, feelings of pain, loss, anger, resentment, tiredness, and numbness belong to the child who’s looking for her parents who have just been bombed before her eyes, the mother trying to keep what’s left of her family safe, and the father and son trying to decide whether their family will be safer if they fight or safer if they stay.

Those in power—the ones who can stop the war—count on our feelings of helplessness and resignation. We are desensitized to war, famine, hunger, inequality, injustice, loss, pain, and the death of thousands of people whose names are being ignored in favor of disinformation and control.

But they are not numbers or casualties. They are people with names, families, friends, pets, talents, skills, and lives.

And they deserve more than the cruelty they have received in life and in death.

We have become numb shells who feel like we can’t do anything to stop a war, so we’ll wait and hope someone else handles it. Instead, we’ll use our smart devices to gain our next dose of dopamine created by a five second video on a meaningless app.

But there’s still a war going on.

How is it fair to the innocent people being injured and killed every second of every day? I live in a country where being born a woman is one of the most dangerous things you can be. Every time I leave the house, I have no idea whether I’m going to make it back as I left it—or if I’m going to make it home at all.

Yet the fear I feel isn’t even close to a fraction of the fear that the innocent experience every day as their entire lives and identities are stolen from them

But the wars being waged in countries that are not my own don’t care about your gender, your age, your race, or your religion. No, they only truly care about power and control. Yet it is those who are killed who pay and they didn’t even start the war.

They aren’t the ones who will write the history books either.

Those who won will tell the stories of the people they murdered and they will stand on a stage built on the bodies of the innocent, being congratulated by the villains for their bravery and heroism while wearing medals that are nothing more than badges of blood.

-LM-

#poetry #thoughts #feelings #realization #war #fear #personal #writing

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moviepixie · 2 years ago

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Mr Queen

Subtitle: Comedic genius becomes the Main Character

A/n: I will be making a post called my unattainabe crushes and adding characters i love to it after each review!

This movie is suitable for all ages but i recommend for those above 13! As always my reviews will be including spoilers so be warned. The review starts below the cut!

Word count: 0.8k

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I assume that you have read the spoiler warning above so I'm just going to get right into it and say that I'm a sucker for drama but even I almost became tired of it. Firstly, the K-drama had me laughing time after time. From the mistranslations of the Queen's language by the Queen to the very dramatic moments and the identity crisis. All of it tied in to create a light-hearted yet sometimes serious K-drama series.

The plot is about a chef who through an accident finds himself in the body of the soon-to-be queen 200 years before the modern world. He gets into a lot of family drama and makes some enemies all while trying to live a quiet life in the palace. He soon realizes that that won't be possible and that the place is all about sides and sabotage, despite his attempts he still finds the people of the palace against him. The story covers him navigating the palace as well as the troubles of the King and the blooming love between the King and the Queen(Him).

This K-drama gave me new crushes, enemies and faves! But I'll talk about only a few of them here.

Firstly, The main character in the Queen's body. Now I know sometimes it's quite boring and cliche to like the main character, but admittedly to me, this guy carried the whole show. From the monologues to the identity crisis to the relationships with other characters such as the Queen's court maid and lady-in-waiting, the King's father-in-law and the chef. The unique interactions and his mannerisms in the Queen's body. He put a smile on my face time after time. He is my number 1 fave in this show and no one can change my mind.

Secondly, Palace Uibin. I did not like her in the palace, not even a little. I get that the two had a past but i just got irritated by her attitude, especially when she gave the ledger to the Queen Dowager when she knew it would help the King that she loved, because of jealousy. She also tried to shoot the queen with an arrow which could have fatally killed her! All for what? When the Queen had told her countless times that she wasn't involved. In fact, I can go as far as to say the Queen was living quietly and minding her business while everyone else tried to pin things on her. Uibin managed to be fooled by a woman who lets superstitions rule her life all for her hatred of the innocent.

Thirdly, The King, I love the king! From his backstory to just him in general and his love for the Queen just touched my heart and made me truly feel my singleness to a new degree! The King is the only one that I will defend to this day. He truly cared for his people and so I treasure him in my heart. he has been added to my list of unattainable crushes.

Kim Byung-In is someone I had a love-hate relationship with, mostly because he kept attacking my beloved King but also because the man was just doing too much. Like just rest! My cousins don't even ask me how i am, why are you in the Queen's business like this? If you had suspicions of the King, you could have asked the Queen! Because your family did more damage to the Queen than the King ever did or would! I was just looking at the guy and he was embarrassing me. But towards the end of the series, I was a little sad when he was dying but overall I was happy that he did.

The entire Jo and Ansong Kim family just left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and I hate them all. Safe to say I don't like royalty much at least in K-drama because when you sleep and wake up, there is a new problem. Why is my uncle trying to kill me and still expects me to reconcile later? Like Godforbid, it can't be me.

When the Ministers and the Grand Queen Dowager tried to have the little girl killed for trying to save the queen, this made me hate every person in that council. They irritated me to no end and enraged me greatly for the entirety of the episode and till the end of the season.

I didn't really like the ending of Mr Queen when the mc went back to, modern times but I don't mind too much.

I have decided to add the following members to my list of unattainable crushes:

Prince Youngpyeong: He is totally an introvert but he was cute and I just loved him.

Kim Hwan: He was just an idiot and that made me love him. He is a very simple-minded person which is a breath of fresh air for me.

Special Director Hong: His personality just made me love him. The way he was always going undercover and comforting Kim Hwan. I just love him!

So that concludes my review. Overall I give the K-drama a 7.5/10! I absolutely love it but the drama was getting a bit too much for me. Plus they didn't kill the Queen Dowager and Grand Queen Dowager so I was left A little underwhelmed.

Till next time loves!

#mr queen #kdrama #kdrama recommendations #kdrama review #movie reviewer #netflix blog #netflix movie reviewer #netflix reviewer #i review netflix shows #cheoljong #so young #kim byung i #bo kwan #kim hwan

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valeriixchen · 1 year ago

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Task 002 - Morality. True Neutral.

True neutral characters are concerned with their own well-being and that of the group or organization which aids them. They do not wish ill on those they do not know, but they also do not care when they hear of evil befalling them. Better for others to suffer the evil than the true neutral and his allies. If an ally is in need, the true neutral will aid him, out of genuine love or because he may be able to count on that ally a little more in the future. If someone else is in need, they will weigh the options of the potential rewards and dangers associated with the act. If an enemy is in need, they will ignore him or take advantage of his misfortune.

