#which is painful when you look at it that way

[acid-ixx]

tell your baby, that i'm your baby. (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere damian wayne x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere superfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

this is written in regards to one of my drabbles, i can't help but sigh at just how good the angst is for damian in this series.

because in loving family, unpalatable desire, you pretty much exclusively nickname him "dami, baby," from day one right after meeting him. you say it not in a way that you wish to overstep your boundaries at simply being his stepparent - you're aware, despite the ache in your chest admitting it, that you'll never come quite close to talia's standing in his heart, it's simply impossible with how she raised him her entire life before being dropped off in bruce's care - but because you find the boy adorable if you look past his intent at trying to murder you at every passing glance.

or maybe it's just you trying to cope with the pain of your situation, that you consider them all your beloved children, yet never being once called their parent throughout your entire marriage that breaks apart the illusion of a happy home life, that this wasn't the marriage you wanted at all; that you'll never bear a time in your life stuck in the manor seeing their genuine smiles directed at you even if you attempt to approach as patiently as possible in hopes your presence might be accepted— even if it results in awkward laughs at your cringy jokes at the dinner table, or one of damian's weapons nearly plunging the side of your head.

maybe, it's such a struggle to keep the flicker of light alive in your body whenever all your hardships fail, and all throughout you find your husband with lipstick stains all over his white collar every time he comes home that your mind forces itself to believe that with enough trial and error, maybe one of them could eventually tolerate, rather than pity you.

unfortunately, you chose damian, the one who you're convinced arguably despises you the most, of all people living or visiting the manor to run the test.

so in all the instances you chirp out his nickname, so fondly, so eminently heard across the walls of the manor, even in the spacious expanse of the gardens could your voice be heard from miles away, all because you wish to bond with him, praising his artworks with your grating voice, to give him intricate gifts you know will be discarded in the trash in front of you; you'll be met with a stubborn glare and mean comments about how he'll never consider you his parent, to relinquish your delusions at thinking he'll even let you past his walls, and how he'll never follow through the orders of a scum like you.

which is what you're forced to deal with every single day, coupled with harsh reminders of their happiness without the need for your presence beside them.

sometimes, his reactions could be his typical harsh comments, you've grown accustomed enough to differentiate what is harmless and what borders on violence; it's enough to know when to stop bothering him despite your best efforts. other times, it would be as intense as running a sword through the strands of your hair until he chops it at the end with a threat to cut off your tongue right after if you dare call him that putrid nickname again that cuts deeper than any wound.

with every trial of becoming closer to him, results in an even widening crack in your relationship with the young boy. and eventually, with enough sighs under your breath and harsh glares from him, you'll come into terms that you'll never form a cordial bond with the young boy. it's just impossible with how he views you, sheltered and undeserving because of your family's reputation of being money laundering scum.

at that period of time, you instead chose to strengthen your relationship with the reporter who saved you one day from the paparazzi's cruel interviews, the cute man from the daily planet whose name is clark kent with an even more adorable son, jon, who welcomed you with open arms and a tight hug on your stomach, muttering about how he's so excited to meet his new parent, just when you first stepped on the doors of your affair partner's home; that was enough to relinquish any anguish you felt at the manor replaced with absolute joy at what seems to be the first time you're considered the parent, part of a family, in a completely different household.

it helps erase the shadow of doubt that you may be cursed to never be accepted into an established family with just how bright, how comparable jon was to an overexcitable golden retriever, bonding with you since day one unlike all the other insufferable moments crammed into a jam-packed dinner table— only for your voice to be discarded and overpowered by others.

you start to call him your baby instead, completely in awe at the cute freckles littering his sun-kissed skin and the country boy accent he adopted from his dad. you couldn't help but hold his cheeks in your palms and kiss all over his face whilst you kneel to his level, laughing along with the giggles erupting from his throat that creates this harmonious melody in clark's ears, who watches you scoop the boy into your arms just to swing him back and forth in cuteness aggression, just how it always should've been with you.

clark pictures the moment together, capturing jon's smooshed face shadowed by your hair whilst you look at his, no, your son with inexplicable joy, eyes crinkled and shining brightly under the halo of the sunset.

and clark doesn't even have to see just much jon loves and cherishes you at first glance.

he wouldn't even dare compare you to his late mother, never once calling you a replacement or a homewrecker, placing you upon a pedestal you deserve to be instead; because let's face it, you simply live in the manor, but your true home is where clark and jon, and ma and pa kent are at. pictures of your little family are framed in your shared bedroom for you to graze your finger upon whenever you wish to reminisce the blessings bestowed upon meeting your affair partner at just by chance.

but you shouldn't have forgotten about damian that quickly, not when jon all-too suddenly shoves that photo of you in his wallet in front of his face, it made damian's mind go off in a tangent, in both curiosity and frustated yet unstated interrogations at your sudden disappearance (your grating voice don't call out to him anymore, and suddenly, the manor is quieter; he despises that feeling of emptiness more than he does of your nickname for him) then reappearance as jon's, funny, hah—!

jon's parent.

and in moments of careful investigation does he realize—

when you're with jon, his best friend, when he spies in on you at the little farm you now live in, currently alone with someone whom you call your true son, that he comes to realize just how much that nickname means so much to him, as your voice, with that soft tone, scold his friend with that familiar warmth you always used to direct at him with the softest of gaze, an angel unlike the sea of rich bastards he meets at the galas who only communicate with him to form connections, advantages by being associated with a family of the wayne's.

it's only when you're stripped away from him that he realizes how much he relishes your sweet occupancy into his heart, how there's always been an unbidden, forbidden chamber in his heart that beats for the love you offer him that was unlike the harsh environment he was born in.

he's never been adorned with such a delicate title that portrays him the opposite of what he's raised to be; damian has always been the blood son, son of the bat and heir to the demon king's throne, but never something as fond, as unforeseen as someone's baby.

it just thwarts the spark of hope in his heart and extends the lump in his throat at the scene that plays before him, the loving nickname you oh-so carefully address him now relinquished and graced to another boy, his friend no less— who you considered yours, who he's aware is way more deserving of being called your baby rather than him, who had always denied you from the very start.

"jon, baby, you help me clean the windows tomorrow, alright, young man? it's stained with all your fingerprints!" you scold him as assertively as you can, kneeling down to his level and pinching his cheeks all while grinning at the boy. jon retorts with a tongue out his lips and a scrunch of his nose. it garners a laugh from you, one damian swore he's never heard sounded so desirable until now.

why are you calling jon your baby?

"not my fault, mom/dad! i get so excited to see you come home every time you have to return there!" damian seethes at the scene of jon's pouting and puppy-eyes looking up at you, that should've been him.

"can't you just stay here? forever?"

damian despises how he engraves the melody of your laughter in reply to jon's words, right into his eardrums, but omits the disgustingly sweet chirp in your voice calling jon, not him, your baby. his mind nips away at the memories at all the moments you addressed him too, and how he always rejected and corrected you to call him by his name like a proper person rather than a maniac pushing themself into his life.

he doesn't want to ever hear you address him, if it means it's not by his nickname that you now call jon.

damian couldn't even deny how the huge grin that stretches across your face at the sight of his best friend scalds him with bitterness, he wasn't even aware you're capable of such enjoyment, not when back at the manor your hesitant with even displaying a tinge of happiness— as if you're capable of doing so, not when he knows he's one of the main contributors for being the reason of your current affair.

and yet he wishes he could lie and say he didn't miss it, miss your expectant stare at him, the contrast of talia's comfort compared to yours, when the hugs you offer him, the gifts carefully curated to his preferences, the palpable love that never once wavered for your family that you could never call yours, they all seem like a distant dream now that you're away from them; from him.

it hurts watching you two communicate even further, for once it's him in the background watching like an outsider instead of you. for once, he understands what isolation feels like, what foreboding desires fester deep into his scarred soul that could only be cured with one of the softest cuddly hugs, the sweetest, flutter of your lashes as you stare oh-so fondly at jon like he meant the world to you, like it was only the two of you in the world embracing the light filtering through the windows, side by side, inseparable.

if there was one wish he could conjure, a desire he was trained to forfeit himself to feel that creeps its way into the depths of his guarded heart— it's that once you put jon into bed - even if it takes hours, even his heart feels like it's being squeezed out of blood watching your nightly, affectionate routine with jon; reading him bedtime stories, eating together, laughing lightly at the dinner table while you feed him your share of the plate, moments he never thought he felt compelled to spend with you - once he strikes at the perfect opportunity to talk to you, to confront your blunder of choosing them over him, of his woes towards your relationship—

he wishes, with unceasing faith, that you still love him enough to call him your baby once more.

a/n: let this blow up and i might just actually fix my schedule to give more updates. anyways, more damian wayne and jon kent content! one of my fave runs is with supersons and i love fluff paired with angst too so this is a win-win. pls leave in some comments about this series, since ngl i didn't give it as much love as i did for a&a 😭 so yes! mitski inspired chapter with more conflicting feelings. i'm still working around writer's block but everyone's undying support helps motivate me a lot!!!

taglist:

@starrydollita, @vellichorandhiraeth, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy.

[hannieehaee]

CREEP (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook's in love. finally, after years of waiting for that perfect romance, he finds himself utterly infatuated with the perfect girl. too bad she has no idea who he is. but it's okay, he knows enough about you for the two of you, and he'll make sure to work his way into your life.

content: stalker!jungkook, clueless!reader, lowkey inspired by you from netflix, stalking, reader is surveilled by jk without her permission, smut, afab reader, masturbation (both m and f receiving), jk watches her have sex and masturbating, penetrative sex, creampie, finger sucking, etc.

wc: 1.1k (teaser); 10.2k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: february 3rd

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: this came to mind after binge watching you on netflix hehe<3

masterlist

You'd gone on another date tonight.

This was the fifth one this month.

Always a different guy. Jungkook had been keeping count.

It was hard to not let it get to him. Sure, he was aware that you didn't owe him anything, and much less did he feel as if he held any sort of ownership over you, bu the more men he beheld in your presence, the less patience he had.

Jungkook knew you to be a smart girl. You were a well put-together adult, an incredibly confident and intelligent woman who needed no protection from anyone. It was one of the many things that made him fall for you. It was just the decisions you took in regard to your love life that left Jungkook bothered.

He tried not to judge you, truly he did, but seeing you go from one idiot to another pained him. Intimately so. While aware that you needed to get all these idiots out of your system, Jungkook just wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back as he watched you with this week's respective idiotic bachelor.

This time around, it was some idiot named Liam.

To the naked eye, he might've been a good pick — which is why you'd even given him the time of day, Jungkook assumed. He was tall, — but Jungkook was taller — he was fit, — but Jungkiok fitter — he had okay money — except it was none compared to Jungkook — he had everything the average woman would look for in a man. Truly, Jungkook could not blame you for thinking this might be the right guy.

But, at the same time, you sometimes had the tendency to rush things. Or at least that was what Jungkook had noticed after the past few months of watching you.

The same had happened with Liam.

After messaging for about a week, you'd found yourself at a late night date.

It was the usual. Dinner, walk around a nearby park, and finalizing with a solicitous invitation to your apartment. That much was fine with Jungkook. He didn't care (well, he very much did). A man vying for your affections was not shocking to him. You were perfect. Jungkook was certain of it.

It was what happened behind closed doors that churned his insides out.

Maybe it had been a bad idea when Jungkook decided to install a camera in your apartment, but he couldn't help himself. It had seemed inviting at the time. You had been gone on a family vacation for a week, leaving your place completely vacant, too inviting for him to not take the chance to look around.

And look around, he did.

Out of all the time in which he'd known you, that had been the best day of all. Getting to be in an environment tailored to you and by you had been heaven.

He laid on your bed, letting himself be engulfed by the scent of your shampoo on your pillow. He'd chuckled at all the adorable plushies scattered throughout your place. He'd installed his cameras, ensuring the ability to supervise in case the occasion were to come up.

But his most favorite had been the souvenirs he'd taken with him. The pretty lace set he'd taken as a memento to ensure he had a little piece of you with him at all times.

Currently, as he went over today's events whilst in bed, that pretty set sat on his pillow — on the side of the bed he decided would be yours as soon as he made you his ...

Going back to more pressing matters. That idiot, Liam.

God, even thinking about how the night had ended made him angry. How did you pick these guys? Well, Jungkook knew the how (usually some shitty dating app), but he just couldn't understand the why.

Your dinner had been subpar at best. Liam had picked the shittiest 'fancy' restaurant available. He had ordered for you (whilst picking the cheapest options available), hadn't even bothered to buy you quality wine, and took a ten-minute bathroom break halfway through dinner — which he had spent on some stupid phone call to a buddy of his. Talk about priorities.

Going back home, he parked too far from your apartment for some stupid reason or other, choosing to walk you under a thinly-veiled pretense to make sure you arrived home safely. Instead, he went home with you despite not deserving such privilege.

This time around, Jungkook could tell that you weren't too enthusiastic to allow him in, but it seemed ritualistic to you by now. He argued that maybe you wanted at least one thing to come out of the date, even if that was just some meaningless sex.

Except that the sex had been even worse than anything that came prior.

At first, Jungkook felt morally ambiguous as he watched the live feed of the camera he'd installed in your apartment, but considering that he had already followed you to your date (under disguise, of course), this wasn't all that bad.

The foreplay had been nonexistent (his first mistake, Jungkook was very well aware), leaving you dissatisfied before it all even began. Barely wet and not stimulated at all, you laid there, letting that undeserving idiot do a novice's job at fingering you. Jungkook caught onto the winces on your face as the dumbass worked you with zero finesse. It was a complete disaster that left you just as dry as you'd been since walking through the door.

The worst part of all had been the actual sex itself. Jungkook was genuinely appalled at Liam's ability to get gradually worse as the night progressed.

For starters, you didn't cum. Jungkook would've been able to spot a fake orgasm from you from miles away. You gave a great performance, he had to admit. Had he been any other idiot (re: Liam), he might've believed you. But he knew all your tells. Despite how pretty you looked, how ruinous you sounded, he knew that you'd fabricated that scene to get Liam to stop trying to make you cum to no avail.

Liam, though, had the night of his life. Of this, Jungkook was sure. He needed no confirmation for it, but he received it in the form of many incoming messages you got the following morning. After kicking Liam out the previous night, — under the premise that you had work early the next morning (because you were far too nice to tell him to get fucked) — you awoke to messages from the idiot wondering when part two would come.

Jungkook scoffed at the messages, itching to respond but knowing that if he did, he'd give away that he'd hacked into your accounts. However, he was happy to see that you'd let him down, using one excuse or another as to why you shouldn't go on a second date.

This was the usual routine you followed.

Or at least in the past three months in which Jungkook had been watching you. But now things would be different.

Because Jungkook had finally had enough.

It was time for you to meet the love of your life.

...

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[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

You can find part two here.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 1,862

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika recognized your skills and abilities, you were an intelligent and astute bastard in an environment that being pretty was related to being naive. You knew how to use your looks to your advantage and enchant people with your words, your charisma and your talent. What was your talent? The mechanics, specifically the mechanics with Shimmer. You knew how to use the drug to your advantage, manufacture the best pieces by combining the quality of your products with the functional guarantee of shimmer. You managed to earn loyal customers who were looking for high quality prostheses, weapons and even… other types of products. You were a versatile inventor and Zaunites appreciated it. You came to the Last Drop for that particular reason that night, Sevika had summoned you for a check of her mechanical arm and a certainly special commission. You pushed your way through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and Shimmer in the air, and looked for the tall woman. You spotted her at the back, sitting with three other individuals, gambling with a cigarette between her lips and a confident smile curving them.

"Good night, Sev." You greeted, to which the woman put her attention on you, exhaling the smoke from her cigarette.

"Well, well, well... You're earlier than usual." She replied, gesturing you over. "Come; I have something to discuss with you."

Sevika shooed her gambling companions, her attention focused on you and on that brown overall that you wore at every maintenance meeting. You used to unbutton the top, revealing your arms and torso in a tank top and accentuating your waist. Certainly the fact that you were sweet to Sevika's eyes made the meetings with you more pleasant.

Sevika poured you a glass of whiskey. "Two ice cubes, and with a little soda, as you like." Said the woman, having learned your preferences after two years working for her. You put the toolbox on the table, the exclusive place where you were gave you some privacy and calm to work.

"I see that you remember my whims." You smiled, sitting down.

She pushed the glass towards you, watching you sit down. "Of course I do - I pay attention to detail." Her eyes scanned your attire, taking a quick drag of her cigarette. "You look good, as usual."

"I won't discount for flirting." You teased, leaning back against the cushions with a smug smile.

"It wasn't a flirt." She replied, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm simply making an observation."

"You either flirt or fight, don't fuck with me." You smiled, sipping your glass. "The arm's acting up again?" You asked, aiming at her mechanical left arm.

"Yeah, it's been giving me a pain in the ass." She replied, rolling her left shoulder. "Not acting like it should; slower than usual."

"Mhm, tell me more." You asked, already putting the glass down to lean and start observing the prosthetic arm.

"It's been slower to respond to movements - and the strength has been weakened. It's also... overheating a little more often than usual."

'Overheating? It must be time for a thermal paste change." You assured, taking a screwdriver to start disarming the arm. "How's the shimmer working?"

Sevika rested her arm on the tabletop for you as you got to work.

"Shimmer supply is fine - no change there." She replied. There was a noticeable difference in the movement of her arm compared to the last checkup. "But I've been feeling a little... on edge lately. Shimmer usually doesn't affect me much with its side-effects... but..."

"Mhm?"

"I've been more irritable, frustrated." She replied, watching you closely. "It's like some kind of... primal urge of something."

"Huh. You sure it's the shimmer's fault?" You asked, you couldn't contain a smile. "Or maybe you need to visit the brothel more often."

"Trust me, I've been to the Pleasure House plenty of times." She responded playfully. "But you know damn well it's not the same thing."

"Huh, really? I thought you had your fair share of girls that could satisfy you."

It was no secret that Sevika was a regular customer in the red light district of Zaun, quite mentioned in the conversations among the people for being a fairly skilled woman in bed. Much more was said about Sevika than her lethality and character, her stamina in sex was mentioned, her fondness for the most vocal women, without preference between slim and chubby, but always testing the resistance of her bed partners. She's tireless said the hookers who had provided their services to her. And with the sexual appetite of a person like Sevika, the task of satisfying her was arduous.

"Oh trust me - they satisfy me, alright." She replied, her voice huskier. "But that's not what I need." She exhaled another plume of smoke. "I need to dominate someone."

"Geez." You stopped working on her arm, you rose your brows. "Getting honest, are we?"

"Only with you." Sevika replied, keeping her eyes on you. "You're one of the few people in Zaun I tolerate."

"Well, I don't think the arm has anything to do with your... sexual frustrations." You stated. "Actually, as soon as I change the thermal paste and grease the joints, your arm will work as usual."

You worked carefully on her arm, noticing the slight tremor in Sevika's right hand.

"I think you're overdoing Shimmer again." You said, unscrewing the last part to unclasp the prosthetic arm and pull it off. You laid it carefully on the table, continuing with your work. Sevika didn't complain, she trusted you enough to end up armless before you.

"That's rich coming from you. You probably have shimmer running through your veins right now."

"Huh." You smirked. "Too much work, too little energy." You excused yourself.

"I guess I can forgive you this time." She responded, watching you work with her prosthetic. "Besides, I need you to focus. I have a commission for you."

"A commission?" Your ears perked up, taking a sip of your drink. "Alright, I'm listening."

"I need you to make me something... special." She said, her voice low and huskier. "Do you think you can manage that?"

You scoffed. "What, a pipe?" You teased, but Sevika's answer dropped your jaw.

"A strap." She replied, her eyes slowly roaming over you. "Can you make one?"

You rose your eyebrows, certainly it wasn't the first strap-on you would make but it would be the first for Sevika. Many inhabitants of Zaun asked for prostheses or toys, you were a good manufacturer and your talent with the shimmer made your pieces reliable and high quality, but you certainly did not expect this type of request from Sevika.

You swallowed. "Sure, sure. I can." You said, your gaze fixed on the prosthetic arm.

"Good." She leaned back in her chair, taking another drag of her cigarette before continuing. "There are a few... specifications I want for it."

"I'm listening." you mumbled, annoyed with the way your cheeks blushed.

"7.5 inches, and it must have ridges along the shaft." She said, casually taking a drag of her cigarette. "Textured veins are preferable. Will you need a cast for that? I have a..." She shifted, pulling out a small pouch filled with coins - a small 'advance payment' for your services.

"A cast?" You asked. Your eyes were exorbitant before the coins that protruded from the bag, it was a good pay. Sevika never asked for discounts for your work, she knew it was worth every penny. "I mean, I don't really know any man I can use for a cast." You said sheepishly.

"You know you can get any Zaunite with a coin here." She teased. "Find a willing candidate - I'm sure it won't be too hard."

You were flabbergasted. "Are you suggesting me to hire someone to take a cast of his cock?" You asked with a subtle blush on your cheeks.

"I'm not suggesting, I'm telling you to." She replied, taking another drag of her cigarette. "This is a commission, and I'm paying you generously for it. You'll find a taker - I know you're a sweet talker when you need to be."

"I can't believe this." You sighed sharply.

"Oh, c'mon, you'll manage." She teased. "Just do what you do best. Seduce."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, can I take a cast of your cock? It's for a commission of mine'."

Sevika laughed heartily, enjoying this way more than she'd care to admit. "That pretty much sums it up, yeah." She replied. "I'm assuming most men won't say no, at least not with a pretty face like that."

"Huh. I think you're observant enough." You couldn't refuse an order to a customer as loyal as Sevika, it was a good pay. You just had to gather courage and find a candidate to take the mold, there would certainly be no shortage of suitors. The only problem is how they would take the offer, they would probably try to take advantage of you. You frowned, tensing at the idea of dealing with horny swines.

Sevika observed your frown, noticing the tension in your shoulders. She leaned forward, catching your gaze.

"Relax." She said firmly. "I'll be there with you. If anyone decides to be... insistent, I'll put them in their place."

Your shoulders relaxed. You trusted her, more than people believed. And you knew that Sevika would protect your integrity throughout the process, since she was a woman who kept her word, and her sense of protectiveness was simply unmatched.

"I'll take the measurements of your hip and crotch then." You finally said, looking for a measuring tape in the toolbox.

Sevika smiled pleased as she stood up from her seat. You knelt in front of her, unrolling the measuring tape to take the hip and crotch measurements. As you moved around, your hands touched her thigh, and your face came a few inches from her crotch.

"Lift your hips slightly." You said, trying to remain professional.

She lifted her hips slightly, watching you closely. "This good?" She asked, her voice betraying no hint of emotion.

"Yeah." You nodded. "Poor women that will have to keep up with you on a strap." You mumbled.

"Oh, the ladies will be fine." She retorted, a smirk on her face. "They'll enjoy it, if they know what's good for them."

"I don't wanna hear any details, thank you."

"Fine, we'll move on." She agreed, her eyes still fixed on you. "You're too focused on the details. I'll handle finding the... talent for the cast then."

"Fine." You finished taking the measurements, standing up. The size difference when you looked up at Sevika was... intimidating to say the least.

"You're too short." she teased.

"You're too tall." you said back, picking up your toolbox.

Sevika smiled, knowing it was time for you to go and time for her to resume her gambling session. "Tanner will walk you out." She said. "Make sure she gets home safe." She ordered.

You followed Tanner out the door, glancing at Sevika who was leaning against the table and crossing her arms with a smile on her lips. "Take your time, doll, I trust your work."

To be continued...

[sthilarions]

Charles almost gets killed by a torture hex. Pain is the most effective way to kill a ghost, and Charles is so so strong but not built for suffering like Edwin is, and Charles is already fading when Edwin finally finds the right counter-spell and drags him back to solidity.

Two days later, Charles gets almost torn in half by a giant monster, and Edwin knits him back together with giggling ringing in his ears and green light at the corners of his vision. Edwin’s hands dig into Charles’s wounds and pull Charles back together with a combination of magic and sheer force of will and every twitch of Edwin’s fingers drags tortured sounds out of Charles’s mouth, and it’s right about when Edwin pulls the last bit of skin together and Charles screams that Edwin thinks please, God, Despair, Death, whoever is there, whoever cares, let me take his pain, I’d take all of his pain to never have him hurt again.

It’s another day after that, when he’s reading through a book of healing spells to find a way to make sure this never happens again, that he gets an idea.

It’s another week, full of research and muttering and scribbled runes, before he comes to Charles with what is, as far as Charles knows, a pretty standard request. “I’ve found another protection spell for you. Stand there - to your left a little - good. It can’t stop you from getting injured, but it will take most or all of the pain of the injuries.”

“Oh, wow, that’s brills, mate! I could fight way better like that. I mean, pain is almost all ghost injuries are, anyway, yeah? That’s amazing!”

Edwin casts the spell, handwritten across several sheets of paper, and the glow as it sets in to Charles’s skin blanks out his vision long enough that he doesn’t see Edwin’s skin flush golden, too.

Edwin declines Charles’s suggestion to test the spell outside of combat, so Charles is still a little unsure for the first fight, but when he gets slashed with a cat-claw blade and feels absolutely nothing, he looks down at himself, grins almost maniacally, and wades back into the fight like he’s unstoppable.

He does seem to be, in fact. He fights like Superman, all but invulnerable, and Edwin says his combat efficiency has increased over 30 percent. He throws himself at monsters and ghosts and demons and takes them down with barely a twinge, no matter how hard they hit.

Edwin’s taken to standing further back than he used to in fights, which Charles figures is because the fights are getting into melee more than they used to.

They’re fighting some bastard with a hellwhip, all fire and iron barbs, when the first thing goes wrong. Charles gets hit, and he feels the twinge that’s all he gets from the worst hits now, but through the twinge he hears Edwin gasp.

He turns to Edwin and the whip hits him square in the back as he turns, and Edwin lets out a strangled groan.

Edwin seems to realize Charles is too distracted to do his job, because he dispatches the whippy bastard with a spell, and Charles is to him in a moment. But Edwin snaps and brushes him off and demands to tend to Charles’s injuries, because not hurting doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous. As he tends to the wounds, Edwin’s breath keeps hitching, and Charles can’t get him to say why.

