#while I understand wanting to make a blow to the green after the death of luke

[dirtytransmasc]

Aemond killing Luke =/= what happened during the night of Blood & Cheese. that was not equal* revenge, the two events can never and will never be equal under any circumstance nor attempts at justification.

I said what I said, and I believe it with my whole chest.

*quick edit on wording, that was my bad, definitely made my point look real stupid... this is why you double-check your rants, especially when they're controversial

[drakaripykiros130ac]

I just have to say this: Aegon the Usurper flying off like an idiot in battle while Rhaenyra does not, doesn’t make this guy a hero, nor does it make Rhaenyra a coward.

We need to set the record straight: Women don’t have to be warriors in order to be worth something.

This is just another proof of classic misogynistic thinking of TG stans. But they also prove to be highly subjective since they give “poor sweet innocent” Helaena a pass for doing absolutely nothing and being less than relevant even as a dragonrider. And as the ringleader of the Greens, I don’t think Alicent sat on a horse and rode off to battle in order to further her own ambitions. She started the whole mess and then hid behind her sons. Even after Rhaenyra took King’s Landing, the only thing Alicent could say was something like “Just wait till my son Aemond returns bla bla bla.”

Rhaenyra is a girl’s girl. Those who read the book understand that. The canon version of her never wanted to be a son (unlike the stupidity induced in that show). She was very feminine: always choosing to wear the best dresses with the finest silks, many pieces of jewelry, and she is highly interested in men. She was always proud to be a woman. She embraced it. She never tried to act like the opposing gender as a way to make others look at her as worthy of the throne.

I repeat: Rhaenyra was a girl’s girl and she was proud of it.

She was not a warrior. She never trained with a sword in her life, unlike her idiotic half-brothers. She was not even the type (unlike Princess Rhaenys). Rhaenyra spent her time doing girly things and riding Syrax.

Shortly before the war started, Rhaenyra suffered a miscarriage which greatly affected her health. She needed months to recover. This is the reason why she didn’t ride Syrax in battle, as confirmed in the book. It was not because she didn’t want to or because she refused to fight her battles herself (as I hear many TG stans claim in spite).

And even if flying hadn’t been detrimental to her health, why would she fly into battle? You think that is a smart idea? It’s brave, but it’s also stupid, and the usurper himself proved that.

Aegon the Usurper rode his dragon into battle to show that he’s a man’s man, and what did that get him? Injuries which prevented him from being able to move well enough in order to sit on the throne he stole. The only battle he actually won was against a baby dragon, Moondancer. A baby dragon who inflicted deadly wounds on Sunfyre and caused his death.

So tell me again how ‘intelligent’ the usurper was to fly off into battle himself and what exactly he has accomplished with that. What exactly is so “heroic” about that? The fact that he shows off his masculinity on a big bad dragon?

And of course do forgive a poor woman for not flying her dragon into battle like a crazy person after a miscarriage and several psychological blows in one go like her father’s death, her daughter’s death, her son’s death and the usurpation through which a faction of snakes stole the throne that belonged to her.

Do forgive her for lacking any combat experience because you know…she was raised a girl and has a girlish personality!

And do forgive her for not being an idiot and getting herself disabled, like her half-brother did.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [21]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, death of minor original character, self defense leading to homicide, groping of reader by stranger (not described in depth)

Word Count: 10k+

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i am so sorry this took so long i know y'all have been waiting all day for it. work was so hectic and i was so frazzled and it's been a long day hah. i know the tags at the bottom aren't all working right and i'm sorry about that but tumblr kept being a bitch and i was gonna lose my mind. speaking of taglists, i am closing AFS's taglist. anyways, hope y'all enjoy!]

#21: MADE OF THE RIGHT STUFF

.

"no one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear." -c.s. lewis

.

The Armorer had been a constant in Din’s life. She was a staple piece of the covert⏤ a figure of mentor ship in his upbringing. He had always greatly admired her, and her opinion meant a lot to him. It was why hearing her call him ‘Apostate’ had stung so badly. Coming from anyone it was a blow, but having the Armorer cast him away had been devastating. Being able to come before her, prove his redemption, and have her reinstate him had been a  sweet moment. If Din were a smart man he would’ve left it at that and been on his way. However, Din was a stubborn man. A stubborn man who would not leave this rock until he got what he wanted come hell or high water.

“She is an outsider.” The Armorer spoke in Mando’a. 

“Yes, but⏤”

“An outsider that you ask me to stoke the forge for?”

Din kept his entire body still to hide his nerves. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” The Armorer did not reply further. She stayed silent, seated by the forge with her hands laid in her lap. Din spoke up again, unable to resist. “She is made of the right stuff. The virtues of a Mandalorian. She may not follow the Way, but she understands it⏤ respects it.”

“You wish to court her?” The Armorer asked and Din gave a firm nod. “Have you presented her with a token of intention?”

Din thought to the blaster he had gifted you. Typically, a token of intention would be a weapon of some kind created for the intended. However, the blaster had once been his and it did not have his signet on it. Plus, it had been given to you while he was an Apostate. It did not count. “No. I have not.”

“This forge is for beskar, and I do not make weapons⏤”

“I am not requesting a weapon.” Din said firmly. He knew beskar was for armor. It was part of the reason his spear had been melted down to create Grogu’s chainmail. Din already had a plan for his token of intention. That was of no concern to him. “I am requesting a set of bracers with my signet.”

The Armorer’s head gave a slight tilt and he wasn’t shocked by her surprise. She rose from her seat and her hands clasped behind her back as she spoke. “You have yet to present this woman with a token of intention, yet you are requesting a token of ridduurok?”

“Yes.” Din replied. He knew how it sounded. Din was not blind to the weight of his request. However, it wasn’t as if he planned to present this to you the moment he returned. He was going to take his time, court you properly, and let you control the speed at which this relationship would move. Din was a man who was sure of what he wanted though, and he knew that was you. He had known that for quite some time now. There was no one else in this galaxy for him. People were constantly referring to you as his wife, and he always corrected them, but more than anything he wanted to be in the position where he did not have to. Din wanted it to be true. “I am sure of my decision and wanted to bring this decision to you sooner rather than later.”

“And if I refuse?” The Armorer pressed.

“I…” Din swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands clenched tight as they rested on top of his thighs. “I would be disappointed, but it would not stop me. She is who I want. She is… She is who I love.”

The Armorer hummed in response and it gave him no clear picture on where the figure head stood on this decision. She made the motion for him to rise from his seat. Din pushed up and tried to hide the tension in his frame. She finally spoke, but it was only to motion to the door and speak on a different topic. “Take your boy to the training yard. We will speak again.”

Din bit back a sigh and gave a tense nod. Well, it was better than an outright no. He turned on his heel to go find Grogu. As he walked, he lifted his vambrace to try and call you. Hours earlier you hadn’t answered, but Din assumed that meant you were busy in the clinic. It happened sometimes. Just as before, the signal did not pick up on your end and his steps came to a slow pause. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut. You were busy. His mind was jumping to the worst case scenario, but you were probably just busy. He forced himself to keep walking. Din would try again soon.

Your ears were ringing, and you felt like you were trapped in a fog. There was a tugging on your arm. You lifted your gaze to try and find the source. Nima. It was Nima. She stood by your side, eyes wide in panic, as she screamed at you. She screamed but there was only the ringing. With a final tug, she dragged you up to your feet and the world snapped into focus.

Sirens. A siren was blaring and it mingled with the sound of explosions as fire rained down from the Corsair in the sky. “We have to go!” Nima screamed and your eyes snapped to her. “Come on! Move!”

Nima was pulling you down the road as the two of you got lost in the crowd of other panicked citizens. The smell of smoke burned your nose and you could feel the heat of various burning buildings as you passed. Your head was throbbing and with every step your vision would blur for a second before shakily coming back into focus. The flow of the running crowd picked up speed and panic as another bomb fell not too far away and your hand slipped out of Nima’s. You heard her scream out your name, saw a flash of her pink skin as she tried to jump and spot you, but she was swept even further away.

Someone slammed into you from behind and you went sprawling. Get out of the way. Get out of the way. This was a stampede and you needed to move. Unable to get to your feet quick enough you threw yourself to the side beside some rubble so you weren’t trampled.

While leaning against the rubble, you tried to catch your breath. Your arms were covered in the dust being kicked up into the air, but no immediate wounds. Hesitantly, you probed at your hairline and winced when you found a tender spot. Pulling your hand back your fingers were coated in a shine of blood. 

“Shit.” You breathed. That explained the concussion. 

Most of the crowd had passed and you glanced around to figure out where you were. The school house was up ahead which meant if you kept pressing down the street you’d reach the lava plains. With a grunt, you tried to jog forward⏤ in the distance behind you, the sounds of deep, excited yelling spurned you on. As you were passing the school the sound of a muffled scream brought you to a screeching halt. You paused, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart and the excited yelling getting closer. After a beat, there was another scream. Fuck, the schoolhouse. 

Your eyes darted to where you could see the edge of the city. Din would be so mad at you. You could almost hear his voice at the back of your mind barking for you to get the hell out of Nevarro. The scream came again and it sounded young. All you could picture was Grogu, scared and hurt, trapped in the rubble. That made your decision for you. If this had been your boy you’d want someone to stop for him. You sprinted into the school house and scanned the destroyed classroom. The back corner had caved in from a bomb. 

“Hey!” You yelled. “Can you hear me? Where are you!?”

“Here!” 

That was Wynn’s voice, Grogu’s teacher, and it sounded like it was coming from the space behind the pile of rubble. You hurried over and scanned the pile for a spot you could pull away. Wynn was making calming noises to a sobbing and hysterical child⏤ that’s who had screamed. You wrapped your fingers around a block and pulled it back. The large chunk of concrete shifted just enough that you could get down on your knees and crawl through. 

All of the rubble had blocked off one of the small back cubbies where the children would keep their bags. There you found Wynn, uninjured but covered in dust, clutching a familiar child in her arms. Elodie. You tried to bite back the gasp that threatened to leave you. 

“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay.” You said softly and crawled closer. “Do you remember me, Elodie?”

She sniffled, “You’re⏤ You’re Gro⏤ Grogu’s mommy.”

“That’s right.” You nodded and shifted so you sat right beside them both. Elodie’s blonde hair was covered in soot and you could see bright red blood on her shirt. Jaen and Dayen were probably out of their minds with worry. Maker. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Her arm.” Wynn mouthed.

Elodie was crying once more, and you reached forward to carefully touch her. Elodie let out a scream of panic and you tried to whisper reassurances. “It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetie. I’m gonna make it better.” You pulled her right arm away from her body as it had been cradling and covering the left one, and as soon as you did you felt the blood drain from your face. Still, you kept your features neutral. Her left arm was broken, her pale skin discolored in ugly shades of purple and red, and the bone itself had pierced out of her skin. That’s where the blood had come from.

“The other kids were out for recess. My assistant got them out, but Elodie had come back in to use the bathroom.” Wynn shook her head. The gentle woman was trembling. “I couldn’t move the rubble and hold her.”

You gave your pockets a pat, but the only item you had on you was some medical tape. “Dank farrik.” You muttered. “Wynn, where’s the school’s first aid kit?”

“Out by my desk.”

You spun and crawled back out of the rubble to find the kit. If the kit was up to date then you’d have the supplies you needed for a temporary patch job. It didn’t take you long to dig the kit out of the desk, but it was then you noticed the explosions had stopped. Everything had stopped save for the hooting and hollering in the distance. Shit. You raced back to where Wynn and Elodie sat.

“Alright, sweetie, I want you to look at Ms. Wynn, okay? Just her.” You said. You met Wynn’s gaze and she seemed to understand what was about to happen and nodded.

“Hey, honey.” Wynn spoke softly and shifted so she could hold Elodie’s head to face her. You dug through the kit while the teacher spoke calmly and kindly to the little girl who was still crying. The first thing you did was grab the medgun which was loaded with pain meds and punched the needle into her arm without warning. Elodie’s crying grew worse and you hit her with the needle twice more. Three doses was just below what would be too much for a girl her size. Then you grabbed the bacta spray and began to coat the open wound with it in thick layers. 

The numbing pain meds seemed to be working as her sobs turned to hiccups, but she was not going to like this next part. However, the sound of the attackers was growing closer which meant you were running out of a window to do this. You set one hand behind Elodie’s elbow and grasped her left hand with your other. Wynn saw the motion and held onto Elodie tighter. You gave her hand a sharp tug, drawing the bone back into place, and the scream that left Elodie’s little lips was haunting. It only lasted a second before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she went limp.

“Elodie??” Wynn cried.

“She’s okay.” You checked her pulse and breathing. “The pain just overwhelmed her.” 

Quickly, you grabbed the gauze and wrapped it around her arm along with the collapsible splint to keep it from moving. The sound of a deep laugh while someone kicked around items made you and Wynn freeze. You carefully closed up the kit and motioned for Wynn to pull Elodie to the side and even deeper into the pocket you were trapped in. 

“I liked this place better when it was a bar!” A voice barked out and other men laughed. You were hearing at least four voices. “Look at all this shit!” The sound of furniture being tossed around made you wince. “Where’s Beetl with the liquor!?”

It sounded like they were settling into place and you mentally cursed.

The three of you were going to be stuck here for longer than you liked, and you just prayed Elodie stayed unconscious. 

Din was getting nervous. So much so that he couldn’t even enjoy watching Grogu beat Paz’s son in a sparring match with darts. All he could think about was the fact that he wasn’t getting in touch with anyone from Nevarro. You still weren’t picking up his calls, and now he couldn’t get in touch with anyone else either.

He had to go back. 

“And you’re going to take Grogu with you?” Bo Katan questioned.

“He goes where I go.” Din replied. Grogu grunted in agreement from his arms while Bo Katan shook her head in disagreement. He had told her a quick good-bye and to explain to the others where he was going. Din had a sinking feeling since this morning that he just couldn’t shake.

“Djarin⏤”

His vambrace chirped as a message came through and Din let out a breath of relief seeing Mayfeld’s name. Din shifted the call to his helmet. “Mayfeld! What the hell⏤”

“We got trouble, boss.” Mayfeld blurted. His voice strained. “King Gorian Shard is here. His Corsair is raining fire down on Nevarro. We evacuated the city and⏤”

“Soran.” Din blurted your fake name, the one you still went by. “Where is she? Is she alright?!”

“I’m sure she’s fine⏤”

“You’re sure??” Din barked. “You have eyes on her?! Mayfeld! Do you have eyes⏤”

“I saw her and Nima running out of the city when this all started.” Mayfeld snapped, the sound of blaster fire filled the other line before he spoke again, “We’re trying to keep the pirates away from the citizens, we’re out in the lava plains⏤” Din felt like he was going to be sick. That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t enough reassurance for him. “Mando!? Mando, are you listening!?”

“I’m coming. Just keep them safe. Please get Soran to call me when you see her.”

“It might be tough. The Corsair is jamming our communications. We’ve been trying to get in contact with you this entire time but⏤”

The call cut out and Din was already moving. Bo slid into his path and he nearly bowled her over to get past. She held her hands out and forced him to a stop.

“What is happening?”

“Nevarro is under attack. Gorian Shard brought his Corsair and his men have infiltrated the city.” Din snapped. “Now move⏤”

“You can’t just go there alone.”

“Get the hell out of my way.” Din’s hand drifted to his blaster.

Bo let out a slow sigh and tilted her head. “Think, Djarin. What do you think you’ll be able to do on your own? You’re out gunned on this. You need back up.” Logic told him that she wasn’t wrong, but every fiber of his being was screaming for him to shove past her and get to the N1. “You’re wasting time here with me.”

“I know!” Din yelled, frustrated. “So get out of my way, Bo.”

“The covert is a community, is it not? A family?” Bo questioned. “You have some of the finest warriors in the galaxy here, yet you want to go to Nevarro alone?”

Din was shaking. A mix of anger and fear. Grogu tilted his head up to gaze at him, wide eyes filled with concern. His son may not have fully understood what was happening, but he knew something was wrong. Grogu chirped, “Ma?”

“I get it. I do. But how much can you help this girl of yours if you run in blind and get yourself killed?” Bo pressed. She shook her head. “You drive me up the wall, Djarin, but I know you’re not a complete idiot. Think for a second here.”

With a frustrated huff, Din spun on his heel to find the Armorer. With every step he took, Bo on his tail, Din prayed to the Maker, and any other deity that may be listening, that you were somewhere safe. He was coming for you. Din would tear through any person who stood in his way. He just needed you to hold on a little while longer.

Apparently, the pirates had decided to make the schoolhouse their new cantina. Never mind there was literally a cantina filled with drinks right in the middle of the city they could use. New voices would come in and out, laughing loudly and blindly firing their blasters, while you and Wynn stayed silent. Hours had passed. As unlucky as this entire situation seemed, you were thankful that Elodie was still out cold and that not a single one of the attackers was curious enough to dig through rubble.

You leaned your head against the wall and tapped on your communicator uselessly. It was dead for some reason. Maybe the attack had something to do with that. None of your calls were going out and if someone was trying to call you then it wasn’t coming in. You let your arm fall to the side and glanced over to see Wynn gently running her fingers through Elodie’s hair in a soothing pattern.

Poor Jaen and Dayen. You hoped they were alright and out in the lava plains with everyone else. If you were in that situation, stuck outside the city while Grogu was trapped Maker knows where? There was nothing that would keep you from racing after him. You’d claw the face off anyone who tried to stop you from searching for him. Despite knowing that fact, you still hoped someone was holding them back. The last thing you wanted was for something terrible to happen to them.

A loud crash made you and Wynn jump. You shifted so you sat between the only opening out into the main room and the little girl. Wynn wrapped her arms tighter around Elodie. Laughs followed the crash and it seemed like you were still safe⏤ for now. This wasn’t going to last. You couldn’t just sit here and pray a miracle happened. All it would take is one noise from the three of you or one of the pirates getting nosy and that would be it. Game over.

The light that had been streaming through the hole in the ceiling, created from the rubble, had disappeared hours ago. As night settled over Nevarro this could be good or bad news. If you were lucky then with the darkness the pirates would drift away to sleep and give you three a chance to make a run for it, but if you weren’t lucky then even more people would drift into the school house to drink. Based on the setting, you were not having a lucky day and so far it seemed none of the men drinking were slowing down quite yet.

A soft whimper made you stiffen and you saw Elodie begin to squirm in Wynn’s arms. Wynn’s gaze met yours in a panic and you began to quietly dig through the first aid kit again. You couldn’t expect the young girl to stay completely quiet with an injury like that. There were a few more doses of pain medication. You hated the idea of giving her more than the recommended dose, but as long as you kept an eye on her vitals. Risk versus benefit. In this scenario, there was more benefit than risk currently. 

You pressed the needle into her upper arm and moments later her features evened out. You let out a breath of relief and leaned your head against the wall once more. This was a waiting game and that was your least favorite situation to be stuck in. With a slow breath, you let your eyes close for just a moment.

“Soran.”

A soft hiss made your eyes snap open, to see Wynn trying to grab your attention. You felt dazed and you were now lying on your side. You had closed your eyes for only a second, but the lighting had changed. It was still dark, but the dim glow of dawn could be seen through the ceiling’s hole. You pushed up and winced at the headache still lingering behind your eyes.

“Shit.” You mumbled quietly. “How long was I out?”

“Through the night?” Wynn whispered back. “I was worried. You were out cold.”

“Elodie?”

Wynn shook her head. “Still sleeping.” You turned your head to try and listen out for the main room. It was mostly quiet now, but there was still an artificial glow peeking through the rubble’s cracks. “I think most fell asleep, but they’re still out there.”

You shifted and reached out for Elodie. “Take a break, Wynn. Get some sleep.”

She nodded without much argument and you could see the exhaustion in her eyes. You wished you had woken earlier. It didn’t take long for Wynn to lay down and fall asleep herself while you curled Elodie in your arms⏤ careful not to jar her arm. Holding her made you miss Grogu, but you were thankful he wasn’t here. If anything ever happened to him you don’t think you’d survive it. Him or Din. That was a comfort you could take in this. Neither of your boys were here to possibly get hurt.

They were worlds away⏤ safe.

Maybe an hour had passed when Elodie began to murmur and move against you. You held her tighter to your chest and whispered that she was safe with you. A whimper left her lips and you winced. “Elodie, sweetie, you’re okay. I need you to stay quiet for me.” You whispered. Her bleary eyes blinked open and you ran a hand through her hair. “It’s me. You’re safe with me and Ms. Wynn. Everything is okay.”

“I want my mommy and daddy.” Elodie began to cry. You buried her face into your shoulder to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

“I know.” You mumbled into her hair. “I know, sweetie.”

Elodie cried for a while, but it slowed to harsh and tired breathing. She was awake and clinging to you with her good arm. You continued to run your hand through her hair and murmur how brave she was and how proud her parents would be. This seemed to marginally calm her. 

The sound of shuffling grew closer to the rubble and you felt your entire body stiffen⏤ on edge. It didn’t seem like he was looking for anything and moments later you heard the sound of peeing off to the sound of the rubble. Your nose scrunched in disgust but you supposed it could be worse. The man began to talk to some others and you listened as closely as you could to try and count the number of people in the room. As the glow of dawn spread across the sky, you really needed to get out of here. Elodie was stable, but she needed proper medical care.

Wynn woke up when you hissed her name and you shifted the little girl in your arms to her. They both stared at you in alarm as you crawled slowly and quietly toward the rubble blocking you in. As you got closer you laid on your belly and shuffled closer. You were low enough to be able to peek through the entrance, but you stayed as far back as you could to remain out of sight just in case one of the men was facing the rubble.

“How long do we gotta stick ‘round here?” A man scoffed. Someone threw a bottle and you heard the glass shatter with a wince. “Can’t we go?”

“You wanna tell the King what to do?” Another snorted. “Be my guest, idiot.”

A third man chimed in and they seemed to go in circles. Three in total then? Unless one was quiet, but you sincerely doubted that. It seemed like every soul that swung through here couldn’t keep their mouth shut. You crawled back deeper into the pocket to settle beside Wynn and Elodie.

“We need to get out of here.” You whispered. “I have a plan. I’m going to distract them⏤”

“Wait⏤”

“⏤and while I do that, you’re gonna take Elodie out the back and use the alley to get Elodie to the lava plains. It’ll be a straight shot. Just stay off the main street.”

Wynn shook her head. “This is dangerous. You’re putting yourself in an awful situation. Maybe we should just stay.”

“We’re tempting fate just by sitting here, and Elodie needs further medical care.” You argued. “This is our best bet.” Wynn still didn’t seem convinced, but you had already made your decision. In your career, you needed to rely on gut calls. Instinct. No time for hesitation. It was best if you did this now before more men showed up. “I’m gonna make them chase after me, and as soon as they follow you need to take Elodie out the back door. Do you understand?”

Wynn nodded after a moment. “I do. Just please be careful.”

Before you could lose your nerve, you crawled back toward the rubble entrance and tried to listen and figure out where each man sat. If you had to guess, you’d say they were on the other side of the room which worked in your favor, and the front door was a straight shot. The issue would be going from on your knees to running without tripping over or being shot. Once again, you heard Din at the back of your head telling you what a reckless and stupid idea this was. That was always a good sign, right?

You sucked in a sharp breath, waited until you heard the men burst into laughter, and then pushed out. It all moved in a blur. You stumbled over your feet, trying to get off your knees, you heard the men shout in alarm, but you kept moving. They were jumping up, yelling at you, but you pumped your arms to sprint faster toward the door. You took a sharp turn right out the door and ran down the street towards the city’s center⏤ away from the direction Wynn and Elodie would need to go in.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw three men following. Good. Your plan fell apart when you turned your head to see where you were running only to collide into a firm body that sent you sprawling to the concrete ground with a grunt.

You tried to jump up, but a boot pressed down on your chest keeping you pinned on your back. A thickly built Twi’lek stared down at you with a sickening grin. His skin was a dark shade of purple and you could see an injury on his side that stained his clothes with blood.

“Well, well,” The Twi’lek hummed, “Aren’t you just adorable?”

“Oh, come on, Kiff.” One of the men who had been chasing you complained. “We saw her first!”

The Twi’lek, Kiff, shook his head and glared at the men. “Is there a reason you left a civilian alive? You had strict orders.” He drew his blaster pointing it at the men first who shuffled back a step and then he pointed it down at you. You stiffened, your hands gripping his boot, and he just smirked down at you. An excited anticipation glowing in his dark eyes. This man was looking forward to killing you. “Any last words?”

“You’re going to die.” You blurted the first thought that came to mind. His face furrowed at the threat, but you shook your head and pointed at his side. “That injury. I’d guess you have an hour at most.”

“It’s nothing. I was just grazed. Not even bleeding anymore. Nice try.” He huffed.

You were lying through your teeth, but he didn’t look like a man who knew much about anything. You kept your voice calm and firm. “I can see the bruising from where your shirt is torn. It’s not bleeding externally anymore, but you are bleeding internally. That’s where all the bruising is from.” He swallowed once and you kept on. “Right now, I bet you feel fine. Barely hurts. Give it another half hour and you’re gonna be in agony. Look at me.” You motioned down to yourself. “You think I’m wearing these scrubs for the fun of it? I’m a doctor, you ass.”

“Then I guess that means you know how to fix it.” He spat at you. Kiff put his blaster away and reached down to snatch you off the ground. You were barely on your feet when his hand clamped around your throat painfully tight. You clawed at him, trying to loosen the grip, but he didn’t even flinch. “Fix it. Now.”

“Clinc.” You gasped. “I need⏤ Clinc.”

Kiff threw you aside and you sucked in as much air as you could while trying to stay on your feet. The other pirates were still watching as Kiff buried his hand in your hair and held on like a leash. He leaned forward to press his lips near your ear. “Lead the way, bitch.”

It had taken hours too long to get to Nevarro. Din was thankful for Bo, thankful for his covert, as they agreed to help, but as his ship entered Nevarro’s atmosphere and his eyes landed on the smokey and still burning city beneath a monstrous Corsair, Din lost his breath. You were down there. You were in that mess.

“Ma? Ma!” Grogu was slamming his hands on the N1’s window. Din scooped the boy up to bring back to his lap and tucked him under his bandolier as a makeshift seat belt. 