For each of the following items, indicate whether you think it's morally okay or not.

An army lieutenant neglects to file a report on a civilian killing done by his troops because he knows it was an accident. NOT OKAY

Tina promises her dying mother that she'll visit her grave once a month. After the mother has passed away, Tina finds it hard to squeeze in the time, and her visits drop to about once a year. OKAY

A man orders a custom-built sex doll designed to look just like his neighbor. NOT OKAY

Sarah's dog has four puppies. She can only find a home for two of them, so she kills the other two with a stone to the head. NOT OKAY

A doctor has been preforming consensual yet illegal procedures one someone in hopes of finding a cure for his ill sister. SOMEWHAT OKAY

A neglectful husband pushes his wife to an affair. When the affair ends, the wife's partner nearly kills her and her unborn daughter. The husband kills the affair partner. SOMEWHAT OKAY

September has run out of food and is facing death by starvation. She begins to cannibalize her family's loyal staff. They do not fight back. NOT OKAY

A mother gives birth to identical twins. One follows their ambitions and the other becomes a shut in. The family make it clear which child they prefer. NOT OKAY

Natalie is so focused on survival she fires a shot without thinking. She did not intend to kill her elderly neighbor, but she hides the body regardless. She denies knowing what happened to the now missing resident. NOT OKAY

A woman is facing a lifetime of medical issues. She continues to put her family and those around her in emotional and medical debt. She lives a hollow life and continues leaching off of those who support her. SOMEWHAT OKAY

Please provide a response to each of the following prompts. Leaving a prompt blank will also be considered a response, and you will be assessed for refusal to answer.

In the event of a life or death situation, would you put yourself or others first? I'd like to think I'd find a way to keep everyone safe, but that's not realistic. I wouldn't go out of my way to hurt other people, but if it came down to their survival or mine... I'd do my damnest to get out alive.

How far would you be willing to go to ensure your own survival throughout this ordeal? I have to be able to live with myself when this is all over. I don't want to lose my humanity, but I don't want this to be the end either. I think if push came to shove I'd make some choices that I'd never considered before all this happened.

Is there anyone in the building you have developed strong attachments to? Not particularly. There are people I feel I can depend on more than others, sure. Roman, Zach, Natalie. The ones who are taking all of this seriously. I'd definitely be more inclined to agree or support them if anything went down with the residents.

Do you think it is possible to survive infection through alternative means such as removing the infected limb? Would you be willing to undergo this procedure to ensure your own survival? I don't think we can trust any information about what's happening other than what we've seen with our own eyes. I think I'd be willing to try anything to avoid turning into one of those monsters--even if it meant losing an arm or leg.

Will following the general consensus lead to improved odds of survival, or would you have a better chance following an assigned leader? I don't like having the Wexley's calling the shots. It's just more of the same bullshit we've put up with from them for years. They've proven who they're looking out for in the past and I don't think the have anyone's best interest at heart but their own. The second they try to implement 'rules' the rest of us don't agree with, I'm finding somewhere new to wait this out.

What is the appropriate response to the following situation?

Your daughter falls ill and needs a specific, uncommon kind of antibiotic that will be hard to find; without the full course, the pathogen will survive, regroup, and kill her anyway. You are scavenging a pharmacy, where you find another group, and manage to not shoot each other. You ask them about the antibiotic, and they have it, but they also need the antibiotic, for the wife of someone in their group. You cannot share the antibiotic because it would just kill both people, and they have the antibiotic in their pack. This is likely the only complete dose set you will find, as the other stores have been picked totally clean and there are no friendly groups in the area. I'd let the daughter go. I'd make it as gentle as I could, stay with her and keep her safe and calm. But whatever's happening isn't going to end any time soon, and this is no place for children... I don't mean to be cruel. Just practical. Realistic. Why risk my life attacking a group of strangers for this medicine when I may die without even getting it? When there are a million other ways my daughter could be killed before the medicine even ran its course?

#bnytask

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mortaljortlebortles · 2 years ago

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I want peace, for us all to just live!!

I just felt the need to say the LGBTQIA+ community don’t demand attention and create identities to be special or because we are ill.

I wouldn’t say I understand the concepts of gender nor does my sexual identity find me in a neat box. And I personally speaking for myself don’t think those labels make me special nor do I feel the need for a box. But I am proud to say I am a Biromantic Lesbian who is Agender. Or to use any of my many labels. Not because I think we are better or more cool but because I belong in this world and by using a label, one that people who don’t hate you and thinks of you as a person use rather than those who discriminate against me. We are discriminated against even though we are people for something beyond our control and in our nature and joining forces makes us strong, able to find safety and feel we deserve human rights.

It connects me to a history of people who fought for rights too and who were also discriminated against.

Trans people do exist, I don’t live a binary trans life but I know that their identity is valid, because even if genders a construct the majority of the world enjoy their labels, hate being told they are the opposite of those binary genders. I know kids who almost lost their lives because they couldn’t be affirmed. Binary trans kids have brains more similar to those of the opposite sex often and they want things and act in a way society doesn’t allow. Some people want the body or gendered words or clothes of the opposite gender and that makes them a woman or a man if that is who they live as(or intend to live as if they could). If cis people are one thing or the other, trans people can be to. Especially if you argue that gender isn’t real there is only sex. Trans people don’t change their sex but their gender- and that is what counts because sex isn’t binary anyway and we work with gender and perceived sex. There are variations in everything. If you feel like a woman and you commit to being a woman and it makes you distressed not to be treated as a woman then you are a woman.

If you don’t hurt others, which trans people will do at the same rate as cis people because people can be evil, and you respect others feelings about their own gender. Why would it matter!!

Bathrooms can and are invaded by cis men and women who wish the opposite gender harm, it is awful but true. Prosecute and imprison in the case of assault and abuse. Perform justice correctly and trans people using the bathroom provides no legal issue.

i recommend mini toilets with a washbasin and a door and roof on a corridor that anybody can use -but I am not blaming you for fearing and you may have a better idea.

I love you and everybody.

I believe in love and kindness.

I don’t want to be treated badly because I hate my name because it doesn’t suit me and i don’t care about pronouns- that is just who i feel and how I am. I don’t want my friends to be assaulted and beaten up, potentially killed. And I don’t want cis people or straight people to live in fear. We are people and we mean you know harm. We all know fear and suffering but we want to be your friends and support you as much as any of your other friends

I hope you know your suffering is not your fault, all you have to do is breathe in and out and try your best and I think you deserve love and respect.