A week later and Charles gets hit with that same damn torture hex, because apparently they didn’t do a good enough job of defeating that wizard the first time. And he thinks for a second that this might be what finally breaks through Edwin’s protection spell, but it’s still only a twinge, albeit the harshest one yet - but Edwin lets out a suffocated yelp from behind him.

Charles starts to turn, and the wizard looks frustrated, and throws the hex at Charles again. And Edwin goes down to his knees.

And the wizard hexes Charles again, and Edwin curls forward, his breath in quiet pants that for a second are the focus of Charles’s entire world.

Charles puts some things together very, very quickly, and then before the wizard can try another spell, his head’s rolling on the floor.

—

Edwin has never seen Charles this angry at anyone, not in the thirty-one years they’ve been together. He had never imagined that Charles could possibly be this angry at him.

—

Charles screams at Edwin for hours, tears dripping down his face and vanishing before they hit his chest.

He pauses every hour or so and demands Edwin take off the fucking “protection spell” right fucking now, and every time Edwin refuses, and Charles starts yelling again.

Normally crying makes Charles’s throat hurt, one of the few bits of quotidian pain that stuck with him to ghost-hood. He doesn’t notice that it isn’t hurting now until a bit after sunrise, when Edwin refuses again, and Charles notices his voice is hoarse and tight.

Charles stops.

He turns away.

“No more cases, Edwin.”

“What?”

“I am not working on any cases, I am not doing anything that could put either of us in danger, until this spell is off.”

“You can’t - “

“I’ll see you later, Edwin.”

Charles walks out of the office, and Edwin stands staring after him.

—

It takes a month. A month of Charles spending time out of the office, and chilly silences, and Edwin trying to make arguments for his position and only getting a few words in before Charles is out the door.

Charles gets back, one day, to see Edwin sitting on the floor of the closet, holding a box of Cluedo in his lap, which they haven’t used since Charles found out.

“I’ll take it off.” Edwin’s looking down at the box, refusing to meet Charles’s eyes. Charles nods.

It doesn’t take very long for Edwin to work the counter-spell, and Charles immediately tests it, grabs for the first magical weapon in his bag and presses it against his hand. It hurts, and he presses harder until there’s a drop of blood and it’s accompanied by just as much sharp sting as it should be.

Edwin doesn’t say anything about Charles believing Edwin might be tricking him, because Charles isn’t wrong to, because he had, before. And if Charles doesn’t trust him anymore, that’s his right.

Charles sighs, looking down at his hand, then looks up at Edwin. “If you ever break my trust like that again, I’ll - “ he breaks off and looks back down. He sighs again.

“I won’t do anything. I’ll forgive you, because I’ll always forgive you, Edwin. But - please, please, please never do anything like that again, I can’t take it.”

Charles is crying, and his throat hurts.

Edwin’s voice is hoarse too, as he promises, never, never again.

And Edwin’s far too far away, Charles thinks. He has been for the last month. For longer, pulling far away during fights and after them - but it’s best not to think about that. With his mind resolutely on the present, Charles steps over the space between them and pulls Edwin into his arms.

“Let’s play some Cluedo, yeah?”

[poguelandiarafe]

thinking about surprising drew by getting your nipples pierced <3 (aka me living vicariously through y/n because i’m terrified of the pain)

masterlist

————

“i need to show you something.”

“should i be concerned?” drew teases, suspicion creeping across his face.

you laugh and shake your head, stepping closer to him. he puts his phone down so you have his full attention, interest peaking when you settle yourself on his lap. the loose t-shirt you’re wearing brushes against your sensitive nipples causing you to grimace slightly. his eyes trail over you face as you debate whether to tell him first or just show him. you decide on the latter.

in one swift motion, your t-shirt is discarded on the floor, exposing your bare chest. drew’s eyebrows furrow in confusion until he notices the silver piercings.

his jaw drops in shock, “fuck, no way.”

“you like them then?” you chuckle, satisfied with his reaction.

he can’t take his eyes off your chest, blinking multiple times as if processing what you’ve done. he’d heard you talk about doing it a million times, but he never thought he’d see the day you actually did.

“i can’t believe you finally did it. shit, they look so good.” he groans, hands instinctively going to touch them before he stops, “how long?”

you know what he’s asking, and it pains you to tell him, “at least six to eight weeks.”

his head shoots up and his eyes widen, “eight weeks! baby, that’s like… two months. i can’t go that long without touching them, that’s torture.”

you roll your eyes playfully, leaning back to grab your shirt and put it back on, “i’m sure you’ll survive.”

“i won’t.” he sighs dramatically, hands squeezing your hips instead.

“you’ll have to.”

you lean into him, pressing a kiss to his lips which he tries to deepen. but you don’t let him, finding it much more amusing to fully climb off his lap and disappear into the kitchen.

“you’re killing me, y/l/n.” he murmurs, getting up and following you.

a proud smirk graces your lips as you feel him press up against you from behind, muscular arms encircling your waist to keep you flush against his chest.

“yet you still love me, starkey.”

[vbecker10]

Hey odd request but I have a lot of tummy issues could you write Loki comforting reader with tummy cramps.

Tummy Troubles

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Loki discovers you curled up in your bed trying to deal with your stomach issues and offers to help you feel better.

Warnings: 🤷‍♀️ stomach issues, mention of throwing up previously, feeling ill but not specific illness mentioned... there will be fluff!

A/N: I'm really really sorry this took so long! I've been having a rough time finding inspiration but last night, while I was curled up in a ball trying not to die from my own stomach issues, I came up with the idea for this fic in an effort to distract myself. Thank you for sending this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand for the second time and you groan, gripping the sheet around you tighter as your stomach cramps and your body shivers. After what feels like forever, the pain subsidies but you still can't force your body to move so you can reach your phone.

You've been laying curled up in a near fetal position for at least the last hour, even since you dragged yourself back to bed after loosing the battle to keep from throwing up your lunch. Even the slightest movement brings a wave of nausea so you've decided your best bet is to stay perfectly still until you finally fall asleep which will hopefully be soon but you doubt it. You're utterly exhausted but as far from sleep as possible. This is not a new feeling unfortunately, once every other month or so your stomach decides to revolt against you for seemingly no reason.

Closing your eyes tightly, you feel chills run up your spine as your stomach cramps. Your muscles slowly relax and just as you take a deep breath to steady yourself, your phone buzzes for a third time.

You don't need to check it to know who keeps calling, it's Loki. He was due back from his mission roughly half an hour ago and somewhere in the last six months, it became a habit of his to call you to let you know he landed. You thought it was sweet and normally you couldn't wait to hear his voice again but there was no way you would let your ridiculously attractive best friend see you sweaty, nauseous and curled up in pain.

The doors open for the elevator and Loki steps inside, his phone pressed to his ear as he listens to it ring over and over. When he hears your voice mail pick up, he sighs and ends the call without leaving a message.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, Loki walks into the kitchen in the common area in an effort to locate you. Instead, he finds Wanda and Natasha making tea and discussing their plans for the evening.

"Have either of you seen Y/N recently?" Loki asks, trying to keep from sounding overly concerned.

"She didn't come to our last two meetings," Natasha answers. "She's sick, some stomach thing I think."

"Thanks, I'll go check on her," Loki says then he leaves the kitchen, walking down the hall to your apartment.

He knocks, waiting a moment but when you don't answer he lets himself in like he has dozens of times before. He sighs when you're not on the couch like he had hoped you would be. He looks around your dark apartment and realizes that means you're in your bedroom. He walks towards the closed door and pauses.

The door is always closed when he's come over and he often found himself wondering what your bedroom was like or more specifically what your bed was like. What color sheets did you have? Was your mattress soft or firm? Did you sleep on the left side or the right side? What he wondered most often though, was what it would be like to fall asleep with his arms around you. He'd never ask you any of those questions of course but now he was about to find out the answer to most of them.

Loki knocks on your bedroom door, putting his ear to the dark wood and hears a soft groan in response.

Your bedroom door opens slowly and you pull the thin sheet tighter around yourself. Despite your back facing the door, you can immediately tell by the sound of his leather boots that it's Loki.

"Are you okay, love?" Loki asks. "Natasha said you were sick."

"Go away," you mumble, squeezing your eyes closed as your stomach cramps. You feel the bed dip lightly as he sits on the edge and you groan. "Don't move the bed," you force the words out, afraid speaking will trigger your nausea as it often does.

Loki gets up quickly and apologizes, "Sorry."

You can feel him watching you but you can't move to face him. Part of you wants him to leave, close the door on his way out and act like he never saw you here. The other part of you desperately wants him to hold you until you fall asleep.

"Let me help you," he says finally.

"I'm fine Loki, you can go," you say through gritted teeth and the instant you hear your voice you know the God of Lies isn't going to believe that.

"Y/N," he says softly as he sits gently on the bed again, careful not to move it as much as before. "I can make you feel better if you're sick."

"How?" you ask then cringe in pain as your stomach cramps tightly, a second later you feel something unexpected. Loki's chest presses lightly against your back as he lays on your bed next to you.

"I can use my magic to heal you. I've used it to heal wounds and illnesses before," Loki explains as his arm wraps around you, his hand settling on your stomach gently. "Just relax love, this will only take a moment."

You nod but you're body remains stiff, you've spent almost every night for the last three or four months wishing you could lie in bed with Loki but this is not how you wanted it to happen. Your attention is drawn to Loki's fingers as they begin to glow green, his seider spreading slowly over your body.

Almost instantly, your stomach settles as the cramps release and the nausea subsides completely. You find yourself inching closer to Loki as the chills fade and the only things you feel are tired and comfortable. Your hand covers Loki's, his seider fading once the spell has finished healing you.

You nod and smile, "So much better. Thanks Loki."

"Better?" he asks quietly, his lips a few inches from your ear. 'Black cotton sheets, firm mattress, left side of the bed,' Loki thinks, answering the questions he had about your bed, a smile spreads across his lips as his fingers intertwine with yours. The only thing left for him to do was try to hold you for as long as possible since he wasn't sure when our if he'd get to do it again.

Your eyes flutter open. "No," you reply quietly, still holding his hand to keep his arm around your body. "Please stay."

"Of course, love," he answers.

You yawn, closing your eyes for a moment. You've cuddled with previous boyfriends but Loki was so much more comfortable than you had imagined he could be.

"I'll leave so you can rest," Loki suggests even though it's the last thing he wants to do.

He shifts as close to you as he can, thrilled by your request, "Okay love."

You yawn again, struggling to keep your eyes open and in your exhausted state you find yourself asking Loki something you've wanted to know for months. "Why do you keep calling me love? You never call anyone else that."

Loki places a soft kiss to your neck, just below your ear and whispers so quietly you barely hear him, "Because I love you."

You smile as your eyes close and just as you slip off to sleep you whisper back, "I love you too."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @ash-muses @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @sabspoetic @anukulee @lovinglokilaufeyson @beaniemoon

[bewaryofpity]

NEXT STEP IS LOVE - L. HUGHES

[2.0k] luke brings you to the family skate, surprising his teammates, and the usual “i didn't know you had a girlfriend” comes up, but this time luke has enough of calling you just his best friend.

warnings: none ! just some cute ol' fluff; probably really cringey 😔

a/n: she's a short one, and i’m not really fond of it but here it is anyway. sorry guys :(

“Didn’t know Luke had a girlfriend.”

“That’s because he doesn’t. That is his best friend.”

“Bullshit.” Kovacevic laughed in Jack’s face before turning his head back towards Luke near the bench.

Luke was kind of a private person so the idea of him having a secret girlfriend would have made sense to anyone, especially to the new guys he wasn't close with yet. But when Jack revealed that the girl in front of Luke was simply a friend had to be the biggest lie Kovy ever got told. Because friends don’t look at each other that way.

Luke’s fingers were trembling as he tied the laces of your skates carefully, making sure they weren’t too tight or too loose. He felt nervous having you here with him, which was strange because it wasn’t like you’ve never been around the guys before, but the new season meant new guys too. Which also meant that the same old dreaded question was going to come up at any moment.

“Good?”

You nodded in response before stretching your hands out so Luke could help you up the bench. You were wobbly at first, as he tried to hold back the teasing grin creeping on his lips, definitely not used to being on skates as often as him. 

You slowly made your way onto the ice, clutching his hand like your life depended on it. He couldn’t help but keep his gaze on your concentrated face, cheeks flushed from the chill of the arena as you found your rhythm. He was lost in his thoughts, stomach filling with butterflies when your hands squeezed his tighter. And if it weren’t for the little squeak you left out, he would’ve let you fall.

“Sorry,” he said with no hint of honesty in his voice while you shot him a playful look. 

It wasn’t long before you found your footing and let go of his hands to skate side by side. There weren’t many chances for you to hang out with Luke in these settings. The last time you skated together was when he was still a rookie, and he almost got in trouble too many times for using the rink after hours just to teach you how to skate, but you loved every single moment of it. So when he realized your day off coincided with the family skate, he didn’t hesitate to mention it and you couldn’t wait to be there for him, doing something you know would make him happy.

Though, the only thing that was different from those times was the fact that holding Luke’s hands now had your heart doing funny tricks on you. The newfound warmth that has taken over your body in his presence this past year or so was unexpected and scary because you were well aware what this meant and you couldn’t lose Luke over a stupid crush. 

If only you knew that he too got to a point where hiding his feelings for you was actually painful. He tried everything to spend as much time with you as possible. Faking being too tired to drive back to his place and sleep on your couch, missing optional skates, staying up at night before an away game just to hear your voice, letting you nap and waking you up only to convince you to spend the night at his place because i don’t want you to drive, it’s too dark outside and dangerous. It was all worth it in his eyes. But the ache in his chest everytime he had to leave you was becoming harder to suppress than he thought and he couldn’t take it anymore.

As he tried to grab at your brushing hands, Pesce stopped abruptly in front of you and almost knocked you down in the process. 

“Didn’t know Rusty here had a girlfriend.” He said with a grin before turning his attention to Luke, wiggling his brows in a teasing maner.

“Oh, no, I'm just a friend.”

“Oh.”

“His best… friend, actually.” You tried to smile as sincerely as you could. The question never bothered you before, you two were close enough that such was expected, but the way Luke couldn’t look at you during the exchange with his teammate created a pit in your stomach.  

Before he could take you away from the awkwardness of it all, Cotter skated over too. “Here we go,” mumbled Luke. 

“Meeting the girlfriend without me?” 

“Not the girlfriend apparently.”

"Really?" He asked, his tone skeptical as his eyes flicked between you. "Could’ve fooled me."

Luke groaned, not missing the way his teammates exchanged knowing looks and chuckling under their breaths. He couldn’t really blame his teammates for jumping to conclusions. If he were in their shoes, he might have assumed the same thing, it happened way too often anyway.

He grabbed at your hand and pulled you towards him, skating as far as possible from everyone. Was it really that obvious he liked you? Yet, you were still by his side, seemingly not phazed by the constant nagging and teasing from outsiders about your relationship, which could only mean that you didn’t like him back. 

Luke was tired of all of this and the months he spent burying his feelings for you, convincing himself that your friendship was enough, were all coming down on him now with everyone assuming you were a couple. Feeling heavy, he hoped the family skate came to an end soon.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about them.”

“That’s okay.”

You nodded but didn’t press further, not yet at least. Your hand came to rest around his bicep, seeking his warmth and pretending to need balance as you grew tired. 

The easy rhythm you found earlier was now gone. Luke could tell you were trying to bring yourself comfort by staying close to him, though you kept your gaze on the ground which could only mean you were absorbed in your thoughts. And he hated that it was all his fault, he hated the idea of you thinking he was embarrassed or annoyed by the assumption that you were together. Because he wasn’t, he had dreamed of being your boyfriend more times than he‘d like to admit. And he wanted nothing more than being able to call you his. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he led the way towards the bench to change back into normal shoes. The rink was quieter now, families thinning out. You leaned back, stretching your legs, and looked at him with a small frown on your lips. You didn’t have time to reach down when he brought up one of your feet to untie your skate.

“What’s on your mind, Luke?” 

Luke hesitated, his fingers fumbling with your skate laces. “Nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing, Luke. You’re too quiet, what’s wrong?”

“Does it not bother you when people ask if we’re a couple?”

You blinked at him, startled by the question. It wasn’t what you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Luke had stopped untying your skate, his hands frozen mid-motion as he waited for your answer. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw tightened.

“Bother me?” You repeated softly, the chill of the rink seemed to seep into your skin, though you weren’t sure if it actually was the cold temperature or the sudden shift in the conversation. “No, not really. I mean, it happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Luke nodded slowly, looking down at your skate again. He resumed working on the laces, but his movements were slower now, almost hesitant. You shifted slightly, your other foot tapping lightly against the rubber mat beneath the bench. 

“Does it bother you?” You tilted your head, watching him carefully. 

Luke let out a quiet sigh and dropped his hands on your leg. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “Sometimes, I guess. Not because of what they think, but… because of what it implies.”

“And what does it imply?” 

You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart began to race, the steady rhythm you’d been clinging to slowly slipping away. You couldn’t help but search his face for clues, for anything that might explain the sudden vulnerability in his tone.

Luke hesitated, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours for something — permission, maybe, or courage. And for a moment, he seemed to be weighing his next words, his brows drawing together in a way that made your chest ache. 

“Luke…”

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if he was afraid he’d lose his nerve if he waited any longer. “I’ve liked you for a while now and I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that I don’t. I can’t stand being apart from you, I need you close to the point where I am not my own person anymore. I’m tired of the ache in my chest everytime I have to leave you, not just for roadies, but every time we part ways, it’s like I’m a different person without you that I can't recognize.”

“When they say stuff like that, it just makes it harder because I want it to be true. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to wake up next to you and come home to you every day.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. You tried to open your mouth as if to speak, but he pressed on, the words tumbling out like water breaking through a dam. His words started fading in your racing mind. His confession hung in the air heavy and raw, and all of it felt like you’ve been hit by a truck. Luke, your best friend, liked you and you were glad he hadn't stopped talking because, truly, you didn’t know what to say.

Luke’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he braced himself for rejection, for awkwardness, for the possibility that he’d just ruined everything. The silence that followed when he stopped taking felt like an eternity. And for a moment, you just stared at him, expression unreadable. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… wanted you to know.”

You dropped your foot to the ground and scooted closer to him. As he turned to face you, your hand pressed against his cheek and you leaned in to place a delicate kiss on his lips. It was soft, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make Luke freeze. His mind blanked, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. When you pulled back, your face was mere inches from his, your hand still lingering on his cheek. Your cheeks were flushed, though whether from the cold or the weight of the moment, he couldn’t tell.

His heart pounded in his chest as you bit your lip, your hand dropping from his face to rest on your lap. 

“It’s always been you, Luke.” Your gaze met his once more, the blush on his cheeks making him cuter than he ever looked. Luke’s eyes widened, still incredulous even after your kiss. 

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, a small, tentative curve of your lips as you nodded.

He leaned forward slightly clearing his throat, his eyes searching yours. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, voice barely audible.

This time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant or fleeting. It was soft and tender, a promise of everything you both hoped to build together. When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested against each other, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

“Hey, lovebird! Tone it down a bit, there’s kids around.”

Luke groaned at one of the guys’ teasing from the other side of the rink, and you laughed at his antics, the weight on your shoulders had finally been lifted off. 

“So… does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You didn’t know your cheeks could flush any more, and smiling at his question, you reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from his face.

“Eh, I’ll have to think about that.”

[jun-was-taken]

There's no gaming experience that's been able to match it. It's one of those rare experiences where it just so thoroughly hits your resonate frequency your brain starts vibrating.

The game's systems and story are so singular in their theme and thesis. Everything you do reinforces the idea that human connection can overcome even the most fucked up dire situations.

One of the mechanics in this game is you can setup bits of infrastructure that people can see and use in their own worlds. You'll see a conveniently placed ladder here, a perfect save-your-ass-I-don't-have-shit-on-me rope there. Someone was looking out for you. You sauce them as many likes as you can. While you're helping the characters in-universe, you're also the guardian angels for other porters that are literally following in your footsteps.

It starts off small. You pack an extra ladder when you know you don't really need it, just so you can go off the beaten track and bridge a gap. Just for the simple pleasure of maybe it'll help someone. Oh man, that cliff was a real pain in the ass to go around. I'm ganna go back and put the rope I wish was there. The next thing you know, you're loading up your truck with literal tons of raw materials to complete out sections of highway.

You've cleared out everyone's stash of metals and ceramics. You stuff your truck, all 28 XL containers of assorted raw materials, beautifully stacked in the back. You're cruising down the freshly paved highway you just helped create. You have a podcast on and you're swerving spooky ghost creatures. One section done. Then two. Then three. The truck bed is lookin a lot lighter. You get to the last section of highway you planned to finish for that route. Time to cash in those last few containers. It'll be a job well done, clean op, time to dust your hands off. You did the math wrong. Ahh shit. You eye the last few containers rolling around in the back. You look around and spot an old rusted bridge. It's well traveled and loved, but it's seen better days. It's a good distance away but you could repair it with what you have in the back. Your truck is rusted and sparking from all the timefall. But the old girl has no quit in her. She'll always take you to where you need to go. You give that bridge a new lease on life, ready for the next set of muddy boots. Then you head back to the DC, planning your next route all the way to do it all over again. But first, a much needed break for the truck and for Sam.

This game is full little stories like this. I've setup a zipline network which involves braving the sketchiest parts of the world. Fighting through literal nightmare hell zones just to set it up. I booted up the game a few months later. I came back to see that multiple porters not only braved the same hell zone, but they schlepped their own materials to not only make sure it didn't rust away, but even upgraded. They had tons strapped to their backs, fighting like hell just so that the safe passage remains open. It makes my heart swell even as I type this out.

Every playthrough will be unique and deeply personal. Acts of service is the love language that ties every porter together. A simple thumbs up means everything. While I get that it's not a game everyone will enjoy, if anything that I wrote interests you, I hope that you give it a try. It's very special to me.

I highly recommend playing Death Stranding if you got a system to play it on

it’s set in this post apocalyptic world where everyone turns into a nuclear explosion ghost after death and the rain makes you and everything else old and for 30-40 years no one’s been able to do anything to combat it except bunker down underground and incinerate the dead. People are isolated because, wouldn’t you be if your neighbour dying meant your city turned into a crater?

but in spite of this all there’s hope that we can connect people again. The NPCs are relentlessly optimistic that we can manage the explosion ghosts if we work together. So much of it is just, building up small contributions and having them pile up and before you know it, you got something big going on. You’re the big damn hero (a guy with insane core strength who doesn’t die) tackling the (literally) heavy stuff but the NPCs are all eager to contribute whatever they can. Here’s some custom boots. A protoype engine. A non-lethal ranged weapon. A place to stay. A bridge to cross a river. A parcel of materials to build with. A generator just as your truck battery is dying. A good luck charm. A remote operated surgical table. A sign that says Keep On Keeping On.

I think it’s important to remember that the small stuff matters. It helped me a lot during the pandemic. The world is heavy and not everyone can lift 100kg, but we can all do something even if it’s just some words to remind people we’re in it together.

Also, Trump canonically died in a ghost explosion and was utterly annihilated down to the atoms.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Whatever You Need

Request: Jason helping reader through their period

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab!Reader

Summary: Your period takes you by surprise. Luckily, Jason's there to take care of you.

Word count: 1.6k

Sorry this took so long... I started four different Jason fics, which means none were finished. But they should be finished and posted sometime soon.

Sprawled on the couch in your pajamas, watching an episode of The Great British Bake-Off that you’ve seen at least twice before, you feel the first twinge of pain in your abdomen. You don’t think much of it at first, which is a mistake. There are still two days before your period is supposed to start, and you ate ice cream after dinner even though you’re lactose intolerant and ran out of Lact-Aid a couple days ago. You figure you’ll head to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of your actions if the need arises, but you’re too comfortable to move when the weighted blanket on top of you has a name and that name is Jason Todd.

You’ve been on bedrest (or couchrest) for the past week and a half after a bad fall in the rain during patrol twisted your ankle. It swelled to twice its normal size. The upside was that it happened during winter break so you didn’t have to make the choice between limping to class or skipping. The downside was that you wanted your superhero persona to have more of a presence with Gotham’s goons. As a part-time hero, unlike Jason and most of his family, you get much less respect when suited up than, say, the Red Hood.

As a contestant’s dough fails to rise and they begin to have a breakdown on the screen, your stomach cramps again.

Sometimes, if you ignore it, the pain will go away. You’re too comfortable to get up now.

To distract yourself, you run your fingers through Jason’s messy curls. He doesn’t have a wash routine, so they’re always frizzier than Dick’s, but you’ve never minded. He’s devastatingly handsome either way. At least like this he looks a little bit less like something come to life straight out of your fantasies. He’s just a little more real.

Jason hums sleepily and pushes his head into your hands, a bit like a cat nuzzling at you. It’s been a lazy day for you both. You’ve been in the same position on the couch for hours—you on your back, half-watching the show, half-dozing, and him on his stomach in the cradle of your legs, head pillowed on your stomach, not even pretending to watch the show, judging by his closed eyes.

Your stomach cramps again, and this time you feel it—the ache even lower, and a wet heat blooming between your thighs. “Oh, fuck me.”

Jason takes a minute to respond, still interested in your fingers that make his entire body tingle when you massage in just the right way. Then he cranes his neck up, brow furrowed and bottom lip jutting out with his confused frown. “Okay?” He starts to sit up, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, but you draw your legs up and out from under him and roll off the couch.

“No, not literally,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fuck—did I stain the cushion?” It was no big loss—you’d found the couch on the side of the road and Jason helped you bring it up to your apartment and sanitize it—but a bloodstain would stand out on the light brown color.

“Oh,” he says with realization as you run to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. “The couch is good!” he calls.

Your pants aren’t. It looks like someone died between your legs. You’ve always had heavy periods, especially the first couple days, accompanied by strong cramps. If you get ahead of them and take pain meds, they’re not too bad. Sometimes you can even patrol. But playing catch-up with ibuprofen is a recipe for disaster.

The rest of the day is going to suck.

Because you always feel gross when you’re on your period, and because no amount of wipes would fully clean up the mess between your legs, you hop into the shower and turn up the heat until your skin is bright pink. Jason pops in for a second to drop off a change of underpants and sweats, then ducks out just as quickly.

