#i cried for more than four hours yesterday about how much i hate myself and my life and the world we live in

[marshymallo]

only hot girls break down all the time when the slightest inconveniences come their way

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 4

Parings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, this one gets a little spicy y’all, descriptions of sexual acts, hints of abuse (please let me know if i’ve missed any)

Word Count: 14.8K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened be be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: well, you guys wanted it all in one post! this is by far the longest chapter, yet, and possibly the longest chapter in the entire fic maybe? i’ve caught myself up now with the progress of writing, since i’ve only completed one part of the next chapter so chapter 5 won’t be out within the next three days like these last four have been. i’m thinking i’ll need maybe a week? not sure, but the next part has a little flashback section which i hope you’ll all enjoy!

god these a/n’s are really long aren’t they? asdfghjkl sorry i’ll make the cut off now. hope you enjoy!!!

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Whether it had been thirty minutes or thirty years, you couldn’t tell. Struggling to stay conscious as the four soldiers brought your limp body back to your cell. Your legs no longer work, gathering dust as they drag across the ground. Your abdomen and back were on fire. You were convinced. They had simply thrown you into hell to cook for a bit before dragging you back out. There was no other explanation. Other than the countless, seemingly endless beatings you had just taken. Whether your legs were tired or if your spine was broken, you couldn’t tell as they tossed you back behind bars, removing the rope around your wrists. You didn’t have the strength to fight back. Didn’t have the strength to even raise your head as they left.

Broken, split ribs sent agonising jolts of pain as you shifted in a lame attempt to curl up into a ball. You hadn’t cracked like they’d wanted you to. You hadn’t screamed, cried, begged them to stop. And you wouldn’t. When they came back for you, you would hold your tongue once again. You had never broken in the past. Whether you’d been compromised during an assault on a rival gang, or whether it was one of your mentor’s training exercises to get you used to torture. You had never broken.

You weren’t about to start now.

Still, the throbbing in your body prevented you from sleeping. You didn’t know what time it was. Time had escaped you during that ordeal. You didn’t even know what time of day it was, pretty sure it was night when they had come for you.

Fuck, your body ached. But you knew comfort was a long way from here. It always seemed so far away from where you were. Did you ever have comfort?

You lay there for god knows how long, seconds turning to minutes, minutes to hours. Hours could have turned to days for all you knew.

When the now familiar echo of footsteps reached your ears, you didn’t move. You didn’t care. Whoever it was could rot in hell for all you cared. Wishing death upon these fucking soldiers was the only thing keeping you from giving up right now.

“The bed not good enough or something?” Levi. Shit. The one person you didn’t want to see you like this.

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to try and count as many marks on the wall as you could. It helped to keep your focus off the dull throbbing coursing through your body.

“Oi, ‘you seriously still asleep? It's almost midday,” the singing of metal caused you to wince slightly as he rapped on the bars in an attempt to wake you from a sleep you weren’t in.

“Get the fuck u—” You had a vague idea what caused him to stop his impending barrage of insults you knew were about to flutter effortlessly from his mouth, and you couldn’t tell if you were thankful or not. On the upside, you didn’t have to hear whatever colourful language he was about to spew. On the downside…

“What happened to you…?” it was the second time he’d asked that question, but from the tone of his voice, you could tell this was less a passing thought and more of a question prompted by horror.

Levi froze. His breath caught in his throat. He had expected you to be awake by now. To be up, with that crooked, cocky smile on your face. In fact, he’d half expected you to be leaning against the wall, the door flung wide open as you twirled the keychain around your finger, simply begging him to ask you how you’d done it.

The last thing he expected to see was you, on the floor, curled into a ball. The shirt on your lower back riding up enough for him to see violent, deep purple bruises, blood steadily streaming from your spine and lower back.

Still you refused to answer, or even move. Filthy fucking soldiers, you fucking hated every last one of them. How fucking dare they? How dare they string you up like a piece of drying meat. They had no idea what you’d been through. What you’d had to do to survive. How dare they assume.

And yet,

And yet there was still that little voice in your head. That little kernel of doubt, convincing you that you deserved this. You had killed so many. So much blood was on your hands.

You deserved this.

You didn’t even notice Levi had entered your cell until a hand rested upon your shoulder.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” your reaction was instant. Instinctual. Immediately wrenching out of his hand, throwing yourself forward. A yelp escaped your mouth without your permission, fire igniting in your body as you moved so suddenly. It caused you to falter in your movements, landing harshly on your side. “Shit!” your voice broke as you yelped, agony flaring in your entire midsection, hand flying to clutch your side as you backed up against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no conviction in your voice. It was more of a plea than anything. If you had raised your head to look at him, maybe you would have laughed at his expression of twisted shock.

But instead you let your hair fall in front of your face, masking your own expression. Teeth grit in silent pain, eyes screwed shut.

Levi’s worry turned to outright unsettling fear. Over the last two days, he’s witnessed you more broken than he’s ever seen you before. He remembered sitting up with you after you’d woken from one of your nightmares. The two of you sitting on the floor against the wall, sharing a cup of tea to not waste resources. He’d seen you angry. He’d seen you upset. But he’d never seen you shattered.

“(Y/N)...” you’d forgotten how soft his usual bored voice could sound. Even after yesterday, you hadn’t heard that tone from him in years. It was borderline unnatural.

It prompted you to raise your head ever so slightly, glaring at him through thick, matted (H/C) strands. You refused to let your guard down, even though the sight of him squatting before you, eyebrows gently creased with suppressed worry almost made you relax. But you weren’t about to be taken away and tortured again.

Any scrap of trust that may have manifested yesterday during the carriage ride and your conversation had been crushed.

“Get away from me,” you looked feral, bearing your teeth animalistically as you snarled. Though it didn’t seem to deter him. He knew a dog only bared its teeth when it was wounded, fearing to be hurt further.

Levi sighed through his nose as he stood. You flinched at his movement and watched as he made more of a conscious effort not to startle you. Your eyes squinted in suspicious confusion as he took a small cloth from his pocket and started running it under the tap.

It seemed the faucet did work. Good to know.

Returning to squat in front of you, his eyes flickered from your face to your abdomen.

“Show me,” he instructed gently, and you almost obeyed him. Almost.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat instead, bringing your knees closer to your aching body. If you hadn’t been trained to withstand pain, you would have cried out as your abdomen begged you to stop constricting your muscles.

“I’m trying to help,” your ears caught the slight irritation in his tone, but you didn’t care. He could kick you for all you care.

Actually, you really didn’t want him to do that.

“I don’t want your help,”

“You need it.”

“Burn in hell, Levi,” it was the first time you’d actually used his name since you said it back when they first apprehended you, and Levi couldn’t deny that it cut deep. A sentiment he masked with a frustrated exhale. Clearly he’d expected resistance. Either that or he was just as tenacious as he used to be.

“Well, I'm definitely not going up,” he responded, that same softness in his tone and despite your situation, you couldn’t help the slight huff of amusement. It seemed to put him at ease too, content you weren’t about to lunge for his throat.

Slowly, you uncurled from your position, visibly wincing as your torn, beaten muscles relaxed. Levi took this as permission to inch closer and you felt a small appreciation for his trepidation.

Still, you couldn’t help but flinch every time he moved too fast. A simple reflex stemming from your training. It wasn’t really something you thought about, but it prompted the raven haired man to freeze every time you moved.

You refused to meet his eyes as he gently lifted the fabric of your shirt, hearing his breath hitch slightly.

“Holy shit…” He breathed. You hadn’t seen how bad your body was damaged, but judging by his reaction;

It sure as hell wasn’t good.

Levi felt he could kill someone. Actually, a lot of someones. Shit, when he finds out who was responsible for this he would make sure they wished they were never born. The same rage he felt when seeing you flinch for the first time once again coursed through his veins, and this time, he didn’t think he could just let it simmer.

“Who did this to you?” you blinked, his question caught you off guard. Didn’t he know? How didn’t he know? Surely every soldier in the damn military would revel in the idea of you being tortured all night. You clenched your jaw, refusing to respond. You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. Maybe it was the sheer principle of not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him.

In fact, now you thought about it, it was definitely that. Whether Levi sensed it or not, he chose not to press you for an answer. Perhaps he did already know.

You hissed as the cold, damp cloth gently soothed your inflamed skin, glancing back to his face. You hated the way his focussed expression calmed your heart. Loathed how that crease in his eyebrows eased your whirling thoughts. Despised how, from this angle, you could see just how annoyingly attractive he had become.

“Can you move?” he asked, silver eyes rising up to meet your own. The low torchlight highlighted the heus of deep blue you knew he had hidden away. You pretended you looked away because you couldn’t stand the sight of his face, rather than the reality.

You were far too tempted to lean up and capture his lips.

“Yes,” Levi couldn’t tell if you were lying, shifting slightly to help you move but stopping immediately when you flinched away.

“Lie on the bed,” for the first time in ten years, you were compelled to follow an order. You weren’t even obedient towards Viper most of the time. But nonetheless, you found yourself struggling to your feet, an arm braced on the wall behind you.

Clearly respecting your independence, Levi took a step back, allowing you to find your own way. If you weren’t slightly delirious from the pain, you would have missed a kernel of respect flashing in his expression, before he swiftly turned away, washing the cloth again as you collapsed onto the so-called ‘mattress’ with a hiss.

Levi rung the small cloth out onto the floor, focussing on the way the droplets collided with the stone, rather than the way every movement you made caused you obvious pain. Once again, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to cradle you in his arms and whisper soft nothings into your ear. He wanted you to fall asleep next to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He craved to feel your soft hair through his fingertips, gently coercing you into dreams. It hurt so much that he could see you, but he couldn’t have you.

Turning to face away from him, you once again shrivelled into a ball. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this. You just wanted to be left alone. But the dip in the bed behind you told you that wasn’t an option right now, muscles tensing on instinct.

he didn’t ask for permission this time as gentle fingers gripped your shirt, dragging up to reveal your brutalised back. If you could see his expression, you might have even been afraid. Darkness shrouded his face, teeth grit in utter hatred. A muscle in his jaw twitching from the effort of clamping his mouth so tightly.

His first touch felt like you’d been shocked by the static that built up on the bed clothes. The damp cool gliding across the welts and bruises across your back. Balling your hands into fists, you refused to make any sound. Still having the mindset of not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing you in pain. It was a mindset you didn’t think would leave you for a while.

Levi worked in silence, allowing you to settle and almost relax after a while. You wanted to trust him, but you didn’t. Not really. However, right now, you trusted him not to hurt you further. Simply content to relish in the way he soothed the pain. It didn’t come naturally. Every time he pressed too hard it took all your strength not to lunge for his throat, but he would stop upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, waiting for you to settle before continuing.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, you finally broke it with a question that had been budding in your mind.

“Why are you doing this?” your voice came out a rasped whisper, almost as if you hadn’t used your vocal chords for weeks. You were sure he wasn’t going to answer, opting instead to simply continue to clean your bruises. Another blanket of quiet had settled over the two of you before he responded.

“I don’t know,” he lied. Levi wasn’t sure why he lied. Honestly, he thought it was obvious enough. He still cared about you. So fucking much. It burned him to see you in so much pain. He’d never felt the mind numbing fury he felt when he saw what they’d done to you.

You weren’t really happy with the answer. If anything, it simply gave you more questions. But you were too tired to press for more. Almost too tired to notice when he’d stopped. Pulling your grimy shirt back down to your waist, you felt the mattress rise as he stood. You didn’t turn. You couldn’t turn. After the night you’d had, the exhaustion from the last 24 hours finally catching up on you.

Noticing how you were almost already asleep, Levi decided to throw caution to the wind.

You felt a soft caress through your dirt ridden hair, the action sending a pleasant buzz through your system. It was an action so familiar to the both of you, you wondered why you kept flinching away from his touch when all it did was gently drain you of energy.

“Sleep.”

You didn’t have time to contemplate his tone before the comforting nothingness claimed you.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi hadn’t been this angry in a long, long time. Sure, he’d been annoyed. When a solider made a stupid mistake or when a cadet didn’t know how to clean properly. But he hadn’t been this furious in years.

Maybe since the deaths of Isobel and Farlan.

It was obvious when Levi was in a bad mood. Sweeping through the headquarters like a storm. Cadets could almost feel his presence before they saw him, swiftly making themselves busy as he paid no attention to any of them. He had one goal in mind. One destination. And he didn’t even knock when he got there.

“Out. Now.” it wasn’t an order to disobey. When he opened the door to Erwin’s office, revealing a small meeting, Levi didn’t think twice to dismiss them, even if they were his superiors.

“Levi, what’s—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll all leave the room for the next half an hour. Maybe longer depending on how this conversation goes,” his swirling eyes met Erwin’s and he swore he could detect the slightest fear in the man’s gaze.

Good.

He should be afraid.

Without so much as a mutter of goodbyes, the squad leaders and section commanders all dispersed, leaving the Captain alone with the Commander.

Erwin was the first to break the heavy silence.

“I’m assuming this is about Raven?” his voice didn’t waver, seeming to have regained his composure from the initial shock. But Levi wasn’t here for a dainty conversation. The unbridled rage pulsing through his bloodstream clouded his vision, almost seeing red.

“Did you know?”

“Levi—”

“Did. You. Know?” Levi hardly ever raised his voice. Usually it was only out in the field or on a mission, and that was only because it was easier to communicate that way. Keeping his bored, flat tones when slicing open the nape of a titan didn’t seem possible.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep, defeated sigh.

“Yes. I knew. But Levi, you have to understand—”

“I don’t have to understand jackshit. Don’t you think she’s been through enough? She’s led a life being treated like an animal and now you’re allowing her to be beaten like one?”

“It’s necessary, Levi.”

“It’s barbaric!” Erwin had never heard such venom in his voice. Not even when he vowed to kill him all those years ago. He’d seen Levi’s rage. Witnessed it from afar. The way he tore through flesh like it was paper.

Never did he think he would be on the receiving end. Leaning forward, the blonde folded his arms against the desk, clearly conflicted.

“I know this is a difficult subject for you. You two grew up in the same environment, it would only be natural for you to care for her,” the conniving bastard. Levi borderline snarled at the statement. He did care for you. Deeply. But Erwin didn’t need to know that.

“But please listen. As I mentioned before, ties between the Military Police and the Survey Corps are taut. Any discord between us would cause them to snap. I already tightened them further by not allowing them to execute her publicly. I thought if she joined the Scouts instead, not only would we gain an asset, but she would also be able to survive. That didn’t sit well with Niles. He wants her to pay for what she’s done. If not by death, then by various other methods. This was the only way to keep both parties happy, Levi. Trust me,” Levi was starting to lose what trust he had in the man.

Whilst yes, his explanation made sense, it still didn’t sweeten the blow. How long would this go on for? Would they take you everyday, or just some days? How badly would they hurt you?

As if able to read his mind through his knife-like glare, Erwin continued.

“It’s only for this week. Whilst she’s in her cell. They don’t have permission to permanently damage her, only—”

“Only break her ribs and crack her sternum. Yeah, I saw,” he responded bitterly, folding his arms as he leant against the door. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck them.

Levi had never been so conflicted. Whilst the sight of you, beaten and broken, had shattered him, he also knew it was for your own good. It was this, or death.

He didn’t like the second option much.

But the memory of what they had done had burned into his skull. Running his fingers down your prominent, bruised spine. So fragile, but so goddamn strong. Muscles spread disproportionately about your abdomen and shoulders. Your stomach was concave for fuck sakes. And they were still beating the shit out of you.

It made him wonder. If he wasn’t so lucky…

Would he have received the same treatment?

Would he have been thrown in a cell and tortured for a week?

He doubted it.

Erwin waited for Levi to gather his thoughts. Waited for him to say whatever he was going to say next. He had expected Levi to find out. Had expected the man to have some sort of reaction, but nothing quite to this extent. Maybe there really was something deeper between you and him that Levi was keeping to himself.

“So this will continue for a whole damn week?” Levi asked, almost exasperated, running a hand through his obsidian locks. This was a nightmare. All of it. Nobody deserves this treatment. Not even Kenny, but especially not you.

It was Erwin’s slow nod that had his stomach dropping.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “This will continue for the whole week.”

That was all Levi needed to hear. Whether it was right or wrong, he was powerless to stop it. Turning on his heel and heading back down the halls to his office, he tried to push the images of your broken body and spirit from his mind. Maybe he was hoping you were the same bright eyed, mischievous woman you were before he lost you ten years ago. How had so much changed since then?

How much had you changed so much since then?

He no longer saw that spark of life in your eyes. No longer able to bask in your genuine smile.

If he hadn’t seen so many young, hopeful souls shattered by the paralysing fear of facing a titan, or the desperate heartache of losing a loved one, he’d be surprised.

But he wasn’t. Not at all. Who knows what you have had to do to survive? Who knows just how much of yourself you’d had to sacrifice to get where you are now. But he wouldn’t accept that you were gone.

He would never accept that.

But from the looks of you, only a small fragment of your true self remained. Levi thought he was over being hurt by the changes in people he somewhat cared about.

Maybe he was wrong.

꧁ꨄ꧂

The week was gruelling. Taken from your cell at night and being subjected to both physical and mental torture was one of the toughest things you’ve faced. It was brutal, having to fortify both your mind and body nightly against the blows from the MPs. Sometimes it would change. Sometimes the original four switched out. Sometimes they had an observer. But every time was horrific.

You were sure you’d be dead by now if Levi didn’t visit daily to soothe your broken and cracked bones. If he didn’t ask his monotonous questions, all of which you either responded to with something sarcastic, or silence.

Very few times you actually gave a real answer.

Unlike this time.

“How did you get that scar?” It was always the question he started with. Always wanting to know what happened to you during the time he was away, and that scar down your right eye.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking that question?” you huffed, tucking your elbows beneath your head.

“Don’t you ever get tired of not answering it?” since you’d seen him everyday since you arrived, you were beginning to relearn all the tells you knew he had, but had changed over time. For example, this smallest lilt in his voice when he found something amusing. He waited for your body to stop twitching as you laughed silently, before resuming the treatment of the damp cloth.

“Not really, it’s fun listening to you get more and more frustrated.”

“As charming as ever, Raven.”

You didn’t know how you felt about him using your alias rather than your name. You knew you’d asked him to, or rather, harshly told him to, but he’d used your actual name a few times since then. But you didn’t want to ask, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, debating whether or not to answer. You’d refused him everyday, but as more time passed, the more you remembered just how much you’d loved him.

“There was a rival gang in the neighbourhood next to ours. Always fighting us for territory or supplies. Honestly, I wanted them wiped out, but Prongs insisted that would make us far too many powerful enemies,” Levi had paused as you started the exposition, genuinely surprised you’d actually decided to give him a full answer, rather that the usual “I entered a sword headbutting contest” or something equally as ridiculous.

“We were at each other’s throats for years, never really landing a solid hit on the other’s gang, until the bastard managed to take one of my Shadows, Diablo, alive. I owed those people everything. They took me in when you—” you managed to stop yourself, but not fast enough for Levi to avoid feeling the gut punching guilt he felt whenever you accidentally mentioned him leaving. You really didn’t mean to, you were just used to talking more openly about it.

“Uh, sorry. Yeah, they took me in, so I owed them a lot. Plus, I’d known them for years by now. I trusted them and they trusted me. I wasn’t about to abandon her,” Levi could hear your conviction and resolve in the cadence of your voice, and silently wondered when you’d become so strong. He’d almost forgotten he was supposed to be treating you badly damaged back, until you hissed slightly. Looking down, he realised he’d pressed a little too hard with the cloth against your tender skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

“‘S’fine. Just concentrate, yeah?” despite your condition, you still had it in you to crack cocky jokes. Levi had half the mind to swat the back of your head with his cloth, but he decided to be merciful.

You left it a beat before you continued.

“Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. But it turns out, all the creepy bastard wanted to do was to make sure everyone knew I wasn’t untouchable. Then maybe we’d stop having smaller gangs ally with us. I let him scar my face, and in return he gave us Diablo back, completely unharmed. It was really fucking weird now that I think about it,” Levi pondered this for a moment, before another question popped into his head.

“What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“The creepy guy, idiot.”

“Call me an idiot again, I fucking dare you.”

“What will you do? You can hardly stand.”

“I don’t need to stand to beat your sorry ass.”

Shit, he’d missed this. This playful banter between the two of you. He’d missed it so goddamn much.

“He found one of my blades stuck in his throat pretty soon after,” Levi grunted in approval, a small smile bloomed across his face at the thought.

Good.

Creepy son-of-a-bitch.

The two of you continued in a comfortable silence for a short while, before your slightly mischievous voice cut through it again.

“Okay, my turn,” you sounded far too nonchalant for his liking, Levi narrowing his gaze to the back of your head.

“Your turn?”

“You’ve been asking me questions for the last few days, and I haven’t asked you one once,” if Levi didn’t know better, he’d say you were almost pouting. He was tempted to turn your head to check, but it seemed you still weren’t entirely comfortable with the whole being touched thing.

He hadn’t asked you about that yet.

“Alright, alright. One question.”

“How come you get countless and I only get one?”

“Call it a Captain’s privilege,”

“Pffft, Captain my ass,”

“Just ask your stupid question.”

You laughed at his feigned frustrated tone, knowing he was loving this as much as you were. You allowed yourself to think about how you wanted to phrase this.

“Are they still here with you? Farlan and Isobel?” you had been slightly hesitant to ask this, since he hadn’t mentioned them once. You didn’t know them personally, only seeing them fleetingly when Levi would usher you into his room, or having sparing conversation with them when Viper sold them that ODM. And judging by his pained silence, you now feared his answer.

“Yes and no,” your question had definitely caught him off guard. He didn’t even think you remembered them, so for you to ask after them was a little out of the blue. Hence why he opted to mimic your response from a few days ago.

You had clearly caught on.

“The hell does that mean?”

Levi realised he probably couldn’t tend to your back and tell this story at the same time. He was going to need all his strength to suppress the torrent of emotions he knew he was about to unlock. Sensing his change of tone, you slowly shifted so you were sitting next to him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly or awkwardly so as to not irritate your painful back.

You searched his features in the silence, partially hidden by the bangs you used to love running your hands through. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not they were as soft as they used to be.

“It was my fault,” he admitted quietly. You hated seeing Levi like this. You’d only seen him like this once before, when Kenny abandoned him. You vowed you would never let him feel like this again as long as you were by his side.

This is what happens when you’re separated.

“What was your fault?” you gently prompted, not wanting to push him, but rather wanting to let him know that you were willing to listen.

“It was our first expedition. I was naive, agreeing to let them come with us, rather than the original plan which was for me to go alone. Raven, the reason I— the reason we left, was because we were recruited for a job, and killing Erwin Smith was part of that. But none of us knew what to expect beyond the walls. We’d trained but, we didn’t know what to expect when facing an actual titan,” you didn’t press further when he took pauses or longer breaths. You were happy he was comfortable enough with you now to even tell you this. “Everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly, and it wasn’t long before it all went to shit. I lost sight of them when the storm hit, losing them in the fog. I was completely powerless to stop an Abnormal. Shit, I didn’t even know it had passed me. I just saw bodies and limbs everywhere and knew I had to turn back. By the time I got there, it was too late. They were both gone,” Levi’s fist clenched into a ball, taking his focus away from the pain in his chest to the one in his palm. He didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch, not quite able to believe how far the two of you had come in such a short amount of time.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Levi,” he didn’t really understand what you were apologising for, or why you felt the need. Afterall, it was him who left you.

“I vowed after that day I wouldn’t have any regrets. Some jackass said that if I did, their deaths wouldn’t mean anything. But I knew I would always have one. I knew I would always regret leaving you behind,” Levi looked to you through his bangs, an expression of guilt etched into his hardened face. You forgave him at that moment. You forgave him for everything.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? And whilst I may not be the same girl you left behind, I still have her memories,” your hand slid from its position on his shoulder to rest over his heart, feeling it flutter within his sturdy ribcage.

Levi faintly wondered if he was dreaming. If you could feel his heart rate increase with every touch.

“That’s why you said yes and no, isn’t it? Because they’re not physically here, but they are here,” Levi could do nothing but nod, his eyes trained on your face like a hawk. He wanted permission. Begged for it through his dark, swirling eyes. Screamed for it in the way his eyes flickered to your lips, your face so close he could smell that scent of freshly baked bread you’d always carried with you, even beneath all the filth. A few centimetres further and you would have what you’d wanted for ten long years. What you both have wanted.

“You sound ridiculous,”

“Your fault,” he could feel the flutter of your breath against his face, wishing nothing more than for you to close the distance.

Levi slowly brought his hand from his lap, his palm rising to cup your cheek.

It didn’t even get close before you flinched, eyes darting to his raised hand.

And just like that, all the tension dissolved. As if you hadn’t been busy getting lost within the storm that were his irises. Levi pulled back, as if he himself had been struck.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking,” he rose from his position next to you, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

How could he be so damn selfish? It was obvious you couldn’t do anything like that right now. Maybe not ever. And he was getting way ahead of himself. You had already said the girl who loved him was dead, he couldn’t even think how or why he would assume just because your body was present, your mind was as well. Just because he was willing, why would you be willing as well?

Except you were.

So. Fucking. Willing.

And you cursed yourself for these instinctive reactions. Every sudden movement had your mind flashing back to training. Back to Viper’s brutal learning methods. It wasn’t even that much longer after Levi left you were made the Raven. After Viper’s death, it was almost instantaneous. But that didn’t stop those seven months of brutal punishments to leave a permanent scar on your psyche. You wished you could find your voice to reassure him that you’d get over this.

But you couldn’t.

And Levi was once again the first to speak.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow Raven—”

“(Y/N),” you corrected him. After countless times of him calling you by your alias, you didn’t think you could stand it anymore. Levi raised his brow, seemingly a little confused by your interruption. “I’m not The Raven anymore. Technically that title belongs to Prongs now. So it’s just (Y/N),” despite the awkwardness of your recent encounter, you still felt that familiar warmth blossom in your chest at his softened smile, and quietly wonder if anyone else ever saw him smile this much.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N),” you returned his expression, before lying back down on your side. This was your last night in your cell, before you’d be free to join the Scouts. You silently scoffed at the irony of that statement, but nothing could quell your small candle of hope as you listened to Levi’s footsteps get quieter and quieter. Maybe things weren’t so shit up here after all.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“You know, Raven, I’m going to miss our little nighttime meetings,” another harsh blow to your stomach sent you reeling, eyes screwed shut in both pain and defiance. They were trying everything they could to break you tonight. Blood running freely down your abdomen. Fresh bruises now blossoming over the wilted petals of previous nights.

Still you refused to break. Solid walls of spite had erected around your mind, and they wouldn’t be cracked or broken. Not by anything. So you took it. You took your punishment, only opening your mouth to hurl obscene insults or vile curses in their direction. Mocking the way they struck, laughing at their lack of strength. It only resulted in harsher blows, but it was worth seeing the frustration on their faces when you didn’t scream in agony.

“You know who you remind me of like this? I only made the connection a few nights ago. Strung up and beaten like your good-for-nothing father,”

That struck a chord in you. Your eyes flew open, staring at the ground in horror. This is what had happened to him? They had taken him and beaten him? Was he still alive? Was he here somewhere?

The man, who you’d dubbed Dirt, answered all your questions with his next jab.

“A shame he only lasted a few days. You on the other hand… you’re much more fun to play with,” a feral grin sliced through his face as he circled you, drawing back to land three excrutiating blows against your lower back. You grit your teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You didn’t think you had a heart to shatter. You didn’t think any of it remained for it to be broken again.

The MPs had taken two father figures from you.

