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emiewritesthings · 3 years

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doctor, doctor - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n takes it into her own hands to look after a sick jay

a/n: i’m not gonna lie i think this is one of my fav things i’ve ever written, i would really appreciate some feedback and p.s the beginning of it is based on that scene from brooklyn 99 :)

masterlist

“okay, it’s 10 o’clock, meaning halstead is officially an hour late to work,” y/n announced as she appeared from the break room with a mug of poorly made coffee. looking around, she had immediately distracted everyone in the room with her playful smile. “okay let’s do this, theories!” she encouraged, taking a sip with excitement, but immediately regretting it as s he spat it back in the mug and abandoned it on adam’s desk as she leant against it.

“uh, he forgot to set his alarm?” antonio suggested, willing to play along with the little game that y/n had created. however clearly his answer didn’t suffice as y/n scrunched up her nose and shook her head in disappointment.

“you are a detective in a unit that just last week rescued 5 people kidnapped and used as chess pieces in a human sized version of the game and the best you could come up with is he forgot to set his alarm? pfft, disappointing, dawson. who’s willing to take this seriously?” she scoffed, brushing his idea off with a simple roll of the eyes as the group laughed at her ridiculousness.

“maybe he has been murdered by a gang looking for revenge.” adam piped up, earning a sudden and rather forceful slap on the back as y/n cheered. her eyes looking over at antonio as she gestured towards the less experienced detective.

“yes, that’s what i’m talking about. bit dark, ruzek, but better than dawson’s,” y/n hummed, adam clearly pleased with the praise he had received by the pretty detective. “any one else wanna shot?” she offered it out into the room, suddenly the sound of rolling wheels on the chair had everyone turn to face al who was munching on a ham sandwich.

“he walked into the middle of a drug ring, slept with the kingpins daughter and is now having limbs removed, one by the hour.” suddenly an eery silence fell in the bullpen as al suddenly disappeared back to his desk and everyone was left with an image that she was sure was burned on the inside of everyones mind.

“uh, okay, someone might want to arrange a psych check for olinsky asap,” y/n mumbled, pointing in the direction where he had once been and looking around as if checking that she hadn’t been the only one to hear al’s suggestion. “anyways, all of you are wrong. clearly he has joined a motorbike gang and now makes his money on the road striking off names on the government’s hit list.”

just as the room erupted into discussion about how idiotic this conversation was, as well as their ideas, the sound of footsteps caught y/n’s attention as she arrived at her desk. however as he reached the floor, the reason for his absence was clear.

“woah, you look like death.” adam chuckled, it immediately being silenced as jay sent a deadly glare his way. with his skin paler than normal with undertones of green, a layer of sweat draped over his forehead. jay flashed as smile at y/n as he passed, reaching his desk and collapsing on his chair with a wince.

as everyone went back to what they were doing, y/n found herself straying her eyes away from her computer screen for longer and longer periods of time until she found herself by his side with a sickly sweet grin, pun intended.

“i don’t wanna hear it, y/l/n.” jay mumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers hoping it would somehow sooth his pounding skull. whilst usually he had every minute of his day just to hear the woman chat away about whatever crossed her mind, he had found himself in quite the state since last night, leaving him restless and irritable.

“believe it or not, i just wanted to make sure you were alright,” y/n’s entire demeanour crumbled as she melted at the soft features of his face that came with being so vulnerable. but from the look in jay’s eyes, it was clear he didn’t 100% believe her excuse. “and to ask what the hell you think you are doing here? you are sick jay, you need to rest.”

it was very rare that jay found himself ill. in the years that y/n had been working by the man’s side, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him with so much as a cough. in fact she had called him captain immune system for a period of time when she realised he was pretty much indestructible. y/n couldn’t deny the concern bubbling in her gut seeing him so weak.

“i’m fine,” with her eyes slitted in a look that practically shouted ‘bullshit’, jay continued. “i promise, it’s just a little cold. nothing serious, i think i’ll survive.” he joked dryly, finding it incredibly hard to look away from y/n for her eyes were filled with a warmth that he knew was an expression usually saved for those she cared deeply about.

“yeah well, you need to take care of yourself, jay, i’m being serious. chicago can cope if you just have one day off, get your energy back.”

y/n was reminded of the times she had the exact same words spoken to her by the exact person that didn’t seem to want to take them onboard. every time she had so much as a sniffle he would be straight over with some soup that his mother used to swear by and the name of a box set that he would put on for the two of them to watch as he sat stroking her hair in order to try and convince her body to rest. neither of them had anyone else to take care of them, so had taken it upon themselves to be that person for the other.

“now, i’m gonna go tell voight that i’m taking you home before you infect this whole office.” before he could object, she had already ran (not literally but jay was impressed by her speed walking) to her boss’ office. knocking on the door, with a sweet smile and a sea of words running off her tongue so quickly that voight had to agree just to shut her up, y/n returned by his side. “come on, germ face, your carriage awaits.”

“you know i love it when you talk dirty to me, y/l/n.” winking at her, y/n giggled as she supported him back down the stairs and out of the station. the two chatted away, y/n explaining how she thought al was secretly a sociopath and jay filing her in on the newest instalment of his apartment block drama until they pulled up in front of jay’s apartment building.

as they walked through the door, jay’s arm resting around y/n’s shoulders as he struggled to find strength, they managed to reach the sofa before y/n’s body gave up. both of them letting out large breathes before looking at each other and falling into laughter.

“you hungry, i could try making your mom’s soup?” y/n asked, as she pushed herself up to look down at the man. her hair falling down around her face and tickling jay’s skin. “i’m sure it won’t be as good as her’s but i’m willing to give it a try.”

the way she was sat with the large window gleaming light behind her, y/n almost looked like an angel. her eyes and smile were wide, with her beauty wrapping its hands around jay’s neck squeezing until his head felt light and he nearly reached up to touch her porcelain skin. but jay had noticed the sensation way before he was blocked up with a cold.

“yeah, uh, that sounds nice.” jay agreed with a minimal amount of sass, but y/n didn’t seem to notice as she moved off the cushions and towards the kitchen. she had pretty much memorised the recipe when jay had finally given it to her on her birthday after offering to pay for it multiple times. whizzing around the kitchen, she was too busy to notice the tired eyes admiring her from afar.

jay wished his mom was alive to see the woman that she would have loved. all the times he had brought girls back to his family when he was younger didn’t add up to an ounce of the beauty and power that y/n held in her middle finger. the way she bit back at his wit, but also had the ability to spot when he was upset from the other side of the city. she was everything her mother wanted in a daughter in law, everything she wanted for her little boy.

“okay, give me your honest opinion. i can take it i promise.” y/n sudden appeared with a tray that held a large bowl of the semi-thick orange liquid, a glass of water and a couple pills. approaching jay, she carefully helped him up from where he laid and placed it onto his lap. “actually that was a complete lie, do not tell me the truth. i may just cry.”

“why thank you, nurse y/l/n.” he teased.

“it’s doctor actually.” she quipped back.

jay chuckled lowly, as he grabbed the spoon and took a large spoonful to his mouth. feeling the slight sting of his tongue at the heat, it was only when the flavours hit that he was suddenly transported to an earlier time in his life. a simpler time. only this time there was y/n by his side.

“the verdict?” she prompted, taking a seat besides him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“not sure whether i want to tell you, don’t think you’ll fit in this room if your ego grows any bigger.” y/n grinned as she leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder. jay closed his eyes at the contact, feeling the ache in his body freeze for a moment as it registered the tingling sensation. “all jokes aside, it really is good.”

“i’m glad, your mother was a smart woman.” she nodded, leaning forward to turn tv on. jay continued to spoon the soup into his mouth, as y/n chose a show that they both had started together and had refused to watch another minute without the other. y/n leaned back making herself comfortable, having already texted voight telling him that she would most likely need the entire day off, and getting the go ahead, she had no plans other than being by jay’s side for the next however many hours.

it was sometime in the early evening and the tv continued to emit light, but neither jay nor y/n was paying any attention to the drama. jay, with his head on y/n lap, was leaning into her touch as her short, thin fingers ran through the dark strands that sprouted from his scalp. his body wrapped in a blanket that y/n had grabbed from his room, he felt completely at peace.

“you know what, i think you are more bearable when you are at death’s door.” y/n joked quietly, as the forest green eyes were exposed back to her own. jay groaned in annoyance, realising that there was no sweet y/n without the sharped tongue y/n. a trait he adored, but at his own expense.

“and to think i was starting to think you had gone soft on me, y/l/n.” he hummed, wishing he could forever have her giggle on repeat wherever he went, for the sound made goosebumps run down his neck and down his arms, like some kind of magic that only y/n possessed.

“as much as i love you, i can’t risk my bad ass reputation for you.”

although jay was sure it was just part of her banter, the moment the ‘i love you’ fell off her tongue, he found himself wide awake, unable to push past the feeling in his gut as it looped over again and again in his mind. y/n could see the conflict in his face, as he glanced up at her with something she had never noticed before.

“you mean it?” he asked.

“mean what?” confused, her fingers fell from his hair, making jay regret ever opening his mouth.

“do you really, you know, love me?” he knew he had committed too far to try and retreat. maybe he could blame it on the fact he couldn’t think straight, although she was like a lie detector that wouldn’t let such a bogus excuse pass. y/n blinked down at him, watching as he sat up to look at her with a hunger that needed to be addressed. swallowing the lump in her throat, y/n nodded.

“of course, you are one of my best friends, jay.” it was true, but it wasn’t the full truth, both of them knew that.

“i didn’t realise we had started lying to one another,” jay’s eyes were soft, as he reached to place his hand against her cheek, smiling as she slowly leaned into it. closing her eyes, she tried to find what direction she was looking for, but didn’t dare take the first step. without even thinking, jay jutted forward and captured her lips before they could form a single syllable.

gently, but passionately, jay and y/n moved their lips against the others. the feeling was ever-growing as the kiss deepened and deepened until they had no choice to pull back, deprived of their ability to breath. as jay’s eyes came back into view, y/n, for the first time in her life, had lost the ability to form a sentence.

“we just...” she began but it ran off quickly. jay chuckled.

“we did.”

the two sat in silence, examining the other one’s face until y/n found herself moving forward until she was sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as she pressed her lips against his. just like before their bodies and minds were set ablaze with desire and what had remained unspoken for what felt like forever. jay had nearly completely forgotten about the illness that had put him in the care of the woman that he craved more than anything else the world had to offer.

as their lips parted ways, suddenly the air had thinned and everything felt... normal. jay’s lips were unable to break out of the large grin mould that y/n had put them in, which was soon mirrored by the young woman. a small giggle escaping her lips.

“if i get whatever it is you have, i expect the exact same treatment.”

“only for you, doctor y/l/n.”

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birdbrain90 · 3 years

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Raindrops on Roses - A Sylki Fanfic

@swinging-stars-from-satellites (DAMMIT I told you it would make me write Sylki fic xD . This is what I came up with. I didn't do that "I end up in your bed" prompt correctly at ALL, but creative liberties are a thing. This is what I tell myself. It's not TERRIBLE for a 24 hour fic, at any rate. LOL) BASED ON THIS TROPE/PROMPT - "there were two beds but in the middle of the night, you still slip into mine and i don’t complain because you’re sick with a cold/fever because we were running away from the authorities last night and it was pouring rain, and i wake up the next morning and we’re not cuddling or anything, although i wish we were, but we’re facing each other and oh my god, you’re still asleep and i can see every strand of disheveled hair, every freckle, every eyelash, every single detail of your face, illuminated by the 6 am sunrise from the molding motel window behind you, is this love?" The rain hadn't ceased all day, and they wondered if it ever would. Loki and Sylvie had been running all morning and afternoon, trying to cover as much ground as possible before their next jump. They had taken to apocalypse hopping, because two Lokis, separate entities fulfilling the same cosmic role, could not exist together on the timeline. Neither of them found themselves satisfied with that answer, so they ran, and ran, and ran some more.

This time though, neither was alone. It had become fun for both of them, ducking and dodging order while chaos ensued around them. It wasn't much of a permanent life, but it fit somehow.

Finally they came upon a motel. It didn't take long for Sylvie to enchant the receptionist, procuring a room for the night.

"Some day you will have to teach me how to do it." Muttered Loki as he peeled his sopping wet jacket off.

"It's freezing. This weather is absolute shit." Looking like a drowned rat indeed, Loki smiled and waved his wrist, conjuring sleeping clothes for both of them. "Thanks. I'm going to take a shower."

There was an odd pause before she left. She wanted to ask if he wanted to join, and he wanted to ask if she wanted company. Neither had the courage, so the moment was lost on both.

When Sylvie emerged from the shower, her cheeks were blazing red. She flopped down on her bed, looking over at Loki who laid on his bed reading a book.

"My turn?" He muttered, not looking up from the pages. Eventually he got up and headed to do the same thing. When he also emerged clean and dry, he spied Sylvie asleep on her bed. Smiling, he raised his hands, grunting a little as a green glow lit his hands, and an unseen force lifted her into the air, while the same force prepared her bed, tucking her gently into it. "Goodnight, Sylvie darling." He smiled, secretly terrified that she might hear that last part.

Sylvie awoke some time later, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. She was...cold? That was unusual enough on its own. Every movement seemed to make her colder. She sat up and looked over at Loki, sound asleep in the bed next to hers. He didn't seem to be in any sort of distress. There was no way someone as sturdy as her would fall ill, but that's certainly how she felt. Maybe it was from being soaking wet all day…

Sylvie continued shivering in bed, debating going and taking another shower when something disrupted her thoughts.

"Sylvie…" came a whisper from the bed next to her. She rolled over and stood, throwing her shivering legs over the side of the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can’t sleep.” When she received no response, she stood and padded over to his bed. He was very clearly still sleeping. Why was he whispering her name in his sleep? “Loki…?” She called.

“Hmm?” Came his groggy reply. His eyes didn’t open, and she honestly wondered whether the oaf was even conscious or not.

“Loki I’m freezing. I can’t sleep. I dunno what’s wrong.” She shivered, immediately missing her blankets.

Loki said nothing, and his eyes still did not open. He took a sharp breath in through his nose, and clumsily peeled back the blanket, wordlessly inviting her into his bed. Sylvie faltered, not knowing what to think, but also not wanting to wait long enough for him to actually wake up and see her embarrassment if he was indeed still sleeping. Slowly, she climbed into the bed next to him and pulled the covers back up over herself. Immediately she was greeted with the smell of his skin. Sweet and spicy all at once. She was frustrated by how intoxicating it all was.

They’d grown close over the time they’d been running, but they were both too cripplingly shy to make any sort of advance. Sylvie didn’t understand it at all. She was no stranger to seducing in order to get what she wanted. Information, a drink or ten, relief from needs, it all came easily to her. Yet somehow here, in front of this beautiful man who had stolen her heart, it was way too real, and she felt reduced to a stuttering teenager. She huffed, rolling away from him in an attempt to forget his sleeping face. She had also completely forgotten the fact that she had been shivering from head to toe just minutes prior. Her quaking had ceased, in favor of warm, restful sleep.

The word “cozy” wasn’t a word Loki normally included in his vocabulary. He’d grown up surrounded by princely comforts, with more brought to him if only he asked. But cozy? That was a new one, and when he awoke the following morning it was certainly at the forefront of his mind. He hummed, stretching lazily and extending his arm. His entire body stiffened in fear when his arm rested on top of something soft and curvy. His breath halted in his throat, and he feared he might choke on it as his eyelids flew open to reveal Sylvie sleeping peacefully next to him. His eyes darted under the blanket, relieved and somehow disappointed at the same time when he saw they were both still clothed. When had she moved into his bed? He certainly remembered falling asleep separately last night. Having to consciously breathe in and out, he tried to relieve himself of some of the rigidity in his body, save for the painfully obvious spot.

Shaking his head, he steeled his nerves. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d been reduced to a terrified teenager. He looked over at the woman lying near him, his mouth falling open in quiet reverence when a sunbeam poked through the window and illuminated her face. Every gentle crease in her face, the swell of her lips, the long lashes that concealed the eyes he found himself staring into for way too long, it was all too much. He gasped, averting his eyes for fear his heart would leap right out of his chest. He stiffened again when he felt her shift, inching barely closer to him. He wanted to reach out and caress her face, the fear of waking her and ruining this moment overpowering his desires in that moment.

Loki wasn’t sure how long he had laid there, attempting to commit her sleeping face to memory. Her face while she was awake was its own kind of beautiful. He loved the way her nose would scrunch up at certain jokes, the way she would roll her eyes at him throughout the day. When they would get into trouble, her almost inhuman snarl set his blood aflame. He felt he could do anything while the heat of her battle rage encompassed him. Sleeping, though, she was completely different. Her face was peaceful, something he suspected she hadn’t had much of while she was awake. That thought, combined with the tranquility of the moment brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to give her a life of peace. Of stability. But he feared they might never get that chance.

Sniffling quietly, he decided to damn the consequences, and he reached out and brought a hand to her cheek. She did not move under his ghostly touch. He drew his thumb down the bridge of her nose, gliding it under her eyes, memorizing every hill and valley on her face. Moving a bit closer to her, he continued, his desire for her to know how he felt only increasing with physical contact. He removed his hand from her face, sliding it down her arm and eventually resting on her hip. Loki would never be able to explain where his sudden hubris came from, but he decided he would risk the angry palm that would surely fly at his face before too long. Butterfly kisses. Feather light touches of his lips that he was sure would wake her when she felt his quivering breaths on her face. He began at her forehead, kissing as much of her face as he could cover, before finally resting on her lips. He lingered there a bit longer, savoring the feeling. They had kissed before, in the citadel, and hadn’t seemed to find time for it since. He had been able to sneak a kiss on her cheek, or her knuckles every so often, but they hadn’t been able to find time to lay together and explore each other properly.

His heart bounced into his throat when he saw her eyelids bunch up, and finally flutter open. As soon as they did, she gasped and lurched backward.

“Loki! I-I… Uh….”

“Shh…” He crooned, stretching his hand out. “It’s okay. It’s only me, after all.”

“I-I… I was really cold last night. You pulled back the blanket so I… I just…”

“I have no memory of that.” He chuckled, before his face dissolved into concern. “But you? Cold? Are you okay?” He reached out a hand, pressing the back of it to her forehead. He shrugged, feeling no difference in her normal temperature. “You feel okay now. Likely from being out in the rain all day.

“Yeah…” She laid back down, still facing him. Loki followed suit, letting his head hit the pillow once more. They stared awkwardly for a while, fumbling around in their own heads and letting their cheeks darken several shades before someone spoke again. It was Sylvie who spoke first, looking down and counting the wrinkles in the sheets. Anything but meeting his eyes. “Loki…?”

“Yes?”

“We’re in a bed.” Oh that was dumb. Of all the things she’d ever said in her life, that had to be the dumbest.

“Okay? Yes. Yes we are.” She heard him chuckle, ending with a snort that made her want to reach out and smack him. “Brilliant observation, darling.” That word slipped out, and she saw fear creep into his eyes for a brief moment. What he didn’t know is how that one word flipped her stomach and filled it with butterflies.

“Idiot. That’s not what I mean. I mean…” What did she mean? She had no idea. “I want…”

“Yes…?”

“I want it to be like this. Just like this. Default. You and me.” The shit eating grin had not left his face, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to jump on him and strangle it off, or kiss it off. Maybe both. She wondered if he’d be into both.

“Of course. Next time, enchant the receptionist into giving us a key to a room with only one bed.” He laughed, grunting as she finally decided to reach out and shove his chest. He did notice, however, that after she was done shoving him, her hand lingered. He took the opportunity to place his hand over hers, urging her to feel the heart that beat only for her. “I’m teasing you. No need to get violent.” He smiled, his face melting into lovesickness. “I would love nothing more than to wake up with you in my arms every morning, wherever we are, at the end of a thousand worlds I only want to feel your skin and your heart entwined with mine. I lo-....” He froze, the phrase that threatened to leave his lips and the possibility that she might reject it cooled the flame in his gut. “Wh-what I mean to say is I…Um….Y-you see, I’ve thought about this quite a bit... I-I lov-...” He sighed, frustrated. “Can I just kiss you instead? Words are hard when they’re all for you.”

She nodded. His heart sang at her quiet acceptance as he joined his lips with hers. Eventually as their clothing began to fall away piece by piece, the drab motel around them became a luminous place of worship. The world could have ended around them and neither would have cared. This was enough, it was glorious, and it was all their own. Whatever came their way, they’d figure it out somehow, and they’d figure it out together. (This will be cross posted on my Archive of our Own account, Wonderchild90. So if you happen to see it there, that's me! It's not stolen. Oh but also if you enjoy sickening fanfics for these two dumb demigods, come have a look! Shameless self plugging. LOL.)

#pro sylki #sylvie x loki #love is a dagger #loki 2021 #lovedaggers

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Hi! I absolutely love your levihan stories! The way they care for each other is just gaaahhhhh.

I wanted to make an ask for a while, but I didn't have an idea. I was reading a story and got this random idea suddenly. How about Levi slipping in the bathtub and nearly drowning, but Hange hears the thud of his head hitting the edge or something and has to kick the door down and finds Levi submerged having breathed in water and with a bad gash where his head hit the tub?

Title: Triage

Summary:

"Levi could count with the fingers on his two hands, and maybe some of his toes, the few times he had seen Hange angry—very angry. Those rare times, she was a full blown tornado of screaming, shouting, kicking, rambling.

Albeit terrified, Levi had to note, Hange never raged for shallow reasons. Her terrifying rage, that came once a blue moon, always seemed to have a very good point."