Turning off the water starts the race against time. As quickly as you can, you apply your preferred hygiene product before any more blood can leak down your leg. Then you towel off and shrug on the new clothes. You still feel icky, but the new clothes and shower helped slightly.

Something sizzles in the kitchen when you open the bathroom door.

“Hey, honey,” says Jason without turning around, standing in front of the stove. He points at the table. “Meds and water are right there. How are you feeling?”

“Ugh,” is your response. You down the pills and almost set the glass back on the table, but at his insistent look, finish it off. Hydration helps with cramps as well.

“You’re two days early.”

“Well, I haven’t been patrolling. Exercise changes can throw my cycle out of whack.” You sniff. “What are you making? It smells good.”

“Chicken stir fry.” You peek into the pan and see broccoli, bell peppers, and a couple other vegetables frying with the chicken. The covered pan behind it, you know without looking, contains rice. “I also have ginger tea brewing.”

All of it, every part of the meal, is meant to help reduce your symptoms and pain.

You can’t help it. How is he always so thoughtful? You throw your arms around Jason’s middle and squeeze. So he can keep stirring the food, he shifts until you’re tucked beneath one arm. His hair is in complete disarray from your fingers like he just walked through a tornado. When he notices your gaze, red colors his cheeks and he flattens his hair down self-consciously.

You press a kiss to his shoulder, the highest place you can reach without stretching.

“Go sit down,” he pretends to scold.

In response, you lean into him, heavier and heavier, until he’s practically carrying you. Jason doesn’t even blink at the added weight.

“I plugged in your heating pad,” he says. “It’s right by the couch.” Another thing right next to the couch is a coffee table he stole from the manor when he was pissed at Bruce. On top of it is a bar of dark chocolate and a freshly-washed bowl of your favorite berries.

You kiss his shoulder again. Jason kisses the top of your head, then nudges you away with his chin. “Go. Sit down. Rest your ankle and your uterus.”

“That is not how it works,” you say, mirth in your voice.

“It’s how I think it works,” he mumbles.

When the food is done, he brings two bowls over. You lift your legs and he slips underneath them. He uses your shins on his thighs as a makeshift table, balancing the bowl between them, and absentmindedly rubs your weaker ankle with the hand not holding his spoon.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence as The Great British Bake-Off plays. You finish first, and as soon as he sets his bowl down, you sit up slightly and make grabby hands at him. “C’mere.”

Jason pretends to roll his eyes, but judging by the line of kisses he trails from your wrist to the inside of your elbow as he lies down, he doesn’t mind your bossiness too much.

You shiver at every brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of your forearm. It’s almost enough to distract you from the cramping that’s beginning in your abdomen again—a cramping that eases slightly when he’s atop you again, resting the gentle pressure of his weight on your stomach. Warm, fed, and with his weight on you, is it any wonder you fall asleep?

You’re only woken by Jason’s gentle hand shaking you, telling you that it’s been eight hours since you last applied your feminine hygiene product and you need to change it. You’re tired and sore and cranky, but as soon as you blink your eyes open he has pain medication and water for you to take.

You do so in the bathroom in a daze and tumble into your shared bed, tugging Jason in with you. He goes down easily, using his huge, warm form to surround you with his easy, comforting scent. You left the heating pad on the couch, but the thick arm Jason winds around your stomach does the job well enough, and you drift back to sleep quickly, never fully awake in the first place.

The next morning, you wake to an aching back and stained sheets.

You stare up at the ceiling and swear, which unfortunately wakes Jason, who lifts his head and stares at you, one eye still crusted with sleep. His curls are in wild disarray, one side flattened from the pillow and the other on end as if he’s been spending his spare time sticking forks in electrical sockets.

If the cramps have gotten to your spine already, then the next few days are going to be hell. And this was a nice pair of sheets! The blood had better wash out.

Jason grunts and lowers his head. “Everything we own is bloodstained, honey. Though usually it’s mine.”

You leave him in bed. Your hair feels way too greasy, and your skin feels tacky, and even after a half-hour shower, you still don’t feel great.

As soon as you step out of the bathroom, Jason is there with chocolate-chip pancakes he made himself, accompanied by a fresh bowl of fruit and more meds.

Emotion rises in your throat. You want to tell him so much, like that you love him even though you haven’t said it, or that you can’t fathom going through your period on your own anymore, but all that comes out is, “You’re perfect. You know that? You really don’t have to do all this—or stay home from patrol for me.”

Jason tousles his messy curls and shrugs. “Well, I’m gonna anyway. You need me, and I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

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@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3 @bellathecatastrophe @lonely-star2044 @flanhog @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t

Let me know if there's anything you want to see from me!

[smilesatdawnmain]

Taken Back (Part Two)

Previous

Next

——-

As the two children embraced, there was a sense of confusion and amazement in the air. Broken only when the Monkey Prince spoke.

"I know you," Xiaotian whispers, his words filled with wonder.

Macaque’s ears flickered, startled. He didn’t know what that meant, and perhaps Xiaotian didn’t understand either. When he looked at Wukong, the two parents were left puzzled as the boys sobbed and clung to each other.

“Um…” Wukong drawled out, gesturing to the two in hopes his mate might have some input.

Macaque did not, but he stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the two boys. He hadn’t even had a chance to really look at this human cub yet before this was all happening. He placed a hand on Wukong's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I think," he said softly, "We need to talk." they exchanged a long and meaningful look. This was strange- stranger then anything they had ever seen before, and they had seen a lot in their time.

Wukong nodded, his own gaze still fixed on Xiaotian and MK. He had never seen his son react this way to anyone, let alone a complete stranger. It was as if the two children shared a bond that transcended explanation. “Yeah,” he was in complete agreement. Yet, before they could, he felt it was best they deal with this… situation? “Uh- Xiaoxiao?” he called to his son tenderly.

Xiaotian sniffled, lifting his tear-streaked face from MK's shoulder to look at his father. "Daddy," he said, his voice trembling, "Can... can he stay with us? Please? Forever??"

“Forever??” Wukong's heart clenched at the pleading look in his son's eyes. He admits… he had a similar thought, but for Xiaotian to also feel this way? He glanced at Macaque, who seemed equally torn. "Oh- Xiaoxiao," Wukong began gently, grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck. He shouldn’t just say yes, he knew. "MK has a home of his own. We can't just-"

"No!" Xiaotian cried out, clutching MK's against his chest, clinging to him with all his might. His parents stiffened, feeling a cold chill shoot up their spines when their child screamed, “No Daddy, don’t take him away! No no- please!” He was clinging to MK, sobbing his little heart out.

Wukong was panicking immediately, eyes wide, having never heard his son plead before. Mihou almost rushed forward to grab and console him, barely forcing himself still. “X-Xiaoxiao-??” Wukong stammered.

“Please—! Pleaseee-“ Xiaotian’s voice cracked.

Wukong’s entire body tensed and his stomach tightened, wanting with all of his being to alleviate his son’s concerns. He was waving his hands around in a frantic manner. “Okay! Okay! He can stay!”

“Wukong?!” Macaque smacked his arm.

“For dinner!” Wukong added in after wincing and rubbing his arm. “W-We uh- he’ll stay for dinner.” he nodded, sounding more assured. “Which your Baba and I have to prepare. Sooo-”

Macaque shot Wukong a pointed look, but seeing the desperation in his son's eyes, he softened. "Yes, Sun Spot, your friend can stay for dinner. Okay?" He managed a small smile. They watched the concern leave Xiaotian’s teary gaze, softening as he nuzzled the boy in his arms.

“Otay…”

There was a shudder to Macaque’s shoulders, carefully reaching out to brush a few tears from his baby’s face. It was painful to see him so upset “W-Why don't you show him around Flower Fruit Mountain while your Daddy and I get things ready?"

Xiaotian's face lit up, smiling through a tearful expression. He rubbed his arm to his eyes, sniffling. His voice was crackly as he patted MK’s shoulders, drawing the boy’s head from his chest. “Hey- Hey, you are- MK? MK right?” he had heard his Daddy say it a few times.

MK gave a rather pitiful nod, feeling so drained from crying. When had he last done this? “Yes… I’m MK.” he patted his chest. Everything felt so sensitive. Like the saturation of a game getting put higher then it ever had before, making it hard to adjust. It was bright, loud… amazing…

Xiaotian smiled, taking MK's hand again and giving it a squeeze. "I'm Xiaotian. But you can call me Xiaoxiao if you want." Every time he seemed to brush away some tears, more seemed to follow, so he opted to push through them with a smile instead. “Wanna play? With me?”

MK nodded eagerly, his own smile breaking through the tears. "Yeah! I wanna play with you, Xiaoxiao." The nickname felt natural on his tongue, as if he'd been saying it all his life. “Is- Is that alright?”

“It’s alright! Baba said yes,” he looked up at his Baba expectantly. He could often get a yes from his Daddy. It was his Baba who was sometimes the tricky one.

With his arms folded, Macaque nodded. They needed a moment to regroup and discuss this whole “MK” situation and what this possibly meant. And yet- when MK looked up at him with those big teary eyes of his- Macaque was struck with nostalgia.

This was a human boy, and yet, for some reason, he thought he was looking at his Mate.

It didn’t make any sense in truth, but MK looked the spitting image of Wukong when he was that age. Lacking in the fur, of course. It was his face that held the similarity. Same nose, same eyes shape, same opened mouthed stare. He looked at Wukong sharply, who hadn’t seemed to notice this.

“Baba?” Xiaotian asked when his parent seemed lost in his comparisons

Macaque cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with Wukong to smile gently at the boys. "Of course it's alright, Sun Spot. You two go have fun.”

Xiaotian's grin widened. He tugged on MK's hand, leading him towards the lush jungle that surrounded their home. "C'mon, I'll show you all my favorite spots! We can climb trees, and dig holes, and look for cool bugs and-" His excited chatter filled the air as the two boys disappeared into the foliage, their laughter echoing in

Macaque called after them, “Be back before sundown for dinner!”

“Otay Baba!” came their son’s chirp in reply.

“Otay, Six Eared Macaque,” MK added in a softer voice.

Xiaotian was distantly grimacing, “Don’t call Baba that. He is Baba.”

“B-But-” MK says. “He is that. The Six Eared Macaque.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“NU-UH! He is Baba, or Mihou, or MOON.”

“He’s not the moon??” MK says, confused

“My Daddy calls him the Moon! So yes he is!”

They couldn’t see the children anymore, but could still hear them as they took off into the mountain. Wukong was grinning ear to ear as he stared at his Moon, seeing that way Macaque’s tail twisted and he hid a smile behind his hand at how cute to the two boys were together.

“You thinks he’s cute~” He cooed.

“Shh it,” Macaque shakes his head.

As the children's voices faded, Wukong turned to face his mate, "Mihou, did you see that? The way they reacted to each other? It was like..." with a tad more seriousness, he found the whole interaction so curious. He was happy the boys were quick to get along, but their initial meeting was so bizarre.

"Like they already knew each other," Macaque finished, his brow furrowed in thought. It was bizarre. "I've never seen Xiaotian respond to anyone that way before. And the human boy, MK... there's something about him."

“I told you! Just looking at him once and it was like-” Wukong nodded, his own mind racing. "I don’t know how to explain it.”

Macaque was never one to disagree with Wukong’s gut feelings. His mate could peer the very essence of the truth, so of course he believed that something was odd about the child. He just hadn’t expected it to be odd and involving Xiaotian as well. “The child doesn’t seem dangerous.”

Wukong nodded in agreement. "No, he's not dangerous at all. Just a sweet little boy. But there's something special about him, Mihou. I felt it the moment I saw him at the city. It's like he was meant to be part of our lives." he was babbling now, Macaque quick to stop his mind from taking an inch and running a mile with it.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Wukong, we can't just take in a human child on a whim. There are so many things to consider - his upbringing, his education, how he would fit into our world. He is soft and fragile. His life span wouldn’t match ours. He would be at risk from demons and-”

“Xiaotian is also fragile and he is perfectly safe with us.” Wukong tried to disagree. His mate shook his head in return.

“You never let Xiaotian out of your sight because you are so concerned for his safety. Your argument is invalid.”

Wukong's shoulders slumped, knowing Macaque had a valid point. "I know, I know. But did you see how happy Xiaotian was? How they both were? It's like they found a missing piece of themselves in each other."

Macaque's expression softened. "I saw it, peaches. And it warms my heart to see our son so joyful. But we have to think this through carefully. MK has a life in the human world. We can't just uproot him on a feeling, no matter how strong it may be. Can’t just- throw him into a world he’s never known. The city and here- it’s so different. There would be no other humans around here. He might feel…” Macaque rubbed his arm. “Alone.” Then he sharply pointed to Wukong, “Not to mention-” and he made this point clear, “You are talking about adopting him, essentially. Being. His. Parents. That is Huge, Peaches.”

“I-I know-” Wukong was bobbing his head up and down.

“Are you sure?? Because you seemed convinced that was going to be what was happening when you stepped off that cloud a few minutes ago,” Macaque squinted his eyes at him.

They had never talked about having more children before. It was a… a pleasant thought, if Macaque was honest, but should never be just done on a whim. Xiaotian was so sick all the time, with his delicate health requiring their constant care and attention.

Wukong rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Then he frowned, "I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself," he admitted. "It's just... seeing them together, it felt like it was meant to be.” He says with such certainty as he takes his mate’s hands, “When I'm with MK, it feels right. Like he-” he stepped closer to his love, to his Moon, “He belongs with us. With Xiaotian." Was it truly crazy to think- that there had always been a spot for MK in their lives?

Macaque let out a slow breath, captivated by those eyes for a brief moment. They were so sincere and genuine. He gently touched Wukong's cheek with his hand, "I…” perhaps somewhere in his own chest, something was pounding. Something was screaming for him to listen but… “But we need to think it through carefully, for everyone's sake. Especially MK's and Xiaotian's. We need to think about what's best for that little boy. He's had a tough life in that orphanage.” he didn’t need to see MK long to know that, “We can't just swoop in and change everything overnight. We need to do this right and answer these questions.” false hope, false promises- he would hate to force that on a child.

Wukong's grip loosened, but the intensity of his gaze didn’t waver. He recalled how openly MK stared at passing families during their time in the city. Longingly… “You’re right,” as he always seemed to be. His clever Moon. “How do we- answer this? Do we ask Xiaotian or MK?”

Macaque paused to listen to the boys in the distance. Talking, asking each other questions- learning about each other. They were still technically strangers, even if their meeting seemed more like a reunion. “I’m not sure either of them know what this all is,” he concluded. “Let’s…” he took Wukong’s hand. “Start with a play date and dinner, just as we said.” He concluded. One step at a time. “Give me some time to reach out to Yellow Tusk and the others and understand this. Give us a both a chance to talk to Xiaotian on what is going on in that little head of his.”

Wukong agreed with that plan, squeezing his hand back. After a moment or two, he swung their fingers together. “….” His lips were squiggly, clearly eager to say something but holding himself back.

Macaque frowned, then smirked and quirked an eyebrow, “Say what is on your mind.”

Like a dam Wukong spilled, “He likes to draw Mihou. He’s creative, and is so clever. He writes notes. Notes. Has a little journal he writes his notes and stories- like you did when you were younger.” Of course they used the cave walls since paper wasn’t available sometimes- but when Mihou did learn of human journals and parchement, he was using it none stop.

Macaque lips lifted, curling into an amused smile. It was clear his mate had already formed a strong bond with the human child. "He sounds like a bright little boy," Macaque acknowledged, snorting at the feeling of Wukong’s wagging tail, “I can see why you're so taken with him." It was cute how much Wukong already adored this boy- and how much the King wanted to share that adoration with him.

Wukong grinned, his tail swishing happily. "Just wait until you get to know him more, Mihou. He's got such a curious mind, always asking questions and wanting to learn. Reminds me of a certain someone..." He gave Macaque a playful nudge.

Macaque arched an eyebrow inquisitively and crossed his arms with a smile. "Well then, if he needs some paper, we can provide it," he said, finishing by fixing the bow on Wukong's scarf. He nuzzled their noses together. “Watch those two for me while I investigate a little.”

Wukong leaned into the nuzzle, savoring the tender moment with his mate. "I will, my Moon," he murmured. His voice was a tad softer, "And thank you, for being open to this. I know it's a lot to take in." he shifted his weight a tad.

Macaque’s expression was tender, his fingers lingering on Wukong's scarf. "It is, but I trust your instincts, Peaches. If you feel this strongly about MK, then there must be a reason. We'll figure it out together."

With a final affectionate brush of his tail against Wukong's, he turned, dropping into his shadow.

Wukong's grin grew wider as he gazed off into the distance. He thought about simply keeping an eye on the boys, but where was the enjoyment in that? Mihou didn’t mention any limitations on playing. With a wide grin, he dashed towards the source of the little one’s joyful noises. As he approached, he let out a loud roar.

“Here comes Monkey King!!”

Xiaotian was shrieking, alerted and grabbing MK’s hand. “Run! Daddy’s coming!!!” He motioned for MK to follow, giggling wildly. At first surprised, the human boy glanced back to see Wukong trekking towards them in a dramatic fashion, stomping and flailing as if performing a play.

“Oh!” MK gasped They had enough time to run away, thanks to Wukong's slow and exaggerated movements

“Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!!”

MK squeaked and took off running with Xiaotian, the two quickly disappearing into the thick woods as the Monkey King followed closely behind.

The King's playful roars echoed behind them, spurring them on faster. "This way!" Xiaotian called, tugging MK's hand as they veered left, ducking under a curtain of vines. They emerged into a small clearing, sunlight filtering down through the canopy in shimmering beams. They ran past a few of the tribe members, who giggled and chirped as they ran. “Hi Taru!” Xiaotian waved as they passed one of the younger guards, who gave a soft smile and waved back to them. He looked curious of MK, but his smile was just as warm.

MK's eyes widened with wonder as they dashed through the jungle, taking in the vibrant colors and exotic plants. He had never seen so many trees before. He had never seen anything like this before - it was like stepping into a storybook.

Xiaotian's hand felt warm and reassuring in his own as they navigated the winding paths together.

"Over here, MK!" Xiaotian called, pulling him behind a large tree trunk. They pressed their backs against the rough bark, trying to stifle their giggles as they heard the Monkey King's exaggerated stomping growing closer.

"Where oh where could my little monkeys be?" the Monkey King called out in a sing-song voice. XIaotian giggled as he leaned into MK, who panted to catch his breath.

My.

MK touched a hand to his chest.

Monkey King said “My” little Monkeys. MK’s heart was swelling, feeling so big he had to remind himself it was a slip of the tongue.

Xiaotian was touching his arm, jolting MK a little. When they locked eyes, MK relaxed, sensing- understanding.

It was like Xiaoxiao could peer into his head and just knew.

No one had ever truly knew or understood him before.

MK grinned. He couldn’t stop grinning and in return, Xiaotian did the same, both covering their mouths to be quiet when Wukong got closer.

His footsteps crunched on the fallen leaves, circling closer to their hiding spot. "I hope they're not... right... HERE!"

With a dramatic leap, the Monkey King landed in front of the tree, arms spread wide. Xiaotian and MK shrieked with delight, scattering in opposite directions as the Monkey King playfully lunged for them.

MK darted to the left, his heart pounding with excitement. He had never played like this before. He brushed his messy bangs out of his face, sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him. He had only ever played with Mei like this before.

He couldn’t wait to tell her all about this.

This must be his Angel’s doing. He had never met his angel before, only getting tea left for him in the middle of the night, but only goods things had happened since his angel came around.

He must have heard his quiet whisper of wishes every night! He must have!

MK's thoughts were interrupted as strong arms scooped him up from behind, lifting him high into the air. "Gotcha, little one!" the Monkey King exclaimed, his laughter ringing through the jungle.

MK squealed with joy as the Monkey King spun him around, the world becoming a blur of green and gold. When the spinning stopped, MK found himself nestled securely in the Monkey King's arms, gazing up at the legendary hero's face.

"You're fast, Kid," the Monkey King praised, booping the boy's nose. “But, not fast enough to avoid me~ Now where is Xiaoxiao-?” MK giggled, then laughed harder when Xiaotian was jumping down from the trees above with a little battle cry. Smacking against Wukong’s face, the man yelled, “Hey!” Wukong stumbled back, wailing as Xiaotian clung to his face. "Ah! I've been ambushed by my own son!" he exclaimed dramatically, pretending to wobble unsteadily. MK giggled from his perch in Wukong's arms, watching the playful tussle between father and son.

Xiaotian called triumphantly, his tail wrapping around Wukong's neck in a fluffy hold. "I got you, Daddy! Now you have to let MK go!”

"Oh, do I now?" His father paused, body stilling and smirking under Xiaotian’s little hands, half leaning back. “A scamp is trying to steal my victory?

The Monkey Prince look perplexed, but clearly that is how this game worked. “Yes.”

Wukong considered this for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "Well, if you say that then..." With a sudden twist, he flipped Xiaotian over his shoulder, catching the little monkey by the ankle. Xiaotian shrieked with laughter as he dangled upside down, his fur ruffling in the breeze.

“Daddy! You are cheating!” he waved his arms around.

“I am not~” Monkey King sang. “I’m catching a scamp how all scamps need to be caught.”

Xiaotian wiggled, but when he could not escape, he locked eyes with his only hope, "MK! Save me!” He wiggled his arms towards him.

MK gasped, realizing he needed to do something. He looked down, perplexed. The Monkey King’s hold wasn’t too solid, so he carefully slipped jfrom his arm to his shoulder. Wobbly and careful, not even realizing Wukong was giving him plenty of time to do so, he got onto the King’s back. He scrawled across the expanse of it to the other side, dangling from Wukong’s bicep now. This took about 2 minutes, Wukong lips so squiggly as he tried not to laugh and stay serious in face of the boy’s very determined little pouts. “Don't worry Xiaoxiao, I'll save you!" He reached for Xiaoxiao’s hands, trying to pull him from Wukong’s clutches.

Wukong chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he watched the two boys struggle. "Oh no, whatever shall I do against such mighty heroes?" he exclaimed in mock distress.

MK grunted with effort, his small hands gripping Xiaotian's tightly. He yelped as he lost his footing and fell. He would have fallen had Xiaotian not tightened his hold, now dangling precariously from Xiaotian's hands as they both swung from Wukong.

“…Oh, double scamp. Score.” Wukong smirked. Xiaotian giggled uncontrollably at their silly predicament. Wukong shook his head in amusement. "Well, well, looks like I've caught two scamps! I love a good two for one deal.”

Xiaotian glanced down at MK, eyes sparkling with mischief. For a moment, it was like they shared a single brain. Xiaotian’s thoughts as clear as if they were his own. MK held his breath, dazzled as Xiaotian declared, "Together!" With a sudden surge of energy, both boys swung back and forth like pendulums, trying to gain momentum. As they reached their peak, Xiaotian yelled, “Daddy’s weak spot is his neck!”

“Huh?” Wukong blinked dumbly at them as they swung with enough force for little fingers to tickle under his chin.

Before MK’s very eyes, the Monkey King suddenly squealed and recoiled as a high-pitched sound erupted from his throat. "No! No! Not the neck!" he roared playfully, twisting side to side as he tried to evade their tiny fingers.

MK and Xiaotian made one final synchronized push. They surged forward, grasping on tight as they tickled Wukong's neck with all their might. The Monkey King let out an exaggerated cry of surrender, pretending to collapse to his knees in dramatic fashion. "Okay, okay! You win!” he released them.

The boys tumbled together into a heap of laughter, rolling across the forest floor as Wukong dramatically fell back, clutching his neck and groaning like a wounded warrior. "Oh, the betrayal! My own children have turned against me!" he mocked, his voice laced with exaggerated despair.

MK looked up from their tangled pile of limbs with a sharp look of shock. There it was again. It might have meant nothing to the Monkey King- perhaps even a slip of the tongue, but he had just claimed MK as his own again. He didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t dare hope for it, even as the butterflies in his tummy excitedly fluttered.

"We did it, MK!” Xiaotian was pulling him from his thoughts, wrapping his arm around MK’s shoulders in a side hug.

Blinking a few times, MK returned the smile, “W-We did!” they high fived, Wukong watching from the side as he lay “dead” as the two cheered their victory. “I can’t believe it. We defeated the legendary Monkey King!"

"I knew we could!" Xiaotian puffed out his tiny chest, beaming with pride. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of victory and mischief.

“I didn’t.” MK admits, shaking his head. He would never think in his wildest dream he would be here, doing this. It was so wonderful he thought it a dream. “The Monkey King is the strongest ever.”

Wukong’s tail curled a little in delight, then flattened when his son not so kindly snorted, “No Daddy isn’t.”

Gee, thanks Xiaoxiao…

“But-” MK was starting to argue.

“We, are the strongest.” Xiaotian gestured between them. Wukong curiously lifted his head as Xiaotian touched his chest, “Together, there is nothing we cannot do!”

For a moment, a dazzling and striking moment, Wukong’s inhaled sharply, seeing himself in his son. In MK, he saw his Moon. How boldly he had stated the same thing to Mihou so many years ago, and in return Mihou had said the same in his own hour of need. It was their thing- word for word.

He could see them so perfectly within these two younglings. Xiaotian was so much like himself- his face was the spitting image of Mihou, but with Wukong’s tendency for cheeky trickery. A tad reckless, but thankfully with a little more thought to his actions like Mihou tended to have. While MK…

Wukong touched his own face a little.

MK kinda reminded him of himself, just without fur. The face of his younger self. Yet, the child’s mannerisms fell more towards Mihou. Mihou was so well mannered and easy going, a sweet heart able to switch on a dime to defend those he loved with ferocity. He wondered if MK was similar. He felt it was so when he saw that fire in MK’s eyes sometimes.

Exactly how was that so? How did MK seem so much like the two of them? It didn’t make sense.

As Wukong pondered this, the laughter and excitement of the boys faded into a comfortable silence. Xiaotian had flopped onto his back, arms sprawled wide as if he were claiming the earth beneath him, while MK sat cross-legged, a thoughtful frown etching his brow.

“What now?” he inquired curiously.

“I dunno,” xiaotian says.

MK offered, “I could write down some ideas.”

“You can write?” Xiaotian asked. This was typically the age children learned of course, but Xiaotian had fallen rather behind in his studies. He hated school work.

