#no but for real the tangible heaviness I feel for all 6 of them is so real this season is gonna destroy me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sayonarasanity · 2 years

Text

Reverberation

Chapter VIII. II.

Chapter 1- 2- 3- 4- 5- 6- 7-8

link to AO3

The stars look far away.

Levi stares at the night sky. All vast, infinite, and black and he thinks about how lonely the moon is. The bottle in his hand is almost empty yet it feels heavy, nearly halfway to slipping away between his weak fingers. He holds onto it anyway. It is the one and only solid thing he feels at the moment. The sole thing that feels real, tangible. Under midnight, with the lone company of the moonlight, it is so easy to dream of oblivion. It is so easy to wish to vanish, to just not be anymore. If only there was a way, if only he could turn into dust and join the stars above, he would do it without a second thought.

He wonders if his mother can see him now from wherever she is up there and what she would think of him if she could. Disappointment, possibly. Hurt. He is a failure from head to toe. There is only one thing that he is absurdly good at and that is letting the people he loves down.

“Sorry mom,” he whispers to the night with a sliver of hope that maybe she can hear him and see how regretful he is for not trying harder. “I couldn’t save you.”

It’s still so hard to accept. Thinking about his mother now is like parting the ground in half with his own bare hands. Only the ground is his heart, and it feels like it is being ripped apart. But he hasn’t shed a single tear since the funeral. He knows he should possibly scream, cry or maybe punch something around him. Just to let it out so that it wouldn’t kill him from inside out slowly like a deadly poison.

Rather, Levi brings the bottle up to his mouth to drink the last remnants of the bitter liquid. It fills his mouth briefly before rolling down his throat. He stares at the empty thing then, his drunk gaze barely focusing on the letters written on its vitreous surface. He barely stands on his two feet. Everything around is blurry. Getting drunk on the edge of a roof was not the best idea, probably. Yet the cold glass he grips has been the mere thing that is close to a friend in these last few weeks. And the roof is the one thing that he feels close to home. It is familiar but in the most foreign way. It has the warmth of a living room when there is a blizzard outside. All he can feel right now though is the bitter cold.

It is a difficult task not to think about her now. On top of this building when he is alone with the night when he tries to forget about his loss, he remembers her. Her laughter and bright eyes, her wit and her foolishness, her voice and her existence. He thinks he needs them more than ever. To have her here with him now. The time had cruelly erased the sounds from his mind. No matter how hard he had tried to keep them by his side, treasure them in his heart and mind, he had given in to the passing years at last. Let them carry away the sound of laughter that felt like the only thing his soul needed. Now he is greedy, desperate to hear it one more time. Maybe one last time. He doesn’t deserve it; he knows but if only—

“Levi?”

He stills, fingers wrapping around the head of the bottle tightly. His body instinctively gravitates to the owner of the voice. His eyes nearly take the shape of the full moon when he turns his head to the side, his mind in a drunken haze, and he cannot believe, he cannot even fathom that what he has just heard was real. Because no amount of lost time or countless distance would be enough for him to not recognize who that voice belonged to.

“Hanji?” he whispers to himself, dumbfounded.

The bottle slips down from between his fingers and shatters to pieces on the ground. He stares at the broken pieces with shocked eyes, his heart pounds like a newly cut wound. It can’t be.

It can’t. Of course. He is drunk as hell. Levi blinks his eyes rapidly, and among the thick mist in his mind, he somehow founds the will to chuckle. A dry, humorless sound. “Fucking great,” he murmurs. “I am seeing things.”

“Levi!” The imaginary voice calls him again. This time he looks up just in time to see the dream Hanji standing in front of him. She looks painfully real, and different too from the last time he had seen her. Taller, somehow, and a little skinnier. She has grown up too. Levi hasn’t realized his dreams catching up with the present. He had always dreamed of her in her teenage years. Young, alive and bright. Now her eyes stare at him with apprehension, brows furrowed and a pair of oval glasses slipping down her nose. Hair a wild mess but even so she is beautiful. Cruelly beautiful.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The imaginary Hanji chides him. She is mad at him for some reason. For some reason? She had every right to be mad at him. Apparently, he manages to sadden her even in his dreams. “Are you out of your mind?”

Levi blinks. He is drunk. Incredibly so. And he is in no mood for the mind games his subconscious obviously takes great joy in playing with him. “Clearly, I am,” he murmurs. The dream Hanji looks even more pissed at his comment. She purses her lips for a second and Levi finds himself staring at them as if he is hypnotized. Even though he knows she is not real he barely holds himself back from reaching out to touch her face. To trace the lines of her lips, her eyes, and her cheek. To touch the soft hair adorning her face, to press his lips—

“Levi,” the dream talks again. This time the tone of her voice is different. It’s softer, quieter, and tender. As if she is afraid to cross a line. As if she is afraid to press on a deep, fresh wound.

Which is absurd. Because she is just a dream and dreams don’t think. They are not real. So is she.

The imaginary Hanji takes a step forward and he sees her eyes alight with tears. They search his eyes and the look in them is almost pleading like she is trying to reach out to him, to find him wherever he has hidden behind the walls of his heart. “I’m here.”

His lips tremble and he struggles hard to not avert his eyes from hers. Even though he knows he will look like he has gone mad talking to someone who isn’t actually here he answers regardless, “Hanji wouldn’t be here,” he says, determined.

“Why?” the dream asks, confused.

Eventually, he looks away, his eyes focus on the edge of the roof, and traces the lines of a puddle on the corner. It reflects the starry night, the moon shines on its surface, and Levi’s heart shivers when his next words leave his mouth, “Because she hates me.”

The imaginary Hanji is silent for a terrifyingly long moment, and he cannot bring himself to turn back to her eyes just to see the hurt and anger he is sure are hidden in them. His mind loves to torture him even in his dreams. This wouldn’t be the first time he faced those emotions.

After a considerably quiet moment, the dream Hanji asks, “Why do you think so?”

Levi swallows. He is sure his mind knows the answer, yet it wouldn’t let go of him that easily. He listens to a plane landing, making a howling sound, cutting the silence. And then he moves his eyes up to the moon. It is a perfect circle and so bright. He thinks about all the secrets it had witnessed them giving to each other during those years they spent with its company. And how it was the onlooker of each drop of tear he had shed on this rooftop. All alone. Desperate. And hurt. “Because I broke her heart,” he whispers.

A sharp breath leaves the mouth of his very vivid dream. This is it now, he thinks. She must be gone. He is still drunk. The alcohol runs through his veins, and it makes him unstable. It is not healthy he knows. His mother constantly chided him for giving up to the brief oblivion it provides. But she is not here anymore, is she? Just like Hanji. They both were the only things he had valued with everything he got and lost painfully.

He decides he wants to look at her one last time before she disappears. Who knows when he will see a dream which feels as realistic as this one? He wants to make the best of it. Wants to engrave each and every detail of her face in his mind just so it will be impossible for it to ever disappear from his memory.

Just when he moves his eyes back on her, he sees a drop of tear sliding down her cheek. “And I broke yours,” she whispers.

He hates to see her cry; he thinks knitting his brows and he almost almost reaches out to wipe the tear away from her cheek.