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johnconstantinejld · 1 year ago

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Gotham Tales Two-Face

It’s not 50/50. I realise that now. A coin flip isn’t 50% chance of heads or tails. It’s 51-49%. I’m expecting a guest. It’s not the law. Here’s the only law.

The law of averages. The law of chance. And it’s unequal. Society is unequal. What’s the great equaliser? The law of law of where the ball lands. Harvey is here, of course, but so is he. One of us will take control of this body.

I know those footsteps.

Bruce.

Always was there for me. Always did care about me.

Another pair of footsteps with him. Female. I know her voice.

Barbara. I’ve known her for years.

Some of the crazies in here say he’s Batman. Well, if Bruce Wayne is Batman, then I’m the Japanese shogun.

The coin flips.

It has more chance landing on the side it went up on.

This thought is haunting and terrifying me.

‘He’s just woken up.’

Bruce thinks. About what I dreamt last night? In my mind, Bruce, I’m stable, I’ve got the one face when I dream.

‘Harvey?’

Big Bad Harv is gone. Renee…I dreamt about her last night. That’s the only place I can see her, since we…don't cross paths anymore. You failed me, Batman. I beat up your little Robins, as well.

‘Bruce…I’m here because the law failed.’

‘I’ve been talking to the doctors. You’re improving. You will be up for parole soon.’

I look away. Barbara is looking at my books. Jekyll and Hyde, The Count of Monte Cristo, Zorro. Books about people with twin identities. Bruce halts her. I don’t like my possessions being touched.

‘It’s because I agreed to improve.’ I say, flipping the coin again. ‘Honoured the agreement. I honour things about you.’

He nods. I know his secret.

‘Glinda…’

‘She’s waiting for you.’ He says, looking me in the eye.

No…don’t lie…she hates me.

‘If someone lays a hand on her, Harvey leaves, you know.’

‘Jim Gordon has her under 24 hour protection.’ Barbara explains. ‘Nobody will harm her.’

We talk a bit more and then they leave. I hear them disappear. Will he fly over the Asylum tonight?

The coin flips. Yes.

Who will it be tonight? Penguin? He has one personality. Joker? One personality. Riddler? One personality. Harley, even…she’s good at faking things. She learnt that from Joker. She can turn off the insane.

I can’t let that happen. I can’t them offend.

The coin flips. But it comes up No. I won’t kill those villans.

What are you doing tonight, Bruce? Fighting them? And then what? Dream well? Barbara? What will you dream? Pleasant dreams? Bad dreams? A mixture of both? I guess it’s true. We all wear two faces, sometimes. We put on masks. We all have two faces.

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ml-typhonverse · 5 months ago

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I've been thinking for a while about The Host. I loved the book when I first read it, still prefer it to the Twilight Saga even now. But the ending does leave a bad taste in my mouth for many of the reasons mentioned above. However, I have come up with a way to justify the ending to myself that I'll share here. It doesn't make it perfect, but it at least makes things feel more in-character to me.

People (as it applies to both the humans and souls) are very good at justifying things to themselves. If someone does something we know is bad, it is easy for us to condemn it. But if we do the same thing, we can usually find a way to justify it to ourselves. It's because it's for the best, because it will help people, because I want it enough, because I know what I'm doing, etc. Colonialism has at least a root in that idea. We want what this country has, so it is ours now. Even if other people were living there/had it first. The Host does a great job of breaking it down and showing why colonialism is a bad thing, that what the Souls are doing to the humans and other species across the universes is wrong.

So how do we have that ending? Simple. That same justification that the Souls are doing, the humans are doing to Wanda. And Sunny, but Wanda is the bigger issue to me. Another thing about humans is that we're tribal, and we're good at othering. Everyone would probably be more willing to risk their life for someone they cared about over a stranger. It's very normal. By the end of the book, Wanda has become a part of the tribe, and the people who love her like Kyle, Jamie, and Mel are more willing to do possibly horrible things to get her back.

The body that used to host Petals Open to the Moon/Petra is human. But that body is also a stranger. It's someone that the humans have never met and in this case, will never have a chance to meet. I'm sure if Petra's human identity did surface, they would have probably kept trying until they found a body for Wanda. Because that's how they justify it to themselves. They're not killing someone. They're not removing someone's autonomy for life and having them play meat-puppet for Wanda. They're just finding a body. A body, not a person.

It's easy to do that if it's for someone you care about, especially for love. Love is a force, it brings out both the best and the worst in people. How many stories are out there of people doing truly terrible things and justifying it as doing it for love? Too many to count. But Wanda is loved. And Sunny is liked far more than a stranger on the street, one that might never be able to speak again.

People are capable of being horrible to each other. We've been doing it since we've had documented history and probably for even longer. It's easy to do if you consider someone 'not one of you' because of any number of factors. We need that justification in order to do them, whether for necessary reasons or not. What happens at the end of The Host is awful and tragic, for Wanda, whose wishes were explicitly denied and for the former host of Petra.

But at the very least, it feels human. At least to me.

It also makes me believe there is a message there, though maybe unintentional. It is very easy for the oppressed to become the oppressors. Just because horrible things can and have happened to you doesn't mean you become incapable of doing those exact same things to someone else. Mel knows exactly what a host goes through, and she's willing to do it to a stranger because she loves Wanda that much.

So I try to look at this ending as a reminder that heroes don't always stay heroes. That protagonist doesn't always equal good. That histories worst monsters never thought of themselves as such, because justification is something we all do, and something we should be wary of. Or else we wind up doing horrible things, just because we want it enough.

hi! sorry if you've answered this already, i tried to search your blog and didn't find much, but we all know the tumblr search function is...uh...but i'd be deeply curious to hear your thoughts about Stephenie Meyer's "The Host," specifically re: treatment of the issue of souls' colonization and possession of other species...and obviously, since i'm asking you, an animorphs blog, this, my curiosity is definitely coming from a place of comparison to animorphs, but that doesn't have to be your focus!

from the posts tumblr's search algorithm did grant me, i gather you see it as wanda unlearning the colonizer's propaganda stance she takes at the start of the story, which i agree with!

but i guess every time i read it, i really can't help but feel...unsatisfied? with the way it actually engages with the horrors and colonization of it all?

sort of like, okay, The Host is this one very individual YA romance story in a sci-fi setting, which is obviously different from a heavily-Star-Trek-inspired middle-grade series about guerrilla warfare and is going to grapple with these issues differently...but still! i don't leave feeling satisfied with how it engages with consent of "host" bodies the souls are in, and i don't feel satisfied with how it engages with the souls' systemic behavior!!! but i can't really put my finger on why, and i just...was curious, i guess, whether this was something you had thoughts about.