That grin still adorned Dirt’s face as he went to swing the metal bat again, only to be interrupted by the door behind you opening. Dirt’s eyes narrowed, before whoever it was seemed to please him. God you couldn’t wait for the day where you tore that venomous smile right off his fucking face.

“Captain Ackerman. To what do we owe the pleasure?” you froze. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he always have to arrive during the moments where you really didn’t want him to see you.

But you weren’t expecting to feel a kernel of hope as he spoke.

You weren’t expecting the small smile that etched into your sweat slickened face.

“I was sent to observe. Since she’ll be joining the Survey Corps, I’m here to ensure you don’t break her,” Levi sounded as bored as ever, and you almost huffed a laugh.

Dirt scoffed, in irritation that he wouldn’t get to sever your spine with brute force.

“Very well. However, I must ask you to stand back. She swings like a stallion’s cock sometimes,” If it weren’t directed at you, you would have laughed at the comment. In any other situation, it would have been rather funny.

Just not this one.

Levi had never felt so sick. As soon as he walked in, seeing you strung up like that, helplessly, he had to force down the instinct to rip every one of these torturous bastards to ribbons. He’d never had to have such a tight hold on his emotions in his life, because if that hold slipped…

This would become a blood bath.

“Anyway Raven, where were we?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical. You knew he remembered. He was just trying to provoke a response out of you. But knowing Levi was here gave you a strength you weren’t expecting.

Looking up through your hair, you shot a glare through the thick, matted strands.

“Choke on your own blood, fuckface,” you spat, kicking weakly towards him. It wasn’t the show of defiance you’d wanted, but it seemed to get the message across. You were prepared for whatever consequences there would be for such a demonstration.

The repercussions came immediately. Roughly digging his fingers into your chin, Dirt forced you head up to look at him, his face a picture of mock amusement.

Levi’s jaw clenched.

“Come now Raven. Not trying to impress Captain Levi now, are you?” your eyes flickered over to Levi, his expression unreadable, grey hues trained on the two of you. A rumble of laughter echoed around the chamber as Dirt took in your spiteful expression. “Now I’m left wondering, how somebody like you could come from somebody like your pathetic father. How somebody so defiant, so fucking strong,” —he harshly jabbed at your stomach with the hilt of his bat— “Could be the daughter of somebody so weak,”

“Shut the fuck up,” you rasp, hot fury surging through your veins. How fucking dare he? How dare he insult your father this way. He was a good man. An honest man. He did nothing wrong. Nothing to warrant his or your mother’s death.

“Hm. No, I think I’ll keep talking. This might finally break you.”

“I’ll fucking KILL YOU,” the hook keeping your arms above your head creaked as you thrashed, trying to free yourself to wrap your hands around his goddamn throat.

“You should have heard his cries. His pathetic whimpers as we carved into his flesh. They were… amusing.” No. This wouldn’t be your downfall. You refused. This wasn’t it. You would not be broken by this.

“At least tell me what he died for. At least tell me why you took him, you shit-eating pig!” you spat viciously, trying once again to get free. It was infuriating more than anything. You had so many questions, never knowing why your parents had been killed. Why you came back to your house in disarray, crimson staining the floorboards as your mother’s blood drained from the gash in her throat. Your father, nowhere to be found.

Though he managed to keep his expression neutral, Levi thought back to your father. For the short time he knew him, he was a kind man. He did what he could for the people around him, always feeding those who looked starving. He was convinced that was where you got your compassion from. Why the hell would they take him and torture him?

“Why? He didn’t tell you? Interesting. Your father knew the location of The Nest long before you became our problem. You thought it was a coincidence Viper just happened to take you in? Please, this job was enjoyable enough, don’t make me laugh with your naivety as well,”

“You’re lying. My father was a baker. He was a good man. He wasn’t involved in our criminal shit!”

“Have you noticed a pattern in your life, Raven? Have you noticed how we tried everything to prevent you from falling down this path?” your jaw flickered at Dirt’s tone, mocking you as if they had done you a service.

“We thought your father would introduce you to a life of crime, so we got rid of him for you. When you fell into the care of Viper; well, we got rid of him for you as well,” his smile was snake-like as flashes from that night plagued your mind. Pressed up against the wall as your mentor was savagely dealt with. Begging at them. Screaming at them to stop. To let him go. Only for them to raise a rifle to his head, and paint the wall with his blood.

Dirt imitated a gun with his fingers, putting them up to your forehead.

“Bang.”

Slowly, you stopped thrashing, though the hatred in your veins didn’t cool. You simmered silently, raising your eyes once again. No tears. No sorrow. Nothing but feigned indifference flickered in the low light.

Dirt looked at you for a moment, eyebrows creasing in irritation as he stepped back, twirling the bad in his hands before repeatedly cracking it against your empty stomach. Levi only just managed to control his breathing as he watched helplessly, flinching subtly as every blow connected with your too-skinny body. Clearly Dirt was taking out some intense frustration. He’d just managed to compose himself when the bastard’s eyes turned to him. That fucking smile poisoned his features as he extended the handle of the weapon.

“Captain Levi. She killed a few of your men, did she not? Why don’t you see if you can break the whore?” You almost scoffed in amusement. Levi wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not after everything the two of you had been through.

You’d finally found each other again.

You were so sure.

You were so sure of yourself.

You were so sure of him.

You’d rekindled that trust over the last week.

You’d rekindled something you thought was dead.

You were so sure.

Until he took the handle.

And the white hot knife of betrayal twisted into your gut once again.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Shit.

The weight of the bat felt ten times heavier than anything he’s ever held in his life. The weight of what he was about to do.

Fuck.

As excruciating as this was to watch, he knew it was ten times worse for you. He knew every blow, every crack, was undoing hours of hard work soothing your aches and bruises. Each thud against your body sent jolts of electricity through him. Nerve ends alight with adrenaline, heart beating as if he was about to fight every single one of these bastards just to get them away from you.

Still you have not broken. He couldn’t pinpoint the slight warmth in his chest, couldn’t comprehend what it was. Was he impressed? Surprised?

Proud…?

Levi wasn’t sure if the look of soul shattering betrayal in your eyes was worth it as his hands gripped the cool metal, slightly slickened with your blood.

He would explain it to you.

He would.

Once you were back in your cell, he would tell you why he did it.

But for now, his glare only darkened as he stepped forward. He couldn’t stand the expression on your face. Confused bewilderment, as if trying to work out what he was thinking.

Levi begged you to stop. Stop looking at him like that. Stop trying to work him out because not even he knew if this was the right thing to do.

It was almost a relief when your wide eyes clouded with heartbreaking realisation and acceptance.

A hiss escaped your lips at the first crack. Somehow, this felt more painful than anything those pitiful soldiers could do. Your eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched so hard you were afraid it would shatter into a million pieces.

Each blow felt so precise. So measured and controlled. It stung your heart more than anything else. You’d been betrayed. Again. For the second time in a week. Betrayed by the two people you’d ever loved. Scarlett, who’d picked you up when you were sure nobody else could. Who nursed your broken bones and your broken soul.

And by the first man who ever held your heart.

And truthfully, still did.

Was that all this last week had been?

A ploy just to fuck with you. To earn your trust only to immediately shatter you once again? To break your spirit? Granted, nobody knew the nature of your relationship between you and Levi, but that didn’t matter. The man you loved had just stabbed you in the back.

Again.

So much had happened in the last week. So much had been brought to the surface. It would take years to unpack it all, not that you had any intention of doing that. You just wanted it all gone. To bury it with your fathers. To never think about it again.

You were dragged from your thoughts by a shock of agony sparking up your spine, stemming from your lower back. It was Dirt’s favourite place to attack. Whenever he thought you were being too feisty, too aggressive. He would land as many blows to your lower back as he saw fit.

Admittedly, you doubted Levi knew you’d been snapping back spitefully all session before he arrived, but that didn’t quell the raging fire of hatred as your lips parted without your permission.

A broken cry of anguished agony wracked from your chest, chilling the air of the humid chamber.

Levi froze, horror flashing across his usually schooled features.

He’d broken you.

Levi had broken you.

And with it, any bond he’d managed to salvage over the last week. Any bridge he’d started to rebuild now came crashing down around him.

That one well placed crack had ripped away at your resolve, exposing the tired, hurt, beaten girl beneath.

The room seemed to have stilled. All falling into quiet awe at what had just happened. A slow clap split the stagnant air as Dirt walked up from where he was leaning against the wall. Levi was tempted to turn the bat on him, but he found himself unable to move.

“Your reputation precedes you, Captain. Striking her lower back like that after leaving it to simmer? Genius! We should have asked you to join us earlier,” Dirt cackled in delight as he produced a knife from his pocket. Reaching up, he easily sliced through the ropes binding your hands.

Stone rose up to greet your body as you fell uselessly to the ground, legs too weak to hold you.

“Oh dear. Are you dead? Maybe you and your father had more in common that I originally thought,”

“Enough.” Dirt’s jeering was interrupted by the no-bullshit tones of Levi, causing the soldier to whirl around. He’d finally managed to find his voice, once again reining himself in.

“But Captain Levi, Sir, she’s The Raven. Don’t you think she deserves some extra time with us tonight?”

“If you don’t leave now I’ll make sure it’s you who won’t be able to walk. Go,” you couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or a curse. If he was an angel or a demon.

Actually no, scratch that.

He was a demon, and this was a curse.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move as you heard busy footsteps around you, assuming the four horsemen were gathering their effects.

“I do hope you make her crawl back to her cell, Captain. We all know your reputation for cleanliness. It would be a shame to dirty your hands touching this filthy whore,” Dirt drawled one more savage insult, before you heard his echoing steps get further and further away. You hoped the day would never come where you had to see his face again.

The silence in the room now was suffocating. You could both feel the emotions radiating off each other now the MPs were gone. He could feel your loathing, and you could feel his disgust. Or what you thought was disgust. What you assumed was disgust.

How could he not be disgusted? He must be. To do what he just did. You didn’t understand why he would come down everyday and help you if he felt such hatred towards you.

No, that’s a lie.

You did understand.

But that truth hurt so much more than anything else tonight.

It had sowed the seed of doubt in your mind. You knew you weren’t a good person. In fact, to most soldiers and nobles you were a devil. But you’d always clung onto the hope that everything you did was to help people. You stole medicine, you slit the throats of rapists, you provided weapons to those who didn’t have enough to fend for themselves.

There was a small part of you that truly believed you were doing good.

That small part had just been crushed, along with several bones.

Gathering what little strength you had, you extended a limp arm in front of you. Fuck it, you weren’t going to sleep here on a floor soiled by your own sweat, blood and saliva.

You would crawl if you had to.

“(Y/N)...” all he wanted to do was hold you. All he’d wanted to do since he’d found you again was hold you. He’d been so close yesterday, but he’d fucked that up.

Now he was sure you’d never willingly let him hold you again. The bat fell from his hand as if he’d realised it was covered in poison, heart clenching at the way you instinctively threw your arms above your head, terrified of some other attack.

You hated how his voice carried so much comfort. Hated how it soothed your raging mind. God you wanted nothing more than to rip his fucking tongue out and make sure he never spoke to you like that again.

A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, forcing you to stop.

“Get… get the fuck… off me… Get the fuck off me,” you couldn’t fight back as he tucked his arms under your legs and upper back, wincing as he lifted you into his grip. “Don’t… Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no strength left in you to push against him as he carried you back, but that didn’t stop you from weakly hitting the arms that held you.

You didn’t understand. One moment he was savagely beating you, and the next he was cradling you against his chest, holding you close as he took you to your cell.

Laying you down, he hoped you understood why he did what he did. It was a fool’s hope, he knew.

He realised you definitely didn’t understand when you started fighting back.

With a sudden surge of strength, you lunged for him. It was a weak attack, and you didn’t really know what you were trying to achieve as you threw yourself towards him with a cry of anguished rage, but you also didn’t care.

“I fucking trusted you,” you spat in between your flailing limbs. It really didn’t take long for Levi to pin your arms either side of your head, hovering over your body.

“(Y/N), stop,” He tightened his grip on your wrists as you struggled against his hold. It would have been a real test of strength for both of you had you not spent the last week having the life beaten out of you. You were weaker than you’d ever been, and he was taking advantage.

“I was right the first time. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t ever get to call me that. You sick, twisted BASTARD. So that was why you lied to me. That was why you didn’t tell me why you were helping me. You fucking coward, is that all you were doing? Convincing me I was safe with you? Tricking me into thinking you still actually cared about me you filthy fucking LIAR,” you barked a mirthless laugh, baring your teeth in a visceral snarl. “I swear to you Levi, I will not fucking stop until my knife is buried your goddamn THROAT!” you struggled again, twisting as much as you could beneath him, trying to free your arms, your hands, anything that could help you take him down.

He deserved this. He knew he did. Levi looked into the burning betrayal in your eyes and knew he deserved this. He would take every verbal blow you threw at him because he knew he deserved it. But he had to explain. He didn’t care. You could hurl whatever you wanted at him, but he wouldn’t leave until he had the chance to explain himself.

Then he would never see you again.

If that’s what you wanted.

“Just calm down, for a minute, please,” you hadn’t heard him beg like that in a very, very long time. Shit, you fucking hated what it did to you. In this position, your wrists held above your head, his arms caging you in, his legs either side of your hips...

The room suddenly felt far too warm.

“What could you possibly have to say to me? I fucking trusted you. You disgusting son-of-a-bitch. I can’t believe I actually thought—“

Levi finally lost his temper.

“What? You thought what? That just because we found each other again we’d play happy families? Grow the fuck up, Raven,” he spat your alias, finally releasing all the fury he’d pent up. He knew this was a mistake. None of this was your fault. He’d been angry with how you’d been treated. Utterly beside himself at Erwin.

And you were taking the fall for it.

“I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t have a fucking choice. If anyone saw me treat you any differently, they would start to question it. They would question why I was showing pity to a criminal. The Raven, no less. And I can’t—”

“Oh I’m sorry, I would hate to ruin your reputation, Captain,” you struck back with just as much venom. Just as much fury.

“Let me finish. I can’t let them get to you anymore than they already have. It was either them or—”

“Because I’m just so import—” you almost cried out as the grip on your wrists tightened, knowing they would leave yet another bruise on your body.

“Let. Me. Finish.” Levi narrowed his eyes, returning the glare you were holding on him and not continuing until you yielded, finally looking away and clamping your mouth shut. “It was either them or me. I could let them continue to beat the shit out of you mercilessly, or I could do it myself. I could try and make it better. I couldn’t fucking watch that shit anymore. I couldn’t fucking stand it. Those filthy bastards laying their dirty hands on you. Hurting you. Shit, you were half dead when I walked in. I was scared you were for a moment. Terrified they were just beating a corpse. But you’re so much stronger than I ever gave you credit for. They never fucking broke you. And they never will. Because if they touch you again, if they fucking look at you, I will go the the ends of the goddamn earth and tear them apart, because I care about you,” Levi hadn’t noticed he was panting. He hadn’t noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t think his self hatred could sink any deeper, but now he’d made you cry silent tears.

Loosening his grip on your wrists, he looked at you as though he’d been responsible for your murder.

“So, it was mercy? That’s what’s considered merciful up here?” you couldn’t really believe it. Twice in two days Levi had spoken more to you than you thought he ever did back when you belonged to each other. You didn’t think you’d ever sounded so small. So vulnerable. “Let me ask you this, Levi. Was it merciful on me, or merciful on you? Because you sure as hell didn’t make things better for me,” despite the quieter volume, your voice was still harsh.

But you had to know.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in and thread your hands through his hair. To feel his body against yours. For his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. But you had to know whether he did this for you, or himself.

You understood now. You really did. And put in the same situation, you didn’t think you’d do any differently.

“Honestly…? Merciful to me. I couldn't bear it. I tried. I tried so fucking hard. But I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore,” his voice was no louder than a choked, guilt ridden whisper.

That’s all you needed to hear. Slipping your wrists free of his hands, you reached up. Cupping the sides of his face, you brought him down to you, since you couldn’t exactly sit up and go to him.

As soon as your lips returned home to his, you couldn’t stop the few tears from escaping your closed eyes.

Levi’s own eyes widened, and he was suddenly convinced he was dead. Was this actually happening? After everything he’s just done, everything he’s just said.

You forgave him?

When your tongue gently skirted his bottom lip, he decided contemplating forgiveness was something for later. Terrified of hurting you further, he rested his weight on his elbows, finally closing his eyes. He’d wanted this for so long. Since he laid eyes on you for the first time in ten years, he’d wanted nothing more than to envelop your mouth with his own.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t mind when his hand came up to gently caress the apple of your cheek. You didn’t mind when you opened your lips for his tongue to hesitantly slip in and explore your mouth, that slick muscle moving against yours. You didn’t mind when his hand travelled down to cup the side of your neck, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

Neither of you wanted to break away, having waited far too long for this moment. You reveled in the groan he emitted down your throat as your left hand found its way to his undercut, gently scratching and caressing in desperation. You hadn’t heard that sound in so long and you instantly craved more.

Levi’s eyes rolled back into his skull behind his closed lids, feeling your hands in his hair. God, he didn’t want to fuck you in a cell, but your hands and tongue were making it difficult for him to control himself.

He was the first to pull back, instantly missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, looking down into your eyes. You could see the swirling confusion in those sterling orbs as they flickered in the low light. You could see the arousal in his dark pupils. Feel it against your inner thigh. You wanted to take him right here and now, but not only did you acknowledge the fact you were literally in a prison cell…

You weren’t sure you were ready. Not yet. Not after everything.

“Levi… if you had done that for my sake, I would have shattered both your kneecaps,” you earned yourself a gentle laugh, his thumb coming up to smooth down your eyebrow. “But you didn’t. I know you feel selfish, and I know you hate yourself for it, but I also know that it was either that, or you beat them to death with that goddamn bat. I know you, Levi. You haven’t changed much yourself,” your left hand came back, softly carding through those ebony bangs.

Levi felt like he could fly. Felt as though you’d returned the wings he’d lost when he thought he’d never see you again.

(Y/N), I want to apolo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

With that, you stretched up to capture his mouth again, instantly feeling like you’d come back home. You didn’t care about the surge of pain coursing through your abdomen and back. That’s what he was to you.

He was home.

You felt his length twitch in his constraints as both your hands found purchase in his hair, gently tugging at the black strands.

“Fuck…” he breathed into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily as you sucked his lower lip between your teeth.

You kept having to consciously remind yourself that you are in fact in a dank, filthy cell. And enveloping him between you increasingly slick folds was wildly inappropriate.

Levi thought it was entirely unfair how you were managing to drag whines and moans from him with nothing but your fingers and teeth. So he decided it was his turn to give something back.

His hand travelled down your body, almost instinctively finding the crease in your thighs. He swallowed his own groan of ecstasy as his knuckles grazed his arousal, opting instead to focus on the way your hips rose to meet the pads of his fingers, gently rubbing your swollen, clothed clit. His circular motions drawing out those small whimpers he’d craved to hear.

“Mmn, L-Levi... ACK, fuck!” your moan of pleasure turned into a small cry of pain as your abs contracted, sending yet another lightning bolt through your system. Levi withdrew his hand immediately, eyes instantly clearing and recognising your signs of discomfort.

“Shit (Y/N), your back,” you felt your heart swell at his concern, though internally cursed yourself.

“‘S’fine,” you insisted, rising up once again to grasp his lips with yours, only to be met with thin air and you ex(?) lover looking down at you.

“No, it’s not. C’mere,” Levi sighed and lifted himself off you, careful not to cause you any further damage. He looked for permission before gently turning you on your side, as if your tongue hadn’t been down his throat less than thirty seconds ago. He cursed his erection, finding himself a little hindered by it as he walked over to the faucet, allowing himself a few moments reprieve before removing the handkerchief from his pocket and running it under the tap.

Though the mirror was cracked, he could still see his slightly swollen lips, distorted against the spider webbing fractures. Could still see the mark you’d left on his face. Shit, he wished for those marks to be left elsewhere. His mind wandered back to the way you used to settle between his thighs, teasing him until you got him to crack. He loved the way you could coerce broken pleas from his throat. Adored the black-blue bites you left on the inside of his thighs, before your warmth enveloped him. Your flexible muscle flicking up and down his sensitive length, running over that prominent vein he hadn’t felt you caress in too long. He missed feeling the vibrations of your chuckle when he begged for you to let him cum. When he felt his balls tighten with release, and yet you denied him still.

But most of all he missed tasting you. He missed the way your arousal freely leaked onto his tongue. He missed the way your hips rose to meet his fingers, that breathy gasp when he found your hidden spot. The begs and cries you made when you wanted him to let you cum. When you whined for his dick to replace his fingers. Fuck, he missed the way your thighs locked his head between them as he brought you to climax with nothing but his tongue flicking over you little, sensitive button. Over, and over, and over again.

“Having trouble?” you grinned from your position on the sorry excuse for a mattress. You’d managed to turn yourself over to watch him, disregarding any agony you felt. You wouldn’t miss this for the world. You wouldn’t miss seeing Levi all riled up and unable to focus simply because of the administrations with your mouth.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, turning the faucet off and ringing out the cloth in the sink. You chuckled at his tone and his predicament, loving every second of it. Though you couldn’t miss the small glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Oi, turn back ‘round. ‘Need to get to your back,”

“I bet you do,”

“(Y/N)...” he warned, with no real malice in his tone. If this was any other man, you would have lunged at them for taking that tone with you. But this was Levi. Your Levi. You knew he would never hurt you. Not unless absolutely necessary.

Case and point: hitting you with a bat to avoid a murder charge.

Begrudgingly, you tore your eyes from his face, haphazardly twisting on the mattress to face away from him.

“Hm, good girl,” Levi purred, eyes gleaming at the way your thighs clenched in reaction. But any spark of arousal was swiftly extinguished, when your body twitched away from his as he took his seat behind you.

You clenched your eyes shut, hating yourself for the reaction you couldn’t control. You didn’t blame Viper for your now primal fear. You knew he was just teaching you what you needed to know, but he had no fatherly experience, and possibly caused more harm than good.

“‘M’ sorry, it’s not you, I promise. I just—”

“No. No apologising. It’s not your fault,” you nodded, not trusting your voice not to crack if you spoke up now.

Levi thought hard about how he wanted to do this without causing any more reaction from you. Attempting to keep his mind from wandering too far, he tried to understand what made you comfortable enough to bring him onto your mouth. To gently tug on his lower lip. To thread your hands through his hair and--

“I have an idea… (Y/N), watch what I’m doing,” you did as he asked, turning your neck as much as you could to watch the movements of his hand. You tensed as his palm hovered over your side. But when you didn’t feel anything, you unscrewed one tightly shut eye, peering at him curiously.

“(Y/N), can you raise your body for me, just to reach my hand?” this might actually work. Levi had been wracking his brains for a way for you to feel comfortable again with touch.

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your body to meet his fingers, almost freezing as you felt no reaction. You didn’t tense, you didn’t instantly balk under his touch.

You hadn’t cried in years, and yet throughout the course of this long, long night, you had cried twice, the corners of your lashes growing damp as a tear slipped down the side of your face.

Growing increasingly concerned by your lack of response, Levi was about to move his hand from your side, but was immediately stopped by your own fingers covering his.

“Don’t. Stay. Don’t move away,” his heart burned at your broken plea, his worried expression softening in slight relief.

“I won’t. (Y/N), I’m not going to touch you without your permission. Ever. But, if you’re comfortable with it, we can do this. If you’re happy with this,” Levi gently moved his thumb against the fabric of your shirt, caressing your side. Your choked laugh of happy disbelief caused his small smile to broaden ever so slightly.

“Yes. Yes i’m happy with this,” still having trouble believing this was truly happening, you closed your eyes in bliss, allowing a few more tears to escape.

“Okay, I’m going to move your shirt up, alright?” your heart sung at his sincerity, nodding silently once again as you felt the fabric of your shirt bunch up ever so carefully. You loved how he always made you feel so precious. Nothing was precious in the Underground, but somehow he always made you feel worth diamonds and gold. You’d forgotten what that was like, until the damp cloth once again soothed your aching welts, chasing away the throbs of pain.

Those spears of guilt once again plunged into Levi’s heart as he saw what they had done to you. What he’d done to you. You were always so forgiving when it came to him. You always have been. He could lock himself in his room for days, not speak to you for hours on end and you would always be there to hold him when the pressure finally cracked. Always there to soothe him when he opened up after long weeks of isolation. When those memories of his mother dragged up again. When the day Kenny left forced him to hide away until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You always forgave him.

And could always sense what he was thinking.

He came back to the present when your hand squeezed his, as if you knew where his mind had taken him.

“It’s okay, Levi,” your soft reassurance broke his heart.

“I should be saying that to you,”

“Go on then,” you retorted, not even trying to hide the mischief in your voice

Levi chuckled, moving his hand from under yours to stroke your hair.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),”

“I feel thoroughly reassured,”

“Tch, shut up brat,” god, at this point your heart could have been a choir. Singing once again at the soft amusement gently lacing his tone. But you internally cringed as fingers threaded through your grimy hair, reaching up to move it away.

“Levi, don’t. It’s fucking filthy,”

“So’s your face but I recall sucking on it a few moments ago,”

“Levi!” you couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He was never one to make such jokes. But you couldn’t deny you loved it. Loved his low, breathy laugh at your indignant call of his name.

“What? Am I wrong?” you couldn’t see his slightly cheeky smirk behind you. Or the way one brow raised in feigned curiosity.

“Well no, but—”

“Didn’t think so.”

“God you’re insufferable. Anyone would think you’re— OW!” you turned to look back at him in mock anger. He didn’t actually hurt you, and by looking at your swiftly disintegrating expresion, Levi was able to decipher you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he continued his administration with the cloth, watching fondly as you settled back down.

You only spoke again when that hand in your hair started moving.

“Levi, seriously, it’s gross. Just focus on my back,” when he didn’t reply, you once again twisted back to look at him, unable to decipher the expression on his face.

“Stay here,”

“Like I’m in any condition to move, asshole,”

“Tch, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back in a minute,” with a final caress of your head, Levi chucked the cloth back into the sink before standing to his feet. You were a bit of a sorry sight, lying on your side, shirt ridden up to reveal your bruised, still bloodied back. He’d managed to gently scrub off most of the crimson staining your skin, but he wanted to provide you with just a little more comfort, if he could.

You didn’t even try to escape when he left the door open. Too tired to move. Your limbs felt like lead everytime you attempted to shift, exhaustion clinging to your bones like shackles. You didn’t know how long you waited, but you felt yourself start to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to help yourself marvel at how easy it would be to slip into a deep sleep. Your mind was far too heavy to sift through the lake of emotions you’d found yourself submerged in. Just as you were about to succumb to the call of rest, your faultless alert system brought you back to consciousness, adrenaline injected into your veins as you shot upright at the sound of footsteps.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” your brittle nerves settled at the sound of his calming voice, heart leaping when you saw what he carried in his arms.

Levi had brought everything he thought he would need. A small metal basin containing a small flannel, a wash-cloth, a small cup, the shower soap and hair conditioner from his own quarters and a large towel to spare the mattress of the water. Kicking the cell door almost closed with his foot, Levi crossed to the sink once again, setting out the contents on the cracked porcelain before filling the basin.

He left the faucet running, turning back to you with the town folded on his arm.

“Gonna need you to move if we want to set this down,” you raised a suggestive eyebrow, mouth pulling into a small smirk. Levi rolled his eyes. “Not like that, brat. Unless you want to sleep on a damp mattress. It’s up to you, really,” the amused spark in his eye betrayed his neutral, blank face as you gently shimmied down the bed, making a space for him to set the towel down.

You watched as he removed his jacket, mouth watering ever so slightly as his shirt clung to his back, unable to tear your eyes away from the movement of his muscles. They had certainly developed well.