MK on the other hand, adored it. He just wished he didn’t have to miss so much due to being sick.

"Of course I can!" MK said, a hint of pride sneaking into his tone. He pulled out his journal to show his work. Squiggly, with a lot of misspellings, but a lot of dedication to learning the craft. Wukong crawled a bit closer, laying on his stomach before the boys, curiously eyeing his journal. Xiaotian rolled onto his tummy to copy his Daddy, staring. While he himself wasn’t one for actually writing, he could read rather well.

“You do pretty swirls like Baba does.” Xiaotian pointed to it. His writing was more like his Daddy’s. In every sense, actually. In order to try and motivate his son to learn to read and write, Monkey King had also started to learn- despite insisting he would never try a few years prior.

Anything for his kid.

“Oh hey, he does.” Wukong pressed his finger to how MK spelled “Today”, the y so curly and cute. Just like Mihou…

MK's cheeks flushed a soft pink under Wukong's attention. "Thanks! I try really hard," he said, flipping the pages to show off his latest observations from their adventures. Each entry was adorned with little doodles: scribbled images of the skies—clouds shaped like animals and sunsets that dripped into the horizon like spilled paint.

Xiaotian pointed at a drawing of a particularly complex cloud, “What’s this one??”

MK squinted at it before breaking into a grin. “That one’s a cloud monster! It’s made of cotton candy!”

Wukong snickered when Xiaotian clapped. “Oh! I wanna eat cotton candy!” he looked at his Daddy. “What is cotton candy? I thought cotton was um- clothes?”

“Um- sugary candy. Pure sugar.” Wukong explained. Xiaotian’s eyes sparkled and his father poked his nose. “Too much sugar for a scamp like you.”

“Aww,” Xiaotian pouted.

MK tilted his head, finding that curious. So Xiaotian had never eaten cotton candy? He wrote down that note for himself, wondering what other things Xiaotian didn’t know about. Maybe he could teach him.

There were so many things MK couldn’t wait to tell or show Xiaotian. He hoped he would have a lot of time to do so.

“Oh!” Xiaotian giggled when MK flipped the page, pointing to another picture. “It’s Chapu Chu!” He giggled. Wukong leaned curiously to see a doodle MK had made.

To his surprise, it was indeed Chapu Chu.

When his son was born, Mihou had prepared a little gift for him. A monkey doll that Xiaotian had adored ever since. He had proudly called it Chu, later on calling it Chapu Chu, to give it a full name.

It could be coincidence, but this doodle was very clearly intended to be a doodle of a doll, with stitches and everything. “Why do you-?” Wukong pointed to it. “Why did you draw this?” How did MK know what it looked like?

MK stared at it and then Wukong, “I dreamed about it.” He says.

“Dreamed?” Wukong inquired. The boy nodded, fiddling with his pencil.

“I dream a lot of things.” Many things that didn’t make sense.

Wukong opened and closed his mouth. What did that mean? What did any of this mean?? Unsure, Xiaotian was cooing-

“I dream too!” Though, certainly not the same things MK did.

As the children giggled, MK grabbing a few more pencils so they could doodle together.

Wukong quietly watched.

What a strange, but wonderful boy….

——————

When Macaque returned later to check in on everything, the mountain had been very quiet. Alert at once, he listened intently for the sound of his mate. Hearing his heart beat, he followed the sound. It was slow, steady- the way it only was when…

When he found Wukong, it turned out his husband was asleep. He found everyone, Wukong and the kids, collapsed below a shady tree.

Wukong lounged with one arm behind his head, snorting in amusement. His other arm stretched out to the side, with two little boys cuddled against it, resting their heads on his bicep. Holding hands as they slumbered.

Macaque stilled, the sight as sweet as the peaches on the trees above them. Quietly stepping closer he knelt before them. “So much for watching them. You fell right to sleep.,” he mused, poking Wukong’s velvety nose. He reached out, brushing back a bit of Wukong’s bangs.

Wukong grunted, twitching lightly at the touch but not waking. Instead, he let out a soft sigh, blissfully unaware of Macaque’s presence. The boys stirred just slightly, Xiaotian mumbling in his dreams as he snuggled closer to Wukong, giving the same soft sigh.

Macaque smiled, warmth unwinding in his chest . It was a sight that never failed to bring him joy—their little family nestled against the sunlit grass, unaware of the world beyond their peaceful cocoon. He remembered when it had just been him and Wukong, wild and free, dreaming of someday building a life together, filled with laughter and little adventures.

He felt a gentle tug at his heartstrings as he reached out again, brushing his fingers down Xiaotian’s cheek, soft as the petals of spring blooms. “Awake or asleep, my little troublemaker- oh how perfect you are.” he whispered, kissing his forehead. Taking his scarf off to drape it over Xiaotian, he hesitated for a moment.

He looked at MK, considering the human boy. Quietly, he reached his hand out. He didn’t know what compelled him to do so…

He liked all children, but he was never too affectionate with any he didn’t know. Yet, he found himself brushing aside MK’s bangs.

A flicker of warmth blossomed in Macaque's chest, just as he'd always felt for Wukong and Xiaotian; this was something new- yet something so familiar. He was enamoured, softly caressing MK’s cheek as he had done with his own cub- like MK was his.

Who… was this cub?

What was this tightening feeling in his chest? A blissful pain was the best way he could describe it. It made his heart ache. Not sure what else to make of this, he quietly draped his scarf over both boys, ensuring they were warm below this shade.

Leaning back, he watched the three of them quietly.

None of this made sense.

Still… it was a beautiful day, and these three who danced and played in the sun, were the very embodiment of everything he had ever wanted and more. So he let his concerns settle for now.

[atzloverr]

Subby!Yunho imagines

I found these Yunho pics and literally couldn’t hold myself back (help) hope you enjoy!!!!

includes: Yunho x reader, submissive Yunho, dom!reader

MDNI under cut

Subby!Yunho who acts like a cute puppy in heat around you, not being able to stop himself from nuzzling into your neck, sucking and licking you every time he sees you

Subby!Yunho who’s too shy to tell you what he really needs, and gets extremely flustered when you make him spell it out (you already know what he wants, judging by the tent in his pants)

Subby!Yunho who gets jealous when you smile or hang out with other guys, letting out whines and grunts of annoyance when you mention another man

Subby!Yunho who worships your body, kissing every inch of it, making sure you know how obsessed he is with you

Subby!Yunho who will beg for you to let him be inside of you, even if he can’t move or cum. He’ll do anything to feel your warmth around him

Subby!Yunho who’s shy about his big cock, trying his best to not make it obvious when he’s hard (which is way too often when he’s in your presence)

Subby!Yunho who’ll desperately hump a pillow while you watch. He’ll hide his face in shame but not be able to hold back the loud whimpers and moans

Subby!Yunho who gets so embarrassingly turned on by you, even just by the way you look at him, or the way you lick your spoon can get him rock hard.

Subby!Yunho who sits down on his knees in front of you when he’s horny, running his big hands up and down your legs, begging you to let him eat you out

Subby!Yunho who can’t get enough of your taste, whereas you almost have to pull him away from your cunt when you’ve already come multiple times, he just wants to keep pleasuring you <3

Subby!Yunho who gets really loud when overstimulated, shaking and thrashing around when he feels your touch around his cock. But he’ll beg you to keep going anyway, being so addicted to your touch that the pain doesn’t matter

Subby!Yunho who’ll shyly go up to you holding a pair of handcuffs. ”Can you— Can we—” he’ll stammer, his face and ears red from embarrassment. Of course, you’ll make him tell you exactly what he wants, knowing how much he loves the humiliation.

Subby!Yunho who you love to edge, seeing the way he gasps and grunts when you deny him his orgasm. He’ll beg you to let him come, but secretly love it when you treat him this way

Subby!Yunho who needs cuddles and kisses as aftercare, who whines and protests when you have to go to the bathroom or take a shower.

Subby!Yunho who loves and adores you no matter what you think of yourself. He’ll compliment you everyday, reminding you of how beautiful you are in his eyes.

masterlist

[cosmicstrawberrycake]

sevika x dovehybrid!reader!! ♡₊˚🕊️・₊✧

gelstar's note: i've been thinking about the "gazing lovingly at his gigantic angry wife" birds and i think that's veryyyyy sevika and reader core :3 i also searched up dove mating habits and maybe im just strange but i think its cute :3 (its a mix of hcs and drabble bc im weirdddd)

kinda fem coded reader, but mostly gn!! no descriptions of the body :3

sevika met you a week after she'd lost her arm.

since she had 1. narrowly escaped death and 2. received a new and confusing arm, she had gotten the month off. it might've also been the fact that silco had magically adopted a child, and needed to learn about the basics of childcare.

she saw you walking the streets one night, right across from her game of cards.

the way your wings were spread so elegantly- it was hypnotizing. you were hypnotizing. though, no woman was worth leaving this game for. not with the amount of money at stake.

OR SO SHE THOUGHT

so, i guess you could say sevika met you three weeks after she lost her arm. because she didn't say shit to you the first time.

the second time she saw you, she almost shit her pants. mainly because the lighting made you look heavenly.

you were standing by silco's docks, painting with the kid.

the sight filled her with a strange feeling- a warm one- a feeling she thought she'd never be able to feel.

jinx looked up, spotting sevika at the far end of the docks. as her dull blue eyes landed on her, a heavy sigh escaped sevika's lips. oh god.

the little girl waved manically, an incredibly silly grin slapped onto her face.

sevika begrudgingly made her way over to your side of the dock, not bothering to try and hide her grimace...

she couldn't even lie to herself. you were even more breathtaking up close. she could barely hear jinx as she tried to explain the things that were on the canvas.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

it was clear to sevika that she was in love.

it was clear through her heart beating faster around you, her eyes always searching for you in a crowd, her whole body perking up when your name was mentioned.

and she was absolutely SICK OF IT. (note that she was not sick of you- she felt like she couldn't ever be.)

having to be at the same bar as you while you were smiling and laughing with jinx was pure torture- but it was also the best thing she'd seen in her life.

lately she was waking up in the middle of the night from dreams of you. not that it was the worst thing in the world to wake up from, but the dreams stuck with her for weeks on end.

so she finally decided to bite the bullet and tell you how she felt. it'd suck ass to have to talk about feelings, but at least she wouldn't have to imagine holding you close and kissing you softly every night.

which brings her to where she is now.

in a dark corner of the last drop, watching you say goodnight to jinx. you clearly didn't notice her- which sevika definitely should've taken into account.

this resulted in you being heavily startled by the hand on your shoulder, making you turn around and kick the woman behind you in the stomach.

sevika groaned loudly, doubling over in pain. you gasped, scared shitless about what you'd just done.

it was extremely confusing when she started chuckling, shakily regaining her balance.

you heard her murmur something about not having to defend you after all before sighing, apologizing guiltily.

she slung an arm over your shoulders, grinning at you wolfishly.

a warm feeling erupted in your stomach.

the two of you started making you way towards her apartment, sevika's brain fogged from the warmth your body gave hers.

as you arrived, she started to panic. this was the only night she decided she would have the confidence to confess- it would take months to gather up the strength again!

just as you waved goodbye, she lunged forward and grabbed your wrist, making you look back.

her silver eyes sparkled as she tried to find her words, your feathers ruffling in the slight breeze coming through the street.

finally, she found what she wanted to say. or at least her brain did- because word vomit began to spill out of her mouth.

part of her tuned it out, but she remembers the "most beautiful thing i've ever seen" and "i'd kill for you if you wanted me to".

eventually she stopped, expression hopeful and her entire body leaning towards yours.

you just giggled, kissed her cheek, and gave her a big hug.

the way your wings wrapped around her too was nice.

...she was really glad she didn't avoid her feelings this time.

headcanon time!!!!

once she finally bags her winged s/o, she is fucking HYPED

until you guys sleep in the same bed for the first time...

she tried 2 spoon you, but ur big fluffy wings got in the way 💔💔💔

the way you hug her with your wings while you guys hug makes her feel so safe its ridiculous. she loves it!!

constantly helping u with ur clothes when she can. will take u to every tailor she can just so you can get the clothing you really want while still being comfortable!!

loves indulging in ur weird little bird habits. like preening your feathers before bed- RUNNING HER HANDS THROUGH YOUR FEATHERS TO CALM YOU DOWN AAAA

once woke up to what she thought was incredibly soft snoring- it was you subconsciously cooing in your sleep

brings you little accessories to put on your wings that match ur jewelry or clothes!!

in general, she loves bringing you little trinkets! it was absolutely fucking hilarious when you found out she was imitating the behavior of a male bird.

(male doves bring materials to female doves in order for them to make a nest and have baby birds)

(very subtle way of launching your breeding kink, sevika)

i have an idea for smut lolz :3 sevika being obsessed with the way your wings flutter during sex >.<

if u want, lmk how this was!! been a while since i've written, so i rlly don't know how shitty this was...

[lev1berry]

DISCHARGED ｡ ｡ ｡ リヴァイ

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ he finds himself unexpectedly falling for you

in which levi ackerman, accustomed to a life of duty and emotional detachment, starts to change when he's injured and cared for by a nurse. initially indifferent, he gradually grows fond of her quiet kindness and begins to desire more. as his walls break down, he struggles with the fear of revealing his inner scars, uncertain about this unexpected connection.

──── levi ackerman x nurse! r ╱ ⌕ ???2lovers, fluff ∿ w. unethical relationship (nurse x patient) , romantic relationship , unestablished relationship , mutual pinning , feminine terms used , levi having a crush , brief mention of despersion , not proofread wc. 8.6k (8,611) ｡ ｡ inspired by this post by @levisrations the amount of times I rewrote this should be illegal

☆ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 resigned himself to a life devoid of love. His world was one of duty and survival, where attachments were liabilities and emotions were weaknesses. But life, unpredictable as always, decided to challenge that belief in the most unexpected way. When he was confined to a hospital bed, broken and weary, you entered his life—not as a savior, but as a nurse assigned to care for him.

At first, Levi regarded you with indifference. You were efficient, professional, and kind, but he kept his walls firmly in place. He convinced himself that you were just doing your job, and he was just another patient in your care. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, something began to change.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment that shifted his perspective. It was the quiet moments: the way you patiently listened to his curt remarks without taking offense, the soft smile you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking, the way you treated him not as a soldier or a broken man but simply as Levi. Piece by piece, you slipped past his defenses, and he didn’t even realize it until it was too late.

For the first time in years, Levi found himself wanting something more. He looked forward to your presence in a way that unsettled him, and the thought of you not being there filled him with a strange, unfamiliar ache. But with that longing came fear—fear of letting you see the scars he had buried deep within. Not just the ones on his body, but the ones etched into his very soul.

Levi tried to suppress his feelings, convincing himself that you deserved better. Someone whole, someone unburdened by the weight of the past. He told himself he was protecting you, sparing you from the pain of being tethered to a man like him. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the truth: you had become more than just a nurse to him.

Anyway, that plan didn’t work out. He wasn’t surprised; after all, things rarely went his way. Life had taught him that expecting anything more was a fool’s game. Still, he had hoped—foolishly, it seemed—that distancing himself from you would be enough to smother the feelings blooming in his chest. But it didn’t. If anything, his emotions only grew stronger with each passing day.

Hurray… What a cruel irony. Every time you walked into the room, every time your voice filled the air, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire he couldn’t extinguish. He wanted to hate it, to hate himself for feeling this way, but he couldn’t. You had become the one thing he couldn’t push away, no matter how hard he tried.

And it wasn’t just your kindness or your beauty that had undone him—it was the way you carried yourself, the way you looked at the world with such hope and grace. It was the way you treated him like he was something more than his scars, his past, or his title. You were so effortlessly… you. Bright, compassionate, full of life. You were everything he wasn’t—caring, gentle, and full of a light that seemed almost otherworldly. To him, you were the most gorgeous person he had ever met, not just in appearance but in spirit. And the more he dwelled on that, the more his hope diminished.

And he? He was just… him. A man burdened by too many failures, too many regrets, and too many scars to count. He felt like a shadow standing in the glow of your light. How could someone like you ever harbor love for someone like him? The thought was laughable, absurd even.

Levi clenched his fists, his jaw tightening at the ache blooming in his chest. This would hurt him, he was certain it would. There was no scenario where this ended with you looking at him the way he looked at you. No world where someone as extraordinary as you could ever fall for a man as broken as him.

And yet, despite the certainty of his own heartbreak, he couldn’t stop himself from caring. From wanting. From dreaming of the impossible, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You were a flame, and he was a moth doomed to burn. And somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.

In the quiet of his heart, a small, fragile hope begins to grow. Perhaps, just perhaps, you are the one person who can show him that even the most shattered souls are capable of love.

He sighed deeply, the sound barely audible in the quiet of his room, as he lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Once again, his mind was plagued with thoughts of you. This had been happening more frequently than he cared to admit, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, you always found your way into his thoughts.

Levi rubbed a hand over his face, as if the motion could wipe away the image of you that lingered in his mind. It was impossible, though. The memory of your kindness was seared into him. The way you spoke to him—not with pity, but with genuine care—was something he wasn’t used to. And that smile of yours… God, that smile. It was radiant, warm, and so effortlessly beautiful that it made his chest ache.

And your eyes. Those breathtaking eyes. They held a light he couldn’t quite describe, a spark that seemed to draw him in every time he was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse. He swore the world felt quieter when you looked at him, as if for that brief moment, nothing else existed but you. It was maddening how much power those fleeting glances had over him.

The more he thought about you, the deeper the ache in his chest grew. Because with every second spent imagining your laughter, your touch, your presence, he was also reminded of the harsh truth: someone like you could never feel the same way about someone like him. Levi wasn’t the type of man who inspired affection or love. He was stoic, scarred, and far too broken to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you.

Levi closed his eyes, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him like a lead blanket. It was a cruel torment, to be so utterly captivated by you while knowing his chances were as slim as the stars aligning. Yet, no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you. You had become his solace and his torment all at once—a beautiful dream that he could never truly hold.

It's not like it's impossible for you to feel the same…it's just that it's unlikely.

As if on cue, the door creaked open slowly, the sound breaking the silence and drawing his attention. His eyes shifted toward the doorway, where he caught sight of you peeking inside, your hand resting lightly on the frame. And then, with a smile that could rival the sun, you stepped fully into the room, your presence instantly filling the once-empty space with warmth.

Well, speak of the angel. His breath hitched slightly, though he masked it with a quiet exhale. “Y/n…” The name slipped from his lips in a hushed whisper, barely audible, almost as if it wasn’t meant to be heard. It was a reflex, really—an involuntary reaction to the sight of you. He would never admit it out loud, but seeing you again felt like the highlight of his day.

No, it was the highlight of his day. The hours leading up to this moment had been nothing short of agonizing. He knew you were busy tending to other patients, carrying out your duties, being your usual diligent self, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every second without you had dragged on painfully, each minute feeling like an eternity. He had spent the entire day counting down the time, his gaze flickering to the clock more often than he’d care to admit.

And now you were here, standing in front of him, your eyes bright and full of that familiar kindness that always seemed to soften the edges of his otherwise harsh reality. He tried to keep his expression neutral, to maintain the stoic facade he always wore, but deep down, he felt something stir—a quiet relief, a sense of peace that only your presence seemed to bring.

If he were honest with himself, painfully, brutally honest, he’d admit that he wished you didn’t have to divide your attention among others. The selfish part of him (one he didn’t even know existed until you came along) wanted you all to himself. He wanted your care, your time, your smile to be for him and him alone. The thought was absurd, he knew that. But it lingered all the same, persistent and unshakable.

Still, Levi kept those thoughts buried, tucked away where they couldn’t betray him. Instead, he simply watched you, his gray eyes following your every movement as you approached him. The day had been long, but now that you were here, he could finally breathe a little easier—even if he’d never tell you just how much your presence meant to him.

His gaze instinctively roamed over you, taking in every detail as if committing you to memory. From the way your hair frames your face to the way you carried yourself, everything about you seemed to radiate a kind of effortless charm that left him momentarily breathless. Before he realized it, a faint smile crept onto his lips, one so small it was almost imperceptible. It was rare for him to smile at all, but with you, it felt… natural.

Of course, his fleeting expression went unnoticed. You were too busy looking at him with that warm, familiar gaze of yours, the one that seemed to reach straight into his chest and wrap around his heart. Your smile, soft yet dazzling, pulled him in further, like a tether he couldn’t escape—and didn’t want to.

His steel-gray eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, unconsciously softened as they locked onto you. The tension he carried in his shoulders eased, his hardened exterior melting away, if only for a moment. It wasn’t something he could control; it was simply the effect you had on him.

What a sight for sore eyes… The thought drifted through his mind unbidden, and for once, he didn’t try to push it away. It was true, after all. You were a breath of fresh air in the otherwise suffocating monotony of his days. Your presence was a balm, soothing the edges of his often jagged world. He realized that he could spend an eternity in your presence and still not grow tired of the sight.

“I got some good news,” you started excitedly as you made your way closer to his bed, the sound of your voice full of joy. You leaned even closer, your face now so near his that you could almost feel the warmth of his breath. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly, a subtle but telling reaction to your proximity.

“Go on,” Levi encouraged, his voice low and calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he awaited the news.

You beamed, unable to hold back your excitement. “You're getting discharged tomorrow! Isn't that great?”

At first, Levi’s expression softened into what seemed to be a small, content smile, but it faded almost instantly, replaced by a frown that tugged at his features. His gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously twitching against the bedsheet. Great? How is this great? The word felt almost alien in his mind, a stark contrast to the wave of uncertainty that washed over him. Tomorrow, he would be free to leave the sterile walls of the hospital, but that meant he'd have to say goodbye. He wouldn’t be able to see you every day, to hear your voice or feel the warmth of your presence beside him.

The thought gnawed at him. Even though he was supposed to feel relief, there was a knot of unease tightening in his chest. “I… guess it’s good,” Levi muttered, his tone laced with a complexity that didn’t quite match the excitement you had shown.

You noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor. Your heart sank, but you quickly masked the concern on your face with a smile, trying to cheer him up. “Hey, you’re finally getting out of here. It’s something to be happy about, right?”

As much as Levi wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t want to leave just yet. Not until he found the courage to tell you how he truly felt, a confession he’d buried deep down for far too long. He’d been planning to speak up for ages, but the right moment never seemed to come. And now, here it was: he was being discharged tomorrow, and it felt like his world was about to shift in a way he wasn’t ready for. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind, not without at least saying something.

In a panic, his mind scrambled for a reason, any reason, to delay his release. He didn’t care if it was silly or unreasonable. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave yet. Maybe he could convince them to keep him here for a little longer, maybe even longer than that. Anything to stall for time.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice wavering for the first time in a long while. He paused, struggling to come up with the right words, but the silence only amplified the urgency in his mind. “I can’t walk with this…” His gaze fell heavily on his leg, his eyes momentarily losing focus as if the sight of it somehow made him feel even more trapped by his own hesitation. His leg was still wrapped in bandages, the healing process a reminder of the physical limitations that had left him stuck in the hospital for what felt like forever.

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you, before something inside you clicked. And then, it hit you: you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You couldn’t help it; a burst of laughter escaped your lips, light and carefree, as the absurdity of the moment struck you. The tension that had been building inside you melted away as you giggled, shaking your head in disbelief.

Levi’s eyes widened, a mix of confusion and annoyance flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected you to laugh, especially not at a time like this. “What?” he muttered, clearly not understanding why you were laughing at his predicament.

You managed to calm yourself down, though a few soft chuckles still slipped out. Wiping your eyes, you met his gaze again, your words carrying the remnants of your amusement. “Don’t worry about that,” you said, your voice light with affection, “we have a wheelchair for that.”

The realization hit him with a jolt, and he cursed inwardly. He had almost forgotten about the advances in Marley’s medical technology. In this world, they had more than just crutches or walkers—they had efficient, well-designed wheelchairs that would make his current condition nothing more than a slight inconvenience. That was his whole excuse, shattered in an instant.

Levi’s head dropped, and he exhaled a heavy sigh, trying to think of something else that could give him a little more time. But the truth was, there wasn’t much he could do to hold on any longer. He was trapped by his own thoughts, by the ticking clock and the weight of his unspoken feelings.

"I'll leave you to get some rest."

Your voice sliced through the haze of his thoughts like a soft breeze, stirring him from the swirling confusion in his mind. Levi’s heart skipped a beat at your words, his mouth opening slightly as if he had something important to say. He was about to call out to you, to ask you to stay just a little longer, to hold on to this fragile moment before you disappeared from his reach. But the words caught in his throat, and by the time he managed to look up, the door was already closing behind you. The soft click of it sealing shut was like the final nail in the coffin, the sound marking the moment when he knew he had missed his chance.

Damn it.

He let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping as he turned his head to rest against the pillow. His mind raced with all the things he should have said, all the things he had wanted to say, but now it was too late. He was left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret. Why had he hesitated? Why hadn’t he just told you?

As he closed his eyes, the thoughts continued to spiral through his mind like a never-ending storm. What would have happened if he had confessed how he truly felt? Would you have looked at him with surprise, maybe even a smile, and confessed that you felt the same way? Or would you have rejected him outright, laughed at the idea that someone like him could ever be worthy of your affection?

The thought stung, but as he considered it, Levi found himself dismissing it almost immediately. You were too kind, too understanding, to ever treat him that way. You wouldn’t laugh at him. You wouldn’t ridicule him. He couldn’t see you doing that. Yet still, doubt gnawed at him, eating away at the edges of his resolve. The uncertainty lingered in the air, the question unanswered, and it left a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Levi tried to push the storm of thoughts away, as if somehow doing so would help him sleep. He shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to relax, to let go of the tension that had built up inside of him over the course of the day. But even as he breathed in, exhaling slowly, his mind refused to settle. The image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and the unspoken words between you lingered in the quiet room.

What would have happened if he had taken the chance? Would everything be different now?

Before Levi knew it, the sun had risen, its golden rays filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow across the room. He turned his head, squinting as the light hit his eyes. The warmth of it was almost too much, so he closed his eyes tightly and turned away, burying his face into the cool pillow. The light of the new day seemed to mock him, reminding him that time was slipping away. He hadn't slept a wink all night, the relentless swirl of thoughts keeping him awake as they so often did. But this time, the thoughts were different. This time, they were filled with the image of you—the pretty nurse who had become far too important to him over the past few months.