But before he can do so he feels cold, soft hands cupping his face, and warm breath touches his face. And he freezes, eyes widening and mouth agape. A dream shouldn’t feel this real, this solid. A dream shouldn’t make his breath hitch and his heart skip a beat. A dream shouldn’t be able to hold him like this.

Unless it is not a dream. Not a product of his drunk and mourning brain. But reality. Actual, palpable reality. “How?..” He says, bewildered. “Hanji…”

A sound between a sob and laughter escapes her mouth. “And you call me an idiot.” Her thumb traces his cheeks, wiping away the tears he hasn’t even realized fall from his eyes. “I’m here.”

“But why?” He asks again. Insistent. Because he is curious. He wants to know why after everything he has done, she has come here to find him in a place he has specifically made for himself just so nobody could.

She looks at him with wet and sorrowful eyes. The hazel-brown shade of them is so familiar it makes his stomach burn with longing and with the ashes of a love he had been hiding in his heart like a valuable mine. “Because you are still my best friend,” she says quietly and with tears shining bright on her face.

And somehow it is enough for his drunk brain cells to finally accept the fact that she is here with him for real. That the hands holding his face and the eyes searching his are not a dream. That she is not a dream, and he hasn’t yet crossed the line of sanity.

Blindly, his hands find her waist, circling around her to bring her body flush against his. He buries his nose in her neck, breathing in the scent of her he has been yearning to feel again for years. His eyes close and his arms tighten to hold her impossibly closer. Hanji’s arms wrap around his neck and her fingers run through his hair and his undercut.

Maybe it is her presence, her solid warmth that in the end encourages him to speak out the words of truth he has been trying to ignore for days. There is no one else he can open his heart so blatantly to, without worry and without any fear. She is the only one who can kneel with him to pick up the millions of pieces of his soul that are scattered apart. And now she is right here, between his arms, just where he needs her.

“I lost my mom, Hanji,” he whispers against her neck, throat tight with sobs that are ready to leave his lips at any second. The tears he has been holding so stubbornly now wait on the edge, threatening to fall down.

“I know,” she says, and he feels her lips pressing hot kisses on his neck, and her tears leave wet traces on his skin. “I’m so sorry, Levi. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She repeats it like a mantra, like the more she says it the more she can take away from his pain.

His body is trembling as a result of how hard he is fighting against his tears and to not just give in and let go of everything that had been building out over and over in his heart like a skyscraper. His nails dig into her raincoat, and his teeth are pressed so tight it is nearly painful.

Hanji picks out the shivering that is shaking his whole body. And of course, she understands and sees the reason behind it. “Let it go,” she tells into his ear. Her voice is soothing, familiar like a spring breeze on his skin. “Let it go, Levi. I’m here. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

And as if he has been waiting to hear those words, let go he does. After a long, fierce battle he comes out bloody and wounded but rises the white flag all the same. Eventually, the sobs leave his mouth one by one, tears fall down like a waterfall and the mere thing that keeps him above the surface is her touch and her warmth. And as he wets her shoulder with his tears, as his whole body jerks with the force of his sobs she holds him throughout it all, whispering into his ear, her fingers caressing his skin.

And he prays, maybe for the first time since his mother passed away that if this moment is a dream, then please God don’t make me wake up.

Hanji stands quietly behind Levi as he very much struggles, given how drunk he is, to open the door to his apartment with his keys. Silent curses leave his mouth as harsh whispers and Hanji purses her lips to hide the smile that quite obviously wants to shape on her lips.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

They had taken a taxi ride to his home. She had learned from Kenny that he lived alone. Though not very far from his mother and Kenny he had an apartment a little away from the city center. They hadn’t talked much during the ride. But she had felt Levi’s gaze on her until the car had stopped to signal their arrival.

It still feels like a dream. Him being in front of her now. He has grown up a lot as expected. His shoulders are wider, and he is a little bit taller, the lines of his face are sharper. His hair is still the same though. Straight black with an undercut. It looks smooth and clean. His overall appearance is clean. Very much like him. Very much like the Levi she has known.

Finally, after a lot of hard work, Levi manages to open the door. He pushes it open and gestures with his arm for her to step inside. His eyes watch her every move intently.

Hanji smiles and enters his house with her heart beating loudly. It is dark before Levi follows her behind and closes the door and he switches the lights on. She is nervous. Completely opposite of how she felt when they were together while they were young. It is different now. She is aware of his very presence; of every breath he inhales and every sound he makes. On the one hand, it is normal considering that it had been eight years since they last saw each other. On the other hand, though…

“Would you like something to drink?”

Hanji winces, quite visibly, and stares at him with wide eyes. Too nervous. “Uhm…”

“Not anything that includes alcohol,” Levi adds, his eyes are a pretty shade of blue under the yellow light of the hall and they are slightly red around. But he has that same sharp gaze. Intense, even though they are merely talking about what they should drink. Somehow, it causes goosebumps on her skin. “I am still a little drunk.”

Hanji snorts, just to gain a little more confidence, and maybe relax a bit. “That was a big ass bottle, Levi.”

“It’s barely enough,” he says grimly, then sighs, “I do need to sober up tough.”

Hanji pushes her glasses up her nose and nods. Together they walk towards the kitchen. Levi’s steps are calculated like he might trip down any second. No wonder he had thought she wasn’t real with that amount of alcohol he had consumed.

The kitchen is big and wide and the cupboards are white. There is a kitchen island in the middle with chairs lined around. While Levi fills the kettle with water Hanji travels her hand on the cold surface of the island just to have something to do other than thinking about the way he held her, the way he stared at her, and the way he looked like when he said, “Because I broke her heart.”

It pains her even to think of. He had spent years thinking that she might hate him when in reality all she had felt was confusion and unresolved curiosity as to why he had chosen to be alone like that.

And how he had cried in her arms afterward like each drop of tear took away a part of his heart. It had taken minutes for his sobs to subdue and tears to dry. Hanji couldn’t even think of how long he had been hiding them inside, keeping them behind a barricade that was inevitably bound to break at some point.

The sound of the kettle boiling disperses her thoughts. “So, what do you do?” He asks, his back facing her as he takes two teacups out from a drawer. Small talk with Levi as if they are two strangers feels awkward and a little bit painful, but Hanji goes along with it. That’s what they need now. A fresh start.

“I am working as a space scientist,” she says, sitting on one of the chairs. “In Jeager Space Administration.”

Levi throws her a brief look from above his shoulder. There is a small smile on his lips which makes her heart flutter. He turns back to his work of placing two tea bags inside the cups. And although she cannot see his face now, she can hear the pride in his voice when he says, softly, “That’s my Hanji.”

The sound of her heartbeats reverberates in her ears, her lips open and close with no words leaving her mouth and she finds herself dumbfounded, staring at his back. My Hanji.

She shakes her head as if to clear the fog his words created in her head. “What about you?” she directs the question back at him, clearing her throat. “You’re an aerospace engineer, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers as he fills the cups with boiling water. “I am working at a small company. Nothing worth mentioning. It’s totally not as fancy as yours.”

Hanji chuckles and rests her cheek on her palm after placing her elbow on the kitchen island. She is fully aware of the fact that they are beating around the bush, ignoring the actual matters that they should be talking about completely. Like how, despite everything he had told her that day they were moving away, he had become an aerospace engineer still. Following the dream that they had set for themselves to work side by side, to be together no matter what. Knowing that the last part of that dream never came true was heartbreaking.