“Oi, stop ogling,” he smirked to you over his shoulder, earning a sly grin from you in response.

“Can’t help it,” you chimed, eyes flicking to his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. Fuck, if only you weren’t in a jail cell. Or utterly filthy. Or just not ready for that yet.

If only you didn’t have a thousand things stopping you from pushing him against the wall and engulfing his cock in down your throat.

But for now, you just had to settle with undressing and fucking him with your eyes. Something that clearly didn’t go unnoticed, if the way he writhed slightly under your pinning gaze was anything to go by.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Levi tried to steer his thoughts away from his length stiffening once again. Fuck, the way you were staring at him, he was starting to feel hot beneath his shirt, despite the naturally cool temperature of the room. Your heated chuckle only fueled the flames.

“Aw, why? Are you hard?” you teased, raking your eyes up and down his figure, lingering on the small tent in his crotch. You shifted slightly, almost groaning as the mattress below you rubbed against your swollen folds.

“Tch, obviously. And I’m not going to deal with it in this filthy prison cell, so don’t make it worse brat,” Levi marvelled at your laugh. A proper, head thrown back laugh. He couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face at the sight.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop eye-fuckinig you,” you managed to say, after regaining some sort of composure.

“You’re filthy,”

“Isn’t that why you’re about to bathe me?” you tilted your head slightly, watching him lift the basin from the sink after turning off the faucet. He didn’t deem your comment worthy of a response, opting instead to look back at you with a blank, deadpan expression. Tucking everything else under his arm, Levi returned back to your side. He thought for a moment about how he wanted to do this before, wedging the water basin between his legs.

“Lie back, place your head on my lap. Gonna’ wash your hair,” he instructed, busying himself with getting the small, brown bottle of hair soap. But he paused upon sensing your hesitation. Looking back to you, he searched your face, before slowly bringing his hand up.

You shied away, closing your eyes instinctively, almost bracing yourself for the contact that never came.

“Hey, not gonna touch you without permission, remember?” you opened your eyes to see his hand hovering next to your cheek. He was waiting for your next move, and you could see the slight hopeful spark in his eye.

So slowly, you tilted your head enough to gently nuzzle into his palm, your own hand coming up to keep him against your face.

Levi smoothed the skin under your eye with his thumb, trying his damndest not to let any tears well up in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, you were attempting to do the same. Not wanting him to see you cry for the third goddamn time tonight. But it became impossible when he said something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I missed you so much, firefly,” your breath hitched in your throat at the old nickname. He’d only ever use it in the softest moments in the Underground. Stroking your hair whilst lying in his bed. Staying up and keeping you company when you’d shoot awake from a nightmare. He was never one for nicknames, so one day when he, out of the blue, called you his firefly;

you’d almost cried.

Your eyes widened, hand gently squeezing his own to ground yourself. You let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I missed you too. So, so much,” you hardly had to move forward before your face was nestled in the crook of his neck, his arms slowly tucking you against his body. “I missed you so much,” you whispered again.

Levi didn’t think he’d ever been this happy, at least not for a long, long time. Ecstatic you felt comfortable enough to let him hold you. Though he was usually so good at keeping his feelings to himself, so much had happened over the last week, he felt the walls to his emotional dam cracking ever so slightly, a few tears lining his closed eyes. He could feel the collar of his shirt dampen as you shed silent tears, his thumb rubbing small circles against your back.

Levi held you like this for what felt like hours. Content to just be in each other’s arms once again. In reality, it had only been a few minutes before he gently shifted you so the back of your head rested against his lap.

“Never known you to be such a cry-baby,” he lightly teased, gathering what he could of your hair and soaking it within the basin still wedged between his knees.

“I’m not. I haven’t cried in years. Literally. Probably since Viper’s—” you stopped yourself, not expecting the casual statement to hurt quite as much as it did. “Viper’s death,” you finished quietly, eyes avoiding any direct contact with his own.

Levi took note of your tone change, reaching for the hair soap. He was only vaguely aware of the relationship between you and the old Nest leader. Finding out through those vile MPs.

“Want to talk about it?” The tone of his question matched yours as he lathered the gel into your now cleaner locks to make sure the grime and grease was properly dealt with.

“Honestly? Not yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not even Prongs, or Wolf, and they were his Shadows before mine,” you fell silent for a moment, before looking back to him. “How did you do it? How did you just… leave everything behind?”

Levi sighed at the innocence of your question. The raw guilt he knew you were feeling. Knowing you were up here, safe, warm, comfortable, whilst so many people down there were still suffering. Still dying from easily preventable illnesses.

“I didn’t. Not really. I still find myself thinking back to those poor sods down there. But I couldn’t think about it for too long, because I would find myself thinking back to you,” his hand stroked the top of your now damp forehead, smoothing down the wet locks of your hair.

The basin sloshed slightly as you nodded, disheartened by the fact that this feeling of suffocating guilt would probably never leave you. Levi saw this in your face. He saw the exact same swirl of emotions he felt when he knew he would never return.

But you’d left behind so much more than he did. You had a trusted group. A family who would only know what happened to you through the words of that young girl.

“They’ll be safe, (Y/N). He may be an asshole sometimes, but I trust Erwin. He wouldn’t break his word,” running his hands through your soaked hair, Levi gently teased the knots out with his fingers, easily gliding through the now freed strands.

His reassurance calmed your worries. Levi hardly trusted anyone, you only ever knew him to trust Isobel, Farlan and yourself. This Erwin guy must have really made an impression.

Reaching back to the small flannel he’d brought down with him, he began drying your hair, setting the basin to one side. You didn’t think you’d ever felt this pampered. This well looked after. You thought you could certainly get used to it. Returning your thoughts to the conversation, you exhaled a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… My job was to take care of them. My job was to stop something like this from happening. Our entire operation was compromised because my shitty partner couldn’t get over some grudge she had against a boy she’d never met,” you poked his chest as he rolled his eyes, looking down at you with a brow raised.

“So it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You implied it,”

“Oh don’t be so sensitive,”

“I wasn’t the one who cheated,”

You almost sat bolt upright at that, if it weren’t for him anticipating the movement. What did he mean ‘cheat’? You didn’t cheat. You would never cheat. Loyalty ran through your veins like blood, and if you weren’t so incredulous you would have spotted the smallest hint of mischief in his steely eyes.

“Wh— Cheat? I didn’t cheat. What makes you think that?” your genuine concern broke his heart, and he almost felt bad for teasing you like this.

Almost.

Taking your face in both his hands, Levi failed to suppress the fugitive smirk on his face.

“We technically never broke up, brat,” you breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to scowl at him, tempted to lightly smack the back of his head.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, asshole,” your scowl held no heat, too relieved that he was just being pedantic rather than actually implying you would ever be disloyal. But your glare melted away at the rumble of a chuckle emitting from his chest. You rolled your eyes, trying your best to feign annoyance and failing miserably.  

Removing the small towel from your now damp hair, Levi deemed it dry enough for you to sleep on without catching a cold.

“There. Think you can do the rest yourself? I don’t wanna… make you uncomfortable or anything,” it was your turn for your heart to break, his consideration for your comfort and wellbeing always seemed to be his top priority. You took his hand in yours, gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

“You’ve done more than enough,” earnest gratitude swam in your eyes and it was all Levi could do not to stoop down and kiss you.

Instead, he stayed put for a little while longer, stealing all the seconds he could. He’d realised, with you joining the Survey Corps, you two wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. The company you’d both enjoyed for the past week would be ripped away by expeditions, training and paperwork.

So he greedily took as much time as the two of you could spare, before you would inevitably have to part ways.

“I have to go, (Y/N),” Levi whispered, although every part of him was longing to stay, especially when your face slowly fell in realisation.

“I know,” you tried to mask your melancholy with a gentle smile, but your voice betrayed you, breaking slightly as you spoke. Neither of you wanted to be the one to move. Neither of you wanted to be the first to burst the protective bubble of familiarity you both knew you wouldn’t feel again for a long, long time.

But to save him from doing it himself, you were the one to shift, allowing him to rise from the bed.

“I’ll uh, leave all this here and collect it early in the morning,” Levi shifted slightly awkwardly on his feet, running a hand through his hair. You nodded, adjusting yourself carefully. Your midsection didn’t hurt as much, more of an echoing throb, but you were still cautious nonetheless.

“Right, yeah. Probably a good idea, before anyone sees,” you shrugged, avoiding having to look at his face. You knew it would break both of you if you’d asked whether there was any chance of him staying.

Just for a little while longer.

“I’ll see you soon… Raven,” you felt your soul crack as he replaced your name with your alias. You knew it was right. You knew it was for the best. But that wouldn’t stop every fiber of your being shattering.

Levi hated how you said nothing as he turned to leave. He pretended not to notice your heartbreak as he deliberately called you Raven. He suppressed the urge to pick you up and take you with him. To carry you to his bed and cage you in his arms as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

He didn’t know your prolonged silence was because you were gathering your courage. Silently arguing with yourself over what was right and what was wrong until you stopped him by calling his name.

“Levi…” There was no turning back now. You took a breath, finally raising your eyes to meet his now on the other side of the bars. “I—” love you.

You immediately stopped yourself, finding those three words caught in your throat. You couldn’t say them. Shit, you couldn’t say them.

You were a coward.

“Thank you,”

Levi stayed searching your face. He knew. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted to say. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding, giving you one last look of badly masked longing, before turning away.

“Training starts tomorrow,” though the words themselves were cold, his tone was laced with mourning as his footsteps echoed out of earshot, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Levi had managed all but three steps into the hallway before his name was called by an irritatingly familiar voice.

“Ah, Levi. Good. My office. Now, if you’re not busy,” Erwin had a way of saying ‘if you’re not busy’ that sounded like he was really saying ‘there is absolutely no debate in this, you could be bleeding out and missing an arm and I would still expect you in my office within the next five minutes’. Levi knew he didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Sure. Let me make some tea and I’ll be right there,” he knew he’d made a mistake. The look in Erwin’s cerulean eyes told him that the tall blonde had figured something out. Something dangerous that could compromise his relationship with you.

Actually, he’d probably figured out he had a relationship with you.

Shit…

He was in so much trouble.

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 11

Pairing - really diving into General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner in this chapter, but it is also getting closer to when it will turn to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner

Summary - Two sides of the same coin are finally coming together but it will be up to them to see where things lead. Nature might know that these two balance each other out, but is it intended that they will end up together? Time will tell where their story will go.

Word Count - 1956

-

Anna was deep in a hazy dream when she was suddenly awoken by a knock at the door, she quickly sat up and felt her sketchbook fall into her lap. She rubbed her eyes then grabbed the book, closed it and put it back under her pillow where it normally stayed. Another knock at the door brought her attention back to whoever wanted Anna awake at a much earlier time than what had become normal.

“Come on in!” Anna said, wanting to make sure whoever was on the other side could hear her

Genya walked in with a few maids and a large beige bag in her arms “good morning sunshine”

Anna laughed a little “I don’t exactly look like sunshine right now..” she had cried herself to sleep last night, she was sure her eyes were a little bit puffy

Genya hung the bag up and walked over to the bed and looked at Anna “we have a bit of time before you are to go horseback riding with General Kirigan to fix you up” Genya had heard about what had happened and felt bad for Anna

“Wait, horseback riding with General Kirigan? Should I not be training? Seems like Ivan thinks I should be constantly training instead of goofing off with horses..” Anna was still feeling uneasy about what had happened at dinner

“It doesn’t hurt to have a little bit of fun, yes you could be training, but it is also healthy for you to be able to go out and be a girl for once and not a training machine” Genya smiled, she had seen Anna try and go beyond the Little Palace court yard and was stopped every time, hopefully this would do her some good “plus, I thought I could show you this” she brought a beige bag over that she unzipped to reveal a black kefta with gold swirls

Anna was blown away by the kefta, she ran her hands over the black, she loved it “well, if I wear this it will definitely make Zoya jealous” she laughed a little at the idea

“Didn’t you hear? She is off the palace grounds, he sent her away to reassess her priorities” Genya never really liked Zoya, she would always enjoy times when Zoya was sent to the front line so she would be out of the Little Palace

Anna nodded and continued to examine the new kefta “I know black is his color.. But I really want to wear it” Anna got up and changed

Genya began to work on Anna to fix her hair and anything else that was needed. Once she was done, she helped Anna put the black kefta on and she looked at herself in the mirror. This was a piece that she did not know she needed, but now that she had it would not want to go back. Anna had liked the blue kefta a lot, but the black one made her feel just a bit more comfortable. After all, she had always worn black in Ketterdam, this is what she knew and it felt like now she had a little piece of herself. Her and Genya walked out to the courtyard where General Kirigan was, he was amazed by seeing Anna wear the black kefta.

“You decided to wear it” He was captivated by her, it didn’t take much because to him she was the light wherever she went

Anna nodded “yeah, I really liked the blue, but wearing the black one just felt right” she walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek “thank you for letting me wear your color” she pulled away a little

General Kirigan rested his hand on her cheek “it’s our color” he smiled down at her then pulled his hand away

She smiled back and looked over at the horses, she approached the white friesian horse she would be riding “oh he is beautiful”

General Kirigan watched her “I thought you would like him”

He got on his horse and she had help getting onto hers, she gathered up her reins and they galloped off. It was a good day for riding, it wasn’t too hot and was partly cloudy, a little bit of shade with the nice breeze. Anna felt free, she was finally able to be off the ground of the Little Palace, she never realized until now that it had become a bit suffocating. Now that she had this, maybe life at the Little Palace wouldn’t be stuck behind the same four walls every day. After about an hour of riding, General Kirigan showed Anna the pathway to a hidden spot away from everyone else where a small fountain was placed. When they got there they tied their horses to a tree and walked over, General Kirigan pulled out a few coins from his kefta and gave some to Anna. She walked up and tossed one of the coins into the water, she approached and looked at herself in the water.

General Kirigan walked up and stood behind her “what is it you see?”

Anna thought for a moment “I'm not sure.. I have been trying to find myself, but every time I think I do everything changes..”

“Well, maybe your search is finally over” he watched from behind seeing what she would do

She looked over her shoulder at him “I sure hope so”

He moved to standing next to her “how has your time been at the Little Palace so far? Are you adjusting well?”

“I think it’s good, combat training has been good, I met Baghra yesterday and that went well, I think. I feel like people normally have a hard time with Baghra, am I right?”

General Kirigan nodded “everyone has some sort of challenges with her, what about your room, is it satisfactory to you?”

“It’s amazing, I have never had my own room before” Anna had always shared a room with Alina and in Ketterdam she didn’t even have a roof over her head “I am glad Genya has been at my side, I feel like I can always talk to her about anything.. I just think right now I am trying to find out what this life here will be like. I want a home, nothing has really stuck until I have come here and been given the chance” she felt stupid talking about having a home, one that is forever, but she had never had one before and Anna really wanted one

“I understand Miss Mizeloph, more than I think you know.. When I was young, I would be on the move, never really finding a home until here. However, even then there were times when I would come to this fountain because I could not outrun the fact that I am the descendant of the most hated Grisha in all of Ravka. I questioned how I could feel welcomed in a home that I feel like did not want me.. So at this fountain I would make a wish and hope that maybe things would change”

Anna watched General Kirigan “but if you found a home here, maybe I can too” she stepped closer to him and took his hand into hers, they were each other's support “this fountain is beautiful by the way, and the carvings are well preserved, it tells the story of the Black Heretic, correct?” she let go of his hand and backed up a little to look more closely at the artwork

He turned around and looked at her, impressed “from these old photos you could tell it was his story?”

“My nose was stuck in a book the moment I arrived at the orphanage, and not for the right reasons..” she looked at the pictures, examining the story “Hundreds of years ago King Anastas hired the Black Heretic to be his military advisor. However, the Heretic became hungry for power and the King feared a coup so a bounty was put on his head, along with any Grisha that stood by him. He knew he would be outnumbered so he tried to create his own army with a forbidden science, he failed. Instead he created the Fold and was killed by it along with many others..” Anna looked to General Kirigan, trying to see if she had any errors in reciting what she had been taught

He listened to what she said “I have devoted my life to work on undoing the problems created by my forebears, but I realized that I am not the solution. I am just a reminder of the problem and someone always needs to be blamed”

Anna looked over at him “is that why you look at me sometimes like I am the solution? The legendary Sun Summoner has been found and all problems will be solved.. But if people decide that I am not the hope they wanted, I will become a Heretic that people paint in a dark story..”

“Anna Mizeloph, I promised I would keep you safe, and I will make sure that does not happen to you” He said, approach her and taking her hands into his “you and I are going to change the world”

She looked up to him and smiled “you didn’t call me Miss Mizeloph.. Like you normally do”

He didn’t even realize that “well, if I can call you Anna, then can you please call me Aleksander?”

Anna nodded, looking deep into his dark eyes, they were truly alone, since they had gotten to the Little Palace they had not been alone like this, far away from others. At that moment it was like they were the only two people in the world. Slowly they began to lean into each other and when Anna closed her eyes she could feel his lips meet hers. A kiss, their first kiss, it was a very sweet moment for them. They had found each other, two sides of the same coin, a balance that the other needed to feel whole. For both of them they felt like the kiss lasted forever, but really it was only a few seconds. Both pulled away and gazed into each other's eyes, they did not want to leave, but reality waited for no one.

“I.. should probably get you back to Baghra, she is not the biggest fan of tardiness” Aleksander said

Anna nodded “yeah”

They both didn’t move right away, standing there for a minute before going back to their horses and riding back to the Little Palace. However, they both mutually slowed down and wanted to continue to spend more time together. Both of them had blossoming feelings and now that they were out, they wanted to not be apart for too long. Once they finally got back they dismounted and went to each other.

“I hope we can do this again sometime” Anna said grabbing onto Aleksanders hand

Aleksander nodded “we will”

They watched their horses be put away by the stable hands then they walked towards Baghras place. On their way to Baghras, Aleksander brought Anna's hand up and kissed the top. As they got closer, Aleksander stopped, wanting their last interaction before Anna went to work on her summoning be private.

She got on her toes and gave him a quick kiss “thank you for such a wonderful morning Aleksander”

“You are welcome Anna, maybe we could do something together soon, just the two of us” he held her close then kissed her forehead

Anna smiled “I would love that”

General Kirigan and Anna parted, their hearts growing closer to one another. Two sides of the same coin were coming together now and nature could only tell what would happen next.

-

Author Note - Hi Everyone! Thank you for everyone who has been sticking around to read my story! I know that I have been a lot slower about updating and I am really trying to get back to some schedule which I hope will be soon. Soon I will be moving into an apartment and so after that things should hopefully slow down a bit in life to wrap everything up. Also, if anyone would like to leave a comment, message me or be added to the tag list please let me know!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh @herbatkazmilosica

[rebelrainfall]

you know what they say about absence

ao3 link here

Hey @cassianserso it’s me, your secret santa! I loved your prompt (Jyn and Cassian writing letters to each other), and I had SO much fun with it. I so hope I did it justice!

***

The cold air hits Jyn like a wall as the door to the transport swings open. It may be a good thing - there was barely room to sit down during this last four-hour leg of the return trip and she’s about ready to collapse. Cassian’s not in the hangar, not that she expected him to be, and neither is the U-wing. He must have left already, for what will be his first covert op in almost a year. He was so restless being grounded, hated feeling useless. She’s happy for him.

She’s less happy for herself, not that that’s a thought she has the time or will to explore.

No matter what Solo might say, there’s nothing weird about what she and Cassian are. Since those few, tense weeks after Scarif they’ve become close, and that’s all it is. They share a room because it’s convenient. They’re friends. Partners. And yeah, if someone had told her a year ago her life would be like this she would have been terrified, but things are different now. It’s good. What they have is good. She’s good at soothing that little voice that cries every now and then (more than she’d ever like to admit) for more. What he gives her is more than enough.

Jyn punches the code into the door of their room, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. She has a day and a half before she’ll have to ship out again and she intends to spend as much of that time as possible asleep. Even the hot water in the ‘fresher isn’t enough to keep her there for a moment longer than necessary.

Cassian is definitely gone. The cot across from hers is neatly made, his least-conspicuous jacket gone from its hook. He’ll be on a mid level of Coruscant by now, if she remembers correctly what he told her. 

Her own things are almost entirely the way she left them. Her blankets are half-on, half-off the bed, her vest thrown over the back of the desk chair, but there is something different. 

There’s a piece of folded flimsi on her pillow.

There’s no introduction - her name isn’t even on it. But the note is in Cassian’s handwriting.

I was hoping you’d be back before I left and it came so close. If you arrived when you were scheduled to it’ll only have been an eight hour difference. I can’t say when I’ll be back but I think it should be soon. 

I heard from Bodhi yesterday. He says to tell you training is going well. He didn’t say as much, but it sounds like things are going well with Skywalker, too.

K wasn’t cleared to come with me for this one and he’s very upset about it, so be advised. He should be having his ocular lenses replaced in Bay 3 if you need him.

Maybe you’ll be around when I get back next time. I guess I’ve gotten used to [word(s) scribbled out] having someone else in the room at night. The silence is strange.

There’s no ending or signature, but she doesn’t need one. Cassian never struck her as one for gestures like this, and that he went out of his way to leave this for her makes her warm in a way she refuses to linger on. 

She sleeps twelve hours that night, and ten the next, and in the time between she snatches a sheet of flimsi from a supply closet to return the favour.

I’m sorry I can’t be back to see you. Trafficking rings don’t like to be kept waiting. At least I had two full nights in a proper bed, but you’re right. I miss It is too quiet here alone.

K is a little more charitable now that he can see again. I almost want to say pleasant, but we both know that word doesn’t apply to him. Don’t listen to anything he may tell you - the smoke bomb was his idea.

I’m shipping off again this afternoon to the outer rim, somewhere near Sullust. Pilot says the planet’s almost as cold as here. Bet you had a nice warm room on Coruscant, too bad I can’t stow away with you.

She leaves her note on his pillow and climbs into the shuttle with his in her pocket, like some holo-drama damsel collecting love letters. 

 Maybe he’ll be here next time she gets back.

II.

He isn’t. 

There are signs all over the room that he was here, at some point, since her. Another jacket missing from its hook, an empty mug where she didn’t leave it.

Another note on her pillow.

Just missed you again. We have the worst timing. I’m back on Coruscant, but this next stint is [word(s) scribbled out] delicate. I might be back in a few weeks, but it could be months. I hoped to see you before I left, but you’re right. The war doesn’t wait. 

Don’t let it go to your head, but I think I miss you. I still couldn’t bring K and it gets [word(s) scribbled out] boring by myself. K’s still being a grump - keep him company for me, hey? I also heard something about him attempting to create his own language to bother Skywalker’s droid, so I suggest you keep an eye on that.

There’s still no signature, but this time there’s a date. Two weeks ago. Jyn puts the flimsi down with a heavy breath. It could be months. The timing is… not great. She has an unusual stretch of downtime, more than a week, and no one to spend it with. This is the end of what she’d become accustomed to, she realizes. Now that he’s back in the field, Cassian can no longer be a daily fixture in her life. The prospect frightens her more than she cares to consider.

It’s ironic. Never thought I’d be sad to be alone.

Of course it isn’t so lonely as she might have feared. Bodhi is finally back from his flight training, a full-fledged X-wing pilot with the stories and the friends to prove it. He’s come such a long way in the short time she’s known him and his company is refreshing, even if he isn’t the man she finds her mind wandering far too often toward now that he’s gone.

She sleeps fine that week, though the nights are still too quiet. She could never miss the hum of snoring and whispers of the pathfinders at night. But alone, the dark and the quiet are oppressive in their deepness, threatening to swallow her without Cassian’s steady breathing from across the small space. It scares her, how accustomed she’s gotten to having someone else around. To having him around.

Maybe this is for the best, this separation. She hadn’t realized how much she relies on Cassian, his presence, his kindness. It’s a dangerous game, to rely on anyone. She’s always held a savage pride toward her independence, and maybe this reminder is what she needs to get herself back on track. 

Maybe.

But when she considers it, life without him seems more frightening even than the weakness of reliance. She doesn’t have to be alone any more. The night before she leaves again she sits at the desk in their quarters writing him another note.

Sorry I can’t be here, tried my best! Since you’re so broken without me. I’m never forgetting that and I’ll make sure you don’t either.

Hope you’re here when I get back. I need Bodhi needs someone else to talk to - you can only hear the same three stories about Luke Skywalker so many times and I hit my limit two days after he got back.

Heading back to the outer rim today. Those traffickers from before are gone so now we’re just cleanup crew. Getting sick of Dameron’s jokes. Not that yours are any better. 

Maybe I do miss you

III.

Four time zones on three different planets in the space of a week and Jyn’s circadian rhythm is wrecked. Thane says it’s 0500 local time when they hit atmo and she has to take his word for it because that makes as much sense as anything else.

She doesn’t see many people as she lugs her duffle back toward the barracks. It’s early enough that anyone on a night shift is still working and most of those who start in the morning aren’t awake yet. Madine’s given the crew the full day off, thank the force, and Jyn intends to take full advantage of that fact.

She opens the door and switches on the light before she notices anything different. Someone startles upright on the cot across from hers.

“Shavit, sorry!” She flicks it back off, already halfway to the ‘fresher to turn on that light instead as her pack lands on the floor with a quiet thud.

“No, no, it’s ok. I’m not - I wasn’t asleep.” Cassian’s voice is rough, but alert. “Turn on the light.”

She does, kicking off her boots, before the first thing he said registers. “It’s five in the morning! Why weren’t you asleep?”

He shrugs, squinting at her as his eyes adjust to the light. His hair has gotten longer since she saw him last, long enough now to fall in his face. A little part of her wants to comb it away from his eyes, or maybe tousle the bit by his ears. She shoves the thought away.

“Hi, by the way,” he says, ignoring her question. “Did you just get back?”

“Yeah.” She slumps down on her bed. “And hello to you, too.”

Stars, she’s missed him. Until now she hadn’t realized how much. But now that she’s looking at him… The way he smiles at her, gentle, makes her want little more than to wrap her arms around him. Kiss that gorgeous grin off his face.

Oh.

When did that start?

(A long time ago, not that she means to admit it).

He’s saying something but she missed the beginning, a little distracted.

“Sorry?”

He shakes his head. “You really are tired. I said, meet me for lunch, if you’re awake by then?”

“Sure, I probably will be.” She’ll make sure she is - like she would skip a meal with him after the six weeks they’ve just missed each other. “How long are you back?”

“Technically, I’m still a stand-by agent. So probably a while.

“I have at least a week.” Jyn drags herself back upright and heads towards the ‘fresher. The sooner she gets in the shower, the sooner she can get out and into bed. The hot water is heaven after so long caked in mud, but it still isn’t enough to keep her any longer than necessary. Once she’s out and dressed she sits on the counter to braid her hair, listening to Cassian talk about Coruscant through the open door.

“You should know, my ‘apartment’ sucked. My neighbour in the unit below smoked and it would come up through the vent and I didn’t have any windows. You would have hated it.”

“Wanna bet? I slept in a tree last night. Not a treehouse or even a platform, a hollowed-out tree.”

He huffs a laugh. “Sounds like fun.”

She finishes her hair and turns her attention to the healing gash on her shoulder, opening the cupboard for a square of gauze and a roll of medical tape. She hops down from the counter to pass them to him. “Help me with this?”

“Where?”

“Shoulder. I can’t quite reach it.”

She turns around and pulls down the strap of her tank top to show him. He hisses in sympathy.

“What did you do to yourself?”

“Fight with that stupid tree. It looks worse than it is.”

“Still.”