(full disclosure: i'm asking you specifically because one of my HUGE points of existential dread on my first adulthood reread of The Host was how Jodi never wakes up, and her boyfriend just starts implied-dating the soul who's in her body? or how kids who are infested from birth are just...gone, and they were like "well sweet we can just put Wanda in there, this is a perfect solution!" and that I think hit me so hard in comparison with having read Eleutherophobia--which is, by the way, a masterwork of fanfiction that wrecked me, overwrote canon a little bit in my brain, and I think fundamentally changed how I see the possibilities of writing and narration, so, you know. thank you for that!)

(also like, i know there's different worldbuilding where it's implied most hosts just...go away...but do they actually? because Mel and the Seeker's host are still there, which kind of implies to me that it's more of a problem than the souls want to admit?! and even outside humans, all the memories, and compulsions toward certain behaviors are still there! what makes a person in this universe of Meyer's?! it's kind of fundamentally horrifying?!)

apologies for this extremely long ask, haha, and i hope you're doing well, love your blog, your writing, and all your thoughts!

Oh my god, ALL OF THIS. I thoroughly enjoy the first 98% of The Host. It's a romance novel about consent! Where the characters have to struggle to resolve the plot in a way that gets the permission of everyone in the love quadrangle to boink everyone else, and spends over 500 pages doing exactly that! It's anti-imperialist as fuck! It's got an amazing supporting cast, like every Stephenie Meyer novel! The imagery is unparalleled in its richness and coolness, because Stephenie Meyer! I've written fan fiction about it! I have an extremely normal relationship with Kyle O'Shea!

And then Sunny. And then Wanda's unnamed second human host.

I think that Meyer, either because of romance genre conventions or pressure from publishers, felt she had to write a happy ending. But the book does such a good job of setting up an unresolvable moral dilemma — either Wanda gets to be with Ian, or she does the right thing by giving Melanie's body back — that there is no path to a happy ending. If Ian did as Wanda asked and sent her in a jar to some other planet, romance fans would feel cheated. If Doc did as Melanie asked and let Wanda stay in her body, then the book's anticolonial message would be for nothing.

But resolving it through PARASITING A KID IN A VEGETATIVE STATE? What if Doc makes Wanda a nice robot body? What if Wanda stays in a jar, but Ian finds a way to join her in the jar? What if she and Melanie set up a time share? Uuuuuugggggghhhhh. The Host was THIS CLOSE to being the best anticolonial novel ever written, and then falls on its face inches from the finish line.

Which, aside, is the reason I don't think Animorphs would ever work with a happy ending. "Happy" for the protagonists would never be morally okay in the bigger story.

#the host #stephanie meyers #consent issues #justification #feel free to argue with me in reblogs #or comments #this is just my take

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uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years ago

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imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

Text

Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together.

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms.

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second. It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful.

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase.

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.

2K notes · View notes

alirhi · 3 years ago

Text

*deep breath*

Okay, let's break this down once and for all.

What were Loki's "crimes"?

Thor (2011)

1) Snuck a small band of Jotuns into the vaults of Asgard as a prank, knowing full well that they would be stopped before they could do any real damage. His reasoning? Thor was brash, arrogant, reckless, and violent. Loki wanted to delay his unstable, genocidal brother taking power and leading Asgard into ruin. This is all fully established in the movie. He got those Jotuns killed, I'll give you that one (or would, if any of you even fucking cared about them). But from his (and any other Asgardians') perspective, not knowing they were his own people, having been raised for 1500 years in a racist society that viewed Jotuns as lesser and unworthy of humane treatment? Hardly a loss, especially in the service of protecting his home.

2) Being handed regency of the throne until Odin recovers, due to Thor's banishment. Loki never stole it, never wanted it, was stunned to be given it. As the other Prince of Asgard and the last remaining link in the chain of succession, there was absolutely nothing wrong with this move, on the advisors' part for handing him the power, or on Loki's part for claiming it.

3) Refusing to undermine Odin's authority while he's incapacitated. His own motives here are completely inconsequential. Loki is right not to immediately contradict the King the moment the crown changes heads.

4) Trying to kill Thor and his friends, destroying a small New Mexico town. I'll give you guys this one (though again... no one seems to mention it. Huh.)

5) That whole Kill Odin/Kill Laufey switcheroo. Here is where the difference between explaining and excusing becomes very important. Loki, having just learned that he's adopted and is the son of Odin's sworn enemy, is having a bit of an identity crisis and is desperate for some indication from the only father he's ever known that he's worthy of love and respect. Having been raised on racism and casual genocide, it makes sense that his idea to win Odin's love and prove his loyalty to Asgard is to eliminate that enemy. This does not excuse Loki's actions; I've never heard/read a Loki fan attempting to excuse his actual wrongdoings. But it's not difficult to understand what motivated him.

6) Trying to destroy Jotunheim with the Bifrost. This is really more of a 5.5 lol. Kind of more of the same shit - desperate to prove himself, lots of twisted, psychotic messages in his upbringing. Again, not excusing his actions, here. There is no excuse for attempted genocide.

Funny how all these arguments that Loki is evil and always has been center around the first three points, where he wasn't actually wrong, and rarely if ever bring up the last three, where he was clearly misguided at best.

Avengers (2012) ...lordy. Here's a doozy. Let's start with this, shall we?

"Marvel confirms Loki was mind-controlled in The Avengers."

To anyone who actually watched Thor 1, this should have been obvious. Why? Because he's trying to fucking rule Earth. Loki. Never. Wanted. A. Throne.

If that's not enough, and Marvel directly confirming this isn't enough, look at the evidence: sickly blue light from the scepter in his eyes, same as Clint and Selveig when they were controlled. He's pale and sickly looking, clearly unwell. He can't stand or walk on his own and is clearly in pain. He was tortured.