And Kuchel. Hanji can feel the matter hanging in the air, heavily between them. Though neither of them makes a move to say a word about it. It is not that difficult to see the dark brushes of grief on his face. It is all over his body. Settled on his shoulders like a dead weight.

Unaware of what’s going on inside her head, Levi walks towards her, bringing two cups of tea to the island, the hot stream rises from their surface, and they have a nice, soothing smell. He places them on the island, then straightens up but just when he is about to walk around her to get to the other side, he stumbles on his feet, and with a startled huff he loses his balance.

Hanji doesn’t even realize what she is doing until they become face to face with bewildered eyes and her fingers are grabbing his upper arms. He feels solid underneath her hands. And warmth radiates through the fabric of his white shirt. Her fingers don’t even wrap fully around his arms. They merely hold a part of them which is quite weird because how the hell had he become so big?

“Have you been working out?” she blurts like the bewildered fool that she is. Immediately her cheeks heat up and she bites her tongue inside.

An almost smug grin lifts one corner of his lips. “Every now and then.”

“Good,” she comments. “For your health, I mean.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, still playful smile hanging on his mouth. But then his eyes leave hers to travel around her face, past her cheekbones, and her nose, and they stay fixated on her lips.

Her breath is stuck somewhere in her throat and Hanji cannot stop her eyes from taking the same route. Following his dark eyelashes, the circles underneath his eyes which are the remainder of his sleepless nights, his little, perfect nose, and the barely visible shadow of a beard around his jaw.

And then finally his lips.

She feels her fingers tighten around his biceps uncontrollably. This isn’t what she thought would happen when she saw Levi again for the first time after all these years. Love had been an innocent, fragile thing while they were merely teenagers. And she had been so busy trying to ignore her feelings and accept the fact that they would never be requited she hadn’t paid enough attention to anything that was simply physical. She had been in love with his mind and the kindness he kept hidden in himself. Everything aside, it had been years. She must’ve buried all those emotions by now. She had thought she had. Yet, now they sprout again, emerging through what must have been the gravestone of her feelings. And it is different now, poisonous even, given how it affects her at the moment as if she had drunk it straight from a bottle.

Somehow, that poison must have paralyzed her for she cannot look away from the way his lips move when he talks, “I should probably take a shower.”

The way her heart pounds is nearly painful. She finally manages to rip her eyes away from his mouth to carry them up to his eyes. She blinks. “Okay.”

Now under the white, fluorescent lights, his eyes are somehow darker, and they seem to be losing focus from time to time. And as seconds thick by but he doesn’t move, gradually they fill with much sorrow and undeniable longing. She can feel her own eyes reflecting the same emotions. They had a lot to talk about. So many things to unravel. Countless misunderstandings to fix.

His eyes soften and a little smile flutters on his lips. And just like old times, Hanji doesn’t get surprised when he says, as if he has read her mind, “We have much to talk about, don’t we?”

Somehow, that single question finally makes her relax. She can feel the tension on her shoulders at ease, and she displays a smile mirroring his. “Yeah.”

His smile vaguely widens then eventually he straightens up and Hanji’s hands fall on her lap. He doesn’t instantly leave. Instead, he holds up his hand and his thumb brushes her chin, caressing it with a featherlight touch. Yet it is enough to send a rush of goosebumps along her body. “Drink your tea,” he says unaware of what his little gesture caused. “I’ll be right back.”

Hanji has been watching the flickering city lights from behind the large window in Levi’s living room when he finds her. She sees his reflection on the glass first, resting against the door frame with a towel around his neck and wet hair combed back. He watches her for a while as if he cannot believe that she is actually there.

Then he comes to stand next to her. His shampoo spreads a sharp, fresh smell like that of peppermint. His eyes are thoughtful as they observe the past-midnight view outside.

“Pretty view you have here,” Hanji says as partly an attempt to break the silence and make the atmosphere less awkward and more familiar.

Levi shrugs as if it’s no big deal. He looks at her then, his eyes take in the frame of her face. Examining her features. “I think I do,” he responds.

Something in the way he has said those words makes her cheeks go aflame, “You’ve changed,” she remarks getting more and more aware of that fact. Change has been of course inevitable and while in some aspects he is still the same in some he is clearly different. He is more somber, thoughtful, and calmer.

He looks away, giving her a clear view of the self-evident sorrow on his face. “I’ve lost a lot.”

Her throat tightens, “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Levi—”

“How did you know?” he cuts, and he sounds curious like he has been meaning to ask the question since the moment he saw her tonight.

“Kenny called me,” Hanji answers, slightly taken aback by his abrupt question. “He was really worried about you.”

Hanji had texted Kenny to let him know that she had found Levi while Levi was taking a shower. Kenny had replied with lots of colourful swear words and a thank you in return.

A muscle moves on Levi’s jaw upon hearing his uncle’s name and Hanji remembers her conversation with Kenny this morning. He must be still mad at him she thinks but his anger doesn’t seem to have been directed towards only one person. She has a feeling that he is angry with himself the most.

Then she adds, quietly, “I was too.”

But too late. She can clearly see the moment he builds his walls and surrounds himself with them. “I’m alright,” he says turning around and walking towards the L-shaped sofa in the corner of the room.

Hanji follows him as he sits down. “You don’t look alright,” she comments.

He runs a hand through his half-soaked hair and throws the towel wrapped around his neck on top of the back of the sofa. “Wonder why,” he murmurs.

“Don’t be sarcastic.” It’s his trait, his way to cope with things she knows. But if he is sarcastic then she is stubborn and she won’t let him get away easily.

Levi looks up at her from where he sits, and she sees the thing she fears the most in his eyes, coldness.

“Why?” he asks, “What are you going to do about it?” And Hanji knows. She feels the sharp edges of the knife right on her ribcage before she even sees it. “Leave me again?”

Her body freezes, motionless as a statue and she cannot even talk for several seconds. Her remorse and pain resurface, rises like a hurricane, and almost drown her with its crashing waves. “Don’t,” she manages to say.

“Why not?” he stands up and takes a careful step towards her. “Isn’t that the truth, Hanji?”

Hanji knows he is in pain, a pain she cannot even imagine. And she is aware that he has the right to be mad at her, to yell and demand answers. As much as she does. He had accepted her decision then. Never once questioned it after she left. Now it is time to pay back. Both for her and him.

Nevertheless, his cruelty is what she cannot bring herself to accept. This isn’t a fair game though and being brutal isn’t an option but a necessity. So, she plays her own card. “You left me too.”

Her remark sparks something in his eyes. They flicker as if he is holding himself back from displaying whatever he feels inside. He keeps the walls safely around him though, doesn’t let her even touch their surface. And Hanji thinks there are only a few other things more painful than watching one person you know heart and soul now becoming a stranger. The person who once had been a book the pages of which she had known by heart now standing right in front of her having ripped all those pages and burned them to ashes.

“I had to,” he answers shortly as if that explains everything.

But she won’t hold back now. If he demands answers so does she. “I would’ve come with you,” she says, voice roughly trembling. “You know I would.”