For the first time in many years, Levi witnesses Hange's rage again.

Notes: I took some liberties with the prompt but I hope you still enjoy. Feedback is very much appreciated :D

NN from the last request: maybe he slips in the bath because of his broken leg from when he and mikasa saved Eren from the female titan?

Levi could count with the fingers on his two hands, and maybe some of his toes, the few times he had seen Hange angry—very angry.

It wasn’t something he liked to remember vividly, but it was something he ended up remembering anyway because of how jarring the whole scene of Hange’s rage was. She, who was usually more of like a whirlwind anyway, would suddenly transform into a full blown tornado.

A full blown tornado of screaming, shouting, kicking, rambling.

In whirlwinds and in gusts of screaming, shouting, she clarified logical points, rehashed commands, asked questions. At first her anger was chaos. When the dust cleared though, the haze dissipated, some poor sap always came out of it a learned man.

Her anger, that came once a blue moon, always seemed to have a point.

All completely comprehensible and thus, Levi could easily see reason and consequently be able to summarize the most anger inducing situations to two: One, any utterly stupid move that Hange cannot seem to understand which could cost hundreds, or thousands of lives. Two, utter negligence that could also cost hundreds or thousands of lives.

Notably, Hange would never release the uncontrollable storm for just one person. She had always been fun loving, peace loving. Although her sudden rise to the commander position had mellowed her down just a little, Hange always had a way of building camaraderie with even the lowest from such a high position, while at the same time demanding authority.

Maybe she mastered it, maybe there had been little to no reason to show that side of herself when she was constantly dealing with peace treaties and diplomacy issues.

At times, Levi wondered though, if that part of her had ever left.

It was something he pondered on, grappled with, when days were longer and workloads were kinder. Strangely, one day in late autumn, when the days were longer, when everyone was cramming as much work as they could before the holiday season came, Levi was reflecting on it for a little bit longer.

“Hange, are you okay?” The question forced itself into the conversation uninvited. Levi liked to blame the question for popping its head in like some audacious prick. Really, it had been his own fault at having downed one drink just too quickly that had gotten him at that. Of course, that hyperfixation on Hange, who was starting to look a little pink in the face too, had been at fault as well.

“I just have to go back to the office after this,” Hange slammed the glass in front of her. “Just one drink.” She added. This is the only drink I’ll have tonight.” She added again, after a few seconds.

She had a tendency of turning a little pink with just one cup. Levi wasn’t too nervous about it. Inebriation made him much quicker and much more confident about brushing problems away. “Do you really have to finish looking into those extra papers tonight?”

“Jean will be coming for them first thing in the morning. I don’t wanna keep any more diplomats waiting,” Hange explained. Her tendency to overwork was almost understandable. After all, Paradis was decades behind the rest of the world. With the impending war, Levi could only accept, while affording her a half smile.

They agreed on just half an hour, exchanging half baked ideas over one cup for Hange, two for Levi. Not enough for any of them to end up wobbling towards the exit. Levi hadn’t drunk in years though, having abandoned it after the adults in the survey corps had dwindled to just them. He just didn’t expect that just a sip of his second cup, would have him cross eyed for a moment. Luckily, he easily forgot about it with just a few quick blinks and a quick shake of the head.

“I should be asking you if you’re okay,” Hange said wryly. Her face had an almost pensive touch to it and Levi didn’t want to contribute to any more stress or sadness she might have been harboring then.

So he kept his answer brief, no room for questions. “I’m fine.”

Hange furrowed her brows at him. “Sure…” She started hesitantly. Then, she huffed. “Just make sure to go straight to the barracks… Okay?”

Before Levi could formulate a reply, Hange’s attention was suddenly elsewhere. She turned to her right. Levi followed suit to get a good view, only to be taken aback by the scuffle that had started only a few feet away.

Maybe drunkenness had him blending songs, conversations and scuffles all into one lively sound. The bar fight only stood out like a sore thumb when he focused on the two men, one carried a poor boy by the back of his hands, while another man readied his fists.

Before Levi could process the scene for just a little longer, Hange had come in between them. “Why don’t you keep fights to people your own age? You know this boy can’t beat you.”

“This kid’s parents are in debt,” one explained, his tone aggressive.

“Then send a payment request to his parents.” Hange kept her cool.

But for how long could they maintain the peace? Levi pulled himself up from his seat and wobbled closer to make more sense of the conversations

“We can’t collect…. They’re dead…”

There were many things Levi could stomach. Abuse, unnecessary bullying weren’t among them. Particularly when the child, an orphan at that, was much weaker than they were. He was ready to blink back his own dizziness to get at least one precise kick into the most proper place for a male asshole.

Hange though had been quicker, she had bent down. It turned out she had been dodging a punch. Everything after was a flash of movements Levi couldn't comprehend at his current state.

He stepped just a few feet back, enough to take better stock of the situation. The bar was crowded that night. A bar teeming with burly and most likely ill-intentioned men wasn’t anything new and he had made one mistake in his drunken state. He focused on two men, just among the others, separating those two from the crowds in the background.

Hange was balancing everything at once, keeping the kid safe, while delivering blows when necessary. She was skillful but with two men becoming roughly ten in just a split second, there were only too many ways she could defend herself.

So Levi bit back the alcohol that lingered in his mouth, the light pounding in his head and the way the lights and the quick motions just lingered for a little longer in his vision. He put one foot forward, ready to strike at the man approaching Hange. Defense and offense at such a state, when he was still working to get his flow and his bearings had him careless, receiving a sock to his upper left. He swallowed the bile that rose at his throat, closed his eyes for a second, blinking back the lights that settled in the black.

He managed to pull out before it could have been anything worse. His fighter instincts from the underground started to kick in soon after, ignoring the protests from his left side. They undermined whatever orders his injuries were screaming then.

Maybe that had been a good thing. In the end, humanity’s strongest had taken down ten men in the bar. Hange and the young boy had come out of it completely unscathed. The adrenaline had him breathing hard.

Levi still had his bearings. He turned back to Hange and breathed out. “Pay the tab. We’re getting out of here.”

***

The young boy was quick to introduce himself as they turned the corner of the bar, and made their way far from the store lined streets.

“I’m Joseph,” He started. Soon his words transformed into some over apologetic and grateful babble. Some Levi willed himself to comprehend, others he had been too disconcerted to pick up.

There were words he picked up more than others.

Orphanage. Illness. Mother. Dead. He soon put the puzzle pieces together himself.

Joseph had been staying in an orphanage just a half an hour ride away. His mother suddenly died from illness and before he even transferred to the orphanage, the men had ransacked his house for anything worth more than a penny, to help pay back the debt of his late father.

He just wanted a locket back, a last memento of his mother.

“I’ll coordinate with the other soldiers, see what I can do for you,” Hange said, coiling one hand around the boy’s shoulders.

“The police don’t listen,” he said in between tears.

“I’ll make them listen.”

The boy believed her, maybe he didn’t. Levi saw it appropriate that he himself stayed quiet. If Hange couldn’t convince the young boy, who could? Besides, his upper left side was killing him, his breaths were coming out in some strange rhythm and if he talked, would it make it come out as any worse?

“I’ll take you back to the orphanage first and I’ll see what I can do,” she consoled. “As soon as I get anything, I’ll make sure to send it over.”

“Those men are mean, please don’t hurt yourself.” Surprisingly, the boy seemed mature. Levi though was familiar with that trend, adversity seemed to do that to people.

“I won’t.” They turned another corner and Hange quickened her pace towards the barracks.

Levi followed behind, almost painfully. The quicker strides expected of him made him a little less tolerant of pain. He pressed his hand to his side for just a second. The sky was dark and pressing his side was a flash of movement, nobody should have noticed it except him. But somehow, he was self conscious.

Hange walked ahead though, the rhythm in her stride undisturbed. She hurried towards the stables but only pulled one horse out.

“You don’t need me to come with you?” Levi asked.

Hange shook her head. “It’s a short ride.” She helped the young boy on the horse and plopped herself lightly just right behind him. “I think I’m gonna spend some time in the headquarters tonight, do some research...” She looked pointedly at the kid.

“I’ll wait in the office---”

“No, go to the hospital.”

“Wait.. Why?” Levi spat.

Just a while ago, a few blows connected,” Hange said in a more serious tone. “It might be better if you have them checked out, just for some extra reassurance.” She turned her head toward the direction of the hospital only one block away.

“I think I have a few bruises,” Levi said. “But we’ve gotten much worse on the field.”

Hange gave him a pensive smile. “Just have it checked out, for me? It’s free for soldiers and I don’t think a free cold water compress could hurt.”

“I’ll just make one in your office.” They had a teapot and a kettle and they had some ice as well.

“I’ll pick you up from there on the way back.” There was no room for argument with that tone.

“I’ll wait then,” Levi said. He didn’t say anymore as he turned on his heel. Instead, he focused on the clip clop of the hooves as Hange galloped away. That was a sound that grounded him and when he kept his ragged breaths attune to that rhythm. Levi found that a constant rhythm made it much easier to focus on the road.

Either way, it looked like the walk would last an eternity.

***

For any sane person, it was a short convenient walk. Levi though was in this seemingly eternal trance of just overestimating then underestimating himself. Again and again.

He found ways to ground himself by focusing on the lights that dotted the corridors on the way to the hospital entrance connected to their barracks. He looked at the corridor leading to the commander’s office, almost tempted to turn the heel and treat for himself whatever injuries Hange might have seen in him.

I’ll pick you up from there on the way back. He didn’t have any way to coordinate with Hange then so he trudged straight ahead. The way to meet up with Hange much faster was to just bite his lip and brave the hospital over a few seemingly small injuries.

He had to work harder to contain himself as he saw the crowds from the crack through the half opened door.

Joy. Levi thought to himself. The emergency room was completely full on a weekday night. He settled for one of the benches at the back. The nurses were going around distributing forms and fortunately, he didn’t have to go up to sign anything.

“Some bruising,” Levi answered.

“Understood sir. We’re a bit full tonight so we might have to put you at the bottom of triage.”

Levi only nodded in acceptance, not wanting to waste any more energy or time coming up with something more polite to say. He leaned his back on the bench and stared up at the ceiling. It would be a long wait.

As soon as Hange came anyway, it would be a less tortuous wait, he was sure. She’d find some way to liven up the waiting room with her own chatter. Or maybe, she would see the line, realize it was a dumb idea and have him go back to the barracks and rest.

***

Levi must have dozed off. He jumped on his seat, biting back the white pain that flashed through him at the abrupt movement that pulled him out of stupor.

“Fucking hell, Hange,” Levi hissed.

Hange made herself at home right next to him. She put a hand to his forehead. “You still look a little tipsy.”

“And being tipsy doesn’t merit a trip to the emergency room,” Levi argued.

“It’s not that…” Hange said. “How long… before they call you?” In reply, Levi looked around the room, then back at her. “It depends how pressing the situation is, right? That’s how hospitals work when too many people are injured at once,” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Hange stood up, walked ahead to the counter with the nurse. Soon, a doctor approached her and Hange was discussing, gesticulating, and she put a hand to her side.

You’re overreacting. Levi allowed himself a weak smile as he mimicked her actions, pressing his hand to his upper abdomen. He let out a hiss and swallowed once again whatever had climbed up to his throat.

It was as if Hange teleported back to the seat next to him. “I talked to the doctors, explained the situation. They should be coming back here anytime soon.”

Levi didn’t reply. He saw that as a cue for her to leave, focus on whatever was at hand. She was twiddling her thumbs, she started to play with the wood splinters that stuck out of the bench.

And Levi was constantly reminded by her own restlessness, she had things to do, she couldn’t waste her time there when she had documents to prepare, diplomats to please and some locket she promised a young boy.

His insides were on fire, his breaths were coming out uncontrollably but he saw enough reason to muster a firm order. As her friend. He reminded himself. “Go back to the office. I’ll meet you there.”

Hange was surprisingly easy to convince. All he needed to do was get through the quick back and forth that followed.

“I’ll pick you up a bit later?”

“No, just go up. Go back to work.”

“What about---”

“I’ll meet you in your office.”

Soon, Hange had made a quick trip to the counter, had a quick exchange with the nurses.

“I’ll meet you at the office,” Levi said again for emphasis. That second time was notably harder to let out though.

“I told the nurses to alert me if anything happens.”

Overreacter. “I’ll meet you in the office,” Levi said once again.

Hange walked away with nothing more than a nod. At the least, that was one source of pressure out of the way.

***

The wait didn’t last much longer after that. He was led to a room, no time for pleasantries.

There were many others waiting. Soon after that brief check up, there would be someone else waiting. Maybe they were outside the room already.

The doctor asked him to undress and Levi focused on whatever glimpse of his chest he could get then as he removed his shirt. His chest was still a raw red, maybe there were beginnings of bruises among them. Levi couldn't even bring himself to look down for fear of sending another rush of nausea through him.

“Are you feeling nauseous? Any dizziness?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Commander said, you got involved in a fist fight…”

“At a bar…”

“And you drank?”

“Just two cups.”

The doctor sighed, handing him back his shirt. “I’ll have the nurse prepare an ice pack for whatever bruises you sustained. You should be clear to leave.” The doctor scribbled something on his notebook.

A few minutes later, Levi had a cold compress and a prescription for rest and painkillers. Fortunately, he had the freedom to not be in the hospital so he headed for Hange’s office, gripping the ice pack just a little harder. It did some work to manage his overall soreness and the throbbing pain in his upper right. Levi bit his lip.

It took him thirty minutes to reach the office. He had expected it to take five minutes. Levi though had taken some breaks in between, leaning back on the wall, taking in breaths much stronger than usual.

He opened the office door with a creak and it looked like Hange hadn’t been too engrossed with whatever she was reading like she usually was. Strangely, she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You’re here…” She said.

“You don't want me to be here?” Levi asked. He used that blessing of the moment to lean on the door to subtly catch his breath once again.

“No it’s just that… Did the doctor say anything?” Hange stood up from her desk, and quickly gathered the papers in front of her.

“Bed rest and to ice the bruises.”

Hange moved quickly. Levi didn’t even notice her come closer until she had tapped her hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna work in the bedroom.”

“Wait, not in the office? You can’t concentrate in the bedroom right?”

“I think you should rest there for the night, and I think I’ll be better able to concentrate, knowing you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re resting in the bedroom, that’s an order,” Hange said firmly.

She was playing the commander card again. By the looks of it, she would be hard to sway. She had gathered all her paperwork, slipping the thick wads of paper just under her arm. She had turned off the lights and when Hange walked a few inches ahead with that much confidence while gripping his wrist tightly, he saw no choice but to follow.

***

There was a nice bathtub in the commander’s room and Levi insisted he get enough time to himself to clean up the muck, the alcohol and the sweat that came with the fist fight. Hange had insisted he didn’t lock the door but a need for privacy had him a little naughty and a little assertive.

He pressed on the lock on the door slowly, enough to spit the sound of the click into three careful movements.

For the first time in a while, he was grateful for Hange’s pile of work. She didn’t seem to notice.

Stripping off his clothes was a methodical task and Levi realized, if he focused on the slipping movements more than the actual searing pain that followed, he could get anything done. Maybe even cover the few feet that separated the door from the bathtub.

He started off by biting his lip and bending over just far enough to be able to fiddle comfortably with the faucets. He couldn’t bring himself low enough to reach for the plug but even before that, he had made sure to twist both faucets to full blast so he wouldn’t have to deal with the bath emptying too quickly,

The soap was on the other side of the tub and Levi decided to put off grabbing it until he was submerged on the tub. He had spent just a little too much time staring at the soap bar and maybe the gears in his head were turning a little too fast, coming up with the best way to stretch out and reach for it.

There were more pressing matters at hand like the nausea, the pain at his side, the pounding in his head and his utter inability to focus. When he was dealing with those all at once, it was only natural he would run out of mind space.

The slippery part had been something he failed to consider. The last thing he remembered was stepping onto the tub, his eyes fixed on the soap in front of him. And before he could even consider anything else, his foot lost grip on the slimy bathtub.

Then his feet weren’t connected anywhere and he was free falling.

Everything blurred around him as something pulled him forward, into the water. He instinctively put his hands in front of him, once again neglecting the rim of the tub for one fatal second.

One fatal second that ended with a burst of white hot pain.

Pain had been kind for a while after that, settling as something dull at the back of his mind. It had done wonders as well to consume whatever throbbing sensation was eating at his abdomen then. He soon realized, if he closed his eyes, the pain only settled deeper into him, as something almost comforting.

And he realized there were warmer things, there were kinder things surrounding him, like the water that tickled at his sides.

Hey are you okay? There were knocks on doors.

“I’m fine.” He would have liked to muster. The water though that started with a tickle, continued to climb, up to his ears, then up to his mouth.

Her voice deadened to something faint. Faint shouts? Slams of doors. Faint, but annoying loud.

The water had done its part to blanket him, protecting him from the most annoying sounds.

Then when it deadened into nothing. Levi couldn’t help but be just a little relieved.

***

On most days, Hange was a whirlwind. On other special days, Hange was a cyclone.

Recently though, she had mellowed down into something less assertive, tamer, more predictable than a whirlwind.

Maybe a windy day? Levi would surmise when he thought comparing Hange to weather would be a good way to pass the time.

That had become a strange habit he would indulge occasionally. Something quick. Something subtle. Something he didn’t think too much of until he had enough time to be a little more observant of the weather patterns around him.

It was only when he woke up with bleary eyes, still too groggy to even do much but turn to his side, to the narrow white door, did he realize for himself. It was only when despite all that, Levi was attempting to listen intently to whatever scuffle was on the other side of the door, did he realize, god he missed that Hange.

He made out her voice, much wilder than before, her tone more dynamic and Levi was perking his ears up, attempting to break off from that sleepiness to pick up what he can.

He hadn’t heard that Hange in years. It could have been a dream for all he knew.

“The medical technique from Azumabito…. Saved his life….”

“You wouldn’t have had to rely on it if you caught it early on!”

“It was a busy night commander. He seemed fine at first---”

“Believe me… I understand but… Any other day… I gave you my own speculation doctor.” Hange’s voice had mellowed just a little bit. She had clipped the assertion with a title at least. Still, Levi couldn’t help but note that the tone sounded more like a ‘Hange’ than a ‘Commander’

“Yes--”

“No, listen to me… I may not be a doctor but I think the best course of action there was to have felt for any tenderness on his side right? Did you do that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why did you say you did it a while ago? Believe me, if you did, if you caught this early on, I’m sure he wouldn't be in as bad of a state as he is now.”

“Still, we’re grateful we were able to---”

“Catch it on time? He. Could. Have. Died.” There were slams of feet, slams on the wall, accenting every syllable and Hange said every word like it was bitter to her lips. “I’m honestly fucking grateful he slipped on the bathtub. At least, it brought him back here and you had to give him a full body examination. I don’t think you would have done it any other way!”

“Commander, please calm down.” The voice very much sounded like Moblit. A nostalgic but also very wistful thought. Of course it wouldn’t be Moblit. Moblit was long gone.

When Levi listened for a little longer, he picked it out in the midst of Hange’s tirade. “Jean?” Even saying a one syllable name turned out to be an ordeal. He painstakingly turned his head back and stared at the ceiling, blinking a few more times, an attempt to focus.

Focus came quickly a second later, with crashes and slams of wood on wood right after the other. Enough to have Levi shift the weight to his elbows, sit up for a second long enough to realize he couldn’t stay up for longer than that.

“Commander…”

“Jean… Carelessness...negligence….” Hange’s voice was softer than a while ago. Still, it was sharp, words were emphasized. Words he had managed to pick out, just by listening closely.

The door to his room opened and Hange entered. Surprisingly, it didn’t close with a bang. Whatever remnants of anger was still very much apparent on her face.

Hey four eyes. By god, he wanted to call her four eyes. She seemed more like a ‘four eyes.’ The anger, the aftermath had left Hange looking more like the Hange back then. So Levi stared a little longer, willing himself to find that balance between widening his eyes and squinting, just to get the clearest possible picture of her.

Hange’s eyes widened as he caught her gaze but she didn’t look too happy to see him. “You should go to sleep,”

How long was I out? “How long…” He managed to say.

“You had surgery just a few hours ago. You slipped on the bath tub and the door was fucking locked. I had to break it down. And god, Levi, you almost drowned....”

To his shock, he realized he didn’t even remember much of what followed the slams on the door.

Hange continued on, her voice echoing against the four walls. “Hell, you’re not even supposed to be awake.” A bout of realization in her eyes. She put one hand on her mouth. “Was I loud? Did I wake you up?” Hange’s question was laughable and if Levi had any more energy in him, maybe he would have let out a light chuckle.

He spared a subtle smile instead.

“I was huh?” Hange said. “Sorry about that.”

Suddenly, Levi had the motivation to shake his head and spare three words despite the pounding in his head. “I missed that.”

“MIssed what?” Hange asked.

By that point, Levi didn’t have much energy to reply. Instead he let his eyes dart from left to right, trying to take in as much as he can of her at once. He trusted Hange to be perceptive of that at least.

If she did notice it.

“You’re gonna have to take more time to explain that,” Hange admitted. She dropped one light hand on his forehead. “But not now, I’d rather you took this time to rest first.” She mellowed again and Levi had to painfully note that the voice had shifted to something more serious once again.

The faint recall of the old Hange justa moment ago, behind closed doors was all he had.

Don’t be ashamed. Be yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself. There were too many things Levi would have wanted to say at that moment. The words dried up, crumbling into sawdust even before he could completely open his mouth to say it.