Bo’s voice came over his comm unit, checking in to see if Din was still on board with the plan, and he was forced to agree. She was going to drop a unit of Mandalorians down to the city streets to fight, but it was up to him and Bo to take care of King Gorian Shard’s ship. As he got near, he saw a group of civilians nestled out in the lava plains. Were you there? You had to be there. Din could not wrap his mind around any other situation. 

“Let’s get this done.” Din barked gruffly over the communication line.

The sooner he burned Gorian Shard’s ship to the ground, the sooner he could find you.

The clinic was in shambles. Most of the structure itself looked intact, but a group of pirates must have ran through to scavenge for supplies because everything was sloppily tossed around. The hand tangled in your hair was roughly pulling, making your scalp ache, as you let him shove you forward into the main clinic space. You had a plan. It was a very, very bad plan, but that seemed to be the theme of the last 24 hours.

“Well, get to work then.” Kiff threw you aside before climbing up onto one of the cots. You straightened your posture and tried to steel your nerves as you approached him. He stared at you, eyes following your every moment, as you reached out to peel his shirt up. You pretended to examine his skin. “How long is this gonna take?”

“Depends.” You muttered⏤ your throat felt raw from his grip earlier. 

Kiff’s hand trailed down your side until it reached your backside. He kneaded his fingers over your ass, groping and pulling you closer, and it took all your strength to keep a steady face. You knew he was looking for a reaction. 

“I think you just wanted to get me alone.” Kiff hummed arrogantly.

“I need to grab the cautery.” You said and turned to walk toward your desk. He slid off the cot to grasp your hips and you felt a terrifying chill run down your spine as your skin crawled in disgust. “You should stay seated.”

“I think I’ll follow along.” Kiff leaned forward and you tried to ignore him as you continued toward your desk. He follow only half a step behind, large hands groping where he could reach, and you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. When you reached the desk, your shaky hand reached for the top drawer. Kiff leaned into you, pinning you between his hips and the side of the desk, as he chuckled. “I could fuck you right here, right now. How’s that sound?”

A while back, Din tried to convince you to carry the blaster he gave you on your person at all times. You argued that a doctor shouldn’t be walking around locked and loaded. Din didn’t love your argument, but the two of you settled on a compromise. You wouldn’t wear the blaster on your hip, but you’d keep it within reach at the clinic. 

Your hand wrapped around the blaster’s grip, your finger clicking off the safety as Kiff was distracted by feeling you up, and without pause you spun and fired. He was so tangled around you that the shot only clipped his side, but it was enough to make him grunt in pain and stumble back. 

“You bitch!” He roared.

Not giving him the chance to say anything further or even to reach for a weapon, you fired again. And again, and again, and again. Your finger pulled the trigger over and over. Even after the fourth and fifth burned through his chest and he lay on the ground with blank eyes, you fired more. In fact, you didn’t stop until the blaster overheated and slipped from your shaky hands. If anyone deserved to die it was a piece of shit like him, but you had taken an oath to do no harm. You had lost patients before, that was the nature of medicine, but you had never deliberately taken a life before. 

Nausea rolled through your body as the stench of burning flesh met your nose. It was familiar to you, but only through procedures and operations. Never like this. Never caused by your hand. Panicked, the voice at the back of your head, the one that sounded like Din, pleaded for you to pick up the blaster and run. You wondered how hard you had hit your head yesterday to be hearing his voice like this. You picked up the blaster with trembling hands and hurried out of the clinic.

Lava plains. You needed to get out of this city. 

The sound of a firefight was filling the air as you began to sprint down the street, but a very familiar sight sped by overhead in a blur. The N1. Your feet came to a screeching halt. Din. Din was here. Din had come. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in relief. You were still in the midst of a war zone, surrounded by fire, smoke, and danger, but just knowing that Din was in the vicinity came as an incredible comfort. Stumbling forward again, you tried to send out a call through your communicator once more, but it still seemed dead.

Just keep moving. Din was here now which meant everything was going to be alright. Just keep moving.

You had made decent progress down the road when the sight of a familiar body filled your view. Wynn. It took a beat before you rushed to their side. Wynn was lying on her chest so you cautiously flipped her over and a soft groan left her weary lips. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the significant wound decorating her abdomen. A blaster shot. Her dress and skin were charred from the heat of the blaster fire, but it clipped deep enough to hit an artery. That was the only explanation for the amount of blood you were seeing and the continued steady ooze. You applied pressure to the wound, to try and stop the bleeding, and Wynn didn’t even whimper in pain. Her just fluttered.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You said, trying to convince yourself more than her.

“Elodie…” Wynn gasped.

“Reinforcements are here. You just gotta hang on⏤”

“She ran. I told her to run.” Wynn pushed the words out. “They ambushed us. I⏤I tried⏤ I tried to hold them back.” You pressed down on her abdomen harder. The blood seeping through your fingers. You bit down hard on your lower lip and tried not to cry out at how useless you felt. You knew the odds of this injury, you were fighting fate currently. “Find her⏤”

You shook your head. “I will. I will, but I have to take care of you first. You’re bleeding⏤” Wynn’s shaky breaths came to a stop as you watched the life leave her eyes. “No, no.” Frantically you felt for a pulse and when you didn’t find one, you began CPR. Desperate. Was this your fault? Maybe you should have stayed in the school house. Had you made the wrong call? After three short rounds you fell back on your heels with a shaky gasp. “Wynn?”

Her unseeing eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Tears were rolling down your cheeks again and when you tried to swipe them away you felt her hot blood, still fresh on your hands, smear across your cheek and you gasped. You tried to use your scrub top to wipe it away. 

Elodie. You had to find Elodie. Wynn’s blood was on your hands, figuratively and literally, but you had to save Elodie. You gently closed Wynn’s eyes, whispering an apology, and stumbled away. The blaster was back in your grasp and you were desperate.

“Elodie!” You yelled. Not giving a single damn if the pirates heard you. The sound of blaster fire echoed down the streets just as it rang in the air overhead. “Elodie!” You were weaving in and out of buildings as you were able and peering down any alley you passed. “El⏤”

The heat of a blaster bolt screamed past you only narrowly missing you. You threw yourself to the ground as more fired in your direction. The pile of rubble you hid behind took most of the blows, but you could hear the yelling of your attackers growing closer. Shit. Shit. Shit. Blindly, you lifted your hand to try and fire a few shots of your own, but if it made contact with anyone you didn’t hear it do so. You tried to scan the region, looking for an escape, but the two paths you saw involved running out into the open. You wouldn’t survive that.

Right as you began to try and force yourself into accepting the terrible decision of making a run for it. Louder, rapid blaster fire filled the air and the attackers screamed  briefly before it all fell quiet. Someone had killed the men firing at you. The enemy of your enemy was your friend right? Hesitantly, you peered around the rubble and the sight of Mandalorian armor made you jump back out into the street.

The Mandalorian, a large man in armor decorated in shades of blue, carried a black turrent and it swiveled toward you at the sound of your approach. You held your hands up in surrender. “Please! I need help!”

“The path is clear.” The man barked out in a deep voice and motioned down the street. The direction you knew would take you to the lava plains. “Go.”

“No, I⏤ There’s a child lost here.” You rushed to stand in front of him. His broad frame towered over you. You had always thought Din was a large Mandalorian, but this guy may as well have been a building with legs. “I need help finding her.”

“I will seek out the child. You leave the city.”

“I’m not leaving her behind.” You glared at him.

He stiffened and maybe you had just gotten good at reading Mandalorian body signals from Din, but you could tell this man was glaring at you through his helmet at your disobedience. “This area is not fully secured. Leave the city and I will⏤”

“You can’t kill pirates and search for a little girl at the same time.” You snapped. “I’ll stay and we can⏤”

“You will go⏤”

“Look at me!” You barked out with the same confidence you used to command any other emergency you had encountered. The Mandalorian looked taken aback at your tone. You kept your shoulders tight, solid, then spoke in a firm voice that gave no room for argument. “I am going to find Elodie, and you are going to mow down any pirate that gets in our fucking way. Do you understand? This is a team effort. I am not leaving that little girl behind. So either you help me, or I do this on my own.”

The Mandalorian was fuming at you. At least, that’s what you were assuming based on the silent gaze he was burning down into you. This was not debatable. You lost Wynn. You would not lose Elodie. Over your dead body would anyone hurt that little girl any further. Finally, the Mandalorian blew out an irritated sigh and bobbed his head down the street.

“Move then.” He ordered.

You pointed down an alley to the left. “I’ve already been down that way. We need to cut here to search further.” 

Without waiting for his response, you marched down the alley. Only a second passed before a heavy hand clamped down on your shoulder and roughly dragged you back. The Mandalorian scoffed. “I have the weapon. I stand in front. Understand, wero’ika?”

“Fine.” You replied. You recognized the sound of Mando’a but didn’t know the word he used. It didn’t linger long in your mind though. The two of you were pushing down the alley and despite the Mandalorian telling you to keep quiet you continued to yell out Elodie’s name. More blaster fire, getting closer, made your heart pound even harder in your chest. “Elodie!”

“I said you need to⏤” The faint sound of a response only barely reached your ears and you shushed the Mandalorian. “Did you just⏤” You shushed him again and tried to listen. His next word came out in an irritated growl. “Wero’ika.”

“I hear her. I hear Elodie.” You blurted and sprinted past him. 

His thundering footsteps stayed only a step behind you and the Mando’a words he was spitting out under his breath were all the curse words you had heard Din use a time or two. You came to the edge of an alley, right where the blaster fire was loudest, and the Mandalorian shoved you behind him once more just in time for a bolt to bounce off his beskar covered chest. Your eyes frantically scanned the street and it took you three times before your eyes found the little blonde girl tucked in a ball and sobbing as people fired over her head.

“There!” You took a step forward to try and peer out but the Mandalorian yanked you back barking something out in Mando’a. “I wasn’t gonna run out there yet! I was trying to see if there was a path I could use to get to her.”

“I will lay cover fire and you will use that time to get to the girl. Do not,” He emphasized the command, “Leave that spot until I come to you.” You nodded once, but he did not budge. “Speak. Do you understand me, wero’ika?”

“Yes! Yes, alright!”

The Mandalorian grunted once in approval then he stepped out of the alley. The black turrent he was holding open fire and the red bolts leaving it rapidly was a sight to behold. So shocked by the weapon’s range of destruction you paused until he barked out at you. Elodie. Right. You sprinted out of the alley and made a beeline for her hiding spot. The Mandalorian was firing to your right, where the pirates stood, but to your left was a wall of Mandalorians. At least three of them. Had Din brought an army of his kind?

You slid to your knees beside Elodie, setting the blaster down, and wrapped your arms around her. She screamed and squirmed, but you held on tight. “Elodie! Sweetie! It’s me! You’re safe!” You yelled over the loud blaster fire. “You’re alright!”

Her wide eyes, filled to the brim with watery fear, landed on your face and she began buried her face in your chest with sobs. Elodie’s injured arm was still wrapped up with the splint but blood was seeping through the bandage once more. You could barely understand her through her cries.

“Ms. Wynn⏤ She⏤ We⏤”

“I know, sweetie. You’re okay.” You tried to reassure her even as your stomach flipped at the mention of her teacher’s name. “Come on.” You scooped her up into your arms and she wrapped her right arm around your neck in a death grip. “Keep your head down, Elodie. Alright? Don’t look up. Just close your eyes and keep your head down.”

You felt her nod against your shoulder and shifted so you’d be crouched down, out of range, but ready to go when the Mandalorian got to you. Big Blue, as you were so kindly referring to him in your head, was still firing at the pirates but was making steady steps in your direction. The other Mandalorians continued to drift up to add to his onslaught and when they stepped side by side with him, Big Blue peeled off to rush to you. 

“Up!” He grunted, and you didn’t hesitate to listen to him then. With Elodie in your arms, you rose up and Big Blue spun you around to march toward the city’s edge and away from the battle. He kept his body pressed close to your back and every once in a while you’d hear him grunt as blaster fire pinged off his beskar. 

The three of you shifted around a mess of debris when suddenly a pirate jumped into your path. Big Blue reacted quicker than you did and he spun the both of you around so his back was acting as a shield once more. You fell to your ass, with him draped over you in protection, as the pirate rained blaster fire onto the man. On more instinct than thought, you let go of Elodie with one arm to grab the blaster tucked in Big Blue’s holster and after flicking off the safety you rapidly pulled the trigger blindly. It took multiple bolts before you heard the pirate cry out in pain and the attack ended. Big Blue glanced over his shoulder and once pleased with what he saw he shifted off of you.

“Mirdala, wero’ika.” Big Blue grunted with a nod of approval. You held his gun out to him which he took and re-holstered then he reached down to bring you back onto your feet. The sound of an explosion made you both jump in alarm, but it came from the Corsair overhead. You watched in shock as the smoking vehicle began to careen into the side of the mountain Nevarro City was nestled against and go up into fire and ash. “Come.” Big Blue pulled you to his side to try and get you moving again. “We still need to get you both to safety.”

As Big Blue guided you through the streets and the sight of the lava plains came into view, a breath of weary relief left you. The Mandalorian next to you caught you off guard by setting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a small squeeze.

The fight was over. Your brain supplied familiar words that Din had said to you once before.

The danger has passed.

Din was frantic. After landing the N1, and leaving a crying Grogu with Peli, he began to rush through the throngs of civilians looking for a familiar face. Looking for your face. As the seconds ticked by fear gripped him tighter and tighter. What if he had been too late? What if you were still in the city? Shoving past people, more roughly than he probably should have, he finally spotted someone who could point him in the right direction.

“Vanth!” Din barked and rushed to where the man was seated on a makeshift cot. He looked worse for wear. One arm was wrapped in a sling and dried blood was splattered in his hair on the right side of his head where a line of staples held together an ugly gash.

Vanth’s bloodshot eyes glanced up and at the sight of Din he shakily rose. “Hey, brother. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Are you alright?” Din asked and after Vanth nodded, in the same breath, he added, “Where is she?”

Din didn’t need to clarify who. Vanth swallowed roughly and let out a haggard sigh, “I don’t know, Mando.” His blood ran cold. “Last I heard, Mayfeld is on the search for her. I got put out of commission pretty early in the fight.” Vanth winced with every breath and word spoken. “Little doc junior, Aayla, has been patching everyone up best she can since…” 

Since you were missing.

“The fight is over now. Anybody hiding in the city will start coming out.” Vanth tried to reassure him but it fell on deaf ears. “Mando⏤”

“Sit. Rest.” Din carefully pushed Vanth back onto the cot before moving on. 

He’d scour the entire city if he had to. Din would tear down any remaining buildings left standing if it meant finding you. This was what he did, right? He hunted. His rushed steps were nothing like the calm and collected image he tried to uphold as he hurried towards the city. All his worst fears seemed to be crumbling down on him and the beskar he wore felt suffocating. Din pushed out of the crowd, nearly broke out into a sprint, when he hard your voice. Faint. It really made no sense that he’d even be able to hear it over the lively crowd and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

However, as if drawn to it, his feet came to a stop and he turned. There you were. The parents of Grogu’s friend from school were sobbing hysterically as they held a little girl in their arms. You stood right in front of them with Paz a step behind you. It was an odd sight that left Din with more questions than answers, but all his mind could focus on was you. The rest of the world may as well have grown blurry and dim.

You were in a pair of your scrubs but they were dirty and torn. Dried blood stained the front and sides. Your hair was a mess and even from the distance he was at, he could see the exhaustion radiating from your frame. Din was moving before his mind was even aware of his body’s choice. It was you. You were right there. You were standing. You were breathing. You were safe. Maker, Din felt his heart leap up into his throat as he struggled for a gasp of relief.

Din couldn’t find his voice to cry out to you, but as if you were drawn to him as well you turned and met his gaze. His feet stuttered at the sight. Dried blood covered your features, mixed with dust and soot, and there was a wound on your hairline he could see clearly. The skin around your neck was darkened with bruising. You looked like you were in shambles, but that fire he loved still remained in your gaze. Your pretty eyes burned with life and energy and determination.

“Din!” You cried and he didn’t even register the fact that you called out his name in public. He was too thankful to hear it in your voice once more. You broke out into a sprint, to meet him halfway, and as soon as you were close enough Din snatched you into his arms in a bruising grip. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your face buried into his shoulder and if Din wasn’t so worried about jarring any of your current injuries he would’ve crushed you even tighter in his hold. “Din, I⏤ Din. Din.” Your body shook with sobs as you struggled to find words. For a beat all that could spill out was his name, but every time the sound left your lips Din felt the tight coil of fear in his chest loosen. “You’re here.”

“I am. I am, ner kar’ta, and I’m never leaving again.” He murmured to you. A promise. Din’s gloved hand buried itself in the back of your hair to pull you even closer. It took all of his strength to not rip his helmet off right now. Redemption be damned. “Ni ceta, ner kar’ta. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I should have been here.”

The only reason he was able to tear himself away from you was to examine your wounds. The injury at your hairline had scabbed over and it seemed the only other injury you had were the faint bruising around your neck. It would worsen before it got better and it was not lost on Din that the darker shade was in the shape of a hand.

“Who?” The word left his lips in a near growl. Din cupped your face and tried to swipe away tears, dried blood, and soot. His hand trailed down to lightly brush against your neck. “Who did this?”

“One of the⏤ One of the pirates. It’s a long story, I⏤” You took in a shaky breath and Din could see how close you were to crumbling. “He’s dead. I… I shot him. With the blaster I keep in my desk. I shot him.” Good. Din could see the heartbreak in your eyes, the pain, and he hated more than anything that responsibility had fallen onto your shoulders. That you had been forced into that position. Truly, you had done the pirate a favor⏤ shown him mercy. Because if he were still breathing, Din would tear the bastard apart limb from limb. “I lost your blaster. I’m so sorry⏤”

“Don’t. Stop.” Din leaned his head down to press his forehead against yours. He took in a slow breath. You were here. You were safe. You were in his arms. Din’s heart finally began to calm. “All that matters is you.”

Your hands had found his neck and the way your fingers dug through his collar told him that you were as desperate as he was for skin to skin contact. Din just needed to reassure himself that you were fine. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of you to ensure that nothing was wrong. That you were fine. It was a craving not born of lust, but concern.

“Grogu.” You breathed out in a ragged gasp. “Where’s Grogu? I need to see him. I need⏤” Din’s eyes darted over your shoulder where Elodie’s parents were still smothering their child. Something had happened in the city, you had obviously saved that girl in some way, and Din knew your desperation to see Grogu had something to do with that. “Din?”

“He’s alright. He’s safe.” Din wrapped his arm around you tightly, not willing to let go quite yet, and began to lead you back through the crowd to find where Peli was. People called out comments of relief and comfort to you as he led you through. It seemed he hadn't been the only one worried about you.

The sound of Grogu’s cries could be heard and you rushed out of Din’s arms to find the source, “Grogu!?” Din paused as he spotted Peli holding the boy as you rushed toward them. Grogu’s cries were halted and replaced with panicked wailing as he squirmed out of Peli’s arms to jump into yours. You collapsed to the ground with the boy buried in your chest. “Hey, baby. I’m here. I was so worried about you.”

Grogu continued to cry as you whispered reassurances to him. A small smile pulled up the corner of Din’s lips. For the first time in hours, he felt his shoulders relax. He took a step forward, to join his family, when familiar steps settled beside him. Paz crossed his arms and watched the reunion between you and Grogu as well.

“She saved that little girl.” Paz spoke with a hum. “She’s brave. Reckless, but brave.”

“I know.” Din replied, beaming with pride. Everything he had said to the Armorer had been true. You may not have taken the oath, walked the Way, or adorned a helmet, but you were Mandalorian through and through. It was in your spirit and soul. 

Paz nodded. “That is the one you spoke of? The woman you plan to court?”

“Yes.” Din didn’t add that you were the woman he planned to marry as well. It didn’t need to be said now or like this. Just knowing was enough for him.

“But you have yet to present her with a token of intention?”

“Not…yet.” Din turned his head to look at his brother with suspicion. .

“Hm. Perhaps, I’ll offer her a token first.” Paz chuckled. Din barked out a curse and it only made Paz laugh harder. You had risen from the ground and glanced over at the noise. Paz slapped his hand roughly against Din’s back, making him stumble, and then gave you a firm nod. “Good work, wero’ika. I was proud to share the battlefield with you.”

Din continued to glare at Paz’s retreating figure, but at the sound of your approach his gaze softened. You were still holding Grogu close to your chest as if you were afraid someone would come and snatch him away. Din understood the irrational fear. It was why as soon as you were in reach he pulled you and Grogu into his own arms. With another sigh, Din let his eyes flutter close as he rested his head on top of yours while you leaned into his chest. You were safe. His family was back together. 

What more could he ask for?

mando'a translations

Ni ceta: I'm sorry Mirdala: clever Wero'ika: little problem Ner kar'ta: my heart

taglist:

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

Andy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 2.7k

summary: you and Spencer have to learn to deal with grief without losing your marriage in the process.

warnings: grief, death, angst with unhappy ending, separation, divorce, alcoholism, minor details of a murder, two totally different points of view (don't hate Spencer or the reader)

The set of keys jangled in Spencer's hands, who was struggling to open the door without dropping the shopping bags in his other hand. He tried to do the shopping with only healthy and non-hazardous things and lately he had started bringing some of your favorite sweets, hoping this might cheer you up in some way. 

When he entered, he assumed that you were asleep, as always, so he thought of going directly to the kitchen to place the food in the corresponding spaces, thinking that maybe after that he would clean up the place a bit. He never expected to find you sitting in the dining room and both of you were startled to see the opposite. There was half a bottle of wine in front of you, you were puffy-eyed and carefully holding a photo that Spencer recognized perfectly. He noticed that you had lost some weight and you noticed the same characteristic in him, coupled with the marked bags under his eyes that evidenced the lack of rest. But in fairness, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a while.

"What are you doing here?"

“I brought groceries,” he reported, though it was obvious. Spencer reached over to the fridge to rearrange things and he noticed that almost all of last week's food were there. The milk was out of date, some of the vegetables were blackened, and there were a couple of bottles of alcohol that he definitely hadn't bought for you but always turned up there. He brought the garbage can closer and began to get rid of the rotten food, replacing it with the contents of the bags. "You have to eat something, there are things in here that you didn't even touch."

“And that's why I insist that you don't bring so much. Don't waste your money”

“It's not about the money. It's about you” he said in a stern voice and when he turned to look at you, he noticed that you weren't even looking at him.

He continued to organize things in the fridge while out of the corner of his eye he watched you take occasional gulps straight from the bottle. Before, it was the task of both of you to put the purchases in the cupboards and it had become a habit, because he liked to make you suffer with the high spaces of the cupboard just to accommodate things himself and take the opportunity to steal a kiss, which you always complained about.

He was so lost in memories that he couldn't understand you when you muttered something and then he asked you to repeat it.

"We promised to take him to Disneyland," you said, your slurred words a clear sign of drunkenness. You were holding a picture of Andy's 6th birthday: he was blowing out the candles while you and Spencer held him on either side, grinning from ear to ear. You had bought some green party hats, Andy's favorite, for the three of you to wear and the cake was a dinosaur, your son's absolute obsession “Somehow he found out they were going to have a Cretaceous world attraction and he was dying to go. We told him that when we had vacations, we would take him and to comfort him we bought him an illustrated book."

He perfectly remembered what you were telling him and a lump formed in his throat. That book was kept carefully on the small shelf in his room, along with the figures that multiple people had given him and with which he loved to play, since neither of you had had the heart to move a single object that was there.

Spencer was silent because he simply didn't know how to respond to what you had just reminded him, but he couldn't help but his stomach turned at the thought of your little boy. Although two months had passed, he hadn't even allowed himself to talk about what happened, and very rarely did he think about your son. Not because he didn't want to do it, but because he felt that if he did, things were going to completely collapse and he wasn't in a position to let that happen, not when he had so many responsibilities to fulfill.

Receiving no response, you tried to drink again, but Spencer didn't take more than a second to cross over to you to take the wine from your hands.

"Stop"

"Give it to me," you defended, standing up to try to take your drink back, but he held it just far enough out of your reach.

"You cannot continue that way"

"That's none of your business"

“Of course it is. You are my wife and I care about you."

Spencer hated the way you looked at him since that night. He felt that you were looking at him with contempt, as if he wasn't even worth your eyes on him, as if you had stopped loving him completely. And now you were looking at him like that while he was holding the alcohol you'd been drowning in for the past few weeks. 

"I don't need your pity" you practically spat, standing in front of him, but at a safe distance.

He didn't want to answer anything, for fear of hurting you in some way, so he just went to the sink to start emptying the contents of the bottle. Of course you squealed in offense at what he was doing and just headed for the fridge to get something else to drink, but before you could Spencer got in the way.

"You need help" he murmured, with a tone that reflected nothing more than the desperation he was going through. You looked at him, from below, with the same disdain that completely broke his heart "You are not okay"

"How do you expect me to be okay? I lost my son"

"He was our son," he said, suddenly sounding quite angry. It was so rare for him to get angry, much less when it came to you, but these two months had been too much to bear "Do you think I don't suffer the same as you?"

"No, I honestly don't think so. We never talked about this, Spencer, we just cried profusely at the funeral and then you carried on like nothing happened. All this time you have seemed so calm that I doubt very much that it will affect you”

“You are so wrong. You don't even know what you're talking about. Do you think it's easy for me? I have to go and work in a place where I see murderers and dead bodies all the time so that both of us can eat, pay the mortgage and basically keep our economy afloat because you decided to sink into depression and drink like a barrel without background"

“Oh, do you really want to talk about addiction problems? Because I don't think you're the best fit for that."

"Unlike you, I have not relapsed"

"Okay, then forgive me for being a weak dueling drunk."

“It's not about that, it's about the fact that you don't want anyone to help you. I hired a therapist that you decided not to go to, I have bought you everything you need in recent weeks, I have even stopped sleeping in my own house, all so that you feel calm”

"I never asked you for that, don't justify with it the fact that you wanted to leave"

"Well, maybe I left because every time I come here to check on you, you ignore me and look at me as if it was all my fault"

"Maybe it was"

"What did you say?"