“You didn’t even want to talk to me—”

“Because I was stupid!” She burst, causing his eyes to slightly widen with bewilderment upon her outburst. “I was in pain, and I didn’t know what else to do with it! But I would still come with you if you asked me for it, Levi. You know damn well I would.”

“So what?” he retorts, finally he lets the flames of his anger lighten his eyes. “What if you came with me? I didn’t even know what kind of hell I was walking into. My mother was sick, I was moving away to somewhere I didn’t know shit about, and we didn’t have enough money to fucking live properly. I barely managed to finish the first year of university because my idiot of an uncle lost all the money we had.”

His breaths are fast, his chest moving up and down quickly as if he had run a marathon. Hanji merely watches, unable to do anything else. No matter how much she wants to reach out to hold him for all the years he had to live alone and all the suffering he had to carry on his own.

“You didn’t have to face all that alone,” Hanji tells him, she feels her anger dissipate and she waits for him to calm down.

And he does, merely seconds after like he doesn’t even have the energy to yell, to be mad, or to feel anything anymore. “It was goddamn hell, Hanji,” he adds, now calmer. As if he is exhausted. “How would I have let you go through it as well?”

It hurts her to know that she had been the reason why he had made that choice. “That’s why you never picked up when I called?” she asks her heart tightening with sorrow. “The reason why you never talked to me?”

He nods, his eyes looking everywhere else but her. “I wanted you to hate me,” he says honestly. “I thought it would make it easier for you to go on with your life. Without me…”

“It wasn’t easier,” she completes his sentence. “You know how important you were to me. I was angry but I never hated you.” She takes a step closer to him, eyes searching his face. They burned and her vision blurred. “I wouldn’t care you know,” she whispers, and she doesn’t feel even a moment of hesitation while uttering her next words, “Going through hell with you.”

“I know.” He closes his eyes and a second later when he opens them, he looks at her with such candidness that it takes her breath away. “But you don’t understand Hanji,” he says, and the way he stares into her eyes and the emotions floating on their surface captures her soul like a tornado. “I was in love with you.”

Time slows down around her; air gets thick and the mere thing she sees is the blue of his eyes. The colour of the moon. Hanji thinks of that boy who watches the stars, and she feels like that girl on the rooftop again. A child and ecstatic, unaware. A teenager and heartbroken, in love. Hanji had always thought it was the rooftop that made feel her closer to the sky. But it wasn’t the rooftop that lifted her up to touch the stars.

It was him.

“You loved me?” She asks, silently, bewildered, dizzy, and without even waiting for an answer.

“I was going to tell you,” he continues as if what he has just said hasn’t turned her entire world upside down. “Remember the day I called you and told you that I had something to tell you? It was that. I was going to tell you that I loved you. I didn’t even care what would happen after. I was ready to take the risk but then…”

He sighs and closes his eyes, but Hanji understands. “You learned your mother was sick,” she completes instead of him, a few drops of tears have already wetted her face.

Levi nods. “I had to leave you, Hanji,” he stares into her eyes as if he is begging her to understand. “It was the only way to keep you safe, to make sure you fulfilled your dreams, to know that you were happy. Away from me,” he releases a shaky breath. “I was a fucking mess. Believe me, you were better off without me.”

Hanji shakes her head, “You shouldn’t have faced all of that alone.”

“I managed,” he says. Barely is what is hidden behind his words.

Hanji wipes her cheeks and decides that it was only fair if she laid all her cards on the table. “I was selfish.”

Levi looks at her curiously, “What?”

“I left you because I didn’t—couldn’t bare seeing you with her.” She averts her eyes to the painting on the wall behind Levi. “I should’ve been happy for you as your best friend. But I—the more I tried to come to terms with it the more I realized that it was eating me alive like a worm. Bit by bit.”

“Hanji—”

“So, I broke our friendship before I made something stupid to make it even worse,” she carries her eyes back at him to see his somewhat shocked expression. “It was way too late when I realized that I had fallen for you already. But I chose to run away from that feeling rather than facing it.”

Levi stares at her with astonishment for a handful of moments and then he says, “And you were supposed to be the genius.”

Upon his obviously unexpected reaction, it takes Hanji a while to respond, “I am the genius!”

“Clearly you’re not emotionally intelligent.”

“You’re the one to talk!”

“I bet you didn’t figure it out yourself,” Levi challenges. “Who told you that you loved me?”

Hanji hesitates before answering, cursing at the way he can still see through her. “Erwin,” she says timidly.

“Glad to know you two gossiped about me,” he says, smugly.

“What about you?” Hanji asks, crossing her arms.

“Huh?”

“Who told you? You couldn’t have possibly found it out yourself either. You are not so good with feelings, are you?”

Levi glares at her before answering, so quietly that she barely catches it. “Petra.”

“Hah!” Hanji exclaims throwing her hands in the air. Unbelievable. “Congrats, we are both the fools of the century.”

“We are soulmates for a reason,” Levi says, and once again the mood instantly changes.

Up to this point they both had talked in the past tense. Hanji is perfectly aware that there is no guarantee they are holding the same feelings now. Life is like a constantly moving train. It never stops to wait for passengers. It merely comes to a brief halt only to pick up, bitter or sweet, all memories and nothing else. It collects all the laughter and pain, tears and merriness then it leaves, moves so swiftly the eye fails to catch even its silhouette. o

But, Hanji thinks, being someone’s soulmate is something the passing years cannot wither, cannot erase. Whether something like it exists or not. Hanji is sure some way or another other their souls are connected.

No one in this world can understand her better than him.

And as such, she is certain that throughout all those years she never once stopped loving him.

“Sorry,” Levi says, probably having misunderstood her silence. “Was that—”

“Why did you study aerospace engineering, Levi?” Hanji drops the question finally. It had been demanding an answer for years for it was in contradiction with what he had told her the day he left.

They weren’t our dreams, Hanji. They were yours.

Hard she tried, she could’ve never forgotten those words. They had hurt her more than anything. The two had grown up building their future with their bare hands, piece by piece. And that day he had stepped on it as if it meant nothing to him.

For a second she is able to see the regret in his eyes and she knows he understood the reason why she asked this question. And it doesn’t take him long to answer it.

“Because it was our dream.”

Taking off her glasses Hanji presses the palms of her hands on her eyes because at this point there is no way to stop the tears from flowing furiously. She barely manages to prevent her sobs to shake her shoulders by pursing her lips. It feels like an overflow for everything she had buried until now. For the lonely nights, she had spent on the rooftop without him as the cold wind pierced her clothes and she had thought that the stars meant nothing. For the days she had walked past his empty house staring at the naked windows and praying for the door to be open and be welcomed with the smell of newly baked apple tart and warmth. For the sleepless nights, she lay on the floor of the attic, staring up at the navy blanket with tears running down the sides of her face and wishing to hear his voice once again. To have him right beside her. To laugh with him one more time. And for the times she sobbed hugging her mother’s chest as her fingers ran softly through her hair, “I miss him, mom. I miss him so much.”

For Kuchel. And for the fact that she will never have the chance to see her smile again.

And for Levi who has lost his mother, who has had to carry all the burden by himself because he loved her, and he loved his mother. Because he is selfless and the strongest person she had ever known.