He closed his mouth again, ready to restart the painful process of attempting to speak. Someone knocked and the door opened again way before he even started to feel some strength.

“Commander. The military police came to pick up the documents. I kept them posted on the situation. They’ll look into it now, process the paperwork…” Jean’s eyes were on Hange as he spoke. They soon fell to Levi. “Captain, you’re awake.”

“He’ll be going back to sleep soon,” Hange said, as if it were an indirect order. It wasn’t too hard to follow. Sleep was like a phantom looming over him. He just had to let it do its work.

There were still things he hadn’t completely comprehended and curiosity was good at keeping his surroundings lucid. He reached for Hange’s hand, in one swift motion enough to even leave his hand dizzy.

Hange turned back to him. “Levi, rest.”

He didn’t have to speak. All he had to do was blink, nod his head and Hange pulled the chair to his bedside.

“If I humor you now, will you make sure to rest?”

His energy was limited but if he pickled the right words, the right syllables he could get the answers he needed.

How bad?

Hange was his closest friend for a reason. She knew it at first glance. “I rushed you to the hospital as soon as you fell unconscious.” She put a hand to her head. “You had a concussion… But you know, it wasn't the concussion that was life threatening. Your spleen… it completely ruptured. They had to take it out. You’re gonna be out of it for a while…”

If the survey corps did anymore combat, maybe Levi would have been more worried. Recently, work usually consisted of paperwork anyway.

How long?

“You’ll be here for a few weeks maybe. Then more rest when you get discharged. You’re in really bad shape…” Levi looked behind Hange to see Jean standing awkwardly. There were only too many coherent ways to ask about the kid. He moved his hand up to his chest and drew a shape.

The locket?

“We got the issue with Joseph under control,” Hange said.

Jean stepped forward, moving closer towards the bed. “Commander Hange managed to find some records on them. Joseph’s father used to work with the Reeves company. He got involved in the underground, got blackmailed into dishing a lot of his pay for their silence. With the right investigation, we might be able to turn the tables around, get them to confess and maybe return the money or even more to their son but it’s gonna take a lot of meetings, negotiations---”

As if they had heard the word, some almost recognizable recruit entered. “Commander Zoe, the military police want to clarify a few more things about the papers submitted.”

“Give me a minute.”

“They’re waiting outside, commander.”

Hange sighed. “I’ll meet them now.” She turned back to Jean. “Watch over Levi first.”

Within an hour, Hange had shifted from the angry Hange to the mellow Hange then to the serious commander Hange. Levi watched her go for a few seconds longer, noting the strides that exuded the confidence and professionalism that came with her position.

Jean took up the empty chair Hange left and Levi was slightly ticked that she could have been replaced so fast. Somehow, his head was still keeping the screaming Hange on the other side of the door on replay.

“How are you feeling captain?”

Shitty.

“Commander Hange said you should be resting.”

Levi managed a light nod.

“Please rest,” Jean said.

Levi started to notice it then with him much nearer. His shoulders were tensed up, his hands on his lap and his voice, his smile both more stiff than usual. He furrowed his brows as if to say “are you okay?”

Jean was definitely rattled. “I don’t think I’d wanna see our commander like that again...” He admitted, a weak smile on his face but Jean’s eyes showed fear more than anything else.

No shit. Levi was very familiar with that Hange, having had his own fateful encounters with her over the years.

“Before you woke up… She got mad… Very mad… ”

Oh? Levi mouthed.

Jean was starting to flail his hands a little more. “God she was like a tornado. She was kicking benches. She was slamming walls…”

First time?

“But I don’t blame her… It was really negligence on their part. Apparently Hange had told them a while back to give you a thorough check…” He gave Levi a onceover. “Turns out she was right.”

Levi put one hand to his side, noting the tight bandaging and padding, Even a light tap was enough to send painful sparks through him. He stifled a wince.

“Be careful.” Jean clutched his hand, guiding it back down to the bed. “She might just get angry again if you disobey her.”

She wouldn’t. Hange didn’t get angry like that anymore. He couldn’t help but think though, he would have liked that. Levi didn’t let that thought out as anything more than a surreptitious smile. He looked back up at the ceiling and allowed himself a ragged exhale.

“She won’t,” Levi managed to say. “She mellowed down already.” The last few syllables came out more like a raspy cough.

“Captain, don’t hurt yourself.”

When Levi bit at his lip, cleared his throat, he realized he could muster a few more words. He gave Jean an indignant look.

Jean sighed, dropping his shoulders in defeat. “Something tells me you’ve seen her like this before. You know her best... What makes her angry? You know, so we can avoid it in the future.”

Negligence. Competence. When hundreds of lives were on the line.

Levi could have answered Jean’s question clearly or maybe it came out as mumbles. When everything was starting to blur against each other, it didn’t make it worth clarifying how much left his lips.

“When hundreds of lives are on the line?” Jean asked.

Usually.

With Jean’s question hovering above them in silence for a second longer, he started to doubt himself. There was negligence, incompetence involved but hundreds of lives on the line? He was just one life.

Maybe he had been a little too hasty in concluding what went on on the other side of the door. Those last few moments before he let exhaustion take over, Levi became aware of the taste of sawdust on his lips, the smell of alcohol and his own utter sleepiness.

“I’ll have the nurses come in to refill your pain medication. For now, you should rest.”

Right. He was on medications. So his mind started to shake with questions. Ones he would have liked to answer before he gave in to the trappings of sleep.

How much of what went on behind the doors was real? Did Hange really kick, slam furniture? Did she scream like a mad man? Was she a full blown cyclone?

He would never know. Besides, there was a door between them. All he had was sounds, his own facilities marred by whatever medication they were pumping him with and his own memory to make conclusions for himself.

He fell back to bed with one conclusion, one he had built for himself over the years and came back to him as one musing before he fell back to sleep.

When Hange was angry, very angry, she was a full blown tornado of screaming, shouting, kicking, rambling. She was a full blown tornado that had the rare quality of just making sense.

Her anger, that came once a blue moon, always seemed to have a point.

At first, Levi had managed to summarize the most anger inducing situations to two: One, any utterly stupid move that Hange cannot seem to understand which could cost hundreds, or thousands of lives. Two, utter negligence that could cost hundreds or thousands of lives.

Maybe there was a third anger inducing situation that only bared its fangs then, powerful enough to release itself even outside the commander facade. And maybe it didn’t have to be a hundred lives on the line for that monster to show itself.

Half asleep, his memories a blur and with the white door between them, he couldn’t be too sure if that had really been the cyclone he had witnessed a few times before. So he left it as speculation, something to indulge.

He focused instead on sleeping, on the rustle of pages and the wind that streamed through the window.

Reminiscing on the old Hange could wait. He still had lots of recovering to do.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Expediency - Part XIV

2.9 k After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 14

2.9k words

Mentions: family drama, crying, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, dead loved ones

---

Though it is your intention to deal with your family swiftly, your plans are pushed aside for a time.

In the wake of over twenty executions spanning across numerous planets and entire star systems, there’s much to be done. You spend days poring over work histories and background checks, working diligently to replace lost personnel. There are four positions that need filling on the Board of Charitable Affairs alone, though Hux is at your side to vet candidates. And then of course there’s spying to do, for several Valderan mineral companies are replacing key players in their operations. Canto Bight’s casino owners are kissing major ass, stolen funds need redistributing to various charities, several small insurrections must be crushed…

It’s like you blink and nearly a month’s gone by, days passing in a haze of paperwork, meetings, and formal appearances. You and Kylo are pulled here and there, always busy, always doing something, and the whole ordeal is more exhausting than you ever imagined it could be. Sleep becomes a luxury, and not for the first time do you find yourself marveling at the Chancellor’s ability to go without it. Still, the sacrifice is worth the reward, and you’re happy to see things straightening out amongst the Order’s possessions.

Finally, all is well, and you’re able to relax again. Handling your uncle and his children sits at the forefront of your mind, but you’re smart enough to know that you need rest before launching into yet another confrontation. Still, even after several days of decent sleep, you’re dragging your feet at midday, drowsiness clouding your mind and dulling your senses. More than once do you find the notion of taking a nap irresistible, and you sleep the sleep of the dead each time you lie down.

Miriam notices the change in your behavior immediately, though she says nothing as she helps you fix your hair and set your clothes straight each afternoon. Kylo is more vocal with his concerns, more insistent that you seek medical attention. He corners you one afternoon in your shared quarters, catching you just as you’ve awoken from another one of your naps.

“I fear someone or something has made you ill,” your husband presses, pushing back against your flippant view of the matter. You turn away from your vanity, amused as you take in your husband’s furrowed brow and tense posture.

“Kylo,” you say, voice dripping honey, “I’m just a little tired. I’m not dying.”

Your husband rushes to your side, taking your face in his hands as he becomes more desperate than you’ve ever seen him before. “My love, I am begging you—”

“And I,” you cut gently, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist, “am begging you to not worry about this.”

Kylo’s exasperation heightens, though you don’t let him go on.

“I’m fine, darling” you insist, fussing with the cuff of your husband’s sleeve. “I’ve never been better.”

---

Returning to the palace is almost surreal, everything just as you left it all those months ago. You hadn’t expected anything to change, not really, but the sameness of it all still makes your chest clench in the strangest way. Every rug, every tapestry, every artifact and decoration… each one reminds you of a time that was not long ago, though you can hardly recognize that version of yourself now.

Two Knights of Ren flank you on either side as you glide into the receiving room you know all too well, your only protection on your home planet. Kylo was insistent for a while there, demanded that you be attended by stormtroopers and Reds and a number of other personnel, but you managed to talk him out of it. Ap’lek and Vicrul are more valuable than fifty imperial guards put together, and besides, you are adored here— the chance of you being harmed is slim to none.

Your uncle’s throne still sits on its dais in the center of the room, this fixture too unchanged. You approach it cautiously, mildly afraid to be caught near the thing on principle. It was the cardinal rule of your childhood— do not sit on Uncle’s throne, not under any circumstances. How many tongue lashings had you received for climbing up here as a child? Ten? Twenty? You can’t be sure after all these years.

What you do know, however, is that your uncle’s throne is even more comfortable now than it was in your childhood.

As if on cue, the patriarch of your remaining family comes striding into the room, mid-conversation with one of his attendants. His entire body shudders when he lays eyes on you, no doubt surprised to see you, or anyone else, for that matter, in this room. Arriving unannounced was a key element in your plan, and, if your uncle’s wide-eyed, horrified gaze is anything to go by, it’s already having the desired effect.

You let your uncle splutter stupidly on the floor for a moment, let him go through aborted versions of your name, your old title, and your new one before he finally blurts, “What are you doing here?”

It’s by no means a respectful way to address his Empress, but you’re too pleased with the way he cringes at his own words to care.

Setting your expression carefully, you gesture about the room with one lofty hand. “I’m here for a visit, Uncle. I wanted to check on the state of things here.” Your voice drops, becomes less pleasant. “The state of our people.”

Your uncle looks as if he’s going to vomit. This pleases you.

Mila is the first to come before you, startled like her father was upon seeing your face. She has the decency to kneel though, to show you respect as she waits for her brothers to arrive. And they do after several minutes, the both of them looking ruffled and perturbed as they shuffle into the room.

“You do not kneel before you Empress?” Ap’lek snaps, incensed by the way Sebastian and Tensin make no move to join their father and sister on the floor.

Sebastian, the smart-mouthed little shit that he is, opens his mouth at once, no doubt about to spit something acidic and defiant in Ap’lek’s face. But your uncle stops his son before he can do something stupid, yanking the eldest boy down onto his knees.

“Shut up and kneel down,” the King hisses. “Both of you.”

Sebastian and Tensin need no further prompting after that, though they obviously aren’t happy about being forced to show fealty to you. Mila, however, looks almost afraid, refusing to meet your eyes even as she says, “To what do we owe this honor, Empress?”

You like this change in your cousin’s demeanor, like the way she addresses you with humility and respect. So, you answer her question calmly, though you can feel rage coming to a boil in your chest.

“I am here, Princess, to tell your father that I know what he’s been doing with his people’s money.”

At this, your uncle pales, shifting uncomfortably on his knees. He, too, now will not look you in the eye, an indirect but still very overt admission of his guilt. You can’t believe him, so shameless and yet so cowardly at the same time.

Your uncle drops his head, voice subdued as he speaks. “Empress, I think you’ve misunderstood—”

Something in your snaps then, for how dare he treat your like you’re stupid, like you haven’t been paying attention?

“Oh no, Uncle, it is you who has misunderstood,” you snap, rising from his throne. Venom drips from your every word, Ap’lek and Vicrul your dark, dangerous shadows as you stalk closer and closer to your family. “You misunderstand the purpose of your tax dollars; you misunderstand the needs of your people. They suffer under the financial burden you’ve placed upon them while you snort spice and fuck whores.”

“Do not speak to my father like that!” Sebastian shouts, jumping to his feet in front of you. His eyes are wild, but you are equally as enraged, getting in his face, daring him to so much as touch you.

“Harm me or my child and it will be the last thing you do, you insolent little fuck.”

All eyes land on you, the members of your family stunned into silence by the implications of what you’ve just said. Mila is the only one brave enough to speak, eyeing you from the floor with a look of utter shock slapped across her face. “You’re pregnant?”

Remembering yourself, you take a breath and set your hands on the almost imperceptible swell of your stomach. “Yes, I am pregnant,” you affirm, speaking softly as you think of all your days spent in bed and the way Kylo cried when you told him what you knew. It was the one reason he was so insistent that you come here armed to the teeth.

Your family looks upon you as if you’re a live explosive then, falling all over themselves to widen the distance between all of you. You crowd right back in, however, undeterred and unafraid. “All of you must understand, then, why I came to do this before my condition progresses any farther.”

Tensin decides to be bold. “And what would this be?”

Cutting your eyes away from him, you look squarely at the King. “I’ve come to take your father’s crown.”

The noise that comes out of Sebastian is indignant and angry. Mila gasps, eyes wide and terrified. Tensin turns white as a sheet. And your uncle? All he does is stare up at your stupidly, mouth opening and closing on what appears to be its own accord for several seconds.

“You can’t— You can’t do that,” he stammers, looking from you, to his throne, and back again. “You can’t— Who will rule in my place? You?”

“I have the galaxy, Uncle,” you state, voice even and calm. “I don’t need this planet.”

The King looks at his eldest son and then back at you, a silent question swimming behind his eyes. You refuse to answer it, simply holding out your hand and eyeing the crown that glitters before you.

“Take that ridiculous thing off your head.”

Your uncle hesitates for a moment, a look of utter heartbreak coming across his face as he finally reaches up and out, handing you his crown as instructed. You hold the thing in your hands for a moment, studying the craftsmanship, the fine jewels that glint so beautifully in the light…

And then you throw it at Mila’s feet.

The clang of metal against marble bounces off the walls of the room again and again, the sound almost painfully loud in your ears until Mila’s able to get her hands on her father’s crown— or, rather, her crown. You see tears in her eyes as she studies it, looking at the gold and gilding as if she can’t believe it’s real.

Your uncle is clearly bewildered, shaking his head as he asks, “Why?”

“Because she’s smarter and more capable than both of your sons put together.” You lean down, really get in his face so that he can feel your anger properly. “And to think that you were going to sell her to the highest bidder.”

These words suck all other protests from your uncle’s mouth, and you can see now that this is over.

“You and the Princes will leave this palace immediately,” you declare. “You are not allowed to return for a year.”

Tensin looks distressed. “This is our home!”

You eye him coolly. “Not anymore. I can’t have you poisoning Mila’s reign with your childish partying and idiotic ideas. Now leave me and your Queen alone, all of you.”

Your uncle and his sons stumble out of the room, dazed and humiliated. Mila finally rises to her feet once they’re gone still weakly clutching her crown in one hand. Tears stream down her face. She looks like she’s been punched in the gut.

“Don’t waste it,” you say simply, tossing your head towards the throne in the center of the room. “I can take it from you just as easily as I took it from him.”

“I won’t,” Mila whispers. You believe her.

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

And then you’re walking out of the room, your guards trailing behind you without a word.

Mila calls out after a moment, calls you by your title and then by your real name.

You turn to her. “Yes?”

“I—” Your cousin is distraught, eyes darting as she pants for breath. “I’ve been do awful to you. I treated you like dirt, I— You could have let Father sell me to that old man, and I would have been miserable. Why would you give me this instead?”

You stare her down for a moment, considering what to say. “I’m not like you, Mila. I’m not cruel.”

Mila shudders like she’s been slapped, and you turn to leave the room.

---

Ap’lek and Vicrul fly you out into the countryside after the lot of you make your exit from the palace, cruising at a comfortable speed as you take in the rush of scenery bellow you. This part of your planet feels as though it belongs somewhere else entirely, underdeveloped and free from the crowding of urban sprawl.

Your mother’s house, like the palace you just came from, is exactly as you remember it. The landscaping, the front steps, the courtyards— there’s not a blade of grass out of place, and the joy you feel because of this makes you want to weep.

Stepping inside is like stepping back inside, for you haven’t been to this place since you were a girl. Servants and small droids bustle about, putting on the finishing touches for your arrival. You’d asked to have the place opened up a couple of weeks ago, wanted to spend some time here after you finished dethroning your uncle. But now that you know you’re pregnant, you have other plans for this home.

Shooing Ap’lek and Vicrul away, you go exploring, halfway surprised that you still remember your way around. But no, you haven’t forgotten the layout of this house you love so much, these halls and rooms you played in as a baby.

You peek in your old bedroom, delighted to see that no one’s changed the colors on the walls. The same furniture that looked so big in your eyes then only looks average now— small, even. Your little window even faces the same flowers, the same fields, the same sunshine. At once, you decide that your child will know all these things too, just as you did.

Crossing the threshold in your mother’s room feels almost like stepping into a tomb, though the sensation is not one of dread or gloom like you thought it would be. Her bed and furniture are, like everything else in this house, just as they were when she was alive, though the vanity looks strange without her things strewn across it. You can remember your mother sitting there before the mirror, a tube of lipstick in her hand, a bottle of perfume close by. All little children think that their mothers are beautiful, and you were no different back then. Now, though, you realize that your mother really was a gorgeous woman, buxom and bright and so, so pretty. She would have you help her sometimes before she left for a party, would let you pick out her earrings or ask you which scent you liked better that night. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you reach up and unclip your own jewelry, laying the pieces out carefully on the vanity as your first action as this house’s new mistress.

The covers on the bed aren’t the ones your mother slept under, but you still feel like you’re crawling in bed beside her as you lie down. A length of time passes in silence after that, how much you can’t be sure, but you’re brought back to reality when you hear heavy boots in the hallway. Kylo appears in the doorway not one second later, quiet as he pauses to study you for a moment. And then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots, he’s lying down beside you. The two of your clasp hands, tangling your feet together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“How did it go?” Kylo asks, though you’re sure he already knows.

“Mila will be coronated this afternoon.”

Kylo nods, unfazed. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you say softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Kylo turns to kiss your palm, gentle in the same way he’s been gentle since he found out about the baby.

“This is a very beautiful house,” Kylo declares, leaving the topic of your uncle and his children behind. “Why are we here?”

“This is where I grew up,” you explain, fingers in his hair now. “I was born in this room.”

Kylo almost-smiles. “What a lovely place for a child. I see why your mother chose it for you.”

It’s your turn to nod. “I know. I… I want to be pregnant here. I want to give birth here, like my mother did. The baby needs to feel the sun on his face, needs to breathe real air when he takes his first breath.”

Kylo pulls you closer, kisses the top of your head. “I’ve always thought space was too cold for an infant.”

And just like that, the matter’s settled.

Everything’s settled.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #ame #my writing #tw: pregnancy #cw: pregnancy #pregnant!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Eye of the Storm 8

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), unwanted touches, prolonged eye contact which makes me wanna believe in the Church and all it’s saint to ask for absolution.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Yay another chapter of the Asgardian bitch boys causing trouble for our reader (much like @lokislastlove is causing trouble in my dms)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your days with Loki passed swifter than those with his brother. Your work was mostly uninterrupted as Loki left early and returned in the late afternoon with some tasks to attend to as he ate dinner. His orders were few as you brought his meals without prompting and he was content to his privacy upon bathing and retiring.

In the time you spent as the Prince's chambermaid, you began to think it far preferable. Even if you were a pawn in his game, his treatment almost atoned for his purpose.

It had been less than a week since you had last seen the king and since Loki insisted that the king marry, it was his responsibility to see it through. Every single detail. It was Thor’s way of punishing his brother’s impudence. As the queen had arrived days early, the wedding was pushed forward. No longer scheduled for the day after her planned arrival, it was to be the day of.

On the day of the nuptials, you brought up Loki's breakfast and he was already awake. He ate at his desk as he flipped through a ledger, an emerald robe around his slender figure. You stood by the door, ready to clear his plate when he was done.

He turned to you as he wiped his hands and stopped you from stepping forward as he turned a palm out to you.

"You know what day it is?" He asked.

"The day of the wedding, your highness," You answered.

"It is," He smiled as he stood and crossed to the large wardrobe against the wall. He pulled open the right door and reached inside. "All the palace staff will be hard at work, in fact I did have to pull a few hands from the streets to fill in the holes in the roster." He turned back, a length of forest green silk hung from his grasp. "My footman Bradin will continue to see to my brother and so I shall require you to act as my cup bearer."

"Cup bearer?" You echoed. "But--"

"Firstly, you must put more effort into holding that tongue," He warned. "Secondly, it is a formal occasion, not some feast, so you shall stand by, diligently, and keep my cup full. I have faith I should be wanting for wine quite often."