"I said maybe it was" you exclaimed, now a little louder to make sure he heard you. You didn't mean any of that, you really didn't, it was just all the alcohol speaking for you “It was yours and it was my fault that man took our son from us. We should have done more"

“How, Y/N? Please explain to me how you want that, because I honestly don't understand you."

"Well maybe I should have been a better mother, because if I had been I should be dead instead of him" at this point it was useless to try to stop your crying. You were tired, dizzy, and hurt. You just wanted the whole nightmare to end “Spencer that man killed Andy just because you provoked him and you know it perfectly. He wanted revenge on you and decided that the best way to do it was to kidnap an innocent child and then kill him and then simply throw him on the side of the road. He could have hidden the body, but he wanted you to find it. He wanted us both to know that we couldn't question him like that without suffering the consequences."

"And that's why you see me as the cause of all your suffering?" tears had also started to roll down the man's cheeks, who was just as bad at holding them back as you were “Y/N I had to go identify Andy's body. I had to see him in a morgue, bruised and…” suddenly his voice broke completely. He had never told you things because he didn't want to stress you out anymore, but he felt that after everything that was happening there was no point in continuing to protect you “I barely knew it was him. He was completely deformed, I only recognized him by that scar he got on his knee when he fell from the swings and as soon as my fingers passed through it and felt the frozen skin I was completely destroyed. I had… I had to see my little boy in that state just so we both would have peace and yet you dare to say that I don't care."

“If you didn't have that job none of this would have happened to begin with! That has always been the problem, that as a family we had to compete with your work as a profiler”

"So you expected me to give up my life's work overnight?"

"I did. I quit my job to be able to raise our son.”

"And I had to stay in mine to be able to give him everything he needed"

“And look at us now. What of that did we do well? We weren't good parents and now I don't even think we're a good couple”

You two knew that this conversation was useless. You always knew Spencer went to superhuman lengths to spend time with your family, and you couldn't blame him for anything. He knew everything you had given up to take care of the housework and raise Andy. And when there were bad days, you were there for each other, but at that very moment you weren’t thinking straight. Your judgment was clouded by the pressing pain that was building up.

 “Y/N, why are you doing this to me?” his voice sounded so sincere and wounded, that even with the unconsciousness caused by the alcohol you felt a pull in your heart. Spencer was silent for a moment, a lump in his throat, and when he finally got up the courage he spoke again, “When Andy died I thought… I was devastated. I am devastated. But even with everything I thought that… I thought that I still had you. I thought together we could get through this and now you're telling me you're not even sure this is working. I try to take care of you, but you refuse to eat, you refuse to go to a therapist, you drink and sleep all day and I don't know what else to do."

"I just want you to be here, Spencer."

"I am"

"No, it's not true"

“I am supporting you, I do everything in my power to make sure you are well”

“But I don't want you to take care of me like someone sick, I just want you to be my husband! I just want you to stop pretending nothing is happening, just sit here and cry with me... I don't want you to support me, I want you to love me”

Both of you looked at each other for a second, your vision blurred by accumulated tears.

“Every day I wake up and I am strong just because I love you. You are the one who seems to no longer love me"

How could things work when the two of you offered such different things and needed such different things? Spencer thought you didn't love him anymore, you thought he didn't love you anymore, and neither of you knew what to do about it. You wanted him to be there but not the way he did and that's why you pushed him away. He walked away because he thought you didn't want him with you anymore.

But those were things none of you understood, and probably no one could. Mourning was a complicated, heartbreaking, but above all confusing process.

And, as much as he evaded reality, Spencer knew that it was a matter of time before you two broke up permanently. He knew the statistics; he knew that a large number of couples divorced after the death of a child and the numbers were more decisive than his hopes of maintaining the marriage with you. So, if these were the conversations you guys were having at one of the few times you saw each other, perhaps the threat of disbandment was closer than he imagined.

Suddenly the ringing of your husband's phone rang and you could tell by the look on his face what kind of text it was.

"A case" you guessed bitterly "It's always a case, right?"

A part of you desperately hoped that he would ignore the message, come up to you with an apology, and tell you that he would stay right there with you. But the utopian version your mind created didn't look like the real situation at all, where he just gave you a pained look from behind those teary eyes.

"I promise I'll be back. I'll come and… we can talk about all this when we're calmer. We can try to fix it, things don't have to be that way."

“But that's how they are,” you muttered, shrugging, as another message rang on Spencer's phone.

You wanted to tell him that if he really wanted to make things right with you he'd send the FBI to hell and stay there to talk, but you held back because you simply thought it was useless to do that. You were tired, so you were just going to let it go; you told him to come back whenever he wanted, without much interest in when that would be, and new dizziness hit your head from the decision you had just made.

You didn't push him away when he approached to hold your face, with a softness that surprised you, and he left you a kiss on the forehead, one of those you'd received thousands of but now it felt so strange to share.

The case dragged on into the next day, and the entire time Spencer pondered your words. Maybe he was right about some things, but you are right about others too. Perhaps if you tried to understand each other things could improve and if both of you reached an agreement little by little you would return to being a married couple and not just two people going through the loss of a child. It was worth stopping avoiding the problem and facing it to be able to be not only with you, but also for you. 

When he got home, the silence made him think that you were resting, and he still wanted to be able to lie next to you to simply hug you without saying anything. In a matter of a few seconds, so many nights passed through his mind in which he had loved you, in which you had feared and he had protected you, and those in which you had been immensely happy talking for hours until the sun bathed your face. You hadn't shared a decent kiss since Andy's funeral and suddenly the need to taste your lips became urgent, not to satisfy itself but to tell you how much he loved you. He had been an idiot these months, too busy not to break down to realize what was falling around him.

But upon reaching the room and turning on the light, all his hopes were shattered by a half-empty closet, a bed without you and a letter resting on the nightstand.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 15 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

Masterlist of my other works.

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Also please there are POSIBLE SPOILERS in this chapter. If you have not read Fire and Blood, I mention here the fate of certain characters that will happen eventually in the show, so please take that in mind. Also I describe *kinda* some aspects about the Blood and Cheese plot from the book, so keep this in mind.

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It had been the most intense dinner Rhaena had ever participated in.

Well…maybe not the most intense, but certainly the most uncomfortable.

Beside her, Baela walks in silence until they reach her chambers and are greeted by Morning, who flies to her usual spot on Rhaena's shoulders, growling playfully at Baela.

“What is she doing here?”

“Morning stays with me,” she responds, stroking her tail.

"Here? In your chambers?" Baela frowns looking at the dragon. Rhaena nods, “How strange.”

“We have not been apart since she hatched from the egg,” she comments as she follows her sister into the room. Baela is already taking off her jewelry and undoing the braids from her hair, “They did not have any appropriate place for her in the Vale, and no servant wanted to approach her,” she smiles at the memory, “So I am the one who always takes care of her.”

Her twin sighs and her gaze fixes on Morning. Rhaena is able to see the bitterness and pain in her eyes.

“Talk to me, Baela,” she asks softly, “Tell me what happened after I left Dragonstone.”

She needs the details. She needs to hear from her sister what happened during the war. Baela looks down and a silence settles between them. Rhaena fears that her twin won't talk, until she finally starts to.

“At first Rhaenyra was still hesitant about sending the dragons to fight, but that changed when we lost grandmother,” Baela's voice trails off and Rhaena walks over to her sister, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.

“I so wish I could have spent more time with her,” she admits with a similar lump in her throat, “To have known her better, or at least said goodbye properly.”

“Everything happened too quickly after that,” her sister continues, “Jace had the idea of ​​​​start searching for dragon seeds to claim the ones on the island without a rider. We thought that it would work, for a while it seemed that way, we had more dragons than them, but then…” her voice falters again.

“The Gullet?”

“The Gullet,” she nods, her eyes filling with tears, “What should have been a peaceful and unnoticed trip turned out to be the opposite because no one was counting on the intervention of the Triarchy. Aegon managed to get back on his dragon, and Jace came back for Viserys, but we ended up losing them both.”

The fate of her little brother had been a hard blow to Rhaena. The letter had arrived with the news during the sunset, and she had not been able to stop crying for weeks remembering that little boy with platinum hair whom she had cared for with so much love since his birth.

“The queen was not the same after her loss. Jace's death plunged her into despair,” she shrugs, “She just wanted revenge and she got the chance when the kinslayer left the capital unprotected.”

“I still do not understand why he did such thing,” she says, “It was an obvious mistake.”

“The council believed it was another trap, like the one at Rook's Rest, that is why I stayed with our Aegon in Dragonstone,” her sister's gaze wanders for a few seconds, “About the other part of the story, I only know the same as you. The usurper managed to flee the city, and was hiding under our noses,” her expression hardens, her nostrils twitching, “Under my noses all that time.”

“I heard that the dragon seeds betrayed us.”

“Unreliable people,” she shrugs again, “Some changed to the usurper's side and others gave themselves pretensions that they did not deserve. In the end all of them died, including Addam and that made the queen feel more paranoid. The riots and the dragon pit…” they both shudder and sigh, “Maybe if I had been here I could have avoided so much misfortune.”

Morning interrupts with a growl and leaves Rhaena's shoulders, flying towards her usual spot by the fire.

“I heard people were angry. And hungry. They acted out of their desperation, it must have been terrible for them during the war”

Baela shrugs, “Savages, all of them. Our poor dragons,” her voice falters again and Rhaena notices her eyes watering.

“What happened in Dragonstone?” insist

“Aegon gained the trust of several noble lords who were dissatisfied with Rhaenyra. By the time I found out that the usurper was on the island, I went to confront him. I really believed I could kill him, that I could end the war. I did not expect for Sunfyre to appear,” Baela looks away and her hands touch her right side, “I managed to escape, although Moondancer was not as lucky.”

Rhaena wraps her arms around her sister, her hand caressing her back. Baela snuggles into her chest and a moment later she feels tears falling into her lap.

“I just wish her sacrifice wasn't in vain,” Baela whispers.

“I am so sorry, Baela,” she says softly, “I know how much you loved your dragon.”

The lump in her throat grows even heavier at the thought of having to experience something similar now that she has Morning.

There is a moment of silence until Baela pulls away from her arms, wipes her tears with her hands and sighs.

“Our grandsire got me pardoned, and for some reason the usurper did not execute our Aegon. After that I was sent to Driftmark to be Alyn's pupil. I was still recovering from the burns, my senses clouded by the milk of the poppy, so I learned later that Grandsire’s health worsened and that the shivers disease took him”.

“Just like it took our Aegon.”

Baela snorts, “Or so they say,” her gaze drifts to the door, “How convenient that our brother died so suddenly.”

“Little Jaehaera died too,” she says, shaking her head, “I do not think they lied about her death as well. Furthermore, there were several impartial lords here who assured that no harm was done to our little brother.”

Baela doesn't say more, but her look alone is enough to convey that she does not believe that version.

“Maybe it was for the best,” Rhaena continues, “Our little brother was a threat to them, he probably would have had a much worse fate if they had let him live. At least the illness was quick”

“And all this disgrace upon our family only because they decided to usurp Rhaenyra's throne. Because of their ambition and disloyalty,” the rage emanating from her sister's body is almost palpable, “I should be on Dragonstone now, being the crown princess, married to Jacaerys and perhaps mother of one or two already.”

“Baela…”

“Have you imagined it? Have you ever thought about how things must have been?”

Rhaena nods and sighs, “It is no use for such things. We gain nothing by living in fantasies."

“But we will have our revenge,” she assures, “We will just have to wait and our time will come.”

"Why you said so?"

Suspicions born in her mind when Baela looks at her and there seems to be indecision in her gaze, as if she is controlling herself from telling Rhaena about something.   

“Just trust me, sister. Our time will come."

“Whatever you are planning, Baela, stop. You cannot…"

“Shh, shhh, it is not what you think, I assure you,” she takes her hands and looks at her, “I know that the blood and fire of our family is not in you, after all you are not a dragon rider. Or not yet,” she repeats, giving Morning a furtive glance, “But we are going to be fine, we will just have to hold on a little longer. And remember who our enemy is.”

“Why do you say those things?” she asks again

“Remember our enemy,” Baela repeats, squeezing her hands.

“I know who the enemies are, Baela,” she replies, slipping out of her grasp and grimacing.

"Do you? Because in the queen's dowager salon I thought I noticed something else."

"I do not know what you mean"

“I think you know well what I mean,” Baela stands up, placing her hands on her hips, “I saw you looking at Aemond.”

"Nonsenses. I was just being nice”

“You do not have to be nice.”

“Yes, yes I have to,” Rhaena says with a harder voice and stands up as well, “I understand that you are angry, that you think it is a betrayal just to be in the same room as them, but I have no choice. Have you not thought about what may await me in a few days when I have to share a bed with Aemond?” her sister makes a disgusted face, “Because I have. And I am scared. I do not want to be violated, I do not want to have to experience terror every time he summons me to his rooms."

"So what? Does being nice to him changes something?”

“I am trying to be useful,” she explains, “I try to please him, help him in any way I can, earn even a minimum of his respect or consideration so that he does not see me as part of his property with which he can do whatever he wants.”

“He would not dare, if he were to do that I would…”

Rhaena laughs, although it is a humorless laugh, “You will do what? What could you do living so far from here?”

Baela does not respond. Rhaena takes a few deep breaths, trying to remain calm, “I know it is not the ideal situation, but I am just trying to do the best I can with what I have. Do not hate me for that, Baela.”

“I could not hate you,” she replies immediately and closes the distance between them, hugging her sister, “I just want it to be clear to you that you cannot trust him. None of them. They are our enemy,” she cuts off her embrace, taking Rhaena’s face in her hands and looking directly at her eyes, “They always will be.”

Rhaena just nods, although Baela does not seem to notice, because she immediately releases her and takes off her dinner dress to put on her nightgown. Rhaena stares at her, noting the scars left by the dragonfire on her right side.

A while later, when they both enter the bed snuggled under the covers, the conversation turns to more nostalgic topics such as their childhood in Pentos. But, although her sister falls asleep after a while, Rhaena cannot sleep.

Sitting on the bed, she watches her twin and Baela’s question from a while ago comes back to her. What would have happened if the succession that Viserys wanted had been respected? What would have become of her? What would be her fate? Would she be in Driftmark at this moment as Luke's wife?  Or would she have married someone else? Her mind had felt calm and grateful upon learning of her betrothal to Lucerys. He had been a kind and good-tempered boy, he would probably have been an ideal companion. Her heart, on the other hand…her heart did not feel for him what she was supposed to feel. They had spent many years together on Dragonstone, but that had only made her as close to him as a sister. And although it was in her blood to marry a relative, Lucerys awakened in her nothing but brotherly affection.

Still, she had felt grateful to have an honorable destiny that was in keeping with her birthright. Although a little part within herself, one that she tried not to listen to too much, longed to find someone who would make her experience what she had sometimes read in the books that the septa did not approve of. Or what her father used to say about feeling like the true “blood of the dragon”, with that passion that made him commit crazy things, that generated pain and desire in equal parts, that one that did not conform and that sought to find its other half. The one that was a fire that burned the insides from within, consuming everything and not caring about anything. The one that Rhaenyra had felt for her father.

The one who broke your mother's heart.

Rhaena sighs and rubs her eyes before pulling the covers back over her, trying to sleep. Only after several minutes it is evident that she will not be able to fall asleep, so she slowly gets out of bed and approaches the fireplace. Morning sleeps soundly and she does not want to disturb her by touching her, so since her mind is still too restless, she takes refuge in reading.

At some point she loses the sense of time, immersed in the stories as she is, and suddenly the first rays of sun begin to enter through the curtains.

“Rhaena?”

Her sister's voice startles her. Baela sits on the bed and rubs her eyes, yawning delicately, “You woke up early.”

“Apparently not before you,” her twin smiles, stepping out from under the covers and walking over to her, “What are you reading?”

“A gift from Lady Jeyne,” she lies, closing the book immediately and standing up to put it on one of the shelves, feeling a pang of guilt as she remembers that it was Aemond who gave it to her. “Should we eat?”

Rhaena orders the maids to bring food for them and they get ready in silence before eating.

“I would like you to accompany me in my tasks today,” Rhaena bites into her muffin, “I must supervise the castle apartments where the lords who will come for the wedding will stay.”

Baela raises her eyebrows in her direction, “Do you personally take care of those matters?”

“I like to keep busy,” she nods.

“It is better than being locked up all the time, I guess.”

“They do not keep me imprisoned in a room, if that is what worries you,” she clarifies, “I am free to meet with the ladies of the Court, attend theatrical performances or walk through the gardens and the city.”

Her sister makes a dismissive gesture, “It sounds boring.”

Rhaena sighs. Of course Baela found all of this very distasteful, considering that she had grown up spending most of her time with her dragon.

“What do you normally do in Driftmark?”

“Whatever I want, of course,” she shrugs, “I usually ride horses, swim, practice crossbow shooting or sword fighting. Alyn does not limit me. These last few months I have even been accompanying him to the shipyards to learn more about the ships”

“That sounds amazing, Baela,” she smiles and takes her hand, “I am glad you can pursue your interests freely.”

“Yeah, whatever, what are we supposed to do today? Not having to socialize too much with our relatives, I hope."

“No, I suppose not,” she replies, sipping her juice, “I will meet with the royal butler and visit the rooms of the Fortress. Although, if it gets too domestic or boring for you, you could stay with Marianne and join the other ladies.”

“I'd rather be with you,” she responds quickly.

Rhaena suppresses her smile, “Come on, then.”

***

Baela is clearly losing patience little by little.

“Is it really important that Lord Beesbury not cross paths with Alicent Hightower's brother?”

The butler glances between Rhaena and her sister, his eyes finally settling on her, “Ser Gwayne must stay in the chambers next to those of the royal family,” she instructs, “I am sure the dowager queen will appreciate having her brother close by. Place Lord Beesbury next to the Tyrells, it will surely be less complicated that way.”

“Of course, Lady Rhaena.”

“Likewise, instruct the servants to keep the fires lit constantly, it is too cold at night.”

Baela snorts and Rhaena sighs, “That is all for today, thank you.”

The man bows and leaves the room. Rhaena waits until they are alone before turning to her sister, “You do not have to follow me. Could you…"

"Do what? Socialize with the ladies of the court?” she rolls her eyes

“It is not that bad, it is actually quite fun if…”

“It is not my idea of ​​fun,” she cuts her off, running her hand over the velvet curtains of the room they are visiting, “Being polite and well-liked is your thing, not mine.”

Rhaena bites the inside of her lip, suppressing her response.

“Come on, we have done enough for today,” she tells her, although she knows that in reality she has only just begun to make the decisions she should. A part of her mind tells her that she should worry less about entertaining her sister, and more about doing a good job, as she had assured Aemond she will, but in the end, she decides to take her sister's hand, “Let's go see Marianne. “You owe her an apology and we can walk around for a while and drink wine and catch up on the gossip of the fortress.”

“Could we at least go into town?” Baela proposes, “Get out of this place for a while”

“Maybe that is not a good idea,” she replies, “We would probably have to get permission from the Dowager Queen or Ae… from Prince Aemond.”

At the mention of it, her mind recalls their fleeting encounter in the hallways that afternoon. She had felt her cousin's gaze fixed on her, but had kept her gaze downcast, her hand firmly gripped in Baela's.

“I guess it will be tea with the ladies,” Baela finally relents.

Only, after a couple of days, it is clear that Baela does not particularly enjoy those gatherings either, no matter how many bards, puppeteers, or dancers appear before her.

“Lady Manderly requested an audience with you,” Marianne tells her as the others applaud the bard singing the exploits of Aegon's conquest.

“I do not grant audiences,” she replies, amused.

“That is what they are calling it,” she smiles, “They all want the chance to meet you and build good relations with you now that it seems the Dowager Queen has handed over her duties to you.”

“You know that is not the case,” she shifts uncomfortably in her chair, aware that her sister is listening attentively to the exchange.

“I am just telling you what I hear,” Marianne takes her hand, “I have already received several letters from important ladies of the kingdom wanting to invite you to drink tea or take a walk around the fortress.”

“Well, they will have to wait, I still have a lot to do.”

“I did not know they would be here today.”

Rhaena follows Marianne's gaze to Lady Redwyne's front doors, where they are gathered this afternoon, to see the Baratheon sisters enter. The girl hadn't seen them much lately, which was a relief.

“Are they the daughters of Borros Baratheon?” Baela sounds curious next to her. Rhaena nods, “Interesting.”

Rhaena is tempted to leave, but eventually just returns to her conversation, joined by Lady Stokeworth and Lady Darklyn, who steal her attention by happily whispering about the wedding.

“Where is Baela?” she asks after a few minutes

“Over there,” Marianne points her face toward where her twin is conversing with the Baratheon sisters.

Rhaena frowns in her direction, but she tries to hide her displeasure at seeing them together and continuing the conversation with the other ladies, while she internally wonders what they could be talking about with her sister.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she finally says, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer.

Rhaena walks purposefully towards her twin, gently and firmly holding her elbow to get her attention. Baela turns and smiles widely at her, “Rhaena!”

“You were absent without warning,” she responds.

“I wanted to come and say hello to our cousins.”

“Of course,” Rhaena feels, “Cousins.”

“Cousin Rhaena,” they greet almost in unison.

“What were you talking about?” Rhaena asks without holding back

Baela opens her mouth, but Cassandra interrupts, “I do not think Rhaena would like to hear what we were saying about her future husband.”

"Oh no?" Baela continues smiling, “Why? We are not telling lies."

“Baela…”

“He's so presumptuous! He had the audacity to use a sapphire to cover his missing eye,” Baela giggles, “It does not do him any favors.”

“I share your opinion,” Maris replies.

“I think it gives him a certain air of mystery,” Floris says.

Rhaena finds herself agreeing with Floris. And she hates herself for that.

“Maybe when he was riding Vhagar, but now he is nothing more than a cripple who…”

“Enough, Baela.”

Her voice sounds harsher than she intends, “All of you, enough. I thought you came here to encourage your sister, not to spread mean comments.” Rhaena turns to her twin, “I would expect this from anyone but you.”

Without giving them a chance to respond, she turns her back on them, and leaves the room.

Baela reaches her without problems, holding her arm, “There was no need to get so angry, we were just joking.”

“It is beneath you to make fun of someone's appearance.”

“I wonder if you would react like this if it were someone else we were talking about?”

“You know I would,” she replies, “I do not like to be cruel. And neither are you."

"He…"

“Baela, stop it,” she asks, an ache starting to form in her head, “I do not want to fight. Let's just go. I still have things to do.”

Her sister relents again and they return to her chambers, where Baela entertains herself reading while Rhaena embroiders the bridal goods, her hands mechanically tracing the patterns of the prince's initials. Her eyes drift to the book she hasn't opened since that other morning, her insides feeling strangely empty at the thought of the prince.

***

It is amazing, Rhaena thinks, how she most often encounters her cousin when she tries not to see him.

At the beginning of her arrival at the Fortress, it was strange if she saw him once or twice during the same week. Now, however, she saw him repeatedly, always in the company of other lords. And he always looked for her gaze.

A look that she refuses because her relationship with her twin is increasingly unstable, and she knows that Baela does not take her eyes off her every time Aemond appears, waiting for Rhaena to react in some way that confirms that this supposed closeness between the two is more than a simple strategy on her part.

Which is totally false, she thinks. She was only nice to him because she had to be, not because she wanted to.

So why is it increasingly difficult to stop yourself from approaching him and finding any excuse to talk to him?

Rhaena bites the inside of her lip and looks at the scrolls the royal butler hands her. This afternoon Baela is not with her, preferring to stay in her rooms to write a couple of letters for Alyn.

“Lord Bracken requests an unusual number of candles,” the man comments.

“No less than Lord Blackwood.”

“That was to be expected,” she murmurs, “Put the same amount in both rooms. And make both of their servants to be housed at different ends of the servants' quarters, if possible, I do not want to give rise to possible altercations."

"Yes, my lady"

“What about the food?”

“The hunters got deer, pheasants and wild boar”

“Well, do not forget the lamprey pies, they are the queen’s dowager favorite,” she hands the scrolls to the man, “Once the food is ready, distribute some of it to the people of the city.”

“How come, my lady?”

“What you just heard,” she nods, “Breads, fruits and some meat. And wine. The people should also enjoy the royal wedding.”

“I don't know if the prince regent…”

“Prince Aemond will surely accept my idea.”

"Indeed"

Aemond's voice bursts into the room so suddenly that for a moment she thinks she is imagining it. But, when the royal butler turns his head toward the door, Rhaena does indeed find the figure of her cousin there.

“Do as Lady Rhaena orders.”

The man bows to the prince, who has approached them, stopping near Rhaena.

“The last guests of the Vale delegation also arrived, they are…”

“Enough for today,” Aemond interrupts, “Leave us.”

“Thank you, we will continue tomorrow,” Rhaena tries to smile at the man, although inside she is dealing with that annoying feeling of nerves that Aemond's presence produces.

Once they are alone, Rhaena begins to play with her hands, her throat suddenly feeling dry and she doesn't know what to say. What is Aemond doing here? He does not usually visit this part of the castle, surely he hasn't come expecting to find her.

Or had he?

“You have been diligently taking care of your tasks.”

Her cousin's voice breaks the silence. Rhaena nods, still not daring to look at him, “It is a welcome change to occupy my hours with activities beyond tea with the ladies of the Court.”

"Hmm"

Aemond does not say more, just takes a step towards her, coming so close that his knees touch the folds of her burgundy dress. Rhaena takes in the elaborate details of the dark green leather doublet he is wearing, trying to distract herself from the intensity of his gaze, not wanting to look directly at him.

But it is impossible not to do so.

Finally, sighing, she looks up and meets the prince's. Her husband-to-be. Is it her impression or does his face seem less severe? Rhaena digs her nails into the palm of her hands, trying to calm the palpitations of her heart and distract her mind.

“I am glad you accepted my idea of ​​distributing food to the people,” she ends by saying.

“It was a good idea,” he admits, tilting his head.

“Yes, yes, it was,” she nods.