Today was likely the last time he’d see you.

The realization hit him like a weight, and it sunk deep into his chest. He hadn’t thought it would be so hard to say goodbye, but now that it was happening, the thought was almost unbearable. How many more times could he frown today? How many more times could he allow himself to be disappointed by his own inability to act? Levi felt a dull ache form in his heart as he turned away from the sun's light. There was nothing he could do about it now. You’d be gone from his life soon enough, and he would be left with nothing but memories and regret.

The soft sound of the door opening broke him from his spiral, and he didn’t even bother to turn his head. It was strange, really—this was probably the first time in a long while that he didn’t want to see you. He had grown accustomed to your presence, to the way your voice would brighten the sterile, dull atmosphere of the hospital. But now? Now, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, even if they were nothing but a tangle of regret and longing.

"Mr. Ackerman? Are you awake?"

Your voice was quiet, tentative, like you were trying not to disturb him, but it was impossible to ignore. Despite himself, he turned over in bed to face you, his eyes settling on your figure standing in the doorway. He let out a small, frustrated sigh, his gaze fixed on you. Might as well burn your image into his brain, because it seemed like that was the only way he’d be able to remember you after today.

Damn you. Damn you for worming your way so deeply into his life, making him feel things he never wanted to feel. For making him care. For making him think, even for a moment, that he could have something real.

Yet, even as the frustration swirled inside of him, Levi had to admit—he couldn't deny the truth. These past few months, with you by his side, had been strangely peaceful. The quiet moments spent together, the way you always seemed to understand what he needed without him ever having to say a word. Those months had given him a kind of comfort he didn’t know he could have, a sense of calm that had been sorely missing from his life for far too long.

But now, it is all about to end. And he hated it.

"We're nearly done," you said, your voice carrying the usual warmth, but to Levi, it felt like a distant echo. What a shame, he thought, the words almost tasting bitter on his tongue. You were finishing up, preparing him for the inevitable departure, and all he could do was watch you speak.

“Make sure to properly…” you continued, but his mind had already wandered. His eyes were fixed on your lips as you spoke, and despite himself, Levi couldn't help but wish that you’d kiss him. The thought of your lips against his, even just for a fleeting moment, consumed him, but he quickly pushed the longing away. It was pointless. You were leaving, and nothing could change that.

“...You understand?” You finished with a soft smile, your gaze expectant, waiting for his response.

“Of course.” The words slipped from his mouth, sharper than he intended, a little too cold, a little too distant. It didn’t matter, though. You didn’t seem to notice or, at least, didn’t seem to mind.

You gave a small nod before heading out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts. Levi barely registered the sound of your footsteps retreating, already lost in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. He didn’t have enough time to miss you, though. You were back before he knew it, a wheelchair and some papers in hand, the small routine task pulling him out of his stupor.

He didn’t say a word when it was time to sign the papers, nor when you helped him into the wheelchair, the movements were automatic. His mind was elsewhere, still tangled in the mess of words he never said and feelings he couldn’t express. You noticed his silence but chose not to say anything. You had always seen Levi as someone who didn’t like talking about his feelings. It wasn’t in his nature to share, to be open, and you knew better than to push him.

You signed the papers without hesitation, before gently pushing the wheelchair out of the room. “A man named ‘Onyankopon’ is waiting for you. He’ll take you home,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

Levi didn’t respond with anything more than a dismissive “Tch.” He didn’t want to deal with this, didn’t want to think about the fact that you were finally leaving him behind. But you didn’t press him, and you didn’t try to pull more out of him. You simply continued on, guiding him through the sterile halls, knowing this would be the last time you’d see him like this.

The journey felt too short to Levi. Soon, he found himself at the entrance of his new house in Marley, the place that now felt both unfamiliar and too familiar all at once. The wheelchair came to a stop, and for a moment, he just stared at the door, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was really here. He didn’t have the words for the swell of emotions rising in his chest, nor did he know how to face the world outside, the world that seemed so different from the one you had made him feel safe in, even if just for a little while.

And as the door of his new home loomed before him, Levi couldn’t shake the thought of you, how you had been so close, yet so far away.

Ever since leaving the hospital, Levi’s life felt dull and monotonous. The days bled into each other in a haze of silence, and the once driven and disciplined man seemed to have lost all will to move forward. He barely spoke to anyone, his communication limited to the barest essentials. Meals went untouched, the food left to spoil as he stared at it, unable to summon the energy or the motivation to eat. The bed had become his sanctuary and his prison, a place where he could escape, even if only momentarily, from the weight of his own thoughts.

He didn’t care to leave the confines of the room, his gaze fixed on the dull walls as if they could somehow provide the comfort he desperately sought. Even the mess around him, a stark contrast to the spotless surroundings he had once prided himself on, went unnoticed. Clothes were scattered around the room, some half-folded, others in crumpled piles. Dirty dishes sat abandoned on the side table. The place was a wreck, but Levi didn’t bat an eye at it. The clean freak who once took pride in maintaining order now found himself indifferent, the mess reflecting just how much this entire situation was weighing on him.

It was clear to anyone who knew him that this wasn’t just a temporary slump. This was something deeper, something more profound. His usual sharp edge, his resolve—everything that made Levi Ackerman the person he was—seemed to have faded. Instead, a hollow version of him lingered in the dim room, trapped in his own head.

Onyankopon, of course, had noticed the drastic change in Levi. The man was not one to ignore such things, and it had weighed heavily on his mind. He knew the raven-haired soldier well enough to see that something was off, and his concern only deepened with each passing day. The dark-skinned man had tried to engage Levi, tried to reach out, but the silence was always the same. He knocked on Levi’s door one more time, his fist gently tapping against the wood.

“Levi?” he called out, his voice soft but laced with concern. He waited for a response, but there was nothing—no movement, no sound. Just the heavy silence that seemed to have swallowed everything around the man.

Onyankopon let out a sigh, his worry growing. He stepped back and turned toward the living room, feeling the weight of the situation press down on him. He couldn’t just sit back and watch this happen. He had to do something. He thought for a moment, pondering what could be done to help the man who had once been so determined, so unyielding in his approach to everything.

And then, an idea hit him, almost like a flash of inspiration. He’d call you.

It wasn’t an easy decision. Onyankopon wasn’t sure how this would play out, but the more he thought about it, the clearer it became that you were the key to reaching Levi. Somehow, someway, he had come to understand that Levi must have liked you more than he let on. The day Levi was discharged from the hospital, the way he had stared at you with that look—an indescribable expression that conveyed longing, perhaps regret, and a silent plea. It had been a subtle thing, something most people might have missed, but Onyankopon had caught it. It wasn’t just that Levi was leaving the hospital; it was that he didn’t want to leave you.

He had never seen Levi like that before, and it troubled him. That quiet ache in the man's eyes, the yearning for something more, something he could no longer have. Maybe that was what was gnawing at him, pulling him into this abyss of isolation. Maybe that was what made him shut down completely.

Onyankopon couldn’t ignore it anymore. He needed to call you. If there was anyone who could help pull Levi out of this, it was you. And maybe, just maybe, you had a chance at healing the part of him that had been broken all along.

Onyankopon walked over to the phone with determination, his fingers hesitating only for a brief moment before he dialed your number. He had no time to waste; Levi needed help, and he knew you were the one person who might be able to reach him. The phone rang a few times before you picked up, your voice sounding a little surprised.

"Hello? How can I help you?"

Onyankopon took a deep breath, his voice serious as he spoke. "It’s about Levi. He’s not doing well—hasn’t been eating, barely talking, and he’s practically shut himself in. I’m worried about him, and I think you should come check on him. He might listen to you."

You paused for a moment, the concern clear in your voice as you processed his words. Levi. The usually strong and composed man who had, in the blink of an eye, become a shadow of his former self. It tugged at your heart to hear that he was struggling, but at the same time, you were cautious. You knew how grumpy and closed-off Levi could be, and you didn’t want to intrude on his personal space, especially when he had been so distant lately.

“I understand,” you replied carefully, a slight hesitation lingering in your tone. "But... are you sure he’ll be okay with me coming over? I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready to talk."

Onyankopon’s voice softened, understanding your apprehension. "I think it’s worth a try. He might need someone who knows him—someone who can get through to him. I think you’re that person."

You couldn’t deny the worry creeping up inside you, but there was something else too—a sense of duty. For the short time you’d known Levi, you had grown a soft spot for him. You had seen beyond his gruff exterior, glimpsing the man who, despite his stoic nature, had a quiet strength and a vulnerability that you found hard to ignore. You couldn’t let him continue like this, not if there was a chance you could help.

After a moment of silence, you made your decision. "Alright. I’ll come over."

The walk to his house was longer than you expected, each step carrying a mix of urgency and unease. The weight of the situation pressed on you with every passing minute. What would you find when you got there? Would he be angry? Would he shut you out completely? Or, perhaps, would he let you in, if only for a moment?

When you finally arrived at Levi’s house, you could see Onyankopon waiting outside, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. The moment he saw you, his face softened, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“You made it,” he said, his voice quiet but grateful. "I’m glad you’re here. He’s not in a good state… I just don’t know how much longer he can keep this up."

You nodded in understanding, your heart aching at the thought of Levi’s isolation. You could feel the tension in the air around his house—it was thick, almost oppressive. Steeling yourself, you followed Onyankopon inside, knowing that whatever happened next, you had to be there for him. You just hoped Levi would let you in.

“He’s in his room,” Onyankopon said quietly, his tone heavy with concern. He gave you a small, knowing nod before retreating, leaving you alone with the task of approaching Levi. You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as you made your way down the hallway. The weight of the situation lingered in the air like an invisible pressure, and with each step closer to his room, your heart began to beat a little faster. You didn’t know what you’d find on the other side of that door, but you hoped, somehow, that you could make a difference.

When you reached the door to his bedroom, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You raised your hand and knocked softly, not wanting to startle him but hoping to get his attention.

“Mr. Ackerman?” You called out gently, your voice careful but filled with concern.

The silence that followed was deafening. You stood there for a moment, waiting for any kind of response, but there was nothing. Only the faint sound of bed sheets rustling from the other side of the door. It made your stomach tighten with uncertainty. Had he heard you? Was he ignoring you? Or had he simply chosen to stay in his isolation, shutting everyone out?

On the other side of the door, Levi was laying in bed, his mind lost in a haze of exhaustion and tangled thoughts. He hadn’t expected anyone to come today. After all, why would anyone want to visit him? He didn’t even want to deal with anyone, especially not now. The days had blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the last, and he had retreated even further into himself, away from the world that no longer seemed to make sense.

But then he heard your voice.

It was soft, tentative, but undeniably real. For a split second, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or if you were actually there. His mind raced as he lay still in his bed, his body frozen in place as he tried to process what he had just heard. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog in his head. It had been days since anyone had spoken to him with such gentle care, and hearing you call his name caught him off guard.

Slowly, Levi sat up in bed, his movements stiff and sluggish, as if the weight of his own thoughts was pulling him back down. His gaze flickered toward the door, and he stared at it for a long moment, unsure whether to open it, to acknowledge you, or to remain hidden within the safety of his room.

He wasn’t sure if you were really there. He wasn’t sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He had spent so much time in solitude that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone show concern for him, to have someone reach out.

But the rustling sound of your footsteps on the other side of the door, the softness in your voice when you said his name—it all felt too real to ignore. Still, he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to open up, to let someone in. But for some reason, he found himself wondering, just for a moment, what it would feel like if he did.

"Can I come in?" you asked gently, your voice filled with hope. The silence on the other side of the door seemed to stretch on, but after what felt like an eternity, Levi's voice broke through, low and quiet.

"Yeah... come in," he murmured, almost as if it took all his energy to give you that permission.

You slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside with careful steps, your heart heavy with concern. The moment you entered the room, your eyes widened at the sight before you. The usually meticulous and clean Levi had let his room fall into disarray. Clothes were strewn about, some piled up in corners, others half-removed from the hangers, as if he’d lost the will to care. The bed was unmade, with blankets thrown haphazardly across it. The room felt stifling, a reflection of the mess inside Levi's own mind.

“Oh dear…” you murmured, your voice soft, but the surprise was clear.

Levi, sitting on the edge of his bed, shifted his gaze away from you, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. His embarrassment was palpable.

"Sorry about the mess," he muttered, his voice weak and hoarse from the silence he had been surrounded by for days.

You shook your head, offering him a warm smile despite the mess. "It’s okay, we’ll take care of that." Your words were light and reassuring, meant to ease his mind, but you could see how much it affected him. Levi wasn’t used to letting things slide, not like this. It was clear that something deep inside him had been shaken, and as you looked around the room, you could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him.

In that moment, as you stood there, so gentle and understanding despite the chaos, Levi could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. The softness in your gaze, the way you didn’t judge him, made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t prepared for. It was almost like he was falling in love all over again, despite himself. He had never realized how much he had come to rely on your kindness until now.

You didn't let the silence drag on, your thoughts already drifting back to what Onyankopon had told you. He’d mentioned that Levi hadn’t had a proper meal in days—maybe even longer. Right now, he was a broken man, too tired to even care about basic things like eating.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” you said, your tone more resolute now, as if you had made it your mission to make sure he didn’t continue to suffer in silence.

Levi didn’t respond at first. He just nodded weakly, his exhaustion and emotional turmoil evident in the slight droop of his shoulders. A simple nod was all he could muster, but it was enough for you to understand that he needed help.

You left him alone in his room and made your way to the kitchen. The sound of the kettle whistling, the gentle stirring of ingredients, and the soft hum of the kitchen as you prepared his meal brought a sense of purpose back to you. You focused on the task at hand, but your mind kept drifting back to him—wondering if he’d be okay.

You made a small, simple meal—nothing too fancy, but hearty enough to give him some strength. Along with it, you brewed a pot of tea, knowing exactly how he liked it. Strong, just the right amount of bitterness, and a touch of honey.

With the meal and tea prepared, you walked back into his room, the soft clink of the tray in your hands filling the space as you approached him. Levi was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze distant, but when you entered, he turned toward you, his eyes softening just slightly at the sight of the food and drink you brought him. You set the tray down on the small table next to his bed and handed him the tea first.

"Thank you," he muttered, his voice still quiet but carrying a note of gratitude that warmed your heart. It was the first time you had heard any emotion in his words for days.

"You're welcome," you replied, your smile small but sincere as you watched him take the tea from your hands.

Levi took a long sip, the warmth of the tea seeping into his tired body. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the familiar taste. “No one makes tea like you,” he said softly between sips. The words felt heavy with more than just appreciation.

You smiled at that, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Glad you missed me. I was lonely without your grumpiness.” Your words were light, teasing, but the undercurrent of affection was there, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the faintest of smiles tug at the corners of Levi’s lips.

He took another sip of the tea, then picked at the food, eating in small bites, almost as if he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of him eating and the occasional sip of tea, but it was a peaceful silence. The tension that had once filled the room, the heaviness in his posture, seemed to ease just a little with each bite and each sip.

You stood nearby, watching him carefully as he finally ate the meal you prepared for him, his movements slow but deliberate. It was a small victory, but it felt significant.

As Levi slowly finished the meal you had prepared, you took the opportunity to begin tidying up his room. The dishes were simple enough to clean, but it gave you a moment to organize the rest of the room as well. During your time with him, you had come to understand just how much Levi appreciated a clean, organized space. It was something that had become second nature to him over the years, and yet, now, he seemed almost incapable of maintaining it on his own, weighed down by his emotions and exhaustion.

You moved silently through the room, picking up clothes that were left in disarray and making the bed with careful precision. All the while, you could feel Levi's gaze on you. His dark eyes followed your every movement, tracing your figure as you worked. Though he didn't say anything, the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. It was hard to ignore the warmth in his eyes, the unspoken gratitude there, even as he stayed quiet.

Once the room was cleaned and everything was in its place, you returned to his side, helping him sit up in bed, your hands gentle and steady as you supported him. “Do you want help bathing?” you asked softly, your voice tentative. You knew how fiercely independent Levi could be, and if it had been anyone else, he likely would have dismissed the offer immediately. But this time, there was something in his eyes, a silent longing for care that made him hesitate.

He didn’t trust his voice, the words stuck in his throat, so he simply nodded. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. He trusted you, even in this vulnerable moment, and it meant more to you than you could express.

You helped him stand up carefully, supporting him as you led him to the bathroom. As you set to work drawing a warm bath for him, Levi stood in the corner, peeling off his clothes slowly. There was an awkwardness to his movements, but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be distant. He just didn’t know how to navigate this situation, and you couldn’t blame him for that. He was used to being strong, self-sufficient, and here you were, taking care of him in ways he hadn't allowed anyone to before.

Once the tub was full, you adjusted the water’s temperature, testing it with your hand before turning to him. Levi slowly lowered himself in the water. You could see that he was already relaxed, his shoulders less tense as the warmth of the bath surrounded him. You grabbed a rag and soap, pausing for a moment to make sure everything was ready before beginning. "You don't mind, right? Tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable," you reassured him, your voice soft and gentle, ensuring he knew he had control over the situation.

Levi closed his eyes, leaning back slightly against the edge of the tub as he sank into the warm water. He let out a small sigh of relief as the heat melted some of the tension in his muscles. For a moment, he just allowed himself to relax, and he realized that he didn’t feel uncomfortable with you at all. Embarrassed, yes—his pride as a soldier was a difficult thing to overcome—but uncomfortable? No. Not with you.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that washed over him as you moved closer, the soft lather of the soap in your hands. You had been taking care of him in so many ways already, and now this—washing him, helping him like this—was something he never would have imagined himself allowing anyone to do. But with you, it felt different. The embarrassment was there, lingering in the back of his mind, but it didn’t matter. He didn't want you to stop. He couldn’t bring himself to ask you to, even if a small part of him wished that he could keep his distance.

When you confirmed that he was fine, you began to wash him. Your touch was careful and thorough, the rag gentle as it scrubbed across his skin. You focused on his upper body, being mindful not to invade his personal space too much, but your touch was soothing nonetheless. You could feel the tension in his body start to melt away as you moved, your presence a quiet reassurance that made him feel safe. You made sure to clean every inch of his upper body, your movements slow and deliberate, giving him time to adjust to each step. You didn't rush, knowing that this act of care was something he wasn’t used to, and you wanted him to feel comfortable.

Once you had finished, you carefully patted him down with a soft towel, drying his skin as gently as you could. Then you wrapped the towel around him, securing it around his waist, and helped him out of the bath. His movements were slow, but with your support, he was steady. You led him back to his bedroom, where you sat him on the edge of his bed.

Levi didn’t speak as you helped him dress, but you could see the faint appreciation in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he trusted you, that he was grateful. You dressed him carefully, making sure everything was in place, then moved to dry his hair. You ran a towel through his dark hair, the damp strands slipping between your fingers as you gently worked to remove the moisture.

When you finished, you stepped back and looked at him for a moment. He looked different, more like himself, and though there was still a sadness in his eyes, there was also a hint of something more. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was just the relief of being cared for after so long. Either way, it felt like a small step forward.

Levi looked more alive now, his posture a little straighter, his expression less burdened than when you first arrived. The peacefulness that seemed to have eluded him for days was finally settling into his features, and it brought a small sense of relief to you.

Levi finally looked up at you, his voice low but sincere. "Thank you," he said, his words carrying more weight than usual. It wasn’t just for the bath or the food—it was for everything you had done, for everything you had been for him in this moment of weakness. And despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. But his eyes spoke volumes, and you understood.

You stood by his side, your arms crossed in a playful but firm manner, watching him as he sat up in bed, his dark eyes now clearer, his fatigue somewhat lifted. “You should really take better care of yourself, Mr. Ackerman,” you chided him gently, a hint of concern still lingering in your voice. He needed to hear it—needed someone to remind him that he mattered, that his well-being mattered.

Levi simply sighed, tilting his head back against the pillow. "Levi," he corrected you, his tone almost too casual, though you could sense the irritation beneath the surface. He wasn't one for too much care or attention, preferring to handle things on his own.

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised at his sudden insistence.

“Tch… calling me Levi," he repeated with a quiet growl, though there was no true malice in his words, just a touch of annoyance. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be treated like some fragile thing, or perhaps it was his stubborn nature refusing to show too much vulnerability.

You couldn’t help but smile at his tone. It was the familiar, grumpy Levi you knew and had grown to care for. “Okay, Levi,” you said, your voice light and teasing as his name rolled off your tongue with an ease that felt more natural than it should have.

Levi’s eyes flickered slightly, an unspoken reaction at the way you said his name. It was something about the way it sounded when it came from your lips, like it held more weight, more warmth than anyone else’s. He felt a small flutter in his chest, but he quickly brushed it aside, annoyed at himself for letting something so insignificant affect him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, a soft conversation flowing between you, easy and natural. Time seemed to slip by unnoticed as you talked, the rhythm of your words settling a peaceful air in the room. For the first time in a long time, Levi felt like he could breathe, like there was no urgency, no pressing battle to face—just the quiet presence of someone who cared for him.

But as the night wore on, you glanced at the clock, and your heart sank just a little. It was time to leave. You stood up slowly, gathering your things, and the moment you began moving toward the door, Levi’s gaze followed you, his expression softening. He didn’t want you to leave, and he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to spend more time with you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it.

You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and before you could say anything, there was a brief, unexpected sensation—a light kiss pressed to his cheek. It was gentle, sweet, and fleeting, but it lingered in the air, making Levi’s heart skip a beat. His face immediately flushed, his breath catching in his throat. He turned his face away, hoping you wouldn’t notice the heat on his cheeks.

“Goodnight, Levi,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth. “I’ll check on you soon.” Your words were a promise, a reassurance that you would be there again.

Levi mumbled a quiet, almost embarrassed, “Goodnight,” his voice tinged with something he couldn’t quite name. He watched as you left the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that left him feeling a bit emptier than before.

But as he sat there, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t big or dramatic, just a soft curve that made his eyes brighten, albeit slightly. A feeling lingered in his chest—something warm, something he hadn’t quite allowed himself to feel in a long time. He couldn’t wait for the next time.

© 𝗹𝗲𝘃𝟭𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍��� 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[vaguely-concerned]

do you ever think about how, when we get lucanis' ossuary mind note on what he was thinking during the fireplace scene at the end of his recruitment mission... what's implied to be his instinctive internal reaction as he's saying "you'd have to kill me" out loud sure isn't 'and I don't want to die'. it's '(and spite would die)'. do you think spite's gremlin-y candle-hungering give-me-FIRE! >:D presence has maybe saved that guy's life even more times and in more ways than are immediately obvious at a glance. do you ever. cry.

it's also very. him that the thing that would stay his hand on killing himself partially might be that he just isn't willing to visit the same cruelty or harm on spite as zara, even when accepting his passenger spirit as collateral damage would at least offer a chance to put an end to his own pain, which at that point he seems unable to see any other way of truly escaping or find real relief from than to die. there's so much resentment and fear and other understandable fraught emotions in spite and lucanis' relationship early on, but it's just as clear that deep down lucanis conceptualizes spite as fundamentally innocent in what's happened here -- perhaps, indeed, more innocent than he manages to conceptualize himself until someone else can help him get in there and start to untangle it with him. he's protective of spite in some subtle ways right from the start, taking pains to point out several times on the jog through the ossuary that the spirits here were just as much victims in what was done to them as anyone else. when spite acts out during the fireplace scene... how much of lucanis brushing it off the way he does is about the '*actively bleeding from the eyes* don't worry about me' avoidant side of it all, and how much is him trying to shelter spite from the eyes of people he does not know well enough yet to predict how they’ll react in response — towards himself or spite. (additional idea to really bring on the heartache: do you think he has maybe intervened in pretty much the same way between illario and caterina over the years and that’s how he does it so smoothly and automatically; it’s basically psychological muscle memory. Haha. ow.) 

Between that and the pretty consistent language he uses that frames spite as child-like, even when he means that in frustration/enfant terrible flavoured terms lol, you get the sense that regardless of how much Lucanis is aware of this on the surface, there is a deep instinctive protectiveness in him for spite. I think that even comes across in the scene where lucanis tells you he’ll continue to pursue a way to separate him and spite on the minrathous route. So I was kind of picking up on/working with that already subconsciously, but when I found that note it hit me like a sledgehammer that clearly in some part at least, the reason lucanis is still here is that he knows now that spite would die with him and doesn’t find that price acceptable. Spite thinks that lucanis mentally locking himself in his (torture :() room and refusing to speak to him is an act of rejection or trickery, but to my eyes taken with everything else we know about how lucanis’ brain tends to work… as much as it’s an expression of avoidance and fear and overwhelm and trying to get away from the voice pushing him towards action when the mere prospect of action fills you with despair to even contemplate (“There’s nowhere to go”), I think it’s also a mark of lucanis’ affection and protectiveness of spite. The guards along the way make it very clear that more so than to keep the outside world from coming in, this place is for protecting people from what might break out. 

And that’s why I think this is also such a good case study to look at lucanis' internal freeze logic and why it has been so adaptive for him up until now when faced with completely impossible emotional situations to which there are no good answers or causes of actions available, even though it's inherently and unavoidably one of those 'what's worse, the medicine or the disease' solutions a brain cooks up. lucanis by the point of inner demons is facing this conundrum: 1) I can't live like this, it hurts too much. I've been in pain so long I’ve got screams where my blood should be and it just keeps getting louder, and nothing really touches or helps that. 2) I can't die to escape this, because that would also kill spite (and also I've got a job to do I guess *working 9-5 slowed with reverb and with underwater sound distortion effects is playing in the background*). those are of course not actually his only options, but in the state he's in they are the only options he can conceive of. (that's not infrequently how it works, when the suffering is that intense and unrelenting. Nothing gives you tunnel sight quite like ‘I just need this to stop’ agony that has gone on long enough to add sheer soul exhaustion to the mix)

so what happens in the end? his freeze brain -- honed, I'm sure, through many long years of attachment trauma and abuse and loss for exactly this kind of 'uh-oh. Incoming FUBAR situation alert let’s go' -- kicks into action and makes him do nothing except what's externally required of him, so he can stay just functional and momentarily distracted by a plethora of avoidance behaviours enough to get through his daily life, if like not particularly happily so... and otherwise, as it were, locking himself in his room deep inside where nothing can touch him, where nothing gets in and nothing gets out, no harm allowed to either escape from within nor allowed to pierce through and get inside. numbness isn't actually a cure for that kind of suffering, but it's the closest thing you're likely to get with any immediacy and if you’re desperate enough by god you take those. It’s how he survived his upbringing, and it’s how he survived the ossuary — as he tells Davrin straight out, the trick to just shut down every part of his soul he can to get through intolerable pain, loss or helplessness. I don’t think that mechanism came to him in the ossuary the first time, I think that blueprint was deeply embedded in his neurons and went ‘ah. My time again. Not to worry I’m a bit of an expert at this I’ll get us through this yet (though you may not thank me for it by the end of it all)’. 