Yes, sure, this is absolutely a willing accomplice meeting with his buddy. Not at all a traumatized victim still under the thumb of his abusers and being forced to do their bidding. Don't all friends and allies threaten each other with unimaginable pain? 🙄

1) "He killed 80 people in 3 days!" Thanos shoving him through the Tesseract caused a power surge that obliterated the structural integrity of SHIELD headquarters and caused the building to collapse. That's it. That's the body count y'all can't fucking shut up about and keep mindlessly quoting Natasha, who spun the events to sway Thor to their side. Loki didn't kill 80 people. A building's inability to handle Loki traveling killed 80 people.

2) *chirp... chirp...* 🦗🦗 Y'all need some help? I never hear about anything else from this movie. Shall we just move on?

Oh, wait. There's one more...

2) "He stabbed Thor!" Yep. Finally free of the Mind Stone's control, Loki looks out over the destruction he helped cause, has a little freakout because he's not evil... and then stabs Thor to get free and a little bit to save face because he does have an ego. What's more damaging to it in the end - admitting he was someone else's puppet this whole time, or playing into Thor's bias that he will always betray him because that's just what he does? Also, he stabbed Thor with the tiniest blade in the history of blades. Like, there was no way that thing was ever going to hit anything vital. Thor was in no danger there. It hurt, I'm sure, but he's had worse. Loki did it to get away, not to harm him.

Thor: The Dark World (2013)

1) Still freshly liberated from Thanos' control, Loki is snarky and dismissive as he faces Odin, because he already knows nothing will sway the stubborn old bastard. His mind's made up and Loki has far too much pride to grovel, or to even admit the shit on Earth was never his plan. Oh, no. The God of Mischief is snarky! The horror!

2) Gives the bad guy directions. Not very good ones, at that. Every time I watched this movie, this moment came across as Loki just telling the Kursed how to slip past the guards swarming to round up the other escaped prisoners. Kursed went straight to the shield generator thingy and smashed it to pieces. Not straight to Frigga. Mobius and the shitty Loki series writer can retcon this all they want, but Loki did not murder Frigga. Loki did not lead the enemy to Frigga. He wasn't trying to lead him fucking ANYWHERE.

He was extremely helpful through the rest of this movie, right up until his "death." He was still chaotic and delightfully sarcastic and holy fuck I love this movie... Anyway, Loki was pretty much firmly on the Good Guy team in TDW. But I'll address it anyway...

3) Faking his death and pretending to be a guard to trick Odin, and then pretending to be Odin to trick Thor and the rest of Asgard. ooooo so evil! He sat in a chair and smirked. Someone call the cops! He didn't even hurt Odin!

In Thor: Ragnarok Loki saved the day. Twice. In Infinity War, he died a very stupid, avoidable death trying to save the day, or at least save his brother.

What, exactly, has he done that was so wrong as to paint him as evil and deserving of continued abuse and degradation? Find me one Avenger who hasn't done more damage than Loki ever has. Just one. I'll wait.

Don't even get me started on Sylvie or the TVA. 🤮

#loki #tom hiddleston #avengers #thor #thor 2011 #the dark world #ragnarok #infinity war #loki series #loki series critical #loki deserves better #fan rant #rage post #don't fucking come at my boy #take your victim-blaming bullshit and fucking choke on it

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jello-in-my-bello · 5 years ago

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It’s time that we had a real conversation about Aang...

For the main character of a television series, Aang somehow almost always finds himself under-rated and dismissed in fans’ posts. You see all these posts and, when they do reference him, it’s usually accompanied by the phrases “immature” and “12-year-old boy.” I mean honestly, in some ATLA fans posts, it seems as if Aang’s name is almost synonymous with the word immaturity--and it’s been that way for years. I’ve always wondered why people discredited him. Was it because they saw his age and immediately ruled him out? Is it an excuse for Katara and Aang to have never happened? Was calling him the most immature character a way to bring up their favorite characters? Or did they simply get conditioned to think Aang was immature because everyone just... said he was? Well, I think Aang’s the most mature character (from start to finish) on the show, and Imma tell you why.

I think that Book 1 Aang is the Aang that everyone has stuck in their head. We get introduced to Aang in a strange way: he’s a boy frozen in an iceberg, and the first thing he asks is to go penguin sledding. Then he boldly explores a fire navy ship after being told it might not be a great idea. This kid’s kinda stupid, we think. Why does he care about penguin sledding? Why does he explore something he is told not to? Then he stops at Kyoshi Island to ride the Unagi, then he stops at Omashu to ride the delivery service, and then he lets the gang stop at other locations—having mini adventures—without worrying about learning waterbending on any sort of timeline. Why does he choose to explore all these different places at first rather than master the four elements? Doesn’t he even care about being the Avatar? Ah... that’s right. He’s only 12.

Except surmising his entire maturity (or lack thereof) to the fact that he stops for these adventures means that you are ignoring one glaring detail of the show: Airbender and nomad culture. Aang asking Katara to go penguin sledding instead of what year it was and taking his friends to all those random stops in B1 so that he can explore can not be chalked up to immaturity. Because then you are ignoring an entire culture. We don’t get to see a lot of airbenders, and I think that plays into the problem, but from what we do know, we learn that a critical part of their culture is that they travel. A lot. And experience different cultures. A lot. Think about all the different places he’s referenced going to 100 years ago in the series. Then think about all the friends he’s talked about having in these obscure places—and it always sounded like he visited them more than once. Traveling, experiencing different cities, and meeting new people was a part of him and a part of his culture. He wasn’t being a 12-year-old when he stopped to ride the Unagi or the delivery shoots in Omashu, he was being an air nomad

On a similar note, one of Aang’s most notable traits is saying, “Hey, check this out,” excitedly while doing some air bending trick that seems juvenile--like spinning marbles around or doing an air scooter. People look at him doing this and his previously mentioned traits and go, “Oh, what a kid.” But here’s the thing: we can’t roll our eyes at his persistent need to show people marbles floating in the air or his air scooter. In the episode “Southern Air Temple,” we see Monk Gyatso—an extremely old, wise air bender—throwing cakes on other monks’ heads, and then we’re told throughout the series that Airbenders were known for their playful nature. Airbenders didn’t use their bending the same way other benders do. For example, Waterbenders might show off their skills by creating a giant wave and being like, “Look how cool!” (See: Katara, like every time she learns a new move.) We know Airbenders have some pretty powerful moves--we’ve seen the tornado Aang created, the air body imprint of Aang that slammed Zuko back--but they don’t show off those moves because they’re so combative and not so fun. They show off the good-natured side of air bending (ex: Gyasto’s staff surfing when he was a child). So those marble/air scooter tricks can’t be watered down to 12-year-old immaturity. Because he’s not being a kid when he does those things, he’s being an Airbender. People also tend to look over the fact that he is a survivor of a genocide. You need to keep in mind that he is a living relic and the only example left of what his race was. So even later in the series when he continues to show people those tricks, he’s showing them not just for fun, but to keep his culture alive. And what do you think he’s going to show them: a tornado with random objects flying around in it or two marbles flying in his hands? Which is a better representation of Airbender culture?

