empires-anomalies

[inposterumcumgaudio]

Your thoughts on Madame Wanda or the Thomasina House? If you haven't already ofc.

I've talked a bit about Thomasina House in the Class Structure post and there's a bonus theory I have about it in my post about Gemma Olsen. I might do a post about Thomasina House in particular in the future because there's more to say, but for now, I'll take you up on Madame Wanda and expand that a bit to the Reform Club as a whole.

Gonna disappoint right off, but I don't think anyone is actually having sex at the Reform Club. Sorry. All right, maybe some people do sometimes, like fucking at Studio 54. But that's not actually what the point of the place is.

It is described in the art book as a "punishment club". People go here to be punished for a misdeed they refuse to remember, but becuase they don't remember what they feel guilty for, there's no apparent reason they can't have some fun with it. That the developers have taken this concept and appended fetish play to it confuses the subject, but even then it still makes perfect sense. Fetishes aren't really about sex either so much as foundational (often childhood) memories later re-contextualized in adulthood. Dohoho.

And Madame Wanda is a matron overseeing the discipline of her naughty children.

I would really liked it if she were the Wanda Durbyfield from the "Diary of a Wayward Girl" that you find at the Hippo Club.

In fact, I very much think this was the intention: the Wanda in this diary ends her last entry by saying that, "Some day I'm going to punish them. I'm going to punish them all." And Madame Wanda has a cut diary too, indicating that she would also have been in the habit of documenting her life.

The only problem with this is that Wanda Durbyfield's diary points to her being younger than Margaret Oliphant, which would make her too young to be a Crier. But its a very good story otherwise. A girl unable to raise her child herself and terrorized by the town for it, grows up to find her calling in punishing her fellow Wellies while forgetting just as much as they have why. I think they just couldn't let go of the idea of a Crier running the fetish club because that is also a good concept. Would that they were compatible!

If the cut diary is any indication though, Wanda would have also grown into the role. As Wanda Durbyfield, her punishments would have been a revenge for the rage she was made to endure from the townspeople who were more powerful as a group than her. As Madame Wanda, her punishments are corrections with the understanding that people - children - misbehave without fully comprehending the underlying cause, especially when they have the boldness of a mob obscuring their better sense. This is why you punish them one on one (and presumably a premium rate).

I have a chapter in which I've juxtoposed the Reform Club with the Church of Simon Says and if Wanda Durbyfield was supposed to be Madame Wanda, then the game would have done this as well.

"I don't care if we ARE required to go to church! Those women are lunatics, the way they ganged up on me! You'd think they'd be GLAD I'm giving up the baby. They put their children on the train -- wouldn't they want another child? But no, I'm apparently the worst sinner in the world for sending mine away. Am I supposed to raise it here? Much better for it to live on a farm."

That the Home for Wayward Girls was a religious institution and enforced church-going despite the growing danger it posed would not only place Wanda at odds with the Church of Simon Says on a business level in the future, but a philosophical one as well.

The thing I think is most interesting about the Reform Club is that they are apparently engaging in some sort of resistance efforts, but we never actually get to know anything about it other than that it's happening. And what's more, you only learn this from a line that Sally will soliloquize to herself when walking around in the Garden District.

"I almost miss going to the Reform Club. I bet some of them could help. And they never ask awkward questions. But I'd have to be Naughty Nurse again, and I'm just not that."

I genuinely think, though. that this line is only here to give context to Gemma's bug out bag and not to actually lead into any further supposition about the Reform Club's activities. It's a sort of slight of hand, really, because the thing you're supposed to be focusing on from this statement is Sally's Naughty Nurse act that she just can't bring herself to reprise. Whatever the Reform Club is doing is similar to Mr. Kite in that you are presented it to pique your interest, but you're never permitted to get any closer to it.

And, if we're accepting that Wanda Durbyfield was meant to have grown into Madame Wanda, she even had the sense as a wayward girl know that some people deserved their chance to leave Wellington Wells.

"No one will ever marry her now. Nor me, I suppose. Not unless I can move away."

"Am I supposed to raise it here? Much better for it to live on a farm."

Beyond that, I have a further, wilder theory about the Reform Club and its place in the world.

In Lionel Castershire's quests, he often makes mention of an unnamed client who collects Uncle Jack records, but its in Ollie's act when Castershire asks him to retrieve the Salty Dog from the Lawrence house that we learn more about this client beyond that.

"I have a client who likes to… collect things. Very powerful man. He has quite a few employees, but he'd rather they not know about his��� private interests."

(As an aside, I think it's very funny that this dialogue implies the client is a taxidermy dog fucker - particularly in view of what I'm about to tell you further - but upon receipt of the quest, you learn he was probably just after the Hope Diamond that should be in the Salty Dog.)

When you return with the Salty Dog, you get one last parting piece of information from Castershire:

"My client is a man you want in your corner. And not in the other."

I like very much to think that this client is the Mr. Cleland that Madame Wanda is expecting when you come upon her as Arthur.

Mr. Cleland is a reference to John Cleland, who wrote Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, more popularly known as Fanny Hill. In it, a wealthy woman recounts in two letters to a friend known only as "Madame" the sexual adventures of her earlier life. It is considered the first English prose pornography and is otherwise notable for its use of euphemism. It contains no vulgarities directly, instead describing its graphic sexual events in very... couched language. So couched you could lose your clover clamps or the key to your safe in it. Also, Cleland wrote this novel from debtor's prison.

So Mr. Cleland and his friends are coming to visit for some Golden Knocking, are they?

I think this is meant to be euphemism, which is doubly hidden because it is framed in a place that is also trading in innuendo. Which is to say, they are implying this is a fetish-y sex thing, but I think it is actually a business transaction and this is is why you want Mr. Cleland in your corner and not the other.

I believe he brings his "friends", people who owe him money, to the Reform Club to get the screws put to them and that Madame Wanda, resident expert in the art, assists him with this. This may even be why the Reform Club is permitted to operate as it does, it enjoys the protection of a "powerful man". Probably makes makes them lean over the chair and watches while Madame Wanda gives them a proper caning. Maybe the tranquilizer darts on the table are so they can walk home after.

Further story elements in the game that dovetail nicely with this idea are the quest "Moon Juice Leach" and Captain Lawrence's unpaid debts and subsequent "accidental" death in "Old Soldiers".

In "Moon Juice Leach", Eddie Coke is remembered as having not having the "common sense that God gave an ordinary bowl of porridge" nor much reason to need "contraband" motilene, but a desperation to try to steal it all the same. This idea that motilene can even be contraband is a whole other ???, but the constables suppose that Lionel Castershire (who we later learn in Ollie's act is perhaps a tad less upstanding than he appears) may be involved in Eddie's fatal caper. If Lionel acts as a buffer between Cleland and his acquisitions, this would make sense. If Eddie got a taste of that Golden Knocker, it would also explain the reckless attempt at theft.

Meanwhile Captain Edward Lawrence is past due on his bills and on notice for shut off from the Department of Water and Power. More motilene-related troubles. Possibly purchasing discounting "contraband" motilene and being unable to pay that bill either?

Rather than (or unable to) meet his obligations, he's chosen to shut himself up in his house and refuse calls.

To great effect:

If this is the work of Mr. Cleland (or more likely his "few employees"), it presents another interesting connection: that he may also have something to do with who has access to the apples from the last apple tree in the Garden District.

Or maybe Mr. Cleland's just wondering why Captain Lawrence is buying a luxury like apples when he owes him money.

That Ollie is asked to retrieve the Salty Dog from his brother Colonel Lawrence's house, after both brothers have died, seems like a case of shifting the debt around. (This is also why I wondered if the Salty Dog wasn't supposed to be Bonny Prince Charlie at a point.)

Dropping a bookcase on Captain Lawrence is a steep escalation, for sure, but if he wouldn't come to the Reform Club, then he didn't leave himself much room to negotiate a payment plan.

Who knows. He might have even liked it.

[wandaromanova]

“And I... Am...” [2]

A Natasha Romanoff x Gn!Avenger!Reader story

warnings: fighting, little bit of violence, angst, death (let me know if i should add any!)

A/N: Ahhh, here’s the final part of this very brief series. i hope you all enjoy and if anyone would like me to write something else my asks are open. thank you for reading! <3

tagging: @username23345

summary: 5 years ago, the avengers lost. half the world may have been taken away, but Y/N’s entire world faded to nothing in their arms. they would do anything to bring everyone back, most especially the love of their life. whatever it takes.

Part 1

Word Count: 3.7K words

(gif is not mine)

5 years. 5 years without seeing her bright, pearly white smile. 5 years without her sarcastic comments and snarky remarks. 5 years without her messy red hair sprawled across her pillow as she sleeps peacefully beside you. 5 years without her warm hugs as her lavender scented perfume invades your senses. 5 years without long nights of cuddling in each other’s arms as you watched the cheesy romcoms of your choice. 5 years without waking up to her playfully kissing your face. 5 years without her standing by your side during missions. 5 years without your little dinner dates that you both decided to go on whenever you both had the time. 5 years without her teasing kisses against your neck that made you laugh as hard as ever before. 5 long, long years without Natasha Romanoff.

Everyday without her was agonizingly slow. Every part of your shared apartment a constant reminder of your failure. Your failure to protect the world, the failure of protecting your world. Natasha always ensured your safety and protection when you needed her most, and the time she needed you; you astronomically failed her. Your heart ached every night as you fell asleep, even more so in the mornings. The mornings were the worst as you would reach over to her side of the bed, expecting to feel her peaceful form breathing steadily next to you, but you are only met with the cold white sheets of your once shared bed. The cold sheets a heartbreaking contrast to her warm body.

You didn’t get a single night of uninterrupted rest, as the memory of Natasha fading to nothing in your arms would replay over and over like a song stuck in your head. You cried the first time you returned home on that fateful day. The walls of your apartment holding the memories of happier times, when she was still alive. Her coffee cup that she never washed and left on the counter every morning still sitting where she left it that very day. You didn’t have the heart to move it. You didn’t dare to move any of her things, leaving them where she had placed them. You wore all of her hoodies though, as they still held her scent. However, you went through all of her hoodies quickly, her scent fading away just like she had. You considered not staying in the apartment, the memory of her making it hard to breathe within the confines of your shared space. But, you didn’t have the heart to leave it either. Leaving your home felt like leaving her, although your true home was her.

You tried to hold out hope though. Every single day you would go to the Avengers Compound and oversee any occurrences. You would communicate with any avengers that were not in New York or simply not on earth such as Captain Marvel, Rocket, Rhodes, and Okoye. You got consumed by your need to compensate for the failure that changed your life and absolutely wrecked your self-esteem. Although you were stuck in the past, some of the other avengers tried to move past it. Tony and Pepper brought a beautiful daughter named Morgan into the world, you were so happy for them, albeit a bit envious. Steve joined a support group, Clint was.... somewhere doing lord knows what. But you remained in the compound, constantly ignoring your own well-being, unable to stomach the failure and desperately trying to find something to hold out hope. However, your stubbornness was not for naught, as one day, while Steve visited you at the Compound, Scott Lang appeared at the front of the Compound. As he explained about Quantum Physics and the possibility of time travel, hope made its way back to you full force. You could all quite possibly make things right again. This spark of hope didn’t ignite within you only, but it also coursed through the remaining avengers when they were informed of the insane, but good idea of time travel.

——————————————————————————

Time travel. That’s our only hope of restoring what used to be. It sounds absolutely insane, but it’s the only option we have. Just the fact that there even is an option, is a miracle. Tony took a little bit of time to be on board with the idea, but he came around and now all the avengers stand together on the platform. Clint and Rhodey were set to go to Vormir. You, Tony, Banner, and Steve were to go to New York. Nebula went to Morag, Thor and Rocket went to Asgard while Scott stayed behind. What felt like hours for the team, was only a minute in real time. As you all made it back to the present, you looked around at the entire team. “Did we get them all?” You turn to your right and look at Banner. “You mean to tell me this actually worked?” You asked with a wide smile. Suddenly, a thud is heard to your left.

The entire team looks at Rhodes, he is soaked and it is then you notice Clint’s absence. “Rhodey? Where’s Clint?” You ask nervously. Rhodes just looks up at the team with sorrow evident in his eyes. The whole room knew what that meant as it fell silent, you dropped to your knees. You were as close to Clint as Nat was, given he was your girlfriend’s best friend. Your soul was absolutely crushed by the news, and the fact that someone would have to tell his family about his sacrifice to bring everyone back was heart crushing. However, Clint’s death only fueled the motivation to get this over with once and for all. No one had time to truly mourn as now that the team retrieved the stones, the stones just needed to be placed into the gauntlet.

However, this was not the hardest part, no. The hardest part was figuring out who should actually snap their fingers. Thor, Tony, and yourself offered to do the snap, but Banner immediately intervened. “It’s gotta be me. You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive.” He said solemnly. “How do we know you will?” You asked him seriously. “We don’t, but the radiation is mostly gamma. It’s like, I was made for this.” He finished off, and everyone in the room begrudgingly agreed. Unfortunately, before Banner could even put his hands on the gauntlet, the compound was attacked by a huge explosion, sending everyone flying in different directions, some knocked out by the impact and buried beneath rubble.

——————————————————————————

You wake up with a groan, you entire body is aching. You slowly open your eyes and take in your surrounds. You are buried beneath the concrete of the compound. The once magnificent architectural building, now a destroyed foundation. You look to your right and notice that water is flooding into the area where you, Rhodes, and Rocket are trapped. You noticed that Rocket and Rhodes are both trapped under a piece of cement and you use your powers to lift it off of them before dropping it back onto the ground with a grunt.

You speak into comms, “Is anyone there? We’re trapped and are unable to get out of here. I can hold off the water, but I can’t get us back to the surface.” Your powers are strong, but it will take a great deal of energy to get yourself, Rhodes, and Rocket out of here. You have no clue how deep you guys are below the surface. But you could at least hold off the water until someone is able to save you all. Scott replies and says “I’m on my way, I’ll get you guys.” And you mumble a “thanks” before asking another question, “How on earth did this happen?” you ask this as you use your powers to form some sort of blockade to keep the water from drowning you all. Scott suddenly appears, going back to his regular size and says “Nebula was compromised. You guys better hang onto something,” as he turns into a giant and breaks you all out of the concrete cage you were held in.

As you all return to the surface, Scott places the three of you on the ground. You take notice of the state of Steve, Tony, and Thor. They are badly beaten as Thanos cowers over them. Your eyes widen as you notice the ships approaching behind Thanos, along with his army of thousands. You, Rocket, Rhodey, (and Gamora??) together, ready to attack. You have no time to question Gamora’s sudden seeming resurrection as you notice Banner is the only one missing from the bunch, nowhere to be seen. You turn to everyone as you point at the gauntlet in Gamora’s arms and speak ���Protect that gauntlet at all costs, don’t let him get to it. As soon as Banner is spotted, give it to him so he can do the snap and end this, once and for all. Understand?” Everyone nods in acknowledgement at your words.

A sense of deja vu hits you as you turn to face the impending battle. Once again you all are drastically outnumbered, you all must stand and fight against Thanos once more. The only differences being that you all are 5 years older, half of the universe’s population is gone, and Natasha is not by your side. The entire team is angered that this happened in the first place and the desire and will to defeat the mad titan is as strong as its ever been. You all failed to protect the world and your loved ones once, you all refused to lose this battle again. You all have something to fight for. You all attack and after what felt like hours of fighting Thanos’ army, you notice Scott running with the gauntlet, and your eyes widen as Thanos makes his way towards Scott. You quickly throw the enemies you were dealing with, with the flick of your hand and rush for the titan head-on.

Using your vibrant blue powers, you strike Thanos with a powerful beam of energy. Thanos tries to block himself but is a little too late as he’s sent flying back. “You took everything from me.” You say angrily and with a vengeful conviction as your eyes turn blue and your blue powers waver across your hands, levitating you a few feet off the ground. The titan stares at you as he stands and says “I don’t even know who you are.” You look at him and tilt your head, and reply with a dangerous calmness, “You will.” You then end up encasing Thanos, holding him up high in the air, your powers acting as blue hands. You squeeze him with all the strength you can conjure up and start to rip off his armor without laying a finger on him. “Rain fire!” The titan exclaimed to his servant. “But sire, our troops.” “Just do it!” Thanos screams. Unfortunately, you were so caught up in your rage that you failed to notice what Thanos was saying. You were soon knocked out with a powerful blast from a ship above you. Your grip on Thanos no more as you flew across the field and were knocked unconscious.

——————————————————————————

You wake up and groggily try to take in your surroundings. Your entire team beat to the ground. Banner, Scott, and Clint are unconscious, and the rest of the team are too weakened to move. Captain Marvel was also here, when she got here? You have no idea, but that doesn’t matter as she was knocked out as well. However, at least the giant ships and Thanos’ army had been taken out. You guys did impressively well considering how outnumbered you all were. You look away from your battered teammates beside you and you feel panic wash over you. Above you, the massive titan stands, placing the gauntlet on his hand. No. He CANNOT get that gauntlet, you think in a panic. However, your body is too weak to get up, you still try to stand with every ounce of strength that’s left in your body, but to no avail. All of a sudden, you feel a tingling sensation from your hands that you have never felt before.

You look at your hands and notice little sparks of electricity forming. This has never ever happened before, your powers are a dark blue and are more like laser beams than sparks. What is happening? As you stared at your hands, you failed to notice Mjölnir rising beside Thor. Mjölnir abruptly launches itself into your hand, and you suddenly feel a surge of electricity flow through your veins, giving you a spark of energy. The people who are still conscious are shell-shocked as they had all tried and failed to wield the mighty hammer. You yourself had even failed to lift Mjölnir all those years ago before the Ultron situation, but now here you were, worthy and determined to win this battle. As you attempt to stand once more, Thor joyfully exclaims “I knew it!” At Thor’s words, Thanos stomps on Thor, successfully knocking the Asgardian God out cold.

You rise to your feet, the only thing on your mind being that you need to bring Natasha back. You charge at Thanos, rising off the ground as your dark blue powers mixed with the lightning of mjölnir radiate off of you. You struck the titan with a powerful, concentrated hit with Mjölnir before using up the most power you ever have. You manage to do damage to Thanos, but with the gauntlet on he manages to use the stones to fight against your own powers. As he hits you, he fails to notice you exchange the gauntlet with the stones, with another gauntlet that he failed to notice lying on the ground. As your body is flung like a ragdoll across the floor, you look up as Thanos says “I... am inevitable.” And he snaps his fingers, but nothing happens. He, along with everyone else looks confused as he does this. All of them were puzzled, except for you.

You get on your knees and place the real gauntlet on. The energy so powerful as it courses through your veins, it’s an intense burn as if your blood was made of fire, pumping through every part of your body. You look around at the team, the people you have grown to love and call a family. You know that this will be the end of you, but you are content with that. What better way to go than saving the world and bringing the love of your life back? The team seems aware of your fate as well, the sadness evident on the faces of the broken down avengers. It hurt them, but they knew it had to be done. They couldn’t stop you, even if they tried. You already had the gauntlet on and you had made up your mind. After one last glance at your family, you focus back on Thanos, who stares at you in shock. A human wielding the stones, that was a sight for sore eyes. The snap almost killed Thanos the first time, imagine now? You have powers of your own, yes, but you’re still a human. You take a deep breath, your mind is racing as it is taken over by thoughts of Natasha. How you’ll never get to see her red hair and green eyes sparkle again, how you’ll never hear her raspy laugh that warms you up inside, and how you’ll never have the future you both had always wanted together. But you remind yourself that this is all for her, and that was the final push you needed to follow through with this plan.

You stare Thanos dead in the eye again as you shakily say “I... Am...” you envision Natasha and her big bright smile as you finally say “an Avenger.” And with the snap of your fingers, a bright light consumes your body and radiates across the field. All you hear is the ringing in your ears and all you can focus on is the burning of your charred body. The conscious team members gather around you, they are all speaking to you but you can’t fully hear what they’re saying. They sound far away even though they’re right in front of you. You watch as Thanos and his little servants disappear into dust, just like half of the population did 5 years ago. You release a heavy sigh of relief at the sight.

You look back to Steve who’s directly in front of you. He reaches into his pocket and dials a number, and when he turns the phone towards you, you notice the contact name; Natasha. Steve’s eyes widen as the redhead actually answers her phone, it worked. He however, tried to swallow his shock as he let’s her know that you’ll be put on the line. He doesn’t have the heart to inform her of your condition. You use every muscle in your body just to reach out for the phone and grasp it in your hand. “Hello? Y/N, baby?? Where are you?? What happened??” You smile widely at the sound of her deep, raspy voice as your eyes slowly start to close. The team panics as they try to convince you to keep your eyes open just a little longer, Natasha’s voice sounding more concerned and alarmed at the coaxing of the team. We did it, we really did it... she’s okay... it’s okay... is your final thought as your eyes close even further. The darkness is so tempting and you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into it, until you’re consumed by it. Never to see the light again.

——————————————————————————

2 weeks later

At your funeral, Nat was suspiciously devoid of emotion as the ceremony commenced. It was so weird for the team to see and they were genuinely worried. Natasha was always sure to not make her emotions known, it’s how she was trained as an assassin, but to show no emotion after losing the love of her life? Definite cause for concern. After the beautiful ceremony and burial, the team all returned to Tony’s cabin, he let the team know that there was something he needed to share with them. Tony stands before the team in his living room and places his iron man helmet on the mantle. He clears his throat before he begins, “Before the time heist, Y/N approached me and asked me a favor. They borrowed my iron man helmet and asked me to play this recording if things went south. So, this is me fulfilling their final wish.”

You appear as a hologram, sitting on a chair in your time heist suit. “So, if you’re watching this.. that means that I’m... yanno” and you make a throat slicing motion with a little laugh. You then realize that the people watching this will most likely not find humor in your little joke and immediately stop laughing. “I hope that in watching this, that means that we succeeded in bringing everyone back. It’s all we have been hoping and praying for, for the past 5 years. And I pray to God... or to Thor... that it worked out.” You actually laugh at your terrible attempt at a joke. Everyone in the room laughs at your corniness with tears in their eyes.

“If we did win, that must mean that you’re here Natasha.” You pause and take a deep breath. At the mention of the redhead, the room falls silent as Nat watches intensely, desperate to hear what you have to say to her. You proceed, your voice wavering as you were overcome with emotion, “I’m so sorry that I had to leave you so soon. I’m so sorry that we’ll never have the chance to get married and have little rascals of our own running around a little farmhouse of our own in the middle of nowhere like we always dreamt of. But, the day you left me, those 5 long years ago, a part of me left with you. And I would do anything to get you back, and I’m sure I’ve proven that to be true if you’re seeing this.” You take another break as your voice starts cracking, as Natasha finally let a tear escape.

You suddenly stand up, and move over to the camera, staring directly into it with an intense gaze. “But Nat, baby, you have to listen to me when i say that this is not the end of the world. It may feel like it, but I promise you it’s not. Those 5 years without you, I felt as though I was drowning in grief and despair, but then hope made its way into my life when Scott suddenly appeared on the steps of the compound. And I promise you that you will have hope again, not for my return, but for happiness in your life again, without me.” At your words, Natasha shakes her head furiously as silent tears steadily fall across her pale cheeks.

You giggle “I know you won’t believe me right now, but you will one day my love. You were wrong that day in Wakanda. You WILL survive this. You must move on eventually, as impossible as it sounds and as much as it kills me to say. Please do not give up on the world, don’t push everyone away, but let them in. I gave my life up so you could live yours, and I know you wouldn’t let my life go to waste.” You stop and look down at your watch. “I have to go now, if this time heist thing goes to plan, then everyone who vanished will return. God, I hope so.... I love you Natalia Alianovna Romanova.” You look down at your hands, and back up at the camera and say your final words.

“Remember...” you begin while moving closer to the helmet, “You could never lose me moya lyubov... I’m yours forever.” You smile tearily and the recording ends. Those last words were what finally did it for Natasha. All the emotion she was keeping bottled up broke loose and she had no control of the wheel of her emotions as she slammed head first into a breakdown. Natasha cried in sorrow as she mourned the possibilities that are no longer possible and screamed out in anguish for the unfulfilled promises of a happy, long life with you by her side.

The world had won, but Natasha had lost her world.

[someonestolemyshoes]

So... during the time skip, Hange is on a business trip to Marley. Levi stays home to deal with some installation or important project for Hange, gets injured in some stupid way, falls off scaffolding or something. And he doesnt think too much of it because it's such a stupid way to get injured. And he hides it even when it gets worse and Hange is the only one who notices because she knows him so well. BUT when she gets back, it gets worse. And Levi hates hospitals so Hange forces him to go <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt :) I’m not super thrilled with the way this one turned out, but I had a lot of fun anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Angst ahead, if that’s not your thing. 

(Drinking game: take a shot every time Levi says he’s fine) 

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

**

It wasn't a particularly bad accident, but it was a particularly stupid one.

Hange had been tied up in meetings for days, stuck inside Sina with other military personnel, with carnivorous media, with business moguls eager to ensure their pockets would be well lined by any negotiation plans with Marley and their neighbouring countries.

She had taken Armin and Jean alongside her; Armin had a mind with similar mechanics to her own, and as such he was best suited to help her formulate a compelling case with their higher ups, while Jean had attended at Levi’s insistence. Hange had already made it clear that, with Armin gone, they needed somebody to oversee continued construction on the railway line, and Levi, uneasy with the idea of Hange being without an attack dog, had demanded Kirstein attend in his place. The brat was becoming something of a budget Moblit, always trailing after Hange whenever she was around—Levi thought he looked a little pitiful, following her around like an eager puppy, but he supposed he was grateful for it now, if it meant he had no objections taking a trip into the interior with her.