Rhaena wants to say something else, but any coherent thought is lost when Aemond lifts his left hand and brings it to her neck. There is a moment of hesitation in the prince's gaze, as if he doubts what he is going to do, but finally his fingers close around the pendant he bought in the city for her. Rhaena closes her eyes as his fingers brush against her skin, his touch as delicate as…

"What is the meaning of this?"

Baela's voice cuts through the intimacy of the moment. And Rhaena is suddenly aware of how close she is to Aemond, so she immediately backs away from him.

“Bae…” she clears her throat, “Baela, I thought you were writing to Alyn.”

Her twin steps into the room, her wary eyes darting between Aemond and Rhaena.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No, no, of course not,” she is quick to respond.

Beside her, Aemond purses his lips and glares at her before looking at Baela.

“Let's go, Rhaena, I do not want you near the kinslayer.”

“Kinslayer?” Aemond says sarcastically.

“That is what you are,” she spits, “A murderer, a violent villain, and a coward…”

"Coward? "I think you are confusing me with your father, cousin."

Rhaena gasps and is aware of her sister's self-control fading as she closes the distance between them, ready to attack Aemond.

“Stop, Baela, stop!”

Rhaena manages to place herself between them and take her sister's arm, trying to restrain her. Aemond, fortunately, does not move, although his expression remains one of mockery and clear satisfaction.

“Remember your place, Baela. You are nothing more than a guest here, totally at the mercy of my good will and kindness.”

“Usurpers! You and your family are traitors!”

“Sister, please, he is just provoking you,” Rhaena whispers in her ear, “Say no more and let's go, please.”

“You should listen to your sister and keep silent.”

"How dare you!"

“Aemond, please.”

Rhaena looks at him, imploring with her eyes for him not to continue with his bickering. Aemond grimaces and finally says, “Very well.”

Baela releases from her grasp, her chest rising and falling from her labored breathing. “How can you tolerate him?” she asks Rhaena

“I have already explained it to you,” she replies with a sigh.

“Well, I do not understand,” her furious gaze now turns to her sister, “What were you doing here with him before I arrived?”

“Not the things you are thinking.”

“I am not stupid, Rhaena.”

Rhaena hears Aemond mutter something, although she does not understand what it is.

“I thought you were here alone and… terrified… surrounded by our enemies, but… it seems like you are enjoying it.”

"What?" Rhaena gasps.

“Yes, yes, that is it,” Baela laughs gracelessly and a malicious glint settles into her eyes. Her sister has never known how to contain her impulses, but knowing that doesn't make her next accusations hurt any less, “You enjoy playing the grand lady of the castle, don't you? Clinging to any scrap of power they give you, to the scraps they throw at you."

"I do not…”

“Do you think I have not noticed? The importance you give to yourself with your ladies-in-waiting and with the invitations of the Court, walking with your dragon from one place to another, enjoying being the center of attention for the first time”

Rhaena doesn't know what to say.

“Is this your way of punishing us?” Baela continues, “Is this your way of punishing your family for exiling you to the Vale during the war since you were useless because you were not a dragon rider?”

Exiled to the Vale. Useless.

Baela’s words echo in her mind and her tears slide down her face, but she doesn't bother to hide them. Her eyes meet her sister's, but she only sees disappointment and anger in them. She wonders if Baela sees the pain she is causing her.

“Enough,” Aemond says, the soft tone of his voice not disguising the clear warning he conveys, “I do not want to hear another word from you. Leave the city, you have already extended your stay here for too long.”

Baela looks furious, but it is perhaps her survival instinct that makes her not respond. When Rhaena tries to approach her, however, her sister turns around and strides out of the room.

“Baela…”

Rhaena wants to go after her, but Aemond's arm on her elbow prevents her from doing so. Rhaena turns to him and looks at him still with tears in her eyes.

“You should not have told her those things,” she reproaches him.

“She should not have spoken to you that way,” he replies coldly.

Rhaena pulls out of his grasp and backs away as she shakes her head from side to side, “She is going to hate me now. She was so upset…she thinks…she…she thinks…”

“What difference does it make what your sister believes?”

“She is going to hate me!” she repeats, crying again, “And it is your fault.”

"My fault?"

“Yes, your fault!” Rhaena lets out a sob and tremors invade her body, “All because I tried to be nice to you, I explained it to her, but she does not believe me, she thinks I am a traitor and…” her ideas mix in her head, her mouth blurts out the first thing she thinks of. “I should hate you. I should hate you, I should feel sick every time you are near me."

"Oh yeah?"

“Yes, because it is all your fault,” Rhaena almost screams and approaches again, her eyes fixed on Aemond's, “Everything bad that's ever happened in my life is your fucking fault. You killed Lucerys, my betrothed. I was going to marry him, I was going to return home to Driftmark, to live close to the memories of my mother. I was going to be happy and you took this away from me. And you killed my grandmother and you even killed my father. You killed my father and now you take my future and join it to yours. Not counting the hundreds… or thousands of people you killed in the Riverlands. Innocent women and children. My sister is right, everyone is right… you are a kinslayer.”

Something changes in his expression when he hears her call him a kinslayer. His temper, under control until then, is unleashed and the latent rage that never quite goes away is released, “Yes, I am a kinslayer, and I enjoyed becoming one. Especially when I killed your father.”

“How can you be so heartless?”

“Heartless?” he hisses, grabbing her arms violently and shaking her, “It was not me who sent two murderers to kill a little boy. Your side likes to wallow in their false morals and forget about the crimes they committed. Tell me, Rhaena, as much as you like to mourn your loved ones, do you think I didn't feel the loss of mine? Do you think I didn't feel anything when I found out my nephew's head had been cut off?”

"That was…"

“Your father was a coward. He did not confront me, but rather he preferred to send two criminals to do his dirty work. Do you even know how they tormented my sister? Do you? Answer to me!"

“I don't know,” she answers honestly.

“They made my sister choose between her two children. And when she wanted to offer herself in their place, they threatened to assault my niece. And all under your father's orders. My sister had to live with the weight of her decision, of knowing that she chose one son to save another. That drove her crazy. I lost her at the same time as I lost Jaehaerys. And then when we lost little Maelor, she threw herself out the window. Do you know how that felt? To find out that my only sister threw herself from the tower until she fell on the stakes because she couldn't stand being alive anymore? My sister was innocent! Her children were innocent! Even so, Maelor was torn to pieces by the crowd because they all wanted to receive the reward that your queen placed on him. Did you know that, Rhaena? Do you still believe now that your side was the good and honorable one?”

Aemond releases her so violently that Rhaena stumbles and falls to her knees. The prince watches her for a few seconds before approaching her and offering his hand to stand up, but she rejects it, preferring to sit on the cold stone floor and hug her legs, hiding her face between her knees.

She doesn't know how much time passes, nor does she care. She just cries. She cries and thinks about everything Aemond just told her, her mind reliving every monstrous detail of the death of her cousin Helaena and nephews. And the Gods Eye. In her father flying over Caraxes, her father, a hard and cruel man. A…kinslayer. She feels sick. She feels… dirty. And she feels the nausea rise in her throat, but she breathes deeply until she manages to quell that feeling.

Finally, when she calms down, she lifts her face and is amazed to see that Aemond has sat down next to her, although at a safe distance. When her face seeks his, she seems to notice that he too has cried.

And although his face is a mask of coldness, Rhaena can see the tiredness and sadness in his eye. The same sadness that she had seen that afternoon at the orphanage in the city. The one that overwhelmed him every time he, surely, remembered his sister Helaena.

“I did not know the details of what happened to your sister and her children,” she says, her voice hoarse and weak, “I was angry and filled with indignation, of course, when I found out about Jaehaerys. It was not something Rhaenyra or anyone on Dragonstone wanted. By the time I found out that it was my father who gave the order, he had already left for Harrenhall without giving me the opportunity to confront him.”

As if you dared to do it, that voice inside her says, though Rhaena silences it immediately.

"That was the last time I saw him. I left for the Vale shortly after the attack on Rhaenyra and... the news I had of the war I heard through Lady Jeyne, who I believe was trying to protect me from the most grotesque and unpleasant details."

Aemond seems to consider her words for a long moment before simply nodding.

“Anyway, those crimes do not justify yours, not entirely,” she dares to say, “You hurt a lot of innocent people.”

“We were at war”

“A war that should never have started in the first place”

Aemond tilts his body towards her, “The throne was my brother's birthright.”

“And the king wanted his daughter to succeed him,” she replies, looking at him defiantly, “Does that count for nothing? Does the word of a king have no value?”

When he does not respond, she just sighs. After a few seconds, he finally speaks.

“I felt no pleasure in killing Lucerys. I lost my temper, I was impulsive and it was a mistake. I was sorry for what happened,” he admits.

Rhaena holds his gaze and, strangely, finds sincerity in his words, “And my grandmother?”

“We were at war,” he says again, “I had to protect my family. It was her or me."

And it ended up being her.

“About your father, I think I have already made my reasons clear.”

Rhaena nods, and bites her lip, contemplating whether she should continue. In the end she simply lets her heart speak, “He was not an easy man. Half the time I feel like I did not even know him. He and I didn't… I don't think we really connected. Daemon preferred to spend his time with Baela, teaching her to speak Valyrian and flying together. I was a…"

The girl leaves the idea in the air and shrugs her shoulders.

“My father did not have time for me either. In his mind, I am sure, he only had one daughter. My siblings and I never really counted. And even between them, I did not quite fit growing up. They had their dragons and I did not have Vhagar yet."

Rhaena agrees. She, too, had felt like an intruder among her family.

“That night in Driftmark I was so envious of you,” Rhaena admits.

“I did not steal from Vhagar.”

“No, not for your dragon,” she giggles, “For your mother. While the maester attended to you, Queen Alicent did not leave your side for a moment. And then she stood up for you and it became clear to everyone how much she loved you,” she smiles sadly, “I had just lost my mother. And I was alone, in a strange castle, and yes, in theory I had my grandparents, but it was the first time I had seen them and... I only wanted my mother. A hug from her, a caress, a word of encouragement. I saw you with the queen and that hurt a thousand times more than the fact that you claimed Vhagar."

 “Daemon…”

“He was there, yes, but he was more attentive to Rhaenyra's children than to me,” she recalls, “And then… once we returned to our rooms, he came to tend to Baela's wounds and I finally thought, ” she smiles, “He is finally here and he will comfort us and tell us that it was not our fault or that… I do not know, that everything was going to be okay, but instead he blamed me.”

“Why did he blame you?”

“He said it was my fault that you had claimed Vhagar. That, if I had been braver, I would have taken the opportunity to finally have a dragon.”

And that way the oldest beast of the Targaryen house would not have ended up in the hands of Hightower trash.

But she decides not to tell him that part.

Aemond just looks at her, as if he considers her words. Finally, he makes a face and speaks again.

“That night was one of the few that I felt my mother's loving touch. I know she cared about us, but it was not in her nature to show it with displays of affection. I was probably her favorite until before the war. When I became regent,” he tilts his head, “I felt that having her by my side was a weakness. And I had also disappointed and scared her after what happened in Storm's End. She looked at me with fear, as if she doubted me and I... I pushed her away. And then I disappointed her even more. Now she can barely look me in the eye or hold my hand. And it is now when I most seek her affection, her attention, but it is someone else who receives it."

“Daeron.”

“Yes, Daeron.”

“I noticed,” she finds herself saying, “It is obvious that you want to be her favorite again. Or maybe I just know what it is like to be in your position,” she shrugs, “The fact is, I have been using that desire of yours to cement my position here”

“Mmm,” he smiles sideways, “It is smart to use the advantages you have, which aren't too many.”

“I had to do something”

“Because, how did you say? I will soon take your future to join it to mine?”

“You cannot blame me for fearing being your wife,” she responds with her face up, facing him, “We have been in opposites side since the beginning, and I have heard terrible stories about what happens in the intimacy of couples.”

“Do not be afraid, cousin, I do not like to force women.”

“Can I trust you then?”

“Regarding what?”

“Regarding you won't mistreat me once I am your wife.”

“You have my word,” he says and adds, “If you trust it.”

“I trust you,” she replies.

And, for some strange reason, she is certain that it is true. That despite everything she knows and has seen of Aemond Targaryen, she trusts him to keep his word on that.

“How about a new deal, then? Or better yet, a truce."

"Truce?"

“Between both of us and with my sister too”

“She is annoying and she is also jealous of you. Baela resents everything you now have because she lost it.”

Rhaena ignores him and decides to think later on his words, “A truce, Aemond, to get along better. We will be one, in a way, in a few days. I really would like to at least be able to enjoy your company and have your friendship in this marriage.”

Rhaena extends her hand towards him and watches him consider her proposal. In the end, he takes her hand, the butterflies in her stomach reviving at his touch.

“Truce,” he nods.

And then he brings her hand up to his mouth and brushes his thin lips against her knuckles, causing a wave of pleasure inside her that makes her think that maybe he will get more out of her than a simple friendship.

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[gregoftom]

Something else I don’t think people consider with regards to anon’s point is what exactly those terms and conditions are.

We already know how prickly Ewan is about well, everything, and that he cuts Greg’s mom off at some point after season three starts I think. But like, is that even the first time? The brothers are much more similar than people want to believe and I think it’s possible Ewan could have cut Marianne off and brought her back in depending on their standing while Greg was growing up and he witnessed that. We just don’t have enough backstory to know because for some reason the writers set up this fascinating character and then did nothing with all that lore.

That’s why I can’t get behind people who think Greg was stupid to give up his inheritance. At least with Logan he was in good standing and guaranteed a job with Tom to look out for him. With his grandpa he’s on horrible footing and with no direction of what he wants from him either? Like if he quit Waystar and got another job somewhere else (which, as we’ve seen despite having the skills to hold his own in the company Greg clearly has difficulty in the workforce and maintaining employment), who’s to say Ewan wouldn’t also take offense to that job’s morals and demand Greg quit again? It’s a slippery slope where Greg would truly be under his grandpa’s thumb until his death and even then who knows what that bitter old crone would pull. And at no point does Ewan offer assistance to help Greg with that transition, like quit Royco and I’ll give you a cushion to help you get back on your feet. Nah. It’s do what I want when I want, without the guidance needed to make such a decision.

Also!!!! Thanks anon for reminding us we as an audience forget Greg literally supports his mom. On the little evidence we see she doesn’t seem to work or have a conventional job either, with always being in bed surrounded by wine and pills. Based on her panic spending in the season three premiere and Greg’s buying that 40k watch out of humiliation it’s clear neither of them have smart spending habits or know how to budget. Ewan likely never taught Marianne, and Marianne definitely never taught Greg and now they struggle to be well adjusted working members of society and he gets pissed at them for floundering. Obviously it’s an individual’s responsibility as an adult to look out for themselves and not blame or rely on other people but the fact that Ewan has endless resources at his disposal to help them not be struggling just to survive and doesn’t is nothing short of cruel.

(also don’t even get me started on the fact that Greenpeace itself is a problematic organization that just proves Ewan either does no research into what he wants to spitefully put Greg’s inheritance towards, or simply does not care and only wants it to look good on paper. Greg was right to want to sue lmao)

oh yeah no exactly that’s what pisses me off about ewan too like this bitch could tell greg to jump a certain height and greg would do it with a backflip and it still wouldn’t be good enough, he’s a find something to be wrong with it. ewan is very much like logan and i’ll never understand mfs who say otherwise.

wrt marianne i agree and do believe she has been cut off before, like, this isn’t the first time, and like you say she hasn’t been taught to budget and spend properly and neither has greg, which fits with ewan’s ideology so it makes sense that they would blow all their money. greg did indeed look after his mama despite the fact she would not give him money at the beginning [perhaps echoing her own upbringing?] and i didn’t think about the fact that maybe she doesn’t work and didn’t previously, on god maybe greg has been looking after her for a lot longer than we think and him supporting her when he starts to get money is just a continuation of that. oh oof.

oh for real ewan is a bastard i hate his ass he is awful, just as awful as logan and lmfao i know right. there’s a lot of issues with green peace but ewan doesn’t give a fuck, i’m pretty sure his view is it doesn’t matter if there are a few problematic aspects bc on the whole it’s a “good” organisation. his views and opinions and correct and justifiable in this matter. i love how ppl get so up in arms when greg says he’ll sue greenpeace like yeah there are better things to pick but it’s not exactly evil of him when for example one of their members lots a bunch of money via gambling and another did many short trips gassing the shit out of the atmosphere and going against their policy, not to mention damage to the nazca lines.

[zprites]

Do You Ever Really Know? - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is now up! <3

Summary: After deciding to find a way to reverse the effects of the collider explosion, Jonathan Ohnn (now going by 'The Spot') had set out to find a dimension where there was no Spider-Person. However his plans get foiled almost immediately by someone who shouldn't even exist in that universe. Who was this 'Spider Lily', and why did she want to help him? And why can't he get her out of his head?

Only warnings are eventual smut in the final chapter and brief mentions of death and a destruction of a universe. Also fair warning, these two flirt, A LOT.

Enjoy!

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Also Available on Ao3

Chapter 2 - Anamorphosis

There were some things about Earth-9210 that were different from his home dimension. As soon as Jonathan traveled through the portal almost two weeks ago, he was immediately aware that the sky here was a rich lavender rather than the blue he was accustomed to. 

There also seemed to be quite a few vigilantes roaming the streets, if the numerous conversations he happened to overhear were anything to go by. Like the group of teenage girls giggling as he passed by them inconspicuously, gushing about some guy in a red and black suit who saved a cat from a tree before proceeding to blow up a vehicle carrying a massive amount of drugs, killing everyone inside. 

And that didn't even scratch the surface. Apparently there was an alien symbiote who ate the heads off of murderers and rapists while whispers of mutant reptiles living in the sewers occasionally circulated the news.

Thankfully he hadn’t run into any of these so-called ‘vigilantes’ yet and he planned to keep it that way. 

Now heroes on the other hand, there was one that he was dying to see again. 

He didn’t quite know what it was about that Spider-Woman but with one conversation, she had managed to make a home for herself in his head. Maybe it was the way she was the only one who treated him like a normal person since the Super-Collider explosion. Maybe it was the fact that in such a short time, he felt deeply connected to her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Or maybe it was because she reminded him so much of the woman he had a crush on thirteen years ago.

Liz... 

Last he saw on Facebook, she was happily married with a second kid on the way. Fragmented memories were all he had left — caramel brown hair that shined like fire in the sunlight, green eyes with golden rings that reminded him of summer, a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and upper cheeks, her pinky linked in his as a promise was made.

A promise to keep in touch. 

A promise that turned out to be disingenuous, as the number she gave him was a random string of digits that belonged some middle-aged woman in Ohio. 

It wasn't that he was left heartbroken, it was just a bout of puppy love that ceased as soon as he disconnected the call. Then years later, by some twisted sense of fate, he saw her name pop up on his 'People You May Know' list and after a quick gander at her life, he promptly hit 'Remove'.

He scoffed out loud as he ambled along the barren sidewalks, the only source of light coming from the street lamps above. Just because both women partook in the most sacred of oaths didn’t mean that they were similar in any way.

“Well believe it or not, I do like you.”

Yeah, they were entirely different. 

He stopped in his tracks and stared up at the night sky. With all of the city lights it was almost impossible to make out the twinkling of stars yet he still searched for them, as if finding one would help him understand this feeling inside him. 

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he knew exactly what this feeling was, he was just too scared to admit it.

With a sigh he focused his attention back to the concrete, intent on continuing on his path but stopped short when he caught a glimpse of something bright out of his periphery. He turned to look across the street at the mural decorating the brick of the building. 

Swirls of violets and pinks blended together seamlessly amidst a deep crimson. At the forefront was a near perfect illustration of this universe’s Spider-Woman, body frozen in a back flip as she shot out her webbing from fingerless gloves. 

Jonathan stood there for an unknown amount of time. A myriad of thoughts tormented him, all of them circulating back to one singular wish.

He wanted to see her again…

He wondered… Did she think about him too? If he went to that same rooftop, would she be there waiting for him? If she was, what would she do? 

There was still a small chance she meant none of what she said, that her proclamation of feeling drawn to him and flirting was all a lie. He didn't know anything about her after all. Hell, they only met a week ago. And yet...

Every fiber of his being told a different story.

“Like I said hun, I mean what I say.”

Before he could second guess himself, he opened up a portal in front of him and stepped through, destination clear in his mind. Jonathan allowed the portal to close behind him as he scanned the roof for any sign that she might be there. 

His heart did a somersault in his chest when his gaze landed on her. It felt as though the world around him stopped existing for a moment as something akin to hope sparked through him.

She was dressed in her spider suit, just like last time, sitting on the edge of the rooftop with her back to him. A halo of soft light originating from the adjacent windows where insomniacs thrived in the beauty of the night bathed her form, making her look like an angel. Her shoulders shook in time with the melody of her laughter that filled the stillness of the air, sending tingles along his unnatural skin. 

She was more like a siren than an angel, luring him in with an ease that would put even the most powerful of enchantresses to shame. 

“Aly, that man is more emotionally constipated than a sea sponge. He has no backbone either!"

At first he thought she was talking to him, but the confusion he felt turned into realization as he quickly understood she was on a phone call despite no device in sight. He surmised that she probably had some type of Bluetooth accessory set up inside her mask. 

"You're welcome.” She said with a hint of amusement. “But honestly, it's painfully obvious that you two like each other." 

 Jonathan shifted from one foot to the other, uncertain if he should make his presence known to her. It didn’t sound like an important conversation but he didn’t want to interrupt. He also didn’t want to leave so he stayed rooted in place.

"Want to make him proud? So you see him as a father figure? Damn, putting a whole new spin on ‘daddy’." She devolved into a fit of giggles. "I kid, I kid." 

She laid back onto the asphalt of the rooftop while her legs dangled off the edge. The black lenses of her mask widened when she noticed him standing there, giving him an enthusiastic wave that caused his cheeks to flush.

“There you are, handsome.” 

Her gentle voice echoed inside his head as he waved back dumbly.

“I’ll be done in a minute or two then you’ll have my undivided attention, okay?”

He nodded as she turned her focus back to the person on the other line.

"Sorry, thought I saw someone getting mugged. You were saying?"

He waited patiently, watching as she listened intently until she spoke up in a dismissive tone. 

"I'm not really the mission type, you know this… Plus I doubt Miguel needs, let alone wants my help for anything. Although it would give me a front row seat to the soap opera that is you and Miguel."

She didn’t give them a chance to respond before she hastily said her goodbyes. “I have to go, but just know that LYLA sends me a lot more than you realize. Buh-bye now!” 

He watched as she pressed a finger to her ear, confirming his theory that her mask had Bluetooth capabilities. She then patted the spot to her left without a word, an open invitation for him to sit beside her. With timid steps he made his way over while trying to calm his nerves before sitting down, his long legs hanging off the ledge next to hers. 

“I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

He looked down at her, doing his best to not gawk too much at the way her large breasts fell to the sides. "You’ve been waiting for me?”

“More like I found myself coming up here a lot this past week.” She clarified. “Although each time I was hoping to see you here too.”

“Why though? I mean, I'm just some guy that got caught in the middle of a failed robbery and you — you're Spider-Woman for crying out loud! I just... I don't get it...”

He fidgeted with his fingers, staring down at his lap as his anxiety grew by the second. Shame creeped into his bones the longer she stayed quiet. 

He shouldn’t have come here.

After what felt like hours, she broke the silence. “Do you remember what I said when you asked me what I saw when I looked at the spot on your face?”

He remembered. How could he not when her words occupied his waking thoughts, bleeding into his dreams to form a silhouette in her image, holding him close against the tides of doubt and dejection that wreaked havoc inside of him.

Gentle fingers came to rest atop his restless hands and he turned his gaze to her. She was sitting up once more, staring with an intensity that held nothing but a tenderness he felt undeserving of.

“You’re more than just ‘some guy’. You found a way to occupy every fraction of my mind without even trying. So of course I wanted to see you again. I meant it when I said I want to know everything about you. Hopefully you share that same sentiment.”

He cursed the feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing that continued to swirl in his stomach, battling against the surety of her words. Words that told him he was enough, he still had purpose in life, and he was deserving of love.

“I do.” He rasped breathily before he cleared his throat. “I— I mean, I want that too, to know you...”

Her smile reached the lenses of her mask which crinkled in response. "We can start small, like names. You called me 'Spider-Woman' earlier but I actually go by Spider Lily."

"Spider Lily." He repeated back with a touch of wonderment.

“Yep.” She pulled back the hand that rested atop his own. “But you can call me Lily.”

He was already missing her touch. “Is that your real name?”

“No, but there’s no harm in a little mystery, don't you think?”

What she said sounded surprisingly similar to…

“Wait, you play Baldur’s Gate 3?” He questioned excitedly, his feet doing a little dance in the suspended air. 

Lily chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Hell yes I do. I'm glad that some things stayed the same across our dimensions. Maybe we could play it together sometime once the full game is out in August.” 

“August? Man, where I’m from it wasn’t set to release until November. I'd love to play it with you!” He recalled countless hours he spent playing the early access of the game, trying out different classes with each new update and testing the limits of what each character could achieve.

However mundane it sounded, he missed playing video games.

“It’s a date then.” She declared lowly. “So does my co-op partner have a name?”

Her co-op partner… If that didn’t send a new round of warmth to blossom in his chest…

“Ah, yes. My name is Jonathan.”

He saw her body tense at his introduction and for a brief moment, a flash of dread pumped through his veins.

Did he say something wrong?

“Is everything okay...?”

His question pulled her out of her trance as she let out a deep breath. “Sorry. I just— I knew a Jonathan once, a long time ago but we drifted apart.”

She couldn't possibly mean... No. It was irrational to even think that she could have known another version of him. There were probably a few hundred thousand other people out there who shared his first name.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from wondering who this 'Jonathan' she used to know was, yet one glance at the way she hugged her arms to her chest and pointedly looked down at the street below had him holding back any further questions on the matter. 

“Well, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself.” He suggested, hoping to add a bit of levity to dispel the heavy topic that still filled the space between them. 

Thankfully she took the bait, turning her attention back to him. “What do you want to know?”

Everything...

Instead he found himself asking the one of the first things he wondered about when they first met. 

“Why do you live in this universe?”

“What do you mean?” The lenses of her mask narrowed slightly.