“I’m sorry,” Levi whispers. “I don’t know if it means anything though for it,” he pauses, and Hanji waits for him to continue while her ragged breaths leave her mouth. “if I had to do it again, I would. Without hesitation. But Hanji… wouldn’t you do the same?”

For some reason that makes her cry even harder, and she no longer tries to subdue her sobs from jerking her whole body. She is somehow able to nod because he is right. She would do anything to protect him.

Then she feels his presence right in front of her and his fingers grab her wrists. Hanji lets him pull her hands down but she is unable to meet his gaze as his fingers caress her skin softly and she is certain that there will never come a time when he will feel like a stranger to her. It is not possible given the fact that she knows him with every fiber of her body.

And then he hugs her gently, holds her carefully and tenderly. Completely opposite to the way he had held her earlier on the rooftop. Hanji presses her forehead on his shoulder, and her fingers grab his t-shirt weakly. And as he leaves a kiss on her hair as light as a butterfly, she wishes she hadn’t waited so long for this moment to come.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” she gives him her very late apology. “I really am.”

“It’s alright. Don’t think about it now,” Levi whispers, his fingers running through her hair. “Let’s get some sleep. You must be tired.”

We both are, Hanji wants to say but only approves with her head and lets Levi direct her out of the living room.

Hanji changes her clothes with the ones Levi had given to her inside the bathroom. Meanwhile, she washes her face and wets her neck. Though the redness around her eyes is still clearly visible. She places her glasses on top of her nose and reties her hair before leaving the bathroom.

Levi is pulling the blanket of the twin bed down when she enters the bedroom. His room, as expected, is extremely tidy. There is nothing out of place or looks like a surfeit. He has a little library right next to the window and she can pick out the familiar backs of certain books she had read. And as she walks closer to it, she sees the copy of Macbeth, the one she had given to him on his birthday, on one of the shelves. A smile blooms on her face as if she had come across an old friend and she is about to reach out and take it in her hand when Levi calls her.

“You can sleep here,” he says, and Hanji turns around to see him pointing to the bed with his hand. “The sheets are clean.”

Her smile widens and Hanji walks closer to the bed and sits down, breathing in the fresh smell of the cotton sheets. She had never really realized how exhausted she actually had been for the last couple of days. No matter the fact that she had slept at Eren’s house and eaten a little before leaving to find Levi. She hadn’t been able to rest with a clear mind.

“I never doubted you, you know, clean freak.”

When he hears the old nickname, his eyes round slightly with surprise, and a pause after, a smile adorns his lips, and Hanji smirks. “That’s because you have no standard when it comes to hygiene, four-eyes.”

Hanji gasps, obviously fake. “How dare you!” But then she starts to giggle, feeling lightened for the first time in years. “You’re right though.”

Levi snorts. “Of course, I am.”

It’s been a long time, yet Hanji still remembers. Silence with Levi had never been something strange or uncomfortable. They, mostly her, one way or the other found a topic to talk about. However, at the moment as silence settled over, she feels awkward and doesn’t know what to say or what to do.

“Goodnight then,” Levi says eventually. And then turns around to leave the room.

That, in the end, is what prompts her. “Where are you going?” she sounds a little panicked because well she kind of is.

He stops and faces her, raising a brow. “To the living room.”

Hanji pauses. Well, naturally, that is the logical thing to do. “But…”

“It’s alright,” Levi interrupts. “I barely sleep on the bed anyway.”

For some reason that makes her feel even worse. “Don’t go.”

His shoulders tense, surprise paints his face and he seems ready to reject her. “Hanji—”

“You can sleep on the floor,” she suggests reminiscing about the old days.

“How is that better than sleeping on the couch?” he asks, confused.

Hanji shrugs and smiles timidly. “Or you can sleep in the bed.”

“What about—”

“With me.”

He inhales through his nose, patiently, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hanji.”

“Why not?” she tries once more. “It’s not anything we haven’t done before.”

“We are not children anymore,” Levi says. For sure, Hanji is overly aware of that.

“The bed is big enough for the two of us,” she states. “We’ll keep our distance.”

Levi pauses as if he is at least considering her offer. “It’s a terrible idea.”

“Terrible ideas are my thing.”

“This is the worst you’ve ever come up with.”

“Worse than letting you cut my hair?” She smirks.

His eyes narrow while he seemingly compares the two of them inside his head. “Yes,” he decides to say at last.

Hanji pouts, picking at a stray string on the blanket. “You’re no fun.”

“This has nothing to do with fun, Hanji,” Levi says surprisingly gravely. “Sleeping in the same bed with you means I’m going to suffer until the damn sun rises.”

Hanji blinks his eyes. Truthfully that had made her feel just a little bit awful. “Well, sorry. Didn’t know you despised the idea that mu—”

“You’re the densest person I’ve ever seen,” Levi sighs.

“Ouch.”

“Idiot,” the familiar word spills from his mouth easily but there is no heaviness behind it. He says it much affectionately as a smile lifts one corner of his lips. Hanji never thought of everything else she would miss the way he called her like that the most. Then he sighs again like he is fighting against what his heart desires and what his brain rationalizes. “I should sleep in the living room.”

Hanji doesn’t say anything this time and just confines with watching him silently as he walks towards the door and murmurs something like ‘oblivious woman’ and ‘hasn’t grown up a day’ as he slaps upon the light switch and causes the room to go dark.

Then he turns around and approaches the bed.

Her body locks and with wide, bewildered eyes she watches him through the dark as he sits on the edge of the bed, opens the bedside lamp then lies down and pulls the blanket to his chest. And when he turns his head a little to do side, she is still quite astonished. He places an arm under his head. His stare is nonchalant.

“So?”

“What?” she croaks.

He lifts his head up a little. “Didn’t you want to sleep with me?”

Everything happens in a second. Hanji doesn’t even bother to think or consider as she grabs the pillow on her side, holds it up and it lands on Levi’s face with a loud pat.

His ultimate shock lasts barely a few seconds. When he grips the pillow and pulls it away from his face his eyes are fiery, burning like coals. “The hell?”

“You wanted to play it dirty.” Hanji points to the pillow with her chin. “Dirty it is then.”

A heartbeat later she feels the soft surface of the pillow hitting the side of her face. It isn’t painful or hard, yet it is enough to freeze her with surprise. Her shocked glare finds Levi who is now sitting on the bed, his expression challenging, almost daring.

Her fingers clutch to either side of the pillow which Levi still grips as if his life depends on it. And when she pulls it towards herself, he pulls it back. The back and forth goes on for a while until it leaves Hanji sweaty on the forehead. He had become absurdly strong. “Give me the pillow!” she protests at last, out of patience.

“No,” Levi says casually.

“It’s mine,” Hanji remarks. “Give it back.”

“Technically it’s mine,” Levi slaps.

“You know I won’t let it go until you do.”

“Likewise.”

Stubborn bastard. Hanji inhales through her nose, gritting her teeth. Then she forces a smile, not sincere in the slightest. “Let’s chat a little then, shall we?”

He shrugs. “Fine by me.”

His stare is indifferent, posture calm and relaxed. He knows that Hanji cannot win over him with just muscle power. But she has another thing up in her sleeve.