Levi had been left with the rest of the brood. Eren and Mikasa worked diligently, though Eren—distant and despondent as he had been since the Queen’s address after Shiganshina—remained sullen, while Mikasa alternated between shooting Eren looks of concern, and staring scathingly at Levi whenever he came into view. She tolerated him far better, these days, but Levi was unsure she’d ever fully forgive him for his public display at Eren’s trial.

No matter. She did as she was told, reluctantly as may be. Connie and Sasha, on the other hand, were proving problematic.

They lacked focus. The four of them were working on construction of a rail house near the coast, somewhere to store equipment for maintenance, with a few flat beds for workers to rest in between commutes. The walls were coming along, but the space was still lacking a proper roof, covered only by tarp to keep the metal beams and frames inside from rusting before they could be treated and on the tracks. Eren and Mikasa were working quietly on one side, while Connie and Sasha were goofing off on the other.

Levi clicked his tongue. The work was, in theory, far less hazardous than slaying titans had ever been, but they were still a couple of stories in the air on flimsily constructed scaffolding, without any gear to catch them if they fell. The drop wasn’t deadly in itself, but the inside of the half-built hut was full of great mounds of metal, beams and poles and wires covered only by papery thin sheets. A fall onto that, from this height, would result in breaks and bruises at best. 

"Oi,” Levi called, making his way around the rickety structure. Connie and Sasha either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. That had been happening upsettingly often, of late; whatever intimidation tactic Levi had employed when they were still bratty kids had lost its effect. Connie teetered around Sasha as she tried to smear mortar on his cheek, edging along the scaffolding on only his toes until he made his way around her. Levi picked up his pace and called again, more of a snarl this time, a warning, but Sasha let out a shriek of delighted laughter as she managed to slap a trowel full of mortar on the top of Connie’s head. Neither of them heard him.

“You fall and break your necks and Hange will kill me,” Levi said. Sasha twisted to look at him but offered only a smile. Levi was within feet of them, when Connie moved quickly behind Sasha—he was doing nothing suspicious that Levi could see, but Sasha, awaiting retaliation, tried to scurry hurriedly away. Her foot missed the edge of the scaffolding, and there was a fraction of a second in which her eyes widened, body tilting, before Levi moved.

His hand closed around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked her back onto the safety of the scaffolding, but in his rush to grab her he hadn’t the time to brace himself—with his weight unbalanced, the force of his pull sent his body careening forward, tipping over the edge of the plank.

He barely managed to release his grip on Sasha before he lurched over the edge.

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

Levi hit the beams with a resounding clatter. Metal clanged and wood splintered, dust gathering in great plumes as Levi hit the tarp. The beams, built with enough strength to hold steam engines, had no give to them—Levi struck one solidly with his side and his body bowed around it. Something—his ribs, his spine—crunched on impact. The sudden stop made his neck whip down, temple cracking hard against the stone floor.

Every last drop of air punched out of his lungs and a white, dizzying pain exploded in his head. He slumped the rest of the way to the ground, gasping fruitlessly, but his chest, all empty, crushing pressure, would not expand, would not allow for a single wheezing breath.

He lay in a heap on the cold stone. Dimly, he could hear voices, the clatter of feet on wooden planks and the echo of sturdy shoes on the scaffold poles as the kids clambered their way down to him, but everything sounded muffled and distant, warbled by the pound of his pulse and the rush of blood in his ears. He blinked rapidly, squeezed his eyes closed to push the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, then gathered himself slowly, shifting to lay on his back. His every muscle felt tight, seizing from the shock of the impact and sharp, stabbing pain, but despite the tension, something in his side felt loose. He sucked in a few small breaths, pausing at every spike of pain before trying again, and then he pushed himself up to sit. His head felt thick and full, stuffy, too heavy for his neck to hold up. It throbbed with the change of position, a crack of pain so sudden he thought his skull might split in two. He resisted the urge to grab at it as the kids’ footsteps sounded close by, several sets of feet scuffing and clicking against the stone.

Levi pre-empted their concern with a wheezy, “I’m fine,” as Mikasa, followed swiftly by the others, rounded the corner and stopped short of him. “Get back to work.”

None of them moved. Levi focused his swimming gaze on them as well as he could, attempting a glare, but the corner of his eye and the side of his face felt fat, skin tight over the rapidly swollen flesh, and his breathing was tight, uneven, chest jerking with each attempt to fill his empty lungs. Nobody looked intimidated by the sight of him—in fact, all four of the little brats looked almost frightened.

“Captain…” Eren said. Levi scowled, fought not to wince.

“I’m fine.” Gritting his teeth to muffle each pained grunt, Levi grabbed a nearby beam and used it to drag himself up to his feet. His head spun, the ache intensifying to something almost unbearable, and that, coupled with the sickening grinding sensation in his side as he straightened up, was enough to make him sway on the spot. Mikasa was the first to step forward, hovering awkwardly. Levi suppressed the manic urge to laugh—there was some irony somewhere in Mikasa, grudge so steadfastly held, being the one ready to catch him if he fell. Levi shooed her away. His chest ached something terrible, a persistent, resounding swell behind his rib cage. It should be impossible to feel so full, so bloated, yet so empty at the same time.

“You should rest a little more,” Eren said, at the same time Sasha erupted with a wailed apology. Connie looked pale and guilty behind her.

“Hange wants this—shitty thing—finished, by the time—she gets back.” Levi hitched stilted breaths as he spoke. He took a careful step forward. His side screamed, and his head pounded, but he remained upright, which was good enough. He passed by Connie and Sasha, who both looked ashen-faced, and clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’re too tall now, so tall he almost lost his precarious balance when he stretched up to pat them both roughly on the head. Then he brushed past them with as much ease as he could manage.

“Hurry up. The damn walls won’t build themselves.”

**

Levi had expected to be better by the time Hange returned.

The pain had not subsided at all in the three days that passed between the injury and Hange’s arrival—if anything, it had intensified, and Levi’s bouts of dizziness and breathlessness were near constant. He hid it as well as he could from the others, compensating with vicious scowls and quick, barked instructions, but he couldn’t escape their concerned glances.

The building, at least, was almost complete. They had laid the rafters for the roof the day before, and were hammering on the felt when Hange, Armin, and Jean appeared in the distance.

The weather was blisteringly hot. Eren and Connie had removed their shirts long ago, while Sasha and Mikasa had tried fruitlessly to keep their hair off the base of their necks and out of their faces. Despite his lack of manual labour Levi was just as sweaty as the rest of them, though his skin was pale in comparison. He had argued, albeit rather feebly, to do his part in aiding the construction, but the damn brats had put their foot down on that, at least—as such, Levi had spent the last three days sitting beneath the shade, glumly watching their progress.

He stood when he saw the horses approaching. The others climbed down from the scaffolding, wiping sweat from their hands and faces. They cast Levi a sidelong look, and he glared in return.

“Not a word,” he reminded them coldly. Levi had already demanded that they keep the details of his incident quiet. The swelling on his face had gone down some with the aid of a bag filled with cold sea water, but the bruises were persistent, mottled from his eye to his ear. He could play it off as a far smaller incident than it was, so long as he could keep the ugly welt on his torso well hidden. The bruising there was dark, a deep, violent shade of purple, wrapping around his side and bubbling out over his back.

Eren looked uncertain. Mikasa gave him a stoic, level look, while Sasha and Connie still looked sheepish, avoiding his gaze. They had apologised profusely, and on multiple occasions,  for causing such a mess. Levi had, at their insistence, scolded them for messing around, but in truth he had little energy left to care.

Hange waved as soon as they were close enough. She kicked her horse on, Jean and Armin following dutifully behind her. The three of them pulled to a stop and dismounted, leading their horses to shade and water, looking tired, but satisfied. Levi kept his angled down, twisted to one side. He was prolonging the inevitable, he knew, but if he could get Hange talking about the meetings, or with some luck the upcoming expedition, or maybe even the mostly completed rail house, Levi could at least wait until they were alone before Hange battered him with questions.

All three of them had dark circles under their eyes. Armin yawned widely, he and Jean bumping into one another as they walked. Hange, as tired as she looked, strode forward with a delighted confidence—Levi, in spite of himself, quirked his lip in a small smile. It has been too long since Hange looked excited about anything. The prospect of an expedition had breathed some life into her.

“We’ve still got to work out some kinks,” Hange said, “but things are looking good. We’ll set up another meeting with Kiyomi. It might take a little while, but we’ll get out there ourselves. See the world with our own eyes, and—more importantly—let them see us.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged excited glances. Mikasa and Eren shared a more subdued look. Levi understood both perspectives—the prospect of venturing out into the world opened them up to a lot of risks. Each of them carried targets on their backs. One wrong move, and they would be in trouble. But, if all goes according to Hange’s plan, there would be plenty of reward. Freedom was worth any price they could pay, if only they can secure it.

Levi listened as the group reacquainted. Eren and Mikasa seemed pleased to have Armin back in their company, while Sasha hounded Jean endlessly until he relented, and surreptitiously pulled a small pack of cured meat from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had the decency to look embarrassed when he caught Levi’s eye on him, but his abashed expression quickly turned to one of confusion when he caught a good look at Levi’s face.

“The hell happened, Captain?”

Hange, who had been quietly engaged with Armin and the other two, looked around. Levi tutted and curled his lip, letting his fringe fall to cover part of his bruised brow.

“None of your business,” he said. His chest spasmed and he clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden urge to cough. “If you’ve still got the energy to stand around talking, you can get up there and help them finish the damn roof.”

Jean, who either hadn’t quite developed the same immunity to Levi’s brash tone as the rest, or was nervous about Levi scolding him for stealing food from the interior, nodded once and shrugged out of his jacket. Sasha’s eyes followed longingly as he hooked it over the nearby cart sitting on the tracks, but then her gaze shot back to Levi, and she scurried after Jean towards the rail house.

The others followed. Hange’s eye was still on him, and she waited until the group had scrambled up onto the scaffolding and picked up their tools before she crossed over to him. She bent a little, tilting her head to get a good look at his face. Hange let out a low whistle.

“Quite the bruise,” she said. Levi gave her a somewhat guarded look, and carefully shrugged one of his shoulders.

“Brats were messing around,” Levi said simply. “Caught me with a stray elbow.”

He didn’t dare look Hange in the eye long enough to determine whether she believed him. He nodded towards the rail house and said, “They’ll be done in a few hours.”

Hange beamed, bracing her hands on her hips. “They’ve made good progress! I wasn’t sure they’d get it finished by the time we made it back.”

“You wanted it finished,” Levi scowled, “those were your orders.”

“Calling it an order is a little harsh, Levi.”

“You’re our commander, Hange,” Levi said. “You tell us to do something, we do it. By definition, it is an order.”

Hange grimaced. It had been years since Shiganshina, years for Hange to come to grips with the position that had befallen her, and to her credit she had taken to it admirably enough, on the outside. It was only in small, private moments like this that she allowed herself to show doubt. The lack of cooperation from Hizuru had been a blow Hange had expected, but hoped to avoid—she had worked hard on her proposals and her negotiations had been sound, but the rejection stung nonetheless. With each new trial and each new error, Hange felt herself all the more lacking. Her distaste for her own position, for Erwin’s faith, grew stronger, and showed face more often.

Levi took in her sullen expression and winced internally. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

“Who?”

“Zackley. The reporters. The kids.”

Hange let out a low chuckle. “Zackley’s as rigorous as ever. Picked apart every last thing we had to say, highlighted every possible flaw in the plan. Made us work hard, as usual. The reporters...asked a lot of questions we didn’t have answers to. They’ll smear our names in the papers tomorrow, no doubt, but it can’t be helped. We did our best. Armin was a huge help, though. He’s still a little nervous, but—so clever! So full of interesting ideas, and he negotiates well. He’ll make a good commander one day.”

“And Kirstein?”

“He’s an excellent paperweight,” Hange said, shooting Levi a sideways grin. “I appreciated the company, but I think we would have been fine without him.”

“Never know,” Levi said gruffly. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the heat of the sun or simply standing too long, but Levi was beginning to feel woozy. Breathing was still a chore, a concentrated effort to suck air into his aching chest and let it out again without choking, coughing, and more often than not he felt lightheaded. He nodded towards the boxes he’d been using as a seat over the last couple of days. “Sit. You look like shit.”

“For once, I don’t think you get to judge me for that.”

Levi had already begun walking stiffly to the boxes, and made no comment. He had no valid argument to give—he did look like shit, far worse than Hange, and he felt even shittier. He dropped a little heavily onto the box and bit back a grunt of pain.

Hange sat next to him. The box shuddered. Levi tensed as pain lanced through his side. He took in a quick, sharp breath, holding it high in his chest when the pain intensified. He could feel Hange’s eye on him and clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his face somewhat neutral.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hange said to him. Levi grunted. He busied himself taking slow, shallow breaths, staring resolutely ahead, avoiding Hange’s keen stare. “You look a little clammy.”

Levi made another quiet noise. Levi wasn’t very talkative at the best of times—this, he knew Hange was aware of, and most of the time Hange was content to fill the silence herself, but today she was quiet, and watching him too closely. Scrutinizing. Levi had often praised Hange for her powers of observation—she had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for spotting patterns and anomalies, a talent which had served the Survey Corps very well, but right now, Levi was cursing it. He didn’t need Hange surveying him.

He was hurting. He’d had a near constant headache since the incident, and his chest felt tight, riddled with pain both dull and sharp, stabbing whenever he breathed too deeply or gave in to the pressing urge to hack out a cough, but more than that, he felt unwell. Groggy, sickly, light-headed. His heart beat frantically, and his skin did feel clammy, cold sweat sitting on his brow. He stared ahead, blinking the fuzziness from his head and resolutely ignoring Hange’s steady stare.

Hange’s palm pressed to his forehead. The sudden touch made him jump—his muscles tensed, his ribs screamed in protest, and Levi let out a strangled groan, biting his tongue a second too late to trap the sound.

He was barely aware of Hange’s fussing as he fought to draw breath. Air grated in his battered lungs as Hange’s hand pressed flat to the back of his neck, her voice warped and muffled in his ear as she felt his sweat-damp skin. His vision tunnelled. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots and wheezed in the humid air. His chest felt like it might split open, pressure billowing out from behind his ribcage, pressing agonisingly against his damaged bones.

He breathed short and shallow until the haze of pain lessened. Hange’s voice was loud beside him, the sharp, deep bark she used when she felt it necessary to assert her authority. Through the fog in his head he could barely make out her words, but he knew exactly what it was she was demanding. Sasha’s voice was meek in comparison, but it still carried over the distance enough for Levi to hear her.

“It was an accident,” she was saying. “It was our fault—my fault—”

Levi hissed through his teeth. Hange’s hands—one still at the back of his neck, the other curled around his arm—tightened their grip on him.

“Drop it,” Levi said. “Stop grilling them. It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m fine.”

Hange had the audacity to laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Fine? Levi, you can’t even move. You can barely breathe! What the hell did you do?”

“Fell,” he said shortly. His voice sounded weak, but he didn’t have the breath to put more force behind it.

“From where? When? Hell, Levi, when did this happen?”

“Hange, leave it.”

Hange turned her question to the rail house, and Connie answered immediately. Traitors, Levi thought scathingly. Mikasa explained without prompt that they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, that Levi had refused a proper medical examination despite the head wound that had left him unable to stand straight. She explained that they had managed with very little effort to get him to observe the construction from the ground, which, it seemed, was enough to concern Hange—Levi wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. He despised being idle and she knew it.

“You should see a doctor, Levi.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. What else did you hurt? Just your head?”

Levi felt ill. Hange’s persistent questions were making his head spin and his entire body felt sore and spent. He mustered enough strength to glare at her, but nothing more. Hange was watching him carefully, brow furrowed in concern, but at his silence her expression hardened, and she stood abruptly. Levi bit back another groan as the box moved beneath him.

“You can ride, then?”

Levi squinted up at her. “Hah?”

“If you’re fine, you can ride back into town with me.”

No. “Sure.”

Hange stared at him a little longer, waiting, no doubt, for him to backtrack, admit defeat. Levi clenched his jaw and maintained steely eye contact. Hange narrowed her eye at him, then turned towards the rail house.

“Oi!” Hange called up, cupping a hand around her mouth. Six heads turned their way, popping up over the roof. “We’re heading back early. Leave the scaffolding when you’re done, we’ll send for it tomorrow. Good work!”

She turned on her heel and headed towards the horses, still tacked and tethered beneath the shade of a small copse of trees.

“We’ll go get your head checked.”

“Hange, I said I’m fine.” It was a weak argument, made even moreso when he stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot. Hange darted back towards him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and a little of her angry resolve cracked, worry creasing her brow. She led him, more slowly now, towards the horses with her hand hovering over his back. He braced himself for the agony of her touch, if she pressed her palm against him, but Hange—perhaps in fear of not knowing what other injuries he had sustained—didn’t touch him.

“Humour me,” she said. “If you’re really fine, and it’s really nothing, no harm done. I’ll feel better knowing, and you—” she drew them to a stop by the horses and turned to face him fully, grinning, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—you get to say I told you so.”

Levi said nothing. The thought of riding for hours on end made him feel nauseous.

“This is pointless,” he said. “I’ll rest here, if you’re so worried.”

Hange shook her head at him. She untied her own horse and Jean’s, holding the reins out for Levi to take.  

“We’re going back now, Captain. That’s an order.”

**  

An hour into the journey, Levi began to struggle in earnest.

No part of the ride had been pleasant—the heat was oppressive, and the motion of the horse required a fluidity in his hips and back that sent sharp jolts through his side with every step. Hange was uncharacteristically quiet, occupied instead by watching Levi from the corner of her eye. His head pounded with increasing intensity the longer they travelled, and between the pain, and the scorching sun, and his pitifully shallow breathing, Levi was feeling more faint by the second.

It was an unsettling sensation. Injuries were always difficult, but Levi had never felt so completely wiped out by physical damage in the past. Three days was enough time for his body to at least begin healing, but Levi had seen no improvement since the moment he struck the beam during his fall—if anything, he’d felt worse by the day.

Now, he was fighting to keep himself upright in the saddle.

They were approaching another clump of trees, great leaves wilting in the heat, when Levi, jaw tight and teeth bared, grunted out a request that they stop.

Hange looked torn. She wanted to hurry back into town, and was already impatient enough that Levi had requested they walk—”It’s too hot, for the horses”—but something on his face must have reflected the severity of his discomfort. Hange directed them to the treeline, dismounting and taking Levi’s reins while he did the same. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled.

Hange caught him about the elbow but only after he had sunk to the grass. He felt shaky, weak, but more than that he felt vulnerable. Realistically, Levi knew that there was no shame in being hurt, in needing help, but he was a stranger to it. He had been self-sufficient since he was in Kenny’s care, and had grown up with the express understanding that showing weakness was a death sentence. And then again, in the Survey Corps—an injured soldier was titan bait.

There were no titans now, but Levi felt distinctly exposed, sitting in the long grass with his vision swimming and his lungs burning, barely functional.

Hange knelt next to him in the grass. She brought a hand up to his face, fingers curling against his jaw. Her gaze darted over his face, all of her righteous anger forgotten as she took in his state. Levi wanted to shake her off, to shake off the spinning in his head, to stand up and get back on the horse and continue their journey, but he couldn’t find the strength to gather his legs beneath him. Hange’s hands—one on his arm and one still on his face—kept him sitting upright.

“Levi…” Hange said slowly. Words sat on his tongue, reassurance that he was fucking fine, that he just needed a minute, but try as he might, he couldn’t get enough air in to voice them. His chest bubbled and rattled as he drew in a thin breath.

“Levi,” Hange said, sharper this time. Levi blinked blearily and searched for her. Neither of them were moving, but Hange’s image wavered and blurred in front of him. He swallowed. Wheezed. His heart hammered in his ears. Hange’s fingertips found the pulsepoint in his neck, pressing, counting. “Levi—what else hurts?”

Levi swallowed thickly, a nauseous tremor under his tongue. After a moment, he choked out, “cracked a few ribs, probably.”

Hange sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her as Hange began unbuttoning his shit. He swayed where he sat, struggling to balance without her hands keeping him upright, until he heard Hange’s hiss as she uncovered the bruises wrapping his chest and back.

Levi looked down and grimaced. The bruising was worse than he remembered, stretching further up his chest, dark and mottled, the flesh tight and swollen.

“Levi, this is bad,” Hange said. “We need to get help.”

“Just need rest,” Levi said. His voice sounded slow and slurred in his own ears. Hange’s hand cupped the side of his neck, her thumb tipping his jaw up to look at his face. His eyelids felt heavy.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “and I know you don’t want to move, but—Levi, please. C’mon, I need you to get up.”

It had been a long, long time since Levi had heard that frantic tone from her. She sounded urgent, panicked. Desperate. Levi dragged his eyes open, but found he couldn’t focus on her face anymore. His lungs protested violently as he tried to speak, only coughing instead, dry and hacking. His chest burned.

Hange dragged him to his feet. Levi’s limbs felt heavy and clumsy, detached and completely out of his control. He leaned heavily into Hange’s side as she moved him across the grass.

“C’mon, Levi—work with me.”

Hange hefted him up onto one of the horses. Her horse, he realised, as she clambered up with him. She settled behind him, her arms gripping the reins either side of him. Levi tried to sit up right, but as she kicked the horse on, he slumped back with a low groan. Hange’s voice rumbled through her chest when she spoke.

“You good?” Hange asked quietly, and then, “stupid question, of course you’re not.” Levi found the strength to scoff, but it was a pitiful sound, and followed swiftly with another pained grunt and a fit of coughing. “Bear it a little longer, okay?”

Consciousness drifted, as they rode on. Levi was dimly aware of the sun on his feverish skin, and of Hange’s warm, solid body at his back. Her jaw brushed his head when she moved. Her voice was constant now, a rumble up his spine and in indistinct mumble in his ear. At times he could pick out her words, but his comprehension was hazy, mind unable to string sentences together, to find meaning in her chatter.

In this state, there was no focal point for the pain. It was consuming, indistinct but ever present, impossible to isolate in any one location. His whole body ached. His breathing was quick and laboured. There was no real respite even in this state.

Hange’s hand repeatedly found his throat, fingers feeling for his frantic pulse.

Time passed strangely. The ride seemed to last a lifetime, with Levi waking a thousand times to agony, consciousness barely breaking before he succumbed again to his feverish dozing.

At times, he awoke to new sounds and new sensations. The echo of multiple voices around him, all talking frantically over one. The scratch of crisp sheets beneath his bare back, the click of shoes on tiled floor. New, stinging, fiery pain, sudden and excruciating enough to make his body jolt in discomfort, followed swiftly by strong hands on his arms and legs to keep him still. Cool air blowing gently over his heated skin. His hand caught in a loose, tangled grip.

The aches in his battered body settled, localised. Levi felt it acutely in his chest, though the pressure no longer felt as intense. Breathing still hurt, but the air came easier now. He felt his lungs fill with it, little by little, for the first time in days. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light, then rolled his head slowly to look around.

The small window had been cracked open, the fresh, cool air lifting Levi’s fringe, tickling at his brow. Thin morning light poured in, illuminating the small, sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only one small table and a stiff, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Hange was slumped low in the chair. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, her chin dropped to her chest while she slept. She had discarded her military jacket, eye patch, and glasses in a heap on the floor, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons of her shirt undone and splayed open. Her hair hung limp and ratty around her face. She looked pale and exhausted.

Levi’s tongue was dry, tacking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. It took him three attempts to say her name, and when he did it came out raspy and ragged. He tried to move, to reach over and nudge her awake, to ask what the hell had happened since he’d last been lucid—but as he leaned over a sudden, white hot agony ripped through him, tearing into his side.

He gave a strangled groan and pressed himself back into the mattress, squeezing his eyes closed as he rode out the spasms. Wood scraped by the bed; Hange must have startled awake at his outburst. Levi squinted an eye open to see her blinking rapidly, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before scooping up her glasses and taking in the sight of him.

The pain subsided little by little, though Levi didn’t dare move again. Hange sat on the edge of her chair and reached for him, her hand stopping short of his and falling to grip the bed sheets instead.

“How you feeling?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Like shit.”

Hange managed a weak smile. The bags under her eyes were considerably darker than they had been before, her skin paler, papery. Levi frowned at her. “You still look like shit.”

Hange waved him off with a small laugh, sitting back and scrubbing her hands over her face. She hung her head over the back of her chair, fingers pressing into her eyes beneath her glasses. She sat for a long while, observing the backs of her eyelids. Levi watched her through pinched eyes as the burn in his side settled to a more familiar ache.

“Don’t do that,” Hange said, voice strained by the stretch of her throat. “Don’t do that again.”

“Which part?” Levi said.

“All of it. Don’t get in stupid accidents. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don���t—”

She stopped short, then, with a sudden hitch of her breath. Levi watched her dig her fingers harder into her eyes, watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed reflexively. For a moment she was quiet, then she sat up straight and turned watery, bloodshot eyes on him.

Hange was strong. She was a far more emotionally available person than he could ever be, but she had an incredible capacity to compartmentalise. To switch off. To accept the necessity, the inevitability of loss, to evaluate and recalculate and move forward. Hange mourned—Levi had witnessed the aftermath of it plenty of times before, repaired broken tables and reorganised upended bookshelves in the wake of her disaster—but she mourned later. Alone. Felt all her fears and frustrations in isolation, away from prying eyes.

Hange wasn’t the type to cry at peoples besides and beg them to live.