“I told you that I came to this dimension because I thought it would be easier to steal enough money for my machine here. That's because I knew that this universe’s Spider-Man died three years ago.” He was suddenly reminded of the numerous Super-Collider tests and Olivia’s orders to document all possible universes, especially those without a Spider-Person. Just thinking about what she planned to do with that information had she survived the collider explosion sent a shiver up his spine. “So either you're from another dimension or a series of events similar to my own dimension happened here that caused another Spider-Person to be created, and something is telling me it's the former.”

She let out a huff and shook her head. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out sooner rather than later.”

Jonathan took note of the way she ran a manicured nail across her fingertips, most likely a nervous habit of hers. “I suppose I owe you a story, huh?”

In lieu of responding he stayed silent, allowing her some time to gather her thoughts and hopefully feel more at ease.

“You’re right, I’m not from this universe.” Lily finally spoke up. “I'm originally from Earth-728 which no longer exists.”

The spot on his face widened before scrunching in on itself to imitate a frown. “What happened?”

“About two years ago there was a hostage situation. My best friend, Jay, was one of the civilians involved.” Her words held an aura of melancholy that had him almost regretting asking in the first place. “We grew up in the same foster home. Although he was a couple years older than me and called me ‘annoying’ at every opportunity, he took me under his wing. He taught me sign language since I was practically nonverbal when I was placed and even beat up some bullies from school who were picking on me one day. I was a senior in high school when I was bitten by a radioactive spider and… he was the first and only person I told I was Spider Lily.” She exhaled shakily as she peered up at the dark sky above them. “Jay was a lot smarter than me when it came to building tech so when I brought up the design for my suit, he helped bring it to life and also made my web-shooters. He… he was the closest thing to a brother I ever had.” 

Before he could stop himself, Jonathan reached out and took one of her hands in his own. “You don’t have to tell me-”

“No.” She gently squeezed his hand. “I want to, it’s just a hard story to tell…”

Neither one of them pulled away, holding onto each other’s hand as she continued. 

“I didn’t know anything about the multiverse back then, so I thought it was going to be another simple rescue — save Jay alongside the rest of the hostages and apprehend whoever was behind it all. There was a man, someone who claimed to be from another dimension, who was demanding that MetroLife hand over some sort of prototype. He called himself Doctor Octopus.”

A pit settled in his stomach, a wave of nausea clashing against the chill that spread throughout his body at the mention of Olivia's alternate self.

“This 'Doc Ock' guy got the help of my universe's Prowler and together they took over Metro Tower, holding the hostages ransom on the top floor. After a long winded speech he ordered Prowler to keep me busy, so we fought.” Her hand tightened around his as she closed her eyes. 

“He... His mask got knocked off and... He should have told me he was the Prowler, it would have made things simpler... Maybe...” She trailed off and he closed the distance between them, scooching over so that their shoulders touched. 

“Hey, it's okay. Take your time.” He soothed.

Lily let out a shuddering breath while gently nudging her knee against his in a show of gratitude. 

“Or maybe things wouldn’t have been simpler since we were both hiding our secret identities from each other for nearly two years.” She let out an unamused scoff.

“You knew him?”

A drawn-out sigh escaped her. “Yeah, his name was David and we were dating at the time…”

He was a bit taken aback by that revelation but did his best to not let that show on his features, telling himself that she needed comfort right now, not any superfluous reactions. 

“I was upset so I tore off my mask, but looking back on it I don’t blame him for keeping his secret. Hell, I did the same thing. Thankfully he helped me fight Doc Ock but… We were too late… He had already killed Jay…”

His heart yearned to envelop her into his arms, to console her, to shield her from the somber memories of the past that still tormented her. 

“The two of us followed after him as he tried escaping from the roof.” She recounted. “I should have known that he had bombs planted on the lower floors. The remaining hostages got out just in time before they detonated, but David slipped as the floor began to collapse and fell... I— I jumped after him, tried to save him before he hit the ground but I wasn't fast enough... I relied too much on my webs and he... My webs didn't reach him in time...”

“I'm so sorry...” Three words that didn't do justice to the magnitude of what she had gone through. Not only did she lose her brother but her partner too, within minutes of each other. He couldn't even imagine what that was like. 

She gave a half shrug. “It's fine. I’ve had plenty of time to process it all.”

He still wished there was something he could do, something more than providing a sympathetic ear while holding her hand. 

“After that, shit hit the fan. The universe began crumbling, falling apart at the seams.” 

The hand in his began to slide against his palm, fingers coming to play with his digits. “I was able to make it out with the help of some other Spider-People who brought me to their HQ after they were able to capture Doc Ock. That was where I had the misfortune of meeting Miguel who runs everything.”

He watched the way her fingers danced along his with great fondness. “You really don't like the guy, huh?”

“That's a bit of an understatement. He's a stubborn hypocrite who expects everyone to fall in line, no questions asked. He's the byproduct of a wet blanket fornicating with a literal stick in the mud. If I had to choose between going on one of his 'missions' or being buried alive with a coffin filled with fire ants, I'd choose the latter. Japanese land snails are smarter than him!”

Jonathan laughed at her rant coupled with the distinct phrasing she used. “Okay dear, I get it. Hate is a more appropriate term.”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat as she stared at him, her hand ceasing its movements that he was beginning to grow used to. Her lenses crinkled and he could swear that he could feel the way her mouth was twisted in a smirk. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You called me 'dear', sweetie.” 

“Oh my god!” He spluttered while his body temperature rose several degrees. “You— I— It just came out! I'm sorry, I—”

It was her turn to giggle at the way he fumbled over his words as she intertwined their fingers together. “It's okay Jonathan. I liked it.”

His heart felt like it was about to soar out of his chest with how fast it was beating. 

“Duly noted.” He cleared his throat. “So after all of that, you came here?”

“Yep. I found a somewhat chill dimension where there wasn't a Spider-Person, moved into a modestly-sized penthouse, and surprisingly didn't destroy another universe in the process.”

The slight undertone of self-loathing was almost too meager for him to notice. Almost. 

Everything inside of him wanted to reach out to her and squash those feelings, cleanse her of all negativity while offering up hushed affirmations, trace hymns of vows unsaid onto every inch of her skin. The urge to allow her to consume him completely resurfaced again, a craving that felt almost second nature to him, a longing that surpassed all logic.

She may not have known it but in that moment, he knew that he was unconditionally hers, irrevocably under her spell. 

“So I'm curious about something.” Lily began, breaking him out of his reverie. “If you're trying to get money, why not find a job instead of robbing banks?”

"I can't exactly get a job with this whole situation." He gestured to himself, all paper white skin and undulating spots. "Believe it or not, people haven't really been too perceptive of my appearance… Besides you, that is."

"What about online jobs, like freelance programming?"

The thought had crossed his mind, however there was one glaring issue. 

"I would love to do something like that, but I have no computer."

She let out a hum as he stared at her, a puzzled expression clear on his face despite having no features. The familiar anxious feeling settled in his gut yet again as neither of them spoke — Lily deep in thought while Jonathan's nerves increased with each passing second. Finally she broke the silence, her mind made up.

"I wouldn't mind giving you my computer."

The spot on his face widened. "You would do that?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I've been meaning to replace the motherboard and processor in it since they're a touch outdated but it still runs well. I really don't mind having to rebuild a new PC either, especially since a graphics card I've had my eye on finally went on sale but it's not compatible with the current motherboard." 

She babbled on about computer components as he struggled to register her words, bewildered that she even offered, let alone thought about giving him her computer. Anyways, he couldn’t accept her offer even if he wanted to. What could he do with it? He didn't have a home, not since he was evicted from his apartment a couple of months after the accident, and it wasn’t like he could use it out on the streets where it was ripe for the taking. Maybe if it was a laptop but that wasn't the case.

"But enough about that." The hand still in his squeezed gently, coaxing him out of his thoughts. "How about I give you my number? That way we can work out the logistics tomorrow."

"I don't have a phone either." A subtle hint of shame found its way into his voice. “And thank you, but I... I wouldn’t be able to use it anywhere…”

She frowned at him before letting out a soft “Oh...”, seemingly understanding the  predicament that he was in. 

He shouldn't have said anything. Now she knew who he really was: a lowlife, a bum, a hopeless case that felt undeserving of any kindness. A mixture of worry and helplessness swirled in his chest, playing tag with despondent pleas that echoed endlessly in a sickening loop. 

He didn’t want her to see him differently.

"Alright, how good is your memory?" She tilted her head a bit in time with her inquiry, not at all deterred by the insecurities plaguing the man beside her.

He scratched the back of his neck, unsure as to why she was asking. "Uh, I'd say it's pretty good." 

"Great! I live in Greenwich Village off of Washington and…" She rattled off her address, apartment number and all. 

Jonathan was perplexed. Here was this beautiful woman giving him her address, as if she didn't care he was homeless. As if he wasn’t anything less than human. As if she saw him for who he truly was. 

"Why are you giving me your address?" He interrupted her as she talked about her neighborhood and the cafe she liked to frequent on Hudson Street.

"I want to help you out." Lily stated simply, providing no further reasoning.

He was baffled at the intense earnestness in her tone. "You hardly know anything about me though."

"True, but I'd love to know more."

"And what makes you think I won't go to the news with this info?" He probed rather boldly. 

Her gaze bore into him, the intensity of it almost palpable. "Will you?"

She managed to see right through his meager bluff, the weak foundation it was created on already a crumbled heap before them. 

He rubbed his feet together abashedly. "Well… No…"

“Look.” She began. "When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”

There was a pause as Jonathan combed through his memory, remembering the dirty, grubby mattress he found in an alleyway before coming to this dimension. The meager comfort it provided was short-lived since the fourth night he slept on it, his slumber was interrupted by a homeless woman shouting at him to get off her property. Her screaming only got louder once she had noticed his white skin and lack of facial features. He tried his best to explain his situation and calm her down, but he ended up absconding through a portal once she started hitting him with one of her overstuffed grocery bags.

He squashed that memory down and answered her, albeit reluctantly. “Four, maybe five weeks?”

“I don’t have a spare bed but I’m sure my couch is a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the streets.” 

For some strange reason, he almost felt disappointed that she was offering her couch and not her bed. He knew it was an absurd presumption but he would give anything to lay beside her, to hold her close as they slept peacefully, their legs tangled up in the sheets. 

Maybe he was reading everything wrong. All the pet names and flirtatious remarks… 

“Although my bed is much more comfortable, warmer too.” She knocked her knee against his in time with the wink she sent his way. 

Nevermind.

“In all seriousness though, I’m not going to force you if you don’t want my help. However if you do decide to drop by, my door is always open to you Jonathan.” The sincerity in her voice made him want to break down. “Whatever you need: money, food, a computer, a place to stay. I’ll help you out the best I can for as long as you’ll let me.”

Neither one of them spoke as she turned to look up at the night sky. His stare stayed fixed on her for a few seconds until he too looked up. Amidst the darkened sea he could have sworn he could make out a glowing tail of space rock entering the atmosphere, burning up in the heat before it reached the ground.

He still made a wish.

They stayed that way for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. 

Sirens wailed in the distance, breaking through the serenity of the moment. With a sigh she squeezed his hand one last time before slowly sliding her fingers away. 

“I suppose I should do some more patrolling before calling it a night.” She stood up and brushed off any dirt that may have accumulated from her backside. He stopped himself from outright ogling and got to his feet as well, only allowing himself a peek which rewarded him with the sight of her asscheeks jiggling somewhat under her movements. 

Once she was satisfied with the lack of dirt, she reached out and took hold of his wrist, rubbing her thumb along the inside where his heartbeat could be felt, sending goosebumps up his arm. He tried his best to keep his erratic heart under control but he could tell his efforts were in vain since he heard it ring dully in his skull.

“No need to give me an answer right now, just think about it. Okay?” 

He nodded. “Okay.”

She let go of his wrist and shot out a web towards the adjacent building. “Until next time, sweetheart.”

Her feet dropped off the edge of the roof and she swung through the air, leaving him to wave after her retreating form. 

“Next time...” He echoed out loud to the now desolate rooftop. 

Lily… She really was something else.

When she first offered to help him, he was ready to decline, having already resigned himself to living on the streets for an undetermined amount of time. Of course he could easily just go to a different dimension and try robbing banks all over again, but he didn’t want to do that. He made a promise to her, one he had no intention of breaking. He wanted to stay here, where she was. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to stay in this universe just as much as he did.

Jonathan knew he would find himself at her doorstep soon, he just needed to build up the courage to do so. 

He opened up a portal and walked through, bringing himself back down to the ground below, in the alleyway; the same alleyway that Spider Lily caught him in a week ago. The sound of her laughter played in his mind, accompanied by the sincerity in her gaze and the softness in her voice as she spoke his name. 

It was almost as if he could hear her calling out his name now.

Wait…

“Jonathan!”

He whipped his head around and the spot on his face widened in shock as she came into view, twirling in the air with a grace that seemed effortless to her. Lily came to a halt before descending slowly, the web tethered to the bottom of the fire escape keeping her aloft. Finally she stopped once her face was level with his own, hanging upside down only a couple of inches away.

“Hi.” He said before he could stop himself, doing his best to not leer lasciviously at the way gravity pulled at her breasts. 

She tilted her head. “I want to try something.”

His breath caught in his throat as she reached for the edge of her mask, pulling it down slowly. He couldn’t do anything but take in the fairness of her skin, the plumpness of her lips, and the beginning of what appeared to be a decent amount of freckles on her nose and lower cheeks which disappeared under the rest of her mask. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” She spoke so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. 

He could hardly believe that this was happening. She could have chosen anyone, yet here she was asking to kiss him of all people. It felt as though his nerves were on fire and she hadn’t even touched him. 

And he desperately wanted to feel her lips…

“Please.” He whispered breathlessly.

Without any hesitation she leaned in, kissing him where his lips would be. 

He was certain he had died and gone to heaven. 

The gentle press of her lips carried a sense of longing that made his knees weak. His skin buzzed as sparks danced through every cell of his body, igniting his very core. He felt like he was melting, like the spots that littered his calescent skin had become a liquid and were dripping onto the concrete where the puddle of dark matter threatened to swallow him whole.

All too soon she was pulling away, a small smile on her lips.

“Wow…” He murmured in astonishment.

“Yeah… I think you quite literally took my breath away.” 

Her words emboldened him. The fact that even though he was unable to properly reciprocate the kiss, he was still able to elicit that kind of reaction from her, and it caused his heart to swell with pride. 

"And that's without a mouth. Once I'm back to normal, you won't be able to breathe properly ever again.”

The sight of her smile squashed down any panic he may have felt over what he just said. Her singsong laughter held him hostage and he could do nothing but surrender into its sweet refrain.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She bit her lower lip in a sensual way that sent a shiver up his spine. 

Her hand came to pull her mask back up, securing it in place before reaching out to cup his cheek. “I hope to see you soon…”

“You will.” He found himself saying as he watched her fling out another web and weave through the air, disappearing into the night once more. 

Recalling the wish he made on the shooting star, Jonathan swore that nothing would prevent him from seeking her out soon.

[coolcattime]

On one hand, I don’t need to write any more AUs, but on the other hand… Mianite Cursed Pirate Crew AU. The basic concept of this AU is based on a TTRPG called Rapscallions which I haven’t played but I love the concept of.

Basic setup is just that the cast are all members of a pirate crew and each one is cursed in some way.

The Crew: Capsize, Tom, Jordan, Redbeard, and Sonja

Capsize is the captain of the crew, though she’s rarely seen off her ship making her co-captain more known to the general public. Once during a particularly bad attack, she called out to the sea goddess to save everyone’s lives. Her calls worked, Capsize became one with the sea, being able to turn the ocean itself against their enemies. However this connection came with a price, her being forbidden from stepping foot on land. Notably she will always insist that she is forbidden, not unable, to step foot on land. She has never said exactly what’ll happen if she goes against this rule, just that the goddess wants to keep her close and she isn’t going to go against a goddess.

Tom is Capsize’s co-captain, a position which everyone else on the ship is definitely very happy about. He got himself cursed when dealing the final blow to a leviathan, an encounter that technically killed him. In his dying moments he swallowed leviathan blood, which revived him with a couple of consequences. Notably, he looks slightly off with no light in his eyes and an odd green tint to his skin. However, he also gained powers, though he’s still figuring out exactly how to use them, with one of the few he’s sure of is his new found ability to communicate with the giant sea beasts that once caused his death. 

Jordan would very much insist that he isn’t cursed, seeing that his actual abilities aren’t the things giving him trouble. However the others note that being touched by the gods in a way that gives him no special powers, but has inspired multiple groups to try and track him to to fulfil his apparent “terrible destiny” counts as a curse as they’re fighting to stop him from getting kidnapped or captured seemingly every other week. Despite his insistence that he isn’t cursed, he always gets quiet when asked when his apparent destiny is, not wanting to reveal what he is apparently destined for, especially not when he’s finally figured out who “the rival” and “the love interest” described in the terrible tale are supposed to be.

Redbeard, much like Tom, got cursed during a fight, but not one that killed him. During a raid on a cargo ship, a strange creature was unleashed on them, managing to claw and bite him before they took it down. This very quickly proved to have consequences as the body of the creature is identified as a lycanthrope and they realise what Redbeard being bitten by it means. They manage full moons as best as they can, making use of the brig and any magical locks they can get ahold of. They haven’t had any incidents thus far, but Redbeard still fears what will happen if he ever gets loose.

Sonja was the only to get cursed before joining the crew and she is the newest member of said crew. She was a researcher of many different kinds of magic and legends, though she tried to keep her activities on the down low due to attitudes of the town guard towards magically powerful people. However, one night while lost in her studies, she discovered  a creature claiming to be a djinni locked within one of the books she was studying. Not quite understanding what she was dealing with, she made a wish releasing the creature and binding herself to her journal. Now she has powers, the ability to gain knowledge just from writing questions in her journal as well as the odd power to bend luck, but she also cannot roam far from her journal and if anyone but her gets ahold of it, she has no choice but to do as they say.

She found the crew after writing in her question asking for somewhere safe to flee, knowing that if anyone in the town caught wind of what had happened she’d never have freedom again. They took her in without question (they can’t exactly turn down more hands on deck), though her sudden departure was noticed by a friend, who isn’t sure what to make of the news that she apparently was taken by a pirate crew.

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Vapors 61

"Um… Not sure what I should do with these." Aiko bit her lip, looking at the oversized clothes she had shucked and set on top of the counter before her shower the night before. It would probably be polite to wash them before she returned them, right? It would also be a shame to return them from her laundry, because they still carried Kakashi's scent as they were, but they were also a bit sandy and wrinkled. Kakashi would probably launder them again right away because he didn't use the same detergent, but it couldn't be helped.

For form's sake, at least, she dumped them in the washer and liberally poured on some of the syrupy green washing fluid (and took a deep breath of the artificial but still yummy apple scent) before clanging the lid shut and moving to working on cleaning the sandy bits out of her own boots with a grimace. Hers were the only shoes in the genkan- Naruto and Karin had already left for their morning conditioning, and Hinata was out for a run with Kiba and Akamaru.

She had another two days of restricted activity before she could return to training, and Aiko already had an idea as to how she would spend at least some of the time. Learning how to set intangible seals and attach them to whatever she wanted had been a lucky break, but it also made her think of the potential problems that could arise from having so many active seals loose at once. Minato had utilized hundreds of them at a time—it was mind-boggling when she really thought about it. It also made it easy to understand just how other people had managed to get a hold of copies. No one had ever successfully deconstructed one and he'd blown through any traps set for him, but she didn't pretend to think she was immortal. There was always someone bigger and badder than you, even if you were as powerful as Minato had been.

Granted, his seals had dissolved on his death, so at least no one had been able to reverse engineer them. That had been a good bit of forethought. Hiraishin was only rare because it was jealously guarded. Jiraiya scoffed at the idea because he was a bit of an intellectual elitist, but she was sure that someone out there would be just as capable as she was of patching together even an inferior version with access to a finished copy.

Aiko would rather trap hers than let that happen. Hiraishin was nearly unbeatable… when no one else had it. She didn't need competition, thank you very much. Fuck fair play.

'And thank you Danzo-sama, for giving me the concept for this combination seal,' she silently mocked while rummaging through her notes on his silencing seal. He had combined a locking mechanism with paralysis. That wasn't exactly what she needed for her purposes, but it did make her think about how she could combine a locking mechanism with a destructive element that she could activate from a distance.

It was an undoubtedly nasty concept. If she felt anyone twanging at the structure of a seal and attempting to pick the lock, she could reach out and sever the connection so that it literally blew up in their faces. She had no idea exactly what it would do if it were attached directly to a person- would they blow up entirely, or would they just blink and suddenly be missing a patch of skin?

'Somehow, the thought is more amusing than anything else. I could probably vary the explosion by how violently I trigger it. I should test that out.'

Maybe it was just a little bit insanely paranoid, but no one had ever died from being too careful. At least, a statistically significant percentage of people didn't die from being too careful. There'd probably been some freak accident in Konoha's history that killed the twitchiest bastard around, but that was beside the point.

It was pitifully easy to draw up her additions after having mulled over them on the trip back (getting interrupted by the washer's beep mid-process) and attach them to a Hiraishin seal. She set it aside on her bedside table to show Jiraiya later, straining to reach from her cross-legged position against the wall at the head of her bed. She gave a stretch when she was done before scooting forward just a bit and extending her legs, digging her toes into the soft fabric of her comforter.

Her head lightly rested against the cool wall, pushing her hair out to tumble over her shoulders while she considered the implications of what she had just done.

'You know, this could be considered a way of perfecting a tracking specialty. Now that I can set a seal with a chakra pulse, I only have to be able to touch someone anywhere once to find them again. If I use the trapped one, I don't even have to find them again unless to confirm the kill.'

Aiko was sure that this episode of tampering wouldn't affect anything about the Hiraishin itself, but it couldn't hurt to have an expert opinion when Jiraiya was apparently willing to help her out. She'd have to hurry on that, though, before he left town. It would be best to switch out all her old seals for new ones as soon as possible and destroy the less efficient copies. Leaving prototypes lying around would be just idiotic. Well. Maybe she'd leave Kakashi and Yamato with untrapped seals. It wouldn't really be necessary in those cases. They were both trustworthy and not about to play 'rescue me Daphne' like poor Naruto might if Akatsuki got their way. She'd both give him a trapped seal on a kunai and a regular one as an invisible tattoo.

"You know, I thought Karin was exaggerating when she said you almost never leave the house for anything but work or training." Naruto frowned at her from the doorway. "That's so boring, Aiko. There's tons of stuff to do in Konoha that I couldn't do while I was away." He hopped onto her bed in a crouch, sending her bouncing up unwillingly, and he wiggled into her personal space. "Ino-chan's getting a group together to go out to the lake. I'll go if you do."

'He's too good at the puppy eyes.'

Aiko flinched back, torn between wanting to make Naruto happy and not wanting to commit to a day around a large group of people. Once she was there, she couldn't escape without looking like a rude lunatic. "That's not fair," she muttered, giving him an irritable shove that sent Naruto dramatically flopping onto his side on the bed.

"I'm wounded," he wailed, snatching the unguarded pillow and curling up like a pill bug, face squooshed miserably into the blue fabric. "If you loved me, you'd go to the lake, and get a tan, and build a sand castle, and we can have a water fight, and there'll be a picnic, and-"

Aiko rolled her eyes and tugged out the pillow from behind her back to whap him with. She wasn't fast enough- he wrestled it away from her lightning-fast and added it to his horde, lifting his face just enough to give her a cheeky grin before sticking his nose back into the fabric.

"Alright, alright, I'll go."

He wasn't going to leave her alone about it anyways.

"Cool!" Naruto sat up like a meercat, grinning toothily. "I knew you'd agree. S'ats why Ino is waiting in the front room. She says you don't own a swimming suit?"

"I do own a…" She trailed off. "Huh. Why does Ino know more about my wardrobe than I do?"

Her brother shrugged, tugging on her arm and nearly sending her to the floor before she managed to unhook her legs and get her feet on the floor. He didn't even seem to notice, steam-rolling towards her door. "She knows everything, I guess?"

"Not everything, I need to take out a load of laundry before I go or it'll wrinkle." She raised her voice to be heard and pulled her arm out of Naruto's grip. "It'll be just a minute, Ino!"

"Kay!" came the answering shout from where Ino was probably raiding the cupboards for cookies. They were the disappointing boxed kind, but no one had been baking lately.

She'd washed Kakashi's clothes alone, so it only took a moment to fold them and stick them in her top drawer to deal with later and keep them safe from Smaug, who had finally become enough of a calamity to deserve the name.

Aiko tried very hard not to grimace and remembered the mental note she'd made while being lugged back to Konoha- she was going to pack so many extra changes of underwear and hide them in a seal that it wasn't funny. Hers had been shredded by explosive clay beyond all hope of recovery along with those poor shorts. It was probably unimportant at the time compared to what had happened to her still-sore hip and leg, but it had weighed a lot more heavily on her mind on that awful trip home.

Going commando was one thing. Going commando in someone else's pants? She couldn't help but cringe as she made her way to the front of the house. Wasn't being a ninja supposed to be glamorous? Ugh. The things she put up with for this stupid job. If that realization had occurred to Kakashi, he hadn't given any indication. Maybe he was just going to politely burn the pants when she returned them.

She'd already thrown away the bra she'd been wearing, a wasted expense she bitterly regretted. But she just couldn't wear it again now that the matching panties were gone. It would sit in her drawer and bother her every time she saw it.

"You have a bit of chocolate on your lip," Naruto helpfully pointed out.

Ino fluttered her eyelashes in what Aiko was sure was fake surprise. She gave her friend a dirty look from behind Naruto's broad shoulder that Ino completely ignored. "Oh. I don't feel it. Could you help me get it off?"

'Desperate, desperate, I am really desperate,' Aiko silently mocked. 'God Ino, talk about subtle.'

He shrugged and stepped forward to swipe delicately at her lower lip with a finger. He promptly proceeded to stick it in his mouth to lick the sweet off with a grin. "Kay." Ino determinedly maintained eye contact the whole time, mouth slightly parted. Of course, it was subtle enough for Naruto, so the strategy may have been well-chosen. She tricked him into touching her and got him to associate her with candy. But still…

'Ugh, gross.'