In that state he's unable to himself reach out and meaningfully ask for help (and also like... why would his inner world have any framework for that as even being on the table? this has never been an option before in his life, not in any safe or consistent way; he's fucked up the way he is because the same things/people that should have been and partially, comparatively, were the sources of help and relief and safety growing up are also the sources of pain and abuse, that eternal irreconcilable ambivalence, the double edged sword of unpredictable insecure attachment), but it also keeps him from doing anything uh drastic the other way too, on acting impulsively in ways that can’t be taken back. (that seems to be more illario’s role/dubious privilege in the family lol.) at many points in his life and especially growing up, freezing and going numb around the pain is as close to having control of anything as there was any hope of. 'harm will be inflicted on me unpredictably, but fuck you I don't have to truly feel it as long as I shut all this other stuff down as well, that's what I can control' nervous system logic. (it'll get you every time.) for what it’s worth I’m not so sure his nervous system judged that one incorrectly, I think that is the kind of rebellion you would have to cling to while being raised by someone like caterina, because look at illario if you want to know how much she respects and rewards anything more overt or active. (I mean, if you don’t succeed, at least. swing at Grandma Dellamorte you’d better not miss or you’ll meet that cane swinging at you the other way and she will not miss)

I say all this because I think it's as easy to demonize the freeze response as it is to demonize anger, to conceptualize it only as an obstructive force that, as bellara puts it, is one of the purest forms of a heart not seeming to want to let you be happy, or a mindless byproduct of trauma. But in my experience, the brain doesn’t generally come up with ‘stupid’ defense mechanisms. Even in the most maladaptive of coping mechanisms, there is at the core of it some part of you that once meant to save your life, no matter what trouble it is wreaking for you today. when you look at the setup of Lucanis’ soul, as it were, you can see the dual and in some ways genuinely noble and even tender qualities this response has in him, however misguided: it does imprison, but it also protects, and it means to protect; for all the pain along the way it has sheltered all the parts of his soul that are most precious and breakable, the most vulnerable parts that want to live and so so importantly love completely and freely. Lucanis thinks he’s protecting not even primarily himself but everyone he loves by staying where he is. (“It would be better for me to stay here than to risk losing you”) A child’s logic, to be sure, but logic of a kind and clearly one that caterina has encouraged in him because that’s a conception of love it’s been very useful for her for him to have. Freeze looks like utter hopelessness on the surface, but in some ways I think it’s the utmost triumph of hope — a spare and unrelenting winter that exists because it thinks one day spring might still come, and the things too precious and fragile to thrive in your life as it is now might bloom then. 

He is an adult now, and Caterina no longer controls his entire world, physically and emotionally. There’s finally room for other things, other people, himself, in his life, without everything having to defer to the gravitational force of what Caterina wants from him at the end of the day. And while I think her jumpscaring him with the First Talon position is partly her attempt to wrangle him back into the status quo of control she once had, I’m not sure it’s going to work quite the way she might hope — at least in the Treviso saved route, there are just too many fresh spring shoots in his life at that point that could grow into something new, it’s too late to trample all the saplings growing up through the cracks in time (and indeed some of them might also fight back). (The outlook on the Minrathous saved route is um. Perhaps less convincingly immediately hopeful to me and the prospect of actually getting around to healing further down the road, but I refuse to give up on him that’s my little guy and he’s above all incredibly smart and stubborn and not a quitter and all the rest of this still remains true beneath it all, just like. Give him a moment here.) His hopes and dreams have diversified while she had her back turned lmao he suddenly keeps them with so many more people than just her and Iillario now. She doesn’t hold the monopoly of meaning and connection in his life the way she used to. And whether out of love (you know. Hope is every man’s prerogative I suppose) at seeing him really happy for perhaps the first time or sheer pragmatism, I think she’s going to have to accept that and adapt her ways of doing things with him accordingly, or else have him drift even further away from her.

Spite is the urgent impatient voice that starts to break through to go ‘that moment is now it HAS to be now. We need to shake off the shackles and illusions and face what’s actually here so we can learn to properly live now, or this winter will starve us to death as surely as anything Zara could do to us’. And he is right! As crucial as this soul-starvation landscape has been in survival, it has clearly reached the end of its sustainability, you can’t survive permanently on frost alone. I just also want to recognize the credit Lucanis (and his fucked up but valiant nervous system <3 pour one out for a real one) also deserves for stubbornly holding on in any way he had to until Spite’s true escape project is even an option for either of them. Especially since Lucanis seems to harbour a lot of self-loathing and frustration over his own propensity for freeze — “You know him. You can open the door, but he won’t walk through it”  (still one of the saddest most painful things I’ve ever heard. In case you were wondering. He knows. He knows what he’s like, and he despairs of it, he thinks it means it’s his own fault he still feels like this. Augh.) The real point at the end of the day is not that spite saved lucanis or vice versa, but that as traumatic as it was to get there and against all cultural expectations, it is ultimately their enmeshed condition, their togetherness, that saved them both. (which, again, when you consider the cultural narrative of possession and spirits most andrastian nations are working with…what a radical conclusion to come away with haha. Not unprecedented at all, if you look at Wynne and her spirit, but on a deeper and more psychological plane than ever and even more impactful for it, to me.)

[p1astr81]

(in)formalities

In which: Oscar informally meets your father, and formally meets the rest of your family.

pairing: Spider-Man!Oscar Piastri x reader

warnings: descriptions of violence, pain, painfully awkward encounters, large time skips, a bit mature near the end, use of y/n.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Mr Stark? You there?” Oscar called softly over the coms.

He was currently crouched down in a tree, having followed Ryder West all the way to a remote warehouse. It’s been over a month since his last appearance, and Stark was sure he was conjuring some up that would be rather dangerous.

“I’m here, kid. Trying to get some look inside but the drones are unable to X-ray the building for whatever reason.” Oscar searched the skies for the silent drones, but was unable to locate them. Cloaking mechanisms.

“So I’ll have to sneak inside after all.” Oscar sighed. “Why can’t I be cloaked? Like the suit has a heater in it but can’t make me invisible? And y/n mentioned that I should really get a voice changing device so could we look into-“

“Kid, these are great questions. But should not be asked while you’re hiding out in a tree.”

Oscar blinked, quickly remembering his surroundings. A turn of his head to the left, and he was met with a squirrel peaking its head out of a hole in the tree. “Right, yeah. Mission.” Oscar lowered his voice.

“Okay. Since the drones aren’t working, I have no external vision to help you out. So if you want to back out—“

“No.” Oscar rejected Tony’s proposal quickly. “If he’s harboring weapons, we need to know.” Oscar turned his comms down. If Tony tried to stop him, his words would go unheard.

Silently, he swung himself over to land on top of the warehouse. One thing about Oscar was he could make the perfect inconspicuous landing, as not so much as a tiny tap was made upon his body making contact with the rooftop.

Much like one would do if they were on ice, Oscar dropped to all fours, spreading his body weight out to continue being as stealthy as humanly possible.

Oscar decided his best choice would be to slide through the cracked window on the top of the warehouse. Any other way would be too loud.

Rather robotically, West paced along the width of the warehouse, his back turned to Oscar while he faced the rear entrance as if expecting someone or something.

Tuning back into his comms, Oscar kept his voice low and informed Tony, “it seems like he’s expecting company.”

A frustrated sigh. “Piastri, get-“ Oscar didn’t bother listening, quickly turning his comms back down as soon as he heard Tony’s scolding tone.

Despite the obvious objection from Tony, Oscar slipped himself into the dimly lit warehouse, crawling along the ceiling before finding a stack of large crates to drop down behind. He searched the wooden crates for any kind of label, but only came across “fragile” or “this side up” stickers.

Frustrated, Oscar blindly took a step backward, and his foot landed on a piece of bubble wrap. The loud pop echoed through the building. Oscar silently winced, but his heart rate spiked when he heard Ryder call out harshly, “who’s in here?”

Heavy boots prodded in his direction. Oscar swallowed the harsh lump in his throat, now watching where he was walking as he tried to not get caught.

The crates Oscar relied on for shelter quickly slid away from him as a sheet of ice coated the floor. “Ah, Spider-Man. I was wondering when you and I would finally meet.” While his voice showed delight, Oscar could see in his face that his intentions where wholly sinister. “Though I was hoping Stark would send someone less, well, puny.” A frown adorned West’s expression, feigning remorse.

Tired of his super-villian esque speech, Oscar shot a web toward his hands, hoping to limit his capabilities to manipulate the ice. But it seemed he’d predicted the move as he dodged out of the way.

Sharp icicles darted at high speeds toward Oscar. He jumped high and flipped over each of the pointy ice blades in one go.

Realizing this wasn’t going to be such an easy fight, Ryder advanced. He threw a punch. Oscar caught his fist and flipped him onto his back. A freezing cold sensation zipped through Oscar’s arm, soon realizing Ryder had been freezing his hand. He jumped back, which allowed Ryder time to get to his feet.

He threw another punch. Oscar dodged it with ease. In return, Oscar landed one to his stomach. His fist made contact with a rock-hard surface. He tried to shake off the ache in his fist, opting to kick a blow to his chest instead.

Stupid move.

Ryder caught his foot, twisting him around and throwing him to the ground. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, producing a comical “oof” sound. Oscar took the opportunity to swipe his foot at Ryder’s. Caught off guard, he fell to the ground with a dull thud.

They both recovered quickly. As Oscar went to deliver another blow to his girlfriend’s father, the ground beneath him turned to ice. It threw him off balance, and he had to put all of his energy in trying to stay upright.

Ryder took advantage of the distraction. Before Oscar could react, a block of ice the side of his torso collided with his body. The force was so strong, it threw him through the front entrance of the warehouse. The doors were torn off their hinges.

Oscar’s back collided with a tree, the contact so vicious that he was struggling for breath and consciousness. As he focused on his state of mind, he hardly heard the crude voice of Ryder telling him, “next time, just stay home.” and a laugh that mocked his pathetic, limp, form.

He was unsure how much time had passed when he finally stood and found it in himself to shamefully return to the compound.

Of course, Tony was waiting right at the entrance. He begun to scold the child as soon as he set foot in the room. “You listen to me kid! You don’t get to decide how a mission goes. You. Listen. To. Me.”

Oscar rubbed his head, trying to take in what Tony was saying but his body ached far too much to even begin to comprehend the words being thrown at him. He caught bits and pieces. Something about compromising the mission, losing valuable evidence, and getting killed.

Oscar just aimlessly nodded along until he heard the words, “now get home, Nicole is probably worried sick.”

As he always did, he crawled through his bedroom window. He didn’t even notice another presence in the room until a voice called out, “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Reacting on instinct, his hand shot out, webbing your wrist to the post of his bed. He sighed when he saw you, tearing his mask from his face, dropping down to apologize profusely and free your hand.

You faced him with a frown, ignoring his apologies and taking his face in your hands. “Oh, Oscar.” He winced when your thumb brushed near a cut on his eyebrow. Your features expressed a deep concern, maneuvering his body—surprisingly easily—to sit on his bed, telling him you’d be back.

Oscar observed his surroundings. Your math papers laid spread out on his sheets, your laptop propped open with videos on the topic open.

Right. You were supposed to study together tonight.

You came back, your arms full of supplies. Cotton pads, cotton balls, a towel, hydrogen peroxide, gauze, and more.

Guilt engulfed his every being when he saw just how concerned you were, and while he appreciated the care, he couldn’t help but feel bad for making this anyone else’s problem. He tried to do it himself but you stubbornly wouldn’t let him even lift a finger.

While he felt terrible, the concentration on your face as you cleaned off the bloody skin around the wound was admittedly very cute. And the way you looked at him with the softest eyes whenever his face scrunched up in pain had him forgetting about the body aches and got his heart fluttering.

“What did you get yourself into?” You asked softly, more of a passive question. You didn’t really expect an answer but he gave one anyway. “Just ran into some bad people.” He vaguely explained.

When you finished patching up the gouge on his eyebrow, you motioned to the rest of his body. “Strip.” You commanded, only catching your mistake when his eyes went wide. “So I could check the rest of you.” You continued, eyes to the floor and face suddenly warm.

After the bed dipped beside you, you decided it was safe to raise your eyes. You frowned at the multiple bruises scattering his chest, and hesitantly reached out. Pressing lightly along his ribs, you searched his expression for any kid of discomfort, but it remained neutral.

That’s when you noticed his pupils. One blown wide and one moderately dilated. “Oh no.” You sighed. He raised his brows at you. “I think you have a concussion.”

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “That would explain the haziness and why everything sounds like it’s underwater.” He rested his head against your shoulder, accepting a couple scratches to his head with your nails.

While his brain was scrambled, he could still make out some thoughts. Like how he thought you were too good for him. You deserved better. One month into your relationship, and he’d already been worrying you.

“Go get a shirt, I’ll take you to the hospital.” But when he turned his back, a horrified gasp stopped him in his tracks. He peered at your over his shoulder, watching as you took a picture of him. His confusion was swept away with one look at the photo.

A pinkish ring radiated off of a deep purple bruised that spanned the length of his back, and half of its width. His brown eyes met yours. The sheen of tears coating your eyes had his heart breaking. You were truly terrified for him.

If he was sure it wouldn’t cause his body irreversible pain, he’d drop to his knees and apologize until he lost his mouth ran dry and his voice was deduced to nothing.

But Oscar did as you told him to, taking care to slip a hoodie over his head. You made sure to grab an ice pack from the freezer on your way out.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

As it turned out, you were right. Oscar did have a concussion. A severe one. And he had been recovering for the past three weeks. Which meant sunglasses in brightly lit places, minimal screen time, and worst of all, no Spider-Man.

Two weeks ago, Oscar tried to convince Tony that going out as Spider-man would be fine. Just pop some tinted glasses behind his eyelets and boom, everything’s fine.

The action of you swinging around and running around will do more harm than good. And your mom would kill me. It’s a solid no, Oscar.

On the bright side, at least he got to spend more time with you.

Now surpassing two months, you thought it was time he’d finally met your family. Which led him to standing outside in the cold in his best dress shirt and pants, waiting to be let in.

Thankfully, you were the one who greeted him.

“Oscar,” you smile affectionately. “Come in, you must be freezing.” You stepped aside, allowing him to stand in the foyer with you. Closing the door, you took his hand, pecking his lips then bringing him through the house to the kitchen where both your parents stood.

“Mom, dad,” he could feel just how anxious you were as you squeezed his hand tighter. “This is Oscar.” You smiled shyly.

Your mom’s face lit up. “Oh, hi!” She briskly crossed the room to envelope Oscar in a short hug. “It’s so good to put a face to the name.” Oscar smiled politely. “You too, mrs, l/n.” She waved a hand through the air. “It’s West, actually,” she kindly corrected. “But you can just call me Cher.”

Ryder stood behind him, much taller than Oscar himself. His eyes narrowed at Oscar and Oscar’s body froze, praying he hadn’t been figured out by the man so quickly.

But he was surprised to be asked, “what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Your mother glared at him. “Ryder! A hello would be great to start!” She scolded.

Ryder cleared his throat, blue-grey eyes still boring into Oscar’s brown ones. “Hello. What are your intentions with my daughter.” He asked, same cold tone.

Cher rolled her eyes, taking hold of Oscar’s arm. “Ignore him.” She muttered, guiding Oscar through the house. “I’ll give you a little tour.”

Oscar had already seen a majority of the house from your party, but he let her drag him through room after room anyway.

When he made his way back to the dining room, his eyes landed on yours almost immediately, and took quick note of the apologetic nature of your expression. He was led to the seat beside yours. “You sit right here, hon. I’ll get you your food.” Oscar tried to offer to get his own food, but he wouldn’t hear any of it.

Another—slightly older—boy emerged from around the corner. Oscar received a passive wave from him. “I’m not sticking around for this. Gonna go get food with a few of the guys.” He explained shortly, plucking a pair of keys from a hook. “Okay, drive safe.” Cher smiled.

“That’s my brother. He’s always either not home or rotting away in the basement.” You chuckled quietly. Oscar nodded, still staring at him.

A tiny poke was inflicted on Oscar side. “I hope she didn’t freak you out too much.” You paused. “She’s been counting down the days to this.” Underneath the coverings of the table, Oscar took your hand in his. Oscar’s smile spread along with the warm feeling inside of him. It was a rare occurrence for him to feel so… welcome. Even in the presence of Ryder subzero west. “‘M honored.”

Speak of the devil and he shall come.

Ryder stepped into the room, scrutinizing gaze locked on Oscar. He dropped your hand quickly. “So, Piastri,” his tone was anything but pleasant, demeaning and almost mocking. “we never got to finish our conversation,” then noticing his wife’s glare he added, “I just want to know that you’re good for my daughter.”

Oscar forced himself to look Ryder in the eyes, trying his best to avoid looking weak. “Just like you, I only want the best for her.” Oscar tried to give his best reassuring smile. It came up strained and kind of flat.

“And you think that’s you?”

“I hope that it is me.”

“What if it isn’t? Will you break her heart?”

“I have no intentions of doing so, sir.”

Ryder cocked his head, leaning closer to oscar, his hands clasped in front of him on the table. “What about in the bedroom?”

Oscar’s eyes went wide, and you quickly gagged. “Ew dad! We haven’t even talked about that yet!” And you mom butted in saying, “this is not appropriate dinner table conversation.”

“I believe it is.” Ryder’s voice cut through the air, silencing everyone else. His eyes shifted to each person who sat around the table and left off on Cher. “What if this skinny kid gets her pregnant and ruins her life? Hm?”

Skinny?

“Ryder that is enough!” Cher’s gaze was fiery and threatened to burn right through Ryder across the table. “He is a guest, and frankly, I think he is a very sweet kid. I won’t tolerate this interrogation at my dinner table any longer.”

Her eyes shifted to Oscar and her gaze became soft. “I am so sorry, dear.” Oscar blinked. “It’s totally fine.” He shook his head smiling. But truthfully, he felt sick to his stomach and wanted to high tail it out of there before Ryder went into an ice-slinging manic.

Your hand found Oscar’s under the table and gave it a tight squeeze. A silent apology.

The remainder of the dinner was ate in near silence, only the occasional question from Cher. Ryder said nothing else, only sending lengthy glares in Oscar’s direction. He of course ignored them.

When dinner was finished, you led Oscar up the stairs to your room. “Door stays open!” Ryder shouted up the stairs. You rolled your eyes, to which Oscar held back a laugh.

“I’m really sorry about him.” You apologized once in the confines of your bedroom. Oscar dismissed your apology with a shake of his head. “It’s alright.” I’m not a fan of him either, he wanted to add but kept that part to himself. “Your mom is lovely though.” He added.

You gave a soft smile, fingers trailing down his arm to his hands. Your fingers laced with his. “I think she really likes you.” Your gaze found his through your eyelashes. Oscar hummed. “That’s great, ‘cause I really like you.” Oscar confided, tilting your chin with the tip of his finger and capturing your lips with his.

The moment was very short lived, because Cher stepped into the room. “Oh! Sorry.” At the interruption, you both jumped apart, hanging your heads in embarrassment. “I just needed to know when Oscar planned on leaving? Your father and I need to pick something up from a friends house.”

“Oh, mom we’re old enough for you to leave us alone.”

“I know, but your father is paranoid about… well,” she gestured to the bed.

“Mom,” you complained. “You’ve already put me on birth control, and dad stocked my bedside table with condoms.” She opened the drawer on her nightstand. Three boxes of condoms. All different sizes. “If anything were to happen—which it won’t!—we would be completely safe.” You sighed.

“I know! I trust you guys, he doesn’t.”

“Just go, it’s okay.”

Cher nodded, and headed back downstairs. When you heard the final stair creek you turned back to Oscar. “Oh my god they’re so embarrassing.” You shook your head.

“No funny business!” Ryder’s voice shouted up the stairs. Face now feeling hot, you gave him a look to say, see?

In response to your father, you yelled back, “Okay!”

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

There was, in fact, funny business.

What did he expect, really? Two teens in a house alone? Funny business is inevitable.

“Oscar,” you gasped out, holding tight to his flexed bicep while he kissed down your nearly-naked torso. The only thing inhibiting a fully nude upper half was your lacy bra.

The boy was nearly unrecognizable to you. A lust taking over his soft brown eyes, turning them dark. And he was so fucking cocky. Teasing kisses up and down your skin, getting so close to removing your jeans but his lips would recede as soon as they reached the waistband. Gripping your waist and your hips with a bruising amount of force.

It was like a brand new Oscar. But you couldn’t say that you weren’t enjoying it.

He kissed his way across your shoulder. “Were you expecting this? Is that why you wore this pretty thing?” He snapped your bra strap.

“Hoping,” you managed through shaky, desperate breaths.

Working his way back up to your lips, you shuttered a breathy call of his name into his mouth. He raised a brow in response. “I want you.”

Teasing, he cocked his head. “I’m right here?”

“Just, fuck…” your desperate pleading gaze had his cocky facade crumbling. “F-fuck me,” you gasped when his teeth scraped along your neck.

Lustful eyes met yours, his brows raised. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded eagerly, mhmm, you hummed.

Fingers tantalizingly slid down your body at an annoyingly slow rate. But the way his touch lit up your skin was impossible to ignore.

Landing at your waist band, fingers fiddling with the fabric, he looked up at you. “So I can take these off then?” He asked, already undoing the button. You nodded again, biting your lip to restrain yourself. “Please,” he smiled at your needy whining.

“Y/n we’re home! Is Oscar still here?” Cher yelled from the bottom of the steps.

Shit, you cursed under your breath as your father’s heavy boots began to ascend the stairs. “Yup!” You called back to your mother.

Oscar webbed your shirt from across the room, throwing it in your direction as threw a shirt over his head. He snatched your anatomy book from across the room, sitting next to you against the bed frame. The book was throne open to a random page as Ryder stepped into the room.

He glared at Oscar. “Just studying,” you smiled, hoping he didn’t realize how flushed Oscar’s face was. “About what?” He inquired, gaze locked on Oscar’s.

You took a glance at the page “Hypothalamus.”

Ryder hummed, still eyeing Oscar suspiciously. “Hm. What’s it do?”

“It-“ you began to answer, but Ryder held up a hand, stopping you.

He nodded to Oscar. “I want him to answer.”

Thankfully, this was something Oscar knew well. “Regulates body temp, mood, hunger, blood pressure.” He listed only a few.

Ryder sized him up and hummed, unconvinced. “It’s late. I want him out.”

“But dad-!”

“No buts. He has ten minutes before I call the cops on him.” He whipped around to exit the room, but something caught his eye. He reached up, swirling a silk web around his fingers.

Oscar’s web from new years. His heart dropped to his ass.

“Seems like you’ve got a spider in here.” The comment was passive, but the look he gave Oscar was dangerous. “If you find it, let me know. I’ll squash it.” His words were for you, but his eyes were hard-locked on Oscar.

He left without another word.

“Okay, that was odd.” You laughed, but Oscar felt like he could be sick. Something inside him was telling him that Ryder knew exactly who he was.

[the-teufort-nine]

The BLU Chemist Reader returns for their final fic! 11k words and about a week of work and beta reading by @pinkypiechar have led to this! I hope it lives up to expectations!

If you like the idea of a Chemist Reader, please consider checking out my longer, RED Chemist Fem!Reader fic, whenever I actually get around to writing it.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction PART 3: Chem and RED's Excellent Adventure

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort, Discussion of Poly Relationship, Crossfaction Flirting | NSFW, because while technically no sex happens, its definitely discussed/implied| Cw: starvation, mentions of graphic death/description of a corpse, mentions of pet death (non graphic), possesive behaviours ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here, as well as a particularly charming duo from the enemy team.

Scenario: Having been stranded at the new base with no hope of making it back to their team alone, the BLU Chemist must ask their mortal enemy for help. Thankfully, even a RED Engineer has some good ole' southern hospitality, and the Texan offers to get the BLU back to their team. (Un)fortunately, someone else has joined in on their little quest...

The RED team's Engineer had seen many things during his time working for Mann Co., but the sight before him now may have been the strangest yet.

The BLU Chemist, whom everyone knew had died during that horrible Respawn failure, was standing on the other end of his trusty shotgun.

Well, standing might have been too generous a word. The Merc was swaying like a sapling in a storm, trembling from the effort of staying upright. Their usually vibrant eyes were dull behind their safety goggles, which didn't hug their face like usual. Everything they wore looked baggy and ill-fitting, barely hanging onto their gaunt, thin form. They looked dead, as though their soul had been dragged back from the afterlife and shoved into their corpse.

“How the hell…” he lowered his gun, blue eyes narrowing in disbelief, “Ain't you supposed to be dead?” 

“I was.” They shrugged weakly, stumbling slightly, “Now I'm not. I actually just died again a few hours ago, and I'm pretty sure my team might think I'm actually dead. Again.”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph.” The Engineer cursed, before opening the door wider. “Well, I reckon since it's a ceasefire, ah ain't bein’ paid t’ kill ‘ya, so y’ may as well come in. Just try ‘n keep the noise down, otherwise you're gonna have 9 curious bastards pokin’ atcha.”

“I'll be as quiet as a church mouse.” The BLU replied, wincing as they stepped into the illuminated interior. “Jesus, that's bright.”

“It really ain't.” The Southerner arched a concerned brow, “You’re just sick as a dog.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Came the Chemist’s grumbled response.

“Where’d you come from? Ain’t much ‘round here that could get ‘ya killed, aside from us.” He asked, extending a hand to steady his unexpected guest as they tilted towards the wall.