"Yes, your highness," You dipped your chin in deference.

"And so you shall wear my colours," He neared with the dress, "I shall provide you a belt as well and you might forgo that stained monstrosity," He pointed to your apron. "Your duty is simple, I've seen you faced with far greater. You will serve me and you will keep silent. Understood?"

"Yes, your highness," You answered.

Loki had a way of speaking which was gentle yet patronizing. He expected what he said to be heard and his desires to be appeased. He was far more subtle than his brother but in a way, it suggested he was far more dangerous.

He held out the garment and you took it from him. You folded it over your arm as he adjusted the belt of his robe and gripped his lower back as he stretched. He turned away, seemingly done with the conversation.

“You may clear the dishes and go change,” He commanded as he strode to the door of his bath chamber. “I expect you ready within the hour. Do await me in the receiving chamber. You might sit on the balcony and enjoy the sunlight in my absence.”

“Your highness,” You accepted and he disappeared through the door.

Those times when you left upon your own had become so foreign and were just another facet of serving Loki which felt strange. You couldn’t gripe however, even if that gnawing in the back of your mind never quite let up. It was like limbo. You didn’t expect to be in the prince’s employ forever and the inevitability that the king would put his foot down made you ever uneasy. It was only a matter of time and the minutes, hours, and days did seem to move quickly.

🌩️

When Loki found you on the balcony staring down at the ground far below, he frightened you. You turned to him and bowed your head. He was dressed in a black jacket trimmed in a similar gold to that around your waist. His dark attire made him look even taller and his green eyes seemed to glow as they carried their usual imperious glimmer. They took you in and he arched a brow.

“Presentable,” He remarked. You didn’t expect anything more as he flicked two fingers in a signal for you to follow him as he swept back through the archway. “The ceremony shall begin shortly. You will go to the feast hall and aid the other servants in the last of the arrangements as I ensure that the bride and groom make it to their vows.”

You nodded, thankful not to to be forced to sit through the long and tedious wedding rites. You’d heard that nobles tended to take hours to read them aloud whereas peasants could be married in a matter of minutes.

He spun back to you and brought his hands up just before your shoulders. You stopped short as he framed you with his fingers and squinted. He snickered as his facade finally cracked.

“You do know my brother is going to be mad at the sight of you,” He slithered. “Oh, I can’t help myself though. He has been rather unbearable in your absence. More than usual.”

You pursed your lips and lowered your lashes. A servant would never dare speak ill of any noble, even if humoured by another.

“Don’t you fret, he will have a wife to keep him in line and she is not the type to abide his nonsense,” Loki assured and turned once more as he led you across the room. He opened the door himself and ushered you through to the corridor. “Oh my,” He shut the door behind him and hovered his hand just beside your arm as he looked at you once more, “I did a terrible job at guessing. It is rather… snug.”

“It fits,” you assured him as you touched the silk across your stomach. “Thank you, your highness.”

“So long as you can pour wine, I suppose it does not matter,” He said. “Well, my dear, you best be off and I must hurry if I am to meet the cleric. Ugh, I do despise weddings.”

He waited until you moved to part. You listened to his footsteps mirror your own as they faded down another corridor. Soon enough you could no longer hear them and as you reached the stairs, you paused. You weren’t stupid enough to trust Loki but you truly couldn’t guess what he was up to.

🌩️

The feast hall was a flurry of activity. Instead of the long benches formerly facing the trestles, each guest was to be seated in their own cumbersome yet elaborate chair, with only a few of the further tables lined with cushioned stools. The golden cutlery, freshly polished was laid out carefully, and silk streamers were braided and twisted along both tables and columns.

Melora was among the hive of workers. She looked you up and down as you helped cover the last table with an ivory table cloth trimmed in silver and red. The king’s chair would be hung with his sigil and the new queen’s would wear her own.

“We’re all very curious about what has become of you. We only ever sight you when you’re sleeping or waiting on the cooks,” She said. “I see the king does treat you well.”

“It is the prince’s generosity,” You assured her. “I’ve since been reassigned.”

“Pity,” She gave a sarcastic frown. “I’ve recently been placed in a new posting as well. I get to sweep the upper floors now, I might just see you upon your own duties.”

“Perhaps,” You smiled, shrugging off the tinge of envy in her tone.

You carried on and found yourself in a sweat as Agnes called for the servants to assemble in the corridor. The high collar of the dress was damp, though even your bare arms felt smothered from your excess. As before, servants were selected to be servers and you were sent to stand at the table just to the left of the marriage dais.

Loki would sit there with several of the high lords, a generous vantage of the bride and groom. You were suddenly nervous as the other women lined up with their ewers and a silence seeped into the airy hall. It was as if every single servant was holding their breath in anticipation.

When at last there was a sign that the feast was about to commence, you stood rigid and stared at the door along the other end of the hall. Your head snapped back however as another opened opposite it, hidden just behind the couple’s dais.

You watched as a woman entered, her skin a rich brown and her eyes as dark as onyx. She wore a bejeweled scarf along her hairline, a swath of braids overflowing beautifully down her back. She walked with shoulders back and head high, the king emerged just behind her. Neither appeared happy.

You looked away at once, your eyes on the chair before you, where the prince would sit. The woman, the queen you assumed, Calla, whispered something as a chair scraped, followed by another. You felt the heat of another’s gaze and ignored it. Don’t look, don’t look. You knew it was Thor watching you, even with his new wife right beside him.

The king cleared his throat. “Bradin,” He called to the footman who shut the door they’d come through, “You may permit my guests to enter and have the kitchens commence with serving.”

Bradin voiced his acquiescence and descended from the dias to march across the hall. He had the doors opened and announced the commencement of the wedding feast, though all you could hear was the crowd without buzzing with impatience. You tilted your head and looked down to the double doors as the nobles began to pour in, you kept your attention on them to keep from acknowledging the king.

Loki appeared at the end of the table though you hadn’t seen him amid the influx. He traipsed along the empty chairs and dropped into his with a flourish. He let out a sigh and reached for his goblet, all courtesy for other guests was gone. He held up his cup, an emerald shone from his middle finger.

“Dear maid,” He called over his shoulder. “I daresay such tedium did make me thirsty.”

You stepped forward and poured. Loki turned his cup as you finished and glanced over at you. He leaned back in his chair as he craned to see you.

“I do like that colour,” He mused. “You might keep that dress.”

“Thank you, your highness,” You lowered your chin and set down the ewer before stepping back.

Loki sat straight and watched the other nobles as they searched around for their seats, directed by the servants in livery appointed to the task of sorting the bodies. It was some time before all had stilled and yet they continued to chatter. The ruckus continued until a horn blew from the front of the hall and all looked to find their king standing beside Bradin who held a twisted golden horn.

Thor squared his shoulders and peered staunchly around the room, his subjects in communal awe and shame. He barely looked a man on his wedding day.

“I will make it brief as we’ve all been so impatient for this feast,” Thor began. “So I will do no more than welcome my wife and queen, Calla, to her new kingdom and home. May the fates make our marriage a long and prosperous one.”

He raised his glass to Calla and drank. Fandral stood to your right and cheered, encouraging the rest of the nobles to break out in an uproar, clinking their cups and hollering. Thor sat and his wife attempted a smile at him. You wondered how he’d so quickly built such a wall between them as the woman hid her irritation with a sip of her own wine.

Servants appeared with trays full of food and the frivolity began. Guests were all too happy to indulge in both drink and roasted elk. Loki picked at his plate as he seemed disinterested in much of the affair. He sent the occasional glance to his brother, you suspected to make sure he had not riled his wife, and then returned to poking at his supper.

He placed his fork down and beckoned you forth with a finger. He grabbed his cup and held it for you to fill. You took the pitcher and poured carefully. You felt a brush along your thigh and then fingertips pressed to your hip. You looked down as Loki gripped your hip and purred a thank you.

The pitcher hit the lip of the cup and you spill some onto the prince’s dark trouser. You righted the jug and set it down as you reached for the cloth napkin untouched on the table.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” You sputtered. “I didn’t--”

You began to daub at his tunic hem where crimson droplets had speckled and your hand thoughtlessly slipped lower as you tried to mop up the rest in his lap. He grabbed your hand and held it against his crotch, just for a moment, then slowly nudged it away.

“Now, now, your thoroughness does exceed propriety,” He was smirking as you recoiled and his green eyes flitted over to the royal dais. “What shall people think?”

Your gaze followed his and you found Thor watching you. His expression told you he had witnessed the entire disastrous encounter. You wrung the napkin in your hands and apologized once more before you stepped back against the wall. Loki took another napkin and chuckled as he wiped himself dry.

You bit your lip as you stared at the legs of the prince’s chair. You wanted to dissolve into air. Wanted to be nothing. You fought not to show your distress.

“Oh, my brother is a simple man,” Loki spoke over his shoulder, “Even a wife cannot distract him so long.”

You looked up again. Loki nodded to the royal table and once more you dared to peek. The king had one arm around the back of his wife’s chair and the other fought hers in her lap. He groped her thigh as he pressed his lips to her cheek. His assault was out of place as he barely seemed to notice her at the same time as his eyes clinged to yours. As your gaze met his, he grinned and hugged Calla until she slapped his arm.

“Oh, this might have been a disastrous mistake,” Loki sneered. “But it is no longer my mistake.”

You shook your head and glared at Loki. You weren’t surprised that this marriage was much more than political ploy for him but you were repulsed by how easily he used those around him. You were a servant, you were meant to be used but Thor? His own brother? For all your distaste of the lecherous king, you couldn’t help but pity his familial binds.

“More wine,” Loki called as he raised his cup again. “And this time, do try not to make such a mess.”

You came forward and filled his cup again. Your eyes went back to the dais without thinking. Thor still watched you and his grin only grew as he caught your gaze. The hand not thrust between his wife’s legs went to the back of her head and he turned her forcefully. He pushed his lips to hers, the entire time he never looked away from you.

You weighed the pitcher and lowered your head.

“Your highness, I should fetch some more wine,” You raised the ewer as you spoke.

“Oh, please do,” Loki bid. “Before our king decides to consummate his marriage before the entire court.”

🌩️

The rest of the feast went on much the same. Loki kept finding reasons to call for more wine and his fingertips found new places to dance as his eyes taunted his brother. Thor was trouble enough as he harassed his own wife who was less than impressed by her new husband. You wondered if it were too late for her to absolve the union.

Thor and Calla’s departure marked the end of the day and at last the guests could retire, many drunk and stumbling. You were starting to think they cared more for the nine courses and casks of wine than their own king.

You followed Loki through the corridors, weaving past the inebriated and the loitering. He seemed little affected by his indulgences or the evening as a whole. Yet the more you stared at his shoulders, you found yourself wholly irritated by him and the royal will.

You were tired of it all; you didn’t want to be another plaything for these spoiled brats, you’d only come to sweep and change linens. You were entirely ill-fit to do both.

Loki swept into his chambers and you closed the door behind him. He went to the chaise and sat heavily, leaning on his hands as he looked at you and smirked.

“What a night. More amusing than I could have expected.” He said.

You didn’t say anything. You stared back at him and he lifted a brow.

“What is it? You do seem to be holding something back, dear maid?”

“No, your highness,” You lied as you folded your hands together. “I am merely awaiting my next task.”

“I prefer boldness to impertinence,” Loki’s smirk fell, “So I suggest you speak whatever has turned you so sour.”

“I am only curious, shall I ready your bed? Draw you a bath?” You hissed, filled with a haughty breath. “Or perhaps you are more like your brother than you would admit and you’d prefer me on my knees?”

Loki blinked and his lips parted. He nodded and hummed as he considered you. He stood, slowly. His steps were deliberate as he neared and stopped before you. He reached up and played with the collar of the dress around your neck. He leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Not tonight.” He said, “This has been quite the day. You are exhausted. You are not thinking.” He took your chin between his index and thumb and made you look him in the eye. “I command you to go and rest for there will soon be another day upon us and much work to do still.”

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i-like-plan-m · 4 years

Note

Lán Zhan has a fatal case of Hanahaki desease. He hides it from everyone while resigning himself to dying, and tries to get his affairs in order by the time he dies. Plot twist: Lwj’s father died by that same illness and Lan Qiren immediately recognizes the symptoms. He tries to do his best to help his nephew by matchmaking lwj and wwx together into confessing their love for each other.

this prompt made me laugh, thank you anon

Ao3: break the silence with these beating hearts

His brother had been a man of many virtues. The problem was that he had just as many faults, and improving most of them went ignored in favor of attending to those virtues.

Which left Lan Qiren to watch his brother destroy himself, and then to deal with the consequences of his actions. Alone. He took on Qingheng-Jun’s responsibilities. His duties. Even his sons.

Resentment would have been an easy path to take. He might have even learned to hate his brother, had it not been for his nephews. They were a joy he had never expected, one he hadn’t earned, and yet his all the same.

He raised them. Taught many of their lessons himself, occasionally even shirking his own duties when they were younger just to spend more time watching their little faces light up every time they accomplished something, every time they received a word of praise.

The point was, Lan Qiren knew his nephews better than anyone else in the universe.

So he took one look at A-Zhan and knew something was wrong. His nephew was utterly unreadable to the rest of the world, expressionless and emotionless to anyone who didn’t know better. Who didn’t know what to look for.

Lan Qiren did. He paused in the doorway of the library, frozen in place as he took in his nephew’s unsteady hand, the tight lines around his eyes. The way he held himself like one wrong move would shatter him apart.

He watched in silent horror as a cough wracked Lan Zhan’s body. As his nephew coughed something up into his hand, closing it too fast for Lan Qiren to see what it was, and then carefully dab any drops of blood with a red-stained handkerchief.

Lan Qiren didn’t need to see any more to know this curse— the Hanahaki Disease was a vicious, low-minded curse that killed with horrific slowness, drawing out the person’s pain and anguish. His own brother had died from it; there was no one more capable of recognizing the signs than Lan Qiren.

He backed away, heart pounding, throat tight, and went to find A-Huan.

Lan Huan took the news as expected; an ink pot splashed over when he shot to his feet, spilling a pool of darkness over the scattered white papers on his desk. His face was pale, mouth drawn tight, and he looked at Lan Qiren with eyes that begged for answers.

He had none to give. But he would not let his nephew succumb to such a fate, so he gestured for Lan Huan to follow him and returned to the library.

Lan Zhan had not moved. He looked up when they entered and greeted them appropriately, setting aside this brush to blink at them both expectantly.

“A-Zhan,” Lan Huan said, dismayed. He knelt beside his brother with tears in his eyes. Lan Qiren watched Lan Zhan stiffen in realization. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I am fine.” Lan Zhan would not meet either of their eyes. His breathing was shallow, his mouth stained red.

“You are not,” Lan Qiren said harshly. Lan Zhan stared intently at the desk and did not respond. “You are dying, and I will not allow it.” As though he had any say in it.

One should not speak with arrogance. One should not speak harshly to others. Lan Qiren cared little for the rules he was breaking-- and those he was sure to break in the future, it it meant saving his nephew.

“Who is it, Lan Zhan?” Lan Huan asked, carefully holding one of Lan Zhan’s hands between his own.

“Irrelevant,” Lan Zhan bit out. “He does not feel the same.”

He would damn well change his mind, or he’d find himself at the business end of Lan Qiren’s sword, he thought furiously.

“Have you asked him?” Lan Huan asked gently. “How do you know for sure?”

Lan Zhan was silent. It gave Lan Qiren an ember of hope, that his nephew hadn’t received any confirmation that he would die painfully from the curse of unrequited love.

“Who is it?” Lan Qiren asked.

Lan Zhan refused to answer, but Lan Huan gave his brother a knowing look.

“Lan Huan? Do you know who it is?” Lan Qiren stared intently at his nephews.

“Lan Zhan,” Lan Huan said softly. Prompting.

Lan Zhan did not answer… but his eyes flicked to the open window when raucous laughter burst through it as Lan Qiren’s resident headache sprinted past with the furious Jiang boy hot on his heels. Lan Zhan lowered his eyes quickly, but they’d both noticed his diverted attention.

Oh no. Oh no.

Lan Qiren sat down before he fell over from sheer horrified despair. Lan Huan bit the inside of his cheeks in a clear attempt to stave off a laugh; Lan Qiren was so thoroughly gripped by dread he didn’t even bother scolding him.

Lan Qiren dropped his head into his hands. “It’s Wei Wuxian, isn’t it?” He asked in a defeated tone. Lan Zhan set his jaw, looking especially mulish, but his silence was answer enough.

“I believe you are correct, Uncle,” Lan Huan said. He patted his brother’s hand, cheerfully unbothered when Lan Zhan snatched his hand back and ducked his head to hide his cherry-red ears.

“Lan Zhan, I raised you better than this,” Lan Qiren said, dismayed. “How did this happen? How could you have fallen in love with that utterly untamed boy?”

Lan Zhan frowned. “Wei Ying is an honorable, smart, and strong cultivator. He would be a worthy match for anyone.”

There was an ominous crash somewhere outside, followed by a loud whoop and more running feet. Lan Qiren stared at Lan Zhan incredulously. Lan Zhan stared unblinking back at him like he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Don’t forget lively,” Lan Huan added helpfully after a long moment of silence inside the library. Outside the library there were more sounds of imminent chaos, undoubtedly caused by the reprobate his nephew was apparently in love with.

Well. He was already having a bad day.

“Fine. If accepting Wei Wuxian into our sect means saving your life, I will… welcome him as family,” he choked out. Lan Huan looked between them with a wide smile like he was proud of them. Lan Qiren didn’t even have the energy to frown disapprovingly at him.

“Wei Ying does not feel the same,” Lan Zhan insisted. “I will go into seclusion—“

Lan Qiren slammed a hand on the table, cutting him short. “Absolutely not.” This argument he would not lose; his nephew would not walk the same dark path as his father.

“Lan Zhan,” Lan Huan said. “Why don’t you try talking to him?”

Lan Zhan looked mortified at the very thought. Heavens above, it was looking more and more as though Lan Qiren would have to do all the work here. What heinous act had he committed in a past life to deserve this?

Any doubts or misgivings he had evaporated the moment Lan Zhan began coughing again, struggling to breathe past the petals forcing their way out of his lungs. Lan Huan rested a hand on his back and fed him spiritual energy, visibly concerned as blood splattered over the desk with a few shredded flower petals.

His nephew only looked frustrated at the ruined papers now decorated with splashes of red. He crumpled the petals in his hand and shoved them out of sight before turning his focus back to his work, ignoring them both when they stood and moved to the door to discuss the situation.

“How should we proceed?” Lan Huan asked, casting a worried glance back at Lan Zhan. “We can’t force anyone to love against their will.”

“He is already infatuated with Lan Zhan,” Lan Qiren griped. “Hardly a giant step to love, though we might have to shove the realization down his throat before he gets a clue.”

“What do you suggest? Finding a way for them to spend time together?”

“That should be easy enough,” Lan Qiren said dryly, reaching abruptly out the door and snatching Wei Wuxian by the collar as he dashed by, yanking him to a stop. Wei Wuxian looked between them with wide, guilty eyes.

“Ah ha,” he laughed nervously. “Hi, Master Lan, Zewu-Jun. I didn’t realize you were…”

“Close enough to hear you crashing through Cloud Recesses like a herd of elephants?” Lan Qiren scowled at him. “Go sit with Wangji. You can copy the rules on decorum and respect ten times over.”

Lan Zhan looked up sharply and stared at him, looking deeply betrayed.

“Ten times?!” Wei Wuxian squawked. “But that will take me weeks!”

Exactly, Lan Qiren thought with reluctant satisfaction. “You should have thought about that before being such a nuisance. Now go.”

He and Lan Huan watched as Wei Wuxian stumbled across the room, throwing himself down across from Lan Zhan to complain about unfair punishments.

“There. That should do it..” Lan Qiren watched Lan Zhan bat Wei Ying’s hands away from his meticulous work and hiss, “Behave.”

“I will start investigating who might have cursed Lan Zhan in the first place,” Lan Huan suggested, smiling indulgently as a playful Wei Ying and incensed Lan Zhan had a brief tug-of-war over Lan Zhan’s papers.

Lan Qiren pressed two fingers to his forehead in a vain attempt to stave off a migraine. “And I will find more reasons for those two to spend time together,” he said, resigned. “Heavens help us both.”

“Heavens help the person who cursed Lan Zhan,” Lan Huan corrected, a hard light in his eyes as he left the library. Lan Qiren watched him go, proud of the man he’d become.

He was proud of the other one, too, just appalled at his taste in significant others.

There was nothing he could do now but accept it, he thought grimly, and set off to plan a matchmaking scheme to save his nephew.

#prompts #asks #anon #wangxian #the untamed #mdzs #lan qiren #lan wangji #lan xichen #wei wuxian #hanahaki disease #my fics #my writing #good uncle lan qiren

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angelaiswriting · 4 years

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I Love You | Fuze x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Fuze x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: The five times he thought he loved her, and the one time he told her. (Inspired by the lovely @kind-wolf, who also provided prompts since I lack in the fluff department lol)

✏️ A/N: I’m rusty af but there you go, someone please bring back the X times they thought they loved their person and the time they told them trope, thank you very much. Alice, I hope your day will be better than yesterday, thank you for all the help 💛 @sazafraz I hope you’ll enjoy this as well :’)

✏️ Warnings: just what I hope is fluff (+ it’s almost midnight, I proofread this as best as I could, forgive any mistake pls)

✏️ Word-count: 4,887

ONE

The first time he thought he could love her was when everything else felt cold and distant.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she picked up the call right before the third ring, he’d have one more reason to sulk about the past shitty forty-eight hours. First, a mission almost gone wrong and that has left him battered and sore. In pain would probably be the best term, but Shuhrat doesn’t like to complain too much. Then, a fight with a couple of operators he doesn’t know that well but that he has by now labeled as dickheads, thus turning them into people he won’t be looking forward to hanging out with—not now, and surely not even any time soon. Then, problems with his flight, which have led to him landing in Moscow five hours later than anticipated.