It was one thing to think her otouto was adorable. It was something completely different to have to watch Ino try so hard to flirt with him.

"Okay, time to go." She pushed past them and pulled on her newly cleaned open toe boots. They'd be weird with beach wear, but she couldn't force up the effort to care.

"I'll see you guys there, okay?" Naruto called over his shoulder. "I already have my trunks. I'll just meet up with Chouji and help him get the food over."

"Sounds good!" Ino chirped back.

Aiko waited until they were outside to give her friend a little shove. "Seriously, you pervert? Could you wait to molest my brother with your eyes until I'm not in the room? I'm not entirely sure what that was, but I feel dirty now." The shudder she gave wasn't entirely unfeigned.

Ino made a rude sound in return. "Whatever. I was doing no such thing."

That blatant lie aside, the two made a trip to the downtown area where Aiko grabbed literally the first swimsuit she saw- one of the ones that had been on display in the window.

"Holy cow," Ino whimpered. "My mom would kill me if I wore that."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically and shook the green slips of fabric at her friend. "Seriously? It's just a bikini."

Ino gave a nervous laugh. "Are you kidding? I have a one-piece with an attached skirt." She paused. "That reminds me, we're supposed to get the beach towels, sunscreen, and tanning lotion."

Aiko gave her friend a dirty look. "And I assume I'm to pay for all of this?"

"It's not like you can't afford it," Ino said practically. "Oh, by the way. I just got the first edition copy of that first book in the mail. I opened an account for you and a box at the post office instead of sending anything to your house. I can give you the key if you stop by my house on the way home." Then she stuck her tongue out at Aiko, barely managing to suck it back between her teeth before the redhead could make a grab for it. "And no, I'm not a moocher. I brought my wallet too."

"I don't really mind," she admitted. "Just keep your allowance. How many people are we expecting?"

"Ah…" Ino put a finger to her chin. "I think ten total. You and Karin, plus the three groups who graduated in my class."

"That's not so bad," Aiko muttered, carelessly pushing open the door to another boutique and ignoring the jingling bells above head. "Wait, how the hell did anyone get Sasuke to agree to this?"

"Who knows," Ino snorted. "Naruto did it. Maybe they made it into some sort of competition. I don't understand boys. By the way… You really shouldn't have made that joke about them. Temari believed it."

Confused, Aiko turned to look at her friend. "What are you talking about?"

"Temari believes they're a couple." It would have seemed serious if it hadn't been for the smile tugging on Ino's lips. "While she thinks it's totally hot, she's moved on to trying to flirt with some other hunk, I'm sure."

"And you think that's hilarious," Aiko deadpanned before grabbing a pile of oversized beach towels and counting off. "One, two, three…"

"It is," Ino casually interrupted, tugging on another pile. "Don't get those, these are much nicer. Is there a reason you're only grabbing green ones?"

"I don't want to have a ton of mismatched towels," she frowned, neatly piling the less luxurious fabrics back up on the shelf in favor of the ones Ino had pointed out. "Wouldn't that drive you nuts?"

Ino snorted. "God, you're so weird." She made an affectionate kissy face at her friend. "I say that with love."

"You say that because you're eying that nail polish," Aiko shot back. "What's so interesting about it?"

"Kay, you caught me." The little silver charms on Ino's wrist chimed when she reached to pull out a little bottle of slate gray polish. "It's those really cool scented polishes."

Aiko stopped entirely to give her friend a condescending look. "Aren't those for kids?"

"No, you absolute plebian," Ino snarked. "Not the temporary gel things. These are perfumed and they smell when they're dry, not wet." She gave a disappointed frown. "They're so expensive, though."

She took a moment to roll her eyes. Ino was so damn cheap. "Just grab one of every color that you like and we'll try them all out. Maybe one of them will smell good enough to distract me from that nasty coconut suntan lotion Karin smothers herself in."

Ino whapped her with a towel. "She uses the brand I recommended!"

"Then I'll need even more scented polish to distract me from your mutual stench."

The affronted look she received in return for that jibe was pretty glorious.

Ino was already wearing her suit under her skirt and a sleeveless shirt, so Aiko made a hasty wardrobe change in the restroom while Ino went through the check out with her wallet. Ino gave a mocking wolf-whistle as soon as she saw her, puffing her lips out. "Look at you and your naked self!"

She just rolled her eyes at her friend. "Whatever. They wouldn't sell this if it wasn't decent." Still, she pulled a towel out of one of the bags and tied it around her hips. Even with their errands, they weren't the last of the group to meet at the gates. Almost everyone was waiting- Hinata, Karin, Sasuke, Kiba, and Shino had all beat Naruto and Ino's boys out.

Sasuke and Kiba, neither of whom were particularly close to Ino, seemed oddly pleased to see them. Maybe they'd been waiting for a while and thought the girls would be dragging the slackers behind. Ino did usually perform that function, but unfortunately not today. As sad as it was, Naruto was the most punctual out of the three still missing and would probably be the one to urge Chouji and Shikamaru along.

They could be waiting a while. He didn't have much of a sense for urgency and timing.

Ino immediately tossed their bags at a surprised-looking Shino and pulled their papers for approval to leave the village out of her pocket to go talk to the gate guards. Aiko went with her and listened idly. She'd never bothered to get a pass like this before, but it wasn't an unfamiliar concept. They were only going about a mile and a half out of the village, and day trips like this were often approved. They would have to return before the gate guards were switched out for ANBU at night, but other than that their only possible restriction was being ready to return to duty if a messenger was sent for any of them. Chouji and Naruto wandered up with Shikamaru plodding along sullenly behind them, each laden with what looked like a terrifying amount of food. Naruto was cheerily lugging a small cooler, not even having the decency to look strained under the weight of a plastic tub filled with ice and liquids.

Aiko let herself meander to the back of the group as they left, a little more comfortable at a distance. Of course, this group was full of antisocial people like herself, so she ruefully nodded at Shino when he pulled the same trick. At least he didn't try to talk.

The group took the entire walk at a civilian pace and set up on the southern shore about twenty minutes after they'd left. It… wasn't bad. Hinata was the only other girl not slathering herself in the nasty suntan lotion, so they took turns helping each other with sunscreen and immediately laid down to take sun naps while their rowdier peers took the plunge at a run, screaming and splashing each other. Naruto and Sasuke seemed to be very seriously involved in a competition to see who could use jutsu to slap the other with an enormous wave of water. Sasuke won by summoning a surprised looking slug that plopped down and soaked even Ino where she was examining shells in the shallows. Shino plopped down about five feet away from Hinata and immediately pulled out a book.

When she woke up from her nap, drowsy and warm, the first thing Aiko noticed was that the group had moved on to playing in the sand. Kiba was currently being buried in sand. Of course, he was fighting it, which was probably why Sasuke was sitting on his legs and Naruto was using water clones to hold him down and further soak him every time he struggled too violently. Aiko sat up and rolled her eyes fondly, smacking dry lips. Those two were such a nightmare.

"Want a drink?"

At her nod, Chouji tossed her an unopened bottle of grape juice. "Thanks." She uncapped it (grimacing at the scrape of the textured cap against her palm) and took a long pull. "S'good." Hinata blearily sat up, wiping at an eye with her hand and gave a soulful look in the direction of the cooler. Chouji snorted and propped it back open. "Have a preference?"

Hinata had apparently heard of the scented polishes before and was familiar enough to have a preference. She took the soft pink one (scented like candy), so Aiko picked one at random by color (red) and painted her own claws. She only checked the scent when it was dry and was pleasantly surprised by the tea rose scent.

"Better than I expected," she admitted easily to an insufferably smug Ino with grey floral scented nails. It retained the aroma all day, so she kept catching a whiff when she moved her hands around.

'I can't help but think that this would be an excellent aid for setting olfactory genjutsu,' she noted. It actually wasn't uncommon to use nail polish for a spot of color that snagged focus in a similar way for visual genjutsu, so her idea wasn't completely unique. If she had more experience with genjutsu, she might have tried it. As it was, she had easily picked up the visual one Jiraiya gave her, but that one only affected the one sense and she had no training in other types of genjutsu. Shame.

It was amazing that they could waste an entire day doing nothing of value, but it was dark before they had put the last touches on the city made of sand (and then destroyed them all in a mixed jutsu and mock-wrestling fight that reminded Aiko of nothing so much as Godzilla in Tokyo).

Papers stamped and ids checked, the group moved to separate at the gates. Ino made a violent grab for Aiko's arm when she meandered too closely to Naruto, Karin and Hinata.

"Ah, hold on, you're coming to my house remember?"

She had forgotten entirely, actually. By the way Ino rolled her eyes it was obvious, so Aiko didn't even bother lying, just tagged along obediently.

"Don't run in the house!"

Ino grumbled something incoherent at her mother and stopped her dramatic slide across the wooden floor on her slippers, crabbily padding to her bedroom. Aiko cringed imperceptibly at the doorway as she always did. There was just something so offensively disorganized about it. The walls were all painted different shades of purple and covered in mirrors, paper flowers, and a hundred bits of assorted jewelry and beauty products. Ino was like a magpie in human form- if it was pretty, she wanted it.

Despite the way it looked like hellish chaos to Aiko's somewhat minimalist eye, Ino easily located what she'd come for and passed it over. Aiko had to cringe at the cover. "That's not what I drew at all," she grumbled.

Ino gave an apologetic shrug. "They thought the illustrations were too odd, and they re-did them in a more palatable style. If you hate them, you can send back an argument or correction before they print the real edition for sale. But if you send something similar, they're just going to use their artist's stuff."

"Ugh, yuck." Aiko frowned at it. It was garish, with thick lines and overly complicated shading. My Neighbor Totoro just belonged with a subdued spring palette.

'Of course, I do know someone with a more traditional set of artistic sensibilities… Sai could sketch something that would come closer to suiting everyone. And it would provide me with an excuse to spend time with him. That'd please Tsunade…'

That decided, she felt a bit more cheerful. "I'm sorry I made you copy that one out," she apologized as they walked back down the hall. "I guess you were right when you said it wouldn't be a big deal to send off the original copy. You can just pick one off the shelf next time."

"Does that mean I'm your manager?" Ino teased, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, even sandy and disheveled as she was.

Aiko gave a huff of amusement. "Sure, I guess. What's your going rate?"

"Fifty percent of the profits," Ino joked, opening the front door politely.

"Okay."

"Wait, what?" Ino stared dumbly, mouth hanging open. She looked so baffled that Aiko had to stifle a laugh. The blonde scowled. "That's not funny, you jerk."

"I'm not joking. I would never have gotten around to it on my own. Either they won't make anything and so there's no point in being greedy, or there's enough of them to publish that there'll be plenty to go around." Aiko shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"Er." She fiddled nervously with her hair. "Okay, I guess?" Ino asked uncertainly. "I mean, thank you," she corrected.

"Actually, we should each take 45 %," Aiko amended. "So that we can pay an artist. I have someone in mind."

When she got home, Aiko was immediately distracted by the alarming realization that someone had actually managed to start the rice on fire. She tossed the book down and completely forgot about the errands she'd planned to run that night, so the borrowed clothes lay forgotten in her room even after she'd salvaged dinner and crawled under her covers.

The warmth of sunlight on her bare shoulders prodded Aiko awake. She blearily forced one eye open to glare at the stupid window and wish she had pulled the curtain shut before she had gone to bed. That brought the unusual realization that she'd slept an entire night.

"Weird," she muttered, before pulling her arms over her head and stretching out every muscle she could feel. Aiko smacked her lips and collapsed back into the covers for another few minutes. Drowsy as she was, it took a good half hour to pry her body out of bed. "I think someone turned up the gravityyy," she moaned to the ceiling. Resentfully, she pulled a peach sun-dress on over her head and stuffed her feet in the white cat-faced shoes Naruto had sent her so long ago.

Hey, she was off the clock. She didn't have to figure out real clothes.

Aiko turned a white knapsack completely over on her bed and let the assorted papers and little things like chapstick and-were those socks?- fall out. 'I'll take care of it later.' She slipped both copies of the Totoro book in along with her sealing notebook and pulled the bag over her shoulders.

Unsurprisingly, Jiraiya was easier to find than Sai. His distinctive back was hunched over in front of a very familiar fence. Granted, it was one she usually saw from the other side... She politely tapped his shoulder from behind and then backed up when he swiveled to turn and stand. He blinked confusedly for a moment, and then readjusted to look down. "Oh. It's you," he said flatly. "I don't come here to look at teenaged girls, you know."

She gave an apologetic smile. "I don't mean to distract you from your research for long. I just wanted you to look over a modification I wanted to add to that seal we were working on."

He heaved a put-upon sigh and held out one of his massive, meaty paws. "Hand it over, then."

Aiko flipped the notebook to the right page, smoothed the paper down, and let him tug it out of her grip. The older man kept a poker face as he looked over what was there, mind clearly preoccupied- and then he tilted his head down and gave her a dry look. "That's just mean, girlie."

His voice didn't actually sound disapproving, so she just shrugged. "I don't like the idea of letting anyone get an extended look at my seal," she demurred innocently.

The rude snort almost made her jump. "I don't think that's going to be a big problem. Still… I wouldn't bother with it, but this should work just fine. You're a paranoid little bastard, aren't you?"

"It has other uses," she weakly argued, feeling a flush steal over her cheeks. "Like-"

"Blowing people up?" At her sheepish look, Jiraiya ruffled her hair. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know. I can tell that this seal is weaponized. The only thing I'd have to say is that you should watch the thickness of this line here," he indicated. "Otherwise, this is solid work."

The notebook nearly hit her in the nose when he tossed it back at her. She caught it just in time, cringing at the way the pages rustled and bent.

"Now go away or be quiet. I have research to do." Jiraiya blushed, a silly grin flooding across his features and wrinkling lines all the way up to his eyes. "Heh heh heh…"

Aiko chose both- she quietly wandered away, hands fiddling with the straps at her shoulders and looking at the dirt she was kicking up.

'How on earth am I going to find Sai? What does he even do, besides missions? He probably doesn't spent a lot of time outside wherever he lives or training.'

Well. The first step would be to ascertain whether or not he was working, wouldn't it? It would be so wasteful to spend all day checking unlikely locations if he was out of the village.

'This would be easier if I could go talk to Tsunade herself,' Aiko pouted. Still… she did know an intermediary.

It was probably a good thing that it was Sunday, then. Now that she finally had a destination in mind, Aiko cut across the outskirts of town to a place she'd never actually ventured inside. At the little red gate that partitioned off the Uchiha district, she paused uncomfortably for a minute. It didn't seem right to just walk in. But Sasuke wouldn't mind, would he?

'Plus I don't even know where his house is.'

She face-palmed.

'It'll be the one in the best state of repair, probably. Duh, the other houses have been unoccupied for a decade.'

Walking through the district didn't help her find any obvious candidates. Sasuke either worked his ass off with solid clones to keep the place neat or paid a fortune in D-class missions. The grass was neatly kept, not a roof-tile out of place on a single traditionally styled home, and the stone-paved paths were in immaculate condition and so clean that she almost considered taking off her shoes.

"Oh my god, these gardens must cost a fortune to maintain," she mumbled, kneeling to peer into a reflecting pool. An orange koi liberally splotched with black mouthed at her hand on the other side of the glass-clear water, sending little ripples across the surface.

"That's a rather rude comment to make," Sasuke pointed out, coming to stand by her side.

Aiko flushed. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry, I was just thinking aloud."

"You do that sometimes." She stood, brushing lightly against his side. Just because she could, she tilted her head to lean against his shoulder.

"Eh. I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

She could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "You are the worst guest. You're supposed to let me offer tea and glare at each other over it for half an hour while we silently decide how best to outmaneuver the other before you even hint at a weakness like that. How am I supposed to exploit it and tear at your soft rhetorical underbelly with so little time to plan?"

Aiko tilted her head slightly to give him a skeptical look, so close she could see the little irregularities in his dark eyes that showed differentiation between the actual black pupils and the surrounding coloration. "You've been spending too much time with Tsunade."

"I learned that from my mother, actually," he added dryly.

Awkward.

"Oh." Mildly chastened, she dropped her head to nose into his shoulder instead of replying. He squirmed away.

"Your nose is cold."

It was amazing just how much disapproval that boy could put into such an inane statement.

Aiko rolled her eyes and retreated. "I know, I was pirating your body heat. Anyway…" She gave him a wary look. "Don't act like I'm crazy, but I need to get a hold of Sai."

Sasuke maintained a poker face, but 'what the hell are you thinking' couldn't have been more plainly expressed if he'd said it aloud.

Helplessly, she shrugged. "It's a long story."

The sigh that followed was impressively grumpy for a voiceless exhalation. "I'll find out where you can meet him and get back to you on that tomorrow."

Of course, as it turned out he was wrong. He may well have found out how she could contact Sai, but it didn't do her any good because she had new orders the hour after her medical restriction expired.

'I almost wish I'd spent longer on restricted duty,' Aiko sighed lightly so as not to heat up her mask more than she had to.

The day after she was cleared for full duty, she had been ordered to report for a rotation in Konoha's prison facility. It was depressing, frankly. For once she was actually uninterested in learning more about her job. The minutia of policies for securing and containment procedures were mind numbingly dull whenever they weren't horrifying. She had been forced to bring poor Mitsuo in to help sniff incoming and departing staff for contraband. It was a surprising level of paranoia—not only were prisoners examined daily, but every member of staff was searched every day physically and by whatever methods the available squad was capable of. Aiko had the unfortunate distinction of being the only member of her team with a specialized technique or ability that could be useful in that capacity.

"Sorry, sorry," she soothed her ninken as soon as they were alone, dropping to her knees to wrap her arms around his thick neck. "Poor love, I bet it smells awful in here."

Mitsuo gave a sad whuff and a soft, low bark that she recognized as confirmation.

He padded silently along her side, returning to her team. She'd been called away to do screening, but they were normally posted along cell block intervals to maintain order, especially during times prisoners were moved.

She'd never known Konoha kept so many prisoners. Traitors, spies, dissidents, and foreign prisoners (some of whom who had been long forgotten by their countries of origin) all uneasily broke bread together in an underground facility.

The prison was a legacy of Konoha's half-assed humanist ideology: they didn't often execute prisoners. This wasn't entirely out of kindness. Prisoners could find use years down the line, like be wrung for more information, provide learning dummies for medic nin, or possibly even be traded back to their countries of origin. It cost Konoha almost nothing to maintain the facilities and it was no hardship to feed them in the land of eternal summer.

Regardless of whatever practical value keeping prisoners had, the partial motivation to keep their own hands clean by not just killing them like everyone else seemed to appeared self-serving and unethical to her. What kindness was it really, to keep war prisoners from thirty years ago interred? There were white-haired shinobi in the prison. If they were never going to free them, it seemed crueler to keep them around and let them suffer than it would be to just end it as painlessly as possible.

That was the final containment procedure anyway- as Fish had explained, in case of a break-in or break-out, all potentially dangerous prisoners were to be eliminated. It was a nice euphemism that meant they would be going down the halls and slaughtering prisoners cowering at the back of their cells, many of whom had not held a weapon in over half their lives.

"So much better than a pill or a knife to the spinal column," Aiko muttered with all the contempt she could muster.

But she wasn't being paid to think. She was being paid to stand around and hopefully convince prisoners not to make an attempt by reminding them what would happen if they did.

It was a pretty miserable experience, made all the more so because she couldn't leave. Part of the requirement of this assignment was staying in the facility for the duration. They were on-call 24/7, which meant that she had the dubious pleasure of sleeping in her ANBU gear in a room with her team and only changing in the bathroom alone when she had her twenty minute liberty. Her inconsiderate team didn't always bother with that. The first time she'd walked in to see Donkey with his pants around his ankles and a clean pair in his hands, she'd turned right back around. Unfortunately, she'd seen a lot more skinny man legs and muscled torsos over the shift that she would have liked. ...And also knew more about how dismal they were at changing their underpants. It's not supposed to be optional, people. Pack better.

As odd as it seemed to her, the assignment lasted the apparently arbitrary period of 23 days. When it was over, she reluctantly struggled back home only to find Naruto was pouty about being abandoned without so much as a word.

Aiko genuinely didn't understand what he was upset about. He had to understand that she couldn't talk about her work. All of her peers had been given a chance to see her ANBU tattoos at the lake- did he not know what they represented?

'Actually, that wouldn't surprise me,' she realized dully. Naruto was a bit clueless, and no one had commented.

It would have been in very bad form to do so, if any of them had recognized the symbols. Most of their age group were clan-affiliated and would know well enough to keep their mouths shut.

ANBU wouldn't tattoo their members if mere membership was actually restricted information. No one would be stupid enough to choose such a policy.

'Except the Dark Lord,' she mentally excused. 'Voldemort would so totally do that.'

But Konoha didn't have anyone with cajones as large and illogical as the Dark Lord's, so the real restricted information was the actual content of ANBU training and work. She settled on a rhetorical strategy and plan for mitigating the problem in future.

"I'm doing work for Tsunade that I can't talk about," she'd excused. It wasn't really a lie, after all. Just not the whole truth. Naruto made an 'ohhhh' face of comprehension. "Keep it quiet, please." Her brother easily agreed. "And…" Here she hesitated. "I think I'm going to move out into an apartment of my own so I'm not coming and going from a shared house without telling anyone what's going on."

If she wasn't sharing a house, she would hardly have to make explanations of her whereabouts and weariness. At some point, she was going to come home more than a little battered and didn't much fancy having to hide it from any inquisitive housemates she couldn't tell a damn thing about what was going on.

Aiko had considered making Naruto her confidant to a limited amount of her ANBU activities: if she did, she would hardly have to lie to him and sneak around. But the idea was unpalatable, despite the appeal of having Naruto on her side. It would mean exposing him to things he didn't need to know. ANBU was depressing, brutal, and difficult. Why make him worry?

"I'm not planning on abandoning you. I just… I want the freedom of my own place, you know? You got to leave Konoha for two years, and I've been mostly stuck here with two roommates I didn't pick." She shrugged wryly.

Naruto frowned slightly, examining her face. "Is that really what this is about?"

'Perceptive little bastard,' Aiko thought fondly.

"There's more, but not that I can talk about," she added honestly. Lying to Naruto never worked. He'd just make himself insufferable and sneak around until he thought he had it figured out. He wasn't often right, but she didn't want him poking around this time.

"You're so antisocial and weird," Naruto grumped, stepping in to bend his head to clunk his forehead against hers. "I guess this shouldn't be that surprising. You have to start coming to all the team practices you can, then."

"Uh, I guess I could, but I'm not really on your team assignment right now," she pointed out cautiously. Naruto and Sasuke had been placed back under Kakashi, but her reassignment looked to be pretty solid. They were probably stuck with Yamato.

"Doesn't matter, you're still one of our team. S'not like Kakashi'll care," he shrugged irreverently. Aiko lightly punched his chest, playfully instead of with any actual intent to turn the move into wrestling or sparring.

"Stop talking like that, you know it drives me nuts," she groused, reverting to English. He merely stuck his tongue out at her. With their faces so close together, that meant it barely missed her nose. "Ew, when did you get so gross?"

"I've always been gross, but you're stuck with me," he bantered easily, leaning his head back to butt gently against her forehead. He was rather like a cat, nudging for a petting session. "So, what day of the week is team dinner, when I am invited over for sleepovers, and what day will you be coming over here to make dinner? I'd offer to host you, but you don't want to eat my cooking."

Aiko snorted. "It's far past when you should have learned to cook. And what are you talking about, you've always helped me out. I'm not your damn maid. I guess I'll come over whatever Saturdays I'm free to bully you into proving to me you can cook the other six days of the week."

"It's settled, then." Naruto furrowed his brow. "How the hell are we going to get Kakashi to show up for team dinner?"

"Fuck if I know," she giggled. He did what he wanted.

[iieonarch]

Given a choice

// brief description of wounds but not detailed , not much CWs i feel , xiao and Hai Jun work on better communication , happy ending , it's nice , AlaThusa

“And what of it?” 

Seems like his usual cold and indifferent tone only brought out a warm sound out of Hai Jun’s lips, the veil of his straw hat swayed gently as the wind came to join his laughter through the sound of rustling leaves. 

“Can’t I put in some advice? Overworking isn’t a good thing,” Hai Jun then added, “take a break, isn’t Rex Lapis taking one too?” 

Xiao frowned at his words. The matter regarding Rex Lapis’ ‘death’ will remain a huge historical change in all of Liyue, though it won’t be as much of a change for the adepti. After all, a posh tall man who remained their leader now has the chance to look at his people from a closer view, if anything it was a breath of relief they let out. But for Xiao, he was still unused to this sort of freedom as Hai Jun liked to call it. 

“Dangerous events happens without a schedule,” Xiao merely said before he stood up from the rooftop of Wangshu Inn, Hai Jun remain seated but peered up to Xiao’s figure.

His spear manifested itself in a low hiss before leaving a wisp of dark green as it took shape, fitting itself into Xiao’s grip. 

“Wait,” Hai Jun quickly said getting ready to follow him, “where are you going?” 

Xiao moved his spear to his right hand, letting the weight settle at the blade that separated himself and Hai Jun. “Weren’t you going to learn how to cook from the chef?” 

“That’s true, but––” 

“Then do it.” 

What was left behind was a momentarily gust of wind, almost blowing Hai Jun’s straw hat off of his head if he didn’t hold onto its edge. Soon, it was calm once more. The lazy summer breeze resumed the slow tune within the leaves to comfort him of sudden rejection and Hai Jun hummed a low note, thinking of what he had said. 

Hai Jun is a regular visitor for both Wangshu Inn and its kitchen area. There are a few simple dishes that only required simple frying in oil, but others were something Hai Jun needed days of guidance before he could make them by memory. 

“You’re a great teacher,” Hai Jun grinned before he prepared for the ingredients Smiley Yanxiao briefly summarized. The compliment immediately sending the chef to a nervous chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too generous. Though, you’ve made Almond Tofu perfectly a few times before, I think you’re already great by yourself.” 