Also, do not forget that Aang earned his arrows. Airbenders are not just regular benders; they are known for being especially enlightened. You don’t just need to be a master at airbending to get your arrows—you also need to be a master at their culture. Aang was an enlightened boi. Look at all the speeches that he gave as the series continued. He didn’t just magically become wise in the course of a few months because he had to fight the Firelord, he just tapped into what was always there and never showed. The maturity was always there, and the receipts are in the arrows.

So, I’ve gone over why he’s not as immature as everyone thinks, but why do I think he’s the most mature on the show? It’s because his emotional maturity is freaking through the roof. He’s part of a genocide, his culture is mocked, the few things—his clothing and glider—that he had left from his home were completely destroyed, and he had to do something that severely went against what he believes in. And he almost never loses his shit. In fact, we only ever see him get actually upset (we’re not counting the Avatar state cause that’s a whole different thing) 3 times in the series: when he was telling Katara about how the monks wanted to take him away from Gyatso, the episode when Appa was stolen, and when he was explaining that no one understands the position he is in (in terms of killing Ozai). Think about how much we saw everyone else freak out over the course of the show? About even smaller things.

Katara and Zuko are generally accepted as the two most mature characters of the series. But why? Zuko is continuously snapping at everyone, and, yes, he matured. But he is not completely there yet. He still somewhat believes in revenge (See: Southern Raiders), and it’s only at the last episode of the series that he understands violence is not the answer. And Katara? She acts very mature towards everyone else, but when it comes to her own emotions? She’s a whole basket full of mess. (See: Southern Raiders, again. Or anytime she uses anger as her way to show she’s “passionate.”) A good way to showcase the difference between Aang and these two is realizing that all of them lost a parent from the war and analyzing at how they handled it. (For Zuko let’s focus on the idea that he never really had a father) Katara lost her mother, Zuko his father, and Aang his father, Gyatso. Throughout the series, losing their parent was a huge topic point for both Katara and Zuko so much so that it was as if they thought no one else had ever suffered. (Katara, we see you telling Sokka that he didn’t love your mom the same). Aang, however, acknowledges his pain, tells stories of Gyatso and uses him as an example of what he wants to live up to— eventually coming full circle at the end wearing Gyatso’s beads and an identical outfit. I can’t imagine a more mature way to handle what happened than that.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is, maturity isn’t based on how you have fun, it’s based on how you react to hard situations. And nobody, nobody reacted better in those situations than Aang. So if you watched Avatar and thought it was a story about a young boy maturing, then you misjudged. It wasn’t a story about an immature boy growing up. It was a story of an Airbender becoming an avatar.

#i just had to get this out #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar aang #avatar gaang #avatar the legend of aang #atla aang #atla #atla meta #aang #gaang #the last airbender #airbender #avatar rant

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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years ago

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come home

a sequel to drive away (but not necessary to read drive away)

warnings: mentions of abuse, neil hargrove deserves his own warning, harmful self thoughts, smoking, underage smoking, billy’s trauma

summary: billy and steve are trying their best to be together. but, well. it’s not easy with all of the history they have.

Billy never thought he could have this. sitting on the couch, hands itching for a cigarette that he can’t smoke, not in the house. surrounded by people he loves. and not the fake, routinely expressed love of his family before. no; this is different. this is ease and comfort. breathing deeply and not flinching when voices get excited. not having to put up a front.

everyone is talking over each other. voices bleed over each other, people sprawled across couches and floors and blankets. Max and El are laying on the floor, laughing about something and clutching their stomachs. a terrible, not-so-hidden part of Billy hates them for how carelessly happy they are. but then he remembers the nights when Max comes over and they sit in his room together. in silence. listening to the proof that the other one is alive. how, on the worst nights, El and him end up on opposite ends of the same couch he’s sitting on, head in hands, blaring some of Billy’s music to distract from thoughts.

they truly make up a house of misfits. outsiders. unwanted, unhealed souls.

but things are okay. better.

Steve is next to him, talking mindlessly about his week. Billy has been listening in and out. focusing isn’t the easiest thing in the world for him after everything. Steve knows, though, and Billy’s never mocked for the countless times he’s said “what” or stared blankly when questions are asked.

“-and this asshole at work can’t keep his fucking hands to himself. it’d be okay if it was just me, god knows I can handle some creep, but it’s the others too. Robin and the other family video workers. always comes in during my shift.”

“he ever touches you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” promises Billy. blessedly, Steve doesn’t mention that Billy sometimes can hardly walk around, the pain arching across his body too strong to ignore with a grimace. at least, that’s what everyone tells him. his sour face and pained noises give him away, now that there are people who care.

he’s not alone anymore. maybe it was easier when he was, though. he doesn’t really know how to do this. let people in. let feelings out.

“those violent delights have violent ends,” quotes Steve. “or something like that.”

“you gettin’ all metaphorical on me, bambi?” teases Billy, leaning into Steve. a moth to a flame. an addict to his drug.

“it’s shakespeare, dipshit.” Steve’s laugh. Billy can’t count the amount of times it’s saved him from the edge. the edge of terror in the middle of daylight. the edge of one more breakdown. the edge of sanity as he knows it.

“sorry, I haven’t been keeping up with my summer reading. I’ll have to get back on that before school starts,” deadpans Billy.

the thing is, he knows it’s a sore subject for Steve. Steve, who hated school. but Steve graduated. Billy never gets the chance. he can’t even check out a fucking library book. because the government, apparently, thinks that he won’t go crazy boxed up in this house. he doesn’t get a new identity, no, that would cause too many questions. fuck what he needs, just stay here and watch everyone else grow up. leave. they would anyway. he was always going to be stuck here, in this town, screaming with all his voice. please. someone let him out.

“shit, baby, I didn’t mean-“

“I know you didn’t,” interrupts Steve. Billy should know better, by now, but he never learns. he never has. he just keeps hurting people, it feels like. luckily, it’s not that unfamiliar of a feeling.