And if that isn’t enough, he’s almost considering turning on his heels and hopping down the five flights of stairs that separate him from the chaos of the city out there. He has his duffel bag in one hand and an umbrella that decided to break at the wrong damn moment in the other. And truly, he doesn’t know why he’s still holding onto it but some part of him buried deep inside his brain makes him believe that everything’s going to shatter if he lets it drop.

But he’s ringing the doorbell for the third time now and he thinks that fuck it, maybe I should really just leave. And if it weren’t for the fact that the anniversary of his brother’s disappearance is coming up, he would crash at his parents’ place; he’s missed them, after all. However, right as he’s about to truly turn around and start his descent, there’s commotion coming from inside. Barking. Someone groaning. And then the sound of a dog whining and grumbling at an order it doesn’t want to take.

“Hey!” She’s panting, trying to hold back a white and brown dog by its collar. “Sorry, this big baby just came back covered in mud from his walk and I was giving him a bath.”

“It’s…” Shuhrat eyes the big hound dog and for a moment, he wonders how on earth she’s managing to keep him from jumping through the threshold. “No problem.” The smile he gives her is just half there, and he’s painfully aware of it. If it were another time in his life, probably twenty years or so ago, he’d let the tears run freely down his cheeks, but he knows how to keep himself in check now. “Sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t find a taxi, so I had to take a bus.”

But she’s grinning, and the happiness so clear on her face makes her eyes squint. “God, I’m so happy you’re here, Shuhrat! It’s been forever! Come in, you’re soaking my doormat,” she adds with a chuckle.

Walking into her apartment proves to be quite the feat, with the dog—Buran, she says with great pride in her voice—barely moving from the spot he seems to have rooted himself in right in the entrance. He doesn’t move; he simply stands there, with Y/N trying to drag him at least a step to the side, and stares at him, muzzle wrinkled in preparation to snarl, but the aggression never comes. After a long moment of contemplation, Buran takes a step forward, boops his thigh with his nose, and then turns back toward his owner.

“He’s a big boy,” she says when she lets go of the dog’s collar, “but he’s never hurt anybody. Sometimes I think it’s all for show.”

“Is he…”

She nods, and the discussion ends there. He doesn’t ask how she’s been holding up after her grandparents’ death, and she doesn’t tell. What she does, though, is wait silently as he takes his boots off, the only sound that of Buran drinking water in the background.

When he looks up, she’s staring at him and there’s the shadow of a frown on her face, her head slightly tilted to the side as she studies him. He almost feels like a specimen in a laboratory, and there’s this knot slowly forming in the back of his throat that just… chokes him, in a way. He has nothing to complain about, but the stitches on his left thigh sting like a bitch, and he’s exhausted, and all he wants is to sleep curled up under heavy blankets for at least a month.

She doesn’t inquire, though. She doesn’t ask him possibly uncomfortable questions: they’ve known each other for far too long that they now know when it’s time for questions and when it’s not. All she does is offer him a smile—one of those half smiles of hers that always used to make him wonder how much, exactly, she knows.

“You look like you could use a hug.” She doesn’t step forward as she says that, and he doesn’t either, but her eyes never leave his.

“My clothes are wet.”

“And your point is…”

When she does hug him, it’s like being trapped in one of those moments where the body moves faster than the brain, and he finds himself wrapping his arms around her before he even has the time to utter a word. She’s warm and solid, in a way, and it’s almost like he’s being given permission to just let go for once and forget about anything that’s not part of the here and now.

It’s then that the thought pops up unsolicited in his mind. They’ve been growing closer again, and it’s like the time they spent growing apart when he was engaged didn’t even exist in the first place. Her texts are what he wakes up with a smile on his lips for, even though Sanya pokes fun at him at times, and he often finds himself subconsciously longing for her calls.

He’s hugging her, his forehead pressed into the crook of her neck as he soaks her clothes, and he thinks that fuck, if he could open up enough to fall in love again, why not with her?

TWO

The second time he thought he could be in love with her was on Skype.

“Is that my sweatshirt?” The urge to grin is tugging at the corners of his lips and he does his best to suppress it, truly, but it’s a hard task when at some point Buran jumps up on her bed and all Shuhrat sees is his wet nose and hairy snout.

“C’mon, baby, sit back,” he hears her groan as she drags the dog back from her laptop and against her pillows. “Jesus, I hadn’t expected for this bear to fall in love with you so fast.” These words are followed by a jokingly eye-roll and a cheater whispered right against Buran’s ear. “But yes, Agent Eagle Eye, it’s your sweatshirt.”

“The last time you wore my things, we were still in school.” He misses those days—kinda. He’s glad he doesn’t have to put up with teachers and classmates anymore, doesn’t miss tests or having to study, but there’s still nostalgia laced with those memories and for a moment, it tastes bittersweet, until she answers back with one of her jokes.

They talk about everything and nothing at once for a long while, spend long minutes catching up over what happened in the past three weeks, after he’s finally gone back to Hereford after the month he’s somehow managed to spend in Moscow. Bunkered up for most of the time in her apartment with her dog is more like it, but these are details he has no problem overlooking.

Timur is nice and although he never says an ill or sarcastic word about how Shuhrat’s leave has gone, there has always been a smile on his lips that wasn’t there before that godforsaken mission. Sometimes Shuhrat thinks his friend knows something he doesn’t—like right now, as he gets dressed in a nice suit to go out on a date—, at least not yet, but he also doesn’t want to ask questions whose answers he might not want to hear, so he always keeps his suspicions to himself.

He does sigh, though, when Tima pokes his head from behind him and smiles at the girl on the screen. This man’s always blabbing about you—or something like that; Shuhrat is too busy worrying about his burning ears and how they’d better not be blushing to actually pay attention to the quick exchange between his two friends.

There’s silence after that. Timur leaves the dorm room after Maxim popped his head in, and it’s just Y/N and him once again. They stare at each other and she’s smiling and he’s trying to force his brain to think because fuck, he’s okay with long silences, really, but not with her. It’s Buran’s soft bark that encourages the conversation to flow again, and she asks if he’s received the package she’s sent.

He has, and when he recovers it from under his bed, where he’s been storing it in wait for one of their video calls, she prompts him to open it. His chuckle makes her chuckle because damn, sometimes she just goes to sweet lengths for him and he never knows what he’s done to deserve such a friend.

“I hope you still love korovki,” she giggles and when he picks up a handful of korovka candies, that giggle turns into a soft laughter that seems to ring even through the speakers of his old laptop.

“You even remembered about slivy v shokolade…” The smile is more in his eyes than it is on his lips, and he knows it, he feels it somehow. It’s a nice feeling and it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, and for the first time ever he wishes he could push himself into his screen and out of hers just to give her a hug. “Why?” he wonders out loud and before she breaks out into a huge smile, he has a brief couple of seconds to scold himself for asking that question. Even though he has no reason to, really.

“You were feeling down,” she explains, “and you also sounded a bit pissed. I thought candy would make you feel a bit better again, since I clearly can’t ship this ball of fur all the way there.” She ruffles Buran’s head as she says so and the dog licks her face before settling down and laying his heavy head on her belly. “He sends something as well, in case you feel lonely, since you basically became snuggle buddies.”

He chuckles, both at her words and at all the time Buran has spent on his lap in the time he’s spent crashing at Y/N’s place. “Not my fault I give nice cuddles,” he shrugs as he digs through candies and chocolates.

There’s a rabbit plushie in there and while it’s been washed, it’s clear who its previous owner is. An ear is slightly off, a little more down the head compared to the other, and it’s proof that Buran played with it a bit too roughly one day and tore it off. The ribbon around the rabbit’s neck is new, though, a vibrant sunflower yellow color that matches almost to perfection that of the dog’s collar.

“I thought this was his favorite,” he muses, holding it up so that both she and Buran can see it.

The dog woofs once before he snuggles his human and a paw accidentally moves the laptop enough to turn it to the side and pick up his wagging tail. A moment later, though, Y/N is back into the frame.

“I told him to pick a toy to send to you, and he chose that. Don’t question his choices, Kessikbayev. My baby knows what he’s doing.”

“Alright, alright!” But they’re both smiling, and it truly does feel like being kids all over again, when they played with his brother and her sisters in the park.

“There should be something else on the bottom,” she says after a while, more seriousness in her voice, and she sits up a little straighter to lean against her pillows. “I know it’s probably silly, but I remember when our parents took us to Kazan when we were eight and we said we would be friends forever. We both lost our bracelets swimming two years later, but…”

Her words fade as he opens the rectangular plastic box he missed just minutes before. There, stretched out open, lies a white bracelet with a single aquamarine bead. It is exactly like the one they had gifted each other a lifetime ago and even though almost twenty-five years have passed, it still feels like yesterday. The blue sky, the birds chirping, and the condensation of their breaths mingling in the air as all they could think about was the fritters they were going to buy soon with the rest of their money.

“Burya and I went back to visit one of my aunts, and when I saw it in the shop window, I thought, why not?”

He doesn’t tell her he won’t be able to wear it, not for the majority of his time at least, but he still has days off, and he still appreciates her lovely gesture. He appreciates it more than he can tell and when he looks up from the bracelet to thank her, all he can think about is how light he feels when he’s with her. Even through Skype.

THREE

The third time he thought that maybe he was truly developing romantic feelings for her was when she came to visit.

It’s the week before his birthday, the only one she’s managed to take off from her work at the vet clinic, but he swears he already feels like the birthday boy on his special day.

He’s rented a room for her in the bed and breakfast closest to the base, but they both know he’ll end up spending more time there than he will in his own dorm. The guys will probably start asking questions, but he knows Timur has his back and that he’ll come up with something—like he’s always done in the weeks that have followed his Muscovite leave. For once, though, he doesn’t mind the questions: he would still prefer not to answer them, for he’s not sure he’d have answers to give anyway, but somehow he doesn’t mind the idea of people he’s (kind of) close to wondering about what’s going on between him and a woman.

Which he… doesn’t know, but he guesses that he’s ready to find out.

That’s what he thinks about as he lies in bed next to her. His thumb is slowly brushing along the two-word tattoo on the side of her ribcage, below her breast, but he can’t exactly focus his mind and actually read it, for he’s too busy wondering how they ended up in that situation in the first place.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispers after a while, gaze focused on the wooden beams of the ceiling visible in the warm light of the dimmed bathroom lights they left on before they even had the chance to towel themselves dry.

His answer is preceded by a low hum that seems to reverberate right in his chest. His lips press a light kiss to the side of her boob before he props himself up on an elbow to look down at her. He smiles and then, with a tingling sensation still in his lips, he whispers back, You.

Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and right as she lets out a soft sigh, her thumb wipes across his cheekbone once. “What are we doing?” she asks, her eyes never leaving his as she does her best to even out her breathing. She will be sore in the morning, but Shuhrat doesn’t know yet.

He shrugs his shoulders once and for a moment, he almost regrets staying over. He should have gone back to the base; he should have accompanied her back to the bed and breakfast, of course, and then gone back to the base. Stayed up with the guys for a few drinks, watched football on the huge flatscreen in one of the common areas, and then slept in his bed.

“I think we…” Her tongue briefly comes out to wet her lower lip and he finds himself unable to look away. “We could do it again.” The tone of her voice is hesitating and it falters toward the end of the sentence, somehow making it sound more like a question than an affirmation.

Shuhrat smirks and when she tentatively pulls him down to kiss him, her lips press against the scar above his lip for a moment. “Now?” he asks, voice raspy but eyes twinkling as one of his hands trails down her side and over her hip.

“No!” Her laugh is weak and breathy, and she closes her eyes for a second before she shakes her head. “I want to be able to go on that hike with you and your friends in the morning. But when we’re back… Who knows?”

He’s leaning against the frame of the bathroom door five minutes later, dressed only in his birthday suit and arms crossed against his chest. He’s watching her brush her teeth and absentmindedly listening to her recount something Burya did the day before she left him at one of her sisters’ place, but his eyes keep on getting trained back to the tattoo on her ribcage.

Two words. An exclamation mark.

The smile that tugs at his lips is hard to contain and even to conceal, and its reflection in the mirror is what makes her turn her head in his direction as a confused expression settles on her features.

“I used to always say that.”

She spits mouthwash in the sink before asking back, “What?”

“So mnoj!” he smiles. “With me! Growing up.”

It takes her a moment before realization dawns on her and her eyes trail down her body in the mirror. “Yeah, I know, that’s why it’s there,” she smiles.

FOUR

The fourth time he thought he was starting to fall in love with her was at a paintball game.

The early spring air is still chilly when they decide to play paintball on the ground of Timur’s dacha. It’s a way to pass time—and to give Timur and his girl a few hours alone. Glazkov doesn’t say it—he never does, truly, he doesn’t complain—but his broken leg is bothering him a little and he needs to look after it a bit more instead of hiding his discomfort behind a finger when his friends are with him.

If anything, Y/N has been a great addition to the group—and Buran has managed to bring a smile on everyone’s face countless times with his playful antics and his oh-so-sweet nature around his human. But even though he would love to participate in the game, Y/N has ordered him to stay back on the porch in fear that he—or anyone else, for that matter—might get hurt somehow.

She’s teamed up with Alexsandr and despite the fact that they have already lost three games, they’ve still decided to go for the same tactic one more time. They’re hiding behind a different set of bushes, sure, but he and Maxim can hear them giggle at some pun one of the two must have said, and a victory has never been easier.

They stand still for a while, listening to their hilarity, but before they have the time to take a step forward, Buran dashes across the grounds of the dacha and flushes them out. There’s a rapid sequence of Burya! and Party pooper! and I can’t breathe! that makes both Shuhrat and Maxim laugh out loud, paintball guns still in hand and pointed toward the bushes.

Tachanka is the first to get out of his hiding spot. He crawls across the cold and hard ground trying his best to keep breathing through his laughter as Burya playfully shakes his leg in his usual way to play fight. “Soldier, you’re giving out our position!”

“You should know how to play this game better than this, Sanya,” Maxim exclaims and the second after their friend has managed to stand back up on his feet, he shoots a green paintball right in the middle of his chest. “Dead.”

When Burya runs up to him, Shuhrat can’t help the happy laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “Good boy,” he coos, glove-clad hand petting his head. “Now go drag your mama out.”

He stops for a moment as the dog runs back behind the bush and in that brief minute, he realizes for the first time that he has never felt like this, at least not in a long while—like he has finally opened up, even if only to those close to him.

But then Y/N’s pleas of surrender take him back to the present moment and he smiles because damn, he thinks this is thanks to her as well. Her and this happy dog he’s grown so attached to.

“I promise I won’t shoot, Solnyshko!” and even though Max is chuckling under his breath in a way that would lead to thinking the opposite, he still lowers his gun and takes a step back.

Back at the dacha, as Timur’s girlfriend places all kinds of sweets on the table to pair with their tea, Shuhrat takes Y/N to the side for a moment and sits on the porch with Burya staring at them from the porch swing. It’s just the two of them, like after a whole day spent playing and all the other kids went home, but just… a bit quieter, with the first stars starting to twinkle in the approaching darkness of the evening.

“I’m so bad at paintball,” is the chuckle that distracts him from the never-ending horizon. “But Sanya surely wasn’t helping!”

“That’s no excuse, love.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders—earning a low warning whine from her dog—and pulls her closer into his side. “You’re both bad, that’s just the truth.”

The playful slap he earns to his knee is weak and light. “I should have teamed up with Maxim. I think we would have beaten your sorry ass, then.”

She grins up at him and he smiles down at her and for a moment all he can think is Fuck it! before he tilts his head and kisses her.

FIVE

The fifth time he thought he was in love with her, without a doubt this time, she had kids tackling her to the ground.

Tanya’s fifth birthday party is going strong and after the mermaid-themed cake and an endless hour spent opening presents of every kind imaginable, all the kids have gone back to playing. It is a tag game this time and as Burya plays with them, running around the garden and barking happily every once in a while, Shuhrat and Y/N watch the scene with the biggest grins on their faces.

She’s sitting sideways on his lap and he’s probably holding her closer than he ever has. It’s been a while since they stopped wondering what it was and just… embraced it. It’s nothing official, everything’s still off the record, but he has clothes at her place and a mug in a cabinet in her kitchen and when he’s over, the leather armchair in the living room becomes his and Buran’s favorite spot to snuggle and relax.

“I didn’t think your family could get any bigger,” he confesses when she pecks his freshly-shaven cheek.

“I have five sisters,” she giggles, snuggling closer and resting her head on his shoulder. “If we fly low and go for an average of three kids each, I will end up with fifteen nephews! But as you see,” and she points at her sister Marina and the baby bump she’s sporting, “we’re not flying low at all.”

He laughs at that and hugs her closer with one arm as he brings his beer bottle to his lips with the other. “Have you ever thought of…” He shrugs. “Adding some of your own to the bunch?”

She looks at him lost in thought for a while, taking the beer from his hand to steal a sip, before she eventually shrugs her shoulders in return. “I don’t know, I haven’t considered it yet. I’m happy with just Burya and you so far. He’s like a baby to me, he’s just not in human form.”

He doesn’t have time to say anything. Little Kolya drags her away by her right hand, and Masha follows suit and grabs her other hand.

Shuhrat watches with a smile on his face as she goes back to being the babysitting auntie and just as seven children gang up on her and drag her to the floor, Anastasia sits next to him and sends him a knowing smile.

“I’ve never seen her happier than when she’s with you.” Her confession somehow catches him unprepared and although there’s nothing wrong in the words leaving Y/N’s eldest sister’s lips, he still feels the urge to tear his eyes from her. “And I know I haven’t seen you in forever, but I remember you being at your lowest and I’m glad you’ve both pushed each other back to the surface.”

SIX

Then, there finally came the time he told her.

All Shuhrat can do is look at her, simply stare at her dance in the pouring rain that has caught them by surprise after a whole afternoon spent playing with their dog on the beach. He knows the quick and sudden summer downpour isn’t bound to last long, but the intensity of the rain and the deep gray of the sky almost make him think otherwise.

Their Ukrainian vacation on the Black Sea has felt like a dream so far, the best leave he’s had in forever, probably. Nothing has managed to disrupt his peace in the past week and if anything, he’s spent these days getting closer to his girl and Burya. Whether in the apartment they have rented or out exploring, nothing has ever felt so much like home, not even in a foreign country, than it feels like with her.

She’s twirling and laughing now, though, face turned up toward a steely sky and arms open wide, almost as though she could somehow take flight. The ringing of her laughter is drowned out by the raging pitter-pattering of the downpour that is soaking him to the bone, but he swears he can still hear it. Buran is barking by his side, unable to stay still or to stop his tail from wagging wildly against his shin, and there’s something so indescribable in the scene he’s witnessing that his heart feels like it’s being held in a grip.

It is one of those moments when the time feels like it finally stops, if so for just a moment, and something clicks. There’s this one piece that finally finds its place and a light turns on, and everything is clearer than it’s ever been. Not that it hasn’t been before—because it has, even with him not being able to fully admit it to himself—it’s just that it feels… actually real, this time. Like that’s the truth and there’s no hiding it anymore, not when it’s clearly brighter than the sun.

The realization seeps into his limbs like the rain that’s soaking his clothes and he just… smiles. It’s only one side of his lips at first, a smirk that tries to conceal the smile he can’t contain—in vain.

When she stops right in front of him, still giggling like a child, her breathing is all over the place. Fast and almost messy, and she is panting, desperately trying to catch her breath as she shakes her head a couple of times, trying to make the world stand still once again. She has hair sticking to her face and he can see her black bikini through the soaked-through fabric of her summer dress.

He somehow thinks back to the day he rang her doorbell three times. And to the hug she gave him that day, the one that almost cracked his tough exterior right open, and he realizes that he doesn’t really mind feeling like that with her. That he doesn’t really mind being vulnerable in her presence, and that he enjoys feeling like he belongs with her.

It is then that he says it out loud, and it feels good and almost warm inside as he stands there, teeth clattering from the cold. But the rain is too loud, and when she screams over its sound and over that of the howling wind that picks up suddenly, he finds himself kicking aside all the fears he has at the idea of opening up completely.

“I love you!” He screams it in the rain, with the wind slapping water in his face, and it feels better than it ever has in the past. And he’s blinded by the raindrops but even despite that, he sees her face light up in one of those bright smiles she’s never able to contain.

“I know!” she yells back before spreading her arms again. “That’s why I’m happy: because I love you, too!”

I’m a hoe for feedback in case you wanna leave any 💛

Original picture: https://www.pexels.com/photo/bunch-of-petals-on-white-surface-4041274/

#angelaiswriting #rainbow six #rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege fanfic #fuze r6 #fuze r6s #fuze fanfic #shuhrat kessikbayev #shuhrat kessikbayev fanfic #shuhrat kessikbayev x reader

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beyond-the-mirror · 4 years

Text

The Blue Eyed King’s Gift

Oof! After an eternity incredibly long time I’m finally back to writing! This one will be a three part fic to accompany the Fairy Tale AU one I wrote with Dante x Fem!Reader.