Hai Jun chuckled as he placed the ingredients on the table. “I think I struck a nerve today, I don’t want any mistakes.” 

Smiley Yanxiao could only let out an understanding hum as he nodded. The relationship between the Adeptus and Hai Jun will remain a mystery, but he supposed that Xiao will tolerate some; such as Almond Tofu, it made Smiley Yanxiao felt such an ego raise to know that the adeptus accepted it.  

Hai Jun is a quick learner but he works in silence. Numerous times before, Hai Jun addressed it himself that he would never be angry at Smiley Yanxiao over the smallest critiques or any at all, though the chef needs to get used to it. With every time he cleared his throat and let the sound echo through the kitchen over the crackling fire, Hai Jun let out a light chuckle before silence returned once more. 

A young master from afar, Smiley Yanxiao could recall the day Hai Jun booked the most expensive room and purposely paid extra. Although he no longer stayed in Wangshu Inn, he would make visits simply because he liked it. The life of a young master is truly carefree. 

“Something to chat about?” Hai Jun asked, wiping his hands with a cloth while Smiley Yanxiao was taking another part of the counter, preparing dinner for some guests. 

“If you’d like,” he answered, busy with his knives against a battle of some rather large onions. 

“I will take you as an example,” Hai Jun started, “since you worked here for a while, certainly one would be tired but if you enjoyed doing what you do––well in your case and someone tells you to take a break. Would that be offensive?” 

Smiley Yanxiao looked up from his chopping board. He pushed aside the chopped onions onto a separate container before taking another, positioning his knife carefully. His answer came together with the sound of the blade cutting through the onion. 

“I’d appreciate it knowing that someone is looking out for me. Since sometimes you’re too busy to even care about yourself.” 

Hai Jun nodded at his words carefully. The Almond Tofu sat on a plate beautifully, perfectly cut squares of softness adorned with toppings on top. He made two servings. 

“The tricky thing is, not everyone’s going to take it like I would,” Smiley Yanxiao continued after a while.  

“According to the person, then?” Hai Jun raised a brow at Smiley Yanxiao. 

“Yes, according to who they are,” Smiley Yanxiao answered. 

The kind of person Xiao is…

The thought made Hai Jun tap his folding fan against his lips; his smile only grew from his adoration for the Yaksha. The answer was quite clear for someone who brought forward gales powerful enough to command enemies to fly and fall to their deaths, a strength many wished they’d have. Surely, Xiao would cherish that sort of ability he cultivated years on. 

Hai Jun sighed. The platter of Almond Tofu servings under the coverage he borrowed sat next to him as he leaned back on the rooftop. The orange sky intermingled with the golden leaves above him, an abundance of shades of riches; treasure lies in every corner of the world in many forms. 

While the sun slowly descends, Hai Jun now lacked the excitement of staring into the distant view. He didn’t have to fret over that little issue, not when there was a stir in his head; like the sudden rumble of a cliff as a tsunami strike. An ocean’s roar as it devoured the strongest of rocks, splitting the earth with the force of an angry noble amidst the crowd. Only Hai Jun could hear the unfiltered sound of his name through the destruction that for a second, disconnected himself from reality. 

It took merely a second for the Adeptus to leave the roof of Wangshu Inn and towards the place where his name was called. For there are simply a few, who knew of his true name after all. 

+++ 

Between the voices of deities who died at his lance or the real world surrounding him, there wasn’t enough empty gap for him to regret on the words of a certain Adeptus he left behind on Wangshu Inn. The hilichurls that moved into the area came in larger numbers, determined to make the region as their own not caring of the villagers they’ve made scurrying away. 

Their growls intermingled with the cries of frustration in Xiao’s head, but his lance swung around recklessly. At least his strength had yet to crumble. 

But an illusion remained an illusion, there is nothing for his spear to hit and the Lawachurl dodged swiftly before sending Xiao yards away, tumbling into their tents. 

A sharp ring went through his head, like a huge object that shattered the shadows of the dead that hurdled around him. His visions are blurry, likely because of the blood that ran down his face; iron seeping through his gasping lips. When he shakily tightened his fist, his nails dug into his palms instead. 

He’s tired. 

But his chest burned from his inability to pick himself up beneath the destroyed tent. He’s done the same thing for years, yet the times he couldn’t find his weapon in his hand was more frustrating than the everlasting devotion death had on him. 

At least he could finally recall that Adeptus who told him to rest. 

Hai Jun. Well, perhaps he would rest for a moment. 

The Lawachurl’s hands rose over its head, calculating for the right momentum to strike the earth only for it to be sent flying with a force of water stronger than its own calculations. The surrounding hilichurls retreated in panic, though some stayed in caution. 

The smaller hilichurls weren’t much work. His fan waved for another stream of water, hurling it towards them. He scanned the area quickly while the hilicurls struggled inside of the water he created, until they ceased to move. 

Xiao’s battered figure laid among a ruin of their tent and his weapon not too far from him. Though the grumble of the Lawachurl snapped Hai Jun out of his trance. The Lawachurl’s footsteps shook the ground as he charged forward, his achievement of knocking Xiao down heightened his ego for another Adeptus to become its next trophy. 

Hai Jun threw the ball of water that was filled with the dead Hilichurls at the Lawachurl, almost like a slap to its face. With a quick inhale, he summoned for more and more; until there is an artificial ocean big enough to capture the Lawachurl like an ascending cage. Until there is more than enough water he could make enter the Lawachurl’s system, filling every cavern of its body until it overflows. Until there is no air. Until it crushes every organ it has–– 

+++

Xiao woke up to the silence surrounding him, but sooner than that he quickly recognize the ceiling of the house he’s under. Trying to sit up pulled out a groan out of him, but the complaint his body sent wasn’t relevant enough for him to stay put. 

He spotted his spear that was wiped clean and placed next to the bed he was on. Then, he turned his head to the entrance which opened up to a large expanse of what would be an ocean to any foreign visitor. For him to remain dry was all thanks to the work Hai Jun put into constructing his domain, a shield that separates the water from the house Xiao was in. 

Hai Jun’s figure appeared; swimming across the entrance only for him to swim back upon looking at Xiao standing at the entrance, staring back at him. When Hai Jun jumped into the shield, he flicked the water off of himself with a light huff. 

“You’re supposed to keep resting, that’s what you do when you’re wounded,” Hai Jun lectured yet his tone remained playful. He held a box of items in his hands that he later placed down on the ground, in it were simply a bunch of shells. 

“I feel better,” came out before Xiao could stop himself, the common answer his mouth recognized and replicated without a mistake. 

The answer brought a sudden stern look on Hai Jun which Xiao rarely saw unless a dangerous event was rising in the horizon, like a tidal wave of Osial’s ready to crush Liyue. But he gave that look to Xiao. 

“Can we talk inside? Please,” Hai Jun asked, raising a hand ready to lead Xiao back into the tiny house. 

The domain rumbled lowly, the movement of water knocking gently against the shield surrounding them made for a rather calming lullaby. Xiao extended his arm for Hai Jun to renew the bandage that had been dirty from his wounds; dirty bandages piled up in a small basket. 

“Thank you for calling my name,” Hai Jun suddenly spoke up, his tone gone soft as he tied the ends of the bandages, making eye contact with Xiao who nodded slowly in return. 

Xiao lowered his arm and remained silent; not knowing how to respond to that statement since Hai Jun’s name simply crossed his mind. He didn’t mean to call him. But, if it weren’t for Hai Jun the wounds would’ve been more severe. 

“What I said earlier today about taking breaks,” Hai Jun said, reminding Xiao of the conversation they had before Xiao left; Hai Jun’s gaze lowered to the basket of dirty bandages, “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m underestimating you. I was worried that you would be pushing for more than you can handle.” 

Hai Jun lifted his gaze along with his hand to tap against Xiao’s bandaged forehead slowly. “Things like these.”

Xiao’s gaze flickered from the finger that touched his forehead then to Hai Jun’s gaze; back to its usual look of tranquility with a hint of care. Instantly, his eyes left Hai Jun’s. 

He heard a brief, breathy laugh from Hai Jun before the other Adeptus slightly leaned forward. 

“I want to tell you that you can rely on me, but I don’t want to sound like you aren’t already strong. How do you want me to tell you that?” 

He gave Hai Jun’s words some thought. Truthfully, Hai Jun’s confrontation came naturally it was astounding, but perhaps it was also that natural sense that allowed him to be skillful in making a confrontation less threatening, less of pushing others into a corner. Hai Jun’s giving Xiao a choice only he could make for himself. 

“I’ll make an exception.” 

Hai Jun leaned back in surprise, his eyes blinking rapidly before a playful smile displayed itself upon his features. “Will you? What sort of exception?” 

“Try it for yourself,” Xiao urged as he shifted in his seat, carefully folding his legs as he opted to rest his arms on his lap instead of crossing them like he would. 

Hai Jun seemed to like the idea, from how his shoulders rose at Xiao’s invitation or perhaps the hum he let out as he thought carefully of the words he’d use. 

“Alright,” Hai Jun finally spoke, “will you at least stay to eat Almond Tofu with me?” 

Xiao processed Hai Jun’s wish in momentary silence before his gaze softened, lowering itself onto the scattered pile of scrolls at the corner of the room. 

“I’ll do it.” 

[hansensgirl]

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

[leviiattacks]

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

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

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

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

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

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

"Soon?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

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

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

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry-"

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

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

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

846, ii.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oi, come here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

847, i.

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

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

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

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

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

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't."

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

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

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

"Then die."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

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

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

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

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

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

"We both know we feel the same."

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

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

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

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

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

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

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

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

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

"Swear you won't die on me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

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

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

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

849, ii.

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

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

The memories become increasingly bitter.

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

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

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

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

How wrong he was for thinking that.

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

850, i.

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

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

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

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

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

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at  it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.  

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second.  It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful. 

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase. 

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

rhinestone eyes

PAIRING: Rich Boy!Eren x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS [present+future]: infidelity, dubcon, gaslighting, manipulative and toxic behavior, toxic relationship, sexual content, yandere tendencies, suggestive hand-holding

part one

kofi

There's a sneer on Eren's face as green eyes behind Versace aviators glide over your form, staring you up and down. His gaze is so penetrative, it makes your teeth chatter. Maybe he was just checking you out. Maybe he was scrutinizing every blemish.

You suddenly feel so very small in your tennis skirt, the tight collared shirt stretching over your breasts, and wished that today out of all days wasn't when you decided to dress a little more stylish.

"Fancy seeing you here." His voice is nonchalant but there's a tone of humor that accompanies his brisk words. How long would it be until he laughs at you?

He scowls, "Are you mute or something? Why aren't you greeting me back properly?"

"Eren," You took a deep breath, "What are you doing in Paris?"

It occurs to you that you've never seen him out of his uniform before. He's wearing a light blue button-down, half the buttons left unfastened, polo shorts, an expensive black watch glittering on his wrist, silver rings on his slender fingers, and a thin silver chain dangling around his neck.

He's also acquired a new piercing, industrial, judging by the bar across his ear. The silver glints harshly under the sun.

"Are you done burning holes through me?"

You blush, embarrassment coloring your cheeks: "No, I'm just surprised." You tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear, "Didn't expect to run into anyone I knew in another country."

You were just taking a pleasant walk in the acclaimed Champs-Élysées, the avenue every bit as a picture-perfect postcard as it had been described.

"Have you eaten?" The question is spoken with a sigh like he couldn't believe he was asking you this, and you couldn't either.

"Oh, um, no?" You responded, bewildered.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, which reached the nape of his neck by now: "I know a cafe around here. Let's get brunch. We'll talk there."

You don't know what possessed you to nod but you did so, trying to match his quick and long strides. The walk was silent, presumably because the two of you were saving your burning questions for the cafe.

He rolls his eyes when you stutter through your French. He raises a hand, and simply tells the waiter his order and dismisses him. His French is flawless and you're tempted to ask him how it's so good, but you already know the answer. Probably had hordes of tutors to help him.

Merci Monsieur

"Wait," You remark to Eren, "I didn't order."

"I ordered for us. Pain au chocolate, savory crepes, eggs, and ham. Coffee after. For me. Hot chocolate for you because you don't drink coffee."

Oh. That actually sounds good. How did he know your beverage preferences?

He fishes out a cigarette from his pocket, skinny and hand-rolled, "So what are you doing here? No offense but you don't exactly seem like you can afford a vacation to France. "

Now is your turn to sigh. You've nearly forgotten how blunt he could be: "Here on an internship. For art" You supply.

"I assume you just regularly come to Paris every summer?"

He doesn't deny or verify your statement, "Something like that."

"So you're staying at a hostel or?" He asks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that makes your nose wrinkle.

The waiter comes by with food, and you turn to Eren with a sour look, "I sincerely hope you're not going to smoke while we're eating."

To your utter surprise, he ashes the cigarette. You were expecting a witty and mean retort at the very minimum, not silent compliance.

You pick up the earlier conversation, "Well, I'm actually staying with my boyfriend." You mummer the last word quietly but the viridian-eyed boy's ears are keen. You don't notice how his grip on the knife tightens.

"You're staying with your boyfriend?" He repeats.

You nod, "Yeah, he's an art student too."

The rest of the meal is completed in sparing small-talk and lengths of silence. But it's not awkward. It's weird. On one hand, having brunch with Eren Yeager in fucking Paris, heir to a billionaire pharmaceutical company should feel surreal, but it's strangely peaceful. You feel more at peace sitting across from him in France than you did when he sat next to you in homeroom.

When it's time to pay the check, Eren looks amused by the very notion of you digging into your purse.

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let the lady pay?" His words are spoken with a teasing smile.

You roll your eyes but can't help a glimmer of a smile from peeking through on your lips, "Didn't take you much for a gentleman."

He tosses his black card on the bill, "You'd be surprised."

What's there left to do now? Is it time to part ways? There's a part of you that craves more but life has taught you to not be greedy when you already have so so much.

You dabble the corner of your lips with a napkin, "Well, this has been fun-"

"Wait, uh, do you wanna check out the Louvre? Since you're an art student and all, you might uh enjoy it."

You stare at him. Is he tongue-tied?

"You've probably there been a million times already."

"Yeah...but you haven't been, right?"

You blink before breaking into a smile that Eren is sure is going to give him heart palpations, so sunny and bright.

"I would love to!"

You guys check out Mona Lisa for the sheer novelty, and you're bouncing around the museum, oohing and ahhing at the chiseled statues and Renaissance paintings. There is so much history here, it blows your mind.

Eren finds himself watching you more than the paintings. You have this veneer of snark that you wrap around yourself like a protective gauze (maybe that's how you maintain your survival in a world of hyenas) but you're different now.

You're yourself. Watching you here come alive in unbridled enthusiasm, eyes widened in passion, makes him reach out to his pocket and fish for his disposable film camera. He doesn't know if he's ever seen anyone in his vapid life look like the way you do, so filled with a zest for things that are greater than themselves.

He wants to burn you into his memory, praying to all the gods that you won't notice when he takes a picture of you admiring a bust of a goddess. He slyly tucks his camera back into his pocket.

The world seems to stand still when you tug his hand to show him a painting, an expression of unadulterated wonder on your face. But when you realize you pulled his hand, you immediately drop it like hot coals.

Why do you look so worried? Why do you look so scared?

"You can hold my hand if you want. It's-it's okay." He can't believe he's gotten the words out.

You're taking too long, your hands still hanging limply by your side, an indiscernible expression on your pretty face. Eren doesn't understand why it makes him so mad, why your sudden hesitation grated his nerves. Deciding to make your choice for you, he grabs your hand, squeezing your palm as he flashes you the charismatic smile that's got him out of countless incidents.

He doesn't like the expression of worry marring your features. Where did the happy jovial girl go? Just a few seconds, you were poking him with sparkles in your eyes, "Look at this Eren!" and "So beautiful, right?"

He forces another smile: "Show me the painting you wanted me to see." Maybe it was meant to be a request but it comes out as a demand.

You cast a glance at your joined hands, his grip borderline painful. "O-okay."

You lead him across the floor, and Eren can feel the stares of people around him. They are smiling. An older woman utters a "Un si charmant couple."

You take him to a grand painting. It's haunting and dark, swirling with so many shades of dusty red from vermillion to scarlet. A pregnant woman lies reclined, arm hanging and head lolling. She appears to be asleep, and there is a cacophony of men around her portrayed in varying degrees of stress.

"Death of a virgin", you breathed.

Such a macabre name, Eren thought as he gazed longer into the painting. He loosens his grip on your hand, testing whether you would pull away.

You don't.

It's raining outside and you're giggling.

"Fuck" Eren swears, "I'll call a cab."

You're a vision drenched in rain. Your clothes are soaked, and he could see the outline of your bra from your thin shirt. But it seems like you don't even care.

"Let's just enjoy it!" You cry out. There are thick droplets stuck in between your eyelashes, and you smell like rain too. It's dangerous, he can see chords of purple lightning flash the sky, thunder booming, and it's like you're dancing, the way you move so effortlessly.

You hook his hands in yours, "Doesn't this feel good?"

He feels like all his sins are being washed away, all the impurities and muck that clung onto him after nineteen years of existence. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat every time he looks at you.

He cups your chin and kisses you. When he feels the threadbare resistance, he kisses harsher, tongue and teeth swallowing your protests, coaxing your mouth open with a skillful pinch to your nipple. He pulls away just before you feel like all your breath has been robbed.

You're stunned speechless, "Eren...I...h-have a boyf-"

He kisses you again. And this time you kiss back, holding nothing back.

taglist: @candy-hime @cinnamon-n-roses @forwardpair

inspo: @candy-hime's rich boy!shoto. the iconic golf club one <3

[five-rivers]

Training Video

Another Exhumed entry!

Warnings: mentions of death, etc.

.

“Hey,” said Patterson, “now that we’re pretty sure you aren’t going to leave or sell us out to the GIW, you need to watch this video.” She dangled a vcr tape in front of his face.

“Selling you out to the GIW was an option?” asked McGee. “I wish I’d--”

Patterson slapped a hand over his mouth. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Hng?” said McGee.

“There’s a genie ghost. Hasn’t been around in a while, but it’s better not to risk it.” She removed her hand.

“You have to be kidding.”

“I am absolutely not kidding. Desiree is real and means business. She showed up on my dad’s birthday this one time, right as he was blowing out the candles, and, let me tell you, that was a real pain to sort out, since the hair did not go away after Phantom caught her-”

“Just give me the tape,” said McGee. Everything about this ridiculous town was exhausting.

“Come on, you love it here.”

“I do not.”

“You haven’t left yet.”

“Please just give me the tape.”

“Yep. Here you go,” she said, finally giving up the tape. “TV’s in the back room.”

“I know where it is. I’ve been here long enough.”

“Great. See you in a couple hours,” said Patterson, waving.

“What, are you serious? This thing is that long?”

“Well, sometimes it takes people longer to watch the whole thing, but, nah, I’ve got to go arrest someone.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s a real bummer. Paperwork, you know.”

“You’re on your way to arrest someone, and you stop to do this.”

“To be fair, I was doing this first.”

McGee closed his eyes. “Please go do your job.”

“Right. Anyway, good luck with that.” She walked away.

McGee sighed heavily, and looked down at the tape. It really did look like someone’s home movie. Plus, the tape itself was the weird green color McGee associated with ghosts. Oh, this was going to give him an existential crisis, somehow, wasn’t it?

He got up to find the tape player.

.

The speakers crackled. “Um,” said a distorted voice, “I’m not sure why we’re doing this.”

“We want to understand ghosts better,” said a voice McGee recognized as Patterson’s, “and you’re the best human ghost translator. So…”

“Yeah, but you can just ask me questions whenever. I don’t get why we’re filming it though, and- Oh, is that the new-?”

“Fenton Film Boo-tamax tape? Made specially for getting ghosts on film reliably? Sure is!”

The actual video came clear of the static to show Phantom floating, cross-legged in the middle of the APPD interview room. He groaned, leaning back and flipping over.

“Don’t tell me they’re getting you to advertise.”

“It’s just a word from our sponsors!”

“You’re a police officer!”

“In the most haunted city in America. Anyway, we’re going to make a training video.”

“To understand ghosts better?”

“That’s the plan. I mean, we’re going to get people with all kinds of preconceived notions signing up as time goes on… and some of us here already might have a few preconceived notions we need to get rid of. This is going to be really helpful.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Phantom. “That makes sense. So, what are we going to talk about?”

“Let’s start with… How does it feel to be a ghost?”

Phantom blinked, and a line of static slowly made its way from the top of the screen to the bottom. “Like, as opposed to being a human?” He clasped his hands together, playing with his gloves. “It isn’t really that different, overall. I mean, um. At least for people who are dead. I can’t really say if it’s different for ghosts who’ve been ghosts the whole time-”

“We’re going to have to revisit that later, kid.”

“Right. But for ghosts like me, it isn’t that different. I mean, we’ve got different physical needs and stuff, but emotions and thoughts are mostly the same, once you sort of, um, process everything. Like, you’re running on different hardware, but the program is the same? Parts of it might run better, or run worse, but… you get what I mean?”

“Sure, sure,” said Patterson, “and I don’t mean to contradict you, but there do seem to be some pretty significant psychological differences…”

“Well,” said Phantom, “you wouldn’t like anyone messing with your body, would you? But I get what you mean. Ah. Yeah. So. Generally, with people who’ve died, you don’t ask them about their deaths- again, that’s not really a difference, that’s more like, no one really wants to talk about that kind of trauma. Well, some people do, but you still don’t ask about it. It’s like asking an amputee how they lost their arms or legs. That’s rude.”

“That makes sense,” said Patterson.

“Most of it does,” said Phantom, “once you think about it. We’ve got, like, reflexes and instincts that don’t line up with humans’, but usually those aren’t actual compulsions.”

“What about Obsessions?”

Phantom scrunched his face up. “I mean… That’s sort of a gray area? How about… I mean, I’ve heard people describe Obsessions as a compulsion, or as- as a drug, but that feels really messed up. It’s more like… Obsessions are things you chose. When you’re dying, that’s what you stayed for, what’s important to you.”

“So ghosts that fulfil their Obsessions, er, pass on?”

“If they had a finite Obsession, like revenge or something. But ghosts with just one Obsession usually aren’t very, um. Bright. No, that’s not quite it… Self-aware? Anyway, most ghosts like me have at least two Obsessions, even kids. Adult ghosts have more. But, point is, for your Obsessions, they’re something you already chose, and it’s a choice you’re constantly making just by existing, so you can’t act against them- unless another one is threatened, but that is… not good. That can hurt you. You can choose between your Obsessions, but it’s damaging. Um. I’ve gotten off track. Where was I?”

“What it feels like to have an Obsession.”

“Oh! Right. Well. When you’re satisfying it, it isn’t like a drug or anything. It’s just… satisfying. Like when you eat good food, or when you see one of those pictures where everything lines up, or when you solve a math problem.”

“I don’t think the math problem thing is a universal experience.”

“But you get the general idea? It just feels right when you’re doing it. Correct. Like you’re in the right slot. It doesn’t always feel good. My main Obsession is helping- and by the way, asking about a person’s Obsessions is rude, because most of the time you’re either yelling about it to everyone, or you’re keeping it secret- so, I get beat up a lot when I try to protect people. Which, you know, I don’t really like fighting, most of the time. Or getting hurt. But it’s still the right thing to do.”

McGee turned off the video.

.

“There are ghosts that aren’t ghosts and they all have OCD,” said McGee.

“Oh, Patterson gave you the video, then,” said Collins. “Did you finish it?”

“No,” said McGee. “It’s not very… compact.”

“Yeah, Phantom rambles a lot. But what are you going to do? He’s a kid.”

“A dead kid.”

“You have visited his grave.”

“I know. Just needed to be said.”

“Need a drink?”

“About a dozen.”

“Well, I can give you coffee spiked with a shot of Five Hour Energy.”

“I’ll take it.”

[scientifically-strange]

What If...?

Danny was falling. He was falling and yelling for a very long time, until he hit the ground with a loud smack! He bounced twice before finally settling. The wind had quite literally been knocked out of him, and it made everything hurt.

He squinted his eyes open, the harsh sunlight attacking his corneas.

Until suddenly it wasn't.

On nothing but instinct he rolled away from the figure that had blocked out the sun. He had been expecting an attack, but when nothing came into contact with the ground he became confused.

He was still a little dizzy from his rough landing but he was able to make out a strong female figure pretty easily. She had dark hair and was sporting a uniform with the British flag on it.

"Who are you?" He asked, standing up slowly as to not make his condition worse.

"Name's Captain Carter," Carter said in a smooth British accent. Danny took a closer look at her. Why did Carter sound familiar? Was she from his textbook or something? And if she was then what was she doing standing in front of him? Usually people from textbooks are dead.

"Where am I?" He asked.

"You must have hit your head harder than you thought. You're on top of Avengers Tower, darling."

"Avengers..."

Now that he was more awake he was able to actually hear the familiar sounds of the city, and the polluted air blowing through his hair. How had he gotten here, though? A few minutes ago he had been in Amity fighting Vlad. Maybe that last blast Vlad shot at him sent him here. Did that mean this was an alternate universe? Had he completely bypassed the Zone altogether? He had to get some answers, and it looked like the best way to get them was through Captain Carter.

"My name is Phantom," he said, offering a hand. She took it, but her shoulders were tense, ready to pounce if she needed to. "I was fighting a villain and I think he sent me here."

"Why would he send you to the Avengers Tower?" Carter asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, not the Tower specifically, per se," Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I think he sent me to a different universe."

There was a pause. Then two. It was a tense silence that seemed to stretch on forever, until the good captain threw her head back and laughed.

Danny sat there, confused as to what he should do next, while Carter laughed her little heart to death.

A few minutes later when she had composed herself, she smiled down at him. "Sorry. It's just-of all the things I've heard after arriving to this century that is the most outlandish I've heard. And I've fought aliens."

"Join the club," Danny said with a smile. "Anyway, can we go see Tony? I need his tools to get everything ready to go back to the Zone."

"Well, before that there is quite a bit of explaining to do."

---------

Once Danny had finished his story to the rest of the Avengers, he figured this universe was just strange when it came to serious information being slapped down on the table. When he repeated himself to the rest of the Avengers, the only people who didn't laugh at him were Bruce and Carter, but only because she had already done that. It wasn't quite as funny the second time around, apparently.