“Uhhhh,” The Chemist scrubbed at their eyes, letting their hand drag down their face. Their E/C eyes stared blankly at the wall as they tried to call forth an answer. “Colorado. Yeah, we were in Colorado. We had to stop at this little town called Limon ‘cause there was a tornado.”

“A tornado?”

“Yeah. It knocked down a utility pole. That’s how I died again, actually! Biggggg ole electric shock.”

Engineer let out a low whistle. “Nasty way to go. You are one unlucky sumbitch, huh?”

The Chemist inclined their head. “Or, I’m a lucky ‘sumbitch’, depending on how you look at it. I’ve cheated Death twice now, after all.”

Engineer snorted at their attempt to mimic his accent. It reminded him of his own team’s Chemist, who was tucked away upstairs, sleeping peacefully. She often copied his countryisms, and he would sometimes catch her unconsciously copying the accent or speech mannerisms of whomever she was speaking to.

“Maybe.” he acquiesced, “Yer a right tough bastard, ah’ll give ‘ya that. No wonder yer such a pain in the ass when we’re scrappin’.”

The other Merc grinned a bit. “Being a pain in the ass is my specialty.”

Before he knew it, Engineer found himself standing in the Intel room, where the base’s phone was located. Thankfully, their Intel was still packed away in a secure safe, but even if it wasn’t, the man was fairly sure that this BLU wouldn’t try and snag it.

“Here ‘ya are! Hope ‘ya get through to someone.” He said, offering the phone to the exhausted Chemist.

“‘Preciate it.” They said, taking the phone and punching in a few numbers. They leaned against the wall, head resting on the wood as they listened to the phone ring. After a minute, they frowned, letting out a soft curse.

“Pauling’s not picking up. The storm must have knocked out her signal.” They sighed, “Great. Guess I'm waiting back at our base for them to show up. Whenever that is.”

“Are you gonna be able to hang on that long?” The Texan questioned, “No offense, partner, but you look like yer gonna drop.”

The Chemist sighed again, in a long, drawn out way, the way someone did when bone deep exhaustion finally caught up to them. The way animals do when they've given all they can, and now simply must lie down and wait for the inevitable.

“It's not like I have much of a choice. I mean, what else am I supposed to do?” They asked.

“Well,” The RED Merc scratched at his chin, contemplating if what he was about to do was a good idea, “Ah don't know if you know this, but we're in good ‘ole Texas, and Colorado really ain't too far from where we're stationed. If ‘ya want, ah could drive ‘ya on over there.”

The BLU raised their head off the wall, eyes widening in surprise.

“You- you'd do that? For me? Why?” 

Engineer shrugged. “Ah feel bad fer ‘ya. ‘Sides, if you die, then they're gonna replace you with someone new, and ah rather prefer the enemy ah know to the enemy ah don't.”

The two mercenaries stared at one another for a long moment, the only sound being the cricket song coming from outside. Finally, the Chemist let out a dry, wheezing laugh, their teeth bared in a vicious grin.

“Good God I must be insane, trusting a RED.” They chuckled, “You know what? Sure, I'll take you up on that offer, cowboy.”

They reached forward and playfully tugged down the brim of Engineer's hat, causing him to lightly bat their hand away.

“Cream gravy! Alright, let's mosey on out then. Ah wanna be back before mah team starts wonderin’ where ah went.” He said, starting off in the direction of his truck, which was parked faithfully outside.

The Chemist plodded along behind him, and there were a few times where he had to glance back to make sure that they hadn't fallen behind too much. When they finally did make it to the truck, Engineer let them climb into the passenger seat while he nipped over to the trunk. Flipping it open, he pulled out an old, well loved blanket. It was black and white and gray striped, something he'd gotten for his childhood dog, Bucket. Bucket had been a fat, lazy beagle who did nothing but lounge around and bark at guests, but the man had loved him more than anything.

Bucket had passed away some time ago, but he'd never stopped taking the blanket along with him. Now, it would finally get to see some use again.

“Here,” he passed the blanket to the shivering Merc, “It ain't much, but it should help keep ‘ya from freezin’ over ‘till the heat kicks on.”

“T- Thanks.” The Chemist replied, gingerly taking the offered fabric. They thumbed the worn fabric, setting it across their lap.

“No problem.” Engineer replied, shutting the door to his side. 

For a moment, it almost sounded like one of the back doors had shut as well, and he looked back over his shoulder, eyes squinting in the low light. His gaze lingered for a moment, but when nothing revealed itself, he slowly turned back around and started up the truck.

“Ah’ve got a map in ‘m glove box. Pull it out and let's find that little town of yers.”

The Chemist nodded, and Engineer put the truck into drive.

It was going to be a long drive.

A couple of hours into their trek, the RED Engineer noticed that his passenger was starting to droop more than usual. Worse than that, he could hear their stomach growling like an ornery gator every few minutes.

Wordlessly, he eyed up the nearby fast food places before pulling off the road they'd been driving on. The Chemist didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with just staying somewhat awake.

“You up for a snack, Darl’?” He asked, gently nudging the BLU.

“Mnhm.” They mumbled back, “C’n I have m’ cheeseburger yet?”

“Sure, we can do a McDonald's run.” Engineer replied, turning into the nearest drive through.

He quickly placed an order for both his guest and himself, paying and grabbing the food before finding a spot to park.

“Here ‘ya go. One genuine American cheeseburger.” The Texan said, handing the Chemist their food.

The Chemist stared at the offered meal, gently cradling the wrapped burger in their hands, as though it were some sort of priceless treasure.

“Engie, I could genuinely suck your dick right now.” They said softly, before sinking their teeth into the cheeseburger, not even bothering to take off the wrapper.

The RED Merc’s face turned the same shade as his uniform, and he pulled down his hat to hide his rosey cheeks.

“Don't- y’ cant just-” he stumbled, trying to make words come out of his mouth properly, “Jesus, don't eat the wrapper!”

“Sorieh, ah can't heawr you.” The Chemist replied through a mouthful of cheeseburger and cheeseburger wrapper, “Ahm too buwsy eaghting.”

“At least slow down.” He muttered, tucking into his own food.

And yes, he did take the wrapper off, thank you very much.

“Yes, please do. I have no desire to see you hork down that disgusting slop like a wild beast.”

Both BLU and RED mercenaries choked as a third voice piped up from the back, scaring them out of their wits. 

“SPY!” Engineer whirled around as the Chemist hacked up their mouthful of food, the BLU thankfully having the wherewithal to stick their head out of the window, “What the hell do you think you're doing here?! How did you even get in mah truck?!”

“I followed you and slipped into the back when you were rooting around for that rag.” Spy replied, indicating to the blanket, which had halfway slipped down onto the floor. “What are you doing here, labourer? Having some sort of illicit affair with zhe enemy?”

“If- If you actually thought that,” the Chemist coughed, pounding on their chest, “then you hiding out in the back is super creepy, dude.”

“Yeah, well bein’ a creep is about all this one knows.” Engineer grit out, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull, “But usually, he knows better than to try that with me.”

“I was simply curious as to why you were sneaking off with someone who is supposed to be dead.” The masked man said, producing a cigarette from one of his pockets, “Zhe Administrator is not going to be pleased when she finds out you have been acting rather… friendly with each other.”

“Yeah, well, what is she gonna do, kill me?” The Chemist snarked. “If she wanted me dead, she wouldn't have let Pauling go ‘n get me. I must be worth more to her alive than dead.”

“She ain't got no eyes here anyway.” Engineer added, “Trust me. Ah personally go over every inch of mah equipment and vehicles at least once a week, t’ check for any bugs or cameras. Mah Betsy is as clean as a whistle.”

Engineer moved like a striking cobra, his prosthetic hand closing around Spy's suit jacket. The Frenchman dropped his cigarette as he was jerked forward, a flicker of fear coming over his face.

“And you, spook, ain't gonna breathe a damn word to Her ‘bout anything that happens on this trip, ‘cause if you do,” he tightened his grip, the metal components straining slightly under the pressure, “ah’ll know, and you won't like what happens next.”

Spy rolled his eyes, but both the Chemist and the Engineer could see that the man was sufficiently intimidated.

“Very well, I shall be silent about your little ‘road trip.’” he sneered, “And zhe Chemist's generous offer.”

“Great.” Engineer said cheerily through gritted teeth, “Ah can tell this is gonna be real fun.”

“Yippee.” The Chemist added dully, before taking another bite of their burger.

“Wh- TAKE OFF THE DAMN WRAPPER!”

Travelling with the RED Engineer had been surprisingly nice. It was almost like being back with your own Engineer, what with the southern man being so kind and polite to you, despite you both being on opposing sides.

Travelling with the RED Spy was not nearly as pleasant.

Him and the Engineer bickered almost constantly, and when they weren't bickering, Spy started semi-flirting, semi-picking on you, which usually led to yet another round of bickering.

Truly, it was almost like being stuck in a car with two overgrown toddlers.

“Is he always this insufferable?” You hissed to Engineer after Spy started listing off all the ways your outfit was offending the very concept of clothing.

“No.” Engineer sighed, looking very much like he'd like to drive all three of you into a ditch, “He's purposefully bein’ more of an ass than usual ‘cause you're here. Usually, he's a lot more quiet.”

“I'd like to see that.” You groused, before refocusing on the map in your lap. Your previous consumed cheeseburger and fries felt uncomfortably heavy in your weakened stomach, but they did help to restore some of your lost energy.

“Okay, it looks like we need to take a left in about 6 miles. We'll be turning onto Canyon Rd.” You read aloud, “We'll be on that one for a while.”

“It's real nice to have someone along who can actually read a map.” Engineer chuckled, “Usually, it's either Scout, Solly, or Pyro who rides with me into town every time we need t’ get supplies, and none ‘a them are any help when it comes to navigatin.’”

“Heh, yeah, mine aren't real great at that either.” You smiled, thinking of all the times you'd heard the three of them bickering on missions.

“Are zhose three good for anything besides destroying zhings?” Spy asked, lounging in the back like a smug cat.

“Sure.” You replied, not looking up from the map, “My Scout's actually really good at impersonating other people, Soldier is a baking whiz when it comes to bread, and Pyro can sniff out backstabbing French bastards like nobody else.”

Spy definitely didn't start pouting as Engineer started cackling like a madman, his shoulders shaking with mirth. You grinned at the sound, your own quiet chuckles joining in.

“Hooo-wee! They gotcha there, slim!” he laughed, wiping at his eye.

Spy glared. “I'm glad you find zhe idea of me dying so amusing, toymaker.” 

“Oh, lighten up, would you.” You glanced back over your shoulder to look at the masked man, “Are you seriously going to tell me you guys don't joke about killing us?”

“I don't joke about killing,” Spy sniffed, “I just kill.”

Engineer snorted as you rolled your eyes, turning back to your map. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say, frog legs. Turn left up here, Engie.”

“No insulting names for zhe cowpoke?” Spy arched his brow.

“Considering he's been nothing but nice to me? No. Maybe if you turn your attitude around, I'll think of something nicer to call you, too.”

“I have no desire to be as, ah, close as you two seem to be.”

You gripped the seat as you whipped around again, eyes widened in anger-tinged disbelief. “Holy shit are you still fixated on that? What, do you want me to offer to suck you off too?!”

Spy recoiled back a bit, stiffening up as the exposed skin of his upper cheeks turned a shade of pink usually reserved for flowers. However,

He didn’t say no.

“Oh, my God.” You said, raising your brows as a smirk pulled the corner of your mouth upwards, “Oh, my God.”

“Merde, no, zhat’s not what I-”

“Well,” You relaxed your grip on the seat and folded your arms, tilting your head slightly as you watched Spy squirm, looking every bit like the cat that got the cream, “you’d have to be very nice to me to get that sort of offer.”

“Je vais t'éviscérer comme un poisson si tu continues à parler!”

“Now, see, I don’t know what you just said, but it didn’t sound very nice.” You turned back around, barely holding in your laughter, “No blowjob offer for you. I guess you won’t have to share, Engie.”

“Well don’t that beat all?” Engineer replied playfully, “You sure yer team won’t mind, though?”

“The way I see it,” You said, readjusting the blanket the man had given you, “you have gone out of your way to bring me back to them, and you let me actually eat the cheeseburger you bought me. They can suck it up.”

“Sounds like you’ll be the one suckin’.” The Texan murmured under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

“What was that?”

“Nothin!” Engineer replied, “Just talkin’ t’ m’self.”

“Is that a thing all engineers do?” You asked, “My Engie does that too, usually when he’s working on something.”

“Maybe. Mah Pa used to do it fer sure.” The RED Merc shrugged, “Wait, does yer Engineer let y’all into his workshop?”

“Well, he let’s me and Pyro in.” You said, recalling all the times you and the firebug had hung out in the space, “Sometimes Medic is allowed in, but everyone else gets the boot, unless he calls them in to help him with something.”

“Interesting.” Spy said, apparently having recovered from his embarrassment enough to speak, “Zhis one has barred us all from entering his sacred domain. Not even our Chemist get’s zhat privilege. You must mean quite a bit to him.”

“If y’all didn’t go ‘round putin’ yer grubby mitts all over everything, maybe I would let y’ in.” Engineer smacked the steering wheel, frustration in his tone, “Honestly, it’s like herdin’ cats when I let y’all anywhere near mah stuff! ‘Sides, don’tcha remember what happened the last time I let someone play around with mah equipment, Spy?”

“Oui.” Spy shuddered, “I don’t zhink we will ever fully get zhe smell of bread yeast out of zhat base.”

“I’m sorry- bread yeast?” You shot the two RED members a confused look, “What does bread have to do with you not letting anyone near your stuff?”

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we got the time.” Engineer cleared his throat, “It all started one afternoon. We’d just got done killin’ yer team and makin’ off with yer Intelligence…”

Engineer and Spy’s wild tale of love, RED victory, and bread monsters kept you entertained for the next few hours or so, the three of you eventually getting sidetracked by various other topics. By the time the sun started to rise over the Colorado horizon, the conversation had switched to being about everyone’s favourite foods.

“Look, there ain’t nothin’ better fer breakfast than a nice cup’ a coffee, bacon ‘n eggs with a side of buttered toast, biscuits, and sausage gravy ‘n grits.” Engineer said, voice full of confidence.

“I think I would actually explode if I ate all of that.” You stuck out your tongue, feeling ill at just the thought of eating so much food. If this man ate like that every morning, then it was no wonder that he sported such a plump figure in comparison to most of his other teammates.

Not that you were complaining.

“I agree, mon petit saphir.” Spy said, curling his lip. “Zhat is a disgusting amount of food for zhe very first meal of zhe day.”

“Ooh, whatever that name was, it sounded a lot nicer.” You said teasingly. “See? I knew you could do it!”

“Well would ‘ya look at that? You actually got him to simmer down.” Engineer grinned, ducking when Spy swiped irritably at his head, “Maybe you should come join up with RED. We could probably stash you away somewhere, hand y’ over to Spy when we need him to settle.”

You laughed, imagining yourself with a little service animal harness. “Tell you what, If my team decides to murder me for dying again right in front of ‘em, I’ll switch sides.” 

“Heh, partner, you’ve got yerself a deal.” Engineer stuck out his hand, and you gripped it, giving it the best shake your weak arms could manage. 

“It seems as zhough you’ll be making your decision sooner rather zhan later.” Spy leaned forward and pointed at an upcoming road sign, which read “Limon Welcomes You!”

“Oh SHIT we’re here!” You sat forward quickly, before wincing and holding your head, “Oh, woof, headrush. That was a bad idea.”

“Good Lord, this place has seen better days.” Engineer said, gazing at the many fallen tree branches and damaged buildings, “Where did you say y’all were stayin’ again?”

“We sheltered in an old garage near the outskirts of town.” You replied, wincing at the amount of damage you saw, “I hope they haven’t gone too far, but I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to get away as soon as possible.”

“I doubt zhey wanted to linger around your charred corpse.” You nodded grimly at Spy’s comment, not particularly looking forward to seeing it yourself, but needing to check if your team was still around.

Soon enough, the three of you pulled up to the abandoned mechanic shop. The building looked even worse than when you had last seen it, and the lack of nearby vehicles did not make you feel particularly hopeful that you would find your team here. Still, your temporary RED companion pulled over and hopped out of his truck, putting a steadying hand on your shoulder when he saw you struggling to maintain your balance. Spending so many hours sitting down did not help your already weak legs to support your weight. Stepping inside the building proper, you were careful to avoid the downed utility pole and various cables. Only a few feet away from the door lay an unmoving mass with a familiar colour scheme.

Seeing your own dead body never got any less unsettling. Usually, it was blown into unrecognizable pieces, or shot so full of bullet holes that it resembled red and blue swiss cheese, but this time it was wholly intact, save for the skin that had burned and blackened from the intense heat of the electricity that had rocketed through your body. The stench of burnt clothes, hair, skin, and the early stages of rot permeated the still air, and you quickly tugged your respirator on in disgust. 

“Eugh, thank God I ate earlier, because I think I just lost my appetite.” You scrunched your nose, pulled down your goggles over your eyes, and began gathering chemicals from the various pockets and vials on your person. “Step outside, gentlemen, I’ll have this gone in a moment.”

The two RED’s quickly nodded and left, eager to get away from the smell and knowing exactly how dangerous your materials could be.

After a few minutes and a decent amount of hydrogen fluoride and antimony pentafluoride later, you emerged from the workshop’s interior to see Engineer kneeling on the ground, looking at some tire tracks that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Looks like they turned themselves ‘round and went back the way they came. They’re probably takin’ one’a the nearby backroads.”

“Think you can catch up to them?” You asked, praying that you wouldn’t have to return to your new base without your team. You wouldn’t be able to make it by yourself, and you doubted that the rest of the RED team would be as kind and hospitable as their Engineer had been.

The Texan gave you a sharp grin as he pushed himself up, dusting off his overalls.

“Do sheep wear sweaters? Hop in, and ah’ll show ‘ya just how fast ol’ Betsy can be.”

If you asked Florence if she knew her mercenaries well, you’d probably end up with a bullet in your skull, because you were not supposed to know about her mercenaries. Well, technically, they were Reliable Excavation & Demolition and Builders League United’s mercenaries, and, really, the Administrator’s above even them, but she was the one who scouted them out, checked in on them, interacted with them, gave them their assignments, and helped cover up their fuck ups. 

So, yeah, they were her mercenaries. And you weren’t supposed to know about them, so now you’re lying in a shallow grave after getting very well acquainted with her hacksaw.

But if she pondered your question after the fact, then she’d say that, yeah, she did. She’d spent almost all of her very limited free time around them for the last few years, after all, and she kept an eye on them through the various hidden cameras almost as much as her boss did. She knew both teams equally well, easily picking out each of their many similarities, as well as all their little quirks and differences. For example, she knew that the RED Scout had far more freckles than the BLU one. She knew that the BLU Soldier was actually slightly more tame than his counterpart, and that he wore earplugs more often than not, though he is dedicated to never ever letting anyone find out. She knew that both Pyro’s were afraid of the dark, and she knew the exact brand of cigarettes the Spies liked to order.

She knew that both teams were full of loud, borderline rabid, bat-shit insane lunatics that enjoyed the thrill of killing almost as much as she did, maybe even more. She knew, from experience, just how difficult it was to get most of them to quiet down.

Which is what made the situation she was in so damn eerie.

She was back in Spy’s car, having taken the now available passenger seat. Her eyes kept flicking to the neatly folded blanket in Spy’s lap, its minky blue fabric still damp from the rain. The car was silent, save for the occasional muffled wheeze from Pyro, who had just about cried themself hoarse. Medic was sitting next to the arsonist, hands folded as he stared out the window. To a regular onlooker, he likely would have appeared chillingly nonchalant or uncaring. However, as has been established, Florence Pauling personally knew the men she hired to kill each other, and so she was able to see the little cracks in the man’s facade; the way his lips twitched occasionally, like they almost started to wobble before he caught himself, the slow, controlled breaths he was taking, the way his eyes were wet behind his glasses.

Spy was much the same; a perfect picture of poise and aloofness, unless you knew where to look. His suit had been left lightly rumpled, his expensive leather gloves creaked when his hands shifted, showing just how hard he was gripping the wheel, and his mouth was set in an unnaturally tense line. Occasionally, one of his hands would release their death grip on the steering wheel and slip down to feel the blanket in his lap, gently rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

None of them spoke. 

What was there to say? What could any of them possibly say to make this situation better? 

What could she say? ‘Sorry for your loss, let me fax you those application forms Medic shredded?’ ‘I know you’re mourning, but we need to hurry up and get back so you can all go back to killing the RED team, which still has their Chemist?’ 

No, silence was the better option here by far.

The purple-clad woman leaned back in her seat, head resting against the window as she committed to memory the sound of a tired yet happy voice saying her name, and the feeling of gloved hands pushing her back towards safety. It was better to think of that, rather than the sight of the BLU Chemist’s body spasming wildly before collapsing to the ground, their smoking body giving a few last jerking, dying nerve reactions. 

As she stared out into the vast, dusty nothingness of the New Mexico landscape, something odd began to appear in the corner of her vision. At first, she thought it was a mirage, a strange flash of red in an otherwise sky blue and sand yellow landscape. 

But then it didn’t go away. 

In fact, it actually began to get bigger, becoming clearer and more defined as whatever it was drew closer. On instinct, she reached for the radio and tuned it to a specific frequency, drawing confused looks from her fellow passengers.

“Guys, I don’t want to alarm you, but something’s coming at us. Fast.” she said, leaning in close to the speaker.

“What zhe hell?” Spy said from her left, taking his eyes off the road to squint towards the horizon.

Pyro and Medic peered outside as well, squeezing in close so they could both get a look at the strange thing that was approaching.

“Sniper, can you get eyes on that thing?” Engineer asked over the radio.

Yeah mate. Just gimme a sec.” came the marksman’s reply.

Turning around in her seat, the raven could see Sniper’s van through the rear window. The man was in the passenger seat now, holding up his rifle and peering through the scope. After a moment, he jerked back, a look of shock on his face. He ducked his head back down to look again, as though he wasn’t sure he’d seen something right. In the driver’s seat, Heavy, who had taken the wheel, gave his teammate a confused and slightly concerned look.

Sniper lowered his rifle after another few moments passed, sliding back into his seat as he shouted something to Heavy, who’s confusion visibly deepened. The Russian did a double take when the marksman said something else, and he quickly said something back to the Australian, who shook his head and pointed out towards the still encroaching… whatever it was.

“Sniper wants team to slow down.” Heavy relayed, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t onboard with the idea. “Says that he… believes he saw leetle Chemist.”

“Oh joy,” Spy snarled, baring his teeth in clear disdain as he spoke into the radio, “our Sniper has finally lost it. I knew too much time spent in zhat deathtrap of his would eventually get to him.”

“Ah hate ‘t say it, but ah agree with Spy. We all- we all saw what happened to ‘em. Even if they survived comin’ back again, they'd have died of exposure, thirst, or starvation by now.” Engineer added glumly, “‘Sides, how in the Sam Hill would they get all the way out here? Snipes, ah think you should maybe go lie down for a bit while we deal with whatever's chasin’ us.”

“What is that?” Pauling asked in a low whisper, rolling down her window to get a better view.

Tuning out the sound of fully grown men bickering behind her, she focused on the anomaly. It was a bright, almost familiar shade of red, and it was kicking up quite a bit of dust as it moved across the desert. Pushing herself slightly out of the window, she picked up on the faint sound of… an engine?

Wait a damn minute.

Wait a Goddamn fucking minute.

Faster than a striking rattlesnake on cocaine, Pauling whipped her phone out and began dialing, holding it up to her ear. After a few rings, a man answered in a thick, smug-sounding Southern drawl.

“Why hello Miss Pauling! To what do ah owe the pleasure?”

“Engie, you fucking asshole!” Florence screeched, getting a confused, offended yell from the BLU Engineer, who could still hear what was being said over their shared transmission, “Did you seriously find the BLU Chemist and not tell me?! Do you know how mad the Administrator was going to be at me?!”

She could hear the RED Spy's telltale snorting cackles in the background of the call, while his BLU counterpart looked the farthest thing from amused.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est? Il vaut mieux que ce ne soit pas une mauvaise blague, sinon je jure devant Dieu que je tâcherai de rouge le sable autour de moi.” he growled as he began to slow down, shooting a deadly glare at what was now obviously a RED vehicle, likely their Engineer's truck.

“Woah now lil’ missy, we didn't mean any harm by it. You were outta range back at the base, and ah just figured it'd be easier to just deliver ‘em right to ‘ya.” The RED chuckled, “Iffen y'all are lookin’ t’ shoot us as soon as we come near, though, then we can always keep ‘em. They make pretty good company, and ��ah know Spy likes ‘em well enough to help vouch for ‘em to the rest of the team.”

“Shoot you, what are you-” the young woman turned around, spotting several members of BLU pointing their weapons at the approaching REDs, “Scout, Soldier, Sniper! Put your guns away- Engie DROP IT!” 

The other Texan had been gearing up to toss down a mini sentry, but paused at his boss’s shout. Disgruntled, he acquiesced, dropping the beeping little robot back down onto the seat.

“Now that's a might bit better. Chem, you wanna take over communications?” The RED Engineer said, before sounds of rustling fabric and a quiet ‘Thank you!’ came over the line.

“Hey, P.” Pauling could almost hear the smile in the other's voice, something that was rather impressive, given the explosion of noise that came over the radio at the sound, “Guess who's two for two on kicking Death's ass?”

“Hello, Chemist.” She replied softly, smiling back, “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine!” The mercenary replied quickly, sounding tired, but cheerful, “These two have been great company. Well, Engie has, at least- Spy I'm kidding- and guess what? I finally got my cheeseburger!”

“Zhose are not vhat you should be eating!” Medic chastised from the back, “Zhey are nothing but empty calories! 

“Shut up! I was hungry, and Sniper didn’t let me have mine!”

“Chem,” Pauling interrupted, not wanting to be caught in the middle of another argument, “I’m happy you’re alive, really, I am, but how did you get here?”

“Oh, I Respawned at the new base. I guess the system kicked on because the other team was already there.” the Chemist explained, “I tried calling you, but it didn’t go through, so Engie offered to take me so I didn’t, you know, curl up and die.”