Can you guess which tale I got inspiration for this fic? I won’t include it in the tags for now, but as the story progresses you will start to get the idea of which tale it is.

Warnings: Slight violence against children. Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious.

Story under the cut.

IMPORTANT EDIT: I decided to make this a four-part fic rather than a three-part, mostly because I realized that the second part may be a little too long to be included in just one chapter.

Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

.............................

Part One

"(Y/N)!! Where the fuck is my breakfast?!!"

Your father yelled from his bed chambers in such a loud volume you swore the entire house trembled in fear at his wrath. Letting out a defeated sigh, you hurried up placing all the served plates and the warm teapot on the tray before heading upstairs.

Life hadn't been easy at all for you, especially these recent years. Ever since you had memory, your father has been a cruel man to both you and your poor mother, the only reason she had ended up marrying him was because of an arrangement both their families had agreed upon. He was the sole heir of his family's fortune, but needed to marry a woman in order to keep their status unblemished. Eventually your grandparents passed away and your parents received the inheritance, the only problem they didn't take into account was their son's unmeasurable greed and hedonism. Soon enough, your father had wasted pretty much all your fortune in alcohol, unsuccessful business deals and gambling, reducing all your family's possessions to merely a modest but still pretty chateau in the countryside and a few valuables.

You still cried at the memory of your mother wilting away on her bed due to a most terrible illness, the medicines she needed to recover were far too expensive, not that the price mattered much since your father wouldn’t even bother to pay for them anyways had they been any cheaper. Alcohol and gambling were far more important for the man than his dying wife.

"Finally! I swear you're doing this on purpose." Your father scowled from his bed as you placed the food tray on his bedside table. "Do you wish for your own father to starve to death? Talk about an ungrateful child. Get out of my sight already!"

You only resigned to silently nod before leaving, the harsh words from your father never failed to hurt you deeply, cutting down your heart so much you weren't able to mutter a single word to him.

A few tears threatened to escape, but you forced them down. A new day full of possibilities was right before you, so you wasted no time in collecting some of the many fruits and vegetables you grew by yourself in your own garden. This year had brought an exceptional harvest, your crops would certainly make a great profit at the town's market.

Unlike your father, the townspeople respected you and treated you with utmost kindness. Often would they offer their help knowing your situation, something that you would forever be grateful for. You promised to yourself that one day, shall your economy ever recover that is, you would repay them to the last penny for their unwavering support.

After another successful day at the town market you decided to return home, all your produce sold out and now replaced by a small satchel of silver coins, some of them spent in meat, spices and bread for cooking meals at home.

It was a simple life, but you were happy with what little you had. Now if only your father weren't so cruel and abusive...

.............................

"C'mon V! Let's explore over here!"

You were in the kitchen when a soft giddy voice in the distance caught your attention.

"Wait Nero! I don't think it's a good idea to stray further. What if Father becomes worried?" A second voice answered back.

Peering out the window, you noticed two little children playing not too far from your chateau's front yard. Both had pristine white hair, one of them seemed to carry a black kitten in his arms while a blue bird was perched on his shoulder. It was a rather endearing sight and an odd one too since they weren't familiar to you at all, not many people lived in the countryside area you resided in. Perhaps a family recently moved nearby without you noticing.

"Don't worry V, after all he sent Griffon and Shadow here to look after us. Look brother," One of them pointed at your residence with the small wooden sword in his hands. "I found a tiny castle!"

"Whoa, what a lovely house! Do you think a tiny princess lives there too?" The other brother pointed out. You couldn't help but giggle at their adorable antics as they approached your yard.

Reaching for some of the pastries you had bought earlier, you decided to grab a few to give to the brothers. You were about to reach for the back door when-

"GET OUT OF MY PROPERTY YOU BRATS!!"

As soon as you stepped out, you witnessed your father in a very drunken state harassing the poor children. "I SAID GET LOST NOW!!!"

You watched in absolute horror how he harshly grabbed one of the kids by his arm before throwing him to the ground, prompting his brother to wield his toy sword in an attempt to defend him, but ultimately failing as he was backhanded so roughly he too fell to the ground.

"NO! FATHER STOP!" You immediately sprinted to them, basically throwing yourself over harm's way as you shielded the children, pulling them away from your father's relentless attacks. Even the black cat and the blue bird that accompanied the kids had started attacking him, effectively helping you keeping the man at bay as you hugged the kids protectively.

"Damn animals, GET AWAY FROM ME!" The man struggled and flailed against the bird and the cat, missing every strike as he was too drunk and unfocused for their agility.

"Please father, you're completely inebriated and you will only hurt yourself and others. Just go back to the house, please?" You implored doing, your best to calm him down until he finally relented.

"Fine. Food better be ready soon though or you're sleeping outside tonight." His words came out slurred as he stumbled back inside.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you turned to the young twins in your arms, kneeling down before them to check for any wounds they may have gotten. The poor little ones were crying, a few bruises and cuts on their knees and faces.

"It's okay little ones, the bad man is already gone." Gently wiping their tears away, you comforted them until they calmed down. "Are you alright?"

"I-I think so... How about you V?"

"I... I’m fine. That man was so scary though."

A sigh of relief escaped you as you determined all the wounds were minor and merely superficial, nothing you couldn’t handle quickly.

"I'm truly sorry for what happened. Please come inside, let's get your wounds treated."

.............................

“Much better now, isn’t it?”

It didn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and disinfecting the boys’ wounds. Luckily yout homemade medicinal balm was already working wonders, their skin already healing considerably.

“Here! A gift for being the bravest boys in the world.” You handed each one the pastries from before. The brothers’ eyes began sparkling at the sweet treats before them, they didn’t hesitate for a second before grabbing them and taking a bite.

“Thank you so much lady (Y/N)! These are so delicious!” they happily ate their pastries, even sharing a bit for their company animals too.

“I’m glad you like them. And you don’t need to call me lady by the way, just (Y/N) is fine. May I know your names too?”

“I’m Nero!” The twin with short hair and blue eyes answered.

“My name is Vitale, or V if you prefer.” The twin with shoulder-length hair and green eyes replied. “Oh! And these are our friends Griffon and Shadow!” V hugged Shadow close to his chest while Griffon perched himself on Nero’s shoulder.

“A pleasure meeting you four! Does your family live nearby by the way?”

Nero nodded as he kept chewing on his pastry. “Our house is just north from here actually, but Papa doesn’t let us go out often.”

Oh?

“And why is that?”

“Well...” V started, looking a bit down. “Father is very protective of us, that’s why he only lets us play outside as long as we stay close to the house. But today we tried convincing him to let us go explore a little bit farther, it was difficult but he finally agreed as long as we promised we would be alright...”

“I really hope he doesn’t get mad at us after he finds out what happened.” Nero added worryingly. Their saddened eyes really plucked at your heartstrings.

You knelt down so you could look at them in the eyes. “Don’t worry my children. How about I write a note to your father explaining the situation? I’m not sure if this would help much, but at least he would know he has my word that no harm will come to you. And if that doesn’t work, I could always go and meet him personally to get to an agreement.”

“You would really do that for us?” They looked at you expectantly, and when you nodded your answer, their faces lit up in so much joy that they unexpectedly enveloped you in a hug. You chuckled before wrapping your arms around them, returning the hug.

.............................

Since the brothers wanted to continue playing, you allowed the children to stay for a few more hours while you finished cooking. You let them keep playing in your garden, a place where you knew your father wouldn’t spot them and risk another scene like the one before.

Politely excusing yourself to your little guests before leaving to deliver your father’s meal. Luckily this time he received his food without saying much of a word, a very welcomed improvement from this morning’s rant.

As you returned to your guests, you noticed they were looking at you in concern.

“(Y/N), is that man really... your father?

“Yes, he is. Why the question?”

The glanced at each other briefly before V continued “Why did he treat you like that? I thought fathers were supposed to love their daughters...”

To say the question took you a bit by surprise would have been a underestimation. You simply sat down at one of the wooden benches, not knowing exactly what to say.

The brothers sat down next to you, each one by your sides.

You fumbled with your words, tears already pricking your eyes before you managed to control them.

“I know he is not exactly a good man, he made many mistakes in the past that cost our family so much… But, despite everything, he is still my father. Maybe I’m wrong, but I want to think he still has a good heart deep inside. That’s why I can’t give up on him. I stay with him in hope that one day he would finally change for the better.”

You forced a smile so you wouldn’t make the children worry anymore about you, and yet they managed to see through your façade. Their little arms wrapped around your waist and hugged you, an attempt to give you some comfort for the pain you were going through daily.

A warmth unlike no other enveloped your entire self, maybe it was cuteness of the situation or the great empathy of this wonderful children felt for you, but it felt so soothing how peace seemed to overtake you at the moment.

It was strange, yet so familiar. Like a distant memory of better days gone by.

.............................

The sun was about to set in a few hours, so you decided it was time for the children to head back home before it became dark.

As you had promised the brothers, you wrote a note for their father apologizing for the incident that happened and gave it to Nero. You also packed a few slices of fruit in a pouch for them to snack on during their trip back home.

“Um (Y/N)... can we come to your house to play again some time?” V asked in a shy voice. Both he and Nero had so much fun playing and staying with you, for them it felt that they had genuinely met a new friend that day.

“Of course little ones. You can come here and play whenever you want, as long as your father agrees to.” You ruffled their pretty little heads, making the brothers giggle.

“We promise to visit as often as we can! Right V?”

The younger one nodded his head enthusiastically.

And so, Nero and V departed. It was odd, how the chateau felt a hundred times emptier without them despite just meeting them earlier.

They were both so sweet and innocent, you just hoped their father wouldn’t get angry after reading your short letter. It would be a shame if the boys got punished for something that wasn’t their fault.

Going back into the kitchen, you cleaned a bit before tending to the plants at your garden, wondering if your new friends would soon brighten your day again with their presence

.............................

At the throne of a majestic palace, an all-seeing orb conjured at his hand, a demon king watched over his two sons.

The day they were born, he vowed to The Creator above that he would always protect them, even if that meant giving up his own life, he would gladly pay the price if it guaranteed they would keep living theirs in peace.

His kingdom may not be a vast one, completely isolated from others, but the land was prosperous and peace reigned over everyone. The king knew his sons would grow safe and sound behind the powerful barrier that surrounded the kingdom, but he couldn’t help a small seed of doubt that gnawed at his chest.

He feared for the day curiosity would awake in the hearts of his twins. They would want to know everything about the outside world, their innocent minds not knowing how cruel and dangerous it could be. The king often taught them of the outside world through the many books and scripts in the royal library, but he was afraid that would not be enough for his children.

So when that morning they had insisted of going beyond the barrier, no matter how much he had prepared himself mentally for this moment, his heart still ached with worry.

But he wouldn’t take their freedom away. Doing so is one of the most horrifying acts one could bestow upon another.

So the king allowed them to venture beyond their home. He had to let them fly, not clip their beautiful wings.

However, as much as he wanted to trust his sons, his concerns were bigger. He tasked two servants to keep them company, knowing that their eyes would keep guard on them. Using his demonic power, he summoned an oracle that would let him watch over them from his throne.

He watched as they approached a small chateau outside the forest, they were happy and playing along the way which brought a smile to his usually stoic face.

That contentment was gone in an instant.

A drunk man stepped out of the house and attacked his sons, scaring them and making them cry.

The king immediately stood from his throne, his fists tightly clenched as his eyes filled with immeasurable wrath and ire. He was about to unsheath his own sword to open a portal and go there, ready to end the miserable man’s life, when another figure ran into the scene. A woman who shielded his sons from the attacking man.

And when he finally managed to look at her face, he froze, almost dropping the sword in his hand.

For she looked exactly like-

… No. It couldn’t be her.

And yet there was a tenderness in the way she treated them. The way her soft hands cleaned the boys’ tears and kindly healed their wounds. The way she offered them a few pastries with a sweet smile in her face and warm light in her eyes. It was rather endearing, how this woman gained his sons’ trust in just a few minutes.

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the king sat down at the throne once again, attentive to what the oracle revealed to his eyes.

Maybe the outside world wasn’t so dangerous after all.

#devil may cry #fairy tale au #Vergil Sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x you #reader insert #fanfiction

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secretsofthedarkestkind-arch · 3 years

Text

OTP/Romance Prompts: 1/? AKA Verse AU's @storieswrittcn

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

"Are you positive about that?" Lee asked almost in disbelief hearing the news her CI had just given her. The girl was never wrong when it came to tips for the detective; Lee paid too much money for her to ever risk being wrong. The confirmation had the brunette's feet slowing to a stop.

No harm list...global level...death to anyone who tried...Petrova crime family...

"Check your bank account in about an hour," Lee mutters lost in thought as she hangs up the phone still standing in one the hallways of NYPD. The SVU-- she'd been offered a spot in Organized Crime more than once but she always denied the transfer for personal reason's-- Detective's life had been chaos for the last month and a half. Ever since that day she'd decided to go into that bank before work.

The day had started like any other; oversleeping, rushing toward PD with traffic being horrible, calling Olivia Benson--her partner-- to tell her she'd be late, and desperately stopping for coffee to try and bring some form of sanity back to her (Really, Lee was sure her body held more caffeine than it did actual blood at this point). After paying for her coffee, Lee had realized she didn't have anymore cash on her, glancing across the street she'd found a branch of her bank. Why not grab some cash from the ATM? Her eldest brother Damon had drove it into her head growing up that it was always smart to have some cash on you. 'You never know when you're going to need it, when your card won't work or somewhere can only accept cash.'

So really what happened next was Damon's fault, it always was right?

As if to prove to Lee her day was not going to go smoothly, the ATM outside was out of order causing her to walk inside. She'd taken maybe less than twenty steps inside when the first gunshot had gone off and screams followed. Instinct had her ducking down for cover, one hand reaching for her cell phone while the other went to the gun holstered on her hip. Quickly, she'd sent out an SOS with her location to Olivia with three words attached; robbery inside gunpoint. Once that was taken care of, Lee glanced around the small counter to see just how many gunmen there were; five that she could see. She couldn't let anyone get hurt though, it wasn't in her nature.

Everything that happened next somewhat happened in a blur. The gunman had been getting everyone down, the leader at the main counter tossing bags to cashiers to fill with money, while another beside him tried to keep everyone calm; the usual of if everyone cooperates no one will get hurt, we just want the banks money not to hurt you. But the way his voice cracked told Lee that wasn't exactly true. So regardless of consequence she's stood up, badge in her hand.

Then her horrible day just got weird; the closest gunman had started to shake with fear, muttering a soft 'Oh Shit'. His eyes telling her that he almost seemed to recognize her. The next one's face paled as he looked at her and he stumbled a few steps back, signaling to get the other three's attention. Their reactions didn't fair much better. All five appeared to forget what they were doing, why they were here in the first place, and run out the door as if their pants had been on fire or Lee had been the Grimm Reaper himself. It didn't make sense--yes, she was a cop but that reaction, the way they almost recognized her? It didn't fit.

So after hours with Internal Affairs, questioning by Robbery and Organized Crime detectives---Lee had contacted her CI to try and get answers. It'd taken the girl a month to find them and another half a month to verify her information.

No harm list...global level...death to anyone who tried...Petrova crime family...

Petrova was a last name she hadn't heard since she was twenty-one, eight whole years ago. It was the reason she denied any transfer to Organized Crime. Katerina Petrova (as most of the world knew her Katherine Pierce) had been not just her childhood crush or high school sweetheart, but the love of her life; the one person she would truly love until the day she took her last breath. Lee's heart, soul, and body still belonged to the brunette all these years later. The detective blamed her lack of a love life on her work, but the true reason was she'd never wanted anyone but Katerina.

The two had grown up together, meeting in Kindergarten, and formed an unbreakable bonds. They'd been with each other through everything; Lee's horrible home life caused by her parents, Katerina's own home life complications being the daughter of mobsters, both never seemingly good enough or as good as their respective twins, their parent's deaths (Well, Lee's mother and both of Katerina's). By middle school they were a couple; possessive/territorial, protective, and madly in love. High school, they were each other's first everything. Katerina not hiding how her life was changing at the young age of sixteen; after her parent's death, she'd started the takeover of the Petrova Crime family while Elena got to play normal high schooler. When Katerina had dropped out, Lee had almost followed suit--planned to be right there at Katerina's side to help her no matter what it was or how dark her soul would become. But her girlfriend had stopped Lee from doing that, she wanted one of them to at least graduate and Lee to have a chance to go to the art school of her dreams.

Then Lee had graduated, plans of art school gone mainly because the Salvatore hadn't wanted to leave Katerina---by eighteen, she'd gained full control of her dead parents empire, caused it grow and was working on a plan of opening a business for cover; exotic dancing, with more than a few illegal activities inside. Lee hadn't batted an eye at the plan, her possessive and jealous nature that normally would have shown through didn't; all because she loved Katerina, trusted her, and knew the woman would never betray her--the small engagement ring on her finger proof of that.

But Lee had wanted to do something to help, anything to make her future wife's life easier. So she'd followed Stefan's example and applied for the academy, going in with the mindset to help those she could but also be as corrupt as needed to help Katerina. But then Katerina had switched up their plans, had made a choice of her own---she'd broken Lee's heart. There hadn't been a fight, hadn't been begging, Katerina hadn't given her that option. Katerina packed up her things and just left, gone before Lee had come home and nowhere to be found.

Lee had hunted, spent weeks out on the streets and going everywhere she could think the woman would have gone. She'd worked herself into a mess of a depression, anxiety, and malnutrition. What had stopped it was when Damon had committed her for her own safety. She'd spent half a year locked away to get herself back. And when she'd come out she'd never looked back. There was no hatred toward the woman she loves, no vendetta, or ill will. Lee had just moved on with the parts of her life she could.

------

Finding the address of one Katherine Pierce had been difficult, Lee had used every off the book resource she could (Lee may have kept the plan to be slightly corrupt in place) and it had taken almost all day to do so, but she'd done it. Lee had half the mind to stop by the woman's club, 'Katherine's' but the detective had ultimately decided that would be too public for this reunion and the topic they needed to discuss. So she'd waited. And really? Lee probably should have known the address she'd received would be where Katerina had bought. But it still surprised her. It was a large old plantation estate that the two had always dreamed of one day owning, their goal home for their future and however many children they could fill it with.

So she'd given Olivia the barest of explanations on where she was going, muttering something about needing to take the rest of the day off for personal reasons--same to Cragen the same line--and she's out the door.

Lee had parked her silver Jeep outside the closed gate and stepped out. Eyes taking in the property she hadn't driven by in almost a decade--she wonders briefly why Katerina had bought it, how she'd done it too. Sadly it seems she isn't going to be getting inside thought, unless she climbs the brick wall (which she's tempted to do). With a sigh she pulls her phone out to call her darkerweb tech guy, "Hey...I need you to get a cell phone number fo---" The words die on her lips though as she hears the engine of a rather luxurious Lamborghini as it pulls up toward the gates. "Nevermind." She's hanging up the phone as she turns to face the approaching car.

The Salvatore's nerves are high, hands slightly shaking but she's come this far, she won't let her nerves stop her now.

"Katerina," The Bulgarian accent rolling perfectly off her lips even after all these years, "We need to talk..."

#closed starter #storieswrittcn #v:tbd #tw murder #disordered eating tw #tw mental instability #tw mention of drugs #tw mention of violence #tw mental hospital #tw crime

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

Text

25 Days of Christmas 14

Pairing: Greer Atlas x Lancelot Kingsley

Prompt: “Are you suggesting we sneak out?”

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @christmaswarlock @sakura-1819 @starry-starry-night24 @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @thewitchofbooks @stardust-dreamer13 @ikemensengokufangirl @gay-noodle-clan @nad-zeta @canaria-blackwell @lordsister @hamster-damn

A/N: Greer and Lance are such a power couple. Honestly, I love them so much.

Holidays were for posturing among with Red elites. Old families trying to outdo each other grander and more extravagant parties. The guest list incredibly long and filled with those the host disliked. But they dawned their fake smiles and spoke empty pleasantries.

This marked the first year that Greer didn’t have be paraded around in hopes of finding a suitor. But being married to a Kingsley didn’t make it any easier. Old men discussed the newlyweds, making bets on how long it would last or trying to pick apart how it had come about in the first place. The young ladies whispered and stared, likely judging everything about her.

Lancelot, although aloof and said to be unapproachable, was quite popular. Women flocked to him, unbothered by his cold demeanor. They giggled and prodded him with frivolous questions. Openly flirting although they were well aware that he had a wife.

They were bold enough to accompany him all the way to her.

“Won’t you dance with me, King Lancelot? I’d love to entertain you-” She clung to his arm like a monkey.

Greer tilted her head, absolutely floored by this woman. Her gaze rose to his, and although his features were controlled, icy blue irises were asking for assistance. She stifled a laugh. “Excuse me-”

A wicked glare was directed at her. “Who are you, exactly?”

Oh, that wouldn’t do at all.

Taking one step forward, Greer closed the distance between her and Lancelot. Words would not be effective on someone so daring. No, she needed to show her how strong their relationship was, how irrelevant the woman’s advances were.

Their eyes met as their lips did.

Lancelot’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her warm body close. He found that she ceaselessly amazed him. If an argument had ensued, it would have reflected badly on Greer. His family might have latched onto it, in order to ostracize her.

And she’d gracefully avoided it.

Greer lingered a moment longer, laughing softly as they parted. Her hand rested against his chest, showing off the glittering stone of her ring. “Does that answer your question?” She asked with an innocent smile. Her heart pounded in her chest. She always got butterflies.