Settling down on his bed, he guides her to sit in front of him so he can center the gauze over the wound. His hands are gentle smoothing the edge of the tape to her skin. She hopes it’s cold enough that he’ll assume that’s what makes her shiver. He’s so careful - far more than she would have been.

He runs a hand softly up and down her back once it’s in place, and Jyn freezes. 

“There,” he murmurs, “All patched up.”

“Thank you,” she says, proud of how steady her voice is. Force, she’s pathetic. He’s her friend. This is nothing new, this touch is not new. 

If she were to lean back she would be in his arms.

Not that she’s thinking about that.

They’ve lived together for months. He’s touched her more than this dozens of times. Why is this the gesture to undo her?

Cassian clears his throat and she almost jumps. Kriff, did he notice her sudden nervousness? But then he gestures to the desk and the two cups on it.

“Caf for me, tea for you. Should be cool enough to drink, now.”

Oh, he’s an angel. She stands up to get them and then to sit down on her own cot, grateful to have an excuse to get away from his overwhelming proximity. She passes his mug across to him and takes a sip of hers, and of course it’s her favourite kind.

“Thank you. You’re getting up now?”

“If I get more done this morning I can have a longer break for lunch with you.”

Stars, has he always been this kind?

“Aw,” she deadpans, “It’s like you missed me.”

He flicks his eyes up to hers, then looks down into his own drink. 

“I did.”

She focuses on her tea, carefully not looking at him. She can’t feel this way. Not now, not ever. This is Cassian. 

“How did the rest of the trip go? Aside from the evil tree.” It’s been quiet for long enough that the question is a surprise. She shrugs. It’s ok, she tells herself. He’s her friend and that’s more than enough. She’ll love him forever for it no matter how else her traitorous heart might behave.

“Boring. Helped Kyrell’s squadron distribute aid for a while, and then we took out the last holdout cell. It was never a huge operation. That ring had maybe a dozen ships.”

“Boring is good.”

“Mm. How about you?”

“A little less boring, but I can’t… it’s classified, sorry.”

She knows he’s not brushing her off. She wishes there was something he could tell her, if only to keep hearing his voice after so long, but she’s used to that answer. So she takes another sip of her tea and tries to remember anything that’s happened. Anything she could say to make him smile.

“How is Kay?” Is what she settles on. “Did he finish that spite-project of his?”

“His language? He did, and Threepio is suitably bothered.”

“Good.”

“What’s better though - the princess caught wind of it and now she’s trying to figure out if we could work it into a code. So all the droids might have to learn it, not just Threepio.”

It was the right topic. Casisian’s lit up as he tells her about this, all the little details he knows. She finishes her tea before she has time to realize it, and her exhaustion really is starting to catch up with her, but it’s not until Cassian stands up that she gives any of that a moment’s thought.

“You should get to bed,” he says, crouching down to fish his clothes out from the drawer under his bed. “You have six hours ‘til lunch and if you’re late I’m not saving you caf.”

“Mean,” she grumbles, pulling her blankets up off the floor and setting an alarm on her datapad while he takes out a towel. She hears Cassian turn on the shower as she lays down. She’s asleep before it shuts off.

*

Jyn would not consider herself a morning person. Not that it’s truly morning when her alarm goes off at half-after noon, but that’s just a technicality. She tells herself it’s better for her sleep cycle to get up now, and go back to bed at a more normal hour, but really it’s only her plan with Cassian that gets her properly awake.

Alarm still blaring, she reaches under the bed to grab the first set of clothes she can reach. She sits up, stretches, and reaches to turn it off.

And stops.

There’s a piece of flimsi on her datapad.

Confused, she reaches for it. She talked to Cassian only hours ago, and she’ll see him soon, so why would he need to leave her a letter now?

Unless he couldn’t meet her. If he was sent off for another op, if he’s going to be gone for weeks, but no. He’d have woken her if he had to leave. He wouldn’t leave without a goodbye.

She unfolds the note, worried. Something must be wrong.

Jyn, it begins, and that’s new. She likes the way her name looks in his small, tidy writing.

Jyn,

I’m glad you’re  home. I really have missed you. So much.

There’s something I want you to know. I never planned to tell you but [word(s) scribbled out] I think I see things a little differently now. I should have waited until I saw you at lunch but I think this may be easier in writing.

I won’t waste time. I love you. You know that already, you must. You mean so much to me and I don’t want to imagine my life without you. But it’s more than that, I’m in love with you. I was never going to bring it up but something this morning [word(s) scribbled out] [word(s) scribbled out]. I can’t explain it.

If I’m right, if you want what I do, forgive me for doing this the coward’s way and let me be yours. If I’m wrong, [word(s) scribbled out] I’m so sorry. Please, please, let me down softly and I’ll never bring this up again. We can forget about it, I’ll get over myself, just let me be in your life. I had to tell you. I love you. I’m sorry.

Jyn stares down at the words on the page.

It doesn’t compute.

Not the first time, barely the second time.

Let me be yours.

Jyn puts the letter down after her fourth time reading it, only to pick it right back up again.  She takes a deep breath, forcing her mind into a facsimile of calm and tries to think logically. 

Everything she’s hardly realized she wanted. More.

He…

He loves her.

Cassian loves her. And by now he’s probably sitting in the mess wondering if she’ll show up. Assuming the worst, if she knows him at all.

He loves her.

Luckily, there’s something she can do about that.

[sylvie-writes]

Lonely Weekend

a/n: this one is quite the rollercoaster. also a quick psa.

A. I’ve never written for Ari Levinson nor have I seen the movie sooooo...

B. I just wrote this to give y’all a little something and it’s not rlly proofread.

C. And finally, yes this is another Kacey Musgraves song. Just feedin my addiction.

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely feelin' without you

 It had been a few months since you’d seen Ari. Almost every night, you’d try to call him despite the crazy difference in time that separated you both. Unfortunately, four out of the seven times you would call, the answer dial would echo in your ear. With a defeated sigh, you’d place the handset back on the receiver, going back to whatever was keeping you busy at the time.

 About a month ago, Ari had called you, catching you off guard as he was never the one to initiate the call.

 “Guess what, sweetheart! I’m coming home!”

 His words brought tears of joy to your eyes, causing your pitiful sniffles to travel through the phone.

 “Oh sweet girl, don’t cry! I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

 After the longest four days of your life, you dashed out of work and straight to the airport. You waited and waited at the terminal for an eternity, puffs of smoke suffocating your nostrils and loudly spoken words surrounding your mind. When you caught sight of Ari’s gorgeous face, all of the nuisances from before didn’t matter, and you practically ran through the crowd of exiting passengers just to run into his arms. 

 Ari chuckled and dropped his bags, spinning you around in his arms and ignoring the annoyed huffs of the remaining passengers who were trying to pass you both. He pressed his lips against yours in a kiss you both savored. 

For a good month, everything seemed right as rain between you and Ari. Things honestly couldn’t have gone better, yet when you and Ari started to fall apart, it happened in small and unnoticeable increments. 

 Monday, I was gone, and Tuesday, you were working late

Wednesday went to hell, and Thursday kinda had the wait, yeah

So far everything imaginable that could go wrong, went wrong this very week. Reality hit you like a freight train, knocking you out of your blissful little bubble with Ari. 

Monday, you had left for a business meeting a few hours away, something you honestly didn’t want to show up for. You spent more time driving than you did in the actual meeting, which was aggravating as they could have sent someone else in your place. You went home that night, hoping to have Ari hold you in his arms, yet he was knocked out cold in bed and you didn’t want to bother him. 

The next day, Ari had gone into work as you stayed home, the two of you switching places pretty much. Around noon, Ari had called, saying he’d be working late. It did hurt you just a bit as you had planned a nice dinner for the man. You had even spent all morning preparing food and such. On the phone, you acted as if everything was okay, but this was the last straw and you broke down into tears. 

Wednesday, you got some news that you had been laid off. It seemed so surreal and you were just a walking zombie for the rest of the day. The most you had said all day was “yeah.” Ari was a bit worried, but he gave you your space and allowed you to carry on. If only he had seen how broken you were before he rushed out to work.

You spent a majority of Thursday in a weird funk, after all you had been laid off for heaven knows how long. It wasn’t that you were displaying anger or sadness, you were just numb, a blank expression on your face as you went along. Ari had left early that morning and you hadn’t even noticed to be honest. Actually, you hadn’t even noticed it was Thursday yet. 

 Friday, you were leavin', goin' out of town again

I should see what's goin' on, only got a couple friends

“Hey sunshine, how are you feelin?”

 Ari kissed your bare shoulder as you continued to wash the dishes, a small smile on your face. The man wrapped his arms around your waist, placing kisses up your neck, his beard tickling you slightly. Yesterday, you eventually cried out all of your feelings and just accepted your fate as it was handed to you on a silver platter. Now, you were just happy to spend some time with Ari.

 You quickly dried your hands on a dish towel and turned in his embrace, running your hands through his long hair. 

 “Oh Ari. What are we going to do, my love?”

 He sighed and placed a gentle kiss on your nose.

 “We will figure it out, Sweets.” 

 Ari pulled you closer to his chest, resting his lips by your ear.

 “Oh honey, I hate to do this to you, but I have to leave. Tonight.”

 Your heart stopped for a minute and you just nodded, some silent tears streaming down your face and onto his neck. Ari felt terrible, but there was nothing he could say or do that would help. Instead, he just rocked you in his arms until you started to nod off on his shoulder. Gently, he scooped you and took you to bed. Ari had to leave in a few hours, so he dedicated to join you under the covers, spooning your fragile body, much tinier in comparison to his broad physique. 

 It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend (so lonely)

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely feelin' without you

  Ari left that night as he had said, kissing you with a passion and then leaving, being pulled away by work. You stayed curled up in bed, even changing into Ari’s most recent tee shirt, snuggling up into his pillow as well. Needless to say, you wished he was there with you. Being in his arms felt like nothing could get to you, whether that be bad news or bad friends. You felt protected and loved when you were with Ari. 

 Guess everybody else is out tonight (out tonight)

Guess I'm hangin' by myself, but I don't mind (I don't mind)

Saturday rolled around and you were yet to hear from Ari. He should have called you as he was still in America, just a week long business trip, that’s all. You moped along, pulling yourself together even though there was nothing to do. Your friends that lived in town were most likely busy, after all it was the weekend and you should have been busy too. It did get a bit depressing when your negative thoughts were the only thing keeping you company. They made you realize that you were going to be all alone when you needed people the most. 

 It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend, yeah

I got a million things to do, but I haven't done a single one, no

And if my sister lived in town, I know that we'd be doin' something fun

 Some would say you had responsibilities to take care of, but you honestly didn’t feel like doing any of them. None of those chores involved seeing your loved ones, instead leaving you subject to the degrading voices in your head. One thing was for sure, and that was you weren’t going to be tending to those at the moment. With nothing to do, you tried calling your sister, the one who always made your day, just by a simple phone call. Unfortunately, just like Ari, when you needed her most, she wasn’t there to answer. 

 I keep lookin' at my phone, puttin' it back down

There's a little part of me that's got the fear of missin' out, and

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend (so lonely)

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely feelin' without you

 You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone as if it would ring from intimidation. Minutes passed and no one called. The little part of you that had hope was crushed and you just leaned back onto the bed, sighing that no one called. Maybe they had forgotten about you. At least that is what your thoughts left you to believe. You knew they weren’t most likely true, so you just shut your eyes, hoping to take a nap and drift off to some lovely dreamland.

 I guess everybody else is out tonight (out tonight)

Guess I'm hangin' by myself, but I don't mind (I don't mind)

 Everyone was gone, out having fun. You had yourself, and that was enough for now.

You could manage, you’d done it before. But it was different now. Things were tough and you wanted someone to talk to.

But all you had was you and that was enough.

 Right?

 It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend, yeah

Even if you got somebody on your mind

It's alright to be alone sometimes, sometimes

 Ari was on your mind, even when you woke from your nap, he was still there. His adorable smile engraved into your mind. You woke up, seeing the sun had set and it was not around nine. With a bit of a fresh mindset, you left the bed and moved to the couch. To pass time, you decided to learn solitaire. It was a last resort, but it was better than taking another nap.

 It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend (so lonely)

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely feelin' without you

I guess everybody else is out tonight (out tonight)

Guess I'm hangin' by myself, but I don't mind (I don't mind)

 After spending an hour attempting to learn solitaire, you tiredly gave up and turned to the tv, flipping through the channels looking for any form of entertainment. As you did so the front door creaked open, although you had just assumed the sound was on tv. Suddenly, a warm hand ran over your sweater clad arm, making you jump in your seat. You snapped your head in the culprit’s direction, your stern expression softening when you saw Ari’s bright smile. His face was illuminated by the tv’s light giving you a clear pathway to his lips. In no time, you crashed your lips against his, grabbing at his shirt and practically pulling his upper half over the back of the couch. Ari pulled back laughing, taking one hand to smooth your hair as you lovingly gazed up at him.

 The man swung his legs over the couch in a swift jumping movement. You giggled at his actions, pulling yourself into his lap for a much needed hug. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

 It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend

It's a lo, it's a lo, it's a lonely weekend

 Or so you had thought...

[skepticallysound]

A short story that I’m taking name suggestions for?

I didn’t turn around, because I knew that if I did all I would see is her face, screwed up in pain. Maybe she’d be on her knees, sobbing. I don’t know, because I didn’t look back. I wanted to. Oh, god, how I wanted to turn around and see her one more time, I recalled how her face dropped when I told her; I know I would cherish that last memory of her face forever. It was senior year and we’d both be going off to college next year, so that was the end. We always talked about spending these last few months together, before I left for Yale and she went to UCLA, but I guess my parents had something else in mind. My parents. That was it, they were the problem. I was angry at them, understandably, but they were still my parents. I needed them. I didn’t need her. Just wanted her really, really, really badly. When I finally got home I called Mick. He picked up right away. “Hey, I was just gonna call you. Wanna go get some pizza or something?” I let out a sob. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?”, Mick asked.

I tried to explain but I was crying too hard for him to even understand what I was saying. “Ok, it’s ok. I’ll be there in ten.” That was Mick. Reliable. Caring. The best friend I ever had. I can’t even imagine my life without him, we’re basically like siblings. And of course we’ve had the moment where he confessed his love to me - because we’re a boy and a girl, we have to be romantically involved right? It went something like this:

“Jess, I like you. I have for a little while now and I just thought you should know.”

“Mick, I like girls.”

“Oh… Ok. Never mind then.”

And that was that. He was great. Anyway, he came over and found me curled up in a ball in my bed under my covers. “What’s happened, love?”

“I broke up with Alisha.” I cried.

“Oh, honey. Why?” He cooed. He was good like that, supportive.

“Because, because -“ It was at this moment that I realized it was a very stupid reason, probably one of the worst ever, in fact. I started crying even harder.

“Ok, it’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it.”

And like that we stayed for quite some time, him holding me, stroking my hair and me, bawling, unable to speak.

Of course, eventually Mick had to leave. My mom came home and although both my parents adore him, it was also getting late and, like I said, boy and girl. So, no sleepovers allowed - stupid rule if you ask me, especially since I had come out, like obviously I don’t want to have sex with him now, surely you understand that. But no, my parents are very much the “Oh, this is just a phase” type of people. So, no sleepovers. Mick told me to text him if I need anything. He knew how to sneak into my window and he told me that he would bring ice cream or Kit-Kats - my favourite chocolate - in a heartbeat. My mom asked what that was about. I hesitated. I loved my mom, but, she didn’t really get me. She tried really hard, I have to give her credit, but her life was so different from mine and she just really didn’t get what it was like for me. Plus the whole lesbian thing, but we’ve already covered that. I decided to tell her. “I broke up with Alisha.”

“Oh, honey. That’s tough… but I really think this is for the best.” She hugged me. Best my ass. “If you need anything, let me know. I love you.” She let go and kissed me on the forehead. I went back up to my room. I felt like throwing up. I probably grabbed my phone to text Alisha about a thousand times, even typing out what I wanted to say. “Hey, I’m so sorry. It was a huge mistake, can you forgive me?” But I never sent them, it wasn’t fair to her. I break up with her and then a couple hours later change my mind? Bullshit. So, I laid in bed. Eventually, the tears stopped, and all I felt was numb. Right about now, all I wanted was a big hug from my dad and a deep talk from my mom, but my dad wasn’t home yet and my mom wouldn’t really want to get into the depths of my relationship with Alisha. Slowly, the sweet release of sleep came over me as I blasted my music, and I drifted off dreaming of her. Her gorgeous chocolate eyes and dark brown skin. The way she used to straighten her hair everyday in eighth grade because she “thought it looked better” but eventually left it natural most of the time from tenth grade on because she finally started to believe me when I told her it was beautiful. If it wasn’t clear already, Alisha and I were friends. Good friends. Not quite Mick and I good, but good. It’s kinda funny, because normally the two girls are the best friends and the guy and the girl fall in love, but this time the guy and the girl were the friends and the two girls fell in love. So, yeah, we were friends. And I loved her as my friend, but I always thought she was beautiful. Honestly, she was a big part of my sexual awakening, I never really realized that thinking other girls were pretty wasn’t normal, especially because my one girl friend that I talked to about it was also into girls, so, I guess neither of us really realized we were not straight for a while. It took me talking to my sister to figure it out. I remember we were both on instagram and she showed me this picture of this girl and said something like “Ugh, her stomach is so flat. Why can’t I look like that?” Which is total bullshit to begin with because my sister is hot - it runs in the family, I guess. But then I said something like “Holy shit, I’d [Insert sexual comment here]” which got a very strange look from Paige, my sister, and I thought ‘Huh, maybe that’s not normal.’ So, yeah. After that, Alisha and I started dating, we dated halfway through grade 11 through until the end of senior year. At first, I kept it a secret from my parents, and she understood that. Coming out was not an easy thing for me, for Alisha though… lets just say, she had a very different relationship with her parents. They were much more accepting than mine, but also much more strict when it came to some things. Like, for example, when they did find out we were dating, her parents did not let us go into her room, in fact, they barely let us stay at her house alone, ever. My parents, on the other hand, didn’t really care about that as much. Even when my sister brings her boyfriend over, they’re allowed in her room. So, it’s a bit of a different dynamic between her and I. When I did finally come out to my parents, I wasn’t shunned or anything, but I wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms either. I got a lot of “I’m sure you feel that way now,” and “Theres nothing wrong with experimenting.” But it was clear that they either didn’t think this was a lasting thing, or hoped that it wasn’t going to be.

The next day when I woke up, I had a text from Alisha. I bolted upright in bed and opened my phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?” It read. Why didn’t I stay up? I hated myself for a moment, then I looked at the time stamp. 4:32 am. I wouldn’t have been awake anyway, but I felt terrible because I felt like I was the reason she was up that late. Of course, Alisha was always one to stay up late. I, on the other hand, was much more sensible, usually going to bed by 11:00 or 11:30. I texted her back “Of course. Whats up?”. I sat and waited for a minute. Nothing. I felt the tears coming back. Then, a text from Mick came in: “How ya feeling?” Not great. I send him the crying emoji and the puking emoji. “That good, huh? Want me to come?” Theres that reliability again.

“No, I’ll be ok. Thanks though.”

“Anytime, and I’m still here if you need.” I don’t need to reply to this one, Mick and I are very low communication type of friends. I flip back to my chat with Alisha. Still nothing. Then the text bubbles appear, and disappear again. I wait, but they don’t reappear. More tears. I fling my phone across my bed, watching it bounce and then land on the pillow. My sister comes in. I hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning. She understands what goes on in my house better than anyone, even Mick. I guess Mom told her what happened because she didn’t say anything, she just came over and sat with me.

“Was it because of them?”

I nodded. Again, unable to speak.

“You shouldn’t let Mom and Dad dictate your life. I know theres a lot they have control over, Jess, but not this. They don’t get to decide who you love.” She was always more independent than I am, and even though she didn’t quite have this exact problem, she understood. I loved her for that. I gave her a smile and she kissed me on the cheek and left. I felt a vibration through my bed. I sat up and flipped over my phone, Alisha had finally texted. “Sorry. I just need to know why…Did I do something?” I was in shock. I can’t believe I didn’t even tell her why. I am such a horrible person.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t you at all. It was -“ I hesitated. I felt stupid. It was still a dumb reason. “It was because of my parents. And I feel so stupid. I shouldn’t let them control my life.” My finger hovered over the send button, and eventually it fell. My stomach dropped.

“So, what are you saying?” She replied, almost immediately.

“I’m saying that” I sent that first, that way I couldn’t back out of it. “I’m sorry, and it was a huge mistake.”

My phone started buzzing, she was calling me. I took a deep breath and tried to make it sound like I wasn’t crying. God knows why, but I did.

“Hi.” I exhaled

“Hi.” She replied. “Sorry to call. It’s just-“

“You hate texting, I know.” I finished for her. After all, I did know her very well, we had been friends for four years and dated for two of them.

“So, look. I know you and your parents have a rough relationship, but I just don’t understand why you broke up with me.”

“Like I said, it was stupid. I just felt like, I don’t know, they were starting to resent me for our relationship.”

“Oh. Well, how did you feel?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I felt like you were one of the best things that ever happened to me.” There was no reply, so I continued, “And I feel like and idiot for ending things with you.” I waited.

“Jess, I-I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what to say.”

“I get that. I know you’re probably mad at me. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“No. I don’t want that. I want the opposite, but how can I know that you won’t do this to me again?”

“You don’t, but I can make a promise to you that I have seen the error in my ways, and if you want me back, I’m yours, with the promise that this wont happen again.”

“The point is, Jess, that if you didn’t want to end it you shouldn’t have." “I know! I know I shouldn’t have. So, of course I want you back, but if that’s not what you want then I completely understand.”

“Give me some time to think.”

“Of course!”

“Ok… Bye.”

“Bye.” There was a moment while neither of us hung up and I could hear her take a couple breaths in, then the line disconnected. I took a deep breath and felt, renewed? I just hoped she would understand that I knew how much of an idiot I was and that I never wanted to hurt her like this again.

The next day, Alisha texted me asking if we could meet for coffee. I replied right away. “3 at our spot?” She asked. “Sounds good.” I replied. I looked at the clock, 1:43pm. Only another hour to wait, I quickly hopped in the shower and then picked out my bright yellow top and paired it with my solid light blue palazzo pants. Alisha always talked about how much she loved this shirt. I put on my makeup and got in my car and drove to Liz’s Coffee House. This was “our spot”, where we had our first real date, all our hangouts, we went here all the time. I got there and checked my phone. 2:54pm. Perfect. I went in and walked towards our usual table, Alisha was already sitting there, she clearly made as much of an effort as I had. Her hair was down, the way I liked it best, and she was wearing her green off the shoulder shirt and black shorts. God, she was hot. I sat down and she pushed a coffee cup towards me. “I got you your usual.”

“Thanks.” I blushed, half surprised she did that, but then remembering Alisha, feeling more surprised that I was surprised she did that. “So,” I opened

“So.” She let it hang in the air for a minute. “I still like you.” “I still like you too.” I couldn’t meet her gaze, but I felt it on me.

“Then, as long as you follow through on your promise and don’t do anything stupid again…” I managed to look up at her.

“You have my word.” I giggled

“Good. Then we’re good.” She beamed. I let out a sigh and beamed back at her.

So, Alisha and I kept dating. In my head, it was just a few more months but Alisha said that she felt like it was a few more months she could spend with a girl she had the most fun she’d ever had in her life with, and I had to agree. So, a few more months until we would have to say goodbye again. We weren’t thinking about that, though. We were just focusing on us and now.

[mojofun]

How to chat up pretty gals - A manual by Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Hello there. This is for @summer-writes​​​; the prompt was “I’m not an assassin, but I want to take you out” “After that, I kinda wish you were”. It’s part of my small celebration for hitting 100 followers, which I’m still thrilled about; I met so many nice people here on Tumblr.

That being said, the request thing is still on if anyone wants to participate.

This story is fluff

(He’s making sure he looks good before his date with Y/N :3)

Enjoy :)

                                      _________________________________

<<So, what do we have here?>>

<<A man, found dead this morning by->>

<<Yes Anderson, thank you for your valuable contribution. I’ll see for myself now>> Sherlock dismissed the other man, pushing past him and walking toward the body on the bed. John did not even try to apologise for him: both he and Anderson himself knew it would be pointless, a mere pretence.

The detective crushed beside the corpse, pulling out his lens to examine the scene up close. His inseparable companion slowly approached to give the body a once over

<<Livid complexion, yellowish scleras, rigidity in the sims… All telltale signs of->>

<<Poisoning>> A female voice interrupted the army doctor.

Everyone in the room turned to look at the newcomer.

It was a young woman dressed in semi-formal clothes, a Tyvek sterile suit in her hand; she had H/L H/C hair, E/C eyes and S/C skin. The smirk on her lips alone told them she was sure of her deduction.

John agreed immediately

<<Precisely. And you are?>>

<<This is Y/N Y/S>> Lestrade answered for her while she donned the protective covering <<She is the district’s rookie, fresh out of college with a degree in Criminology>>

<<Nice to meet you>> John greeted. She gave a curt wave and immediately got down to business, squatting beside Sherlock to inspect the victim

<<Damn,>> John murmured <<she already behaves like Sherlock>>

It was Sherlock who was not behaving like Sherlock.

Much to the amazement of everybody else, he simply observed Y/N do what she had to, admiring her concentration and her no-nonsense attitude.

When she was done she stood up, dusting off her knees

<<Sherlock?>> Lestrade called <<Don’t you have anything to say?>>

<<Uh? Oh, yes, of course. John, did you notice anything unusual?>>

<<Well, from my first check I can say that the cause of death is snakebi->>

<<It’s not a snakebite>> Y/N interrupted with a monotone voice.

The curly detective glanced at her in a strange mix of amazement and pride: he was expecting her to correct John, but part of him didn’t think she would notice

<<What?>>

<<It is not a snakebite, Dr Watson. Your colleague did not allow you to look very close, but if you did you would have noticed the disposition of the two punctures.

The discolouration around the wounds is not very different, meaning the second one was inflicted almost immediately after the first>> The girl beckoned him closer, pointing at one of the small holes in the victim’s neck <<What do you see?>>

<<The one on the left is deeper, more scraped than the other>>

<<So?>>

<<It was made before>>

<<Precisely. The victim probably put up resistance, hence the greater damage.

I think we have to go through the list of people invited to the party, see if there is anyone whose profession or hobbies entail knowledge of snakes and poison. Speaking of which, where are the animals kept now?>>

<<You mean the victim’s collections of reptiles?>> Anderson asked

<<Obviously>> She huffed

<<They’re at the police station; Sherlock suggested they could be evidence>>

Y/N grinned, looking at the lanky man

<<Excellent. I’m going to pay them a visit now. See you later!>>

<<Wait, Y/N! Aren’t you going to tell us anything?>>

The woman smirked

<<Oh, I think Mr Holmes may have an inkling of what is going on. Bye!>>

That said she ran out of the building, leaving them all in awe.

Lestrade, like everybody else, turned to look at Sherlock, silently begging him for answers

<<The victim likely knew the assassin, or they wouldn’t have ended up in his room.

We have to examine the list of guests and staff from yesterday’s party, see if we find someone experienced with poisonous animals, as Y/N said>>

He had a hard time saying those words; he just couldn’t believe that someone could have reasoned brilliantly and rapidly enough to be at his same level

<<So… She was right?>> John questioned, half smug half incredulous

<<Yes, she was>>

It was the first time something like that happened to Sherlock, and he was incredibly fascinated by the most talented newbie in the Yard.

                                    _________________________________

Months passed.