And yet.

“Don’t leave me on my own.”

“It wasn’t that—”

“You dare tell me it wasn’t that bad and I’ll kill you myself.”

Levi clamped his mouth shut. Hange was glaring at him like she might really mean it. Instead of arguing, he said, “what’s the damage?”

Hange slumped forward, elbows on her knees and head hung low. “Broken ribs. Ripped up a few muscles in your back. Collapsed lung. The air pressure in your chest was restricting blood flow to your heart.” She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her messy hair. “You got so fucking lucky, Levi. If we hadn’t left when we did—”

He watched silently as Hange groaned into her palms. She breathed deeply, back and shoulders raising as she did.

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Hange’s head shot up. “By the skin of your teeth, Levi. You—” she took a long, steadying breath, but her voice still shook as she continued, “—you were barely breathing. You couldn’t talk to me, you would hardly even respond to me.”

“Sorry.”

Levi wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Hange looked distraught, her composure tenuous. Levi’s fingers twitched on the sheets, itching to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of reassurance that he was here, he was fine—but he wasn’t fine, and moving so far was out of the question. He gripped hard at the sheets instead. “Sorry.”

“Not you as well,” Hange said quietly. Levi’s chest tightened painfully at her tone—she sounded so small in that moment. Scared. Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so frail before. “What am I supposed to do if you—” she cut herself off again, shaking her head.

“Same thing you always do.” Hange curled tightly in on herself. Levi turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “You keep going, Commander.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“One day or another, everyone you care about eventually dies. You said that.” He listened as Hange’s breath hitched, but refused to look at her. “It sucks. It hurts. But we keep moving forward.”

The mattress dipped by his hand. Levi rolled his eyes down, and found Hange hunched out of her chair, her face pressed into the blankets. Levi sunk his fingers quietly into her hair.

They lapsed into a painful silence. Hange hiccupped and sniffled now and then, while Levi scratched lightly at her scalp. After a long while, Hange spoke again.

“I know those were my words,” she said thickly. “But I can’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Stubborn,” Levi said quietly. He pulled lightly at her hair until she raised her head, wiping her cheeks and nose messily on her arm. “Disgusting.”

Hange managed a bare, wobbly smile. Levi’s hand fell from her hair as she straightened up, and Hange scooped it up in both of her own. She played absently with his fingers, curling and flexing them, rubbing her thumb over the lines on his palm. She seemed to be gathering herself, brow a little furrowed in thought.

“I know we can’t guarantee anything. I know how uncertain our world is. But just—” Hange paused, closing Levi’s fingers around her own, then looked up at him with a fierce determination. “Promise me anyway.”

Levi blinked sluggishly at her. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll survive.”

Levi tensed. “Hange…”

“Indulge me. Just this once, please.”

A promise of that kind was unrealistic, Levi knew this. Hange had said so herself: there were no guarantees. Except, that wasn’t quite true—death, at least, was a constant. The only inevitability they had. The island may be free of titans now, but the threat of attack loomed over them like a persistent storm cloud, black and heavy, ready to give at any moment. And accidents, as he had painfully learned, could happen in the blink of an eye.

Levi was resilient, but he wasn’t invincible.

But Hange was looking at him steadily, her resolve unwavering. She wanted his word here and now. Needed it, maybe, but Levi knew her. Hange valued honesty over everything else. There was no way she could feel at ease with such an empty promise.

Levi sighed.

“You’re a brat, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

Hange’s gaze held firm. Levi felt her grip on his hand tighten.

“I can’t promise shit like that, Hange,” he said. She squeezed his hand tighter still, and her body tensed, shoulders drawing up to her ears. “You know I can’t. Nobody can.”

For one horrible, gut wrenching moment, Levi thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, her good eye looked terribly blank.

“You’re right. Sorry, sorry!” She let go of his hand and sat back in her chair, hands resting on her legs instead. Her voice sounded lighter, more like Hange, but there was something off about it. Something forced. Strained. She adjusted her glasses but didn’t meet his gaze again.

This was the Hange he knew. The Hange who could bury her feelings in the moment, squash them down and push them aside to focus on the rational, the plausible. Seeing her like that didn’t relieve him the way it should have. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a discomfort in his gut, knowing that he was the cause of the grief she felt she had to hide.

It was stupid, the whole situation—how a moment of carelessness lead to this; Levi bedridden, and Hange struggling to hold herself together.

The space between them grew stagnant. Hange seemed a little lost in thought, gaze caught blankly on Levi’s blankets, while Levi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, to change the subject, to be Hange again. But Levi was never one for giving inspiring speeches, and in truth, he didn’t know that anything he could say now would make anything better. Hange would do what Hange always did—wait until she was alone, and vent in whatever way she could.

And Levi, as soon as he was able, would do what he always did, too—pick up the broken pieces and mend as much as he could.

“You should rest.”

Hange blinked tiredly over at him. It had been an age since Hange looked well-rested, years since Shiganshina and the exhaustion of that particular battle had never left her. The burden she carried—everything Erwin had left behind and all that they had discovered since—was so impossibly heavy, the expectations put upon her too much for any one person to handle. Hange had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be worried about him, too.

“Eat something, bathe. Sleep. I’ll still be here when you come back.” After a pause, he added, “I’ll promise you that much.”

Hange gave him a weak, wry smile as she fished up her eye patch, strapping it into place and righting her glasses over it. “I guess I’ll take that. And then tomorrow, you can promise me the same again.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll nap for a couple hours and come back. You should sleep some more too, you know. It’ll help you heal faster.”

Levi grumbled in response, and grumbled louder still when Hange stepped up to the bedside, but he fell quiet when she leaned over, brushing his fringe back from his forehead and pressing a small kiss to his hairline. It was such a simple gesture, and nothing out of the ordinary—Hange had been a physically affectionate person as long as he had known her, always grabbing and hugging and kissing whenever she got the chance—but there was something so tender in it, this time. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed.

Hange lingered longer than was strictly necessary, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Levi could easily have let her stay close, feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his skin until he drifted into sleep, but she straightened up after a moment and Levi was left instead with the cold breeze from the open window. Levi blinked sluggishly up at her. His own exhaustion barrelled in, making his eyes sting, lids heavy. Hange folded her jacket over her arm and pushed the chair into the corner, out of the way.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She said.

“Mm.”

“You’re gonna feel like you got crushed by a titan when the pain meds wear off, so make the most of it.”

“Got it.”

“And you should let the doctor know if anything changes. Straight away, don’t wait around.”

“I will.”

"And there are nurses around, if you get hungry or thirsty. The bathroom is just down the hall too, but they've got bedpans if you need to—"

“Hange.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Hange had already crossed the room as she spoke, but she paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. She deliberated with herself for a moment longer, then said, “hey, Levi?”

“Hm?”

Hange chewed on her lip, contemplating something, a faint blush building on her cheeks. And then she shook her head, gave him a small smile, and said, "Ah, doesn't matter. Sleep well."

She left quickly after that, closing the door quietly behind her. Levi stared at the space she'd vacated, brow a little furrowed; her hesitancy confused him.

But he was tired. His body hurt. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and without Hange's presence to keep him occupied, he consciousness began to drift. 

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. He would ask her tomorrow. For now though, he would follow his own advice; for now, he would rest. 

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms: part 1

Intro <-

Yang:So how we doin this? Drawing straws or... well we actually don’t have straws here so-

Weiss:It’s obvious that you wanna go first.

Blake:Extremely obvious.

Ruby:All over your face.

Yang:Hey now, don’t call me out like that! We all have so much to sort out here. I don’t even know where to begin. Differences could start and stop anywhere for all we really know.

Blake:From what it seems, Beacon itself would have one or two minor changes, but the real changes start after the fall. At least, for you three that is.

Weiss:You saying you’re different?

Blake:Unless you three started going on dates with Jaune at Beacon, then yes, I’m different.

RWY:(They’ve been together that long!?)

Yang:Okay, starting from Beacon...nothing really stands out too much. Jaune and I were just friends. *cringes* Back then, a certain faunus caught my eye.

Blake:Ah...right. I guess that tracks in practically every universe.

RW:Oh yeah it does. You two are joined at the hip.

Yang:Haha, really? Glad to hear it. My Blake and I are best buds! Remnant has never seen such a dynamic duo! Can’t say it didn’t take a lot of time effort after a rough patch. We actually dated in my world.

Blake:Same.

Yang:What!? How long?

Blake:I don’t know, it was pretty on again off again.

Yang:Well for me it was after Haven. Both of us had gotten pretty serious. All the growing we’ve done together and apart had brought us closer. However, Adam unintentionally put a wedge between us. His attempt to change and the problems that came with it were-

Yang stopped midway and saw the confused faces of her otherworldly teammates. They were shocked, confused even. Especially Blake, who looked the most shocked of all.

Yang:Umm did I say something odd?

Blake:Adam, he...isn’t dead?

Yang:Oh, well I guess that’s the start of the major changes then. Blake and I fought Adam at Argus. Stabbed him through the chest and watched him fall down rocks into a river.

Ruby:That lines you with my world. Dude died that day. Like any normal person should.

Yang:Well Adam is anything but fucking normal. Man has the craziest luck. A young women, the winter maiden in fact, she saved his life. She’s not exactly normal either. The maiden, Jacquelyn, ended up sticking by him to see if she could change his ways. This naturally meant we’d run into them again. And that’s how things fell apart.

Blake:What do you mean?

Yang:You were fully committed to seeing if Adam could actually change. I wasn’t, so we constantly butted heads in any situation involving him. Then we would fight about things that had nothing to do with at all. Eventually, we broke it off. We remained on decent terms but I was pretty heartbroken about the disconnect. Enter our lovable blonde idiot. Jaune did everything in his power to cheer me up.

Weiss:Sounds like him. Always such a bleeding heart. That boy just can’t help himself. Let me guess, his kindness and concern made you feel all warm and fuzzy?

Yang:Hehe, guilty. It was more of his willingness to laugh at my puns. Jaune’s always been interesting to talk to. He tries to act cool and calm even though he’s terrible at it, then comes clean right after. Before I knew it I was telling him things I hadn’t talked about with people before. I could tell he looked at me like most guys do, but also genuinely wanted to listen to me. Talk about playing unfair; he got defenseless. Suddenly I was smiling again. Anytime with him was time well spent. Then one day, I kissed him.

Ruby:Happily ever after?

Yang:Not even close! Hahaha!

Weiss:Why do you sound proud?

Yang:It’s funny looking back at it to a certain degree. Gods, I was such a brat. More than a few fights are on me. Between Blake, Raven, and other experiences, my insecurities flared up in ugly ways over nothing. It even got us to break up too. I was officially done with dating. My Ruby was out in an uncomfortable position.

Ruby:I bet! I’d never want you two fighting. Especially in my world. Picking between the person I love and my sister!? I don’t know what will happen.

Yang:I kinda do. *sets up* You’d start dating Jaune because you’ve looked at him since Beacon. The two of you would confide in each other and share a special kind of love, but it would be bittersweet. All because your sister still pines for him and never met to make him leave, and Jaune never says it, but he hates how things fell apart. He’s faithful to you and would never do you wrong, a guy to truly cherish. So... you let him go. Watch him walk back to your sister like you asked, because my happiness was worth that much to you.

Ruby:....

Yang: In my world at least. Honestly it’s still the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do. We must’ve cried over that conversation for hours. I felt so guilty and you only smiled, hugging me tight. Jaune and I had a few more stumbles. Nothing serious though. Eventually we moved in together when the world was saved. You and Oscar got together officially which made me happy. Even made our weddings a competition of who’d make dad bawl his eyes out the most. You won by the way; Raven came back into our family and into dad’s arms. Last but not least I had a baby. Yujin Xiao Long, my fucking pride and joy from above.

Weiss:Wow, that’s a lot.

Blake:What am I doing? Did I marry Sun?

Yang:Yep. You and blondes Blake, I tell ya.

Weiss:Hold the phone! Who am I with!?

Yang:Pretty sure you’re technically single. Buuuut, Neo and your have gotten pretty friendly from what I managed to interrogate out of you.

Weiss:That’s, highly unexpected. For a number of reasons.

Yang:Better believe it. Besides Cinder, a few crazies, and Salem, a few people made something of themselves. Dying sucks after all.

Ruby:You have a dead Cinder?

WBY: You don’t?

Ruby:*crosses arms* Hmph, I’ll wait my turn. Yang, you said you’re the only mother from our team. If Blake and I have been married for quite some time then what, we don’t want kids?

The joyful sunshine from Yang slipped into grayer skies. Her smile faded and it increasingly got harder to look at this Ruby without thinking of her own.

Yang:Are you sure that’s something you wanna know? I’ll tell you, but I didn’t want to bring down the mood with the problems where I from.

Blake:Problems? How big of a problem.

Yang:The biggest we’ve faced. It’s...a lot.

Ruby:Well we’ve listened this far. *takes hand* Lay it on us.

Yang:Pfft, oh boy. So...umm...another secret war came up. One that caused us to leave our friends and family for over a decade.

Weiss:A decade!?

Blake:What gets worse after Salem!? Who tries anything after a grimm queen!?

Yang:So a majority of Remnant was still unaware of her, but a fight like that can only be kept under wraps so tightly. Plenty of people still learned fractions of the truth. A few of those people weren’t exactly nice guys. They idolized her efforts and became her followers that wanted to keep her will alive, starting with taking revenge on the people who defeated her. We were so unaware. So caught up in normalcy. They ambushed us, and I mean everyone. We...we didn’t come out unscathed. Ren was crippled badly. Weiss, you almost your brother. Jaune’s family got hit but thankfully lived. The real casualties were aimed to hurt Ruby.

Ruby:Oh, of course. S-So, either you’re about to say I had no time to start a family, or...

Yang:...

Yang:When I tell you the look you made when you learned what happened to Oscar, to Qrow... that’s the moment it felt like my little sister left forever. Till this day you don’t smile like you used to. Very recently, now that it’s finally over, you’ve started looking better, but those ten years were hell. We choose to go out and fight again, avoiding contact with family. I haven’t had a real opportunity to be in my daughters life.

Ruby:How old is she?

Yang:Sixteen soon. Left her when she was four so you know. *tearing up* I missed everything. Just about anyways. Ironically it was Raven and Adam that helped her through the years with Jaune and Dad. Eventually we came back and ooohh boy was Yujin not thrilled in the slightest. Hehehe. Her right hook is really strong. I only had about a week with her before things got complicated again. *wipes eyes* But it’s okay. We left on good term. Something I definitely don’t feel like I deserve.

Blake:I can’t believe a thing like that would be possible.

Yang:Cults are a huge problem in Remnant now. You’re definitely aware of that. You actually oversee a little group from the shadows to deal with them in secret. An idea you got from experience. Adam works for you and everything. Hate to admit, but he’s become the guy you wanted him to be. Even has a family. I’m grateful to him. He personally kept my girl safe.

Blake:To think I’d hear you say that. Now I know this isn’t my world.

Yang:Don’t get me wrong, I still will hit him if given the chance. My life hasn’t been charmed and sacrifices too great were happening way too many times but it finally has gotten to a point where everyone feels like we’re taking steps towards a better future.

Weiss:Moving forward?

Yang:Yes, I was trying to avoid the phrase but yes Weiss, we’re moving forward. Still... *looks at Ruby*....

Ruby:W-What?

Yang:It’s unreal seeing you like this. My Ruby has become so strong and endured but hasn’t really picked herself up completely. All her tragedy stemmed from the loss of Oscar and Qrow; her last talk with Oscar was fight about kids too. That’s the entire reason she went off alone in the first place. Looking at you I can’t help but question my own choices. If...I just let her stay with Jaune, then maybe-

Ruby:Nope.

Yang:Huh?

Ruby:Look, if I know anything about your world, then it’s gonna be me and I can tell you without a doubt your Ruby doesn’t blame or would consider her own happiness without you. She loved you enough to take the chance to find love again. You really think there’s anything you could’ve done differently at that point. That girl is as stubborn as they come! *smiles* So buck up cowgirl. You deserve it.

A sense of warmth came over Yang as she heard those words. This other Ruby smiled at her with the same love as her own; completely caring about Yang’s feeling before her own. Yang felt so...unburdened. She couldn’t help but cry a little, laughing softly as she did. Who would’ve thought love could transcend worlds? It was so vindicating, therapeutic even.

Yang:Ruby, you’re something else entirely, you know that?

Ruby:It’s my curse. All I ever wanted was normal knees but the world said “no, special eyes!”

Yang:Well I guess I should thank the world then?

Weiss:You said your Ruby is getting better? That’s good. Still, it must be pretty weird looking at Jaune. Can’t imagine how lonely it must feel losing a love twice.

Blake:It never numbs.

Yang:Geez you two, lighten up. We can’t all be depressed. Ruby also didn’t lose Jaune. Actually....there may or may not have been an interesting...arrangement for a brief period of time.

Ruby:Ehhh what?

Yang:Hehehe well, hahaha, ummmm a decade is a very long time without feeling any kind of pleasure in a bleak situation. And you know me, I have to share things with you all my life.

Ruby:OH MY GOD!!!

Blake:*grinning* Yooooo! You loaned out Jaune!?

Weiss:That’s....accurate; in a lot of ways.

Ruby:That’s so scandalous! How could you!?

Yang:I didn’t force it! I gave the option, you said no, then you changed your mind because things got real stressful. Like come on, a decade of death and loneliness.

Ruby:Sigh...yeah. I can see it. Still, it’s so filthy. He’s a married man. What, so I’d just look at you and say “Yang I’m gonna sleep with Jaune, don’t come in the room.”

Yang:....

Ruby:What?

Yang:....Nothing.

Ruby:Bullshit! What is it!?

Yang:*scratches head* Well, I was lonely too, and a week is only so long-

Weiss:Oh so it was a group thing!!?

Ruby:WHAT!?

Yang:Only sometimes!

Ruby:SOMETIMES!?

Blake:HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! THAT IS AMAZING!

Ruby:Why are you laughing!?

Blake:Because that’s just so extreme, and not, all at the same time. I could totally see that happening.

Weiss:Same. Dang, Jaune slept with sisters. That’s dangerously close to being like your dad.

Ruby:That’s different!

Blake:Is it though?

Yang:Eh, I don’t see the problem. We’re all grown and make choices. Plus I’m the one who guided you through awkward teenage changes. It not like we didn’t share a room for years.

Ruby:That doesn’t make it okay.

Yang:Eh debatable.

Ruby:*red* It isn’t though! How could I do something so bold!? So taboo!?

Weiss:It isn’t like you’re the one who did it. Just a version of you.

Ruby:Not better!

Yang:Awwww it’s okay Ruby. Let’s hug it out. Hehehe *opens arms*

Ruby:Don’t touch me!

Weiss and Blake laugh until their sides hurt as Ruby tries escaping the bear hug that terrorized her. Yang’s world found interesting for sure. Weiss finally decides to help Ruby out.

Weiss:Got a picture of Yujin?

Yang’s eyes lit up and pulled out her scroll. Her team huddled around her and collectively cooed like that parents they are at the sight of a blonde young girl with gorgeous blue eyes with a black combat school graduation cap and gown and a certificate proudly raised up high. If it wasn’t for those eyes and shoulders length hair, they might’ve mistaken her for Yang.

Yang:She’s going to Beacon early because she’s fucking awesome like her mom.

Ruby:I think you mean her aunt?

Yang:I know what I said.

Weiss:I bet she’s just as hardheaded.

Blake:What do you think your kid is up to right now?

Yang: Well...*smiles*

xxxx

The girl in question sat at a work bench with oil on her face and her hands busy tinkering with gauntlets. She looked over at blueprints in a journal. If they were right, then she was definitely doing something wrong. How her mother made something so complex was crazy!

Yujin:Come on Yujin. You can fix a car, making gauntlets into a sword that don’t break should be easy!

Footsteps came up from behind her and a plate stacked with sandwiches. She looked up and smiled at her dad that gave her a wink, then kissed her forehead.

Jaune:Haveing fun, you grease monkey.

Yujin:Jokes on you, I like monkeys. Just a few more attempts and I’ll have the coolest weapon in Remnant. That entrance exam is as good as aced.

Jaune:Not if you don’t have a landing strategy. Tomorrow we’re going on a trip.

Yujin:Does it happen to be near a cliff?

Jaune:Who can say? Rule one of being a huntsman, be prepared for everything.

He ruffled her hair and left, laughing evilly. Yujin could tell he’s been waiting for this day. She pulled out her scroll and searched through a collection of videos labeled “mom” and found a super early one. She hit play and watched her mother give a peace sign to the camera as trees increasingly got closer from below.

Yang:Beacon rules!!!! Wooohooo!

The camera flipped and focused on a familiar blonde flailing through the air like a doll in the distance.

Yang:Oof, hate to be that guy! Wait, that’s vomit boy! Hahah, hope he survives. He owes me shoes. Poor dude. I guess he needs more training in flirting and landing. Wait, eugh I think he barfed again! Hahaha!

Jaune:Stop watching that one!!!!

Yujin:Hahaha but it’s the best one. The ending is priceless.

Jaune: *walks back down*

Yang:Well if he survives this I guess I can off him at least I can offer him mints and company. Fake it to ya make Jaune. Between me and Ruby, at least you’ll look like a player. Heh, nah, I don’t think I can support a bunny onesie.

Yujin and Jaune:*grinning* And then she did! *high-fives* Arc charm, baby!

[showstopper35]

Screw-Up: A Wrecker Story

Warnings: angst and then fluff because I figured I needed a happy ending. Way longer than I expected this to be- Summary: Wrecker has been training alone in Kamino lately and he misses his brothers.

Smashing the droid’s head across his knee, Wrecker smirked as the familiar crunch of technological parts sparked and stalled. He threw the remains behind him and looked up at the overseeing Kaminoens.

“Finished your droids off again!“

They just nodded, glanced at a datapad, and then pointed to the facility’s exit. Wrecker sighed, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm. It had been like this for weeks now.

Ever since they got older, the Kaminoens and trainers had split up he and his squad, forcing them into more intensive training to test their skills. He hadn’t seen any of them for over a week now, and it was really starting to get to him. Wrecker didn’t like being alone, especially here, where the scientists were constantly judging and testing him and his brothers.

He made he way to the showers, grabbing a towel and passing a group of older cadets, who cleared the way for him. When he got a few feet in front of them, he heard them break out into snickers. “He’s in the group I was telling you about, the Bad Batch. They‘re all screw-ups, especially him.” One of the cadets whispered, only it was loud enough so Wrecker could hear.

He growled under his breath, frowning. He wasn’t a screw-up, right? He knew he wasn’t the smartest, but at least he could destroy a battalion of droids faster than those boring regs. The steaming water hit his face, and Wrecker winced as it beat against his scar. It was a couple months ago that an explosion had scarred the left side of his face, but it still hurt from time to time. “Screw-ups get scars.” He remembered a visiting commander say during a lecture. “They do reckless things and look where it gets them.”

• • •

Sliding the door to the barracks open, Wrecker was once again greeted by empty bunks. Thanks to this new schedule, the Bad Batch members had barely any time for their barracks.

He sat down on his bunk and looked around at the mess. Empty dishelved beds without the constant typing of Tech or Crosshair’s snarky comments to Hunter. It made Wrecker feel so lonely…the quiet was suffocating. He wanted one of his brothers to pop in, to check on him, even for Crosshair to yell at him for screwing something up. There it was again: He was a screw-up. A mess. Sitting here whining about his brothers, who are probably off being amazing and improving their skills. All he could do was break stuff.

Of course he was a screw-up.

Wrecker frowned when tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He huffed and wiped them away, and stood up. He might as well try to get more training done.

When he reached the door, he heard voices outside. He guessed it was another group of regs, and paused. He backed up from the door, not wanting to hear anymore jeers about him and his brothers. But then the talking came closer, and the door slid open, and in walked Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair. They looked just as surprised as he did, but he didn’t care. His brothers were right in front of him.

“Oh, hey, we thought you still had trai-“ Tech’s greeting was cut off as Wrecker barrelled into him, giving him a huge hug.

“Ack…”

Wrecker set him down and then hugged Hunter, and then finally pulled Crosshair’s squirming body into his arms. “Okay, okay, good to see you too or whatever. Now let me go!”

Wrecker dropped him and turned to grin at his brothers. “I missed you guys so much! I hate this new training.” Hunter rubbed his neck and nodded. “I mean it was nice with the peace and quiet, but then I started to miss you guys too.” They all sat down on their bunks, and Wrecker looked at his brothers. They all looked tired, and he guessed he probably did too. It wasn’t really fair that they had to do all this extra training, but Tech had said it was better for them. But was it really? Sure, it helped them improved their skills, but it also reinstated the fact that they were screw-ups. “Kriff…” He mumbled, and his brothers all looked at him.