The woman huffed, puffing out her chest before stumbling away in anger.

“You surprised me,” Lancelot said, fingers brushing up and down the bare spot on her back. All the eyes in the room had fallen on them the moment they came together.

“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you,” Greer replied, patting her hand against his chest with a wink. This might be the most exciting holiday party she’d attended since Mousse accidentally set off a small explosive.

He placed a kiss to her head. “I believe there is a cafe open late in Central Quarter. Edgar has informed me that they have a special peppermint hot chocolate that has been well received.” He surely couldn’t go on his own volition, but escorting his wife was perfectly acceptable.

“Are you suggesting we sneak out?” The idea intriguing. Family obligations were unavoidable. Missing an event for anything less than a serious illness was unheard of. The repercussions were brutal.

This was a party hosted by the Kingsley family.

“How are we going to get out without being seen?” Greer asked.

A playful grin spread across his lips. “Oh, I happen to know of a few secret exits.” Before he’d fully accepted his designated role, he snuck out of many stuffy events.

Hand in hand, the two masterfully escaped the house like two children playing a game of hide and seek. Lancelot knew of every rotation of the staff, the perfect places to slip into while they passed, and took her through a cramped secret passage that left them near the stables.

Out in the cold night air, the first snow of the winter drifted down as the pair shared their first kiss of true feelings.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #lancelot kingsley #greer atlas #25 days of christmas #2020 edition #greer and lance are so cute together #i can't believe we are already on day 14

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ollifree · 3 years

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1. What are things they both find funny?

Pet antics. They share a morbid sense of humor about the plague that anyone else who lived in Vesuvia at the time would find abhorrent. They have different limits on it and know where each other’s is.

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

You’re gonna limit Lucio to one sentence? Lucio? He’s gotta talk about how smart Skylar is, how good he looks, his talent in magic, his thoughtfulness. Lucio’s favorite words for Skylar are, in order, “Pretty, precious, perfect.”

I’m taking Skylar’s from a prompt from last year.

“Should I start with his eccentricities or…? He’s loud, brash. More cunning than people give him credit for. He’ll have an absolute meltdown if he can’t get his makeup right and have himself convinced two seconds later he always gets it perfect. He wears white because he’s always covered in dog hair. He makes sure everyone knows what his opinion on something is, and will do everything within his power to fix something he deems wrong.”

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Lucio makes a point of complimenting however Skylar looks, but it’s a rare day Lucio doesn’t praise Skylar’s intellect and dedication to his work.

Skylar’s go-to descriptor for Lucio is “handsome”. His favorite (non-extensive) list of things to compliment Lucio on are: how hard he tries, how brave he is, his confidence, how passionate he is when it comes to the things he cares about.

They each compliment each other’s ass at least ten times per day.

4. What would be their ship name?

Either "grind against your bones until our marrows mix", or "the awful edges where you end and i begin", both of which are lyrics from Ludo's The Horror of Our Love.

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

Favorite activities are lounging on each other, doting on the pets, and people watching. Skylar gets coaxed into doing magic (however mundane) so Lucio can compliment him. In modern verse they binge watch bad reality tv. Lucio will put up with being outside when it snows only because Skylar likes outdoor winter activities and only because Lucio knows he’s gonna get some hardcore snuggle time at the end of it.

6. What is/are their love language(s)?

Lucio’s are gift giving (showing) and words of affirmation (receiving). Skylar’s is quality time. Physical touch is mandatory for both of them.

7. Write a ~300 word love scene for them.

This question is arophobic.

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

I’m always down for some self-fic plugging [link].

Skylar couldn’t have had a better introduction to Lucio: Julian had brought Skylar to Vesuvia for the menagerie, and Skylar and Lucio immediately clicked over their shared love of animals. Lucio truly has a unique personality and Skylar was excited to meet a new kind of person. Add on Julian’s endorsement of the Count and it’s no small wonder Skylar wound up staying in Vesuvia long past when he would have left anywhere else.

9. Have they made each other cry?

Yes. Mostly via mutual vulnerability and happiness. Then the plague happened.

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

This is a direct call out for me not writing my fic yet.

11. What causes them to fight?

Lucio’s Lucio-isms getting out of hand, or Salsa destroying something of Lucio’s. He can’t get mad at his fur babies so Skylar gets to take the brunt of it. Their biggest arguments happened over the coliseum and how to deal with the outbreak of the plague.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Before Lucio’s death Skylar didn’t invest himself enough in Vesuvian politics to give a concrete answer in that area. Insofar as Lucio’s views of being in a position of power? Yes they absolutely have different opinions.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

I was originally going to say “nothing”, then I remembered Lucio has one. So Skylar’s currently sitting at a “nothing” with an asterisk of “unless I remember something”.

Lucio’s is being around Skylar when Skylar’s sick. Lucio has a phobia of catching whatever’s going around after the plague and has to nope out of situations where he’s around illness. That being said he is hyper aware of Skylar’s health, as after leaving Vesuvia Skylar becomes more prone to colds and flues.

14. What would be a dealbreaker?

Skylar's dealbreaker almost happened, which is someone's wants getting in the way of / actively opposing another's needs. Lucio's would be unfaithfulness.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Nothing they outright dislike, but they do recognize the faults the other perceives in themselves and help them improve in that regard. For Skylar it’s his non-confrontational nature getting his needs and wants ignored. For Lucio it’s empathizing with others and taking responsibility for, and dealing with, the consequences of his actions.

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other?

How dare you.

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Never in anyone’s life would Lucio have expected to get an attachment to the smell of books yet here he is. The same goes for hot chocolate. Skylar walks into the makeup department and it’s just like walking past Lucio’s collection.

18. What would be their love motto?

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

This isn’t in the marriage vows because they have the awareness to go “if we say half the things we feel in front of anybody, concerns we are not equipped to address in an acceptable way will be raised.” After the ceremony, when they’re on their own, this exchange happens:

Lucio: “Love me. Until we’ve been dead so long our bones are dust.” Skylar: “Not good enough. It’ll have to be until the world is ash.”

20. What is a promise they have made to each other?

Similar ones to what’s above. Trauma-induced codependency reinforced by magic ritual body trading meta sure is something.

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

For the better: by helping one another with the issues listed in question fifteen. For the worse: they gain a lot of codependence for stated meta reasons, along with a very deep-seated fear of losing each other again.

In the end they do leave Vesuvia. Ultimately they are going the route of “this is a very important lesson we’ve learned about responsibility and the consequences of our actions. Now let’s get the fuck out of the city we’re responsible for and one of us nearly ruined with his actions.” They acknowledge the hypocrisy of this, and while in the end they’re better off outside Vesuvia it is there.

22. If their lives were what was originally intended at birth, would they have still fallen in love?

Because I’m a sucker for them the answer’s yes. They only hit the love stage to begin with because Lucio was able to put the work into unlearning and breaking the cycle of the worst parts of his tribe’s culture. I will say though that Lucio staying with the tribe would make it vastly more difficult for them to meet. Skylar still does his traveling, as his parents didn’t have any major expectations beyond “well-functioning adult” when raising him, but considering how infamous the warring tribes of the south are I don’t see travel into the steppes being easy or recommended.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

I honestly may come back to these but 300 words is a lot for my amount of spoons rn.

24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

“Skylar has never done anything wrong in his life.” - Lucio Arcanagame

Salsa’s definitely destroyed a few things Lucio’s particular towards, and as it’s impossible for Lucio to be mad at any of his fur babies Skylar gets the brunt of it.

Along with Lucio getting snippy with him for Salsa mauling his good shirts, Skylar’s had to forgive Lucio for a lot. Mostly it’s Lucio-isms that make things get blown out of proportion. Then there’s the Coliseum. And Lucio’s deals. And the plague.

25. What moves do they know work on the other?

“Want to have sex?” / “Yes.”

If all else fails, Lucio knows he can get Skylar out of a book and back to real life by smoochin’ behind Skylar’s ears.

26. What are their favorite parts about physical affection/sex?

Sex is a cathartic extension of their shared love language, physical affection. The orgasms are an added bonus.

27. Do they have any kinks/fetishes that they share?

All of them. Like I say it as a joke but it’s just easier writing-wise to have them on the same level. Realistically it’s like 80-90%. Both of them want to please their partner and have a good time doing so. Their communication on that front is solid.

28. Write a ~300 fantasy one of them has about the other.

This question is acephobic.

29. What are each of their signature foreplay moves?

“Want to have sex?” / “Yes.”

30. Write a short exchange of dirty talk between them.

What up I’m Olli I’m almost 27 and I still haven’t learned how to write porn.

Lucio:

“Does puppy want me to fill him up?” “So precious…” “Look. Look at what I’m doing to you.” “Beg for it.” “Not yet. You piss when I tell you to.” “Do you like the taste of your cum that much?” “Good boy.”

Skylar:

“How you feeling, handsome?” “Are you ready to behave?” “What a mess you are.” “Fuck me so full I can’t move.” “You want to be good, don’t you?” “Master.” “Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Fuck me, fuck me.”

31. What do they love to do after sex?

Shared baths.

32. Do they enjoy morning or night sex?

Why are we limiting when the sex happens? The time of day doesn’t affect their enjoyment of it. They’re exhibitionists with impunity there is literally no limit on when the sex can happen.

#arcana #lucio #skylar #oc things #otp: live inside you #it took me a year and three months to finish this #but it's finally done! \o/#so much development have been done #and so many answers have become more concrete

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theshatteredrose · 3 years

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Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 25) - Original Fiction

AN: Finally done with this chapter! Took longer than necessary; had to claw my way through illness and pain to get here but it’s worth it. Getting into some of the fun stuff of this novel :3c Now, enjoy~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 25:

Zayne stayed close to Eishirou as the two of them moved along the path that would eventually lead them to their dorm building.

Jacob's tone had been playful when he suggested that Zayne should escort him back to their room. Yet, there was a sense of concern, too. He knew more about the act of meditation better than Eishirou himself did. It was highly likely he had some expectations how the session was supposed to go.

And what happened today was a surprise to him.

It certainly was for Eishirou.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Zayne finally asked after glancing at him from the corner of his eye for the umpteenth time. "You look kinda pale."

Eishirou offered him a hopefully reassuring smile. "Just feeling a little bit drained, honestly."

Zayne didn't look one hundred percent convinced, but he gave a nod of his head nevertheless. "Was that like a recording?"

Eishirou had to consider that question for a moment. "Yeah, a little bit. But I never had one that interacted with me before. I don't think that was entirely residual energy."

"Man, I wish I could be more useful," Zayne unexpectedly muttered as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't really understand what you're saying. What any of this means."

"Ah, sorry," Eishirou immediately replied apologetically, though he knew how he felt. He felt a sense of utter uselessness whenever Zayne engaged in battle. Especially against ShadowDwellers. "I can try to explain this to you, if you like?"

Zayne paused in his steps, prompting Eishirou to do the same. However, Zayne had his gaze focused forward, his face devoid of emotion. Eishirou briefly wondered if he had said something wrong.

Before he could ask, however, Zayne suddenly lunged toward him.

In one sweeping, fluid motion, Zayne wrapped an arm around Eishirou’s waist and drew his mana holster. As the blue beam of his blade manifested, he pressed Eishirou against his side and raised his weapon over him in a shielding manner.

A mere second later, another blade collided against his.

Eishirou grasped at the front of Zayne’s jacket as sparks flew from the clashing blades.

The greyish mana-sword belonged to someone who was dressed in strange black and white robes. Long, flowing, impractical. As was the white, expressionless mask they wore beneath a hood.

Zayne shifted his weight, which momentarily dislodged the grey mana blade from his. Before their attacker could readjust their weapon, he spun around with his right leg and planted his foot into the side of the assailant’s chest. Eishirou swore he could hear the sound of bones grating and cracking from the impact of Zayne’s foot.

The force of his attack threw the other back several feet. The robed assailant stayed upright as their feet dredged over the grass, kicking up soil and dust. They buckled forward onto their knees, however, and an arm wrapped around their stomach as harsh coughing could be heard.

Zayne took that moment to readjust his hold around Eishirou.

With an arm around the back of Eishirou’s legs, just above his knees, he held him up off the ground and against his side. Eishirou flailed for a moment before he rested his hands on Zayne’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

“Hang onto my neck and don’t let go,” Zayne instructed.

Without a word, Eishirou quickly did as he was instructed. With his arms around Zayne’s neck and shoulders, he took a moment to ensure that his hold didn’t obstruct Zayne’s view before he rested his cheek atop of Zayne’s head. In order to stay as close to him as possible.

He didn’t ask him what was going on. His voice would only be a distraction. The very best thing he could do was to do what he was told; hold on until told otherwise.

He had a lot of questions bouncing around in his head, however. Most prominently; why were they attacking them?!

Another figure dressed in the very same dark robes rushed onto the field from behind the assailant on the ground. Short, sleek dark grey mana-blades appeared from the long sleeves as they rushed toward Zayne.

Zayne retaliated by pointing his weapon toward them and released several quick-fire shots at them. He struck them three times; one in each shoulder and then in the very centre of the mask. The attacks caused their second assailant to reel their head back and stopped them dead in their tracks.

They were only stunned for a moment, however. They soon righted themselves, brushed off the attacks, and sprung forward. As did the first robe attacker.

Zayne growled deep in his throat as he tightened his hold on Eishirou. The two assailants split off to circle them, to attack them from both sides.

Why? Why were they attacking them?

Eishirou tightened his arm around Zayne’s neck. “Zayne…They’re wearing armour.”

“I know. It’ll be fine,” Zayne replied softly, determinately. “Just hold on.”

“Left!”

Eishirou only had a second to recognise the voice before Zayne abruptly turned on his heel to the right, his attention focused on one of the assailants. He moved so quickly; he parried the mana-blade with a single strike of his own weapon. The sudden change in direction caused their attacker to momentarily lose balance. It was a small window, but Zayne took it.

With the broad side of his gun-blade, he struck the attacker in their side. The opposite side to where he had previously kicked. Not only was the strike quick, it was powerful.

Zayne barely uttered a sound as he tightened his grip on his holster and used the leverage he had to throw the assailant back. And away from them. He didn’t throw them in a random direction; he purposely threw them to the left. Toward the other assailant, whom appeared to have been thrown, too.

The two slammed into each other. Back to back. Yet, they somehow managed to stay on their feet.

Not for very long, though.

A beam of red light struck the both of them.

They flew backwards several feet before gravity seemed to kick in and sent them smashing into the ground. They tumbled and rolled haphazardly (and painfully) across the lawn, kicking up clumps of dirt and blades of grass. Before they slammed against the wall of the study hall. They hit the brick façade, their bodies bouncing from the force of impact before they slumped to the ground.

Winded and stunned, no doubt.

Eishirou turned his gaze away from the two to give a quick surveillance of the impromptu battled field. And recognised the two figures who forced their way into the fight.

It was Leon! And Tatsu!

“The hell is going on?” Leon asked as he pulled himself into a battle stance.

“Hell if I know,” Zayne returned sharply. “They just attacked for no reason.”

“Elites,” Tatsu murmured, a scowl on his face. “I don’t recognise their movements.”

“Eishirou!”

Huh? Misaki? What was he doing here?

Prompted by the familiar voice, Zayne finally set Eishirou down onto his feet. But kept a hand on his shoulder. “Stay back, but don’t leave,” he instructed. “We don’t know how many of these bastards are around.”

“R-right,” Eishirou stuttered. “Be careful.”

Zayne shot him a confident smile. “It’ll be fine.”

And Eishirou believed him.

He simply nodded his head and turned on his heel, essentially turning his back on the battle. He rushed to Misaki’s side, who immediately took him by the upper arm and look him over. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Eishirou answered honestly. “They just attacked.”

A deep frown tugged at Misaki’s lips as his gaze flickered back toward the battlefield. “We should leave.”

But Eishirou quickly shook his head. “There could be others. Just keep still.”

He had to remember that it was a battle. It may be within the outside gardens of the academy, a place he didn’t expect to be pulled into a fight. But it was still a battlefield. He needed to keep watch and stay back.

And as the two hooded assailants struggled to their feet, the battle certainly wasn’t over yet.

“Let’s beat the shit out of these assholes,” Zayne ordered as he revealed his second gun-blade holster.

Zayne and Leon sprung forward, their weapons at the ready, while Tatsu stayed back. He levelled his mana-guns at the advancing robed attackers and fired several times. Over the heads of his teammates, whom of which barely winced or seemed to even notice.

The battlefield was a frenzy of bodies and attack. Eishirou had his main attention on Zayne, unsurprisingly. Watching closely to ensure that he didn’t receive any injuries.

However, Zayne seemed to be dominating the battlefield.

Zayne easily dodged the blade, turned on his heel, and planted his boot into the side of his attacker. He managed to hit the assailant in the very same place that he had done earlier; in the ribs. The force of the attack threw them backwards once again. And likely broke several ribs, too.

Despite the numerous blows the assailants received, they kept trying to advance. Kept leaping to their feet to throw himself around the battlefield.

Yet, they were no longer interested in attacking. They appeared to be attempting to move around them. To get behind Zayne and his teammates.

Eishirou couldn’t help but feel they were targeting him for some reason…

After another combined attack between Zayne and Leon, and Tatsu landing the final blow, the assailants have reached their limits. They slumped against the cracked wall of the Study Hall, their shoulders heaving as they panting, with one of them clutching their side.

“Is there a point to all of this?” Tatsu coolly asked.

Neither figure replied at first. They shared a very brief glance before abruptly turning to look in their direction once more.

“We have underestimated their strength.” A voice, distorted and electronic, came from one of the attackers.

The second assailant nodded their head, and replied in the same modified and distorted tone. “Indeed. We best leave. We will succeed next time.”

Were their masks used to distort their voices to prevent them from possibly being recognised?

The two strangers stood tall, their arms down by their sides. Suddenly, grey mana-wings appeared from their backs, revealing that they possessed wing-holsters. They quickly sprung into the air and flew over the top of the buildings. And ultimately, out of sight.

Zayne and his teammates didn’t make the attempt to follow, which was for the best. Following them might just led them into a trap some kind.

And it was over. As suddenly and abruptly as it had begun.

Zayne stayed tensed for a few moments longer before he sighed and withdrew his holsters. He turned on his heel and hurried over to where Eishirou stood with Misaki. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m all right. They couldn’t even get close to us,” Eishirou replied.

Leon and Tatsu moved to join them, Leon roughly running a hand through his hair. “What do you suppose that was even about?” he asked once again.

Irwin’s voice rung in Eishirou’s head for a moment and he tugged at the strap of his bag anxiously. “You don’t think…?”

“What?”

“Irwin asked that I don’t speak of the Red Lily outside the museum,” Eishirou explained.

“Why?” Zayne asked.

Eishirou’s fidgeting increased, as did his prattling. “Well, he’s just worried that other Elites might be, well, jealous of the power I supposedly gave to you. But that would be pointless. I mean, it’s just…I don’t remember using the Red Lily. I certainly don’t remember how. I don’t remember much at all and-”

Misaki placed a hand on his shoulder to interrupt his rambling. “I’m sure it’s not the case,” he said reassuringly.

Zayne shared a quick glance with Leon and Tatsu. “We should tell Sigmund.”

Leon nodded. “Yeah. They were Elites, alright.”

“Amateurish, at best,” Tatsu just had to add.

“Yeah, but Elites nevertheless.”

Misaki gave Eishirou’s shoulder a small squeeze, prompting him to turn to face him. “You’ll need to tell Professor Chryses, too.”

Yeah. It wasn’t something he could keep from him, anyway. They weren’t exactly quiet, and they weren’t in a private location. So, there were definitely witnesses.

… … … … …

It felt as if it was only minutes later that Eishirou found himself in a conference room within the Elites’ wing of the academy. He sat at a table, surrounded by Zayne, Misaki, Team 3 (except Rinka as she was still out shopping with Lyvia, which Eishirou was thankful for as she deserved her fun), Jacob, and Sigmund.

He and Zayne took turns explaining that had occurred in that outside garden, though they were unable to offer much detail. Just they were attacked and what their assailants looked like.

After they had finished explaining, a silence fell over the room.

Sigmund roughly folded his scarred arms across his chest as a steely expression appeared on his face. “Did you recognise any of them?” he unexpectedly asked.

Tatsu shook his head. “Their movements were unfamiliar.”

That didn’t appear to please Sigmund. And yet, it didn’t surprise him, either. “I see. Unfortunately, it is likely that they were not students.”

“How can you be certain?” Jacob asked, his expression creased in obvious concern.

“They wore black and white robes, correct?”

Eishirou nodded before he added; “And a white mask.”

“Then they are likely of the group called Star Rebellion,” Sigmund went on to explain, his expression growing colder. “They are an illegal organisation that bears a grudge toward administration and the academy. They’ve been known to attack randomly, but their focus appears to be one the people who are associated with Silverleaf Academy. To cause as much disruption as possible.”

Star Rebellion…

Eishirou had heard of them through working at the Communications. And he really didn’t like a single thing about them. They weren’t above attacking outside the academy, either, if reports were any indication. They definitely held a great disdain toward Passives. And toward establishments that catered to mostly Passives.

No one truly knew why, however.

Zayne leaned back into his chair; his face unreadable. “So, they’re basically terrorists?”

Actually, they referred to themselves as Extreme Activists. From their point of view, they probably thought they were somehow…helping the academy?

Sigmund gave a sharp nod of his head in agreement to Zayne’s statement. “That’s right. They likely saw an opportunity to cause mayhem, believing that a Passive would make an easy target. They’ve have been known to target Passives specifically.”