“How’s your love life?”

The question causes the effect she had been expecting. He seems caught by surprise. “Huh?”

“Love life?” Hanji repeats and although she had asked the question as a distraction her heart beats faster as she waits for the answer which she actually is in great curiosity to hear.

“Oh that,” he says nonchalantly. “Non-existent.”

“Really?” That answer had satisfied her she couldn’t lie but apparently, she had been expecting a different one.

“Yeah,” he responds easily. “I haven’t dated anyone since Petra.”

“Oh,” Hanji says. Feeling disappointed for some reason. “I see.”

“You don’t see a thing Hanji. Even with those thick glasses of yours.”

Almost subconsciously, Hanji readjusts her glasses. “Now you’re just being rude.”

Levi sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. “Why have I—” He stops and looks into her eyes. “You know I broke up with her because of you.”

Hanji blinks her eyes, and she is about to react but why? But then again it is not rocket science to guess the reason behind it. He had said it himself. I was in love with you.

But before Hanji is able to let out a single word Levi acts faster than her. “Please don’t ask me why. You should know since you’re a genius.”

“You know Levi, the way you say it makes me feel like I’m a blithering idiot.”

He clicks his tongue. “Wonder why?”

Irritation fills her insides and Hanji pulls the pillow towards herself harshly, hoping maybe he has softened his iron grip on the corners of the poor thing. Yet his answering pull is even more powerful than before, and it makes her body jerk forward. She balances herself by pressing upon the pillow with her palms and stares at Levi with wide eyes. “This isn’t a fair game.”

“It never has been,” he lets his eyes roam about her features and her heartbeats go so fast they echo in her ears. Her fingers clutch the pillow even more tightly. For the second time this night, his stare pauses on her lips. “I told you this was a terrible idea.”

“Why don’t you elaborate?” Hanji challenges, feeling bold for no logical reason. What is the point of walking into the waters she is fully aware of that are deadly and perilous? None. But walking away for a dash of oxygen had brought nothing but dry air into her lungs and thousands of fractures in her heart. So why not walk into it instead this time?

When he looks back at her, his eyes are sharp and under the dim light of the bedside lamp, they are darker like the midnight ocean. Yet unlike the ocean, they are not placid or still. His stare is scorching, menacing. But enough running. She responds to his stare determinedly, steadfastly.

“Why do you think it’s a bad idea, Levi?”

But Levi doesn’t give her a verbal answer. Instead, he grabs her upper arms, fingers steady and robust but not quite painful around her flesh, and within a second, before she is able to give any kind of reaction, she finds herself laying on the bed with Levi hovering above her and the pillow they had been fighting for squeezed between their bodies.

For a handful of seconds, she lies there, dumbstruck while Levi pulls his fingers away and he rests his forearms on either side of her head. Her chest moves swiftly with her thick, unstable breaths making the pillow rise and fall with its movements. And his face is tense, solid like a rock. His lips are pulled in a thin line and his eyes are switching between all kinds of emotions. Hanji realizes that he is waiting for a reaction from her. Any kind of a reaction. Or else he seems like he is going to crumble away like dust.

Because he is self-conscious, Hanji notices. It is as if he waits for her to push him back, yell at him, or run away.

But it’s Levi. Her Levi. Her best friend. Her first love. He had never felt like a stranger. He never would.

So, she smiles, and delights in the way his eyes slightly widen, and the way tension finally retreats its invasion from all over his body. And as he closes his eyes a deep sigh leaves his mouth as if he has been holding it for some time then he leans in, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes close on their own accord and she merely focuses on his fresh smell and cold breath that caresses her skin. She raises her hand to rest it on his neck, her thumb traces the line of his undercut.

“It’s because I want to hug you,” he whispers, finally answering her previous question and Hanji keeps her breath. “I want to hold you so close I feel like I might die if I don’t. Because I’m still trying to convince myself that this isn’t a dream, Hanji. That you’re here, with me.”

Once again, his candidness leaves her stunned and the heaviness behind his words, the emotions he hides underneath them all feel like a giant wall towering above her. It is the sincerity of a man who has already lost so much that he doesn’t care about pushing a little forward. They had wasted almost a decade running away from their feelings. It was enough.

“I am,” Hanji holds his face with both hands to make him look into her eyes. “But I won’t be for long, Levi. So, let’s just… let’s just spent as much time together as we can, okay?”

“Right,” his eyebrows wrinkle, displaying his discontent. “How long will you stay?”

Hanji had asked for a week off but since she had a team to lead Mr. Jeager had only allowed her to take four days off. “I would love to give you a week off believe me,” he had said back when they both had been waiting for the bus. “But we can’t afford to be away from you that long.” A wink and a playful smile had accompanied his words so she couldn’t have told whether he was being sincere or not, but orders were orders and she had to obey them.

“Just a few more days,” she says, disappointedly.

Levi nods, curtly. It is clear he is not content with her answer yet doesn’t say anything else.

He rolls over to his side, and as Hanji picks the pillow from her chest and puts it back to its place, strong arms circle her body, pulling her towards his chest. She complies easily, settling over the side of his body, she hugs his stomach, resting her cheek near his neck. Levi kisses her forehead, his warm lips lingering a second too long on her skin and then he pulls back, covering them both with the blanket. “Let’s make the best of it then.”

It's raining.

It’s the first thing her sleep-clouded mind notices even before she opens her eyes. She fights to at least lift her eyelids up just a fraction and through her misty gaze –both because of sleep and the lack of her glasses—she manages to pick out the dark sky painted with bleak clouds. The sound of the raindrops tapping against the glass is a beautiful melody, almost like a lullaby that is there to draw her back into sleep.

The arms that are wound around her middle tighten slightly, and in his sleep, he murmurs something unintelligible and buries his nose deeper into her neck. His chest rises and falls in a stable rhythm on her back, his warmth surrounds her, and her heart beats calmly as if it has found its place after it has walked through ruins and wracks to at last find peace in where it belonged to.

A smile easily curls her lips, and she presses her back against his chest, stealing more of his warmth. Then with the company of the rattling rain and Levi’s steady breaths she closes her eyes again letting sleep once more take her away.

It wasn’t a dream. That part, he is sure.

Levi watches her while she is deep in her sleep. The side of her face pressed upon the pillow, lips parted open, and hair disheveled all around. Without allowance, his fingers follow the lines of her cheekbone, her jaw, and her lips. A sigh escapes his lips when he thinks about all the things he had done and said yesterday. He had crossed a line, hadn’t he? Not one, he had crossed plenty. Yet when he searched for a bit of regret in his heart, he couldn’t find any.

He thinks about his mother and all the times she had practically begged him to go see Hanji or at least talk to her through his phone. Levi had always understood yet never made it clear that his mother had blamed herself for the two of them falling apart. More often than not he would find her staring at him sorrowfully, with eyes full of remorse and despair for she had no power in her hands to fix things. No matter how many times she had asked him to go he never had. He had promised himself that he would keep Hanji out of that mess, at all costs. He had told his mother as much. Told her that it was his decision, and she had no reason to blame herself for what happened. Levi never knew if his mother believed in him but after a while, she stopped asking.