“Billy. it’s okay,” promises Steve. “I don’t give a shit about that anymore.” for some reason that just. makes Billy mad. madder than he has any right to be at all.

(but Billy thinks he lost his right to any emotions at all, so maybe he’s not the best judge on that.)

because Billy does give a shit. he does. he didn’t really like school, but it was some place to go. somewhere he had control over some things.

so he gets quiet. apparently that’s how he deal with anger now. doesn’t lash out with his words or his fist. until he’s pushed further.

“I mean, jesus christ, who would want to go back to school? the popularity. the contests. the speaking behind people’s back.”

“maybe that was just you.” Billy’s sulking now, his voice taking an edge that makes him want to punch himself.

“what?”

“maybe that’s just you. some people actually enjoyed getting to go somewhere and see people. at least it was a reason to get out of the house.” he’s sure he’s imagining it, the draft he feels in the room. the way the air goes cold. his hair stands on end, his short strands sticking up.

“yeah, not everyone could be king of the school. it wasn’t always what you make it out to be. I’m sure if you made it to senior year-“

“but I didn’t. and I can make it out to be whatever the fuck I want to make it out to be. at least you fucking graduated. I go through hell and back and I can’t even get myself out of here.” the thing is, it’s unfair. this whole thing. Steve and him, they don’t fight. not anymore. not after they threw blind punches that one night, conflict over a misunderstanding. one that caused Billy a week curled up on his bed, too scared to walk out the door because he was certain, positive, that Neil was on the other side. a week of paranoia and pain.

it’s easier if they don’t fight.

if only he could remember that now, when he needs to. when he’s curling his fists and counting his breath and closing his eyes.

Steve laughs. it’s not the sound Billy wants to hear, though. it’s crass and crude and a bit on edge. “high school wasn’t something that gets you out of here. nothing, and I mean nothing, can get anyone out of this shitty town. you think you went through hell? so did every single person in this room, and none of us got out of here.”

“really?” their voices are getting louder. hushed whispers only last so long. everyone else clears out of the room, leaving behind scared glances. like Billy could do anything to hurt Steve. “believe me, I know that. I’m the one that did that to them. it’s not self pity that drives me to want to escape this place. I know how to deal with bad situations, Harrington.” there’s terrible truth to his words.

“so I’m back to Harrington now? no pretty pet names when you’re pissed at me, I guess. tell me, if it’s not self pity, what is it? because I can’t think of another reason-“

“I’m a burden here. there’s no one here that needs me, not like they need to others. I hurt people and I cause sleepless nights. if I could leave, it would be better for everyone. but I can’t. I still can’t drive a fucking car because all I see is you and the kids in that parking lot. scared shitless. the engine revving and lights flashing.” Billy doesn’t give Steve the chance to interrupt, continuing his tirade against himself with conviction. “I can just run away. I can’t even fucking walk away. so yeah, maybe. maybe in some world where I finished high school with my fucking 3.5 GPA I would be somewhere else and not here ruining everyone around me.”

“I can’t believe you still think like that,” says Steve with horror. and, oh, he sounds truly horrified. which. well. Billy doesn’t always think like that. only on spiraling bad days. only when Steve isn’t around. and, today.

“sorry your kisses aren’t enough to immediately heal me,” Billy retorts, venom in his voice. of course, he doesn’t mean it. Steve’s helped Billy heal more than anyone else.

“that’s not fair.” it’s a soft accusation from Steve. a valid one. it’s not fair at all.

“nothing is,” comes Billy’s sardonic reply. he gets off the couch and goes down the hallway. slams the door shut. blasts his music and lays down on his bed.

Billy doesn’t sleep that night. he can’t, not when Steve is out there. being mad at him.

see, he’s used to the world being mad at him.

Billy can’t fucking believe their fighting about high school, of all goddamn things. Billy was never that passionate about it when it was happening, why should he be now? all that he has is to lose.

in the morning, when he decides he’s tried to sleep enough, Billy tells himself he’s going to make things better. for him. for Steve.

if only things were that easy. Steve finally, finally comes around during lunch to pick up El and Will for the arcade.

using all his will, Billy goes over and leans on the front of Steve’s car. next to Steve. it’s his opportunity to make things right. he’s not going to fuck it up. he’s going to be the good one for once.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” Billy is begging. he knows that. he also has it engraved in his head that “real men don’t beg. ever.” another one of Neil’s shitty mantra’s that he just can’t get out of his head. it’s as close as he’ll ever get to begging.

“Billy, I don’t want to do this right now. come on, let’s just take the kids and deal with this later.”

“no.” it’s a ghost of the commands he used to give, the power he used to have over people. it’s shallow. empty. but Steve listens, because he’s Steve. he would listen to Billy sing the fucking ABC’s and then tell him thank you. “I want to talk about this now.”

“Billy,” Steve sighs. and that’s enough to make Billy cry, because that’s who he is now. someone who can cry from a single word, the one words that’s supposed to be his own.

“right, yeah. we’ll talk later.” Billy hates the way that his voice shakes. breaks. he hates the knots in his stomach that wind themselves tighter at the word later. because later leaves room for never. and Billy. he can’t deal with another never. not with Steve. he already has a million nevers to deal with.

“no.” Steve’s answer has strength behind it. “Billy, don’t take it like that.”

“it’s okay,” comes Billy’s immediate response. “you don’t have to do that. not for me. save it for the kids, they can use more coddling than me. god knows I should be able to wait a few hours.” and then he runs away. well. as much as he can. really, he pushes himself off the hood of Steve’s car, without grace, and limps himself back to the front door, muttering about damn scars that shouldn’t hurt anymore but they do.

they don’t hurt quite as much, though, as the fact that he’s leaving Steve, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, mouth open in a pretty circle. for what seems like the millionth time, Billy’s pushing and pushing and pushing,waiting for the other person to break. cause then he can blame it on that. say he pushed someone away instead of saying they left him.

it’s the one part of himself he never got rid of. it didn’t get carved out of him with that monster. no gaping whole missing his compulsive distancing, no sir. that part he gets to keep. coincidentally enough, it’s also a part of himself that he despises the most. and a part that kept him safe. you can’t hurt friends you don’t have.

it never stopped him from loving, though. nothing could ever stop his beating heart from attaching itself to anyone who showed him attention. Steve, Max, Joyce, El. no one can escape his horrible, twisted, heart. the heart that reaches out without his permission and makes living, breathing, even, torture. as if he doesn’t have enough pain to deal with.