The case was solved in a couple of days thanks to the combined brains of the Baker Street sleuth and Y/N. Sherlock and John found themselves crossing paths with her more and more often, but they were both far from displeased about it. The doctor was intrigued by her talent, like his roommate, but he also considerably enjoyed seeing her keeping Sherlock on his toes.

Much to the famed detective’s annoyance, he’d grown smitten with the H/C-officer: she had beauty, brains and a tongue sharp enough to cut him. On top of that, she was well-versed in many subjects, and she kept up with him spewing theories with no difficulty.

He was stumped.

He’d tried talking to her, even flirting -just the thought made him cringe- with her, but he had no idea what he was doing.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat, was reduced to a teenage boy with a major crush, and he hated it.

That was how he ended up hiding in the living room at three in the morning, praying that John wouldn’t catch him red-handed while he looked up some tips on how to “chat up pretty gals”, according to the page he was currently scrolling through.

The brunette had winced violently when he first read that title. Nevertheless, that was how he went about things: research. He was treating it like a case, and he wanted to be prepared when he met Y/N again for a new case- which, according to the clock, would be in less than four hours.

He would need coffee. The website said a nice gesture would help his case, so maybe he could get one for her, too.

He already knew how she liked it.

                                    _________________________________

<<It was the babysitter?>>

 <<Yes>>

 <<With a knife>>

<<Obviously>>

<<In the living room>>

<<What, are we playing Cluedo?>> Y/N cried out.

They had solved another case in a matter of hours, and he was now accompanying her to the police station to write the report

<<John never wants to play that game with me>> He mumbled

<<I can see why>> The girl snickered.

He couldn’t help but notice she looked adorable when she smiled.

Suddenly, he stopped walking

<<Sherlock?>>

Yes, they’d somehow gotten to a first-name basis, which was a huge success- as far as he knew

<<Y/N, I have to tell you something>>

<<What’s wrong? You are making me worry>>

<<Nothing is wrong, doll>>

The woman’s eyes widened

<<Doll?>>

<<Do you prefer darling? Honey? Babe?>>

<<B- Ba- Babe?!>> She sputtered.

The detective went on with his tirade

<<I did some research. According to the pages I visited, when you like a woman you need to call her “pet names”>>

<<When you- Like- P- Pet names!?>>

<<And use pickup lines>>

<<Pickup lines? What the->>

<<Yes, so I chose one. Y/N?>>

The poor girl was extremely puzzled, but she went along with it

<<Yes, Sherlock?>>

<<I’m not an assassin, but I want to take you out>>

For a few moments, all was silent.

Sherlock was anxiously awaiting her reaction, even a small sign.

Then, out of the blue, she began giggling; it soon turned into a belly laugh, with tears streaming from her eyes as she held her stomach

<<Oh- Oh my- Oh my gosh!>>

The brown-haired man stood beside her, patiently waiting for her to calm down; it took more than he expected, but he did not complain.

When her laughter finally dwindled and eventually stopped, she wiped her cheeks and looked at him, shaking her head in amusement

<<Oh, Sherlock… After that, I kinda wish you were>>

<<What? It wasn’t good?>>

He frowned. The girl moved closer to him, taking his hands in hers

<<Listen, you brilliant fool… You don’t need all that to impress me>>

<<I don’t?>>

<<Not at all. I’m already impressed by how smart you are, the way you solve cases>>

The man finally smiled, lightly squeezing her hands, but then he furrowed his brow again

<<Y/N?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<If that’s not the right way to “chat up pretty gals”->> They both cringed, and she barely suppressed a snort <<how should I do it?>>

Y/N blushed, but she did not lose her smile

<<Well, Mr Holmes… Bringing me coffee was a good move, and this… This was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, I have to admit, however cringe-worthy it may have been>>

Sherlock’s grin broadened

<<However, do you know what I would like even more?>>

<<What is it, doll?>>

<<Mh, doll… I could get used to that>>

Without warning, she grabbed the lapels of his inseparable coat and pulled him closer, cementing their lips together; Sherlock’s eyes widened, but he relaxed almost instantly and tightened his arms around her.

He found it surprisingly enjoyable, and she was not complaining so he assumed she did, too.

When they pulled away Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks even redder

<<Mh, doll… I could get used to that>> She giggled

<<I would love it if you did this more often>>

<<Far be it from me to deny a pretty dame her desire>>

<<Sherlock?>>

<<Yes, doll?>>

<<Stop with the dumb nicknames and kiss me again>>

<<Gladly>>

After another kiss, he gave her a wicked grin

<<Mh, it becomes more pleasant the more we do it>>

<<Then I suggest we keep experimenting>>

<<I second the motion>>

Their lips met again, and their arms wrapped around the other in a vice-like grip.

                                    _________________________________

A few feet away, sitting at a table outside a café, Lestrade slid a tenner toward John, who pocketed it smugly

<<It’s a pleasure to do business with you>>

<<Bloody hell, there’s three of them now>>

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

*

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

*

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

*

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

*

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

*

Everything is the same.

*

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

*

Everything is the same.

*

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

*

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC ≽ VII.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.2k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

All I wanted was to be accepted for who I was. At some point, I had realized I was the only one who could give myself that recognition. So why did I continue to search for the approval of others? Was it hardwired into my brain, or did I have something left to prove? 

"Do you mind if we talk?"

I didn't know the answer, but I figured it all started with him.

Namjoon had neared my side. He only stood steps away from where I was seated. The distance granted me space from his overwhelming presence. He became cautious after our last conversation. He was well aware of what he could provoke in me- it was heaven or hell.  

"I suppose we have to," I replied. 

It wasn't until he moved in front of me, that I laid my eyes upon him, for the first time today. A flash of the night before filled my mind, for a moment only. How he stood, surrounded by the other members, in the middle of that driveway. He was a separate man, now, in front of me. 

Namjoon took the seat his mother had been in, moments before. His arm was leaning, and his elbow was resting on the wooden surface of the bar. We both wondered, not only of how this would end, but how it would begin.

"Is there something between Jimin and you?" 

I wasn't expecting it to begin like this. 

"What are you talking about?" The concept seemed so foreign. Jimin was more like a brother to me than Namjoon ever was. 

"C'mon, babe, you can't tell me you haven't noticed." My cluelessness brought a smirk to his face. It was the kind of sneer that deepened the dimple on that side of his mouth.  

"Jimin and I have been friends since we were nine years old." I reminded him. "What happened yesterday was only because he was worried about me." 

Something in my words brought Namjoon's expression to shift. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, wiping away the smirk that rested there before. He leaned in as if he wanted to tell me a secret.

"You don't think I was worried about you?" His voice was like silk with a little bit of roughness at the end. He almost sounded jealous. 

"If you were- you had a funny way of showing it." I challenged him with my tone. Raising my brow as he leaned back in consideration of my words. 

He knew I was right. 

Though, all I managed to do was create a new grin resting on that mug. Namjoon, still being cautious, decided to not pursue the subject further. 

"You know... when I called you that day," Namjoon's eyes darted to the ground, a shyness taking over his confidence. "I couldn't stay on the phone- I was actually scared of what you might say to me."

"I wouldn't have known what to say anyway," I answered honestly. 

It wasn't like Namjoon to be so exposed. In others, this might have been a sign of trust and sincerity, but my trauma forced me to suspect him. 

"The entire day, I was thinking of what you coming home would look like." Even though I wanted to believe that the nights of his eyes didn't lie. "How things would work out between us, after everything."

The entire way to Blackburn, he was all I could think about, finding out that he was doing the same was unexpected. 

"Is it like you imagined?" I was interested to know.

"It is..." He smiled, thinking about what he only knew. "And it isn't,"

My eyes hadn't left his, even when he looked away, I continued observing. I pressed on, expecting that he would give me more detail than that. Namjoon was silent for a moment, pushing through his smile to speak. 

"I expected some of the fights," He admitted with a bit of laughter. "You put me in my place- never letting me get away with anything." 

He joked about it now. However, that wasn't the case during the actual arguments. I supposed certain things hadn't changed in our dynamic. Whether that was a good or bad thing was still up for debate. 

"But then there's... you." He said haltingly, seeming uncertain on how to explain what he intended. "I mean, I'm just the same guy- wearing the same cut. But you..."

The delivery of his voice mellowed when he drew his eyes back to mine. For a second, his black orbs resembled a raw umber color before he spoke.

"You're different," He held my gaze in his, I didn't notice him reaching for my lone hand until his skin was already brushing against mine. "Somehow... better than before."

"I'm..." I lingered on the thought. Namjoon's fingers ventured to weave themself between my own. "I'm not so sure about that." 

His fingertips were like fire that ignited my skin. I wanted to pull away from the flame, but it sent a rush straight to my chest. It was like passion, that could come in any form, anger or lust. 

"I am," He stated without hesitating. His eyes shifted down to where we met. His fingers were still caressing mine, which remained motionless. 

"When you came home it was like a sign to me- an opportunity to do things differently." 

 I felt nothing but right when he spoke to me like this. He was familiar and everything that I used to want. 

"I can't help but feel this is some kind of second chance."

But I knew better than to trust in a man like him, I knew better than to fall for his sweet words. Men like him, if you believed in their lies, they would eat you alive. He'll love me and leave me for dead. 

When my fingertips moved to return his attention, Namjoon looked up at me. The details of his expression had become clear in my line of sight. The skin of his full face and the texture of his plump lips. 

"I think you're smart," I hesitated as the words caught in my throat. "And I believe you do as much good as you can,"

I could see the color fading from his eyes, turning back into that dark abyss I knew so well. "But I spoke with your mother, and I think we're both just going through a confusing time right now."

The second I mentioned his mother, a scoff left his mouth. He was out of his seat before I finished the sentence. 

Namjoon pushed through his black hair, finding a way to contain the perplexity of my words. My shoulders curled in as I watched him place his hands on his hips. I already knew, not so nice things were going to leave his mouth. 

"Don't you get tired of it?" The smile on his face was not true. "Running away from everything?"

His feet were wondering, and I rose to mine at his accusation. 

"I'm not running from anything," I spoke, moving to find his face once again. I stepped in front of him, and he refused to look at me. "I'm just being realistic, Namjoon." 

His eyes were still looking off to the ground, I pushed myself forward, shoving my hands at his shoulder for his attention. He was a six-foot child in front of me. 

"Do you know why you can't ever be sure? Why you always have those doubts floating in your head?" He asked aggressively, now turning to look me dead in the eye, and I was afraid. 

"Because you listen to everyone! Those voices in your head-" He almost stepped on my feet, quickly tapping his fingers into the temple of my left side. "Are your old man, my mother, and anyone else trying to tell you how to live!" 

His stare was full of bitterness. I felt his breath over me as he yelled. I didn't know whether to return the response or begin to cry. 

"The (Y/n), that I knew, did whatever felt right!" He offended me with the person I once was." She knew what she wanted- did whatever it took to get it, regardless of the consequences!" 

I both yelled and cried.

"Well, I'm not her anymore!"

My father made sure of that, tears glossed over my eyes, and my voice strained at the new pitch. He stopped his speaking, pressing his lips inward at the statement. 

"If I was so goddamn special- why didn't you ever come to find me!?" The waterworks pooled around my eyes and trailed off my cheeks. The drops of pain stained the floor between us. 

"Why did you just leave me there to rot!?" 

I didn't leave or turn away like I wanted to. I wanted his answer, the truth that I deserved to know. That familiar look of guilt on his face was clear, but it was mixed with a self-hate I had never seen in him before. 

"Because I was afraid," 

He declared shamefully. "It killed me to know you were less than ten hours away- I wasn't man enough to do anything about it then."

The years had been cruel to me and I could not let them go. I tried and tried to find the person inside of me who was better, who had overcome the misery. However, the more I searched, the more I was sure that she did not exist. 

It had been seven years and four months without him, seven years and four months that I hadn't seen his face. Even though I had not been happy, I learned to live without him and without the life. Now after all this time, what could I say to a king, who wanted to give me everything?

"There is nothing left,”

I couldn't look any longer into those black orbs; they only ever showed me what I could not bear to face. I turned away, even with nowhere left to go. 

The sound of a table crashing to the floor didn't even phase me as I walked away. I left him standing there in the middle of the bar, where my first mistake happened all those years ago. 

"Do you know how many women I've been with since you left?!" Namjoon yelled behind me but I didn't dare look. He was verbally reaching to bring me back, keep me in his hold of endeavor. 

"Hundreds- maybe more! I don't even know."

I felt his steps echo behind mine as I made my way toward the back of the bar. Even with the tears blurring my vision and the weight of the fight bearing in my body, I knew the way to the bedroom where I remained. 

"(Y/n)!" He called after me. 

The door had been left shut, which hindered me from swiftly seeking shelter inside. The moment I paused to reach for the door handle, Namjoon lunged and crossed his arm in my way. His tall figure was peering down at me, waiting for me to return his stare. 

when I did, it was barely, and all I could do was sigh. 

"I don't know because I barely see their faces." Namjoon's voice was lighter now that we were this close. His eyes looked into me, begging for me to hear him out.

"When I'm inside someone, there is only one face that I see..." Namjoon's hand appeared beside my face. His fingertips ghosted against my cheek, his hand resistant to touch me without permission. "That's yours- and I don't know how to get you out my head anymore."

He balled his hand into a light fist, taking in a breath of air and breaking our eye contact, before letting it fall to his side. Namjoon stepped back, his arm left the door wide open for me to run, but I did not. I didn't dare to move in the sway of his stare. My feet were like cement plastered to the wooden floor. 

"Just answer me this," His voice promised me it would be the last.

"What do you want?"

I came across this road time and time again, and still I remained sitting at its path. I was too far to see where I was going, but I had to trust it would lead me to where I was meant to be. 

"It's a simple question," Namjoon described. I could no longer look down that long path, I merely had to look at my next step. 

"It's not a simple answer," I replied in hesitation.

What did I want, right here- right now?

My heartbeat in reverse and cold sweats ran up my body. I was a junkie ready to relapse just by being close to him. I was dying to be set ablaze under his fire. I loved the chaos.

"I want you," I let myself realize. 

It all happened so fast.

The only thing I saw, were those large black eyes coming to pull me into the darkness. His body swallowed me whole. Every inch was encased between him and the wooden door. I swore my feet weren't even touching the ground anymore. He held me in the darkness, but every moment in there was a second of bliss.

His mouth was the friction to ignite my skin. It was a heatwave that spread across my being, rippling with the intensity of hot July. His hands seemed to embrace every inch of me. I felt as if my body was putty in his hands, he molded me anyway he wanted, and I loved it.  

His tongue brushed in and out of my mouth, gently pushing against my own. It was a battle in our mouths, one that he would forever win. Oxygen was lost in my breath, each attempt seemed shallow, as every touch brought me to gasp for more. He loved to hear my wavering breath and abandoned my lips for the trail along my neck to better listen. My hands, in the meantime, pushed up the material of his white tee. His leather cut kept me from removing it off his body, however, did not forbid my hands from wandering underneath. 

For the first time, in a long time, there was not a single shred of doubt in my mind. There was no question about it, no voice of reason or consequence. This is what I wanted, and so, this was what I was going to get. I almost felt like my old self again, and that was terrifying. 

At some point, he opened the door and carried me in his arms. My legs wrapped around his hips while he moved us to the center of the room, where the bed awaited. His mouth had not slowed down in exploring the parts of my skin that were revealed. One of my hands remained tucked under his shirt, while the other was hooked around his neck for security. 

Before I knew it, he had left me to fall, my body caught by the springy mattress underneath. A yelp slipped from my lips, moving to rid wild strands of hair from my eyesight. Namjoon's knees pressed against the edge of the mattress, he overlooked my figure, sprawled out on the bed for him. The light of the room lined with his head, casting his body into a silhouette of almost pure evil. He looked at me like a new toy and licked his lips as a result. My desire built in my veins, reaching every nerve of my being, a desire that was only for him. 

Without a single thought, we both raced to remove our clothing, which had become irritatingly restrictive. My fingers laced over my shirt, pushing the material over my head and flinging it somewhere over the room. I returned to see Namjoon had done the same, his white tee falling to the floor, where his leather cut had landed first. 

We met halfway to our kiss, our hands finding the newly unveiled skin of each other. Namjoon's weight pressed me back into the sheets, placed a knee in between my legs, and pushed his pelvis against my hip. The feeling of him growing hard against me made me shamelessly moan in his mouth.  

He chuckled deep in his chest, realizing how much I wanted him and how much he wanted me. His hands pushed down the cups of my bra, my straps slipping off with them, and my breast revealed shivering skin. My body had flushed with the heat of my blood, goosebumps erupting from his wet tongue. I pulled my arms out of the elastic straps and attained his head at my chest. My fingers ran through the front and back of his hair. I arched my back against him, gripping a fistful of hair, and watching as he took in my nipple in between his lips. 

I swallowed the sounds that wanted to leave my mouth. Namjoon's hands cupped my breasts as I pushed my hips against him. I couldn't get enough of his mouth, of his touch- like a true owner of my body he knew all that I wanted. We had waited for seven years and I could not wait for another second. 

I pulled his head away, held him in my hands, and brought him back to my lips. There, I kept him occupied while my hands were free to roam lower between us. My hand ran over the bulge in his jeans, His breath hitched in my mouth for a moment. His body shuddered over me as I ran my hand up and down his length. 

 "You're greedy..." Namjoon snickered when he didn't want to moan. I gripped him harder and watched his eyes darkened with lust. He shut his mouth trying to conceal with the grunt from his throat. "You're going to regret that," 

He warned me and smacked away my teasing touch. Namjoon returned on his knees and quickly undid the button of his jeans, the zipper coming off as he pulled them open. I also grew impatient with the blood boiling under my skin. I mimicked his actions with my own pants also, unhooking my bra in the process. 

Left in only his boxer briefs, Namjoon was ready to devour me once again. However, before he could, I set forth and placed my hands on his bare chest. 

"Hold on..." I said, taking a moment to get lost under the toned skin of his torso. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned at first. 

For a second, I almost allowed shyness to get the better of me. Then, I remembered exactly who I was. 

"Leave your cut on," I stated. 

It wasn't even a question. 

Namjoon paused for a moment, the words registering through his head. Soon enough, his mouth turned into a smirk as he stepped off the edge of the bed. I couldn't help but smile as he reached down to retrieve the leather cut from the floor. I watched him swing the piece of clothing over his shoulder, the black material contrasting his nude skin. It made my heart beat like a drum. 

Namjoon pressed his mouth onto mine to see if I was satisfied. His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me close to him and pulled us further up the bed. There were fewer clothes between us now, and I could feel all of him as he pressed himself between my legs. 

My hips squirmed at the friction, all the little gasps, and moans that followed, as a result, were driving him insane. My hands ran up his chest, nails clinging to the nape of this neck, as his thrusts were desperate. 

"D-Don't make me w-wait," I hissed at him through my teeth, failing to sound demanding with the growing heat between my thighs.  

"You want it?" He taunted me with his husky voice. His hand crept between our bodies, to where I need him the most. "Then tell me you want it." 

His fingers parted my lower lips, where he collected the arousal that gathered between them. I bit down on my lip, feeling obligated not to give in so easily. His thumb brushing past my clitoris while he teased my entrance. 

"Damn you, Namjoon..." I cursed him. 

His head lowered out of my sight, his mouth ravishing the already memorized sweet spots on my neck. 

"I love it when you say my name," His voice muttered against my skin. 

I dug my nails harder into the base of his neck, his palm pressing against my aching core. The stimulation coursing through my center and to the tips of my toes. My hips ignored my pride and rocked against his torment. It didn't take too long for my lips to do the same. 

"P-Please," I whispered. 

Namjoon turned his face to me, pressing a kiss against my cheek. I could feel the smile on his lips as he was feeling victorious.

"Please what, babe?" He teased further. 

Just like any other one of our fights, he would always win them. 

"I want it..." I begged. "I want you." 

He pushed my thighs further apart with the palms of his hands. Then he moved one of them to wrap around my waist, and he took himself in the other. 

"Okay, princess." He planted a kiss on my cheeks again, this time, as a promise. 

His eyes stammered down between our bodies, his eyebrows contoured in concentration. Beads of sweat were already forming along the line of his hair, running down his neck from the forest of his undercut, making his skin glow in the room light. 

Namjoon returned my gaze just as he pushed himself inside of me, stretching my walls and causing my eyes to flutter. A silent gasp opened my mouth while my body stiffened at the feeling. His breath ghosted over my chest as he sunk deep inside of me, his hand gripping the side of skin in his hold. 

"Fuck..." His deep tone made my skin shutter with delight. 

I strengthened my hold on him, feeling him start to pull out, my walls tightened, wanting to keep him buried. The feeling must have convinced him otherwise because he drove his length to my brim right away. His hips snapped against mine, not being able to hold back any longer. 

Namjoon's other hand came up to my hips, digging his fingertips into my flesh, keeping me where he wanted me. His arm underneath me pulled me in closer, my back arching off the bed, and my breast pressed against his chest and the leather cut. My legs trembled and caressed against his own, the pleasure running straight through them. 

"Ah!" I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 

Namjoon didn't seem to have a problem with that. In fact, he encouraged it with his mouth leaving wet kisses across my throat. The feeling was a tickle compared to the satisfaction tightening in my middle. 

I lusted for the taste of him, of his tongue, of his desire. Connected, as one, the same thought crossed through his mind. This kiss was rougher, driven by the appetite of our passion. A kiss from his lips, that traveled beyond my mouth, directly to my head. There, the effects made the world around us appear better than before. My body didn't know how to do anything else but give in. 

I squirmed and trembled underneath him. Every motion of his body was like a tidal wave, and my insides were the shoreline. The room began to fill with the noises of our bodies. Every sound from our mouths was a push further to the breaking point deep within. He made me feel parts of my body that I had forgotten were there. The touch of his sweetened my skin all over. 

He dropped my waist, my body failing to support itself, and came crashing down on the bed. There was space between us now for air to flow through. Namjoon's hold resigned to the sides of my hips, where he sat on his knees and brought my lower half onto his lap. He supported my momentum and rocked me into him at a new angle.

"Oh! Y-Yes..." I cried. My hands clawed upward, searching for the pillow he was pounding me toward, something I could hold onto. 

As much as I wanted to look, to stare at his tensing arms holding me down and his tightening abdomen that kept his hips rolling into me, my eyes merely couldn't stay open long enough. 

That seemed to be a problem.

I didn't even see his hands coming to grab me, this time lifting me forward. I dropped the cushion as he took my arms, sitting me upright on his thighs. My weight pushed me down onto his cock. My wild instinct took over and kept my hips moving. 

I grabbed his shoulders for support. I fought back to dig my nails into the fine leather of his cut as my forehead rested against his. I could feel my spirit being washed over by the euphoria, the more I stared into his eyes, the more sure I was falling into the abyss. 

"I want you..." Namjoon's breath was shallow, and his voice laced with truth. His hands, coiling around me to keep me gazing in. "More than I've ever wanted a-anyone..." 

Just as the saying goes, I was sure that the abyss was now gazing back into me.

Both of my arms moved around his head, meeting at the back of it, and gripping his black hair. I already accepted that I passed the point of no return. 

With my legs numb, I continued to ride us to the edge of our high. My nipples were hard and rubbing against the sewn-in patches on his chest. I could feel myself dripping down my thighs as my velvet insides pulsed around him. My abdomen was burning and turning. Tears of ecstasy threatened the clarity of my vision. However, I could see it in his eyes that he wanted it too. 

"Please, I-I want to-" The words stammered out of my mouth, being cut short by Namjoon's actions. 

He grabbed a fist full of my hair, allowing my head to fall back as I prepared for the pleasure to rip me apart. My body entered in a state of shock as he thrust upward eagerly. The velocity of his movements began to merge with the speed of my heartbeat. They become one in my ringing ears, and the feeling in my core radiated into every nerve. 

He didn't stop, every second of my high was played until, the feeling of him finishing inside of me. It was a sensation like no other, one that I had experienced for the first time. 

-

Time had gone by, and we remained under the shelter of the blankets. Our legs were tangled underneath, allowing our bodies to rest and recover, while our minds began to process. I laid on my stomach, Namjoon's arm was under my head, and his eyes wandered over my open back. His fingertips traced figures that were unknown to me on the curve of my shoulder. 

The after-effects ran gradually in my head, a cloud-like feeling that made everything seem peaceful. It was like nothing could bother us at this moment, even if someone walked through the door, we were in our world. Though nothing had been resolved, only complicated further, there was no fear.

When our parents got together, he was 15, and I was 14, we were as different as black and white. Our entire upbringing was a contest, one with a winner and a loser. It's not hard to tell how that worked out. Though, even now, I was afraid that wouldn't change. It wasn't a childish habit neither of us couldn't let go, it was more than that, it was like the natural order of things. We were two sides of a spectrum and there was no balance in the middle. One of us would have to lose.

"What are you thinking about?" Namjoon asked gently. 

I had been staring off into the shadow on his arm that was cast by his big head. When I looked up at him, his eyes had noticed that I was hundreds of miles away. 

"How we ended up here," I replied. 

Namjoon's touch had trickled from his fingers to the palm of his hand. He caressed my skin tenderly before leaning down and setting a kiss on the bone of my arm. 

"Does that still matter to you?" He uttered against my skin. His breath warmed over the patch of space and made me follow his every move.

A part of me felt like it was an easy topic to start a fight about. His perspective on our past was different because we lived two different lives. Whether he knew it or not, was irrelevant at this moment, I didn't feel like fighting anymore. 

"I'm just trying to make sense of it all," I answered lightly, even though the matter was weighing heavily. "Why did things have to happen this way?"

Namjoon moved his body closer, his head tilted low so that his eyes would reach my level. He pushed loose pieces of hair that had fallen over my face while he took the question for himself.

"I think... sometimes people make bad decisions,"' He explained his philosophy with ease. His hand lingering over my cheek, now rid of anything that may disturb his touch. "Decisions that affect everyone,"

I couldn't tell what past decisions he was referring too. If he had any in particular that he blamed. "But the world has a way of straightening things out,"

Namjoon leaned his head on his shoulder, face leveling with mine. He laid where my hand had been resting between us, his lips pressed against my pinky finger as he smiled. 

"If you give it the chance," He added. A hint lingered in his voice, indicating that he meant it directly to me.

I lifted that same hand, bringing it just over his face, and letting it fall flat on his cheek. The playful slap made him chuckle, taking a hold of the abusive hand with his own. 

"Give it a chance or give you a chance?" I asked, seeing through the suggestion of his theory. 

"Is that what you think this could be?"

Maybe I couldn't come up with answers on my own. Just knowing where Namjoon stood, however, gave me a direction to work off.

"Why not?" He responded, making a good point. 

"I have always liked you and," He paused as he realized the confession he had just made. It was too late to take it back now. "And you, at the very least, like parts of me." 

I hated that he found himself so funny, with a laugh that spread a smile on his face. I hated that it made me laugh as well, like the 18-year-old he made me feel like, but most of all, I hated that he was right. 

"I've begun to think that I'm a grenade, Namjoon," I said as he squeezed my hand in his palm. "I was only built to do one thing,"

Destruction was all I knew, it's how I dealt with any and every emotion. It was going to happen one way or another.  

"Are you sure you want to pull the pin?"

I didn't mean to come off so bleak after having the best sex of my life. But I felt like there was always something to question with Namjoon. Everything he said made me realize where I stood, and it was usually on the other side.

"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," He had lost the playfulness in his voice. "Crazy and destructive is all I've ever known." 

With Jaeeun as a mother, I didn't doubt it for a minute. 

It seemed, one thing Namjoon and I had in common, where the questionable morals our parents had imposed upon us. We could see the wrong, the toxicity of it all, but it was just the way of our world. That's why we could only attract people like ourselves. That's why our parents worked so well. 