He blinks back the tears that thinking about her had caused. Levi wonders if there will come a day when his chest won’t feel like it’s being crushed under a truck, or his heart being thrown right in the middle of a burning fire even at just the mere thought of her.

Hanji sighs in her sleep and wrinkles her body moving her cheek up and down on the pillow. It is a habit of hers, Levi recalls which makes him smile. She hadn’t changed much. Apart from the maturity and responsibility that being an adult had brought about her. Hanji is still Hanji. The brightest and sometimes the most foolish person he had ever met. Stars in her eyes and a galaxy in her mind. She had a universe in her heart. Big enough to fit millions inside.

A few more days is all he has and this time he promises himself that he won’t make the same mistake again. This might not be a dream, but reality still glues his feet to the ground preventing him from flying too high. She will be leaving, and he has to accept it soon as he can, or else the result would be nothing but heartbreak. And neither of them can afford that.

Trying his best not to make so much noise so that she doesn’t wake up he gets up from the bed. Although it isn’t raining currently the sky seems dark through the curtains. So, leaning over he pulls the blanket up to cover her shoulders in case she feels cold. Then, because he is weak, the weakest person on the goddamn earth, he reaches out with his hand and touches her cheek with the back of his fingers. Featherlight but enough to feel her heat. And when she turns her head just barely towards his touch and her lips shape a smile so beautiful his poor, broken mess of a heart squeezes painfully inside his ribcage.

He thinks he doesn’t deserve this much happiness however short-lived it will be. Yet he is selfish and greedy, and he will use it to its very last bit.

Swallowing hard he retreats his hand and walks away from the bed to leave the bedroom.

He is flipping over the pancakes when Hanji steps into the kitchen, yawning and her head a mess as the clothes Levi had given her last night. One leg of her pants dragged up almost to her knee while the shoulder of her t-shirt looks like it’s about to slip down. His lips curl upwards without his consent, and he looks away when he realizes his heart picked up a pace that is not good neither for his physical nor mental health.

“Mmm smells delicious,” she murmurs, coming to stand next to him. She picks one of the pancakes that are stiffed on top of each other on a plate in her hand and takes a huge bite. “Taste delicious too,” she says hoarsely, mouth full.

“Finish your mouth first, you barbarian,” Levi admonishes her. Using the spatula in his hand he carries the cooked pancakes to the plate and adds the last remnants of the dough to the pan.

“You’re as cheerful as ever,” Hanji deadpans and shoves the rest of the pancake in her mouth. Levi twists his lips, disgusted. “My little sunshine.”

“Shut it,” he dismisses her. But he has to admit, this little back and forth, the bickering between them feels nostalgic yet so natural that it soothes all his worries and wipes all the anxiety he has been feeling lately away.

Hanji ignores him and stretches her arms above her head, groaning. “I haven’t slept this much for ages.” Then when she lowers her arms, they land on Levi’s shoulders, and instantly she is so close he can smell the faint scent of her skin. “It wasn’t a terrible idea, after all, was it?”

He glances at her sideways and struggles to keep his expression neutral when he sees her bright eyes and sweet smile. She waits for an answer and Levi doesn’t know if he can give her one. Sleeping with Hanji in her arms, her smell on the tip of his nose had been his dream for years. He had given an intense fight against this desire, to give up on it and forget her altogether. Needless to say, he has failed, miserably so.

And to know that that dark and deep desire of his had finally become reality is the best thing that had ever happened to him in the last few years. However, it was a terrible idea because now that he knows what it feels like to have her snuggled against him, her body fitting his perfectly he wants more and more and more. And the truth is he can’t and so he doesn’t have the answer Hanji is still waiting for.

She frowns as if she has sensed whatever chaos going on inside his head yet just as she opens her mouth to possibly question him a noise distracts them.

Hanji startles and looks around the kitchen to find the source of the noise. Not much later she finds it on top of the kitchen island, and it turns out it is her phone that has been ringing.

“Who could it be?” she murmurs to herself as she hurries to pick it up. Meanwhile, a smell that resembles suspiciously to burnt pancakes reaches his nose and he stares down back at the pan with panic to see the worst-case scenario happening right in front of his eyes. “Damn it,” he whispers sharply and turns off the stove, carrying the pan somewhere else along with the deceased pancakes.

“Mr. Jeager?” Hanji speaks to the phone while he takes the plate full of pancakes to the kitchen island. Jeager? Isn’t it the owner of the Jeager Space Administration thus, Hanji’s boss? Why does he call her on her day off?

“Ah, Hanji,” comes the man’s dusty voice from the other end of the line. Levi doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, he doesn’t really, but he happens to as he silently picks a seat around the table which also happens to be next to where Hanji stands with a confused expression on her face. “Sorry to call you like this. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Of course not,” Hanji reassures. Levi doesn’t know the man, yet his smug voice irritates him. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says, and they exchange a look with Hanji. His narrowed stare is suspicious, while her eyes are round and full of questions. “I’ve heard that you visited my brother from Armin. Just wanted to ask you how he was doing.”

“Oh,” finally the confusion leaves her face, and she looks relaxed. Even a little smile shapes on her lips. “Right, yes. He was doing pretty okay, I guess. I didn’t see anything wrong.”

“Great,” comes the reply. “Heard he helped you find your friend?”

“Yes, he did.” Hanji smiles at Levi, her eyes twinkling. “I am more than grateful. I owe him a lot.”

“He owes you more so don’t mention it,” the man quickly closes the matter. “How is your vacation?”

“Pretty goo—”

“Oh, for god’s sake, leave the girl alone!” A female voice interrupts and Hanji seems kind of surprised, blinking her eyes.

“Was that Pieck?” she asks.

“Yes, she wishes for me to leave you alone. But we were just chatting—”

“Hello, Hanji,” the female voice, Pieck, seemingly takes over the phone. “And goodbye. I’d love to talk to you longer but I’m guessing you’re busy.”

“Well…”

“I’ll talk to you later,” she cuts her sentence. “And sorry for that inconsiderate boss of yours.”

“It’s fine,” Hanji giggles. “I’ll see you in a few days, Pieck.”

Afterward, she hangs up the phone and smiles at him somewhat timidly. “Sorry.”

“Was that your boss?” Levi asks, trying not to reflect the irritation in his voice.

“Yes,” Hanji replies and takes a seat next to him. “And Pieck is my co-worker, but she and Zeke are old friends.”

“Zeke?”

“Yeah, his first name.” She picks up her phone, scrolling through her photos, and shows him a picture of a blond, bearded man with ridiculous glasses and a long, black-haired woman next to him.

“He looks like a monkey,” Levi points out, as it is the first thing that had come to his mind upon his first glance at the phone screen. Hanji seems startled upon his observation. She even turns the screen to herself to examine the picture.

Then inevitably her cheerful laughter feels the kitchen. “Oh my God, Levi!” she doubles over, holding her stomach with one arm. “Now there is no way I can look at him without thinking that he—he—”

“Looks like a hairy, dirty, and stinky beast?”

She laughs harder and has to wipe her eyes at some point. Levi feels somewhat proud of making her laugh like that. He had missed that sound so much he wants to hear more of it. But he also doesn’t understand the reason why he resented a man he doesn’t even know.