“What’s the matter?” Tech asked, but Wrecker just shrugged him off. Hunter got up and sat next to him. Crosshair just glared at them, but they knew he was concerned too. “There were these regs earlier, and they called me a screw-up. You guys, too.” Hunter huffed, Tech frowned, and Crosshair let out a tiny growl as he stood up. “We’re not screw-ups! We work harder than any of those one-trick regs.“ He was almost shouting, and Wrecker looked up at him in surprise. Hunter reached out a hand and rested it on Cross’s shoulder. “Relax, relax. I know. We’re better than all of them, but they’re never gonna see that. But as soon as we get outta here, we’re gonna take whole planets by storm and finish every mission.” He paused to look at Wrecker. “None of us are screw-ups, you got that?” His brother stared back, a smile returning to his face. Tech gave a chuckle from his other side. “Besides, by my calculations, you’ve taken out 45% more droids than a whole squad of regs.“

Crosshair smirked at that. “Yeah, and caused more explosions than a proton torpedo.“

Wrecker’s smile became fully formed. “Hey, it’s not like you don’t blow things up too!” Crosshair rolled his eyes, but a tiny smile was pulling at his lips. Then he glanced at his bunk as if he had just gotten an idea. He gingerly picked up the black, white, and red tooka doll that lay by his pillow. Tech had made “Lula” for him when Cross was younger and terrified of the dark. He had since outgrown his fear, but he still sometimes would cling to Lula when he was upset. He stood in front of Wrecker with a small smile on his face. “Lula says that you are a good brother and not a screw-up. She says you can sleep with her and you better take good care of her. She also says she loves you.” And with that, he shoved Lula into Wrecker’s arms and then retreated back to his bunk, looking mildly embarrassed. Wrecker looked up at him, eyes glistening. ”I can have your Lula?” He asked softly. Cross gave a sharp nod in an effort to hide his smile. Wrecker hugged Lula. “Lula says she loves Crosshair too, and all her brothers, and she’s glad she‘s not a screw-up.” Hunter smiled, and Crosshair gave a little snort. ”I don’t think Lula actually said any of-“ Started Tech, but he thought better of it and just have Wrecker an awkward side hug. Wrecker leapt up and hugged all his brothers again, then sat back down and cuddled Lula. ”Lula says thank you.”

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 14

Masterlist

Warning: language, spanking (nonconsensual, nonsexual) Yandere behavior (of course)

Hello darlings! This is the first chapter I’ve felt the need to put a warning on. It’s really nothing graphic, but I’m still a baby writer, and it was a little out of my normal comfort zone to write. Just a reminder that we do not condone yandere behavior in real life! But I hope you all enjoy the chapter!-- chaotic puff

“Fuck!” She screamed tugging on the restraints that kept her pinned down to the bed, but they wouldn’t budge. Namjoon had fastened the leather cuffs tightly, and the only thing tugging on them did was cause bruising on her wrists and the chains to rattle unsettlingly. Eventually she gave up, flopping back against the mattress to stare up at the ceiling until Namjoon deigned to return.

Part of her wanted to claw his eyes out, but the greater part of her wanted to disappear into the mattress before he could arrive. She’d fucked up. He hadn’t even been this angry when she had tried to jump from the window, but that could have been because she’d not only broken several of his rules, oh no, she’d also ran from him. And then there was Jackson.

Her blood ran cold just thinking of it. She had to warn Jackson. She had to get him out of Korea before Namjoon got to him. She could survive in this hell, but she wouldn’t let Jackson lose his life on her behalf. There was nothing she could do when she was quite literally chained to the bed though.

She could only assume that this was Namjoon’s room. Where else would could it be? It certainly wasn’t her room. But in her current predicament she couldn’t really see much of the room itself, and she didn’t get a good look at it when she was hung over Namjoon’s shoulder. If only she’d been able to make it out further into the garden. Maybe she could have hidden from them. It wouldn’t have been a long term solution, but it would have kept her away from Namjoon and his wrath for a little while longer at least.

She didn’t know how long she’d lain there waiting for his return, but it felt like eons. There was nothing to do but lie there and wait. The restraints made it impossible for her to even take a good look around the room. The worst part of it was that it left her alone with the anticipation of his return, that horrid sinking feeling that came with the knowledge that with his return Namjoon would bring some sort of punishment with him. He wasn’t going to let this pass, not when she’d thrown his ring, the symbol of his attachment to her, in his face.

“Hello, jagiya.” He cooed. She couldn’t see him yet, but her entire body went rigid with the knowledge that he was back. She lifted her head to see him standing at the foot of the bed with a man she had never seen before. “This is Taehyung.” Namjoon introduced a sly smirk on his face as he moved around the side of the bed to come sit next to her. “You see, jagi, Taehyung has a certain… aptitude for technology, and he’s prepared something especially for you, jagi.”

She really didn’t like the sound of that, nor did she like the look of the black case Taehyung held in his hands.

“Namjoon?” She warbled out looking at him with wide panicked eyes, but he only shushed her and beckoned Taehyung forward.

“I had hoped we wouldn’t need such measures, jagi. You’d been doing so well, but it seems I overestimated you. That’s my fault, jagi, but don’t worry.” She was definitely very, very worried. “This should help immensely.”

She watched with trepidation as Taehyung opened the case and pulled out a black band with a little box attached to it. The effect was immediate. Y/N started kicking out her legs and thrashing against the bindings in an attempt to keep both men at bay. She didn’t have much choice, but she’d be damned if she let them put that on her without a fight.

“Hyung?” Taehyung asked looking at the older man a little unsure of what to do, if he was allowed to restrain her.

“Do it.” He confirmed as he moved to hold her legs down.

“No!” She shrieked fighting against the firm hold he had on her legs, but Namjoon was by no means a small man, and she had the greater part of his body weight pressed down on her legs. “Please, don’t!” She begged as tears began to gather in her eyes.

“It’s for your own good, jagi.” Namjoon cooed as Taehyung attached the device to her ankle.

“No!” She wailed as the device was locked in place.

Namjoon moved back up to rest near her head, stroking her hair and cooing soft assurances at her as Taehyung fiddled with the settings of the anklet. “It’s all set, hyung!” Taehyung chirped giving the two of them a boxy smile. “Her boundaries are set for the house and part of the garden. Your phone will get an alert if she strays too far from the house.” He was far too cheerful about her new torture, and Y/N hated him in this particular moment, but not as much as she hated Namjoon.

“Thank you, Tae.” Namjoon nodded dismissing the younger man as he continued to stroke her hair as she silently cried keeping her head turned away from him. It was all she could really do. The cuffs prevented her from moving away from him.

“Jagi.” He cooed once Taehyung had left the room. “Don’t pout. This was for your own good. I can’t have you running out like that and getting yourself hurt.”

“It’s a fucking tracking anklet. Where exactly do you expect me to go? I’m already locked in this fucking hell hole.”

“It’s for your own good. Actions have consequences.”

“Fuck you.” She hissed pouring every ounce of venom she was feeling into those two little words.

“Language.” He barked turning her head so that she was looking up at him and his extremely displeased expression. “You’ve broken enough rules today, don’t you think?”

“I hate you.” She hissed wrenching her head away.

He chuckled smiling coldly down at her. “Oh, jagi. The line between love and hate is very thin. You’ll get over this little temper tantrum soon enough, and everything will fall into place.” He cooed. “It will be better once that pesky police officer is out of the way.”

Her blood ran cold. “You can’t!” She cried tears running freely as she looked at him.

“Of course I can. He’s in my way.”

“If you touch him, I’ll never forgive you.” She hissed glaring at him through her tears.

He was still smiling, but his eyes were sharp and cold, displeased with her. “You’ll forget all about him in due time. I’ll keep you so satisfied that you’ll never need to look at another man.”

“I will never let you touch me.”

“I won’t take you by force, Y/N. You’re my wife, not some common whore, but you will come to me, one way or another. I’m a patient man. I can wait.” She looked at him, eyes just as cold as his. “And we have all the time in the world.”

“I’m not your fucking wife.” She spat glaring up at him.

He hummed noncommittally taking her ring out of his pocket and slipping it back on her finger. There was nothing she could do about it with her hands restrained, but she had the urge to take that ring and shove it down his throat.

“You’re right, jagi. You’re not my wife, not legally, but that’s a situation we can easily rectify.”

She froze, turning to him look at him, trying to see if he was serious, and unfortunately, he was. “No.” She growled. “I won’t marry you, not in this lifetime.”

“It’s sweet, jagi.” He mused lovingly caressing her face. “You think you have a choice in this.”

“You fucking maniac!” She snarled pulling on her restraints in a futile effort to get away from him.

“Language!” He barked glaring down at her. “That’s you last warning, jagi. You’ve been testing my patience all evening, and I’ve been lenient with you. Don’t test me.”

She looked up at him, cocking her head to one side innocently before gracing him with a near angelic smile. “Go fuck yourself.”

He froze, a cold smile fixed to his features. “Wrong move, jagi.”

He unhooked the chained from her cuffs, and she was flipped over, her skirt flipped up followed by an indignant shriek from her. “I warned you, jagi.” He growled as the first strike fell across her ass followed swiftly by another and another.  The hits fell one after the other each one as harsh as the last until she was almost numb from the pain and begging him to stop.

When it was finally over she was a sniveling trembling mess on the pillows. Gently, Namjoon undid the cuffs placing them on the side table before pulling her into his arms so that she was lying across his chest as she trembled. He moved her skirt back down so that she was covered as he ran a hand up and down her back.

“I know, jagi. I know, but you never seem to learn.” He cooed. “It’s over now.”

“I hate you.” She sobbed though she clung to his chest hating herself for finding comfort in the embrace of the same man who had been the cause of her pain.  

“I know, jagi. I know.” He shushed reveling in the feel of her clinging to him. “I’ll call, Miss In to run you a bath, and bring up some tea. Okay.”

Soon enough she had been shuttled off into a warm bath with Miss In overseeing her as Namjoon waited in the bedroom. The older woman cooed and fussed over her like a child, and in that moment, Y/N truly did feel like one. He had spanked her. The pain was bad enough, but it was the indignation that was the worst, the humiliation.

“Here, bu-in. Drink some tea.” Miss In said handing her a cup as her charge sat shocked and numb in the bathtub. “It will help.”

“I want to go home.” She whispered staring at the bubbled that filled the tub as she took a sip of her tea.

“You are home, bu-in.”

And after that she stayed silent choosing instead to play with the bubbles. Eventually Miss In pulled her out of the bath and dried her off sticking her in a nightgown she had brought from the other room. The silky pink fabric fell a little bellow her mid-thigh, and the soft material was gentle against her sore behind, a fact she was very grateful for.

She left the bathroom with Miss In, ready to go back to her own room and sleep for the next century. She was exhausted.

“Where are you going, jagi?” Namjoon called from his position lounging on the bed with a book, glasses perched on his nose.

“Back to my room?”

He smiled softly putting the book aside. “You’ll be staying here from now on, jagi.”

Y/N looked to Miss In as if to beg for help, but the housekeeper had already left the room. “I think I’d prefer to go back to my own room.” She murmured eyes fixed on her feet and the cursed tracking anklet.

“It’s not up for debate, jagi. Now come to bed.” He held out a hand beckoning her to him. Made no effort to move. “I’m waiting, jagi.”

Reluctantly she moved to join him choosing to stay on the opposite end of the large bed. She was so far to the side, she was almost falling over the side as he turned out the lights. She heard a sigh and the rustle of blankets before an arm snaked across her waist pulling her into his chest. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before settling down behind her.

“Goodnight, jagi.”

She was thankful for the dark, he couldn’t see the tears as they silently fell down her face.

part 15

[artxyra]

Her Little Robins | Tim’s Addition

“Hey, what’s a little kid doing outside on this cold winter night?” Little Timothy Drake turns around face red. He tries to hide the pair of binoculars behind his back. There standing before him is one of Gotham’s vigilantes—Kismet in her dark red halter bodysuit with black heeled combat boots and matching jacket. Her red and black mask covering her eyes that was clearly amused to see the young boy watching for the heroes.

“I, um… cookie?” Tim digs into his backpack and pulls it a single Oreo. Kismet giggles and takes the sweet treat away from the boy.

“But seriously kid, what are you doing out here all alone, in the middle of the night no less?” Kismet asks once again; however, this time she takes a seat next to the boy who was now pouting for being caught in such a situation.

“Robin and Batman are my favorite heroes,” He beams, “The way that they work as a team and beat the bad guy. I have every villain card that can be found in Gotham…and I just really want to meet them up close.” Tim’s enthusiasm fades away as he continues to talk about the vigilantes. Kismet hums in responses never once interrupting the boy.

“That was a nice explanation…” Kismet says but her voice fades leaving the blank to be filled.

Tim notices her trailing off and pipes up, “I’m Timothy, but everyone calls me Tim.” He smiles at the hero to which she rubs his head much to his liking. “Hey,” He whines squirming away from her.

“It’s nice to meet you Tim but isn’t it past your bedtime.” Kismet wonders tapping her chin with a thoughtful look on her face.

Tim becomes deflated. “They won’t notice that I’m gone.” He murmurs turning his attention to the bag that lays deflated on the ground. Kismet presses her lips together and places a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they did, do you wanna talk about or do you want me to take you home?” She asks the second Tim turns to her with watering eyes.

“Don’t you have patrol?” There is hope in his voice.

“This is Batman’s city, I’m just visiting, so technically I don’t have to worry about patrol right now.” She answers finally sitting down next to the young boy. Tim not knowing any better rest his head on her arm. Kismet tense but one look at how comfortable the kid was against her made her relax. “Tu es trop précieux pour ce monde, Tim.” Tim was too precious for the world that is within Gotham.

“What did you say?” He asks softly.

“How about I tell you stories of my adventures until you feel comfortable to go home?” Kismet offers, deflecting Tim’s questions. There will come a day when Tim will learn French that day is not today. Tim nods excitedly and looked up to her with a question in mind. She nods giving him the approval he needed to climb into her lap. Kismet begins to tell him her first mission being Kismet. Starting the blossoming mother-son relationship that Tim desperately needed.

~*~

Tim was having a rough day. This morning his assistant insistent that the Co-CEO of WE should not be drinking coffee after a certain time, which just so happened to be right before noon. They should be lucky that Tim didn’t fire them right then and there. He needs coffee to survive a single workday at WE and that was just his morning drinks. Then during a meeting, there were missing reports upon missing paperwork that still needed to be signed and approved for projects that were ready for the next step. He just wants to take a break and enjoy the remains of his day.

“You know, you shouldn’t work on an empty stomach, my petit oiseau de café.” The one person that could make his whole day bright joke from behind. Marinette was wearing her usual business casual getup which consists of a pale pink blouse with her signature apple blossom emblem on the breast pocket and a grey (sometimes black) knee-length pencil skirt. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but he knows she isn’t upset because of the playful look in her eyes.

“Coffee?” He queries with underlying hope.

“Coffee.” She replies with a chuckle. “But I’m driving.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tim says as she jingles the keys in front of him.

The two share a smile as Marinette walks closer to him and grabs his wrist.

Tim misses this feeling. Here he was sitting at the Cozy Miracles Café, a café that is specifically for him and his mother figure to hang out without any disturbance, drinking coffee, and talking. They spoke about the company and how its success is growing before switching the subject every now and then. Tim had asked her about any latest trips that she had gone on since her last visit. Apparently, she’s been to Brazil, Taiwan, England, and Japan a couple of times. Each visit was for a different reason. However, after a while, their conversation turns into long periods of silence and more looking at one another with worry.

“Timmy, what’s wrong?” This question takes Tim by surprise. He was hoping that she wouldn’t catch his depressed state. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to even answer that question as he knows she’ll go all mother bird on him. Which is ten times worse compared to Dick’s.

“It’s nothing, ‘spresso.” He sighs but he should know better than to say something like that.

“Tim, you’re barely an adult, and yet here you are running a multi-billion company. I may oversee retail and own twenty-five percent of the company, but I can tell when you have a lot on your shoulders. Does this have anything to do with your brothers? Bruce? You being RR?” She wasn’t wrong with either of those options.

Tim stays silent, which did nothing but cause her to pout. Instead of opening her mouth, Marinette gets up and orders another round of coffee. Nothing fancy, just something to sip on. She returns and slides back into her seat with fresh cups of drinks.

“Alright, oiseau de café, I’m here to listen. I promise I won’t tell Bruce, nor Alfred. Psychologist honor.” She says holding her hand up giving him her word.

Tim takes a big breath, pulls the fresh cup of coffee closer to him, and opens his mouth. The words came out like a flood. All his anxieties and fears aired out like they are usually are when speaking to Marinette. By the time he was done, he was close to a breakdown. Marinette had gotten up and wrapped her arms around him.

“Tu es digne, Tim, et personne ne peut te l’enlever.” He is worthy of everything he has been through, and she was right no one could take that away from him. For years he felt unworthy of being a part of the Wayne family like he was only here because Jason had died. He remembers Bruce being reluctant about taking in another Robin. If it wasn’t for Mari, he probably still be trying to prove his existence to Bruce. No matter how many years and discussions have passed, he still feels like an outsider. Marinette never treated him like such.

“Thank you, Mari.” He whispers to her to which she smiles and places a kiss on his forehead.

“Ahem,” The two coffee addicts break apart to be greeted Damian, someone that probably should have been at school. “I am in need of tatie’s assistance.” He states keeping his head held high. Marinette looks back at Tim silently communicating to see if it was okay for her to leave. Tim shrugs and drinks his coffee like he hasn’t just cried his heart out just moments ago.

“Of course, Dami, do you wanna speak in my car or go for a walk.” She asks after sending Tim a bright smile.

“Walk, please.” Marinette nods and gets out of her seat and usher Damian out of the café.

Tim pulls out his phone and sends a text message to the group chat he has with his older brothers. The message was simple, and it was, “Demon just invaded my one-on-one time with ☕” The replies he received were hilarious and worrisome.

It turned out that Damian didn’t need Marinette for anything, he just wanted her away from Drake. This caused Marinette to take Damian out for ice cream before allowing him to return with her to WE for the rest of her workday. Bruce was not happy with Damian, who actually skipped school in favor of spending time with his tatie.

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[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XV

A/N: And here we have the first of the queued chapters! It’s a little shorter because I didn’t have much time, but still good, I think :) If you agree, feel free to leave a comment, and I’ll have the other queued chapter up Saturday! Skål!

Summary:  When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

If things were now strange between Ivar and Aethelind, neither of them acknowledged it. Hvitserk had finally been given word he was to leave Kattegat, and so the morning he was meant to leave, he had said his goodbye to Thora before going in search of Aethelind. Perhaps most men would have handled any business they needed to before leaving, but he had to be sure she was well warned against Ivar, before he could leave with peace.

He found her wandering through the market, just as she’d said she’d be at that time of the morning. When Aethelind saw him, she smiled sadly and walked to meet him halfway. “Hvitserk,” she greeted. “I take it you’re on your way?”

Hvitserk gave a nod, and sighed as he took her hands in his. “Ivar has sent me to speak with King Olaf. He wants to form an alliance with him.”

Aethelind nodded slowly and offered him a small smile. “I’m sure Thora will miss you,” she said. “I certainly will.” She gave his hands a little squeeze and he chuckled softly.

“I will miss you as well, Princess,” he said. “Please, keep an eye on Thora. Ivar isn’t happy with me, I don’t know what he’ll do while I’m away.”

Aethelind nodded a little. “You have my word, I’ll do all I can,” she promised.

“Thank you,” he said. “It seems he listens to you. But also, be careful of Ivar yourself. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust him with you. He is crazy.”

Aethelind smiled softly at Hvitserk, and shook her head. “I still disagree,” she said. “Ivar isn’t crazy. He’s wrong, about a lot, but he isn’t crazy. I just hope he’ll listen to me enough to do what’s good for your people.”

Hvitserk nodded his agreement, before pulling her close and embracing her. “Take care of yourself, Aethelind,” he whispered. “And I will see you when this is all done.”

“When…” she began, and looked up at him with concern in her eyes. “Hvitserk, what are you planning?”

He didn’t answer her, simply took her chin in his hand and kissed her forehead. “Stay safe, Princess,” he whispered, and slipped away into the crowd.

Watching him go made her heart ache, her fear for him rise into her throat, and as she blinked, she blinked back tears which threatened to fall. Hvitserk would be fine, she was sure. After all, he was a Son of Ragnar. Of the four of them she’d known, Aethelind had no doubt that those boys were capable of just about anything they set their faces toward. It must have been the way their father had raised them. Well, for the years he’d been around, anyway.

Ivar and Hvitserk both had spoken to her of the years he’d been gone, the fact they had lived ten years of their lives without him. They’d almost grown up without a father, really. Perhaps Ubbe and Hvitserk had grown up enough with him, and Björn obviously had him through his entire childhood- as many years as he had on his brothers- but Sigurd wasn’t even a year Ivar’s senior. Those two…

She wondered how much they had really gotten to know their father at such a young age.

Nothing truly changed while Hvitserk was gone, not until a few weeks passed. Then… everything changed. And, as these things tend to go, it did not change for the better. In fact, things got much, much worse.

Freydis and Ivar were coming closer and closer to meeting their little Baldur every day, and the Queen herself didn’t tend to stray too far from the Great Hall. As he was a rather protective man, Ivar was becoming more sensitive to any words that could be taken as a threat to himself, his wife, or their as of yet unborn son. He had also grown rather protective of Aethelind, though there weren’t very many who moved against her.

So, when the statue in the middle of the town was found split down the middle, he panicked.

Someone intended to move against him. Who that was, exactly, he couldn’t say. But the pig’s head attached to the statue said enough. There was rebellion in the town- he had picked up on that much, had warned his people of it- asked them to speak to him or his men if anything was heard, but apparently…

Aethelind had been right. Nothing was reported about rebellion, about revolution, but the people were turning against him. She had warned him about asking his people to report anything, and now he was seeing the fruit of his decisions.

Still, this had not been something she’d call… paranoia. In fact, when Aethelind herself had seen it, her heart had stopped in her chest, and she’d gone immediately to find Ivar. There was no confirmation just yet that he was alright, that this wasn’t an announcement made to the town that Ivar the Boneless was dead.

It couldn’t be that. Well, of course it could have been, but Aethelind wouldn’t have known what to do if it was. What would she do if someone had assassinated Ivar? Take care of Freydis of course, somehow. Perhaps she would take her back to England, if things were dangerous enough for her there in Kattegat.

Whatever the case, there was no good in panicking just yet. She needed to verify if Ivar was alright or not before she began deciding what to do with Freydis. So, heart pounding, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her to the Great Hall. Ivar’s guards had learned quickly not to try and stop her from seeing the King, that he’d only have her let in regardless of what he’d instructed them anyway, and they didn’t try to stop her just then. They opened the door, let her inside, and wondered what was with the wide eyed look on her face, the panic in her eyes.

“Ivar!” she shouted, and her voice carried through the nearly empty hall. He didn’t come out, but Freydis did, a hand on her back as she did so. The poor woman seemed too pregnant at this point to be wandering around.

“Princess,” the Queen greeted with a warm smile. The moment she saw the fear in Aethelind’s face, however, her smile faded and concern crossed her features. “Aethelind, what is it? What is wrong?”

“Ivar,” Aethelind said. “Where is he?” She was panting slightly from the run, which only added to Freydis’s worry. Something must have happened, she knew, or she wouldn’t have been in such a hurry or a panic.

“He has stayed in bed today- his legs…” she began, and Aethelind was rushing past her before she could continue explaining anything.

She burst into the room Ivar shared with Freydis, and found him looking up at her with confusion written across his face. “What is it?” he questioned. He had come to know Aethelind well enough to recognize that sort of fear and worry in her.

When her eyes met his, she let out the breath she’d felt as though she’d been holding since she first saw the threat. He was alive, and he was safe. It hadn’t been an announcement that Ivar had been murdered, then. Everything was alright, for the time being.

“The Square,” she told him. “The statue… It’s been split in half down the center, Ivar. Someone pinned a pig’s head to it. I thought- I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or-”

“Or if I had been killed already,” he finished for her. Freydis and Aethelind both watched as Ivar pulled himself up with the chains above his bed. “Do not worry, Princess, I cannot be killed.”

“You can,” she countered. “I wouldn’t have been so worried otherwise.”

Ivar smirked a little as he looked up at her. “I need to go and see this threat for myself,” he said. “My armor.”

Freydis went to find it, but Aethelind immediately put a hand on her shoulder. “Rest,” she said. “You’re so close to having Baldur. I can handle his armor.”

“Thank you,” Freydis replied sweetly, and put a hand on her friend’s arm. Aethelind nodded and kissed the side of her head affectionately, before Freydis went off to do exactly that.

Watching Ivar get his armor put on- or doing it herself- was actually a rather stressful thing for Freydis. Because of this, she decided to go and oversee the preparation for the arrival of Baldur. This left Aethelind alone with Ivar.

After that moment a few weeks ago, this hadn’t yet been the case. Things had shifted so much between them, and Aethelind had spent most of her time with Hvitserk after that, creating something of a strange space now. Ivar had never experienced this sort of thing, not aside from what had happened with Margrethe, when she had come to fear him.

Part of him now worried that Aethelind feared him as well. Why she would fear him, based off what had happened, he couldn’t quite say or guess, but he thought the fear may have been there. Maybe it was what had happened at the Þing, maybe it was what had happened after the thing, but whatever it was, the space felt insurmountable to him, and he hated it.

He hated how suffocating the silence was in the room, now that Freydis had gone, and now that Aethelind had explained to him what she had seen, there was nothing more he could think of for them to discuss. He should have sought her out more, after what had happened, he figured. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so quiet as she gathered the pieces of his armor he needed to wear, maybe then they would be able to talk like they had before.

She brought over his vest and chestplate first, handing them off to him so he could put them on while she went to find the braces he wore on his arms and legs. By the time she had grabbed his arm braces, and returned to him, he hadn’t yet finished his chestplate’s buckles, so she handed him the arm braces, telling him, “Go ahead and put these on,” while finishing up the chestplate.

Ivar did as he had been instructed by her, but he watched her with a slightly confused look as she silently went about her work. Her brows were creased slightly as she was concentrating, and he noticed how her mouth hung just slightly open. His observations kept him from working very quickly, and so when she noticed this, she huffed.

“Do you want to get out there and see what’s been done or not?” she questioned, turning sharp eyes up on him. He couldn’t keep himself from swallowing a little. Being under that sort of gaze from her wasn’t the most enjoyable thing.