I realized in my downward spiral of hopelessness that I was actually falling into a huge hole created by my absence of ever learning basic human graces. The most obvious was forgiveness. 

For my father, If he had been wronged by anyone, in or out of the club, he had to be compensated by money or blood. There was no turning the other cheek. When relationships become a ledger of profit and loss, you have no friends, no loved ones, just pluses, and minuses. You are absolutely alone.

Which was the irony of this life, after all. We were family but with conditions and expectations. Regardless of real blood or not, if you didn't serve a need, you weren't worth much. 

Having self-awareness on the matter didn't exactly give me the solution to resist it. I still felt that things were owed to me, so much so, I spent seven years of my life dwelling on it. I started to consider it was too late for me to unlearn such a severe trait. 

"Do you ever think of living differently," I asked him because I was forced to, and I came running back, anyway. 

"What? Like, leaving the club?" He asked, almost appalled. 

"No, of course not." Even if he could, I had already learned that leaving Blackburn didn't equal a normal life.

The issue wasn't Bangtan, the issue was the people in it, the things we chose to do with it. "I mean like steering Bangtan out of the trafficking business." 

Even though Namjoon's eyes were looking into mine, it's like he wasn't there. Something about that idea took him far from this conversation. I couldn't tell if it provoked fear or inspiration of some sort. 

"I don't have any other skills," He answered bluntly. I could see the idea was still playing through his mind. "I mean, I'm an okay bartender with a high school diploma but," 

He came back to me but failed to make eye contact. 

"The only thing I ever did well was outlaw."

Though I understood what he was saying, something about his answer was strange to me. Namjoon was one of the smartest people I had ever known, and it was a concept much larger than ourselves. I found his thought process to be very one-dimensional.

"Besides," He continued. His demeanor returned to what it was before my question, meaning he was about to discard it.

Namjoon took my arm and pulled me onto his chest, my head now laying at the edge of his shoulder. Our naked bodies now conduct heat between each other. 

"How am I going to take care of you, if I decide to do something as absurd, as make an honest living?"

My brain should have taken the entire sentence for what it meant, but I was hung-up on the first part. My head lifted off his body, looking for those dark eyes that stared at the ceiling. 

"Oh, is that what you want to do?" I laughed. His mouth smirking, knowing well that this would be my reaction. 

"Yes," He replied confidently. 

He cupped my face and quickly brought his kiss to me. His mouth seizing my top lip, and being graceful in slipping his tongue. "That's exactly what I want."

He barely stopped to get the words out. His hands ran down my shoulder, fingers wrapping around my arm and tugging me to come closer. I swung my leg over his hip, my breast brushing up his ribs to take more of his sweet mouth. 

"You're going to treat me good?" I hardly teased. It was difficult for me to taunt him when he was making my body melt in his arms.

"As good as my leather," He promised. His hand groped the skin down to my leg.

His hands promised more than just that, they hooked behind my knee, craving the idea of me straddling his hips.

"As long as you promise to ride me as much as your Harley." He whispered.

As intriguing as his words were, I pushed him away and slapped the center of his chest. He only chuckled, letting go of my leg and rubbing away the pain from my hand. 

I liked to see his eyelids turn into slits when his full cheeks built against them. The corners of his mouth reveal a smile that never ages. I rested my chin on his center and watched the laughing drain out his body. 

I don't know if it was just me, my mind that didn't know how to enjoy a moment of happiness but I had to say something. 

"If I'm going to be here- If we're going to do this," I said sternly, not wanting him to discard it like other things I've said in the past. 

"Then, you have to tell me the truth... all of it." 

He looked down at me, as best as he could, from his position on his back. His eyes were gentle and patient with me. "Not just what you think I have to know or can handle."

Namjoon nodded his head, looking at the desire of making this work in my eyes. It was one of the first times I felt that we could have been on the same page, or at the very least, tried to be.

"I know," He assured me, leaning down and kissing the top of my head affectionately. "I will,"

As much as I wanted to believe him, there was no experience for me to put my faith in. If anything, I had just the opposite, an entire lifestyle that promoted falsehood. 

"How can I trust you?" I asked him to convince me. 

"I can't lie to you," He simply stated. 

Namjoon sighed and ran this thumb across my cheek. "Not you (Y/n). Not when I already have to lie to everyone else."

I knew that was the draining part of our life. Inside the club, there had to be truth. Our word was our honor. But outside, it was all about deception. Lies were our defense, our default. To survive, you had to master the art of perjury. The lies and the truth had to feel the same. But once you learned that skill, nobody knew the truth in or outside the club- especially not you.

"We should get up," I told him. 

He looked at me as if he wanted my response to his words, but that would take a while. I didn't doubt his feelings, but his capability of following through was different. Even though I would like to think he could stick around. "The bar has to open soon." 

Namjoon nodded, his arms coming loose around my figure. 

"You're probably right," He grumbled as I moved to allow him space to get up. 

There were so many other things that I wanted to talk about, but it seemed better to let us live. I didn't know if this was true or a fairy tale I wanted to believe in. Things would play out just the way they were supposed to, and I would just have to enjoy the ride. 

I rolled onto my back with a hard sigh. Namjoon had already pushed the covers off his waist and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The quilt-like covers just barely hid his ass as he was reaching for his leather on the nightstand. However, that wasn't the first thing that had caught my attention.

It was as if he hadn't taken off his cut. Tattooed into his skin, in black ink, was the entire backside of his leather, the top, and bottom rockers, as well as, the center patch and MC cube. 

The moment I saw it, I shut my eyes and cursed myself. It was then I knew that this man would ruin my life if I let him. 

- 

Namjoon walked with me outside of the bar to where my motorcycle was left parked all night. It was like a gentleman escorting a lady to her door after the first date. Though I suppose it was the bikers' edition. Besides telling him my plans for the day, we didn't speak much. 

If I was going to be staying at the bar, I needed more than alcohol, coffee, and peanuts to live off. There was a working kitchen that we only used during parties but was full of junk food. I figured I would buy groceries, and then work on the Fatboy. An average day is all I wanted, and it was already off to a pleasant start. 

However, when we stepped foot outside, we were not met with the empty parking lot that I hoped. The California sun was overhead, making the parking lot appear a water-thirsty desert. There were three other bikes parked besides Namjoon's and I's. The engines were still running, and their owners remained seated, seeming as if they just pulled up. 

My footsteps immediately become slower at the new information. Namjoon didn't notice as he was two or three steps ahead. It was stupid- I know. Nevertheless, I felt that the moment we approached them, they would magically know what happened between us. It was as if the words technically incest was written across our foreheads. Knowing that running away wasn't an option only made me panic further. 

This was one of the things we should have talked about.

The first member my eyes laid on was Yoongi, as he was parked the closest, just beside Namjoon's Harley. Due to his height, Seokjin was easy to recognize in the parking spot beside him. Though once Seokjin abandoned his bike, he left room for me to see who was on the other side of him. It was Jimin. 

He followed in Seokjin's footsteps, unmounting his bike and gathering around Yoongi's. The same feeling of the night before came flooding back. My worry of just a few seconds ago had completely dissipated into the air.

Now, my unwilling steps had become active stomps. Namjoon only took notice as I passed him by without any warning. My new demeanor caught the attention of everyone around me, but my eyes were fixed on only him.

He saw me coming, of course, but still did not expect my anger. There wasn't even a time for a formal greeting.  

"Hey, wha-!"

Jimin's words fell short once I grabbed him by the arm. My feet didn't miss a beat as I dragged him with me across the abandoned parking lot. I was well aware that I was causing a fuss. Just like I knew there was no way I was actually hauling Jimin off his feet, he was coming along willingly. The distance where I had stopped was far enough to make overhearing us difficult for the others. 

Once I let him free, it wasn't even an entire second before my hands were all over him again. As strongly as I could, I shoved his chest, barely making him stumble on his feet. I did that, over and over again, each time he would be a step further away.

"(Y/n)!" Jimin's hands came up defensively, keeping on guard, of any other hands coming his way. My rage had taken over me completely. Now, I was the child throwing a tantrum. I could feel my arms shake and ball into fists, tears burning in my eyes just by looking at him. "Hey! Relax," 

He took hold of my wrists and took notice of how deeply upset I was. My chest was rising and falling, my face burning with the color of red. "Just tell me what's wrong- what did I do?"

I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I even thought that I wouldn't, but it simply came out. 

"What the hell were you thinking!?" I barked at him. My hands still, fighting to make contact with him. "Detonating a bomb by hand?! Have you completely lost your mind?!"

His grip, along with the feature of his face, softened at my accusation. I imagined half of it was out of shock and confusion. "You could have died! You piece of sh-"

Before I could finish my words, my face was buried in his chest. Jimin's arms came to my aid, one of them, gently holding the back of my head. 

I just lost it, breaking down into tears, without any control of my emotions.I didn't know that the events of last night had affected me so much. 

Having seen Jimin in such a dangerous situation, when mortality was so recent in my thoughts, was too much to bear. My father had only been dead a few days, and I couldn't possibly handle losing someone else. 

"I-I'm sorry..." He replied hesitantly. He wasn't apologizing for his actions but for the fact that they had frightened me. I knew that. "I had it under control though,"

I scoffed in his shirt, trying to stay angry at him, but I just couldn't. I was so relieved that he was unharmed and I couldn't hide that. I put on my brave face and moved out of his embrace. With a little bit of embarrassment residing on my cheeks, I attempted to wipe my skin dry. 

"Are you okay?" Jimin asked still, concerned with my outburst.

"Yeah," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes, grateful I hadn't applied any makeup this morning. "But if you ever do something stupid like that again-"

I sighed, finding it hard to come up with an empty threat. "I'll kill you myself,"

Jimin smirked and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. I caught a glance at the group across from us. Seokjin gossiped to Yoongi while Namjoon wore a slightly annoyed expression. I knew I would have to do some explaining to him later. 

"How did you know?" I also knew that question was coming, and I wasn't proud to say that I was a good liar.

"Namjoon told me," I spoke naturally. 

It was a hard lie to sell, but once Jimin finds out about me and Namjoon's relationship, it will make more sense. 

"He did?" He was obviously surprised and didn't know how to react. 

"Yeah," I assured him. "We're working things out..." 

To hold up this lie, I had to trust in Jimin's place in the club. Namjoon was the president, and it wasn't Jimin's right to question why he would share information with me. It felt wrong to lie to him this way, I felt like a meticulous manipulator, but I couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet, at least. 

 I could see on Jimin's face that he had more questions to ask about the matter. However, there was no time, our attention had been seized by something else.

A gray van came rushing into the parking lot. Jimin had pulled me back, afraid the vehicle could have actually run me over. He stood in front of me, protectively, drawing out his gun from his back pocket. 

The van had made it from one side of the parking lot to the other. I spotted Namjoon also being on edge with Yoongi and Seokjin, debating if they should approach or not. The vehicle stopped in the middle of a U-turn and opened up its inner side door. 

It was too familiar to the first night I arrived. I think we were all prepared to have some kind of shootout in the middle of the parking lot. 

Except, when the door opened, the single man who we spotted didn't have a gun in his hand. He was dressed in dark clothing, dark jeans, and a tee-shirt, with a bandana covering everything under his nose. Instead of an automatic weapon, he had a gym bag over his shoulder. 

He tossed the bag out of the van, it landed somewhere between us, before he just as quickly slid the door back shut. The van wasted no time and rushed out of the parking lot as fast as it had come in. It disappeared down the road, and no one knew what to do. 

The black gym bag just laid there in the middle of the parking lot, under a hot burning sun. 

Namjoon was the first one to start approaching the sack, Seokjin, and Yoongi following behind him. They stepped with caution, Jimin locked eyes with them and did the same. I trailed closely behind him, and we only made it about three feet away from the bag before slowly stopping once again. 

"(Y/n) stand back," Namjoon ordered me, but my head was already spinning with possibilities. 

It couldn't be a bomb- they wouldn't risk tossing it on the ground that way. 

"(Y/n)," Jimin also called as I had passed him, getting closer than any of them. 

It wasn't until then that I noticed that there was something else. The cloth of the bottom side of the bag appeared darker, wet as if something had spilled. 

Then, something Romero had said last night popped into my head. 

I could smell it, but I had to make sure. I reached down, the boys gathering around me now as I carefully went to unzip the pouch. 

"Oh my god!" I gasped.

I stumbled back as I caught a glimpse. The smell hit me, decaying meat, and the trail of death. Inside the bag were two severed heads. 

Masterlist ≽

[lokihzra]

My Heart’s On Fire For Your Love

Chapter 6: one word and it’s over

Summary: Only a lucky few happen to find their soulmates. It was so rare that it became a myth. So why did Tony find an L on his wrist a couple hours after Loki threw him out a window and why did he agree to Loki and Thor moving in the tower?

May 17th, 2012

Tony woke up with a jolt of pain shooting through his back and ending in his head and legs. He shot up in bed, heaving from the blinding pain leaving his legs slightly numb. He groans as he swings his legs over the bed, the tingling becoming like little needles as his feet hit the floor. He powers through it and pushes himself up, grabbing his phone off of the nightstand and managing to make it to the bathroom without his knees giving out.

It wasn’t bad, he’s experienced worse but it was more annoying, the tingling in his legs and back, the numbness was annoying. He leans back against the counter and pulls the back of his shirt over his head, he doesn’t look as he opens his camera on his phone and quickly takes a picture of his back in the mirror.

It was probably only a bruise from Loki and Thors fight, maybe really bad bruises. Maybe when Thor pushed Loki back into the floor he broke skin?

It could’ve been a lot of things, he expected maybe a broken bone but when he looked at the picture the only thing that stopped him from throwing up right there was his hand slapping over his mouth as he turned around and heaved into the sink. 

He was completely numb as he puked and puked for what felt like hours. It was like a bad hangover, the hangovers that made him consider going to the hospital. The ones where he couldn’t sleep, eat or even drink anything, he would do nothing but throw up, shake and sweat to attempt to get the alcohol from his body. And just like the bad hangovers he was praying to every god he could think of to make this stop.

A couple minutes later it did.

He quickly washes down his mess, making sure not to look at it, afraid to make himself sick again and he notices his phone isn’t in his hand. He lets out a shaky sigh as he steps back from the counter, ignoring his shaking knees as he spots his phone by the counter and his knees almost give out as he picks it up. He swallows down the fear pulling at his organs as he turns the phone back on, not even caring about a new crack in the screen as he stares down at the picture.

It was bad, so fucking bad. Red, yellow, blue and purple on tan skin. It was like a fucking rainbow, Red scabs, pink irritated skin, yellow surrounding the gashes, blue and purple mixing together making his back look like the night sky. An ugly night sky.

He couldn’t do this, he could barely look at Loki’s scars everyday and pretend it was fine, this, this he can not fucking do. He needs to know, who did this and why Loki won’t fucking tell anyone about it. Sometimes Tony hates being so fucking nice, thus why he was an asshole all the time but shit like this, he can’t stand by and do nothing.

“Let’s hope god is on our side for once” is the first thing Loki hears as he enters the common floor and he can’t help but say “there is no god”. His face falls slack as he stares at the Avengers, expecting ridicule.

Unsurprisingly Tony says “you may be my new best friend” with a smirk “hey how do you feel about the government?”

Loki frowns as he grabs a cup from the thing called a dishwasher, Midgardians baffle him with their laziness. “The people that thought they could keep me in a prison made for mortals?” he asks as he turns around goes to the coffee pot

“Yeah them”

“Arrogant, annoying, think way too highly of themselves” Loki deadpans as he pours creamer in his coffee

“That’s called a god complex” Natasha states, making the brothers frown.

“Okay” Loki deadpans as he continues making his coffee “we need to go to Asgard today Thor”

Immediately Thor protests “no, we talked about this yesterday” he says sternly and Loki glares “Father would not hesitate-”

“You think I can’t protect myself from him?’

“Speaking of-” Tony interrupts as he gets and pulls Loki along with him to the balcony “-I need to talk to you”

Loki rips his arm from Tonys grip but follows him out anyways “Pardon me but what the fuck?” he asks harshly as they get outside “I told you to stop this”

“Don’t swear it doesn’t match you”

“Beiskaldir” Loki retorts and Tony ignores his breath hitch.

He quickly shakes it off “I woke up this morning from pain shooting through my back” Tony states and he sees Loki’s jaw tighten just slightly “who was it from?”

Loki glares before turning around “none of your business” he growls and despite that Tony still grabs his arm and spins him back around.

“I hate you, I really fucking do but that doesn’t mean I can just sit by and do nothing”

Loki’s glare fades into something unreadable, something that makes guilt tug ans twist Tonys organs “what did I tell you before Stark?”

“I know what you told me and I don’t care. I care about who did this to you and why?”

Loki sighs and turns back around saying "Let me heal it and I will tell you”

“Won’t it heal if you heal?”

Loki keeps walking, “you have my bruise” he states, giving Tony a shrug before going back inside and Tony can’t help but touch his cheek where Loki is sporting a reddish bruise before heading back in and he regrets not jumping off the damn balcony. “how long have you guys even been bonded?” Steve asks with a frown, Tony who stops in his tracks nearly yells as he snarls “eight fucking days now quit interrogating me”

Steve huffs before saying “this is soulmates, you guys are bonded-“

“yeah I know Steve you keep fucking reminding me” Tony interrupts harshly as heads to the bar, not acknowledging Loki as he stands beside him and makes a drink, he felt awkward, having Loki’s wounds on him but he ignores it and asks “this is why you wanted to go to Asgard?”

“yes” Loki deadpans as he pours sugar in his coffee, he quickly grew a liking to it and considered taking some home. If he ever could go home.

Thor butts in from his spot beside Steve “I can ask mother and father to-“

“no” Loki says sternly, “do not tell him, mother yes, father no. Got it?” Odin would surely kill them both if he knew, probably Thor as well for not telling him but Thor is his favourite and Loki doesn’t know Odin as well as he thought.

Thor cowers away with a quiet “okay” going back to shoving pancakes down his throat.

“How are you the older brother?” Clint asks with a laugh

Loki can’t help but spit “and how are you so useless?”

Clint glares at him, unknowingly satisfying Loki while he retorts “how are you so fucking annoying?”

“how are you so weak?”

“how are you so self-destructive?”

Loki scoffs “you have not seen self-destructive Barton”

“Loki” Thor says lowly, telling Loki not to go there. He couldn’t take it, not after getting Loki back.

Loki goes back to his coffee, dumping a bit too much creamer in as he says “told you Barton I’ll always win” Loki sees Tony from the corner of his eyes, hiding his smirk in his cup as he takes a sip and goes to sit back down.

“you did not win that” Barton says immediately and Loki has to resist laughing at the desperation in his tone.

“I got the last word” Loki informs him “I won so don’t even start again” Loki demands as he sees Barton open his mouth to say something but quickly snaps it shut but he quickly says “you’re an asshole” Clint hisses as Loki sits in an armchair near his brother and Steve. Loki sighs, taking a sip of his coffee while he thinks.

You do need their trust.

“I didn’t want to do anything that I did, that doesn’t justify it or make up for it I’m very aware of that but I’m also aware that you despise me and I don’t blame you Barton” Loki admits, swallowing down his pride before continuing “I’m saying this with complete sincerity, I am sorry for controlling you and for making you endure my pain and I respect you for staying sane through it all” Loki resists the urge to smirk at Bartons frozen form.

“You never apologize” Thor accuses.

Loki rolls his eyes as he looks over at his brother “then it should prove something, should it not?”

Thor hums before changing the subject “any requests?” he asks “any specific questions you want answers to? Belongings? I’ll get them, anything you want” Thor says quickly making Loki frown but he doesn’t question it as he conjures up paper and a quill, knowing Thor will forget everything he requests.

“a feather and ink” Natasha hums

“real space vikings” Tony finishes and Loki ignores them as he continues writing.

“what do you guys use to write? other than computers?” Thor asks, or more so challenges them.

“pens” Bruce says “like normal people”

“okay” Loki scoffs as the quill vanishes with a single thought and he folds up the paper into what Midgardians call a paper airplane and throws it at Thor, “read that and I will burn you” Loki threatens as the paper flies inches from Thor's head and he doesn’t even flinch.

“I will stab you” Thor replies immediately

“try it Thumb” Loki snarls with a smirk, seeing that glint in Thors eyes as he leans forward and spits back with just as much venom as Loki “no problem Lucky”

Natasha interrupts them “weren’t you guys just fighting the other day?”

Loki raises a brow and decides to take a trip down memory lane “he incapacitated me for weeks and hours after he came to see me asking if I wanted to go ride the horses and cried when I said I couldn-“

“I did not cry” Thor cries

“yes you did”

“Ah brotherly moments” Tony hums “beautiful” he finishes with a smile and a clap of his hands.

“you cried when I broke my leg” Thor deadpans.

Loki quickly complains “I wasn’t even 250 years yet” he says, knowing it’s completely normal for a child that age to cry for their older brother.

“how fucking long is that?” Tony asks loudly.

“here I would’ve been four” Loki says quickly, turning back to Thor only for Clint to ask “how old are you guys now?” Loki sighs loudly, hating questions and Thor thankfully, knows it and answers for him.

“twenty-six and twenty-two I think?” Thor looks to Loki for confirmation and he nods instantly “our birthdays are in October and December”

“how do you know?” Natasha asks “I thought Asgards time works differently?”

“years ago our father would gift us of going with him on his travels around the nine realms”

“as a birthday present?” Natasha asks and Thor nods “damn my birthday presents were weapons”

Loki blurts “we got those as well”

“I still have my first dagger” Thor says proudly “and my first hammer it’s tiny-“

“Thor” Loki interrupts, dead serious as he says “no one cares”

“Is it just-”

Tony fucking snaps “jesus fucking christ Rogers can you shut the fuck up?” Tony roars, his veins burning with anger and he doesn’t even care that Bruce is sitting right beside him “all you fucking do is talk about this soulmate bullshit and I’m fucking sick of it”

Steve gulps before saying “I’m worried about you”

“Well stop!” Tony yells again “stop caring about me, stop worrying about me. Just fucking stop”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make things harder”

Tony scoffs, but it wasn’t bitter like usual “Oh I know you don’t” he says lowly “because you help people, you try to make things better -god my dad would not stop talking about you” Steve frowns at that but doesn’t say anything, making Tony let out a bitter scoff followed by a laugh “you may think you’re trying to help me but really you’re just fucking annoying me”

“I’m so-“

“stop” Tony yells again “stop apologizing, stop being so fucking nice to me” he says quickly before getting up and heading to the elevator “jesus fucking christ take me now”

“You’re intoxicated” Loki states with a raise of his brows as Tony stumbles in his room.

“Not as drunk as I should be” Tony slurs slightly as he leans against the dresser “you said you’d tell me if I let you try and heal it”

Loki nods, looking back down at his book “yes I remember”

Tony frowns, just by the tone of his voice Tony knew Loki was fucking around “tell me first and then I’ll let you heal it”

Loki looks at him, putting down his book and sitting up properly now “we don’t know if it will heal” Loki states “so I’m not telling you until after I try”

Tony presses his lips together and turning around, he pulls the back of his shirt up and flinches slightly when he feels that same warmth he felt when Loki was healing his cuts and he knows it’s working, he doesn’t have to ask because the uncomfortable pain is gone, the tight skin that felt like the scabs were ripping open with every move, gone.

Loki hums as he steps back “it worked”

Tony instantly drops his shirt “what about yours?” he asks as he turns around and in reply Loki reaches behind himself and a second later he nods.

“Gone” he says happily as he drops his hand.

Tony can’t help but smirk and Loki’s happiness instantly fades “Who did this to you? Or us-you?” Loki doesn’t say anything for a moment and it makes Tonys heartbeat pick up, he still says “you promised you’d tell me”

Loki sighs harshly, not taking his eyes off of Tony as he finally blurts.

“Odin”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

He Imagines Going Home: Dex

Dex, your angst is killing my ability to write coat-smut and I hope you’re happy

CW: References to serious trauma and violence, broken bones, stitches, blood, etc. But no real violence here. Just some references/implications.

I made myself cry again with this one. Dex’s POV destroys me, every time. Read Dismantled, Insecurity by @spiffythespook, and Reconstruction for context. Oh my god I have to make a Wrex Master List and new moodboard don’t I.

When she wants him to brew the coffee, three days after she nearly killed him, he cannot stand. She comes into his room, into the warm darkness he's been sinking in and out of, and orders him to stand.

He tries.

He fails.

Instead he crumbles to the ground and lands in a graceless heap, barely managing to catch himself - wait wrong hand no no no too late - and he doesn't scream when his weight lands on the splints and broken fingers of his right hand.

He exhales, slow and deliberate, as agony blossoms up his arm and settles into his mind. There might be a whine - not quite a whimper - that laces the edges of the air as it leaves his lungs, but other than that… he doesn’t scream.

He tries to be silent.

He succeeds.

"Disgraceful. Three days of stubble, three days without a shower. You are an absolute fucking wretch." Her voice is low. “You should be dead. You don’t deserve the mercy I have given you.” She has done this to him, but it was his fault. He let her see that he is not her perfect masterpiece, after all. This is all his fault. 

"You have lazed in bed long enough. I told you to stand up."

He tries.

He fails, again.

At least this time he manages to slump onto his knees. She has always liked them kneeling. She likes it now, he can feel the tension in the air shift and dissipate, just a little. After twenty years, Dex knows Karen Renford inside and out. He has made only a few mistakes.

He should have known better than to fight her, defy her insistence he not see Wright again. From the moment he signed why, he had been walking into her trap. She knew, she knew that he loved someone when he was not meant to have that feeling. He couldn’t keep that knowledge from her any longer.

All he can keep a secret, now, is that he wants to believe he isn’t the only one who feels it. 

She stares down at him, and he can't bear to look up. Broken man, beaten and battered, my own fault. He keeps his eyes on the floor. She doesn’t command him to look, so he doesn’t. He is afraid if he looks, he won’t be able to hide how much he hates her any longer.

His face throbs, a pulse of pain along the stitches in time with his heartbeat. Disfigured. He had wondered if it would be enough to ruin him, in the eyes of the only person who called him beautiful when he was not bleeding.

Dex knows she sent him a photo of Dex's face to test the other man, to see how angry he would get.

Lovely work, darling.

Tears threaten again - hot and insistent, and he has cried so much in three days that his eyes feel worn and painful - and he fights them back. His message to Karen was a lie, Dex is sure of it. He is certain, and he breathes the message, in and out, like a heartbeat. Paradise Lost by the history section on a Tuesday.

Peter's voice but Wright's words - the words meant only for him. Dex clings to that message with what battered, cracked hope he has left. Sorry for what she did. He wants you to know that he called for you.

For you.

Not her.

Wright likes him as he is, has spent so long pushing apart the empty spaces to find what Dex had so carefully hidden inside, and he can’t keep going if it has been a lie all along.

Wright often compared him to Kintsukuroi, broken pottery where the cracks have been filled with gold. At first, Wright had suggested the gold came from Karen. Later, he had said - in Dex's ear, a breath and want against his skin - that Dex himself was the gold. Filling in her edges with the parts of his own true personality that Wright helped him to rediscover and bring to the light.

Outside, the sun has not yet risen - but Karen Renford has always been up before dawn, making use of the grayish half-light to take some time for herself.

My house is so full, She says with a smile to guests at parties, and her four Box Boys - three from the Facility and poor Henry, who never stood a chance once she got her claws in him - don’t speak a word of disagreement. Obedient, and any of them could walk right out the gate - except Henry - but they don’t.

They can’t.