“I… wow, that was really nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was. I seriously owe him for this. I’ll have to buy him a nice dinner some time, or, uh,” they snickered, clearly trying to muffle their laughter, “do something for him.”

Florence got the feeling that she was missing something here.

Judging by the intense glares and scowls Medic, Spy, and likely Pyro were directing towards the truck, which was now close enough for her to pick out details, she knew she wasn’t the only one who picked up on the Chemist’s friendly tone.

“Whatever it is you two end up doing, just remember that, if you want me to not have to rat you out, the Administrator cannot know about it, which means I can’t know about it.” the purple-clad woman stressed.

“I would certainly like to know what zhat cow-boy analphabète believes our Chemist shall be doing for him.” Spy muttered lowly, finally bringing the car to a stop as the RED Engineer’s truck parked on the dusty scrubland a few feet away from them.

“No fighting guys. We don’t need anyone else having to risk not coming back.” Florence warned.

Like a pack of stalking wolves, the nine BLU mercenaries leapt out of their respective vehicles and formed an almost defensive group, most of them having only heard bits and pieces of the phone call, but understanding that they were not here to fight. They walked with an air of tenseness, hands flexing as they resisted the urge to reach for their weapons, clearly feeling uneasy in this unprecedented situation.

Still, there was a clear feeling of nervous excitement. The emotional whiplash of the past few hours had left their emotions raw and more sensitive than usual. All of them stopped when the passenger door of the dusty red truck opened with a soft ‘click!’, the wearily smiling face of their teammate popping up over the metal as they shuffled carefully towards the road.

“CHEM!” Scout yelled, unable to hold himself back anymore. A fond smile made its way onto Pauling’s face as she watched the young Bostonian dash over and scoop the other mercenary up, spinning them around for a moment before gently setting them back down on their feet.

Like deadly, man-slaughtering ducklings, the rest of BLU followed after, warmly welcoming their missing friend back into the fold. Medic was on the Chemist in an instant, examining them while asking more questions than was probably necessary. Soldier gave them what was likely meant to be a gentle pat on the back, but which ended up nearly sending poor Y/N to the ground. 

Meanwhile, Pauling, Spy, and Engineer moved to greet the RED team members, who were stepping out of the vehicle themselves. The two men at Pauling’s side kept their professional appearances well, but she knew they’d like nothing more than to give into their instincts and go for their counterparts’ throats.

“Hey guys,” Florence started, hoping to make this conversation as smooth and bloodshed-free as possible, “thank you so much for bringing the Chemist back. I’ll arrange for your team to get a bonus or something for this, I promise.”

“Aw shucks,” the RED Engineer replied, tipping his hat, “it weren’t no trouble. Ahm sure y’all woulda done the same if y’ were in our shoes.”

“But of course.” the BLU Spy responded, “We’re mercenaries, not monsters.”

“What you are is lucky. Your Chemist should have never survived zhe first time, let alone a second.” the opposite colour Frenchman said, producing a cigarette to light, “Tell me, has your team figured out why Respawn went down?”

The BLU Engineer frowned. “Can’t say we have. I reckon y’all haven’t either, then?”

“Unfortunately not. It's got our team all twisted up with worry, ‘specially our Chemist. The stress has been makin’ her feel just plum awful these past few days.” the crimson-clad Texan sighed, pushing up his goggles to pinch the area between his eyes, “To be honest wit ‘ya, ah’d somewhat hoped that travelin’ with yer one might’a given me some answers, or at least an idea of what went wrong, but ah couldn’t find one single tell. If yer feelin’ amicable enough, ah’d like to work with ya t’ find the problem, so we can all stop bein’ so damn nervous.”

“Hmm.” the BLU Engineer hummed, resting a hand on his chin before glancing over at his boss, “Would that be alright, Miss Pauling?”

Florence adjusted her glasses and nodded. “Usually it wouldn’t, but under these circumstances, I’m sure the Administrator will understand.”

Suddenly, she jumped, remembering something.

“Oh, shit! Guys, we actually need to get going! I need to give the RED Chemist a contract and, like, a thousand other things that have been piling up since I’ve been gone.” She said apologetically, before turning to the RED team members, “Do you two mind if I ride back with you?”

“‘Course not.”

“It’s always a pleasure to have you around, mademoiselle.”

“Okay, great!” the raven said, smoothing down her skirt. She looked over at her companions, tilting her head slightly, “You’ll be fine getting back, right?”

They nodded, and started walking back over to rejoin their teammates. They explained that their employer wouldn’t be coming back with them, and, to her surprise, Chemist pulled away from the rest of the BLUs, walking as fast as they could over to her.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask if you were alright before you left.” The goggle-wearing chemist said, their worry clear in their voice as they laid a hand on her shoulder, “You were pretty close to that powerline too, and I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten injured or not.”

“I’m fine, Chem.” Florence reassured, giving her friend a smile, “My clothes are going to smell like burned cloth and skin for a bit, but that’s it. You got me out of the way in time. Thank you, for that, by the way.”

The Chemist inclined their head, smiling back before turning their attention to the two RED Mercs. “You two get her back safe, understand? I’d hate to have to kill you permanently after all this.” they joked, pointing a ‘stern’ finger at them.

The RED Engineer raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Darl’, she’ll get there right as rain.”

He stepped forward, took the white cowboy hat off his head, and plopped it down onto the Chemist’s, tugging it down gently to secure it.

A few feet away, the other Engineer’s mechanical hand nearly crushed his gun as he shot daggers at his counterpart. 

“Y’ can give me that back when y’all finally show up at the base.” he smirked, “And, iffen yer still up for it, ah think I’ll take ‘ya up on that offer of yours from earlier.”

The Chemist turned a very interesting shade of pink as they tipped the brim of the hat up slightly, revealing that their pupils were blown wide.

“Mnhm, sounds good.” they replied softly, before spinning on their heels and making a beeline for their teammates. 

“I-” Florence started, before cutting herself off, 

“You know what? It’s better if I don’t know what that’s all about.”

You watched as the RED Engineer, Spy, and Miss Pauling drove off, waving to them as best you could.

“Well, ain’t you ‘n them real close.” Engineer said in a tight voice. While it was quite hard to tell where the man was looking most of the time, you got the distinct feeling that he was staring at your new accessory.

“I had to listen to them argue for, like, half the trip.” You replied, “If you come out of that having not murdered them or killed yourself, then it's because you learned to like them.”

“Kinda sounded like you didn’t just like ‘em.” Scout pouted, crossing his arms, “What the hell did youse three get up to?”

“Well let’s see.” You raised your hand, ticking off your fingers as you recounted your joyous road trip shenanigans, “I got the ever loving shit scared out of me by the RED Spy, melted my own corpse, got a cheeseburger so absolutely scrumptious I offered to suck off the RED Engineer,”

“You did what now?!” your Engineer yelped.

“I listened to two fully grown men bicker like toddlers, got regaled with a tale of bread monsters, got my outfit called every French insult under the sun, and passed out from, like, severe malnutrition, probably.” You finished.

“Uh, can we walk that back a couple’a steps, mate?” Sniper asked, flushing pink.

“What, you mean the bread monster? Yeah, no, I didn’t believe it at first either, but Spy swears-”

“Not the bloody bread monster, ya daft tit!” Demo groaned, slapping a hand onto his face, “Why the bleedin’ hell are ya offerin’ t’ give our enemy a gobble?!

“Dear GOD, have they brainwashed you?!” Soldier gasped suddenly, “I swear, I will hunt down each and every one of those communist RED bastards if they so much as touched-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You rushed to clear up the misconception, “Easy, Sol! No one did anything to me, I promise. I’m still one hundred percent me.”

“Zhen vhy…?” Medic questioned, coughing into his gloves as he trailed off.

“It started as just a joke, honestly. I wasn’t seriously thinking about acting on it at first, but when their Spy accidentally revealed that he was jealous, I started thinking about it a little bit more.” You shrugged, “Plus, well… he’s hot! And he’s nice! And he’s clearly into the idea, so… why not?”

“Why not? Why not?” Spy growled, “Because you are ours! You wear zhe same uniform and kill zhe same men as us! You are a member of BLU, and your standards should be higher zhan zhe first, non, not even zhe first, man who shows even zhe slightest interest in you! Il n’y a aucune raison de se prostituer à ce gros, analphabète Texan!”

You threw your hands up into the air, letting out your own growl of annoyance.

“Look, unless one of you is going to help me take care of my needs when I’m better, I’m walking my ass over to that pretty little base they have!” You stated firmly, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up in a petty, almost defiant way. “Maybe I’ll even proposition the rest of ‘em, I don’t know!”

“Oh my freakin’ GOD!” Scout yelled, “We are literally right here! I don’t know a guy on this team that wouldn’t fuck you if you just asked!”

There was a moment of silence after that sentence, the Bostonian’s words echoing slightly in the empty desert scrubland. The ten of you all stood there, turning red from something that wasn’t the harsh New Mexico sun.

Heavy made a sound first, awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“Scout is- what is word- tactless, but he is also… not wrong.”

“Er, yeah,” Sniper scratched at the back of his neck, “the big guy's got it right. It's just we, uh…”

“Mh muph mmnmnh mhmh.” Pyro finished, talking animatedly with their hands.

“The arsonist is correct.” Spy agreed, still looking a bit flustered under his mask, “This is far from something that is easily brought up.” 

You blinked slowly at your team, absorbing the information. Now, technically, you'd heard this all before, right before you'd died, but hearing it again solidified it in your mind as being real. 

“Well shit.” You swore, planting your hands on your hips, “We all could have been a lot happier ages ago, huh?”

The gathered mercenaries made various sounds of awkward agreement.

“Okay, we definitely need to talk about this, and I mean a real conversation, not all of us standing around like idiots, cooking our brains in the sun while we all blush over the fact that you'd all like a piece of me.” You said, “But I think I'd rather talk in the comfort of our base, wouldn't you all agree?”

Your teammates nodded in agreement, dispersing into their chosen groups as they started back towards your vehicles.

“Yo, Chem, you ridin’ with us?” Scout asked hopefully, hooking his arm beneath yours instinctively as you wobbled slightly. He looked as though he was still feeling a bit hot under the collar, but was doing his very best to keep your conversation casual. 

“Sorry, Scout, but I think I’m gonna pass out soon if I don’t lay down.” you admitted. “I promise I’ll spend some time with you when we get back. Maybe I could help you pack when I’m feeling a bit better?”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout it. You should focus on gettin’ bettah first.” Scout replied, leading you towards Sniper’s campervan, “‘Sides, I already packed up most of my crap, and I think Pyro handled your stuff, so you can just take it easy. Pretty sure the Doc is gonna make you stay in the Medbay, anyway.”

“Scout is correct, mein Chemiker.” Medic piped up, matching your slow, careful stride as he came up beside you, “Now don’t give me zhat face; it vill only be for a few days. I just want to ensure that jou are okay after going through Respawn again in jour state.”

Your expression, which had been one of pouty, light annoyance at being forced into mandatory bedrest in the Medbay, softened a bit. You could hear the genuine concern in the German’s voice, and you knew he had good reason to be. You yourself were worried that something might have gotten messed up, and you knew you were due for another round of supplement shots.

Still, it was going to suck to not be in your own room, surrounded by your familiar comforts. You knew that you’d have a lot of pent up energy by the time you got out.

Huh, actually… you could think of a few fun ways to burn off any excess energy.

“Okay, Doc, I’ll come to my appointment, I promise.” you said, smiling, “But this time, I get to choose the operating room music. You’re not cutting me open to Lili Marlén again.”

“But jou said zhat jou enjoyed it last time! Lale Andersen has zhe voice of ein Engel.” Medic pouted.

“Yeah, but if you keep playing it while you're dissecting my spleen, I’m always going to associate it with getting picked apart like a biology student’s frog.” you explained, “I won’t pick anything too bad, swear on my good beakers!”

“Hmph, I vill hold you to zhat.” the doctor warned teasingly, “Zhere vill be no more ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch’ in my operating room.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.” you teased right back, sticking your tongue out at the man as Scout handed you off to Sniper, who had a fond, lopsided smile on his face. “Hey there, Stretch. Mind helping me to the bed?”

“Not at all, mate.” Sniper replied, laying a warm, sturdy arm across your shoulders, “Not at all.”

Sure enough, after around two weeks of being kept in the Medbay upon your return, your prediction of being just about ready to explode with unreleased energy had proven to be true. Your organs had actually suffered a bit of damage this time around, which had necessitated a longer stay. On top of that, you had needed to move to the new base midway through your treatment, which hadn’t helped things. However, this also meant that Medic could focus on accelerating your healing, and by the time you pranced out of those swinging double doors, you were feeling like your old self again.

Scout and Soldier were waiting there for you, just as they had been on the day you’d failed to come back.

“Heyyyyy, there you are! Freakin’ finally.” Scout whooped, bringing you into a tight hug. You returned it, squeezing back with all your regained strength, “Oof! Yup, you’re bettah alright!”

“Sure am.” you grinned, before releasing the Bostonian to tackle Soldier, who grinned and crushed you to his chest.

“It’s good to have you back in fighting shape, private! Your presence has been missed on the battlefield.” he said, patting you in between your shoulder blades, “Also, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, Solly.” you replied, knocking your forehead against his helmet gently, “Show me around the base? I saw a bit of it when I Respawned here, but I wasn’t exactly taking in all the finer details.”

“Of course!” Soldier set you down, taking the lead as you, him, and Scout headed off down the hall.

He gave you a tour of the base and the battleground, loudly and excitedly chattering about all the great places to set up ambushes and assaults that this new location provided. You nodded along, adding your own ideas occasionally as you took in your surroundings, inhaling a lungful of warm, apple-scented air for the first time without pain. In a few days, the RED Chemist would be returning from her contract, and you would be returning to the fray, but for now you got to revel in the relative peace of the time between battles.

Eventually, Soldier led you to the barracks, showing you to your room. It had been partially set up; your bed was made and your uniforms had been hung up in your closet, but your casual clothes and personal belongings had been left in their moving boxes. You smiled softly when you flipped open the first box and spotted Pyro’s drawings sitting on top. The firebug had added a few new ones, depicting a healthy you and them frolicking through a shimmering candyland, or petting beautiful unicorns. You snorted with laughter at one of the last ones, which showed you and Pyro sitting aside a golden, fire-breathing dragon, flying high above the base, the arsonist flipping off the RED Spy and Engineer, who were being roasted by the beast.

Speaking of…

“Hey, has anyone seen my hat?” you asked Soldier and Scout, who were peering into one of your, currently empty, terrariums. The two mercenaries glanced at each other.

“Uh, I think Engie took it.” Scout rubbed his chin, “Kept mutterin’ something about the ‘cowboy hat rule.’ He sounded real pissed about it too.”

You tilted your head and frowned. “Cowboy hat rule? What the hell is that?”

“Dunno.” Scout shrugged, “You’d have to ask Hardhat.”

“Maybe I will.” you said, putting the drawings down, “Where is he?”

“The grease monkey is in his workshop!” Soldier said helpfully, “I saw him go in there before I went to wait for you.”

“Perfect,” you smiled, “I’ll be back soon, fellas. Oh, actually, could you two do me a favour?”

The men nodded.

“Tell the others I’d finally like to have that conversation we talked about.” you winked, stepping out the door, “We’ll talk at dinner, yeah?”

Slipping out into the hallway proper, you left two very warm-cheeked mercenaries behind.

“What are the chances we actually score tonight, you think?” Scout asked, biting his lip slightly.

“If Engie doesn’t make ‘em mad?” Soldier grinned, tipping up his helmet slightly, “I’d say I like our odds.”

“God, he bettah not screw dis up.” Scout huffed, folding his arms, “I hope he’s smart enough to just give Chem that hat.”

“Ah ain’t givin’ you that hat.”

The Texan and the Chemist stood almost chest-to-chest, locked in a standoff. Engineer folded his arms and fixed his colleague with the firmest look he could muster, standing absolutely resolute in his decision.

Chemist set their jaw, squinting in annoyance.

“Engie,” they started, voice firm and tone indicating that they were done with this argument, “that hat was a temporary gift. I need to give it back. I don’t know why you’re being such an ass over this, but-”

“Because it ain’t a gift!” the man finally shouted, gritting his teeth.

Chemist reeled back as if they’d been struck, shocked at the man’s outburst. They blinked, then slowly shifted to a more passive stance.

“Okay, clearly I’m missing something here, and it’s making you upset.” they said, backing up a step to give Engineer some much needed space, “Mind filling me in? Does it have something to do with that ‘cowboy hat rule’ Scout mentioned?”

“It has everything to do with that.” Engineer sighed, deflating slightly as his anger returned to a very low simmer, “A cowboy’s hat is considered an extension of his body, a real special article of clothin’. If he puts it on someone’s head, or if someone takes it and puts it on, then that’s basically the same as sayin’ yer real interested in ‘em. The ‘rule’ is basically that if you wear the hat, y’gotta ride the cowboy.”

He folded his arms again, looking into Chemist’s wide eyes. “Him puttin’ that hat on ‘ya like he did and bein’ all flirtatious was almost like him brandin’ you; a real bold move to pull right in front of all of us. You bein’ so friendly ‘n receptive ‘bout it all was just salt in the wound, and now he’s been down right gloatin’ about it ever since we got here!”

Chemist winced, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Aw, jeeze, I’m- I’m sorry, Engie. I didn’t realize how much that might bother you. This has really been eating at you, huh?”

“It has.” he confessed, feeling slightly ashamed by just how much it bothered him, “Ah know yer a grown adult, and ah obviously can’t control what ‘ya do in yer free time, but as ahm sure you’ve figured out, we’re all rather fond of ‘ya, and I ain’t no exception. Seein’ you with him? And then having to work with ‘im these past few days?”

The man shook himself, scowling. “It’s like swallowin’ glass.”

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up outside of battle.” the other mercenary said, before reaching out and taking Engineer’s hands into their own, causing the Texan to jolt slightly in surprise, “Look, I might joke around sometimes, but I am one hundred percent loyal to BLU and everyone who’s a part of it. That other Engineer might get me once, but you can have me as many times as you like.” 

Chemist winked, and Engineer’s eyes widened like saucers, his mouth turning dry as cotton as any words he might have intended to say died in his throat. The other BLU leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Engineer closed his eyes, burning the sensation into his mind as he swallowed.

“And if you’re still worried,” they whispered into his ear, “you can always leave your mark on me.”

“Careful, Darl’,” he growled lowly, wrapping a hand around their waist, enjoying the feeling of muscle and fat, “you don’t know what yer askin’ for.”

“Oh, I think I do.” they grinned ferally, nipping at the Southerner’s neck. Engineer inhaled sharply and let out a curse, tightening his hold when he felt a warm tongue lave the area lovingly.

Suddenly, the contact was gone, Chemist pulling away with a satisfied grin and leaving the poor Texan stunned.

“You can hang onto the hat for now, but I really do need it back.” they tapped his nose, causing him to blink, “Now, we’re all gonna have that little chat at dinner tonight, so don’t be late.”

And with that, they sauntered right back out the door they'd come through earlier, leaving Engie to try and collect himself. Eventually, he managed to shake himself out of his stupor, a grin coming across his face.

“Well, this ought to be mighty interestin’.”

The conversation at dinner had been, to absolutely no one’s shock, awkward as all hell to begin with.

Once everyone had gotten a plate of food in front of them to stare at when things got too uncomfortable, you started laying out basic ground rules. You stressed, through your many stutters, the importance of boundaries, consent and communication, and you made it very clear that if anyone was at all uncomfortable with what you were proposing, then they were more than welcome to voice that without judgement. You were firm as you warned that if you caught wind of anyone teasing or pressuring another teammate about this was going to lose any and all privileges, as well as getting a face full of acid at any given time. 

“Any objections or questions so far?” you asked, taking a bite of your dinner, which was macaroni and cheese.

“If ve’re really going to to zhis, I vould like to propose regular STD tests und use of condoms.” Medic said after a few moments of silence passed in the room, folding his hands in front of him, “Zhis isn’t exactly a closed relationship ve’re talking about here, und I for one vould feel a lot better vith zhat reassurance, zhough I know jou’re all clean as of right now.”

Everyone made noises of agreement. No one wanted to take that risk.

“Do we have to do stuff with everyone? ‘Cause, uh, I definitely ain’t cool with that.” Scout asked, rubbing his arm in discomfort.

“No, of course not.” you reassured, laying a comforting hand over his. “You’re free to be with whoever you want, and you certainly aren’t going to be forced into a relationship.”

Scout relaxed, some of the tension leaving his body. Around the table, a few others seemed to relax as well.

“We will have to keep zhis a well-kept secret. If zhe Administrator finds out, zhen I suspect we will be punished in some cruel and unusual manner.” Spy added, resting his chin on one hand.

“Yeah, she’s real good at that.” Soldier mumbled, still sore over the fact that he’d be tricked and threatened into breaking off the best friendship he’d ever had, one that still hadn’t recovered.

“So no flirting, or anything else, on the battlefield or during work hours.” you nodded, “We’ll save it for contracts, ceasefires, and late night meet ups, I suppose.”

Sniper raised his hand slightly, swallowing his mouthful of food. “And how exactly are we plannin’ on deciding who gets to do what, and when?”

“Scheduling.” you replied, having pondered that very same question, “We’ll come up with a schedule. You guys can draw straws or wrestle or something. I’ll leave how the order gets decided up to you.”

“Battle’s comin’ up in a few days.” Demo said, taking a sip of his Scrumpy, “How’s about we use our performances to decide?”

“Heavy likes that idea,” the large Russian man nodded, “it means I will be first.”

“Hey, woah, back it up, tons ‘a fun!” Scout protested, jabbing his fork in the other’s direction, “You musta hit yer head or somethin, cause everyone knows I’m gonna be the one comin’ out on top, as usual.”

“You? Do something aside from running your mouth and getting shot full of bullets? Please, don’t make me laugh.” Spy snarked, picking at his dinner while side-eying the Bostonian.

“Don’t get too cocky, Spook. God knows yer gonna end up on the hot end of the enemy Pyro’s flamethrower more often than not.” Sniper teased, “Meanwhile, I’ll be rackin’ up kills left ‘n right.”

“Hey Py, ah’ll share mah time if y’ team up with me.” Engineer offered, smirking when the arsonist mumbled in cheerful agreement, giving the Southerner a fistbump.

“Ooh, ve’re making alliances?” Medic perked up, “Heavy, team up with me, ja?”

“конечно, доктор.” 

“Oye, that ain’t fair!” Demo shouted, banging his fist down on the table, “Soldier, yer with me!”

“Affirmative!” the American saluted, “We are going to crush each and every one of your pansy asses!”

“This is bullshit!” Scout yipped, realizing that his teammates were absolutely willing to partner up if it meant having a better shot at first pick, “Yo, Snipes, we teamin’ up?”

“Bettah you then Spy.” the marksman leaned over the table and shook hands with the runner. “Alright, jackrabbit, let’s do this.”

“Feelin’ left out, Spy?” Engineer asked, reaching for his cup of sweet tea.

“Not at all.” came the Frenchman’s smooth reply, “I am confident enough in my abilities to not feel zhe need to rely on zhe help of another to win. Unlike you, toymaker, I am not willing to share my lovers.”

“Keep a good hold on that confidence ‘a yers.” the Texan chuckled, “You’ll need somethin’ t’ help repair yer shattered pride once you come dead last.”

You took another bite of your macaroni, enjoying the growing sense of… friendly competition. The next battle was going to be a bloodbath, and you absolutely could not wait to see it.

And, of course, you were very excited to see who came out as the victor.

The sound of gunfire and dying men was like music to your ears as you finally returned to the battlefield. Your limbs ached from the lack of use, and you could certainly feel the strain now, but you welcomed the pain, grinning into your mask as you lobbed another vial at a passing Scout, your smile widening as you snickered at his howls of pain.

Your team was dominating the battlefield today, each member striving to get the most amount of kills. The energy of the battle was even a little bit lighter than usual today, likely due to the fact that the mystery of the Respawn malfunction had finally been solved on the Sunday before the battle.

Apparently, according to Engineer, the issue had been caused by too many units being active at once, which all but confirmed your theory of other teams existing out in the world. It had nothing to do with you specifically, you’d simply been the unlucky bastard who had come through at the boiling point. The information had come as a huge relief, even if the answer had left you with quite a few questions. You would have to ask Miss Pauling about it the next time she came around the base, though you doubted you’d get any real answers. Something told you that, if the other teams had never been mentioned to any of you before, then you weren’t supposed to know about them.

Actually, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut this time. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction wouldn’t be enough to bring you back, if the Administrator decided to disable your Respawn capability.

Shaking your head, you dashed forward, side-stepping the sizzling corpse at your feet. Running across the dry Texas grass, you threw yourself against the side of the nearest building, a smaller, ramshackle barn at the edge of the treeline. From where you stood, you managed to catch a glimpse of Pyro, Soldier, and Engineer taking a new vantage point to set up a sentry, before the arsonist suddenly spun around, blasting a plume of flame at your helmeted friend. You winced, watching as the RED Spy’s illusion melted away, along with his skin.

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be seeing too much of him today. That was a shame; the Frenchman could be surprisingly funny, when he wanted to be. You’d hoped to get a chance to tease him and see if you could make him blush again, or perhaps some part of you wanted to provide your own Spy with an easy kill.

Just as you started off towards your teammates, ready to help them secure the nearest point, you saw something whip over your head. Before you knew it, your arms were suddenly pinned at your sides, and you’d been tugged backwards, landing on your rump with a sharp yelp of pain. The white cowboy hat that you’d managed to get back from Engineer, which had been sitting snugly on your head, slipped down over your eyes as you were dragged back towards the trees, leaving you blind.

You panicked for a moment, struggling against the tight rope. However, you paused upon hearing a familiar voice, chills running up your spine, both from fear and from pleasure. A gloved hand plucked the hat off your head, the mechanical movement clicking softly in your ear. You tilted your head back, looking up at the man who was holding the lasso that had left you so defenseless.

“Hello there, Darl’.” The RED Engineer purred, leaning against the trunk of one of the apple trees, “Ready to make good on that offer?”

Annnnd that wraps up Respawn Malfunction! Again, big thanks to @pinkypiechar for reading along with me in the wee hours of the morning, keeping me motivated and catching any mistakes I made. You a real one pookie. <3