Still, it prompted him to ask, “Is being alone with me so bad?”

The question clearly caught her off guard, as she straightened up and blinked a few times while she watched him.

“Of course it isn’t,” she answered. “Why would it be bad?”

“You have spent all your time with Hvitserk, since the Þing. When he left, you turned to your training. You spend much time with Freydis, but never with me. Hm? Why is that?”

“I do spend time with you,” Aethelind tried to argue.

“Mm, you do not,” he said. “You have when I am with Freydis. But she, you will spend time with where no one else is there. But you avoid that with me as though I might bury an axe in your chest, given the chance to have no witness. Is that what you think I will do, Princess? Is that what you fear?”

Shock registered first on her face, and then confusion, at what Ivar had just asked her. “What I fear?” she repeated. “Ivar, I’m not afraid of you. You’re right, I’ve not spent very much time with you alone, but… I thought we’d probably both understand that was for the best.”

“For the best?” he echoed. “How was it for the best? You told me much of what was happening in England, and this was very helpful to me. You also told me what you thought of all the decisions I made at the Þing- your honest thoughts. Who else could I trust to do those things?”

“You can still trust me to do them,” she said, “but you clearly must have forgotten what happened that day. I don’t fear you, Ivar. I fear what we may do if given the opportunity.”

“What we may do?” he questioned.

“You held me,” she answered. “I allowed it. If I were married, and I found my husband holding a woman the way you were holding me… I would want to leave him. He couldn’t convince me he wasn’t having an affair with her. You can’t tell me you’d feel comfortable with another man holding Freydis that way.”

As if to prove her right, Ivar didn’t answer, and simply looked at his hands. She had started to put his braces on him, tighten them as they needed to, all while she spoke. The lack of a response from him was enough to convince Aethelind that she was correct in thinking what she did.

“I spent my time with Hvitserk and Freydis not because I no longer enjoy your company, or because I had come to fear you. I did so to keep that from happening again, to keep something worse from happening. You have a wife, and she is about to have a baby. If there even was a good time for you to enter into an affair, now would not be the right time. And I won’t be the ‘other woman’. I won’t do that to Freydis, nor myself. Your family needs you, Ivar. Be there for them.”

Her hands took his as she spoke those final words, and held him in his place. Her eyes again were focusing in on his, but this time, as she nearly pleaded for him to understand.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He understood this all too perfectly- after all, he had only been born because his father had once found himself in a similar place, and made all the decisions that led to this point. For his marriage to Lagertha, they had been the wrong decisions. For his own life, for the good of Kattegat, they had been the right ones.

That was being a King though, wasn’t it? He would always have to do what was right for his people, even if his heart and mind beat wildly against it. He had to be a commodity for the greater good of Kattegat.

“We can decide that will not happen,” he said. “I do not want to lose you, who I believe I have had on my side since we were children, to a strange moment that passed between us.”

Aethelind gave him a fond smile. Clearly, there was something about what he’d just said that she disagreed with, but found endearing that he thought that way. It was a rather strange thing to read in an expression, but he had learned hers well by this point.

“I wish it were that simple, Ivar,” she said genuinely. “I really do. I’m sorry it isn’t, truthfully. But, you deserve someone on your side who is there for no other reason than a desire to see you thrive, and succeed, and to see your people cared for as best you can do so. I want to be that person, and I intend to be. But it isn’t so simple to say ‘we won’t feel this way’. Do you know how much would be changed in the court of my Kingdom, if it were? I wouldn’t have been born, myself. I know my parents started the same, denying what they wanted but taking no measures to keep theirselves from taking it.”

Ivar tilted his head slightly, not understanding where she was going with this. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t decide to explain herself. She did sigh, however, and look back to him once she’d finished his arms. “Let me get your legs done, and you can ride out and see what’s been done,” she said, effectively changing the subject.

He gave a small nod, watching her as she did this. It was going to feel too long, the time she was in Kattegat, if they couldn’t be free just to enjoy each other’s company. But he figured this must have been some funny custom they had in England. Perhaps self restraint wasn’t taught the way it was to his people. (Not that they were all taught such a thing, but as the King, he’d had to learn.)

She didn’t take long to get his legs in the braces, having figured out how they worked when she’d taken a look at his injured legs, and then he was up with his crutch. He thanked her for her assistance with the armor, and she smiled, telling him he had been more than welcome to her assistance. He ended up offering her to come with him back to the square, even up on the chariot he rode when his legs bothered him, and she accepted.

After all, Aethelind had taken something of an advisory role in Kattegat. She may have been there as a contact for Alfred, first and foremost, but her mind was sharp and sound, and Ivar valued her ideals and input.

So, when she accepted, she rode back out to the square with him, and there she was witness to the way his eyes darkened at the sight, the barely contained rage in them. Again, she became witness to the man all his brothers- save for the late Sigurd- had warned her about. A chill ran down her spine, and she began to wonder if she shouldn’t pray for Ivar’s mercy on the town of Kattegat.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

[thejustmaiden]

Jaken = Rin's Dad?

Okay, is this how a daughter treats their so-called father?

Most definitely not.

Rin and Jaken's relationship clearly screams of your typical sibling rivalry punctuated with cute and silly moments of playful bickering.

Yes, Jaken may technically be her main provider, but that doesn't necessarily equate to him being more of a father than Sesshomaru. If anything, he demonstrates more of a brotherly love towards her. As we all know, parents (which Sesshomaru embodies more based on real life patterns and parallels) will leave their older more capable children in charge of looking after their younger brothers and sisters. In this case, that would mean making Jaken responsible for watching over Rin and protecting her if need be. Ah-Un offers protection, too. Think of it as Jaken as the big brother and Ah-Un as the family dog who are babysitting while Sesshomaru as the parent of the household is away at work or taking care of business. I mean, they literally fit that description to a tee and I'm dying at the accuracy of it all! 🤣👌

[Quick! Someone write up a modern au where Sesshomaru finally gets out to have a nice date night but everything goes wrong in the most spectacular way. Like maybe Rin and Jaken catch a ride on Ah-Un to go spy!]

I recently revisited some episodes from The Final Act, and I couldn't believe how many moments like this there were where Rin got after Jaken or when she would "put him in his place" so to speak. Obviously, all of it is mostly harmless. I was only surprised by how often it occurred, not to mention how Jaken would just stand there and take it. Towards a supposed father figure, Rin's behavior is downright unacceptable. There's a certain level of respect a child is expected to show their parents/guardians, and that's just not what I'm witnessing here between them. Like at all.

Rather their dynamic has the nature of some sibling relationships like I mentioned above. So I really wish fans would stop pretending otherwise, because based on what we know of father-daughter relationships- healthy ones at least- they don't appear anything like what Jaken and Rin have. If you could please provide me other examples of where we've seen similar portrayals in fiction or in real life, then perhaps I can get on board.

Look, that doesn't have to mean that because Jaken isn't her father then Sesshomaru must be. They can both be her caretakers without necessarily filling that traditional father role. I'm just saying that if we're going to start assigning titles to characters, let's make sure we are accurate and truthful in our assessments. If you're going to label anyone Rin's dad, then it needs to be Sesshomaru. Jaken doesn't have precedence over him in terms of fatherly attributes, that just wouldn't make sense.

After all, this isn't about what you want to see, this is about what Rin very likely sees. It's safe to assume that she views Sesshomaru more like a father than she does Jaken. She knows she's safe with him (broadly speaking lol) and that he'll come for her no matter what. That sense of security and comfort is what a child seeks and what they should always feel in a parent's presence. She trusts and even idolizes him, just as a young and innocent child tends to do with their parents. At that age, parents are perfect and could do no wrong in their child's eyes. Idk about you, but this describes perfectly how Rin is around Sesshomaru.

Rin adores him and will follow him anywhere- yes, even into danger! That's what the innocence and unconditional love of a child will bring them to do if necessary. Fortunately, at the end of The Final Act we learn Sesshomaru takes Kaede's advice when he realizes that leaving Rin with her in the village is in her best interests. That way she'd be able to lead a more normal and safer life alongside other humans. Remember, Sessrin shippers, that doesn't mean he wasn't still a part of her life and didn't witness her become a young woman over the years right before his very eyes. Therefore, if they eventually do become romantically involved, then most if not all of those gifts had intimate and seductive intentions and it essentially constitutes as child grooming.

I understand from a Sessrin shipper's point of view why it'd be so much easier to claim Jaken as the father. In doing so, they diminish Sesshomaru's role in her upbringing. By refusing to acknowledge the real role he had in helping raise Rin (short periods can be crucial and impressionable too esp. in a child's early years so yes they did assist in raising her not only Kaede), these shippers are better able to justify how their filial-like relationship evolved into a romantic one. So yeah, I get it, if I were a Sessrin shipper I'd probably do the same. It's one of the more plausible arguments available to them, after all. "Let's pin Jaken as the father to fend off antis!" is the best chance they've got, but even so, it's still not good enough. But if you insist Jaken is indeed like a father to Rin, then Sesshomaru is most certainly one too. Who says she can't have two fathers anyway?

The thing is however much you want to deny or downplay what Sesshomaru truly means to Rin and vice versa, nothing will ever change or hide the truth of the matter. Please, stop acting like they're only traveling companions and nothing more. Some of y'all even go so far as to say that they're like strangers. Knowing potentially little about a person is not equal to a lack of love and affection. Making big assumptions such as this to defend your ship is actually doing you more harm than good. Let me elaborate.

According to your reasoning, if that's all Rin ever was to him was a companion and Sesshomaru had no real attachment to her, then what precisely is the basis of your ship? Recall that Adult!Rin doesn't exist yet, thus we have no real idea what she will be like or if she's even alive. So how can you make comments like that but then go on later to say "they have such a unique and unbreakable bond" or "only Rin can be the mother because she's the only human he ever cared for" if all that time spent traveling together didn't amount to much in the first place like you claimed to believe beforehand? Do you see how your rationalizing is confusing?

Contrary to what some of you may think, I'm not just saying all this because I'm an anti and I'm obligated to disagree with you, or whatever other excuse you want to tell yourself. Believe it or not, I'm attempting to give as unbiased and objective of an analysis I can based on widely accepted interpretations of family dynamics, development, and any history we know of.

Of course I respect that at times fans will perceive things differently since that's bound to happen. What's hard for me to wrap my head around however is the unwillingness of some fans- not exclusively Sessrin shippers- to apply basic common sense and sound judgment to their observations and deductions.

Looking at all our facts, then taking the small handful of scenes Sesshomaru and Rin do share together into account, one can logically conclude that their dynamic is akin to one found in a typical parent-child relationship. If you still fail to recognize Sesshomaru as a parent to Rin, then that's fine too. In the end, that won't really change the fact that he'd still take on a role resembling an adult figure overseeing a young child's care and protection. Be it as a vassal, guardian, what have you. Plus, nobody is saying here that Sesshomaru doesn't make mistakes regarding Rin's general well-being, but so do all parents. Overall, I think the majority of us agree that Rin is in good hands. Whether it's in his direct company or in his occasional supervision from his frequent visits to the village.

In other words, it doesn't really matter what exact title you assign him in relation to Rin, as the distribution of power is all inherently the same with any and all adult-child relationships. That bond never changes once you've established it either, seeing as it's a special kind of connection one can only form with a child and a child alone.

I was a teacher for a few years, and speaking from personal experience, you don't need to be a parent, per se, to take on a role of authority in a child's life. I know without a doubt that I could never and will never view any of those kids I taught in a sexual/romantic light later down the road; yes, not even once they become grown-ups who are independent and more than capable of making their own decisions. Those of you who disagree are usually missing the whole point though, because we're not trying to dictate what Adult!Rin can and cannot do like many tend to accuse of us doing. This isn't a question of taking away from her autonomy nor does it fall under "purity culture," which is why people shouldn't continue jumping to these outrageous conclusions and really listen for a change. You're deflecting from the real issue here when you choose to misinterpret what we're saying by ignoring the problem we're actually referring to. You cannot present a valid counter-argument if you persist in twisting our words.

Bottom line: once these kids become old enough to pursue a sexual/romantic relationship, of course they have that right if they're ready. All we're trying to say is you guys ought to stop pushing forward this it's-completely-normal-to-want-to-bang-your-adoptive-dad-since-you're-an-adult-and-can-do-as-you-please agenda and not expect backlash. Ship it if you want, but please stop acting like their romance would be the epitome of a pure and healthy relationship.

Sesshomaru may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but it's foolish to presume he didn't actually care about Rin during their whole time together just because he didn't openly express his feelings until the very end. Surely everybody can comprehend that people handle and process their emotions differently. The way Sesshomaru chooses to is completely valid for the most part, so let's cut him some slack regarding this already.

What I'm trying to get at is that any child whose life you played an influential role in will always be a kid in a lot ways to you even when they're old and wrinkly. Just as they will always picture you as the loved one who guided and protected them when they were most vulnerable and couldn't always fend for themselves. Can't we relate this to children we know personally and apply it accordingly?

Finally, I want to end on this note. Could you kindly take a look at these two images below for a second?

The reason I ask is because of something I recently read that's relevant to the topic. There was this pro-sessrin tweet I saw that stated Rin trying to take care of Sesshomaru when they first met is what a mom would do for a child, which in their opinion, translates to Rin being more like a mother than a daughter if anything.

First off: are you freaking kidding me????

Seriously, so now children aren't allowed to tend to their sick or injured parents?! Parents are apparently superhuman and shouldn't be offered a helping hand from a child, even if they mean well and want to help their parent who's in pain?? Now this Twitter user was mostly being a smartass, but at the same time, it was evident they genuinely thought they offered a valid enough point that warranted no further explanation or clarification.

Secondly, by saying this Sessrin fans don't seem to realize that in actuality they're contradicting themselves and proving the point we've been trying to make all along. Glancing at the first picture and moving down to the second, the role of the one being cared for and the caretaker is reversed. So then by their own logic, Sesshomaru IS in fact like a father to Rin.

What it comes down to is the names you give to the roles these characters play aren't as crucial as the dynamic they share. The specific characteristics of that dynamic are what define the importance of said role, not so much the name in the role itself. So real father or not, Sesshomaru and Rin clearly mean a lot to each other. Close relationships are defined and solidified by the devotion and belonging they have to one another, not solely by the duration of time spent together and their proximity.

Well, that's a wrap! I hope you guys got something outta this blog, and that you enjoyed or found some portions of it interesting. I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject from this fandom, but only engage in conversation if you plan to be respectful. Thank you!

[ironmandeficiency]

our love will (never) end

pairing: dogma / reader

word count: 3414

summary: all you wanted was for dogma to come back home but you don’t recognize the broken man that comes off the ship coming straight from umbara.the next time he sees you, he doesn’t recognize you either.

warnings: implied canon typical violence, angst af, umbara happened, lemme know if smth was missed

a/n: don’t say i didn’t warn y’all. no beta just me drinkin’ my dumb bitch juice

you’d spent more than half your life around the clones, had become used to their presence since your mother was recruited to train them in combat. had even helped with the youngest ones when they were fresh from their tubes, washing the fluids from them before wrapping them in their first set of clothes. the clones had become your brothers and friends, and they were much better company than the longnecks that occupied tipoca city.

once you were old enough, you joined them in their training. you learned their battle techniques, the subtle languages they spoke without uttering a word, you were one of them.

that’s why the losses sustained at the battle of geonosis, the first true test on the training they spent their lives surrounded by, wounded you so deeply.

days after the battle you were able to weasel your way into the records kept by the longnecks. it took you nearly hours to finish scanning the holo list of numbers, and only seconds for the grief to thrum through your veins, to settle into your bones. so many of your friends were lost that day, many that you had given names to, and your shoulders were aching under the weight of a loss that substantial.

then they were assigned to generals, jedi that probably wouldn’t care about who they were as men, as living beings with hearts and minds and souls that were far more different than the origins of their creation led people to believe. kamino had never been so empty as it had been once battalions were formed and assignments given, thousands of soldiers being sent to war.

the solemn emptiness took some getting used to, as did the togruta jedi sent to kamino to oversee the functioning of the cloning facility. she was kind though, and none of the clones appeared afraid of her so she was okay in your book. the one thing that you had yet to get used to was the fear you’d see in the eyes of a clone before their first assignment.

even though this is what they were raised to do, was what they were told by the longnecks was their only purpose (it was banthashit and you never hesitated to express as much), there was still a residual fear because they had seen brothers come back from the battlefield. they also knew that not all of them returned to their battalions once they left the front lines.

this knowledge was common, and there were many secrets told to you by long dead men about things that would have gotten them into trouble with immeasurable consequences. things they did to pass the time, things that made them happy like singing or writing poetry. it didn’t take you long after bonding with the clones as a young child that you realized that you were different than them, that you were lucky to be able to play and smile and be a child.

you lamented this discovery to your mother once. all she said was that the soldiers were dealt a shit hand by the galaxy and that they were lucky to have you to make it better for them. then she would tell you bedtime stories and fairy tales she knew good and well that you would relay to your identical brothers young and old.

but these days, you weren’t allowed to show the clones that kindness, that silliness that you were able to have with your brothers all those years ago. you were an adult now, and as such you would soon be expected to aid in the training of the republic’s soldiers despite a lack of actual outside world experience. you hadn’t left kamino since you arrived here as a child and had never used your training in a real-life situation.

what if you failed them? what if you taught something wrong and it resulted in their CT number being the next to show up on the lists of casualties? you were quaking with fear at the trust being placed in you.

which is why you were sitting outside during the kind of downpour kamino was known for, each raindrop heavier than your heart. no bother was given to your sopping wet state nor to the fact you’d get sick from this.

then you were joined in the rain by a familiar form.

“your immune system isn’t made to withstand this weather for very long.” some would have thought him to be uncaring, even callous and dickish with his words, but not you. this was the way he showed he cared about you — very seldom with those exact words, and never in a way where someone he didn’t want to know could see that he cared.

your eyes flitted up to his before returning their focus on the crashing waves around you. “my heart wasn’t made to withstand you leaving me.”

he sank to the ground beside you, the sound of his breathing being heard once he removes his helmet and lays it down beside his sitting form. an arm finds itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, a gentle kiss being placed against your rain-slick temple.

his touch warms you from your nose to the tips of your toes in spite of the cold rain pouring down. it was something he was able to do effortlessly and it never failed to bring a smile to your face. “i’m never truly gone, cyare. you’ll always be able to find me no matter where i am in the galaxy.”

a gloved hand found your shaking ones, his thumb smoothing over the top of your hand in an attempt to quell the shaking. you squeeze it in thanks and let yourself be pulled into his lap by it, your face quick to nuzzle into his neck.

“promise me you’ll be safe, dogma.”

“of course, my love.”

when he joined the five-oh-first comms were as frequent as possible, and when you weren’t able to talk to him, your eyes would be glued to the casualty reports that made their way to kamino. his number was never among the most of the dead, thank the stars, and that knowledge would sustain you until he would finally have the chance to talk to you again.

it was late into the night cycle when your private channel beeped, signifying an incoming call from dogma.

“that last mission… it was rough, cyare. i’m sorry i couldn’t comm you sooner.”

“never apologize, i know it’s not easy out there.”

dogma could never grow tired of the way you were so patient for him, for the things he did day in and day out. it made what he was about to say even harder for him.

“this next mission isn’t going to have any free time, we’re being sent planetside on umbara within two rotations. i don’t know how long the planetary takeover will last, but there won’t be a moment where we’re not unconscious or fighting. i won’t be able to talk for a while, my light. please understand.” he sounded almost in tears, like there was a lump in his throat trying to keep the words from escaping, to keep from hurting you.

you didn’t like to hear him like that. your strong and brave dogma crippled by emotion was never a comforting experience, especially when you couldn’t hold him and guide him out of the dark spaces his mind crawled into.

“never feel guilty for doing your duty, for keeping your brothers safe. just be sure you come home to me when your duty is done.”

“i’ll always come home to you, i swear it.”

the longnecks were in a tizzy three days later, rambling about a defect on the front lines. the sounds of a panicked kaminiise was not a sound you thought you’d ever hear again after what happened on christophsis. you eavesdropped plenty but you could never catch a CT number or a planet or a battalion name which infuriated you to no end. it was time to check the most recent records to see if you could find something there.

the morning cycle was minutes from beginning when you made your way to an unrestricted holoscreen where several reports were pulled up. your eyes scanned the writing; there was the familiar list of the dead, several more numbers sending waves of grief to crash against your soul.

information about how three members of the five-oh-first defied orders and flew umbaran ships in a successful attempt to destroy the separatist ship giving supplies to the enemy, and the death of one of the troopers involved in the unsanctioned air raid, one ct-6969 — hardcase. another wave crashed against your weary heart and was beginning to turn your insides into a hurricane that kamino’s oceans could only dream of rivaling.

there were details about the botched execution of two clones who defied the aforementioned direct orders from a general pong krell, ct-27-5555 and ct-5597 — fives and jesse.

pong krell wasn’t dogma’s general, wasn’t the general of the boys in blue. that was anakin skywalker and dogma spoke highly of his jedi general the few times he was brought up in conversations. pong krell, even though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the besalisk in person, knew of his reputation.

he was cruel and vicious, using the lives of those under his command as rungs on his own ladder of wartime success. many of the brothers you loved perished under his commands and his name was an eyesore.

most jarring was the depiction of how a clone shot general pong krell in the back, and how the clone’s sentence was to be decided upon once they arrived on kamino.

that meant one of three things: euthanization, reconditioning, and experimentation followed by one of the former options. none of them are by any means pleasant, but you hoped for that trooper’s sake that they were allowed peace no matter their offenses.

but now one question remained: who killed the jedi general? why was his CT number not mentioned in the files? you had to talk to dogma, to make sure he was safe, that he was finding healthy ways to grieve the loss of hardcase, to cope with everything this report says occurred on the shadow planet.

“i know you said you wouldn’t be able to talk while on umbara but i just read the reports sent to the longnecks. i’m scared and i need to hear your voice for a second, just a second, please.”

“i heard about hardcase,” you sniffled and swallowed your grief for one of your dearest friends in the name of supporting your beloved. “what him and jesse and fives did… the death of the jedi. please answer me, i need to know you’re okay.”

“you know i wouldn’t ask this of you any other time, but please give me something, tell me you’re alive! tell me you survived the carnage of pong krell!”

“dogma, answer me please! you’re scaring me!”

“ner kar’ta, please don’t make me add you to my remembrances. please, dogma, don’t make me do it…”

“dogma… ni kart’ayl darasuum.”

fitful sleep came with you clutching your commlink against your heart, tears falling like rain. there was a good chance that maybe he was mangled beyond recognition, or maybe they haven’t noticed he was missing yet. there had to be a reason dogma wasn’t on the list of the lost and why he hadn’t answered you.

then your commlink crackled you life. “who is this and how do you know dogma?”

did fate exist only to torment you? that’s what it felt like in this moment.

“i’m not answering any questions until you tell me where he is and how you found that commlink.”

logic told you that the person on the other end was indeed a clone, but your mind was too jumbled for you to recognize who it was. you had to clean up the mess your love left behind you and dogma, anything to keep him from punishment.

“the name’s fives, the comm was confiscated when we… when we had to court martial him for disobedience.”

disobedience? dogma? those words may start with the same letter but they couldn’t be more juxtaposed if the words themselves put effort into it. then your mind reminds you of details from that karking report and you suddenly feel like you had been tossed into the roaring waves below you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

the arc trooper grew enraged in his grief, in the horrors of what he saw on umbara and the audacity you had to accuse him of hurting his brother. “he did it to himself! he did it to protect us all from that demagolka even though no one ordered him to! when no one had the courage to do it, not even rex!”

what did your cyare do? your heart was in denial of the ideas your brain supplied because now they were leading to the same place.

“was he the one that killed krell?”

silence.