In the present, Karen’s foot - bare, and it is so rare that he sees her without her red-soled heels, only in these soft gray hours of the morning - taps on the floor impatiently. He swallows, and manages, with a groan he bites back behind his teeth, to push back until he is sitting on his heels.

Everything hurts, and there is no part of him, inside or out, that isn’t begging for it to stop.

"If you can't stand," Karen says, her voice cold, "Then you will crawl. I trusted you, Dex, and you betrayed that trust. Go downstairs and make my coffee. I will be down when I am dressed. Don't dawdle. You will not appreciate my response if the coffee is not at least brewing when I am ready.”

He tries to be silent.

He succeeds.

He cradles his broken hand on his lap, and waits for her to leave. Watches her feet turn on a dime to walk lightly, nearly soundlessly, out of his room. Hears the sound of the hallway bathroom door opening and closing. The shower turns on.

He tries to stand.

He fails.

He crawls.

Bruised skin aches, cuts and welts are pulled back open - and Seb won’t like cleaning them again, Dex thinks dimly, as he crawls out into the hallway on the second floor. They will soak the loose, light-colored shirt and pants he was given with more drops of blood. The red will spread and spread and dry brown, and it’s been so long since Dex had to wash blood out of his own clothing, and he cannot even stand to scrub at the stains now.

His bones are screaming, as he navigates the stairs awkwardly, having to slide down like a child. Sit on the step, place your feet, balance with your good hand, pull yourself down.

Each thump to the next step, and the next, is an agony.

He grinds his teeth together as hard as he can, breathing harsh and fast through his nose, and keeps going.

He tries to stay silent.

He succeeds.

When he makes it to the bottom, to the landing, he can see the front door. There was never a time, in his life in this house, where Dex could have walked away. He is too broken, too bent to her will. He can’t walk out now.

But for the first time in more than fifteen years, Dex stares at the door and he dreams about it. He pictures himself, standing tall and unbeaten, with his hair sort of ruffled the way Wright likes it. 

He thinks of himself, in the green sweater Wright gave him and a simple pair of black pants, turning the doorknob with an unbroken hand. He thinks about stepping outside to look at the grayish-pink sky, about walking with even steps to the front gate.

He fights the instant, conditioned fear (you’re only safe with a collar, the collar is how you know someone wants you) and imagines himself without a the band of leather and the tag, with his neck bare to the rising sun.

He imagines a car, waiting for him at the end of the street.

Someone to take him somewhere other than hell.

Someone to bring him home.

The tears are back, and this time he lets them fall, because there will never be a car, there will never be a rescue, and he taught himself so long ago not to dream like this.

Back up the stairs, there is a shuffle, Karen moving from the main hall bathroom to her bedroom, and he swallows. He can’t be sitting here when she’s dressed. He can’t be hurt any worse than this, he can’t. He has to heal, so he can get to the library.

Dex looks at the wall, just beside him, and then at the kitchen. If he steps with one heel to the other foot’s toes, it’s maybe thirty-five steps from here to the coffeemaker. Maybe twenty-five - he can’t remember right now. 

If he can stand.

Upstairs, Karen is getting dressed and his time is running out. Sebastian is still asleep - Madam doesn’t need him to cook her breakfast on a workday, she gets moving too early for that. Peter will be asleep on Henry’s floor. Seb told Dex yesterday that Peter’s been sneaking in there after Karen goes to bed, bedding down on the floor, and then getting up before Henry does and sneaking back out again.

Henry had nightmares, the night after Karen hurt Dex. Since Peter has been sleeping on his floor, he hasn’t had any more.

Peter and Henry have secrets, too.

Dex puts his hand on the wall, bracing himself, and he tries to stand.

At first he fails.

He drops with a thump back to the floor, but he has to be able to stand because he will have to walk to the library on a Tuesday afternoon, to read Paradise Lost in the history section. It was the second half of the message Peter gave him, and if he can’t walk, he can’t go to the library without Karen’s knowledge.

Wright did not have to tell him to keep a secret.

No, Dex was a wealth of secrets when it came to Wright Farling. She had found out one of them - but she would not be given any more. He would die first.

He nearly had.

For Wright, he would speak - or stay silent - no matter the cost.

He slams the palm of his broken hand against the wall with a frustrated, strangled groan, tear tracks drying on his face as something other than grief and fear and despair settles underneath his skin. 

He is… he is suddenly so angry. 

He had exactly one thing, in the world, that belonged to him. And she has taken that, too, the way she took everything else. The way she took his life from him, when he had signed up for something else.

There were blows to his head, with the cane - the spark of white light, the agony without physical pain. Ever since, in the three days he has spent in bed, there are things breaking through. He signed up because he wanted to try and be better with his fears, his phobias. He wanted to be part of a program to mentor at-risk kids, he knew that much.

He signed up to try and save his relationship with Ben, too.

He doesn’t know who Ben is.

It’s not important.

Ben doesn’t exist, in his life, any longer. But Wright does. And he has to stand, because he has to walk, because if he can’t walk he can’t get to the library and if he goes there, maybe…

He tries, one more time, to stand.

This time, he succeeds.

It’s a slog and it hurts and his legs are begging him to go back to his hands and knees, but he won’t do it. Not this time. He uses his brace against the wall to steady himself, pushes up onto his feet.

It hurts, it hurts so much, but the simmering anger underneath takes away a little of the pain.

Dex, breathing in pants, stares across the short entryway to the open doorway to the kitchen. Thirty-five - or twenty-five, please God if you’re real let there be less than thirty-five steps - to the coffeemaker. The bag of coffee is right next to it, sitting on the countertop, a special blend she has custom-made by a local roaster.

He can do this.

He has to do this.

He has to walk.

Dex looks down at his bare feet - even his feet are bruised, and he doesn’t remember her hitting them when he was curled up on her office floor but she must have - and then he looks back to the coffeemaker.

He moves his right foot first, testing its ability to hold his weight. His knee trembles, his thighs scream in pain, but it holds. So he takes one step, dragging his left foot behind him, trying not to force it to do any work it doesn’t have to do.

Once he has moved a single step, he picks up his left foot, and tests how well that one will hold. He manages, hissing through his teeth. He hurts so badly. There are so many pains that they run together into a constant refrain, water that will drag him under to drown. He fixes his eyes on the coffeemaker, lets them go distant, the awareness of his own body and the world around him sliding away.

In training, in the Facility, nearly everyone learns to do it sooner or later. When they won’t stop hurting you - when you can’t take another second - when there is nothing in your world but pain and cold and exhaustion and fear… you learn this.

His body hurts, but it is not his body. His heart is breaking, but it is not his heart. His fingers are broken, but they are not his fingers. He wants to collapse but he will not, not this time. All Dex is, and was, and will ever be, condenses to a singular goal of get through this.

All he is, now, is a determination not to fail again.

He tries to walk.

He succeeds.

His steps shuffle, and are impossibly slow. He keeps one hand on the wall for balance. Behind his distance and the careful soft fog he has wrapped himself in, he can feel the agony trying to break down the walls. It wants his attention, demands it.

You did this to yourself. This is your fault for asking why. This is your fault for what you’ve let yourself become. This is your fault for having a voice. This is your fault for letting her see the cracks he helped you remember how to fill in with gold. This is your fault for ever wanting them filled at all.

Each step punctuated with blame, responsibility, a twist of his heart. Another crack, breaking down the dam. He never takes his eyes off the coffeemaker, off his one single goal to survive the pain and the fear and keep moving, one foot in front of the other, until he is on the other side of this.

This is your fault for falling in love.

Dex chokes back a sob, forces it into the silent constriction of his voicebox, where all the words live until he is alone with the only person who ever truly listens to him. He keeps walking, step by slow step, until he is in the kitchen doorway, and the coffeemaker is so close, so close.

He has to stop.

He takes a break to breathe, panting through his mouth now, sweat broken out across his forehead and face. He can feel the blood sticking his clothing to his skin from reopened wounds. Opening his mouth even a little pulls slightly at the stitches Sebastian so carefully sewed into his face.

Disfigured. Disgraced. Imperfect. Broken. Brainless. Unwanted. Your own fault.

No.

He takes a deep breath through his teeth, feels the oxygen fill his lungs, and then he starts walking again. Step by slow step, feet dragging on the floor, feeling a trickle of sweat or blood down his back and he doesn’t know which and he doesn’t care, any longer.

He keeps his eyes on his goal, and lets his mind spiral outwards.

When Dex makes it to the countertop he has to hold himself up by his good hand with white-knuckled fingers, his broken hand hanging uselessly down at his side. Fingers splinted together with Peter’s imperfect, well-meaning movements, twisting constantly to check the tutorial video. He and Sebastian gave Dex the only medical care he would receive for this.

He loves them both, Dex realizes with a deep twist inside of him that is nearly a whole new pain. He has always held himself distant from the others, too afraid that if he got close he would give away his secret. He has always set himself apart, hidden in the office to work on Karen’s household management, played Chopin too long and too loud to give them the privacy to hide from him, too. He has been the informant, the one who would tell Karen anything and everything.

He had thought himself feared, distrusted, disliked.

He thought of Sebastian sitting by his bed, dabbing at the wounds as he laid there staring with dull eyes at the wall, saying softly, I’m so sorry, Dex. I’m so sorry she found out about this. I’m so sorry, we’ll figure something out, okay? I’m so sorry-

He thought of Peter holding him while he cried, whispering you’re a good boy, he called for you, not for her. It’s going to be okay, Dex, it has to be okay. Listen, he says go to the library when you can walk again. Go on a Tuesday and read Paradise Lost by the history section. Okay? He said that, he said, I’ll walk you myself if you can’t go alone yet, but we’ll get you there. I don’t care if she notices I’m gone, I’ll take the blame, it’s worth it. We’ll get you there. I’m so sorry-

He thought of Henry sneaking into his room when he thought Dex was asleep, setting up his mp3 player and speaker on the side table next to Dex’s bed, and the way a recording of Henry’s own first composition - he’d been sixteen years old and Dex had been so proud of him he had nearly broken his own rules to tell Henry so out loud - began to play. The way Henry had paused next to his bed, and whispered, I wish I knew how to help. I’m so sorry.

He loves his brothers, each and every one, and he wishes he could have been someone they could trust.

Tears drop onto Karen’s butcher-block countertops and Dex lets them fall, breathing in low soft moans of pain so he won’t open his mouth too much, leaning himself on the counter with his chest for balance so he can measure out the coffee with his good hand. The aches are back, but they are inside as well as out.

He’s wasted so much time, lost so much - more than half of his life under her thumb, and he doesn’t remember the first half at all.

He has so little left - but he has so much more than he thought he did.

Once he has shuffled along the counter to the sink, filled the carafe with water, and set the coffee to brewing, he waits. When Karen comes downstairs in a loose, figure-skimming sweater and tight black Ponte pants, she looks him over thoughtfully. He looks back.

He has more than she thinks he has.

He is more than she thinks he is.

He is not brainless. He is not disgraced. He is not disfigured he is not imperfect he is not broken - or if he is, he can fill the cracks in with gold. He can take what she made and remake himself, make something new. 

He can be something new.

He is forty years old, but it’s not too late.

“Acceptable.” Karen gives him a slight smile - cold and unfeeling as every other expression. “Kneel.”

He tries to be silent.

He succeeds.

He doesn’t go to his knees gracefully. He simply drops with a crack to the floor, automatically, all at once. Puppet with strings cut, barely a man at all. He stays there while the coffee brews, while she pours herself a cup and adds a bit of cream. He stays there, right where he is on the floor by the counter, until she has gone to sit outside and watch the sun rise.

Only when she is gone does he raise his eyes, and stare out the sliding glass doors towards the garden. The sky is a brilliant blend of oranges, yellows, and pinks reflecting off a thin covering of clouds. The sun will burn the clouds away and the sky will be a brilliant blue soon enough.

Dex crawls on his knees to the glass door, to lean against it with one shoulder, to sit and watch the dawn.

He is not unwanted.

This is not his fault.

Paradise Lost, he mouths to himself, his eyes on the sky. By the history section on a Tuesday.

Dex imagines a car waiting, down the road. A door opening, a smile tipped up at him as he climbs inside the passenger seat and buckles himself in. Lips to press against the back of his hand, fingers wrapped around his, unbroken. A hand on his bared neck. Eyes that look into his, eyes that see him.

Eyes that always see him.

Are you ready to go? The man asks him, with a hint of a winsome smile.

I was ready five years ago, the Dex in his mind answers back, with the little teasing smile. You made me wait.

You have a point, Dex, darling. Aren’t I the lucky one that you are such a patient man? The tone is teasing, but the words are sincere. Dex feels a warmth, inside of himself, that begins to seep in and around and over the pain.

Gold, to shine through the cracks.

He imagines the car pulling away from the sidewalk, driving down the street, out of the neighborhood, the city, the state.

He imagines being driven away from hell.

He imagines that the man will one day take him home.

[shipper-trash-bag]

Unlovable

Sam couldn’t focus, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t read another second of text in from of him, slamming the book closed and excusing himself from the library in a stiff tone, all but running to his room.

Gabriel was on a date. Without him. Not that Sam expected to be taken out by the former archangel, but he had hoped. Now that they were back home and safe, no portals open, no one coming for them, he had hoped maybe something could blossom between them. Maybe not love, mainly because of Sam’s own luck or lack there of in tbt department, but maybe a friendship. Something. But no, he was stuck at the bunker with Dean and his mother doing research while Gabriel went off doing who knows what with the waitress they’d met a state over the previous night.

Falling into bed with the lights off, he willed himself not to cry, the cloud of darkness in his mind doing its best to silence any shred of happiness he might have in his heart. He doesn’t love you, it whispered. He’ll never love you, you’re not worth his love. A former archangel, ha! You’re delusional. You don’t deserve him. He tried to block out the voice with a pillow, but it was no use. It was louder than even Lucifer’s was at times, the depression he’s had since he was a child never lifting long enough for him to feel like he mattered, like he was worthy of love.

Jess made him feel worthy at one point. And now she’s dead, the voice whispered. But his mother and his brother were here. And they both left, they only came back because they had no other choice, it hissed. But Cas- loves Dean more, always has. And Jack - could do better than you.

It dragged him down, down, down deeper in the pits of sorrow, the tears not shy now as they streamed down his face as he sobbed. He rolled himself under the covers, hiding from the world as the voice got what it demanded - defeat.

Sam fell asleep like that, tears stained on his cheeks, sleeping fitfully and waking up with a start several hours later. Uneasy, but too wired to sleep, he made his way to the kitchen to make a tea, stopping short as he found Gabriel sitting at the table, back to him, shoulders shaking. “Gabriel?”

The ex angel startled, wiping at his face as he sniffles and turned around, plastering a fake smile for his friend. “Hey Sam. Sorry, did I wake you?”

Sam shook his head, concerned. “No, couldn’t sleep. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, noth-“

“Gabriel.” Sam sat heavily across from him, face set in stone. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me, please.”

With the softness of his words, Gabriel broke down, head falling forward as he sobbed. Sam grabbed at his hands, squeezing tightly as Gabriel explained. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go out with her. I drove all the way over there and I just couldn’t- I had to tell her I wasn’t ready, and she looked at me like I was broken. Like I wasn’t even worth her time.”

“Gabriel, it just didn’t work out with her, I’m sure the next time you-“

“No!” He gasped, looking at Sam with watery eyes. “Asmodeus was right. I’m not worth anyone’s time.”

Sam was furious. How dare anyone tell his friend such a ridiculous thing. “You’re worth mine.”

Gabriel scoffed, snorting a little as he coughed. “But you deserve better. You deserve someone unbroken.”

Sam squeezed his hand, forcing Gabriel’s gaze on his own, feeling braver than he had in a long time. “You know what I did when you left yesterday?” Gabriel shook his head. “I tried to research with mom and Dean, to catalogue the library better, but I couldn’t focus. I ended up in my room, crying until I fell asleep.”

Gabriel reeled back as if he’d been slapped. “What? Why would you do something like that?”

Sam took a shaky breathe in, looking down at the Formica of the table. “Because the man I love went on a date with a waitress he met a state away.” Gabriel’s hands withdrew from Sam’s own and the ringing in his ears started up again, the voice not far behind. See? He doesn’t love you. Sam closed his eyes against the assault, letting the pain wash over him, it demanding to be felt. You ruined it, just like you ruin everything.

But as he felt the first tear threaten to fall, he also felt strong arms circle around him. He opened his eyes to find Gabriel no longer sitting across from him, but instead standing next to him, holding him tightly. Sam raised his hands up to hold him back, feeling Gabriel mutter into his neck, “do you really love me?” Nodding, he felt a shudder against him. “I thought you hated me?”

Sam pulled back, looking at Gabriel’s tear soaked face with nothing but surety. “No, I don’t hate you. Sometimes I hate what you do, but I haven’t hated you for a long time. The past three years? I’ve loved you so much I think I’d die.” Gabriel hiccuped a laugh, a small hopeful smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Seeing you with other people felt like being shot in the heart. I don’t deserve someone as good as you.”

“Oh, Sam,” Gabriel gasped, holding his hunter tightly as the kitchen clock ticked on. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s you who’s too good for me.” He shifted as Sam stood to hold him properly, tears soaking the shirt he’s buried his face into. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I went on that date, I’m sorry-“

But Sam had heard enough. He knew they’d both suffered enough, both feeling like they weren’t worthy of one another, of happiness. “Shh,” Sam hushed, rubbing at Gabriel’s back. “You don’t have to be sorry, it’s okay.”

“You cried yourself to sleep over me!”

“I once cried myself to sleep over Optimus Prime dying.”

Gabriel laughed, a wet chortling sound as he gripped onto Sam’s shirt. “I’m bearing my heart here and the man’s got jokes.”

“You’re always trying to make me laugh, thought I’d return the favour.”

They stood like that, holding one another for a while, soaking up the love from the other, calming the tears that slowly tapered off until Gabriel pulled his head away far enough to look up at Sam, eyes shining with happiness as well as tears. “You know,” Gabriel said slowly. “If we were to go on a first date, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Sam thought about it for a moment, and replied, “nothing wrong with dinner and a movie, you know.”

Gabriel shook his head. “You’re Sam freaking Winchester, you deserve something more special than that.”

Sam leaned down to kiss Gabriel on the cheek. “I don’t know about you, but I plan on having more than just the one date with you. There’s lots of time for special.”

Gabriel nodded, pulling away to hold Sam’s hand. “Would you like to accompany me to breakfast then? We can make it our first date, or we can use it to discuss where we want to go on our first date?” The hope in his eyes was palpable. Sam squeezed his hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. “Or we could do it tomorrow? Whenever. I don’t want to rush you.” Sam pulled on his hand, leading him out of the kitchen. “Sam?”

“I’m tired. I think I should go back to bed.”

“Oh, uh, okay” Gabriel nodded, confused and a little hurt. “I understand. It’s like, four am, so I get it.”

“You look tired too, maybe you should take a nap,” Sam smiled a wicked grin, Gabriel however, was still slow on the uptake.

“Okay, but you know my room’s the other way, so-“

Sam rolled his eyes, kissing Gabriel on the cheek again. “My bed’s big enough for two.”

“Oh. Oh! Oooooh!” Gabriel smiled, hand squeezing Sam’s. “I don’t have any expectations of you, just to let you know.”

Sam nodded, leading them to his room, flicking the lights off in the other rooms as they passed them. “It doesn’t have to be anything other than sleep.”

“And cuddling. I’m gonna cuddle the crap out of you.” Sam laughed, nodding as they rushed back to his room.

Ten minutes of getting the bed just right, another two to get the right angles, Gabriel nestled in his arms, Sam realized the voice in the back of his head was quiet. “I like this,” Gabriel whispered.

Sam nodded, leaning down to do what he had wanted to for three long years. The second their lips touched, Sam felt like he could cry. But this time, they would be tears of joy, especially when Gabriel pulled back to whisper, “I love you too.”

They fell asleep wrapped up in each other, and when he awoke many hours later, Gabriel’s face pressed to his chest, he felt more loved and cherished than he had in years.

Gabriel awoke slowly, and with a single breath, he filled Sam’s heart to the brim when he said “I promise you’ll never feel unloved again.”

[ficsnthings]

Paul “Jesus” Rovia x Male!Reader

Summary: Jesus said he had to run. He didn’t say who he was running back to.

Rated: T - canon typical violence

Read on AO3

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y/n = your name

y/e/c = your eye colour

When Jesus awoke in an unfamiliar makeshift cell with no real sense of how long he’d been there, his immediate thought was to escape. He needed to get home to where his people, where his family were waiting for him.

So after assessing that neither the water nor the cookie that had been left for him were poisoned (after all, why they would poison him after going through the trouble of saving him and dressing his wounds if they were just going to poison him?) he quickly ate and drank before he slipped his bonds, watched the guard they had posted on the most obvious exit to keep him in and waited for an opening to sneak away and find another way out, which he found in the form of a third floor window.

If there was one thing Jesus was good at, it was thinking on his feet, but it wasn’t until he’d finally lowered himself to the ground that he realized he really didn’t have a plan now. He knew he needed to get home, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure of quite how far away home was. Even if he made it over the wall, he had no weapons, no real sense of where he was, and no guarantee that the tracker, for Jesus knew that was what the rough looking man with the angel wing vest was, wouldn’t come after him.

These people could have killed him, could have left him out there to die, but they hadn’t. Instead they had brought him back with them and left him with food and water. He decided his best chance at making it home might be to make a deal. But first he needed information, leverage.

So he snuck around, found their supply stores (meager given how large their community appeared to be ), their armory (impressive, considerably more so than their food stores), before creeping around a few of the large homes that populated the street in order to find the man who had brought him there, the man he had assessed to be a leader, Rick.

Later, when he was sitting in the RV listening to Glenn and Abraham’s conversation involving ridiculous metaphors for sperm and procreation, he found himself unable to keep his thoughts away from his own child. The little girl he and Y/n had found abandoned and very much alone right at the very beginning.

The two of them had been quietly making their way through a little town, maneuvering swiftly down a backroad when they thought they heard a baby crying from the inside of a car that was surrounded by a group of the dead. They had paused, waiting and listening, and had almost thought they’d imagined it when they heard it again. Her cries were tired, barely audible above the noise of the snarling monsters surrounding her, but they were there.

Up until then he and Y/n had tried to play it pretty safe. They had avoided other people as well as they could, knowing that trusting the wrong sort, or getting caught somewhere in the panic and desperation of some of those groups could easily cost them their lives, and hadn’t gone out of their way to kill the undead creatures which now roamed the streets, only fighting them out of necessity. But the moment they heard those cries, the moment Y/n had given him that look of I’m about to do something stupid please back me up, he didn’t even have to think about it. He just did.

The two of them worked together to take out the group of the dead surrounding the vehicle, then jimmied open the door using the same crowbar Y/n had been using as his weapon of choice.

Y/n unstrapped the baby from the carseat/carrier that was still locked into place in the back seat and took the baby, who was maybe six, seven months old with a head of wispy brown hair, big blue eyes and pudgy, bright pink cheeks, into his arms. He gently rocked her, cooing and hushing until her little cries quieted and she instead looked up at him curiously. Jesus knew as he watched the two of them that this changed things. That he would do anything to ensure the safety of both his love as well as this rosie cheeked girl whom was already quickly stealing his heart.

Back in the present, his eyes focused in on Rick’s hand reaching over and grasping Michonne’s. The way they smiled at each other, the looks they shared, it spoke of familiarity, a shared closeness, but despite his initial assessment, after observing the two a while longer he got the distinct impression that the two had not been romantically involved long.

Watching the two comfort one another made something inside of him ache for his own love. The man he’d been with since Before.

When they’d met Jesus had just begun putting his life back together after having gone through the grueling process of getting sober. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious, hadn’t meant to get so involved, but Y/n was funny and sweet and beautiful and strong. He was kind and caring, but wasn’t a pushover, wasn’t afraid to call Jesus out on his shit. He’d gradually nudged his way past all of Jesus’ defenses, taking care of him in the little ways he did.  A new beanie when his was starting to look a little too worse for wear, another tube of toothpaste to replace the one that Jesus hadn’t realized was nearing empty, a parting kiss over coffee when he left for work in the morning. Before he knew it Y/n had wormed his way into his heart, leaving articles of clothing in drawers that once contained only Jesus’ own, a toothbrush beside his in the cup next to the bathroom sink, and a dull ache of longing in his heart when they were apart.

Jesus couldn’t wait to get back to his family, to hold the two people he loved most in the world in his arms again. He hoped Y/n wasn’t too worried about him. That was one thing he knew was inevitable with him going outside the walls, but wished he could change nonetheless. He hated making Y/n worry.

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

Waiting for Jesus to return was always difficult. Knowing that he was outside the walls, usually on his own, was terrifying. I knew he would do everything he could, whatever it took to make it back to us, but I also knew that nothing out on the road was predictable. Anything could happen to him out there, and if one day he didn’t come back we’d probably never know why.

Sometimes when he’d go out he would get held up in someway, causing him to return later than he’d hoped. On a few occasions storms and bad weather had left him holed up for days waiting for the worst to pass before he could make it home. Far more frequently, however, he would run into walkers, or people. Those were the circumstances that scared me the most. And I could just feel in my heart that was what had happened this time.

Jesus had meant to be home yesterday, had said as much as he’d kissed our daughter and I goodbye right before leaving a few days ago. He could waltz through the front gates at any time now, but knowing that didn’t stop my mind from running through possible scenarios that could have kept him from coming home to us. A day late wasn’t so much in theory, but in this world it could be the difference between life and death.

I tried not to dwell though, didn’t have much chance to do so anyway. We all had jobs to do, and mine was to take care of our daughter, Rosie, and help out around the community wherever they needed a few extra hands.

So that is exactly what I did. I awoke that morning in a bed that felt too empty, got myself cleaned up and dressed, then did the same for our daughter. I fed her and myself, then began our usual morning routine of going out to help maintain the crops before the sun had risen too high in the sky.

After a few hours we would retreat back to our trailer and work on learning our ABC’s. Rosie, in all her three and a half years, had never wanted anything quite the same way she wanted to be able to read. So each day we would spend as long as her young mind could stay focused and willing reciting the alphabet, practicing writing out each letter, and practicing the sounds that each letter made.

Today we were working on learning to write Q, R, and S, which were some of the more difficult letters for a child under four to pick up, but she quickly got the hang of Q and R. She just couldn’t quite get her mind around forming the S on her own. If I mapped it in dots she could trace over it, no problem, but she hadn’t yet figured out how to recreate it herself, yet. It would come to her, I knew. She was very determined and tended to pick things up quickly. She just needed a bit more time and patience.

Patience, however, seemed to be one thing Rosie didn’t  have in abundance today. When I could see Rosie’s steely determination quickly beginning to give way to frustration, I decided it was time to switch activities before she devolved into a meltdown.

“Hey, baby girl, why don’t we give ’S’ another try a little later, and right now we go outside and play for a bit, huh?”, I gently suggested.

The little girl in question paused to think for a moment before nodding, “Okay, Papa.”

I pulled her in for a hug after we’d both risen from our place on the floor, “You’ve done such a good job today, Rosie. You’ve been learning very fast, so I think you just need a break before you can get the ’S’ shape.”

We quickly gathered up some of her favorite toys and went outside to play in the dirt in near our little trailer. We raced matchbox cars along side little model horses whose brown paint was chipping in places, making them look more frame overo than chestnut.

As Rosie played, I felt my worry for Jesus creeping back into the forefront of my mind. By now it was mid-afternoon. What if-

“Papa?”, Rosie’s sweet voice interrupted my inner turmoil.

“What is it, baby girl?”, I replied, bringing myself back into the present.

She peered up at me with big, blue eyes and asked, “When’s Daddy coming home?”