He had also figured out that this was Peggy Carter. It was no wonder why she sounded so familiar, what with how Steve went on and on about how amazing she was. Not that he was standing in front of her, he could understand why. Even without the serum coursing through her veins, he's sure she could absolutely body him any day of the week.

"So let's just back this up for a second," Tony said. He was still a genius, he was still Stark, but he was never Iron Man. He was just a big fan of Peggy, and wanted to help in any way he could. It was weird to see him on the sidelines and not the front lines, but honestly it was probably better that way. Less of a chance of him dying, and all. "You're a half-dead teenager from another dimension? And in your universe, Hulk is green, Carter is dead but the scrawny fuck she dated isn't, and I run around in a big metal suit with a death wish?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Danny said with a shrug.

Tony looked him over once before shrugging. "Yeah, okay. Sure." Tony stood up and stretched his limbs before heading for the elevator. When it opened, he turned around, exasperated. "Are you coming or what, kid?"

---------

Working with Tony in this universe was just like working with Tony in his. It was loud, both from the music and the argument he was currently having with the scientist.

He had been stuck here for a week so far, and trying to build ghost stuff from nothing but memory was hard, okay? And he was tired and stressed out, and just needed a fucking breather.

He slammed his hands on the metal table before storming out of the lab and making his way up to the roof. He needed to feel the cool night air on his skin. He briefly wondered if the stars were the same here or not.

When he got to the roof he was met with familiar broad shoulders and dark hair. She didn't turn around, but she did pat the seat next to her.

"That was quite the argument you were having down there," Peggy told him. Danny just shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

"Tony is just being stupid. He doesn't understand anything about ghosts, and doesn't want to. In this universe and mine. I'm just...Tired, I guess."

"Well, I can assure you he's always been stubborn like that," Peggy told him. And then, as an afterthought, added, "Whether or not that's a good thing or a bad thing completely depends on who he's upset this time."

Danny managed to give her a small smile. He could feel the angry pressure in his chest deflating the more Peggy made fun of Stark. It was funny...Steve sometimes did the same thing when Danny was upset with the scientist.

After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp air. It was nearing the end of fall, and soon the snow would come. Thinking about snowball fights with his friends made his heart ache for them. Sam, Tucker, Bucky...Steve.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. It was partly cloudy with the occasional airplane passing through, but from this high up he could make out a few stars.

"He talks about you all the time, you know," Danny said, interrupting whatever Peggy had been saying. "He talks about how you're the strongest woman he's ever met. And how he wanted a different life...With you." Danny turned away from the sky to see Peggy looking at him like he hung the moon.

"Tell me more about him," she insisted. Danny smiled. It was something he could latch onto. A part of his home he was able to share with somebody who understood what it was like to be in a completely different world.

He obliged. He talked about the way Steve talked about her, about how he had defied the government for Bucky, about the art in his sketchbooks and his unwavering need to do good. He quite literally had a heart of gold, and Steve showed it with every action he made. It was deliberate, absolute.

After a while, the two just fell into a comfortable silence. For how long, neither of them knew. It was long enough for Danny to start dozing off, until the slam of the roof door rang throughout the night air.

He was up in a flash, fist glowing, until he realized who it was.

"What is it, Tony?" He asked tiredly, letting the power out of his hand.

"I think we did it," he said. Danny was immediately more awake.

"Seriously?" He grinned. He looked over to Peggy who was grinning back at him. She placed a sturdy hand on his shoulder and urged him forward.

"Come on now," she said. "There's a villain to take down."

-------

It worked. It really worked. And it bypassed the Zone. The timing might be off but he would end up in his universe again. It was a relief to say the least. He turned to the two who had helped him the most.

"Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate the help. And Peg," he turned to the taller woman with a small smile. "I'll tell the big guy you said hi. If we ever cross paths again, I hope it's under better circumstances."

After a quick hug from Peggy and a clap on the shoulder from Tony, he was gone.

----

He was falling again, but this time he caught himself just before he hit the ground. Or, rather, the roof of Avengers Tower. Danny sighed in relief as he placed his feet on the ground, standing tall and firm. Just as he started walking forward towards the door, it burst open, and Steve came barging out, shield at the ready. He blinked at Danny for a moment before rushing forward and crushing the teenager in a hug.

"Danny! We were so worried! Where have you been?"

"It's a long story," Danny laughed. "But first," he phased out of Steve's grip and handed an envelope to Steve. It was a special delivery. Top priority. Orders from the captain herself. He watched as Steve gingerly took it from his hands, his eyes wide and unbelieving as he looked between the letter and Danny. He shrugged and gave the captain a sideways grin.

"Peggy says hi."

[skyeet-the-writer]

okay i’m not sure if you are taking like open requests but corpse and reader are dating and nobody really knows but like the fans ship it and stuff, and they are playing among us with jack, felix, rae ect,, and someone invites somebody and it’s reader ex boyfriend and corpse notices that she’s acting really quiet and he texts her like “baby are you okay??” and she tells him that’s her toxic ex and during an emergency meeting, her ex suspects her and when she defends herself he says something along the lines of “don’t believe her she’s a fucking liar, she’s been one since the day i first met her” and everyone is like ??? but corpse flips out on him and just snaps telling him to leave his girlfriend alone which breaks his cover so everyone knows about you guys and just like really mad corpse and having to help him calm down and you get up from your seat to see him in his streaming room and just sit on his lap and he’s like “fuck that guy it’s okay baby we can just play minecraft or something” lmaooo 🥺🥺🥺 sorry i know that was so specific but the thought makes me so soft i would actually cry if you wrote this

This Is A Shout Out To My Ex

here’s my first request guys! so sorry they’re taking so long. i’m trying to get these done before i do anything else. hope you guys enjoy! x,

corpse x female!reader

summary: while paying a game with her friends, y/n’s toxic ex joins the game. when he calls her a liar, corpse snaps and defends his girlfriend

word count: ~4.4k

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, gaslighting, near-death experiences, swearing, some angst but it has a super fluffy end!

Living with your boyfriend is, obviously, amazing in every way. You see each other all the time, you get to cuddle almost all the time, and you get to see his handsome face every morning.

Probably, the only downside is the fact that living together makes it nearly impossible to hide the fact that you’re dating.

But, somehow, you’ve managed to keep it a secret from you rabid fans for the past four months. You literally have no idea how because you’re pretty sure you accidentally got a glimpse of Corpse walking by while you were doing a vlog.

Miraculously, no one noticed it. Then again, none of your fans knew what he looked like, so there’s a plus. There were one or two comments asking who the person in the back was, but you lied and said it was a friend. Technically, you weren’t wrong.

And so you’ve been trying to keep your relationship with Corpse on the DL to avoid any stress or anxiety his way. You could deal with it, you’ve been doing Youtube for years and could handle almost anything. Corpse, bless his heart, might not be able to.

One morning, you’re awoken by some slight tugging on your hair. You crack your eyes open but the bright light makes you whine and close them again. There’s a soft laugh behind you and you roll over onto your back, scooting over closer to him. You stretch your legs and grin, still keeping your eyes closed. 

“Did you sleep at all?” you ask in a quiet voice, your head resting on your lover’s chest.

“No,” he answers in his deep voice and you feel him play with your hair. “Anxiety, insomnia, the usual shit.”

You hum and open your eyes slowly, deciding to brave the light. You blink up at Corpse who is staring at the ceiling. “What were you thinking about?” Your own voice is a bit scratchy and rough. 

He looks down at you and you take notice of how bloodshot his eyes are and the bags under his eyes. “How pretty you are when you sleep.” He grins.

“You watched me when I slept?” you ask and playfully narrow your eyes at him. “You creep.”

He laughs and you turn around onto your side, your back facing him. “Baby, no, I didn’t mean it that way.”

You smile. “You’re so creepy, Corpse.”

He doesn’t say anything but you hear him sit up in bed. You begin to ask what he’s doing but then he lifts up the back of your shirt to press a few kisses to your back. “You’re still here, though. With me.”

“Hm. Yeah.” You turn around and he gazes at you. “Because I love you.”

His eyes light up in the way that they always do when you tell him those three, simple words. You love seeing them light up that way and you grin. “I love you, too.” He leans in for a quick kiss.

“What time is it?” you ask when you pull away.

Corpse reaches over to his side of the bed and turns his phone on. “Noon.”

“Noon?” you shout and sit up so quickly you get a head rush. “We were supposed to be playing Among Us with Sean, Pewds, Toast, Rae, and them.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You turn and see him with his hands covering his face.

You walk over to him and kneel next to him. “Babe? What’s up?”

He just groans and you frown. He doesn’t feel good. 

You push his hair from his forehead. “I can tell them that you’re not feeling up for it. They all know you, they’d understand.”

He shakes his head and runs his hands down his face before they rest on his chest. “No. No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” He gives you a smile.

You kiss his cheek. “Okay, then, babe. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.” You grab his hands and tug him up until he’s in a sitting position. He pulls you in for another kiss but you lean away.

“You have morning breath,” you tell him when he gives you his sad eyes. “Brush your teeth and then I’ll kiss you.”

That seems to get him out of bed and into the bathroom while you change clothes. You change out of your sweatpants and t-shirt and into jeans and a shirt. He walks out of the bathroom yawning and you walk past him to go to the bathroom.

I wish he’d sleep, you think to yourself while brushing your teeth. After brushing your teeth, you wash your face and do a little bit of makeup so you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed even though you did.

Corpse walks into the bathroom as you’re finishing your makeup and has a mug of coffee for you. You’re the only one in the house who drinks coffee since he can’t, so you always find it so sweet that he makes it for you.

“You made me coffee?” you ask and he nods. You take it from him and give him a peck. “Thank you, love.” 

You take a sip and grab your phone from your nightstand and shove it into your pocket. You walk out of the bedroom the two of you share and into the kitchen to check on your cat. 

Before you met him, Corpse had never really wanted a pet. He said that they die and he doesn’t want to deal with that, which you understand. But after the two of you had been dating for three months and you had been living with him for a month and a half, you begged him to let you get a cat. You knew he couldn’t say no to you. 

“Where’s Inky?” you call out to your boyfriend after not finding your cat in the living room or the kitchen. 

“In here,” he calls back and you follow his voice. Corpse is sitting in his chair getting ready to stream. You spot a black cat sitting on his table, licking at his hand. Corpse laughs and pets the animal on the head. “Stop licking me, girl. Your tongue feels weird.”

You smile and walk over to him, picking the cat up. “Come on, Inky, let’s leave dad to do his job, yeah?”

The young cat meows up at you and stares into your soul with her green eyes. You lock her gaze and have a staring contest. You lose, however, and blink away. 

“Why is your cat so weird?” you ask, placing the cat back down and watch her run away. 

“Probably gets it from her mom,” Corpse mumbles and you hear a smile. 

You scoff and smack his hand away gently when he reaches out to you. “Fine, you don’t get a kiss before the stream.”

“No, wait!” he shouts and grabs your hand, pulling you towards him. “I was kidding, baby.”

You smile at him and cup his cheek. “I know.” You lean down and give him a long, deep kiss. You feel him smile against your lips and you pull away. He gives you a smile.

“I love you,” he mutters, brushing some hair away from your face. 

“I love you more.” You grab his hand and press a kiss against his knuckles. You take a step back. “I’ll see you in the Discord chat, babe.”

“Okay. Also, don’t close the door all the way!” he calls to you and you look back at him, your hand on the doorknob. 

“Why?” you ask, leaning on the doorframe. 

He takes a second to respond. “Because I want Inky to come in here later.”

You laugh but smile. “Okay, fine.” You walk away from the door and across the hall into your own recording room. 

Your room is a lot different than your boyfriend’s. His room is dark and doesn’t have a lot in it. Yours, on the other hand, probably has too much stuff. Most of it is gifts from fans like stuffed animals and other knickknacks. Your desk, monitors, and lights take up a lot of the already limited space. You turn both your ring lights on after closing the door and turn on the LED lights you have attached to the ceiling. You switch them to the f/c setting and put the remote next to your coffee mug. You sit down in your black and white gaming chair and set everything up after putting on your headset. 

You join the Among Us game after beginning your stream and then the Discord call. You seem to join before Corpse because you can’t see him in the call. 

“You’ve finally decided to join us, y/n!” Felix exclaims and you smile. 

“Am I late?” you ask, taking another drink of your coffee. 

“No,” Sean replies. “I mean, we played a couple of rounds to pass the time, but nothing interesting happened.”

You nod and glance at who all is in the chat. It seems to be you, Felix, Toast, Charlie, Rae, Sean, later Corpse, and someone else who’s tag sounds familiar. 

“Oh! I invited someone new!” says Rae. “He’s a friend from college. y/n, this is Dallas.”

“Hey, y/n.”

Your eyes widen and your blood goes cold at the sound of his voice. You know him. You used to date him. In highschool before you moved away. You remember how toxic he was. He would always blow you off when you wanted to hang out and when you did hang out, he always played video games and never talked to you. 

“Hi, Dallas,” you stutter out. “Uh, hey, didn’t you and I go to highschool together?”

You can practically hear his smirk. “Yeah. We did.”

“I didn’t know you two went to school together,” Rae says happily. 

“Yep,” Dallas says. “We were friends, too.”

You want to throw up.

Suddenly, your loving and not toxic boyfriend joins the call and your spirits lift. 

“Corpse!” you exclaim, almost letting another word slip out. 

“You’re here,” says Rae. “Good noon!”

“Yeah, I’m not a morning person,” he says and you just now notice how deep his voice is. “I just woke up.”

“Oh my god,” Felix says. 

“Jesus,” says Charlie, dragging out the ‘u’.

“You just woke up?” asks Toast. 

He’s a liar, he didn’t sleep at all, you think but keep your mouth shut and laugh. 

“It’s like a forty-hertz voice,” Sean says. 

“It sounds like short wave radio,” Charlie adds. 

You laugh. “You sound like spoken brown note.”

Corpse laughs. “This is me when I wake up, that’s what...” He cuts himself off and laughs again.

“I’m scared,” says Dallas. 

“I didn’t know it could get any lower!” exclaims Sean. 

“I didn’t know you could hit puberty twice.” Felix laughs. 

After some more laughter, Corpse is introduced to Dallas. 

“Hey, man,” Corpse says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Dallas replies. 

“Can we start the game now?” Sean asks when everyone is in the waiting room. You take a sip of your coffee while Rae starts the game. 

You mute yourself as your role is revealed and let out a sigh of relief. “Crewmate. Good, this makes this less stressful.” You go into the hallway, following Felix and Sean to go do wires. You clear the two of them and you three go up to admin. “Okay, so for those of you wondering about my reaction to Dallas joining the stream is that he’s my ex. Uh, we dating in highschool and broke up around the end of senior year. So this is pretty awkward for me.” You break away from Sean and Felix to go do a task in the greenhouse. 

You leave out the part about Dallas where he was borderline abusive. You remember him shouting at you for asking for the littlest of things to him gaslighting you and guilt-tripping you into going skinny dipping with him. 

Maybe that’s why you love Corpse so much. He’s the opposite of Dallas. He’s sweet and he’s caring. He’s never once raised his voice at you unless you were beating him in a game. Even then you both knew he wasn’t serious. And he had never once pressured you to do something you didn’t want to do. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when someone reports Rae’s dead body. You unmute yourself and take another drink of your coffee. 

“I found her in decontamination,” Dallas says. “I opened the door and she was right there.”

“I was down by storage doing wires,” you tell them, putting your mug down. “And I was with Felix and Jack for the beginning and I’m pretty sure they’re cleared. So it has to be either you, Toast, or Corpse. Or Charlie.”

“You almost forgot about me,” he says and you laugh. 

“We never vote on seven, right?” Toast says. 

“Not if no one is sus, no,” Corpse answers. 

“I’m skipping,” says Sean. 

You nod and skip voting. “Same here.”

Everyone skips voting and you continue on. You do the rest of your wiring tasks and go out to the balcony where you notice Corpse standing out there. You smile and walk up to him and make your characters’ “eye” parts touch. “Look, Corpse. We’re touching eyeballs.”

You can just barely make out his laugh from the room across from yours and you grin before doing to do your task. You glance at your chat while you run to the reactor with Corpse. “How have you guys been doing? Hope you’re having a good day. Don’t forget to drink some water and eat something.” You smile at the camera and enter decontamination with Corpse and Toast. 

When you enter reactor, Corpse and Toast each go to do it and you head to the sorting in the lab when suddenly a body is reported. 

You decide to be quiet and drink from your coffee while everyone else discusses what happened. You zone out a little when Dallas talks and your mind flashes back to memories you’ve been trying to forget. 

“Wait, who are we voting?” you ask when you suddenly snap back to reality. 

“Felix,” Sean answers. “He vented right in front of me.”

You nod and vote for Felix and he gets ejected. 

pEWds was ejected 

1 imposter remains

You mute yourself once more and continue to do your tasks and stick with Corpse as much as you can. Your chat notices this and begins to blow up with the ship name they have for the two of you. You laugh at the chat as you scan yourself. “Why are you guys freaking out about Corpse and me? We’re literally just walking.”

Another body is reported and this time it’s Toast’s. You know who the imposter is. You unmute yourself and quickly say, “It’s fucking Dallas, it’s a self-report.”

“What?” Dallas exclaims and you immediately sense the hint of anger in his tone. He used to get so mad during video games and it seems like nothing has changed in the past few years. “How’s it me? It could be Charlie.”

“Charlie is dead, too,” Sean says. 

“Yep. And I know both Corpse and Sean are cleared because I was with Sean for a long time and I just watched Corpse get scanned.”

Dallas scoffs. “Well, shit, you got me there.”

After Dallas is ejected, the crewmates win and you all start another round. You suddenly don’t feel like talking too much anymore and do your stream in mostly silence. Just Dallas being there and in the same call as you is making you anxious and bringing up memories you don’t want to remember. 

Your chat asks you about this and you ignore it as you continue to do your tasks as a crewmate. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, looking at who it is. 

corpse 🖤

are you okay? you’re being really quiet

y/n

yeah, ig. just that dallas is my ex. toxic ex too

corpse 🖤

want me to kill him for you? im imposter

You smile and shake your head. “Oh, Corpse,” you whisper to yourself. 

y/n

no dont kill him lol

You put your phone back down on the table and look back at the game. 

You don’t pay too much attention to the game until the fourth round after you and Rae lost as the imposters. You’re a crewmate once again and you’re peacefully doing your tasks when suddenly something lays on your bare feet. 

“What the?” You look down at your feet and see a little dark fuzzball on your feet. “Inky, get off my feet, baby.” You move your feet and pick her up. You hold her in your arms like a baby the way she likes and rub her belly. “Okay, go see your dad.” Inky jumps out of your arms and you watch her leave your recording room. 

You turn back to your task and continue to do them without any interruptions. You notice, however, that Dallas has been following you for most of the round. You’re starting to get a little nervous and you run into the cafeteria to get away from him when he calls an emergency meeting.

You unmute yourself and Dallas says, “I think it’s y/n. I’m pretty sure she’s faking tasks.”

“Except I’m not,” you tell him. “You’re the one following me around, too, Dallas. What’s up with that, huh?”

“I’ve been following you because you’re acting sus.”

You glare at Dallas’s character on the screen, heat rushing to your face. “I’m literally doing my tasks, I know you saw me do the card swipe--”

“Don’t listen to her,” Dallas says and he sounds far too confident. “She’s a fucking liar. She has been since the first day I met her.”

By now your face is completely red from anger and you gasp. “Excuse me?”

“What are you talking about?” Sean asks. “I’ve known y/n for a long time, she’s never told a lie so long as I’ve known her.”

“That’s because she’s too good at it,” Dallas says in a snarky tone and you’ve never wanted to punch a screen more in your life. “Her and me used to date in highschool but I broke up with her because she lied to me about everything.”

“That’s not fucking true!” you shout and you can hear blood rushing to your ears. “I was the one who broke up with you after you gaslighted me about not hanging out with you enough when in reality you were always hanging out with your stupid football friends!”

“She’s lying--”

“The fuck are you saying about my girl?” Corpse demands. 

The chat goes silent for a moment. Corpse just called you his girl. You look at your live chat and it’s exploding with “i knew it”s and lots of keyboard smashing.

“Your girl?” Dallas asks after a moment.

“Yes. My girl. As in my girlfriend.” He sounds so possessive and it’s kind of hot to you. “Why are you calling her a liar?”

Dallas stumbles on his words. “B--because she is one.”

“Right. And how long have you known her?”

“I knew her in highschool--“

“Nevermind, I literally don’t care,” Corpse interrupts him. “I’ve been living with her for the past five months and she’s never lied to me about anything.”

Dallas is quiet for once. Everyone is. No one is really even breathing but your heartbeat is rattling your brain and blood is rushing through your ears.

“I don’t wanna play anymore,” you whisper. You swallow thickly and glance at your chat. Luckily, they’re all defending you and yelling at Dallas. You turn back to the screen. “Dallas, I’m not the imposter. And stop making stupid ass accusations.”

“I--“

“Kick him,” says Felix and you can tell he sounds mad.

“No wait--“ Dallas begins to say.

“No!” Rae interrupts. “I knew there was something off about you.”

“You don’t get to come in here and talk shit about our friend,” Jack says.

“I was kidding,” Dallas tries to explain.

But then something inside you snaps. You forgot how much you hate Dallas. How he always turned the blame on you when he did something wrong. How you almost lost all of your friends because he convinced them that you were a bad person.

At first, you thought he had changed. You thought that he had actually grown up. Turns out that people don’t change.

“Like you were kidding when you almost got me kicked out of the house because you made me go out with you to go drinking?” you ask. “Or how you played a stupid trick on me when I was driving us to school and I almost fucking crashed the car and nearly killed us?”

“Jesus.” You can hear him roll his eyes. “You’re still on about that? It was April Fool’s, you should have expected it—“

“I shouldn’t have expected shit!” you yell and it comes out raw. The memory flashes in your mind and you cringe. “That wasn’t funny, Dallas! You weren’t funny! I fucking hated my life in high school. I was already stressed out because I thought I wasn’t smart enough and you being my boyfriend and ignoring me and manipulating me didn’t help.

“So fuck you. Fuck you for everything you did to me when we were teenagers. Fuck you for making me think that you changed and were actually nice and then ripping that away from me. But you know what? Thanks. Thanks for being my ex because you made me what I am today and you’re the reason I moved to California and met the love of my life.”

You suck a deep breath in and wipe at the tears that had fallen. You put your hand on your camera. “Speaking of which, I need a hug from him. Bye, guys.”

You stop streaming and disconnect from everything. You turn your computer off, unplug your headset, and turn your lights off. You sit in your chair trying not to cry in the dark.

Corpse, your mind says and you open your eyes. You really want a hug. His hugs are the best. You take your headset off and walk out of your recording room. Before you walk into Corpse’s recording room, you head to the living room and grab a fluffy gray blanket and wrap it around yourself.

You don’t even bother to knock on the door and just walk in. His room is still dark and it appears like he’s angry. You can tell by the way his voice is deeper and how he looks like he’s shaking.

But when you tap on his shoulder, he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Babe.”

You sniffle and he pushes away from his desk. You shake your head and pull his arms up above his head and settle yourself on his lap, your legs on either side of him, and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Baby,” he whispers and you lean your cheek on his shoulder. “Just fuck off, Dallas.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and you shift up a little, pushing your nose into his neck. He smells nice. “Stop talking to them.”

“What?” he looks down at you and asks what you’re doing when you take his headset off. You unplug them, thereby disconnecting him from the stream. “y/n, what are you doing?”

“I want to cuddle with you,” you mutter and bury your face into his neck.

You feel him wrap his arms around your back and he pulls you up, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Okay, baby. We can cuddle.”

The two of you sit like that for what feels like a long time. You hear Corpse’s phone buzz, but the two of you ignore it. He kisses the side of your head and you smile.

You sigh deeply as he tightens his hold against you. “Fuck that guy, baby. It’s okay.” He moves his shoulder and you look up at him. “Wanna go play Minecraft?”

A grin spreads across your face and you nod. Corpse smiles back and picks you up, bridal style, blanket and all. You squeal and laugh as he carries you to the living room. “Put me down, Corpse!”

“Alright.” He drops you into the couch and turns around to turn the Xbox on.

You huff and push your hair out of your face, keeping the blanket wrapped tight around your body. “I didn’t mean literally drop me, dummy.”

He shrugs and sits next to you, handing you a controller. “Should’ve been more specific, baby.”

You scoff but can’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. “Jerk.” You put the controller next to you on the couch and move the blanket so it’s over both of your laps and you lean into his side.

After playing Minecraft for the majority of the afternoon and evening, you finally drag Corpse to bed with you after ordering pizza for dinner.

His arms are wrapped tight around your waist as your back is pressed against his chest. Inky hops up onto the bed and nuzzles your hand until you begin to pet her. She lays down on her belly and you gently pat her.

“Am I really the love of your life?” Corpse asks after a long time of sitting in the quiet darkness

You nod against the pillow. “Yeah. You are.”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s smiling when he kisses the back of your neck.

Your phone on your nightstand lights up and you head Corpse’s phone buzz again as well. You think for just a moment about all of the texts, all of the messages, all of the DMs you’re getting about what happened. For a second, you panic. What if people don’t think that you’re worth to be dating Corpse? What if people are calling you a pussy for how you reacted to Dallas? What if everyone hates you?

But those thoughts immediately go away when Corpse mumbles something in that husky voice of his that makes the butterflies in your tummy come back. “You’re the love of my life, too.”

“Yeah?” you hum, your eyes slipping shut.

“Yeah,” he says and you can tell that he’s getting tired as well. “And I’m gonna marry you someday.”

An involuntary smile spreads across your face and your entire body overheats. You bite your lip in the darkness and whisper,

“And I’m gonna say yes.”

But he’s asleep. His breathing has evened out. He shouldn’t have heard you.

You know he heard you somehow, though, because his arms tighten around your waist. You wiggle backward so that you’re flush against his chest and his head drops down onto the top of your head.

You place your hands over his and close your eyes. Finally, he’s sleeping.

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

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