“fives! was he the one to-“

“yes! kriff, it was him! he’s the one who did it!”

dogma remembers the besalik’s traitorous admission and the way he manipulated dogma for his own benefit, to divide his brothers enough to keep them from revealing his plan. the way he and the five-oh-first fired on their own brothers, how their own brothers fired on them. naive death caused by what dogma discovered was the blind loyalty he heard others talk about when it came to following orders.

he remembers the feeling of the bracers around his wrist as he was escorted to the laat, the nods from his brothers as they give him respect he isn’t sure he earned for killing the man who caused them so much suffering.

the only thing that his mind doesn’t bring to his attention is the commlink that was stripped from him when taken into the umbaran cell, the only means of communicating with you without taking immeasurable risk.

he’s halfway to kamino by the time his mind registers that it isn’t with him and it’s the first true fear he’s felt since he was led into the cell by his own brothers and krell revealing how he manipulated every last one of them.

his thoughts drifted to what would become of him once he returned to the planet he was born on, the planet where he met the only sunshine he had to speak of on the shadow planet that sealed his fate. he hopes to see you before he’s punished for his actions but that’s uncertain. there’s no guarantee that you’re going to know he was returning, even more so under the circumstances that he’s coming back under.

there’s one certainty dogma has through all of this: he’s going to die on kamino. but if he’s able to see you in person and hold you in his arms one last time, then he’d accept death with open arms.

the last thoughts that run through his head as he’s being pulled from the ship and into longneck custody are of talking to you only days before, when things were still okay, when there wasn’t friendly fire instigated by a traitor, when dogma hadn’t killed a jedi.

his duty was in fact done, and he was coming home, but there was no guarantee that you would be part of that home, not after what he’s done.

you fail. despite the strength of your love and determination to find him, you don’t.

in all your years of finding longneck secrets and reading their reports, there was nothing on dogma. there was no record of his presence here and it was chilling. you knew the sorts of things that could be found in reports (and they were by no means pleasant), but if even these assholes weren’t going to keep digital record of it, it must be bad.

no one even saw the arrival of the ship dogma was carried in and there was no footage from any of the docks’ security cameras. your lover was a ghost, a wisp, a memory. even the cadets that dogma had known before he deployed (slightly older now, almost ready to be sent to the front lines) seemed to forget about their ori’vod.

it was as if dogma didn’t exist outside of your own head. like he was a figment of your imagination that you would conjure when the nights got lonely. you frequently drew his v tattoo in hopes of you keeping its pattern fresh in your mind because dogma deserved to be remembered. for his sacrifice, for his loyalty, for how deep his love ran not just for his brothers and the republic, but for you.

months flew by with endless searching, digging through files and scouring the base when no one was around. it was all in vain. dogma was no more; at least, not the dogma you knew.

you had found a new normal in your life on kamino. taking up the torch of training young cadets that your mother carried before you, doing your best to ensure their survival in a war built to destroy. dogma was carried with you always, but you stopped asking others about him, resigned to keeping him in your heart like a deep secret. what little hobbies one could find on the rainy planet were indulged as you tried to refill the time you allotted to talk to your cyare before he faded from the memories of his brothers.

since obtaining your new training role, many of the clones looked to you as an authority figure and not an equal. you were a superior now, and they treated you as such. there were no words in any language that you could find that could convey how uncomfortable you were with that, not when you had grown up with so many of them, had swaddled them when they emerged from their growth tanks.

although, there was one clone whom you called a friend these days that didn’t treat you with the same rigid respect his batchmates treated you with. his name was novak; he was kind and loyal and attentive, and if you squinted under the bright fluorescent lights you could see the faintest outline of a geometric v on his face.

that had to be your imagination playing tricks, you reasoned. you’re mostly sure you had seen that same shadow on the face of every clone in the days after dogma’s supposed return to kamino. then again, nowadays you only had this thought around him and no one else.

“got my assignment,” he told you one day over breakfast. “the 327th, under general secura and commander bly.”

“i hear she’s a great jedi, novak. you’ll be in good hands.”

he nods and hums in acknowledgement around a bite of food. there’s a look on his face that tells you he’s deep in thought and for a moment you think you’re looking at a ghost, but then his eyebrow ticks up and the illusion fades.

“my squad and i, we’ll be headed to felucia. and i, uh, wanted to ask you something before you left.” his demeanor changes. before he was casual, relaxed, and you had no idea what switch flipped that now had him fidgety and with the beginnings of a stutter. “could i… could i possibly comm you while i’m there? my batchmates are gone, and i don’t really have anyone else i want to talk to. but if that’s something you’re not comfortable with then you don’t have to do anything i wouldn’t want to cross any bound-”

a finger pressed to his lips ends his rambling. “novak, i would like that a lot.”

it took two weeks.

novak spent two weeks on felucia before he and most of his squad were either killed by droids or devoured by the various flora and fauna of the jungle planet.

the trooper’s last thoughts were of you.

he had been having dreams about you for months. they were of late night conversations through holo about things he had no memory of. time spent in the kamino rains holding each other tight as if letting go would be the end of life as you knew it. the love for you that seemed to have appeared overnight. you would never know these things, and novak regretted that until his last breath.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Secret of Downfall (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The Secret is the only way for them to be together. But how long will they be able to keep it until Madam President will find out the truth? And how easily it will be for them not forget about the rules in public? Couple of drinks in and the darkness… will it be possible for them to keep a secret? Or will they fall ones again in the arms of each other?

Words: 2216

Rating: T

Warning: fighting / cruelty / violence

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve. I hope you will like this chapter, it’s quite short and probably mostly not what I expected it to be at first. I hope you still enjoy reading this series.

Sequel for The art of Foreign Affairs

Previous parts of The Secret of Foreign Affairs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The next morning, after getting caught in a compromising situation, Claire entered the common room of the suite only to find her mother and her whole team camped out around the kitchen island.

Nervously Claire looked around the room, throwing a quick glance toward Tatum. Her eyes trying to catch his gaze, but he almost seemed to be going out of his way to not meet hers. His fists clenched by his side and he looked as professional as ever, if not for the way his eyes darkened slightly, that it could be easily missed, but not by her.

“Uh, good morning,” she cautiously said looking around the room, feeling the tension only grew when all eyes fell on her. “Mom? I thought you left.”

“Really? I was forced to come back to clear your mess. Apparently, my daughter failed to notify me that she got caught by paparazzi with her pants down,” she snapped, showing a copy of Voyeur magazine into Claire’s hands with a picture of herself and Tatum on the cover. She could feel how her heart skipped a beat, while she took in the picture. Breathing out in relief only after realising that it wasn’t possible to tell who was on the cover with her.

“Ohmygod...,” gasped Claire, feeling how her face went pale. Thankful that no one could possibly know who she was with, blurting that out loud. “At least you can’t tell who it is with me...”

“THIS... THIS what you can tell in your defense???” fumed her mother, her eyes narrowing with spite when she glared toward Tatum. Her gaze calculating, trying to break through his facade, to read him, but still in vain. And her lips pursed by barely suppressed fury.

“It does provide us some cover...,” intervened one of her mother’s political analysts. “But it’s also causing a feeding frenzy online. Everyone is speculating on who your mystery lover is. I would suggest to give a statement identifying the mystery lover. Once we can show this isn’t Claire being... promiscuous with some random stranger...”

“So... Claire? Who is it?” asked her mother, tapping her stiletto heel against the wooden floor impatiently. “You heard her,” she said nodding her head toward the political analyst from her team. “If you want your name to be cleared and all that mistake left behind, you cannot keep that to yourself. The only way we can fight this thing is if you tell us who it is."

Claire’s eyes snapped up to meet Tatum’s gaze across the room. His expression is as impassive as ever, but the spark of fury in his eyes flaming.

“I will NOT name them,” exclaimed Claire fiercely, crossing her hands over her chest, stubbornly meeting her mother’s glare. “I will not drag them into this. The world doesn’t need to know every single detail about me or my love life.”

“Don’t you think that this is a little bit too late to thing about that? And clearly this person is a bad influence on you. You never acted like that before,” snapped her mother.

“Or maybe I just realised that I own it to myself to live a little,” bit Claire back.

“Claire...,” hissed her mother, lowering her voice so only she would hear her. “I will go through your phone if I have to. Is it clear?”

“Seriously? You have so little respect for my privacy?”

“It’s not that, but your future is in jeopardy now. And I’m worried about you.”

“Let’s at least be honest with each other. All that you care about is you and your campaign.”

Claire’s mother opened her mouth to retort, but Winston cut her off.

“Let’s all calm down and see what we can do to spin the story with information we already have,” said Winston, looking around the room before placing his hand on Claire's mother’s elbow and pulling her to the side. His voice lowered to the whisper so only she would hear. His eyes surveying the room so they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone. “Madam President, we don’t have enough evidence that this mystery lover is your daughter’s bodyguard. Last time we had letters, this time we have only words of some guy from Vancross and the fact Claire was lying. We will make sure that our plan is set in motion as soon as possible, but meantime you need to wait while your team will gather more evidence of who this mystery lover is and twist it so he is the one who sold pictures.” Both eyes fell to Tatum, watching him to put a hand to his earpiece before stepping forward.

“Madam President, the limo is ready for you,” said Tatum. His posture stiff, his voice even and his eyes looking into nowhere.

“Good. Tatum, escort me to the airport. I want to talk to you about a few things. Demarco can oversee Claire’s security this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am”

Claire’s stomach twisted, when her eyes passingly met Tatum’s, while he followed her mother out the door. Leaving Claire and Winston alone.

———————————————

Hastily, they walked to the limo, Tatum following only a few paces behind Claire’s mother with her security team walking in front of them. His mind racing, and he couldn't help but have a really bad feeling of where this was all going. The same way as all these years ago.

Just before the limo he looked back to the building, catching a quick glance of Claire, behind the blinds. Even from there he could see the worried expression painted on her face before finally tearing his gaze away, and sliding into the car.

“I know you and Claire were at the club together last night, care to explain?” started Claire’s mother, as soon as they sat in limo.

“I’m the head of her security team, ma’am. And it is my responsibility to follow her everywhere and to make sure she is safe,” said Tatum.

“Yes, but Winston checked and at this time you should have been off duty and Demarco should have been with her, and even more so not to let her wander at night to some underground club.”

“She would sneak out anyway. I overheard her speaking with some of her classmates. Ma’am with all due respect,” he spoke through gritted teeth not even looking at her. “But you know there was no way of stopping her, she would sneak out anyway with me or without and she would never take agent Demarco with her.”

“Fine, but people noticed how cosy you seemed to be... getting tequila shots, and then disappearing... together. Am I wrong?”

“No... but she insisted. She cannot understand why I’m like... like that.”

“Like what?”

“We were friends for more than a decade for almost two decades, and then I just disappeared from her life for 5 years only to suddenly reappear now.”

“Lie to her.”

“I tried, but if you think that your daughter is so naive to believe some white lies you don’t know her at all. She can see straight through me. Always could,” said Tatum with cold blooded calm, finally meeting Claire’s mother’s gaze.

“Then make her believe. I have ears and eyes everywhere, so better do as I ask and don’t you dare lie to me. As, if I will find out you or she are lying, and it seems she became surprisingly good at it, the consequences will be for both. You and her. Is it clear?” said Claire’s mother waiting for Tatum to nod, when the limo stopped. “Good. But I still believe you may need a reminder of what will happen if you will disobey me,” spoke she when the doors suddenly slid open revealing the iron walled warehouse of Vancross’ airport. And she nodded in a silence order for Tatum to get out of the limo.

He looked around after stepping outside of the vehicle, noting the fighting ring in the middle of the floor and five bodyguards waiting already next to it. Claire’s mother walked silently behind him.

Her stiletto heels tapped on the metallic floor, and her next words bounced as a muffled echo from the iron walls of the warehouse, when Tatum stopped. His eyes calmly following Madam President’s movements till she finally sat in a comfortable chair covered by the darkness.

“Fight,” the cold order came from the shadows, while Tatum’s calculated gaze moved from one President’s personal bodyguard to another.

All strong. All coming from the Rutherland’s best fighters club. All ex-soldiers... and all hated him.

He knew that he had no chance for a fair fight. He also knew that willingly or not he still will need to fight them. And he doubted that he had even a slightest chance to remain unscratched, but he still needed to try... for Claire... Always for her.

“Ma’am, wouldn’t it be easier just to kill me?” asked Tatum in a calm voice, throwing only a sideway glance at Claire’s mother, regretting only one thing, that he couldn’t say proper goodbye to Claire, couldn’t kiss her like it would be their last time. Not sure if he ever will have another chance to kiss her again.

“You may get your wish... later. After I will get more proof that you are her mystery lover. For now it’s just a warning to keep your distance from my daughter. No more disappearing together... no more smiles... no more eye contact. You may think you are subtle, but she isn’t. So you will fight them, and you,” she looked at her bodyguards with a cold unmoving gaze. “Make sure that every blow you will send his way will be excruciatingly painful but not visible. He is still a head of my daughter’s security team, and I don’t need unnecessary questions. Not from her, not anyone. I want him to remember this last lesson, and my last warning... but still be alive, at least for now. Now fight,” she barked, nodding to two others bodyguards to get Tatum and throw him onto the ring, taking him by surprise.

He landed on his hands and knees with a thud, groaning from the impact, when the first blow went straight to his guts, but his reaction was faster. He blocked it with a side of his shoulder. The force of the block sending the attacker to the floor before getting back to his feet and looking around.

His eyes darkened with rage, but it was the only thing that gave him away. With his peripheral vision he could see another blow coming his way, blocking it faster than it could reach its destination, but almost missing the swing from behind. The one that he managed to dodge at the last second, only to be met with a sharp blinding pain from someone hitting him straight in the stomach with the heavy military boot.

The pain made him sway, but he stubbornly held his balance gritting his teeth. No way he will let them beat him so easily... the thought is fleeting, but strong enough to almost physically heighten his senses, making him dodge the next strike easily. Overcoming the pain and finally sending his own hand to connect with one of the bodyguards’ jaws. Feeling how the skin on his knuckles split from the impact.

His breath elevated and ragged. And he could see how the rage started to rise in the attackers, when the blows began to pour one after the other from all directions, making them much difficult to dodge or block, and more often to miss. But he was still trying, desperately.

Tired. Angry. Bleeding. He was still bravely fighting. Gritting his teeth, ducking the punch after the punch, before landing a couple of his own. Watching how the five fighters getting tired... exhausted, but still unable to send him to the ground and make him stay there as every time he fell he was stubbornly rising back to his feet. As he was fighting for her... she was the only thing that kept him going... Claire... his Claire. The same thing, that he was so cruelly beaten for loving.

And after a while it started to seem that even five of them would be not able to break him. His eyes meeting Madam President’s gaze, distracting him only for a split second to miss the attacker behind him. He could feel a pair of hands gripping him from behind. Felt how the others started to punch and kick him from all sides taking the opportunity as a sign, while two held him still. And he could feel how with the next blow in his groin followed by another one in his stomach the wind was knocked out of him, and he fell to the cement floor with a gust of pain. His ribs aching, and he could barely breath feeling the sharp pain shooting through him with each gulp for air. His eyes closing, but he still could feel the pain, wishing for the darkness to follow, when he heard the quiet voice whispering right into his ear:

“Now clean that mess, and make sure tomorrow you will be good enough to accompany Claire to her date... with Blaine.” The cruel last words like a sharp blade sliced through him before the merciful darkness finally swallowed him.

Tagging: @choices-bound​​​ @jamespotterthefirst​​​ @mercury84choices​​​ @k2624​​​ @thefrenchiemama​​​ @choicesreal​​​ @starrystarrytrouble​​​ @boneandfur​​​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​​​ @sophxwithers​​​ @ramseysrookiex​​

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 12 who are you

the world minus one 

summary 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Woo,” he says.

“Ha,” says Peter. He grins. “That rhymed.”

“I’ve been assigned to oversee your home detainment,” he tells him, flashing his card as if he were a magician, and they were at a magic show, instead of the most boring place on planet earth

OR

Agent Jimmy Woo is assigned to oversee Peter's house arrest post far from home, and Peter's eyes see probation officer but his brain screams FRIEND.

Peter considers chopping his foot off.

Did he really need two feet? Maybe Mr. Stark could fashion him a prosthetic like he did for his own Infinity Gauntlet damaged arm, or maybe Peter could spend one of his annoyingly long days trapped inside this apartment figuring out how to do it himself.

He’s exiled to a much larger apartment than the one he and May share in Queens, but somehow, it still manages to be cramped and suffocating, as if the air there was thick and might smother him before the boredom drove him up the walls.

That is if his ankle monitor doesn’t choke the life out of him first.

He pulls at it, itching at it from his place sitting in the middle of the living room floor, when the doorbell rings and Peter stops, he frowns. Mr. Stark isn’t expected to visit him today, and May isn’t due for dinner until a couple of hours.

With a sigh, he stands and walks across his apartment. He opens the door to an unfamiliar face wearing a familiar and unwelcome FBI jacket.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Woo,” he says.

“Ha,” says Peter. He grins. “That rhymed.”

“I’ve been assigned to oversee your home detainment,” he tells him, flashing his card as if he were a magician, and they were at a magic show, instead of the most boring place on planet earth.

It’s an awkward moment. Him just standing there, in the hall, and Peter basks in his ability to make a Fed sweat.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Are you a vampire?”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Vampires,” sighes Peter. “They have to be let in. Feds usually don’t wait for an invitation. Not used to one having manners.”

Peter walks away from the door, leaving it open, and hoping that’s enough of an invitation. It isn’t like he has a choice anyway.

Agent Woo shuts the door behind him, and something stabs at Peter. He’s being rude. His aunt taught him better than that, and there’s something about Agent Woo that Peter decides he likes. The magic trick, maybe.

Peter offers him coffee. Agent Woo looks over at the kitchen, which is admittedly a disaster zone, and politely declines.

“So, what’s your job?” asks Peter. He clears a space off of the dining room table for them to both sit down. “Making sure I’m not staging an escape attempt?”

“Basically, I’ll be dropping by from time to time, to ensure you’re behaving yourself,” says Agent Woo. “Tony Stark did bribe me to harass you about your online classes and that’s not typically part of my job description, I need the money for my children’s college -”

“-you have kids?”

“Not yet, but I plan to, and with the way the economy is-” Agent Woo pauses. “We’re really supposed to be talking about you.”

“I’m behaving myself,” says Peter. “I’m attending my online classes, and I’ve got no plans to take up a new identity and flee the country. Now back to you. Anyone special you’re planning on having these kids with? I need all the details.”

It’s true. He does.

There isn’t much entertainment in his life what with being locked up in an apartment, spending most of his days alone. It’s for May’s safety that they aren’t able to live together during his house arrest, during the massively long stretch of time before his trial, but that doesn’t mean Peter likes it.

Agent Woo spills something about a doctor before pausing a second time and getting back on track. He recites the same information Peter’s heard before. It’s really boring and a waste of time, but Peter supposes he’s got lots of it to waste, anyway.

“Any questions for me?” Agent Woo asks, once he’s finished with his spiel.

“Can you show me how to do that magic trick?”

“Maybe another time,” he tells him, then looks around. “You know, a lot of people in your situation find it helps to form a routine and create a clean living space. Waking up in the morning, showering, putting on normal clothes.”

Peter frowns at the sudden callout. “Who says pajamas aren’t normal?”

“Just offering some friendly advice.”

He stands, and heads for the door, telling him he’ll be by in a couple of weeks, when Peter feels the throbbing near his ankle.

“Agent Woo,” says Peter, before he gets to the door. “You wouldn’t, um, know how to loosen the ankle monitor? I may have been what Mr. Stark fondly refers to as tactless with the agent who put it on and they may have retaliated just a little bit.”

So, Agent Woo loosens the ankle monitor, and Peter, once he’s alone in the apartment, collapses on his couch and decides that he and Agent Woo are going to be friends, despite the unsolicited advice.

*

Peter’s prepared the next time Agent Woo visits.

Coffee is going, the apartment is clean, and he’s got five packs of playing cards laid out on the kitchen table. It had been a lot of whining on his part to convince Mr. Stark to drop everything and run to the store and buy them, but this is an emergency. A magic emergency.

He’s also ordered a pizza, and it arrives just as Agent Woo starts his regular round of checkup, interrogation questions.

“Oh, that’s the pizza,” says Peter, when the doorbell rings.

Agent Woo opens his mouth as Peter leaps up from his chair, but ultimately doesn’t say anything. Once Peter’s back to the kitchen table, he opens the box and lets the aroma fill the apartment.

“Want a slice?”

“That would be crossing professional bounds…” says Agent Woo. His voice trailed off. He stared at the pizza. “But that pizza looks really good, and I haven’t had lunch…”

Peter pushes the box closer to the FBI agent. Agent Woo grabs a slice, and official talk about Peter’s detainment falls to the wayside.

“Tell me about the doctor,” says Peter. “Is she pretty?”

Agent Woo obliges, and Peter begins to understand why Woo’s crushing on her so hard. She sounds kickass. And Peter’s rooting for them.

“You gotta ask her out, man,” says Peter. A string of melt cheese hangs off his mouth and swipes it away. “I mean, Agent Woo.”

The agent laughs, and by the time he leaves, Peter knows how to do the magic trick and almost no time was spent talking about his upcoming trial or the conditions of his house arrest.

*

Peter bleeds out on his living room floor.

He hadn’t meant to get stabbed. He hadn’t even meant to step out of his apartment, but it’s getting to him. The confinement. The crime happening below his apartment and he’s expected to sit by and let happen.

Mr. Stark is going to kill him, and he wouldn’t have called him if not for the pain, the unbearable pain of his skin stitching itself back together. Superpowered healing doesn’t come without it’s trauma.

To make matters worse, his doorbell rings, and he isn’t expecting anyone, so he knows it’s Agent Woo.

He inhales deep. He tries freeing his face from displaying the terrifying agony he’s experiencing in his leg, and he limps over to answer the door.

Agent Woo isn’t fooled. “Jesus Christ, is that blood?”

“Is that Delmar’s?” Peter momentarily forgets his situation when he spots the brown bag in Agent Woo’s hand, and when he smells the unforgetful aroma of Delmar’s Deli.

“Forget the sandwiches,” says Agent Woo. He walks into the apartment, helps Peter back to the couch, and places the bag on the coffee table. “What happened to you?”

“Don’t freak out,” he tells him. “I accidentally stabbed myself with a steak knife.”

Agent Woo stands, crosses his arms. “I’m supposed to believe you did that to yourself? On accident?”

“To be fair,” says Peter. “You’ve known me long enough to know that’s also extremely probable.”

“How could you do this,” says Agent Woo. He isn’t angry. His voice sounds the same as Mr. Sark’s had on the phone. Worried. Afraid for him, and what’s done, putting his own privilege of pretrial house arrest on the line for a few minutes fighting petty criminals. “You know what’s at stake if you break the rules.”

“I know,” says Peter, softly. “I’m sorry.”

“We need to put pressure on that.”

Agent Woo disappears from his sight and returns with a towel he carefully ties around Peter’s leg wound.

“Are you sure you don’t need a hospital?”

Peter shakes his head. “Spider healing will work it’s magic.”

He closes his eyes and tries to block out the pain, and when that doesn’t work, he decides a distraction is what he needs.

“Tell me about Dr. Lewis,” he says, through a grimace. “Have you asked her out yet?”

Agent Woo sits on the couch next to him. “Not yet.”

“You gotta get on that,” says Peter. “Before someone else does.”

“I don’t know about that, Pete,” he tells him. “I don’t know if someone like her would say yes to someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Someone who’s a nice person? And likes all the same cheesy sit-coms as her?” asks Peter. “Dude, you two are perfect for each other. You’re gonna ask her, and she’s going to say something like geez, finally, I was waiting for you to get a clue, and then you’ll have little Dr. Lewis-Woos running around all over the place.” He stops, the pain stabs, and he keeps going. “She’d be lucky.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Anytime,” says Peter, his voice cracking. The edges of his vision blur, but he’s able to focus on the brown bag on the coffee table. “You really brought me Delmar’s?”

“Last time I was here you said how much you missed it.”

“Make a habit of doing favors for murders? Fun.”

The pain’s making him more bitter, more honest, more angsty about the fact that the entire world thinks he’s killed that clown Mysterio. Maybe that’s what his temporary escape is really about. Trying to prove that he’s good. That he’s against the crimes people say he’s committed.

“I know you’re not a murderer.”

The entire world minus one, he guesses, along with his friends and family.

“You believe me?”

“I’ve dealt with killers before,” says Agent Woo. “You’re not one of them.”

Peter feels lighter, better even in his leg, by the idea of someone like Agent Woo believing his innocence. Gives him hope maybe his house arrest will end with freedom instead of prison, like Mr. Stark has been telling him from the start.

His good feeling doesn’t last long, though, because Mr. Stark barges through the door and Peter’s spidey senses know he’s about to get a lecture.

“How could you be so stupid?”

“Mr. Stark -”

“-No,” says Mr. Stark. “No excuses. I’ve warned you over and over again. Where is it?”

Peter pulls the device he’d built to interfere with the ankle monitor out from his pocket, and hands it over to Mr. Stark, who breaks it.

“For a genius,” says Agent Woo, as he eyes the broken parts of the interference device. “You really lack common sense.”

Mr. Stark turns his attention to Agent Woo. “Look, Agent -”

“-I’m off duty,” says Agent Woo, standing up from the couch. “Just a guy bringing some sandwiches, and I’ve really got no reason to believe he didn’t slip and fall, uh, on a kitchen knife. Just… never again.”

Peter nods his head. “Okay, yeah, never again.”

Agent Woo leaves them, Mr. Stark softens and gives him his extra strength pain relievers, and Peter drifts off, but not before devouring the sandwiches he loves and dwelling on the tiny spark of hope Agent Woo offered to him.

Not everyone believes he's a murderer, and for that moment, it’s enough.

[meabd]

Tricks of the Trade

Chapter 2: A Complicated Dance

It was nearly five o’clock when you approached the Heyu Teahouse. As you neared the entrance you caught sight of the slender form of the Eleventh Harbinger as he leaned against the side of the building, arms crossed, a look of concentration on his face. He startled as you stepped into view, his expression morphing into one of surprised pleasure.

“[Y/n], you look ravishing ,” he winked, offering you his elbow. You bowed instead, ignoring the gesture.

“Thank you, Tartaglia ,” he rolled his eyes at the use of his code name.

“None of that now. Call me Childe,” it was your turn to roll your eyes as he ushered you through the front door, one hand at the small of your back to direct you. The hostess was deferential to the young man, guiding you quickly to a private chamber on the second floor. The view over the harbor was breathtaking, and you found yourself distracted by it as Childe ordered for you both.

“You know, if we’re being honest I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” his comment broke you away from your thoughts, though you did not turn to acknowledge it.

“It’s funny,” you mused, eyes trained on the setting sun, “for as long as I have lived here I still haven’t gotten used to the beauty of it all,” he hummed in reply. Finally you turn to look at him, your gaze flickering over his formal Snezhnyan suit. He had no business looking as good as he did. “Why did you really ask me out this evening?” He cocked his head, his lips quirking into a bemused grin.

“Because you’re a beautiful woman with impressive connections with the highest powers operating out of Liyue Harbor,” his voice was matter of fact. The waitress returned with the bottle of wine he’d requested, pouring two glasses and bustling away.