“Well…”, I started, but was distracted from answering when Harlan, who must have just returned from his run, came hobbling around the corner supporting Freddie who was a looking fairly beat up and limping at his side.

I quickly stood and stepped towards them, ready to help if needed, “You guys okay?”

Harlan turned his head my way and nodded, readjusting Freddie’s arm around his shoulders, “We’re fine, just gotta patch up Freddie’s leg here.”

My eyes traveled down to look at the wound and I winced, “That doesn’t look so good.”

“Could have been a lot worse if Jesus hadn’t found us.”, Freddie spoke up.

That got my attention, “Jesus?”, I asked, “Is he back?”

Harlan nodded and said, “Yeah, he found a group out there so he’s taking them up to Barrington house.”, before continuing on his way towards the medical trailer.

Relief flooded my system. Jesus was safe, he was home. I knew he’d be round eventually, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I spent enough time without him when he was outside the walls, when I knew that we could be together I refused to waste whatever time we may have by staying away.

I crouched down in front of Rosie, who had resumed rolling her toy cars through the dirt, and asked, “Hey, baby girl, Daddy’s home. Do you want to go see him?”

Her face immediately lit up with a bright, dazzling smile, head nodding emphatically as she scrambled up from the ground and exclaimed, “Yes, please, Papa!”

I stood as well and she quickly latched onto my hand and began dragging me away from our trailer.

“Hey, hold up.”, I laughed, “You don’t even know where he is.”

She just shrugged and continued tugging at my hand, “I’ll find him.”

I chuckled once more, shaking my head, “Daddy’s this way, sweetheart.”, as I turned and began leading her in the opposite direction from which she’d been pulling me towards, “Daddy’s up at the big house.”

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

“Follow me, I’ll show you where you can get cleaned up.”, Jesus conceded, slightly warily.

Gregory was already making any potential dealings with Rick’s group difficult, and the tension between the two leaders was palpable. Gregory always took any good fortune their community had for granted. He never seemed to be able to look far enough in the future to realize that whatever fortune they had now was only temporary. That at any time someone or something could sour their luck and then they could be stuck in a bad situation made worse by a lack of allies willing to aid them in their time of crisis. Jesus knew what Gregory always seemed to lose sight of: In this new world, people needed each other to survive.

Though Rick’s community needed their help today, he knew that one day in the future, be it in a few months or a few years, the Hilltop may need their help in return.

So Jesus would continue to do what he always did when Gregory was being a particular brand of asshole. He would keep the peace for now and try to talk some sense into him later when he had the chance.

Just as he was about to lead the group upstairs, the front door of the house burst open and a tiny figure barreled in.

As soon as the little missile caught sight of her target she yelled, “Daddy!”, and ran full force into strong arms that automatically opened for her, latching herself to him and hugging with all her might.

The moment Jesus had his daughter in his arms again he relaxed exponentially, finally releasing the breath that he always seemed to be holding whenever he was away from she and Y/n.

He held her tight to his chest, closing his eyes and just breathing her in for a long second before pulling back a bit to say, “Hi, Rosie-girl. I missed you so much.”, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Rosie smiled the easy smile of a small child and said, “I missed you, too, Daddy!”

He smiled back at her warmly, and was about to ask where her Papa was when the man in question came bounding in, closing the still wide open door behind him.

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

As we began breaching the final fifty or so feet between ourselves and Barrington house, Rosie let go of my hand and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the place she knew her Daddy was.

I sighed, shaking my head. That little girl had moxie immeasurable.

I watched Rosie fling open the door before racing through it, leaving it wide open in her wake and as I walked up the front steps a few moments later , I knew we were going to have to have another talk about responsibility and how it was linked to being mindful of our surroundings: ie: not leaving doors open EVER, even if you thought it was safe.

But all these thoughts flew out the window the moment I’d closed the door and my searching gaze finally met that of the man I loved. When his crystal blue eyes met my own y/e/c orbs, I finally felt whole again.

Then he was there and his arms were holding our little girl between us while mine were encircling the both of them, clutching those most precious to me close.

His hand reached to cup my cheek and pull me in for a long, gentle kiss that felt like coming home.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”, he apologized when our lips parted, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

I scoffed jokingly, “Me, worry? Nah, I knew you’d ninja your way back home sooner or later.”

Jesus smiled, letting his hand stroke down the side of my neck before turning back to the group of strangers that in the excitement of our reunion I hadn’t even noticed where standing in the foyer.

“My apologies for the lack of introductions. This is Y/n and our daughter Rosie.”, he said.

Members of the group smiled or nodded warily in greeting, and Jesus reluctantly set Rosie back on her feet, “Stay with Papa, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes and then you can tell me all about everything I’ve missed out on in the last few days, sound good?”

Rosie nodded, taking hold of my hand once more, “Yes, Daddy.”

Jesus gave her one last warm smile before turning back to the group, “Alright, let’s get you all cleaned up then, shall we?”, and led the way up the stairs towards the bathrooms.

When Jesus returned a few minutes later he was alone, and so the three of us made ourselves comfortable on a couch in the sitting room. Jesus wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing me close against his side while our daughter sat perched on his lap, her little hands absently attempting to braid his long hair (though mostly only succeeding in creating tangles as opposed to the plaits she was going for) as she told her Daddy all about the crops she and Papa had helped to weed and harvest, and the letters she had learned to write and how Papa said that she was learning really, really fast!

In that moment, as he sat with the love of his life and the daughter they were raising together, his own little family, Jesus reveled in the feeling of being home.

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[steve-hairingtons]

best friends... right?

word count: 1.8k

WARNINGS: sadness, emotions

(i referenced the office at one point during this, if you’ve seen it you’ll know what i’m talking about. all credit to that goes to nbc and the writers of the office)

°

You stared in the mirror and studied your features. Your Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes complemented each other well and the rest of your features fit together like an intricate puzzle. You thought you were fairly pretty, but not beautiful. And you wished you were beautiful because you wanted to be enough for Steve.

Steve was your best friend of four years. You’d met freshman year and had been inseparable ever since. You had been through everything together - graduation, the whole Upside Down ordeal, his ‘King Steve’ phase, and his relationship (and breakup) with Nancy.

You knew he never considered you more than a friend. You could feel it in your gut. But you were madly in love with him. You had been for three and a half years. Half a year went by before you realized your feelings, but when you did, they hit you like a brick wall.

It was Halloween of your freshman year of high school. He dressed up as a wizard. He wore a purple and black cloak and carried a staff. He refused to wear a hat, though. He didn’t want to mess up his hair. He was a huge dork about being a wizard and did his best to speak in only Old English the whole night.

The last three and a half years had been absolute hell for you. Every single thing he did only made you fall more and more in love with him. Sure, you had been through rocky times - like when he spray-painted “Nancy ‘The Slut’ Wheeler” on the movie theater. And you resented him for a little while because of it.

But he had you wrapped around his finger and won you back within a week. You couldn’t stay mad at him, as much as you hated to admit it. After all, you were in love with him.

You two tended to stay at each other’s house a lot. At first, your parents were wary about allowing it but became more lenient after a little while. And that night, Steve was coming over to your house to stay with you.

You were already laying in bed reading a book when he knocked on your door.

“Hey,” he said as he walked in, laying his stuff down on your desk.

“Hey.”

“How was your day?”

He always asked this question. He was always genuinely interested in how your day was, which only helped you fall in love with him.

“Eh. It could’ve been better. Yours?”

“Same.”

“You liking the new job?”

After Starcourt burned down, he began working at FamilyVideo with Robin.

“Yeah,” he said in an unconvincing voice with a shrug. He walked over and plopped down on the bed, lying flat on his back next to you. “But I kinda miss slinging ice cream. It was easy.”

“FamilyVideo can’t be that hard. All you do it ring people up.”

“Yeah, but I have to stock tapes and shit.”

“Again, it can’t be that hard.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t even have a job.”

“I babysit for the neighbors! That’s enough for me, and I get paid more than you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” You smirked at him. “I have some news,” he said, excitement suddenly prominent in his voice.

“Do you?”

“I met this girl.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, your heart dropped. “At work. She came in and rented like twelve tapes. I made some dumb joke and she thought it was hilarious. She gave me her number. I spent like three hours on the phone with her yesterday.”

You nodded as nicely and convincingly as possible. “Th-That’s great! What’s her name?”

“Julie. She’s our age. She’s beautiful too.”

“Wow. I’m-I’m happy for you.” Sadness was laced in your voice, and he seemed to notice.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem very happy for me.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Y/N, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying. You can talk to me.”

You sighed. “Seriously, Steve. It’s fine. I don’t feel like talking about it.” He reached over and snatched your book out of your hands, and you groaned. “Give me that back.”

“Not until you tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, too bad.”

You sighed. “Fine, just... give me the book back.” You reached out and he handed it to you.

“Now, tell me what’s up.”

“We’re best friends... right?” you asked after a few seconds.

“Well, of course, we are.”

“Just best friends?”

“Um... I don’t know if I understand.”

You stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Steve...” You physically couldn’t make yourself say what you were trying to. I’m in love with you, you thought. But your brain refused to make your mouth form those words.

“What?” You didn’t answer. “What is it, Y/N?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

“Steve... I... I’m in love with you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, all you wanted was to take them back. You knew you had just ruined your friendship with Steve, which you didn’t want.

You looked over at him to see a shocked and empathetic look on his face. And as soon as you saw it, you knew he didn’t feel the same.

“I’m really sorry if that’s weird for you to hear, but... I needed you to hear it.”

“How long?” he asked simply.

“Three and a half years.”

“Y/N...”

“And-And I understand if you don’t feel the same, but... god, I’m in love with you. Desperately, hopelessly, deeply, madly... fucking in love with you. And I’ve tried to suppress those feelings, I really have. But every time you play with your hair, or drop something, or trip over your own feet... I can’t help it. And I know we’re supposed to just be best friends, but... It’s like a pit or a hole in my heart that’s only filled when I’m around you.” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. “And it’s embarrassing because the moment I realized it was freshman year Halloween. When you dressed up as that wizard and refused to wear the hat because you would mess up your hair, and you only talked like Shakespeare. And when I realized it, I went home and cried. Because I knew you would never feel the same about me.”

You looked over at him to see he was also staring up at the ceiling. He was silent, which made you nervous.

“Jesus. What a bombshell.” He reached up and rubbed his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I just... I don’t feel the same.” You nodded and let a tear drip down your temple as you looked back up at the ceiling. “You have no idea...”

“Don’t do that.”

“What your friendship means to me.”

“No. I don’t want to do that. I wanna be more than that.”

“I’m really sorry if you misinterpreted things. It’s probably my fault.”

“Not your fault. I’m sorry if I... misinterpreted our friendship.”

“I should get going,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

And with that, he had his shoes on and was out of your bedroom. You were alone, and that’s when the real tears started. Within just ten minutes, your pillow was soaked in salty tears.

-

Two weeks had passed since you’d talked to Steve, or even seen him. It was weird not seeing him every day. It was like something was missing. You didn’t get out of bed for three days after you confessed your feelings to him, and your mom almost called Steve to get him to come to talk to you. But she decided against it, as it would probably just make it worse.

You hadn’t babysat for the neighbors since that night, either. You isolated yourself and usually didn’t even speak to your mom. Robin called every single day to check-in, and you answered the phone occasionally.

Occasionally.

You didn’t answer much because every time you heard her voice, you would break down in tears. And she would just listen to you sobbing, just comforting you when you needed it.

It wasn’t until you were out one day buying groceries that you saw him again. He looked messy. He had bags under his eyes and he was starting to break out. But god you were still attracted to him.

He looked up at you a few seconds after you noticed him from the other end of the aisle. When you made eye contact, you could feel yourself starting to cry. Your face went red and your legs turned to jelly.

You turned around and walked off quickly, leaving your cart behind. You stormed out of the store, feeling a presence following you. When you finally got to your car, which was parked a little ways away from the building, you felt a hand around your arm that pulled you back.

You knew who it was without looking. You could recognize his large hand from anywhere. You turned your head to look, only to be met with the sad eyes of your best friend.

“What do you want, Steve?” you asked, pulling your arm away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I miss you.”

“Yeah, I miss you, too. What do you want?”

“Listen. What you said... that was a wake-up call for me. After I left-”

“Abruptly, without warning. Leaving me all alone.”

“When I was driving home, I got to thinking. You’ve always been there for me, through thick and thin. When I fuck up, you’re always there to comfort me. I always have a pair of arms to hold me when I’m sad and a bed to sleep in when my parents are fighting. Always. And I’ve been too stupid to look in front of me and see that. And, now that I think about it, I remember that when we met... I had the biggest crush on you. But I figured you didn’t feel the same, so I forced myself to overlook you. But now... all those feelings are resurfacing. And they’re hitting me hard. You’ve been there for me from the start, and you’re everything to me.”

“How do I know you’re not just saying this out of guilt?”

“Because of this.”

You watched him step closer and cup your face, pulling you closer and connecting your lips. You instantly kissed back, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Three and a half years. You waited three and a half years for this, and you were finally getting it. You savored every single millisecond of it, kissing him deeply.

When he pulled away, you looked up at him. He smiled at you before pecking you quickly on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve realized sooner.”

“You think?”

“I love you, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“I love you, too, Steve Harrington.”

send me prompts!

[ellaintrigue]

I need my peace.

I've struggled with PMS on and off for years, and let me tell you, PMS mixed with PTSD is so rough. I've heard of women getting murderous with that type of shit but I can still rationalize, fortunately. The first day of it I'm mad, the second day I'm emotional, the next day mad, etc., and it lasts about 5 days until I bleed.

My mother tells me to not discuss health issues in blogs or when I talk to men. She tells me to be less emotional, and not cry, especially in front of people. I've never wanted to cry in front of people, and in fact, I barely cry at all, but during PMS + high levels of stress it does happen. And sometimes I just cry and let it out and feel better. When my grandmother lay dying in hospice I got choked up and my mom turned to me and snapped, "DON'T START THAT" and I felt so trapped and miserable. My grandmother was doped up with her eyes rolling up in her head and gasping breaths from her heart failing and it was very hard to watch. And I may be a coward but I honestly would have felt better if I could have just cried a little. Not sobs but just some tears. After I left that day I bawled my ass off in my Oldsmobile. She'd never tell me to stop.

I hate censorship. I hate people saying racist things, gay-bashing, and calling women bitches and hoes, but when it comes to raw emotion and expression, where is the harm? Am I hurting someone that reads this, in admitting that I cry? In admitting I have period problems? In showing my body? I'm just... a human. A messy, scarred up, bubbly, angry, happy, sad, fucked up human. I can't write about happy beautiful things every day because that's not realistic and I don't want to.

Yesterday was eventful and also full of emotion, but not a negative day. I stayed up until 10 PM which is rare for me, and didn't eat. I last ate at 1 PM and woke up this morning starved and weak.

I definitely have some PMS still, and, any day, I want to lay in bed for 15 minutes after I wake up, either with my eyes closed or while listening to some music. I seriously need that little pause before I start my day, but some days IT IS. SO. HARD. TO GET.

I woke up shortly after 5:30 this morning, stretched, and did some thinking over the events of yesterday. I was in a good mood. Then I hear FaceBook messenger go off twice. Okay, whatever. I should turn the notifications off for the night but it's just too much to remember and fuck with somehow. I wish people would just not message me between 9 PM and 7 AM lol. But I do enjoy talking to my cousin, and let her know I had to go soon because I hadn't eaten in 16 hours.

Then the cats start slamming at my bedroom door, my dad texts me, my friend Trent dings messenger, and I'm just like, holy shit. Then my cousin mentions this gentleman she keeps saying I should talk to. I said if he wants to say hi, he can. She initially marketed it as the guy worked a lot and needed friends. You know, whatever. She first brought it up two months ago, then brought it up again today.

I'm not judging, not trying to complain about my cousin trying to be nice to me, but I talk to a loooottt of people. If someone wants to say hi to me, they can, but regardless of whether this guy wanted a friend or someone to date, I'm going to be more focused on people my own age. I know so many people over 40 that I really just want people under that and he appeared to be 50. For a while I had trouble finding friends so I participated in a social site outside of FaceBook and now talk to whoever from wherever. I also find men to talk to sometimes, to see if there's a dateable connection, but that isn't something I put much pressure on at this time.

I was involved with someone amazing mid-pandemic and am capable of getting men, it's just not something I'm going to write about or tell everyone. I think people have the misconception that because I'm a survivor of violence and a feminist that I have trouble dating but that's more my own pickiness. When I whine about dating scene things I'm just blurbing and blowing off steam, not exuding desperation. It would be lame to blog about who I'm actually talking to at the moment and spoil things. I do not need people making connections for me. 🤷‍♀️

I finally excuse myself from my talk with her, close off my computer, and leave my phone upstairs to do chores. Put my two male cats in their kennel while I clean their box, clean the old cat's box, and she whirls around my legs. She's become increasingly manic after developing a skin allergy to dry cat food. She's fine now physically but just constantly underfoot, trying to bite me all the time and generally being annoying as fuck. She has always had severe behavioral issues but this takes the cake. She wants the dry food so I try to give her a little bit throughout the week but yesterday she just woofed it down, puked it up then begged for more. That night she tried to bite my legs repeatedly. This morning she didn't want the vet-recommended wet food and tried to trip me and bite me the whole time I was trying to do chores.

I hurt my left foot so I'm having trouble moving it and I have to juggle that to avoid her, then I go outside and the black cat walks in front of me and stops and tries to sit on my feet over and over. Oh my God, I love all of them but I honestly don't know how people have kids and shit, they drive me fucking crazy. My ex's dog even drove me crazy, I hate noise in the morning, being tripped in the morning, my phone going off in the morning, people in the morning. It all drives me batshit crazy.

This is my own making since I have 4 cats because I had so many pets with my ex, and as I've mentioned before, I won't have more than 2 animals at a time after these eventually age and pass over the rainbow bridge. Anyway, this is my blurb for the week. I haven't had time to blog photos or do anything I want to do in days, it's all been work, family drama, and tons else.

Maybe one day I'll have a nice morning without noise, bullshit, and two-legged and four-legged creatures getting on my fucking nerves. Lol!

[annieintheaair]

What I’d Say

I’d be lying if I said that these last few weeks have been easy. I may be the only person in the world wishing to go back to 2020. I had no idea that heading into 2021 would mean so much sadness, disappointment, and feeling broken. Even if I had to go back to January 2020 and relive the entire year, just to get to the last 6 months that were great, I’d relive all of the pain that I felt leading up to that point.

James stopped talking to me. On Sunday, he texted me to say that he promised he would call me later and give me some answers. He never called and I haven’t received any texts from him since. I’m at the point where it takes everything in me to resist the urge to text him, even knowing he won’t respond, just because not communicating at all, even if it’s one sided, means facing the reality that it’s really over.

Since we may never speak again, here’s what I wish I could say:

Dear James,

A week before I met you, I was in Canada for work with my friend, Shasta. I was dealing with the pain of being stonewalled and ignored by someone that I cared about at the time. It was exactly a week from the last unanswered text that I sent him to our first date.

Gosh... I remember July like it was yesterday. I was smiling all day on July 2nd while we messaged back and forth on Bumble. When you asked if I wanted to meet up that night, I was so excited... but not too excited because your Bumble profile said that you were only looking for “something casual”.

I was walking down the hallway in my hotel when I first saw you. You were recording the self-playing piano on your phone, probably posting on your Instagram stories because now I know, you love to post stories. I can just picture you there. If I close my eyes, it’s like we’re still back there, meeting for the first time.

We walked into town together and went to the Cowboy Bar and later headed to Stillwest. It was at Stillwest when you started opening up to me. I loved how easy you were to talk to and I felt like we connected right away; two people who had both been cheated on in their long-term relationships.

I didn’t want that night to end and even though I had work to do that night, I didn’t care that we were out late and I wasn’t concerned about getting it done. I guess we both realized that day that we couldn’t let it end after that one date because you asked me if we could meet up again the following night. Without hesitation, I said yes.

You walked with me back to my hotel and we said “goodbye” and from my room that night, while thinking about you, fireworks appeared right outside my window. It was like the whole world was celebrating that we met.

The whole next day, I couldn’t wait for our date. When you picked me up that afternoon, we drove out to Teton Village where we took the gondola up to the top of the mountain where we sat on the patio, taking in the views, and enjoying happy hour.

We then drove through Grand Teton National Park and right as the sun began to set, we walked out to Jenny Lake and I felt like my breath was taken away by the beauty of it all. It was there that you kissed me for the first time.

We finished off the night back in town having drinks and I felt like I had never connected with anyone so fast in my life. When I left the next day, I was smiling but sad because I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again.

Only a couple of weeks later and you came to Texas to visit me. I never stopped thinking about you during those few weeks. We had some great days together and then you left when I went to work. You were gone for less than 24 hours when I told you that I had shingles and would be staying home from work. You asked if you could come back and of course, I said yes.

It was only a couple of days after that when we made our relationship official and you told me that you loved me shortly after that. I wasn’t scared and I wasn’t unsure because I knew that I loved you like a love I had never felt before.

Over the next many months, we spent most days together. The days apart were hard but I always knew that I’d see you again soon. We had so many adventures together. I loved visiting you in Wyoming at the end of August when you had me hike up an insane mountain. There’s no one else that I’d hike up a mountain like that for-- only you.

Every time we had to say goodbye, I swear I cried a little harder. You were here with me in Texas for most of September and when you left, I think you were gone for maybe four days before coming back because we both hated being apart.

In October we spent a weekend in South Padre with your friend and his girlfriend and the following weekend we went on a road trip with my dogs to check out breweries in Houston. For Halloween weekend, we drove down to San Antonio to visit your parents.

November got a little harder. Maybe I tend to sabotage things when I sense that they might end. I’ve always felt like it’s easier to hurt someone else before they can hurt you, you know, beat them to the chase. The weekend before we went to Winstar (the casino), we got into a fight. It was the biggest fight we ever had. You left and were planning on going back to Wyoming. The two days we spent apart, I realized that I never wanted to be without you again. Even though distance sucks and it’s difficult, it’s so much harder to lose you forever than it is to lose you temporarily.

I went to the casino alone but you came the second night. We ended up having a great time. I felt like if we could get past that fight then we could get past anything. I stopped going to see my therapist because I felt like we had handled that on our own and maybe I didn’t need her anymore. I was so wrong.

We made it another week. I soaked in that last week together in Texas before I went to New Jersey for Thanksgiving and you heading to Wyoming for opening weekend for snowboarding. Did we both know then that that was the beginning of the end? I remember yelling at you in the car the night before you left because I got lost and stuck in traffic on the way to the airport to pick up my mom. We managed to get through it and did okay for a few days.

While I was in NJ, you started giving me the silent treatment. I went back and forth a few times about whether or not I should meet you in Wyoming because I wasn’t sure if you wanted me there. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, which is why I had volunteered to go there to be with you so you could spend more time there instead of rushing back to Texas to be with me. I thought I could give you everything-- let you have Wyoming and be there with you because we were happy together, right?

We had a great time together in Wyoming but something felt off, something felt different. I felt like there was this distance between us but I told myself that it was that we had just become so comfortable with each other that we had become a little boring. We had a routine while I was there-- we’d work during the day and then we’d go to happy hour, sometimes the grocery store, and go back to your apartment to watch TV together in bed and drink hot toddies before falling asleep.

I was only supposed to stay for a week and the day I was suppose to leave, we got in a fight because the original plan was that you’d come back to Texas with me. I didn’t like the idea of going back to Texas alone for no reason when I wanted to be with you. I wanted as much time as possible with you. I basically begged you to ask me to stay and after some time, you did. Maybe I should have just told you I wanted to stay. I know I didn’t go about that in the right way.

I stayed for another five days or so and we had many more great times but something was still off, wasn’t it? When you drove me to the airport I tried so hard not to cry but I couldn’t stop myself. You dropped me off and hugged me and kissed me goodbye. I was bawling my eyes out.

I cried going through security, waiting for the plane, and then through the whole flight. I missed you so much already. Subconsciously, did I know that I’d never see you again after that day? Did I know then that it was over?

I had a countdown. I went to New Jersey for Christmas and you went to San Antonio but were going to come to NJ the day after Christmas for a few days. The flights were pretty full and I didn’t know if you’d be able to get there. Looking back at all of this, can I ask you something? If you knew it was so important to me, why didn’t you buy a ticket?

Instead of buying a ticket to come to me, the day you were supposed to come to NJ, you instead texted me, first saying that you didn’t want to end it but in the very next text, you told me that it was over. You drove back to Dallas with your sister instead and I was left feeling crushed and confused.

Without a word, you went back to Wyoming before New Years, leaving me alone to figure out how to get my dogs back to Texas with me and knowing that you were abandoning me on New Years when we had made plans.

I don’t know what has happened over these last few weeks. I really don’t understand it. What went so wrong in our relationship that we couldn’t even try to fix it? All I wanted was answers so I could understand and learn from it, even if it meant never getting back together.

I’ve gone through other breakups in the past and I immediately jumped back onto the dating apps to swipe to meet new people and go on dates. This time is different. I have no desire to go on dating apps or meet new people. It’s hard to move on when I still love you so much. Will I find another love like ours?

Even with all of the hurt and lack of communication recently, there’s still a part of me that wishes that the movies were real and you’d surprise me and show up at my door and we’d hug and swear that this would never happen again. You’d tell me that you made a huge mistake and you’re sorry for all of this and you want to work it out. Movies aren’t real life though but every time my dogs bark or I hear a car outside, I’m disappointed because you’re not there. Cupcakes from my job showed up on Wednesday and when the doorbell rang, I wished it was you but I guess cupcakes are the next best thing.

I didn’t realize at the time but my camera in my kitchen recorded the times we were together in my house. I see the smiles on those people in the early days and I know that they were real and genuine. I know how I felt and I think I know how you felt at the time, too. Can we go back there? Can we time travel back to July and be those people again? Sometimes I just want to get lost in those recordings. I think that if I watch them long enough then we’ll be transported back there.

If I never see you again, I’ll remember all of the great times we had-- from the first day we met to floating in my pool during the summer to road trips and vacations, hiking mountains, happy hours, breweries, and the every day, like sitting in my backyard together and all of the times you hugged me and said, “You make me so happy”. I’ll remember you laying on the floor of my closet one night, telling me, after a few drinks, that you wanted to lay in a field and look up at the stars with me and that you wanted love like your parents found in each other. All of the times we talked about our future together and not about “if” we got married someday but “when”.

Telling people that it’s over between us has been hard... very hard. Shasta and my therapist (who I decided to go back to after all) both told me that they thought I’d be telling them that we got engaged and not that we broke up. I don’t know who was more shocked-- me or them?

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for whatever it was that finally broke us. I’m sorry for the things I said when I was mad and hurt. I’m sorry that I can’t wish you happiness right now. I just hope that you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you. I hope your world feels a little quieter and lonely without me in your life. I hope you never find a love that compares to ours. I hope someday you look back and realize that you let go of something so amazing. I hope that I’m wrong and that the day at the airport wasn’t the last time I’ll have ever seen you.

I still hope that someday we can go on adventures together again. Until then, I’ll be taking a trip to Disney, like we had planned, and Seattle, where you said you had never been but wanted to go. I’m still going to go on these adventures alone and hopefully through time spent with old friends, maybe I’ll find myself again. Maybe I’ll find a way to be happy again, even if it means being happy without you.

Please know that I’ll always care about you. You’ll always have a piece of my heart. I hope, if nothing else, someday maybe we can be friends and talk. I’m releasing you, I’m letting go of the hold you have on me. I forgive you. I need to find peace and I’m not here for revenge. I’ll remember you in all of the best ways.

I (still) love you,

Annie

xoxo