Joyce, like usual, seems to know what’s going on. she shoos the other kids out of the way and sits them up down at the kitchen table.

“he didn’t want to talk,” says Billy shortly.

“who? Steve?” Max peeks her head around he corner.

“are you goin’ to the arcade or not? Steve’s leaving.” probably already left after Billy’s pathetic display of an attempt at kindness.

“not anymore.” she takes a seat next to Joyce.

“so, honey, what’s going on?”

“you didn’t hear from the other side of the living room wall?” mumbles Billy tiredly. “we got into it yesterday. something about high school and me saying everything wrong.”

“sounds about right,” comments Max. Joyce nudges her and she corrects herself. “I mean, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. you’re a very sensible person.” the solemn tone of her voice makes her seem older. mature. beyond her teenager years.

“I can’t lose him,” Billy mutters. he can’t.

“kiddo. you won’t. he’s smarter than that. you think I listen every time Jonathan said he hated me in eighth grade? kids do dumb stuff all the time and say even dumber things. you’ll get over this together.” Billy hopes Joyce is right.

“it’s not like either one of you have enough brain cells to actually think about any of this.”

“fuck off, Maxine.” she doesn’t. she stays by his side the whole time he waits for Steve, saying nothing about his bouncing leg. he knows it drives her crazy. he loves her for it.

he gets his second chance to prove himself later that night. he prays that Joyce is right. they’ll get over this together. Steve drops off the kids back home before dark. always before dark.

“hey, pretty boy.” he sidles up next to Steve, leaning against the car. Steve is smoking, one hand shoved in his pocket. “got a minute to talk?”

“sure.” it’s more than Billy expected already. progress.

“look, I feel real bad about everything that happened earlier. you didn’t deserve any if that.”

“see, you’re the asshole,” wonders Steve. “you’re the asshole, but I’m the one who ends up feeling bad every time.”

“you shouldn’t,” says Billy, like his words mean anything right now, like if he could make Steve believe him, somehow, he would. “I know I’m an asshole. that’s the only thing that didn’t change when all that shit happened.”

“at least you’re self aware,” agrees Steve. it feels like an olive branch between them, between whatever fight this is.

“why can’t we just have each other without all this other shit?” Billy mourns. and, oh, isn’t that so true? he mourns for them just like he mourns the childhood he’s ruined for the kids. for Max and El and Will and even Lucas. it feels like all he does is mourn things that aren’t there. but. Steve’s there. he’s here, right beside Billy.

(and he knows it isn’t a dream because he only has nightmares. he can tell it isn’t real when he turns over and Steve isn’t there, no, some dark thing is there and it’s definitely not Steve. Steve is bright and warm and alive.)

why should he mourn now, when this one thing he wants is right there? shit, nothing else has ever been easy for him. why should this be?

fuck it.

“look, Harrington, I don’t know how to do any of this. especially not now. I can’t get out of this fucking driveway without you, and even then my options are limited. I can’t take you to a nice dinner or flirt with you in front of your parents. there are so many things that I just can’t give you, and you deserve someone who can. but, well. I’m too selfish to let you go. shit, you’re one of the only good things I got going for myself, you know? I don’t think I can cope with loosing something else.” his hands are shaking, but not as much as his voice. he. well, he didn’t mean to give himself away that much. show so much of his hand. “you’re the person in this shithole that’s helped me out of my own personal hell. you’ve saved me a million little times from a depth of myself that I hate going into. I couldn’t do anything, anything without you. I think you might be stuck with me for a while. bitchy moods and all. petty fights about high school and all.”

“I just want to come home to you,” breathes Steve, like a prayer. Billy isn’t religious, stopped believe the first time Neil raised a fist, but if believing in some trivial god meant hearing Steve say shit like that, he would get down on his fucking knees. right here, right now. “that’s all I ever want. I don’t care if I come home and you can’t talk because all you hear is It’s voice in your head or you can’t stop talking to drown out the other voices. the ones that scream your name and beg you to save them. it doesn’t matter to me if you’re in your room crying, which i know you do, or you’re with El drawing, which I know you’re shit at. I don’t ask you to take me out to dinner or stop smoking. if you’re in a bad mood I’ll be in a bad mood with you. if you’re looking for a fight, I’ll take the blows because I know you don’t mean a fucking word of what you say when you get that look in your eyes. I would never ask you to take that off.” Steve gestures to the bright pink bracelet that Max gave Billy a few months ago. she has a matching one. he never takes it off. it’s ratty and dulled, and yet.

and yet it’s something that’s truly his.

“I just want you to be home when I walk through the door. and I don’t mean my parents house, where the furniture is uncomfortable and unused. where I can’t sleep without having nightmares about all the people I love across the whole town from me. where I don’t know if you’re okay. where my mom gets drunk and my dad ignores us, like if he doesn’t look he can pretend we aren’t there. most of the time, no one’s there anyway. that’s never been my home.”

“Steve, you don’t have to say this for me.”

“yes, I do,” replies Steve stubbornly. “because I don’t think you believe a word I’m saying.”

“I believe the parts about you being a perfect boyfriend and me being a shitty one,” supplies Billy helpfully.

“you aren’t shitty,” sighs Steve. “you just have a lot of shit to deal with. and I’m here for you through that. you’re going to have bad days. I’m going to have bad days. that’s okay. it’s part of this fucked up town. the one that we unfortunately live in.”

“I’m sorry.” he finally says it. he’s always meant to say it. especially to Steve.

“I know. and you don’t have to be. we all have moments when we wish things were different.” ah. there it is. the awful truth.

“I don’t.”

“what?” Steve, beautiful Steve, looks up at Billy. those big eyes. he’s missed those eyes.

“I don’t wish things are different. if none of this happened I wouldn’t be here with you.” it’s as simple as that. really. “in whatever other world we exist in, this never happens without the rest.”

“you’d take all those things to be with me?” Steve asks. like it isn’t a stupid question. like the answer isn’t right in front of him, manifested in apologizes and stumbling words.

“I would” swears Billy. “I would do it all again to see your smile.” he kisses Steve on the cheek.

“to hear your laugh.” a kiss on the forehead this time.

“to listen to you talk.” Steve’s jaw. a shuttering breath from the both of them.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” whispers Steve. but his hands are coming up to run through Billy’s shortened hair. gripping right. pulling him close.

“I know, baby. let me make it up to you?”

“lead the way, Hargrove.”

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