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” you murmured, swirling the wine in your glass as you waited for him to taste it first.

“And I never said you were,” he countered, taking a healthy gulp of his own wine. “So who do you work for?” You took a small sip from your glass before answering.

“Lady Keqing oversees my work for—”

“I would appreciate it if you did not insult my intelligence,” he cut you off.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you sniffed primly. The charming smile had not slipped from his face, but there was a newfound tension around his eyes.

“Come on Miss [y/n], whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in it’s nothing the Fatui can’t handle. I’m sure we can, what is it you said? ‘Come to an equitable agreement’?” His smile was soft and comforting—and entirely false.

“Just what is it you’re implying, Master Childe?” You weren’t sure exactly what it was he thought you were, but you were glad to hear he wasn’t either.

“[Y/n], hails from Wuwang Hill, father deceased, mother deceased, brother jailed for petty crimes in Fontaine—is that who it is? Your brother is being held hostage and Fontaine's struck a deal with you?” Your mouth hung open, an expression of sincere shock. Childe leaned back, hands behind his head to enjoy the fruits of his detective work.

Little did he know, your shock was not because he was right, but rather that he actually bought your Cover. Sure, [y/n] was your real name, but it was also the name of a little girl who’d gone missing during the Wuwang Hill landslide. A little bureaucratic magic was all it took to assume her identity.

“It’s okay,” his expression softened as he leaned forward again, laying one hand atop your own, “I know what it is to care for family. You would do terrible things to keep them safe…” his voice trailed off as if he were remembering his own misdeeds. “I want to help you,” his voice was earnest. He was a damn good actor.

“I… appreciate the offer,” you gulped, attempting to tug your hand away to no avail.

“...But?” he pressed you.

“But they’d kill me,” and that part wasn’t a lie.

“Snezhnya is a formidable country. We have ways of helping… people like you,” he squeezed your hand in what you assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture. It felt claustrophobic.  

“I don’t know,” you bit your lip, dropping your chin a scant inch so you could look up at him through your mascara thickened lashes. “I couldn’t possibly give you an answer right now,” he nodded, withdrawing his hand.

“I understand, of course. Take some time to think about it. The Tsaritsa is a strong Archon, you would be safe within our ranks,” you pursed your lips, hoping the tension in your face read as nervousness and not amusement. A silence fell between the two of you, though not one as uncomfortable as before. When the server arrived with your food, all seriousness bled away from Childe’s face as he thanked the young woman before refilled your wine glass.

The conversation shifted as the two enjoyed your meal. You weren’t completely at ease, but that was nothing special; you never were. Childe, having gotten his ‘proposal’ out of the way was a regular chatterbox. It was really quite impressive how much he said without revealing anything of substance.

He was a charming man, that was doubtless; his conversation skills were remarkable, he was an active listener, and his flirtations (though inappropriate, in your opinion) managed to steer clear of any touchy territory. He was beautiful, to say the least, with striking eyes and a well formed figure that would send any woman’s heart aflutter. He was the perfect Honey Trap.

But then again… so were you.

“This has been lovely, thank you,” you smiled at him with a bit more honesty than was advisable.

“Why does that sound like a goodbye?” He stepped closer into your space, his fingers grazing the delicate bone of your wrist.

“Because it is? I have to go to Master Shizhuong’s,” you backed away from him.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” he cajoled, “come take a walk with me, we could revisit that tree,” his eyebrows twitched up at the suggestive remark.

“No, thank you. Perhaps next time. I’m going to be late as it is,” you turned to leave but were halted by a hand on your elbow.

“When I asked you out tonight I didn’t just mean to dinner, [y/n].”

“That’s all well and good Master Childe, but I do have work to do. Now if you’ll excuse me—” he yanked you forward, pressing his body against yours. His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you shuddered to feel his warm breath against it.

“You don’t honestly think I’d let you out of my sight now , do you? That banquet doesn’t start for another hour at least,” there was a threat in those words, no matter how soft the tone was. You pulled back from him, shifting your features into what you hoped was a neutral expression.

“...I’m the dance coordinator. There’s a Yayue performance before the feast, I have to be there for the arrangement.” Childe’s smile was contrite and his grip on you loosened.

“Sorry, sorry, just being cautious you know,” he laughed. You huffed an incredulous sigh.

“Come on, ‘you don’t honestly think’ I’d run off to wreak havoc at a banquet immediately after your oh so considerate offer,” you tossed his turn of phrase back at him and he frowned.

“I would certainly hope not,” he brushed a stray curl out of your eyes. “See you there, then? That is if you have time for me,” he winked. Despite your better judgement you nodded your assent before making your way to the estate.

As you approached the back entrance to the mansion you let your fingers trace over the wood of the exterior until you found the right panel. As quickly and discreetly as you could manage you lifted it off its hinges and swapped the bottle that was inside with the note you’d had strapped to your upper thigh. You took a moment to lean against the building, one hand pressed against your chest. You took several deep breaths before straightening your qipao and heading inside. To any wayward onlooker it would seem as if you were merely collecting yourself. If who you thought was tailing you actually was, then you’d just solidified your cover as an indecisive and reluctant operative.

Inside the mansion you passed the dancer’s dressing room to enter Master Shizhuong’s private chambers. You removed the bottle from your bodice, dripping its contents onto the bottom edge of an ornately framed painting. Behind it lay the Master’s safe, containing valuable and important documents. Documents that you had on good authority were to be stolen by a Fontainèse spy that very evening.

You re-corked the bottle and returned to the dressing area, satisfied with your work. Launching into your Cover role you helped apply traditional makeup, tied ribbons, tightened bodices and arranged hair as the dancers gossiped amongst themselves. Ming, one of the youngest dancers of your ranks, sat quietly in the corner. You approached her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright there?” You inquired. Her large doe eyes met yours and you could see the fear in them. She nodded.

“Are you… will you still help me tonight?”

Ming had come to you the week before with a sob story about needing money to help her sick mother. She shared with you her (rather convoluted) plan to bed Master Shizhuong, then blackmail him into providing her with the necessary funds. She’d asked for your help, imploring you to distract the middle-aged politician long enough for her to ‘prepare herself’ in his chambers.

You had, of course, readily agreed. You would never turn down a chance to take out an enemy operative. You almost felt bad—almost because, frankly she just wasn’t very good at her job. Her Cover was flimsy at best and her true intention—stealing classified documents from your host—was laughably easy to suss out. You smiled gently at the girl, a warm and comforting expression.

“Of course Ming. Anything for you. Please be safe,” you hugged the younger woman and felt her tears on your neck.

“No crying now,” you murmured, wiping a tear off of her cheek. “You’ll smear your makeup. Be strong; think of your mother and be strong ,” Ming’s smile was watery, but she nodded.

This is entirely too easy .

The entertainment had gone off without a hitch (because of course it had, you were damned good at your job) and you were engaging the Master of the house in a spirited discussion on the merits of the use of Cor Lapis in the production of chopsticks. You noticed your host’s eyes drifting over to the clock and you ran your finger down the seam of his sleeve, a coy gesture. Just as you were about to switch topics you felt a hand on your back.

“If I may be so bold, I believe Noctilucous Jade to be the superior material,” Zhongli’s smooth voice cut in and you inwardly groaned.

“Yes, yes, right as always Master Zhongli,” Shizhuong nodded with enthusiasm. “But—ah, excuse me please, I’m afraid I have an urgent matter to attend to,” he bowed before beating a hasty retreat. You hoped you stalled him for long enough for the poison to take effect. You’d be very disappointed if Ming lived long enough to get any of it on your host. You actually quite liked him.

“Hello Uncle,” you smiled pleasantly, using the honorific you reserved for when he was getting on your nerves. Zhongli’s head cocked to the side.

“My my, you’re in a mood, aren’t you? I take it your sortie with our resident Harbinger was not to your liking?” You blanched.

“I—you—he told you?” Zhongli chuckled.

“Bragged about it is more like it,” Childe’s voice came from behind you as an arm snaked its way around your waist. You fought hard against your instinct to flinch away. Zhongli inclined his head in greeting and Childe returned the gesture. “And I thought we had a lot of fun, didn’t we [y/n]?” You knew you were blushing but didn’t bother to fight it.

“Yes, ah, it was quite enjoyable,” your voice wavered just the slightest. Enough so that Childe’s grip on your waist tightened a bit.

“I must admit, I did not see this particular turn of events,” Zhongli remarked, his golden eyes lingering on the fingers tapping against your hip bone. “[Y/n] has never been out with a man, not once in the five years I’ve known her.”

“Maybe I was waiting for the right one,” you grit out from your teeth clenching smile.

“ Ming !” Master Shizhuong’s startled cry was muffled, but audible. The three of you turned in unison to stare at the hallway leading to the dressing rooms.

“Ming… no ,” you gasped, attempting to break away from Childe.

“Hold on—” he started but you pushed him away.

“Ming is one of my girls, I have to— I—” you shook your head before running towards the sound of the shout. You flung open the dressing room door, stopping only for a moment. You knew Zhongli and Childe were following you and you had to make a show of searching.

“Ming!” You screamed, continuing down the hall, throwing doors open as you went. Finally you made it to the master bedroom, your hands flying up to cover your mouth as a strangled sob escaped. You sagged against the door frame, making sure to hold your position until your companions had caught up. In the bedroom Ming laid slumped against the wall, dressed in nothing but her undergarments. The picture frame had been moved and the wall safe was clearly visible. Master Shizhuong sat on the bed, head in his hands.

“Oh no, no what did they do to you?” You stumbled into the room, dropping to your knees in front of her body. You reached out, hands shaking, as if to touch her, but felt yourself being yanked away.

“Don’t,” Childe’s voice was tight. “She may have been poisoned. Don’t touch anything ,” he barked. You felt your breath hitch as tears came to your eyes. These, at least, were more genuine than the one’s Childe had previously called you on. You liked Ming, you really did—she reminded you of yourself when you first started out.

You let that kernel of truth slip through your mask as you sobbed in Childe’s arms. He ran a soothing hand through your hair, pressing your face into the crook of his neck so you couldn’t look at her corpse.

“Shh. It’s okay,” he whispered. “Zhongli, can you handle this?” He must have nodded since you found yourself being tugged to your feet.

“No. I have to—I have to help her,” you protested softly. Childe shushed you again and led you from the room. “That could have been me,” you whispered, your voice hollow.

“It could have,” your companion agreed, though not unkindly. You allowed yourself to be dragged into the adjoining study. Gentle hands prodded you into an overstuffed chair and Childe knelt on the ground in front of you.

“I’m sorry [y/n], but I have to ask—did you have anything to do with this?” You tried to breathe in but the air stuck in your throat. Wordlessly you shook your head, tears still streaming down your face. You were certain your makeup was a disaster and you regretted your choice in mascara.

“Alright. Okay. Stay here. Zhongli and I will handle the rest,” he soothed, moving to stand.

“No,” you choked out, standing as well. “No, I have twenty nine other girls out there that need me,” you sniffled, wiping away the moisture on your cheeks. Childe stared at you, his face unreadable.

“Fine. But wait for me. You’ll need an escort home tonight,” you didn‘t argue. He turned to leave and you reached out without thinking. He stilled, looking down at your joined hands.

“I’m sorry. I… thank you,” you startled at the soft brush of lips against your forehead. He said nothing in reply, sweeping out of the room in a hurry.

Report;

Things have progressed well with Agent Pisces. Target believes me to be operating under duress and has made overtures to turn me. Agent Swan has been eliminated, Millelith on high alert. Will proceed with caution.

Dead Drop at Blue House compromised, Sanitized documents have been left there, please convey a new rendez-vous point ASAP.

Operation Blowback Intercept on hold until further notice.

I await further instructions.

Swallow

[robbyrobinson]

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GOD AWAKEN (24)

Camila found herself alone in a dark, dank room. Around her wrists were tightly bound in a rope extending from the ceiling. It had now been a few hours since she was cruelly torn away from her only daughter. Her daughter may as well be dead at that point. Every passing hour, Camila tried in vain to loosen the strains weighing her down. The thought of what could become of her daughter filled her with determination, but even that was not enough to make a dint.

“Mija.”

The door swung open alerting the middle-aged woman. Any hope that it was her daughter on the other side were quickly dashed when she was met with the cold, luminous glow of a golden mask.

“It is time, daughter.”

Camila squinted her eyes in a scowl. “Whatever you have planned, you will not prevail.”

Emperor Belos let out a low, hazy chuckle. He was in such a sickly state his ribs were poking through his robes. At that rate, taking the life essences of palismans was not enough to delay the inevitable. Death was now knocking at Emperor Belos’ door to claim him and it occurred to Belos that Death was not a patient fellow. “I am really going to miss your feisty attitude; maybe that is where Luz got her fire from.”

Camila wanted to bash Belos’ mask in until his skull cracked from the pummeling. “Leave my daughter out of this.”

Belos raised his hand in objection. “Fret not, daughter: I will take good care of your daughter.” He turned away from Camila and exited through the door. “I will raise her to the perfect child. Better than you ever were.”

Emperor Belos firmly grasped his staff. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through the tiny slits in his mask. His legs were clenching up giving him a near gallop to his walk. The Owl Spy walked down the hall seeing his lord staggering.

“Any problem, your Majesty?”

Belos waved his head to save face. “Just interrogating the human woman.”

“I see. Luz and the Owl Lady are still locked away, so there should be little issue for the occasion.”

“Excellent; you have always been a loyal follower,” Belos lamented. “By the way, have you seen Kikimora? She is usually the one who would oversee these public punishments.”

The Owl Spy bowed his head. “It’s a shame, really. I cannot believe the odds of this happening.”

Belos tilted his head quizzically. “What pray tell?”

“Our Kikimora was in your laboratory earlier, and for the likes of me, I don’t know how it happened.”

Belos tapped his fingers on the tip of his staff. “Well, what is it? Go on.”

“Kikimora...lost her footing and fell into one of your vaults. She was not in too much pain from the looks of it. It was like...taking a long sleep.”

Belos loosened his grasp on his staff. “Well. That’s a pity.”

Belos resumed walking in the opposite direction without much thought aside from finally getting revenge on his adoptive daughter. When he was completely gone, the Owl Spy opened the door to Camila’s cell. Camila tensed up when she heard the door open again.

“Are you back to mock me more?” She looked at the site of the opened door instead seeing the Owl Spy. “You’re...you’re not Belos.”

The Owl Spy nodded and removed his mask. “Your daughter happens to be friends with my daughter.”

“Oh. Well, why are you here?” Camila walked backward as a way of trying to get as far away as she could.

“Relax, I am not going to hurt you,” he reassured.

“I’m sorry that I am having a hard time believing what any of you witches tell me,” Camila said, “after all, it was your coven that attacked the hospital I was working at and dragged me kicking and screaming to this world.”

The Owl Spy nodded in understanding. “Listen to me: your daughter is still alive, and she is fighting to save you.”

Camila perked up. “Take me to her, please.”

The Owl Spy put his finger on her mouth. “Not too loud...I do have a plan, just listen carefully.”

Amity sprinted down the halls with the knowledge that her siblings were locked away in the dungeon. Her breath was getting heavier and all the running was making her legs sore, but the pain was only a minor stumbling block.

“I just hope Luz has the glyphs ready.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see the mighty door of the dungeon coming into crystal view. In front of the door, two large burly guards were in front of it. Given their attire, it was easy to identify them as working for the dreaded Conformatorium. Amity quickly hid in a wall’s corner hoping to have been silent enough to not be heard. She glared out from behind the wall and saw that the guards were still none the wiser. In fact, they were having a conversation from the looks of it, but about what the witch-in-training did not know nor care.

Amity took her finger and drew a spell circle into the air drawing forth a fire ball. This too she had to do in great silence. She held the ball in the palm of her hand and watched it flicker as it danced around. She took one final look and flung it. She quickly dashed herself away when the guards took the bait and ran to find the origin of the sound.

Amity raced her way to the door now seeing that locks of varying shapes and sizes were all over the door. The witch girl looked around in some ways hoping that the key wasn’t too far behind. Having another idea in mind, Amity placed her hands on the door and inhaled. With a wave of her hand, permafrost began to manifest from her palms and wrists before spreading in all directions on the door. She could feel the door’s metallic design shift underneath her palms becoming converted to solid ice.

Once the door was completely frozen, Amity looked around for something she could pitch at the door. Scanning her surroundings, Amity grabbed a medium-sized rock and tossed it at the door. Much like breaking grass or fine china, the door broke into fragmented pieces and shattered. Without much prompt, Amity immediately dashed in on the off chance that the two guards from earlier returned. It took little effort to see that her siblings were in a cell together.

“Edric, Emira!”

She dashed to their cell, stopping just short of the bars. Now, Edric was nothing more than fragile glass: he was sprawled on the floor in capable of moving. From her sister’s wailing, Odalia likely arrived earlier and withdrew another hit of magic. Now, the boy’s magic sac was completely depleted. Without magic to balance off of, he was a vegetable. Emira looked up to her baby sister. Mascara was running from her eyes.

“Mittens?”

Amity hushed her. “Don’t worry, I’m here now. Once I get the staff, we’ll have our brother back.”

Emira’s eyes widened fearfully. “Look out!”

Amity jumped out of the way of a red beam that sliced into the floor of the dungeon leaving a deep cut in it. “So you’ve come to stop us?”

Amity clenched her fists. “Mother.”

Odalia held the staff in her hand and it shined its ominous red glow. “Why must you prevent Lord Nyarlathotep’s plans?”

“Mother, can’t you see that Nyarlathotep had corrupted you?” Amity asked “the staff has to be destroyed.”

Odalia shook her head. “I have finally gotten everything that I could have ever hoped for.”

“You’re insane.”

“Because of Lord Nyarlathotep, I have gone up exceedingly on the pecking order of this isle; I am a part of an elite group of magic, and now, with his help, I have become one of the most powerful witches on the Boiling Isles! Maybe even second to the Emperor himself! After years of trying to upkeep the proud Blight name, I am now reaping the benefits of that labor.”

Amity got up on feet. “If you let Nyarlathotep and Belos win, then the family line will die with you.”

Odalia firmly grasped the staff in her hand. “You have always been a perpetual thorn in my side, haven’t you?”

Amity did not respond. Her mother continued her tirade.

“You should be more grateful to your mother that I even allowed you to be born. After all these years molding you until you achieved perfection, you instead chose to throw that all away by continuing to see that half-witch behind my back, and I would have at least loved it that you’d befriend...I don’t know maybe a river troll...but no, once that human vermin encroached on our world, you have always been by her side...Why? Are you really telling me that all that time and energy I put into raising you so you could be the best that you could possibly be was all for naught? You are an insult to the Blight family name.”

Amity shook her head in defiance. “The only insult to our family is you.”

“Is that so? Is that how you really feel?”

Amity nodded whilst gripping the ground.

“Death it is then.”

Odalia shot fire balls from the staff in a flurry. Amity instinctively dodged them and shot ice from her finger tips. It quickly froze the balls of fire and they dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Odalia slammed the staff on the ground creating a tremor. The earth opened up to swallow Amity whole. Once more with quick thinking, the witch girl fell into the hole but bounced back. Odalia stared into the crevice seeing that she created a barrier that bounced her off.

“All that talent, spoiled.”

Odalia lifted the gem of the staff to the sky and twirled it. A crackle of sound came from the gem and it began to glow a bright, crimson red as it charged. Odalia flashed a smile and discharged a ball of light. Amity created another barrier this time large enough to cover the cell of the twins. “Stop this at once! Edric and Emira could get in the way!”

Odalia laughed to herself. The barrier was quickly starting to destabilize from the eldritch powers eating away at it. “This magic is infinitely more powerful than the run-of-the-mill variety you have been studying.”

Amity drew more attention to the barrier. She twirled her finger once more and fired it into the barrier. Holes began to form inside of the barrier which the witch girl tried to fight by hardening it. Sweat was beating down from Amity’s forehead. Her fingers started chafing from the prolonged time she put into resealing the barrier. She sensed the magic being cast from her magic sac was draining slowly. If it were to completely disappear, Amity would be sure to faint.

“I am going to stop you no matter what!”

Odalia shot more of the alien light at the orb forming. It was readily eclipsing the size of the barrier Amity devised. Amity’s knees clamped together. “Just a little more...”

The barrier shattered sending Amity flying back. Amity’s eyes fluttered open seeing the Blight matriarch approaching her. She went to get off her back, but Odalia pinned her down with the staff. It was pressed firmly on her stomach. The gem once more shined brightly.

“If only you would’ve been a better daughter.”

She lifted the staff up and flipped it. The growing gem reflected in Amity’s eyes. The power inside of it surged and crackled. There was a sudden surge of heat coming from the object. On instinct, Amity rolled over and kicked the end of the staff.

“You brat!”

Odalia made a grab for the gem, but Amity took her other leg and tripped the matriarch with it. Odalia held out her hand but it was too late. The gem made contact with the ground and shattered into millions of pieces. A green mist slithered put of the remnants and entered the cell holding Edric. The gaseous cloud hovered over the boy and entered the orifices of his face.

Edric’s skin returned to its former glory, and when he inhaled, his skin bubbled up as it was filled with the magic it was deprived of. Edric opened his eyes, looking around. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Emira’s eyes widened and she sighed in relief. “Edric!”

Before Edric could say anything, she spontaneously hugged him. “You’re crushing my ribs.”

Odalia screamed and clung onto the pieces of the destroyed staff. In her blind anger, she grabbed Amity by her neck and lifted her in the air. “You ungrateful, insolent, self-absorbed brat!”

Amity grabbed her mother’s hands attempting to pry them off her. “Lord Nyarlathotep will be most displeased when I tell him what you have done!”

A crackle grabbed their attention. On the ground, another mist was growing. It widened into a flat circle and opened up. “What is this??”

The hole began to suck whatever was in its path inside it. The sound of legions of flutes emitted from the hole now understood to be a portal. It had the two warring family members in its proximity and was sucking them in. Amity grabbed the cell bar for dear life. “What if that is Nyarlathotep’s dimension? Then that means...”

“Whatever Nyarlathotep had in that dimension was likely feeding on Edric’s magic,” Emira interrupted. She shook. “And I think they’re still hungry.”

Amity’s finger tips were starting to give way. She walked timidly so she could be close enough to grab another bar. Odalia grabbed her. “If those monsters are hungry, you will satiate their hunger!”

The older woman ripped Amity’s hold of the bar and tossed her on the ground. The pressure of the portal grabbed the rim of her shirt to draw her in. Her legs flailed around to catch solid ground.

“Mittens!” the twins shouted.

Odalia observed her daughter’s struggling with indifference and turned to walk away. Black tentacles burst through the portal’s opening and, for some indiscernible reason, bypassed the witch girl and instead grabbed a hold of Odalia’s legs.

“What? Me!?”

It jerked Odalia on the ground, flopping her on her chest. She sunk her long fingernails into the ground. “No, you can’t have me! My bloodline! You cannot do this to me, I am a BLIGHT!!”

But what Odalia did not understand was that there existed beings of unknowable shape and form, some that are older than the universe itself, and they give little thought to the status of the person they are interacting with. The Boiling Isles itself and all the witches within were small specks of dust that the gods would step on without malice but cannot be burdened with our conventional morality.

The tentacles jerked harder on her legs. The once proud matriarch of the Blight family was now reduced to a powerless bully who was begging for her life. Her fingernails scrapped the floor leaving marks in it when the final pull was administered. She shrieked one final time before becoming engulfed by the portal and disappeared. Amity plopped on the ground her heart beating fast.

“Where do you think it sent her?” Edric asked.

“Who knows,” Amity replied. “But now that it’s over, time to get you both out.”

Unbeknownst to them, their mother was ripped from the demon realm and was cast into a dimension outside of space-time, the unfathomable void that the Outer Gods made their domain. It is there where Odalia’s mind would melt from the presence of the gods and she would be an unintelligible mess and the fibre of her being would be shredded for eternity.

[simsadventures]

Baby Fever II

Summary: You’re 9 months pregnant with your first child, and you and Bucky are both excited and nervous about the arrival of the little one.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of smut (nothing explicit this time around), daddy! Bucky, Deer Woman appearance

Word Count: 1932

A/N: Some of you liked the first part so much, you actually requested a second one, and I was honestly very happy to do it. This is pretty much just a fluff with a fluff on top, so I’ll hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know what you thought :) xx

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

Baby Fever I

The dull pain in your lower back woke you up. You groaned in frustration when you looked at the alarm sitting on your nightstand. It was 6.29, and even though that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, to wake up in half past 6, it was the fact that it has only been 2 hours since you last woke up. And you were tired. And in pain. And frustrated.

You looked at the other side of the bed seeing Bucky still soundly asleep, and although you were happy for him and his sleeping routine, you were also jealous of him.

You loved the fact you were pregnant, you really did. But your little bundle of joy had no care in the world for a time in the real world outside your womb, and he or she would regularly have a party in there around 4 AM.

And because nature had to make it so that the women would carry to babies, your husband would wake up rested and stress-free every morning, while you looked like a little dwarves dances on top of you the whole night.

You sighed, and rolled over to your other side, dangling your feet off the bed and you tried to get up. Not only were you tired, but your bladder was killing you as well. You were sure the baby thought your bladder was some kind of a ball and would kick it out of spite every twenty minutes, causing you to run to the bathroom.

There were times when you even wanted to have twins. That thought made you cringe now because just the thought of two babies being in there, playing with your organs made you shiver. One at a time was just enough for you.