Well, he had better keep a look out for figures in telling black and white robes. If it was any consolation, at least one of them had a couple of broken ribs. They didn’t get away unscathed.

“So, that means there isn’t exactly much we can do about this little event, is there?” Jacob asked, aggravated as he ran a hand through his hair.

“They are unlikely to attack directly again.” Sigmund suddenly sent a pointed stare toward Zayne and his teammates. “But if they do; do not hold back.”

“Oh,” Zayne uttered, his voice steely, as was his eyes. “I won’t.”

#original fiction #scifi fantasy #young adult #Mystery/Suspense #relic keepers: awakening of the red lily

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dointoomuchsworld · 3 years

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URT amidst the Pharma war

WUpon selecting a communication theory for this blog entry, I decided, why not- let’s just Google search: “what communication theory can be related to the anti-vax crowd”? The top six search results and their links that pop up spew these headlines and additional phrases:

1. “The anti-vaccination infodemic on social media: A behavioral…: However, the anti-vaccination movement is currently on the rise, spreading online misinformation about vaccine safety and causing a worrying…” (www.journals.plos.org)

2. “How to respond to vocal vaccine deniers in public- WHO: a vocal vaccine denier is defined in this document as a person who is not only denying scientific consensus but also actively advocating against vaccination…” (World Health Organization 2017 Regional Office for Europe).

3. “Vaccine hesitancy is a problem attracting growing attention and concern.” (www.sciencedirect.com)

4. “The online competition between pro- and anti-vaccination… Distrust in scientific expertise is dangerous… Results show that even if anti-vaccine narratives have a small persuasiveness, a large part of the population will be rapidly exposed to them. ” (www.nature.com)

5. “Conspiracy Beliefs, Rejection of Vaccination, and…: Many conspiracy theories appeared along with the Covid-19 pandemic. Since it is documented that conspiracy theories negatively affect…” (www.frontiersin.org)

6. “Combating Vaccine Hesitancy: Teaching the Next Generation… In 1999, the anti-vaxxer movement, an organized body of people who refuse to vaccinate and blaming vaccines for health problems” (www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov)

Well, this didn’t answer my question. It was surely a lot to read as we dive into my entry here, and it slapped someone with my way of thinking with some shut-down labels: dangerous, misinformed, science-denier, nonconsensual, behaviorally problematic, conspiracist, rejecter.

Do you know what these Google search results say to me? Censorship.

I am selecting the communication theory of Uncertainty Reduction Theory to apply towards my discussion of the pro-vaccine/anti-vaccine war.

Uncertainty Reduction Theory (URT) asserts that “people have a need to reduce uncertainty about others by gaining information about them” (Berger, C.R., & Bradac, J.J.) The information gained can be used to predict the others’ behavior. Reducing uncertainty can be particularly beneficial in relationship development, so it is more typical amongst people when they expect or want to develop a relationship than among people who expect or know they will not develop a relationship.

We have a few basic ways people seek information about another person:

1. Passive strategies: we observe the person, either in situations where the individual is likely to be self-monitoring (in a classroom; in the stands of a public event)

2. Active strategies: we ask others about the person we’re interested in, or set up a way to observe that person (sign up for the same class; sitting at a different table in the same restaurant)

3. Interactive strategies: we communicate directly with the person.

I believe this theory can be used to my topic of discussion because if we are in one of the hottest moments of the ongoing anti- and pro- vaccine movement and pharmaceutical war with COVID-19 at the forefront of it all, no matter which side we put our beliefs, followings, trust, or knowledge in, we seek out others with the same data, statistics, views, and agreeability. We strive to reduce uncertainty with others by gaining their information to benefit one another, and either develop ongoing relationships, or not. If we observe or interact with others to discover where their loyalties lay, we either discuss, debate--or worst of all, we fight like cats and dogs to what seems like the death--or come to an understanding and continue or discontinue the developed relationship.

Let’s begin how I feel within the war on vaccines. I, if you will, an introvert who isn’t so fond of putting my opinions out there, am publicly posting this in hopes of finding others and reducing my uncertainty about how others may feel, or find if they may feel similarly so that I may stand with them or offer them strength in opinions and studies. Or maybe, just to prompt an open discussion.

1. Pro-vaccine

2. Anti-vaccine

Unnecessary and divisive labels meant to categorize people into black and white thinking.

Where is the label for: I think it’s perfectly logical to want the ability to make decisions about each vaccine available on an individual basis for each of my children and myself?

Pfizer is going for full FDA approval and might have it by the end of this month, emergency approval has already been granted for 12-15 year-olds, and in September emergency approval will be requested for 2-11 year-olds.

How can you get granted EAU for an experimental drug in an age group that isn’t having an emergency? To protect vaccinated adults? Sacrificing your healthy child for an illness that doesn’t affect them so that vaccinated adults may think you’re a good person and may give you permission to move freely about your lives?

Nothing says I don’t believe in science more than vaccinating a 2-year-old for COVID.

Imagine being excited to experiment on your own child.

Children don’t stand a chance in this pharmaceutical industry that for decades have put profit ahead of doing what is right. Additionally but important to note, the pharmaceutical industry has not prioritized the research and development of cancer drugs for children. They rely on treating children with adult cancer drugs, which are far more dangerous, toxic, and aggressive on a child’s developing body, because adult cancer drugs are some of the best-selling pharmaceuticals for companies such as Merck & Co., Pfizer, AstraZeneca, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and J&J.

Here is an incomplete current list of places making the COVID vaccine mandatory, either for employment or for on site services: Montgomery County Prosecutor’s Officer; WPAFB (when it is FDA approved); Atria Senior Living; Rocky River Senior Center; Continuing Healthcare Solutions; Newburgh Heights city employees; Supers Landscape; Cleveland State University; Kenyon College; Cleveland Clinic fertility center: spouses required to have two doses of vaccine before being able to be present for embryo transfers. Kroger grocery stores now mandate proof of vaccination of its employees in order for employees to de-mask. This is marking the unclean versus clean. Here we are, segregating healthy people and in many circumstances being told to show our private healthcare papers.

There is no place for this behavior in a free society. This is discrimination based on vaccine status.

A business in Preble County is allowing employees who have taken the coronavirus vaccine to use the fitness room while those who have not, or are naturally immune, are not allowed access. They can work there but they cannot work out there... is this about health?

What changes have you made for yourself as an individual this pandemic to benefit your health and wellness?

The NFL continues to separate their unvaccinated athletes from their fellow vaccinated athletes. Separate practice areas, separate eating areas, and de-masking only those who have been vaccinated. Discontinuing COVID testing twice a week only for the vaccinated. Not allowing the unvaccinated to leave the hotel while traveling with the teams. As if either party is not safe to be around.

As a writer considering her reader, I’m wondering if you’re celebrating right now in regards to these advances, or raising some eyebrows. As for me, it fills me with a primitive rage that I feel only when someone endangers my children.

But let’s keep going.

Vaccines are necessarily risky, as recognized by the U.S. Supreme Court and by Congress.

The risk: benefit ratio varies with the frequency and severity of disease, vaccine safety, and individual patient factors. These must be evaluated by patient and physician, not imposed government, corporations, or other bureaucrats.

The smallpox vaccine is so dangerous that you can’t get it now, despite the weaponization of smallpox. Rabies vaccine is given only after a suspected exposure or to high-risk persons such as veterinarians. The whole-cell pertussis vaccine was withdrawn from the U.S. market, a decade later than from the Japanese market, because of reports of severe permanent brain damage. The acellular vaccine that replaced it is evidently safer, though somewhat less effective.

After being fully informed of the risks and benefits of a medical procedure, patients have the right to reject or accept that procedure. Preemption of patients’ or parents’ decisions about accepting drugs or other medical interventions is a serious intrusion into individual liberty, autonomy, and parental decisions about child-rearing.

Forcing Ohioans or anyone into receiving an experimental medical intervention in exchange for freedom to go to work or participate in society is contrary to fundamental human rights.

How does one feel about the persuasion to vote YES on Ohio HB 248? How’s this for propaganda: Vote YES, join the movement, on the Vaccine Choice and Anti-Discrimination Act.

This Ohio House Bill was introduced on April 6, 2021, and is in 25% progression (LegiScan). Per this Republican Partisan Bill, OH HB248 is to enact section 3792.02 of the Revised Code to authorize an individual to decline a vaccination and to name this act the Vaccine Choice and Anti-Discrimination Act.

Why should we do this? This is a stand for health freedom, for medical freedom; a vital legislation to protect vaccine choice for Ohioans now and into the future. If this legislation isn't passed, you can expect that vaccine mandates and vaccine passports will become a reality of our future. And even if you're fine with the traditional vaccines, even if you have always gotten the flu vaccine, and even if you decided to get the COVID vaccine... Ohioans will be faced with the reality that any future vaccine can be mandated by the state, retailers, employers, schools etc., and we'll have zero to say about it. This legislation will protect all Ohioans from the dystopia that we're currently facing.

Do I sound like one who denies the expertise of science now? I stand with science. I stand with informed consent. I stand with freedom. I stand with healthcare professionals. I stand with Ohio workers. I stand with parents. I stand with students. I stand with this bill for the people, by the people.

In the year 1983, the total doses of vaccines for children from birth to age 18 consisted of 24 doses and 7 injections. As of 2020, we now administer 69 doses with 50 injections. The CDC child vaccination schedule is bloated, and I will say it from the mountaintops, no matter the reaches for justification.

Advanced Pediatric, a Cleveland area pediatric practice, is embracing the idea that unvaccinated children are not safe, and must stay masked and distanced, including from others on the playground (advancedped.com). How badly will we damage our children’s social and emotional health with this kind of discriminatory action propagated by adults that are supposed to be protecting them?

Prior to COVID, measles was the much-publicized threat used to push for mandates, and is probably the worst threat among the vaccine-preventable illnesses because it is so highly contagious. There are occasional outbreaks, generally starting with an infected individual coming from somewhere outside the U.S. The majority, but by no means all the people who catch the measles have not been vaccinated. Almost all make a full recovery, with robust, life-long immunity.

The last measles death in the U.S. occurred in 2015, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Is it justified to revoke the rights of all Americans because of the hypothetical risk that a person who cannot be vaccinated due to immune deficiency might catch measles from an unvaccinated American, rather than from a visitor or a person whose artificial vaccine-based immunity has waned? Such mandates establish a precedent for ever-greater restrictions on our right to give—or withhold—consent to medical interventions?

So as I continue, and back to the focus on the COVID fiasco that I am pondering… Per the CDC website in the association with the COVID vaccine, VAERS reports that in the last four months we have recorded more deaths from the COVID vaccine than from all vaccines combined from mid 1997 through the end of 2013. As of April 30, there are 3,837 cases where the COVID-vaccinated patient has died within days to weeks after their intervention. 384 pages of patients age, sex, location, date of vax, date of onset, who administered it, who the manufacturer is, whether they were taken to the ER, and the symptoms or prior health conditions if any.

Adverse events from drugs and vaccines are common, but underreported. Although 25% of ambulatory patients experience an adverse drug event, less than 0.3% of all adverse drug events and 1-13% of serious events are reported to the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) (Lazarus, Klompas). Low reporting rates preclude or slow the identification of “problem” drugs or vaccines that endanger public health. Barriers to reporting include a lack of clinician awareness, uncertainty about when and what to report, as well as the burdens of reporting. Reporting is not usually part of a clinicians’ workflow, takes time, and is duplicative (Lazarus, Klompas).

VAERS is a passive reporting system. Healthcare workers are not required to submit reports of deaths or injuries. VAERS only reports 1% of actual injuries according to a report prepared under contract with The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality (AHRQ), U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (Lazarus, Klompas).

To recap those last several paragraphs, we are constantly told those who decline vaccines for illnesses they themselves are at very little risk for developing complications from, are putting the immunocompromised at risk. What we don’t often hear is that the procedure itself comes with risk and what that risk level is exactly is unknown.

What we do know is that only somewhere between 1-10% of adverse events are ever reported largely due to medical professionals' lack of awareness on the subject matter. We cannot force healthy people to undergo a medical procedure for which the administrator of and manufacturer have no liability when we know there is innate risk. We can’t trade one group's theoretical risk for another group's known risk.

We never hear any other side of this argument, it’s censored from us and never presented to us.

Many of these VAERS reports were from assisted living facilities, and we can determine this by scrolling through the log of reports. Do you trust many assisted living facilities, or do you think many of them had a choice?

As of June 18, VAERS reports for myocarditis or pericarditis in people age 6 to 29 for all non-COVID shots in the entire history as VAERS as: 394. The total number of VAERS reports for myocarditis or pericarditis in people ages 6 to 29 in the last six months for COVID shots: 590.

Without voluntary informed consent, medicine becomes violence.

How many billions of dollars do you think has been handed out to mainstream media outlets, such as your favorite radio stations, to propagate the COVID vaccine and to have your favorite channel’s or station’s host, or celebrity, holler into your car or household: to go out and get it now, because all the cool people are doing it; to save our communities. Because you’re a selfish expanse of existence if you don’t. Although they who preach to go get the intervention likely have little to no experience in any of the information I have provided thus far.

The Dayton RTA public transit system has banners plastered onto the sides of their buses in all caps that say, “I’m not afraid of the vaccine!” or “Help Save Lives. Get Vaccinated.”

When their passengers board the bus, they may show their hand gesture of the peace sign, to indicate they’ve been vaccinated. And at that, you’ll get a thirty-dollar credit in adult passenger fare upon proof of being fully vaccinated. A whole month of free rides and a promotional “Vaccinated” button to wear.

Promotions for vaccinated people are a flawed tactic for both brand-building and public health. Brands across industries are skipping beyond vaccine education and awareness to take a more active role in coronavirus vaccine acceleration.

One size does not fit all. All humans are not the same and have different risk factors for both the disease and the intervention. There is no greater danger to all of us than the dehumanization of others. Not trusting a vaccine, or any given doctor for that matter, does not make me a science denier.

Where there is risk there must be choice. Not ostracism. Vaccine choice and anti-discrimination.

People who are labeled as vaccine hesitant should really be called people who are hesitant to be coerced in the largest drug trial in history. Because it’s the right thing to do... It’s patriotic... to protect our community and, again, “although I am young and healthy, it’s the right thing to do” (Ohio Dept. of Health).

Mandate advocates often assert a need for a 95% immunization rate to achieve herd immunity. However, Mary Holland and Chase Zachary of NYU School of Law argue, in the Oregon Law Review, that because complete herd immunity and measles eradication are unachievable, the better goal is for herd effect and disease control. The best outcome would result, they argue, from informed consent, more open communication, and market-based approaches.

The safest place for an immunocompromised person who is unable to be vaccinated (there are very few unable to be vaccinated for COVID) is around someone who has had COVID naturally and is actually immune. Vaccinated people still contract and likely transmit COVID unlike the naturally immune. Similar to the pertussis portion of the DTAP vaccine, most often it’s a vaccinated sibling or parent who unknowingly spreads it to an infant too young to be vaccinated.

Let’s think about our Governor DeWine’s Vax-a-Million. His raffle is a disturbing act of child coercion and misuse of money that we could be putting back into our communities. A predatory bribe to bait those who easily succumb to a gambling incentive. I wish we had this kind of monetary dedication to our homeless, to our schools, to our mental health hospitals, to our trash clean-up organizations for our cities, to students already accepted into colleges. To the small businesses who have had to close their doors for good. What are my incentives for not getting the shot? Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Public health should not seek to manipulate. To manipulate in the name of public health is to undermine public health.

This is a marketing scheme. You are not required to take a liability free experimental medical intervention in order to be considered a good person. Those who say you are, are either indoctrinated into a cult-like way of thinking and lack the ability to see anything beyond that, uninformed, or evil.

It's one of many elite U.S. institutions to be completely decimated and humiliated by Pharma. It was gradual, then inexorable, and now it's their identity.

An article printed on May 31 states that a Miami Valley Hospital doctor says strokes are occurring in younger people, ages 18-45 years old. Dr. Bryan Ludwig, the chair of the Clinical Neuroscience Institute of Premier Health, is seeing this increase, including the 36-year-old stroke patient he treated upon being air-lifted to the main hospital campus (WHIO). This article does not yet state what leading causes we can look toward for the increase in strokes and clots in the youth, and does not even state a possibility of what it might be, though I’m sure we can make quite a valid assumption. It would seem that the press is trying to normalize things that are not in the least bit normal, as more articles arise in similarity.

Was it responsible for our Governor Mike DeWine to send out the tweet: “FACT: The COVID vaccine is safe and effective” upon immediate availability of the vaccine?

It is incredible that vaccine reactions used to only exist in the minds of conspirators, and now we pray for the recipients that they may make it through and only have to miss a few days of work. We don’t know anything about long-term effects but that doesn’t matter, because what about long-term effects from the actual disease? Everyone needs to do it anyway, even those at very little risk, because someone said so. Even those who have had COVID, and likely hold a great deal of immunity.

Those who came out in droves in opposition of HB248 stated things such as, “up to 30% of our college students are immunocompromised, and this justifies mandating those who aren’t to be vaccinated.”

What are we doing that is causing up to 30% of young college students to be immunocompromised?

Nonetheless, I find that statistic entirely skeptical. The industry recommends for all who they call immunocompromised, such as cancer patients to get these vaccines, and patients on immune suppressive drugs to get them. They want transplant patients to get them. They don’t actually acknowledge any contradictions outside of anaphylaxis. The “we must protect the herd” sentiment seems entirely feigned and disingenuous. It seems manipulative, dismissive.

Surely, there are immunocompromised people out there who are unable to receive the vaccine or others, but I do think it is rare.

A doctor who believe that everyone should be vaccinated, when questioned, acknowledged vaccine injury and death. She was asked what she would say to those people. Her response, in paraphrase, was, “Thank you for your contribution.” She views the injured as expendable.

The amount of doctors who opposed the house bill of vaccine choice was frightening. And who will politicians follow? Those who have personal attestations who are most oftentimes unheard or underrepresented, or clinicians pushing a pharmaceutical curriculum that acquires compensation based on how many patients are vaccinated?

In a statement made by ACIP member, Grace M. Lee, M.D., M.P.H., associate chief medical officer for practice innovation at Stanford Children’s Health, she goes on to say: “I think the childhood experience our kids have gone through will have long-lasting consequences that may extend across generations. We don’t really fully yet understand the total... physical health, mental health, and educational impact of the pandemic on our kids.”

Kids are durable. They can endure the worst of things, and they persevere. However, now, to grow up in a world that is censoring and erasing valuable information is chillingly monumental.

Considering that 23 million Americans suffer from some type of autoimmune disease, with the rates increasing 4-7% each year, and that environmental toxins are well known to trigger autoimmunity, it would seem prudent to implicate the distended childhood vaccination schedule as a possible culprit to this rise.

We are not smarter or more virtuous than someone because we draw a different conclusion after looking at the same information. Only one side of this charade wants to enforce their will on the other.

In summary, patients and parents currently have the right to refuse vaccination, although potentially contagious persons can be restricted in their movements (e.g. as with Ebola), as needed to protect others against a clear and present danger. Unvaccinated persons with no exposure to a disease and no evidence of a disease are not a clear or present danger. Making the COVID, and other vaccines, optional is the only way to protect the medical and individual rights of our citizens, consistent with good medical ethics.

Unvaccinated people are variant factories, says expert Dr. William Schaffner, from the Division of Infectious Diseases at Vanderbilt University Medical Center on June 2.

My use of Uncertainty Reduction Theory in Communication Studies applied to my stance I’ve taken on medical freedom enables me to seek and find reassurance with others, to find camaraderie with those who will continue to fight.

The way that I have questioned the pharmaceutical intervention so many times in so many ways throughout this discussion and at the very least find the timeline of events that have transpired to be odd, and furthermore advocate for the freedom of guilt-free choice instead of a blind acceptance to take whatever is fed to me via our government oversight, it may very well blacklist me from an exceeding amount of peoples’ interest.

BUT, no matter what one may think, or if one should ask me why I don’t find something better to do with my time -

What is more important than protecting my children’s freedom and health through social and ethical communication processes?

Works Cited:

Berger, C.R., & Bradac, J.J. (1982). Language and social knowledge: Uncertainty in interpersonal relations. London: Arnold.

Clanton, Nancy. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. 16 April 2021. www.ajc.com

Holland, Mary and Zachary, Chase. Oregon Law Review. Children’s Health Defense Team. 23 January 2019. www.childrenshealthdefense.org

Lavin, Dr. Arthur A. “The End of the Pandemic Begins, for the Vaccinated.” 14 May 2021. www.advancedped.com

Lazarus, R, Klompas M, Hou X, Campion FX, Dunn J, Platt R. Automated Electronic Detection & Reporting of Adverse Events Following Vaccination: ESP:VAERS. The CDC Vaccine Safety Datalink (VSD) Annual Meeting. Atlanta, GA; April, 2008. www.digital.ahrq.gov

Shimabukuro, Tom T. MD., Cole, Matthew MPH, Su, John R. MD, PhD. JAMA. 12 February 2021. www.jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/fullarticle/2776557

LegiScan Bringing People to the Process. www.legiscan.com 2021.

National Vaccine Information Center. 2021. 21525 Ridgetop Circle, Suite 100, Sterling, VA 20166.

www.medalerts.org/vaersdb/findfield.php?TABLE=ON&GROUP1=AGE&EVENTS=ON&VAX=COVID19

WHIO Staff. “Miami Valley doctor says strokes are increasing in younger people, shares warning signs.” 31 May 2021. www.whio.com/news/local

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