You rushed to the bathroom, and when you were done, you looked at yourself in the mirror. There were dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and very probably from the strength of the baby, which, as Bruce said, has inherited parts of the serum from his father. Bucky was alarmed at first, at the thought of his baby being enhanced and all of that, but Bruce assured both of you that rather than being enhanced in the usual sense of the word, your baby would simply be less prone to be sick, its wounds would heal slightly quicker, and that was probably it.

He couldn’t be a hundred percent sure until it was born, but you trusted Bruce, and you were at ease with the whole serum thing.

Your eyes travelled south to your 9-month belly, swollen and hard with stretch marks at the sides. At first, you were horrified to see those lines on your body that use to be lean and without a mark, except the few scars you carried from your fights. But then, mostly thanks to Bucky, you realised that it was a miracle you even had this baby in you, and that your body was just accommodating for the little one to be as comfortable as you could make it.

You touched the right side of your belly, right next to your navel, and massaged it lightly. You knew the baby liked it when you touched the belly, or when you or Bucky spoke to it, and you wanted to enjoy this morning ritual until it decided to finally come out.

You could feel pressure under your palm, and when you lifted it, you could see a little hand protruding through your skin.

Despite your tiredness and all those frustrations you felt when you got up, a smile appeared on your mouth and tears welled up in your eyes. This was all you ever dreamed of, at least since you met Bucky, and you couldn’t believe that it was a reality. Your very own reality.

You didn’t even notice the movement behind you until there was a hand splayed on your stomach. You looked into the mirror and was welcomed by the sight that melted your heart.

Bucky’s hair was still messy from the pillow, his eyes looked like he hasn’t truly woken up just yet, but he had a delirious smile on his face, watching your belly with a newfound adoration.

Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Bucky was over the moon. He would make sure you had everything you needed, even if it meant he had to get up from the comfort of his bed at 2 AM just to bring you a sack of oranges, or a pack of ice cream. He would pamper you with kisses and hugs, give you massages whenever your body hurt too much, and he would be there all the time.

He even misses a few missions just because he didn’t feel like leaving you alone, despite your protests and Tony’s explanations that nothing could happen to you in the safest place on this planet. That wasn’t an argument for Bucky. You were his wife carrying his child, and he would be damned if he didn’t make sure you were both ok.

As the baby made its presence known, Bucky kept massaging your belly, marvelling at the sight of the tiny feet and hands showing through the thin skin of your stomach.

You leaned into his chest, loving the attention he was giving both of you, and you kissed the underside of his jaw. His eyes shot to yours, and he gave you the loveliest smile, pecking your lips in the process.

You were nearing your due date, well, according to Bruce, it could happen any day now. You were anxious, to say the least. You were an Avenger, that was true, but you couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to give birth to a tiny human being. And if it the little one inside you was anything like Bucky, it would come out kicking and screaming.

But the truth was, you weren’t even scared of the pain, you knew you could take it. Billions of women were able to do it before you, and you knew you could do it. You were more afraid for the little one. What if something happens to it? What if you can’t even do the one thing, right? What if you are a bad mother?

All these thoughts were playing in your mind as the due date neared, and they were now all you could think of. Bucky had no idea, or at least you thought so because you didn’t want to stress him out or let him know about all your doubts when it came to your child.

But Bucky being Bucky could read you like an open book, and so when you got lost in your head again, contemplating whether you are able to take on this new role, in this crazy world, Bucky put a finger under your chin and turned your to face him.

“Stop,” he whispered and touched your forehead with his, letting you take a deep breath, releasing the stress out of your body.

“We’re gonna be good, you’re gonna be a great mother, and I will never let anything happen to the little one, I promise. You are my family, my everything, and there isn’t a possibility of it not ending up ok. We’re gonna struggle at times, just like every other new parents, but we will get the hang of it. I saw you taking care of Morgan, and you’re natural, baby! So stop stressing about unnecessary things, and just enjoy the last few moments of being pregnant,” he said calmly, and just like always, you felt yourself letting go of all your fears, just because Bucky was with you.

“I know you’re right, it’s just the illogical part of my brain that comes up with all these worst-case scenarios. But you’re right, when it comes-“

You couldn’t finish the sentence, because you suddenly felt something wet between your thighs. And because you were pretty sure you just didn’t pee yourself, there was only one other possibility.

Bucky was watching in confusion, as you looked from him to your stomach and further down, and then back at him. It took him a good minute before he realised what was happening, and from the calm and collected Bucky, you had this fretting boy in front of you.

He was freaking out, to say the least, while you were overcome with peace. Sure, you were curious about the contractions, and all, but you suddenly knew you could do this. Your body was made for this. Which you couldn’t say about Bucky’s body, which was now shaking as he tried to remember what it was that you wanted to do first if something like this happened.

“Bucky!” You raised your voice to ensure the message actually got to his stressed brain.

“Call my doctor, Dr Young, and tell her that we are on our way. I’ll call Bruce and tell him what is happening. You’ll then grab my bag, it’s there, on the table, and you’ll calmly drive me to the hospital, just like we planned. Will you be able to do it, or should I call somebody else to drive us?”

“NO! I’ll drive us! I’ve got this! I promise, now let’s go,” Bucky said, obviously still a little shaken, but much better than moments ago.

You nodded at him, and while you were both calling the doctors, and heading towards the car, you looked outside, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a beautiful woman standing outside the window.

Her hair was flowing around her hips, the flower crown on her head accentuating her beauty just like her plain white dress. She looked like she was smiling at you and nodding, but when you blinked and looked again, she was nowhere to be found.

You thought you were hallucinating, from the pain that started to creep to your belly and forgot all about the image of a few moments ago.

But the Deer Woman has never forgotten. She came in to check on you, and to give you and the baby the strength to go through the labour as painlessly and quickly as possible.

She was also there, just outside the hospital where you were giving birth to your baby boy to oversee the whole process, and when she heard the sharp cries of your baby, and when she heard you saying the little boy’s name, she nodded again and vanished into thin air.

“Micheal Steven,” you said with a smile. “I think we should call him after Steve, because you and Steve have always been so close, and I would like to honour that. Also, we both agreed that sieve should be his godfather, so why not calling him after him?”

Bucky was already on the verge of crying from all the joy he was feeling, but when you asked him if you could name your baby boy after his best friend, the dam broke. He sobbed yes, and hugged you tightly, still careful of the babe in your arms.

He couldn’t believe his luck to have such a beautiful family, and he knew that it wouldn’t end with just this baby. Bucky wanted a whole litter of babies now that you two knew you made such cute ones. And he couldn’t wait to start trying with you again. Well, after little Micheal Steven was safe and sound in his crib and you were all healed up, of course. He could wait that long. But the baby fever in him could never be truly satisfied.

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​

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If your name is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[iloverubberduckiez-blog]

Partners- Reader x Hybrid!Maknae line

A/N: Don't know if ill write more and make a Lil series or keep this as a drabble

WC: 4k

Warnings:Fluff, possible smut if i continue. 

Rated: PG 13 i guess

After another long day at your shitty desk job as a secretary, you were on your way out when you get stopped by the department head.

“Hey Y/N, I'm glad I caught you!”

You inwardly groaned. All you wanted to do was to go home to your beautiful hybrid who you knew would no doubt whine about you coming home late. 1000 bucks says Mark was here to tell you that you would be delaying that peace a little longer.

“Mark please I am tired and I already worked two hours over today”

“Sorry Y/N. I have to stay too. We are expecting some big shot from the main branch and you and I get to personally oversee all things pertaining to him when he gets here. He’s gearing up to take over HQ as the new CEO”

“Oh my- No way.”

“Yup. Jackson Wang”

“Damn. well, he is super hot so I'm doing it for him, not you. When do we need what?” 

“He doesn't get in till next week so we will have time to prepare. Just letting yo know you can pass on the DRASS project to Amaya.”

“What no way that project is mine, it's literally all I've worked on for months-”

“And I know you were super excited to fly back to Kenya to help those people and see it through. I promise you will get full credit but We need this, trust me Jackson says he wants to pick his personal team from within the company. If we do well enough this will be the push we need and could select us as candidates.- You have a hybrid right? well, I have a family of five, and having extra money in the bank whether it's just a bonus for this or a whole new position will help us both and you know it.”

“okay” You relented with a sigh taking the folder from his hands.

“You should rest up this weekend so that we can meet up a little early next week to go over what needs to get done and how we can prepare for everything.”

“so i can go home now?”

Mark chuckles and nods. “ Run along, give your boy a hug from me” Mark kisses your forehead as has been the norm and walks away with a small wave towards his own car.

Leaving the office you groan after seeing the traffic. It was going to be a slow crawl in the car for like an hour before you make it back home.

“Y/N!” You didn't even unlock the door before you were bombarded with the full weight of the handsome hybrid you share a home with.

“Where were you? I was waiting for you for so long. I got us dinner but its all cold now” His voice a little muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“oh what did you eat?”

Taehyungs tummy growled.

 “I didn't. I wanted us to eat together because i got Lasagne, your favourite.” His tail which was wrapped around you as he had hugged you fell to the floor in sadness.

“I’m so sorry Tae.” You looked up to find his ears flattened on his head as his arms drop from your shorter frame. 

Taehyung’s eyes meet yours as he feels how your guilt seems to seep through and he gives you his beautiful signature boxy smile before picking you up and carrying you into your apartment.

“It’s okay Y/N we can reheat it.”

You kiss him on the check and go into your room to change into something comfortable before joining Tae back in the kitchen and sitting on one of the stools.

“Wine M’lady.” Taehyung poured two glasses and reached for your hand leading you to the couch.

“c’mon it will take a while to heat nicely in the oven.”

You nodded and followed him hi sat first then pat his lap. You looked at him questioningly.

“First my favourite meal and then expensive wine? It's not my birthday Tae.By the way this wine is like 1922 grade $400 bucks stuff how in the world did you get some?”

Taehyung chuckled.“I just wanna sit and cuddle with you and have a nice evening together plus you smell like a squirrel.”

You caved and snuggled beside Taehyung instead of on his lap but he just pulled you closer to him nuzzling your hair and drawing little patterns on your arms.

You inwardly facepalmed, of course, Tae’s sensitive nose picks up on all the people from work and apparently most pungently your intern who had sent his Squirrel hybrid to give in some documents to you halfway through a meeting - “I can go take a shower-”

“No don't go please i just missed you a lot today is all.”

“ You sure? Nothing else? Nothing bothering you?”

“Nothing at all.”

It was not nothing.

Taehyung had spent the better part of the morning crying his eyes out after overhearing your conversation to Seokjin. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, in fact, he was going to come and give you a hug good morning but what he heard made him stop dead in his tracks. 

“He’s a beautiful Calico cat Y/N, i think that it could be a good match for you. You did say you had always wanted a cat right? well this is your chance and he will dote on you hand and foot- you work too much honestly when do you take time to read and breathe?”

Tae robotically walked away tail tucked in between his legs and retreated to the bathroom He didn't bother with the rest of the conversation he was just numb. He turned on the shower but made no other moves towards actually showering. All he could think of was that maybe you were trying to replace him, that he wasn't enough for you or maybe that he was just too much and you didn't love him anymore. He heard you knock on the door announcing your departure for work but he couldn't bring himself to respond. After crying for what felt like hours Tae looked at his phone. You had sent a message.

“Tae,

Had to leave early,U might not have heard me in the shower.Take care. Y/N”

Taehyung felt morose. No “I love you” or cute emoji. He sighed and went to your room. Laying on your bed he snuggled up to one of your pillows and managed to fall asleep. It ended up only being a nap as Taehyung woke around an hour later. Eyes still puffy and with a sniffle, he sat up determined and decided to do something special for you.

“Hey Hyung”

“What do you wan- Is Y/N Okay? Did you start a fire again?”

Taehyung deadpanned. “Hyung that was one time!”

“Okay, what's wrong little brother?”

Taehyung whined. he felt the beginnings of tears stirring up again.

“come over. Hoseok has a day off today. Or do you just wanna talk to me?”

“I’ll be right there”

Yoongi sighed rubbing his fingers over his temples. Hoseok was currently now consoling his little brother who after regaling his story managed to upset himself and break down into full-blown tears again.

“I knew something was up I *Hic* didn't think she, we would ever be apart” 

Yoongi sat on Taehyungs opposite side and pulled him into a hug after wiping some of his tears.

“It’s just a big misunderstanding okay she is just working really hard she’s not trying to abandon you.”

“Hyung you don't know that. Easy for you to say because you have Hoseok- Hyung.”

“And it's only because of her that I got adopted by him remember? She wanted us both but she didn't have the means to look after both of us so she called all her friends willing to take a hybrid on and then she said that she was sorry she couldn't do more but at least we would be able to see each other. She’s the reason we can still talk, see each other despite being separated, and hang out.”

Hoseok nods, “She got an extra bed in your room too for Yoongi to come to stay over whenever he wanted and she gave him the spare key remember? I don't even have a spare and I've known her longer-”

“she likes us better” Taehyung and Yoongi snapped to Hoseok at the same time.

Hoseok laughed. “well glad to know where I stand. I wouldn't hold it against you if you moved now, she earns enough to support you now...so if-”

Yoongi smiled “You would be hopeless without me and you know it.”

Hoseok scratched behind Yoongi’s ears and with a smile, he began “Well if you want my advice on this-”

“We don’t,” The hybrid brothers said again in unison.

Hoseok rolled his eyes and mumbled about getting something to eat and calling Seokjin to figure out what was going on.

Yoongi’s heart was aching for Taehyung. He wanted nothing more than to see his beautiful smile again.

“Y/N likes Lillies why don't you buy her some and like welcome her with those and some chocolates or something when she gets home?”

Taehyung sighed. “I thought about that but it feels too simple and like something anyone could come up with.” His eyes glazed over to the Tv where a couple was horseriding on a ranch. Immediately Taehyung lit up.

” That's it!”

“Tae we can't buy a horse ranch, even with all three of us chipping in”

“Not the ranch Hyung. Y/N likes this special wine that you can only get at a few places. If I get her a bottle and cook her a fancy dinner she can remember why she only needs me.”

Hoseok came back to the living room.

“oh, I have a bottle from the last time we went to the ranch as a group the chateau right? I was gonna wait for her birthday and surprise her but you can have it Tae,”

Taehyung glomped Hoseok in gratitude.

“cant breathe Tae”

“sorry.”

Yoongi stood up scrolling on his phone. “what did Soekjin say?”

Taehyungs smile dropped and his face morphed into nervous worry. Yoongi placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder expecting bad news from the way he reacted.

“He is out of town for the weekend. Some big trip so I could only leave a voicemail. It’s probably nothing. Anyway, you should go on and get dinner ready for Y/N before she gets home right?”

Taehyung brightened a little and skilled nodding. Before he left Yoongi said he should probably order food so he doesn't poison you or set the place on fire. He left feeling optimistic and hopeful that he could mend things with you. He wanted to help take better care of you he promised himself.

You woke up to the smell of burnt pancakes and Hot chocolate. Following the scent, you found Tae in the kitchen attentively staring at the pancake until a small ding went off on his phone. Shutting off the timer he placed a layer of batter where the last pancake just lay and set the timer again. You watched him fondly before he plated this one and poured honey over it. Putting the plate on a tray with the precut fruits and hot chocolate his ears went up as he sniffed the air. Turning around he saw you in the doorframe.

“Y/N...i-i made breakfast” He hastily grabbed your hand and led you back to you room tucking you in, before rushing out and bringing the tray with him.

Your heart swelled at this blessing of a man in front of you and he watched with rapt attention as you cut off a piece of the pancake before placing it in your mouth.

“How is it?” His ears sagged over his head expecting rejection.

“I can make you an omelet instead if you-”

“Taehyung it's the best pancake I’ve ever eaten.”

He buried his face in your pillow at your praise, tail wagging happily. You offered him a strawberry and a piece of the pancake and he hummed happily.

After sharing breakfast together you spent the day spring cleaning together before spending the rest of the day on a movie marathon. On Sunday You were both invited to game night at Hoseoks and You and Tae were a dynamite team as usual with Yoongi coming in to troll Hoseok much to his displeasure.

“I look forward to working with you further Mr wang.” you held out your hand. Jackson laughed and gave you a hug instead. 

“No way just call me Jackson. I’ve been friends with Mark forever so any friend of his is a friend of mine, also you come at a right recommendation, which is surprising cos he can be a bit of a downer.”

“I’m right here you know!” 

“I’m so grateful for you for doing this at such last minute. i know it was a lot to organise in the given time frame Y/N.” 

“Not at all, Mr wa- Jackson.”

You all stayed in his office with some comfortable banter before going home.

Taehyung called over to you and began to advance happily towards you before he stopped and sniffed you strangely. You wanted to ask him what the problem was but your phone chimed. it was Soekjin- he was calling you. You declined the call because you remembered you needed to tell Tae what was going on so that you could get his opinion on things.

“It might be urgent, if he keeps calling you like that. Go see what your human friend wants.”

“Do you not like Jin? Since when? Tae what’s-”

“You’ve been talking a lot to whoever lately and you smell like a new scent and a hybrid and I feel tired so I’ll probably just go hang out at Hyung’s.”

“No wait Taehyung I’m not trying to have secrets or hide anything from you but there is something important I need to tell you.”

Taehyung huffed and went to go sit down as you took his hands in yours. He looked like how you found him 2 years ago a wounded puppy with eyes full of love and brimming with sadness.

“Things are a bit crazy at the shelter and Jin needs help in housing some of the Hybrids temporarily. Some can go to other shelters but some need a more... loving environment, calmer without the more violent hybrids sharing with the weaker type ones. I offered to take two of them in while he figures everything out. I know its a lot and if you don't want to, we will just stay just us but if Jin is overcrowded he’s at risk of getting shut down and then they could all end up on the streets I-”

“It's okay.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“It's just temporary, right? I can understand that we shouldn't let anyone be on the streets if we can help.”

“really? you’re fine with this?”

“It’s...I will be able to deal with it. But I want strawberry cake and I’m not sharing”

“Of course Tae. Guess I should call Jin and tell him the great news!” You chirped and went to grab your phone. You didn't notice the sheer rejection that he tried to hold in.

Jungkook and Jimin stood behind Jin. The latter holding Jin’s shirt as he explained some of the pills he had brought along for their nutrition and bringing along some bags with groceries. You reached to take it and Jungkook took them all in your stead silently trying to minimize eye contact with you.

“Thank you Jungkookie.”

Embarrased, Jungkook stuttered out. “I-Its the least I can do after you are being so kind.” You practically melted and pet the Muscle bunny softly at the base of his ears and he stomped his foot a little and grinned showing his toothy smile.

Jimin, not to be outdone, said he could help you pack everything away and let go of Jin who was trying to remain them of something that they were tuning out in their silent contest to impress you. You tried to place a jar on a shelf too high and fell back into JK who caught you and placed it up for you instead. Jimin began whining that he could have done it for you but he was busy with the things in the fridge.

Taehyungs loud sneeze broke up the rowdy lot of you.

Jungkook gripped your waist in fear and stayed behind you as you faced Taehyung. Jimin in shock had hit his head on the shelf of the fridge and tried to catch some of the items that threatened to spill out.

Tehyung seeing Jungkook’s hand on your waist had yanked you out of his grasp and began scenting you and sending a snarl their way.

You sighed. This was how Taehyungs been acting ever since you started the project with Jackson. Pretty much anything could set him off but you felt bad because you should have been more understanding of how this may look in his eyes.

“ Jin, Rabbit, feline”

“Tae, Longtime! Sorry if we woke you. this is Jungkook he's a black Holland Lop and Jimin is a calico cat.”

“I’m Y/N’s Siberian husky.” Tae said to the other two before looking back to Jin.

“ I was awake- Hyung i was finishing the laundry for the new...guests.”

You spun around in his arms to face him. Petting his ears as he cooed into your touch “Aww Tae I told you I’d manage it”

Jin’s ringtone killed the silence and he dashed out telling you to call if any problems arose.

Thereafter you got the boys settled into Taehyung’s room. With a sigh you went and faceplanted into your sheets only to have Taehyung come and crawl beside you. After half an hour when you tried to get up Taehyung just grumbled and  held you tighter.”

“Tae i have to go to”

“work I know” He said with a sigh reluctantly letting you go. 

“Today’s a chilled day we will be done early. Besides, you guys can use this time to bond and make friends.” At his whine, you kissed the top of his head. “ please? For me, try?” 

Six weeks later all of you have somewhat of a comfortable rythym in the household. On a day off you decided it would be fun to go to the beach. Jimin offered to pack a picnic for everyone and Jungkook and Taehyung were moody on the drive over because they didn't think of it first. You had also told him since he was so helpful he could sit in the passenger seat and Jimin spent the whole ride grinning like the cat who got the cream.

Once there you were happy to let the boys wander off to their heart's content after setting up your belongings under a beach umbrella.

Jungkook had other plans. He worked very hard on his physique and although shy he still remembers the first time he came back shirtless from a run and found you on the couch. You tried to hide it but He knows you checked him out and you were definitely attracted to him the way your eyes hungrily racked over his body. Since that day he would be on the lookout for any golden opportunities to be close to you. Honestly, Taehyung had it made. You were kind, smart, hardworking, and breathtakingly beautiful. So often he dreamt of you as his and he knew the others thought the same. Officially though he was still a foster, Jimin had reminded him that morning and their place here wasn't secured so Jimin said he was gonna up the Ante. At first, Jungkook ignored him and went to shower but when he emerged to the sound of you praising Jimin for coming up with such a cute and thoughtful idea, He knew he needed a plan of his own. 

Taehyung excused himself for the bathroom and Jimin was looking around for the cooler box. He decided to go and check in the car leaving Jungkook alone with you. This was his moment. He stripped himself of his shirt and innocently asked if you would come to the water with him. He rationalized his need for an escort being that he was not used to such big crowds of people and thus managed to convince you out of your sundress to reveal your bikini and guide him by the hand towards the water.

Jungkook was Jungshook at the two-piece and how you looked in it enjoying the view until some guy came out trying to talk to you. That snapped him out of his daze and he flung you over his shoulder and bolted into the water trying to shield your body for his admiration alone. You were having a ball of a time and Jungkook got to stay near you and hold you claiming to save you from sharks if you found any.

Jimin had stomped away to the car and after retrieving the cooler box which he was pretty sure Jungkook was supposed to carry happily bounded to the store to get ice for the drinks on the way back. He also spotted a local artist doing caricatures and thought to remember to bring you over later for a couple picture together. He knew you weren't a couple but Jimin was smitten for you. He was slightly confused as to why Tae didn't have a romantic relationship with you, or at least you weren't his mate so he still had a shot. The only thing in his way now was the little maknae and his cute bunny-like stupid smile and ‘helpful groping’. Jungkook certainly wasn't shy in trying to subtle scent you when you were distracted anymore, not like how it was when they first arrived. No, they had gone from not trying to interfere with your and Tae’s relationship to wanting their own with you, a romantic one. The mystery now was why arent you and Taehyung together? Was it because he was a hybrid or was he just not the right guy? did you reject Taehyung before? Did you get rejected by Taehyung and now he regrets it and wants you back? Jimin didn’t care he wanted you and that was final. Even if you never returned his feelings even just being by your side could be enough for him, enough that he could get over sharing your affection with Taehyung after all he was the first even if he hates to admit it.

Taehyung almost dropped the Icecream cones in his hands.

 Its been so long since you two had come to the beach, in fact, the last time was when Yoongi had hinted at you two being an adorable couple. Taehyung had gotten you ice cream to share and you had some dribble down from your mouth to your chin. Taehyung did it before his brain was able to process the action, he licked a stripe from your chin to your lips lingering for a second before placing a chaste kiss there. You were embarrassed, to say the least, and Tae hid his own embarrassment by getting up to toss a ball back to a bunch of kids playing volleyball. When he came back he noticed you with some of Yoongi’s cocktail and the two of you managed to finish the jug just between the two of you. Later at home Yoongi and Hoseok took to the twin beds in Tae’s room and you pulled him into your room. Tae had discovered you were really handsy and although he wanted you so badly you were both too drunk to do more than sleep after a sloppy makeout session. The next morning you had woken up first and Left some water and ibuprofen with an apple by his side. His morning wood making him panic in short horror prompting a quick cold shower. While he discarded his clothes he saw your underwear that you had slept in still coated in fragments of your arousal, on top of the laundry hamper and grabbed it as he stepped in the shower. It was the first time he had taken your underwear.

Yoongi had told him then to let you bring it up- the idea of you guys figuring out what you want moving forward as it was clear to him and Hoseok that you two were lusting after one another but was it anything more? Taehyung was in the midst of figuring out his feelings for you and what everything meant and how things were going to be different but you came in the apartment with breakfast goodies in tow. You managed to still look effortlessly beautiful in the morning and Tae was so happy that you got him his favourite things for breakfast from your waffle house.

“Tae, I’m so sorry about yesterday i was super drunk”

“I was drunk too Y/N its fi-”

“No it’s I'm sorry can we just forget this all happened i don't want to loose you Tae I love you. Can we move on please?”

Taehyungs heart shattered across the floor but he nodded and to put insult to injury you kissed his cheek before scolding Hobi for drinking The hot chocolate you meant for Taehyung and yourself.

“I’m sorry lil bro. If you wanna stay with us we can share my room, i have a double bed and Hobi can-”

“Its okay Yoongi- Hyung. I can keep it together for now, ill give it some time and if that doesn't work I’ll confess and we work from there. For now, her loving me is enough, even if its just friends. This love and adoration from her is enough.”

It’s Not Fucking Enough. Not anymore. That was then when he had you all to himself, No new boss keeping you at work always hugging you, No Bunny, no Cat. No it was war now, and Tae has just about reached his limit.