But doesn’t he really? That man might look like a pathetic, idiotic animal but he had the privilege to see and talk and work with Hanji every day. So, in that kind of hierarchy, he is above Levi, no matter how much he despises the thought.

“Why does he call you on your day off?” He questions after Hanji’s laughter subdues and she cleans her face with a tissue.

She shrugs, “He said he wanted to ask me about his brother—they don’t get along well--. His name is Eren. He helped me find you.”

“I don’t like you being indebted to that man,” he says, gloomily.

“He is not that kind of a man,” Hanji, for whatever reason, defends him. “But—why are you being so prejudiced against him? He is not that bad.”

“He sounded a little intimate for a boss,” he states. Then a thought comes to his mind and his whole-body freezes. “Are you two—”

“No,” Hanji cuts him off, thank fuck, before he finishes the sentence. “He is my boss. I rejected him way too many times now.”

“Oh, so he did ask you out?” Levi asks the question before he even had a chance to reconsider it. And the way he sounded as the words left his mouth…. Well, fuck.

Just as he had feared, Hanji puts her elbow on the kitchen island and rests her cheek on her palm, eyes shining mischievously signaling danger. “Why? You jealous?”

He huffs and turns his head away swiftly. He wouldn’t tell it out loud, but he is, damn it. Of course, he is jealous of every man that is lucky enough to have her all to himself. “No,” he says but it sounds more like, yes, and I would like to kill the bastard, please tell me where he lives.

“I went out with a boy during college, for about a year,” Hanji, surprisingly, changes the subject, making Levi look back at her curiously. She is staring at the surface of the kitchen island, eyes lost behind a mist of memories. “He was sweet and loyal, but he was a little bit naïve, you know what I mean? And I did like him, but I don’t think it was love. And we wanted different things too. Like he wished to get married and have children right after college, and I… I couldn’t do that, you know, Levi? I had so many dreams and I was so young. I think he just never understood where I came from. He thought I didn’t want him in my life, so he left me the day we graduated,” she laughs like she genuinely finds it funny.

Even though it surprises him, he snorts, “Douchebag.”

“Yeah, he kind of was,” Hanji smiles, and shrugs.” It’s alright though, it was for the best. It would’ve never worked out. The sooner I moved on the better.”

“What about later?” Levi asks, unable to stop himself.

“Huh?”

“After college. Have you found what you have been looking for?”

Hanji stares at his eyes, his smile fading and eyes full of meaning he cannot figure out. “No, I haven’t,” she replies quietly. And she holds his gaze for a while like she wants to say more but doesn’t know how. Levi waits, expectation grabs his heart and shakes it fiercely. He doesn’t even know what he waits to hear, what he wishes to hear but doesn’t matter. Because Hanji doesn’t say anything in the end. Her eyes are carried somewhere else; she sighs.

Right, what has he been expecting anyway? Time is ticking, hours are limited, and they had no time to waste.

“Let’s eat,” he says, dispensing the dreary atmosphere. “I have somewhere to take you.”

The cemetery is unwontedly peaceful. The smell of after rain encircles them from all around. The wind is howling every now and then, making the bushes and the trees rustle. On the gravestone they are standing before is written the name of the woman who is so unfairly buried under. Kuchel Ackerman.

Levi places a bucket of tulips, his mother’s favourites, in front of the stone. Then he kneels, his fingers touching the cold marble as if he is caressing his mother’s hair, so gently and tenderly that it becomes impossible to stop the tears from blurring her vision.

“I haven’t been here since the funeral,” he says, to her, to his mother, or to himself she doesn’t know. “Isn’t it a little cold in here, mom?”

Two drops of tear land on the ground and she presses trembling lips hard on each other so that she doesn’t start sobbing and steal the moment he should—need—to have to himself.

“I’m sorry,” his sounds hoarse, like he is on the verge of tears which makes her throat go tight, and dig her nails into her palms. She doesn’t know what he is apologizing for but the word spills out from his mouth like it is meant for more than a single thing. “I’ve never listened to you when you wanted me to go see her,” he chuckles, tearily and his voice gets quiet when he continues, “So, I brought her to you.”

Hanji looks up, surprised, to see Levi smiling at her from where he kneels. His eyes are shining with unshed tears. And Hanji cannot hold back anymore. She takes a step forward, reaching out to him.

He reacts instantly, standing up he lets her circle her arms around him and to pull him tight against her. He presses his lips on her shoulder, whereas Hanji hides her tears on his neck, his coat crumpling inside her fists.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Hanji thinks about all the times Levi had held her like this when she was broken and sad when she didn’t understand how to cope with things that were on her way and didn’t know how to breathe when she felt like she was a puzzle piece that belonged to nowhere. A surplus, a lost part no one felt the need to search for. No one but him.

And yet he had kept her together all the same. Never let her feel like she was a nuisance even though she was always so loud and so unnecessarily excited about everything. Despite her being his exact opposite, he had always been there, holding her, her hand, her soul, and her heart.

“Always,” she says, sniffling and leaning her cheek on his hair. “To the last syllable of recorded time, remember?”

His laugh which is more akin to a sob is muffled. But his shoulders shake, and she feels him nod.

And she smiles. It’s a promise.

Next, they go to Kenny.

Levi is tense when they both are waiting for the door to be open. Hanji bites her lip; she doesn’t know what to expect from this unison of an uncle and his nephew who had both lost someone precious to the both of them. Knowing the two men’s nature, she doesn’t dare to hope for even a slightly sentimental one though.

When the door opens, frantically, just after seconds Levi pressed the bell, Kenny stares at his nephew, eyes stern and unbending and Levi responds to his stare head-on. Lips pressed, and face muscles tense. Hanji feels like she is watching a ticking bomb and there is very little time for it to eventually explode. And as Kenny lifts one of his arms and extends it towards Levi she holds her breath, ready to push Levi out of the way in case Kenny aims a punch at his face.

But he doesn’t. Instead, the hand he is extending forward grabs Levi by the collar and in one swift motion pulls him to his himself. Arms tight around his shoulders, Kenny presses his nephew to his chest.

“Brat,” Kenny hisses but he looks like he has lifted a tone of weight off his shoulders. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Levi stands still for a handful of seconds, possibly shocked by his uncle’s unexpected gesture. In the end, slowly, very slowly he lifts his hands and hugs him back. And even though Hanji can see it’s a bit reluctant she knows that deep down he appreciates it.

When she smiles, Kenny catches her eyes and mouths, “Thank you.” Grinning widely, Hanji gives him a thumbs up.

Not long after, though it’s equal to an eternity given his cold nature, Levi pulls back, grunting. “Take your dirty hands off me, you stink.”

“I smell better than that cheap cologne you seem to be obsessed with,” Kenny snaps.

Levi stills, his mouth opening wide. “It’s not cheap,” he retorts. “And you had said you liked it!”

“Yeah yeah. Sorry to break your little heart. Come on in. We don’t want our Hanji to be frozen over there, do we?”

Levi stares at her as if he has forgotten that she has been there. And his face turns slightly red. “Does it smell that bad?” He asks, hopeful, and perturbed at the same time.

Hanji barely contains her laughter inside. He looks so worried. “Not at all.”

“Tell me the truth,” he insists as they both step inside the house. Kenny closes the door behind them, and they share a brief glance. Kenny winks, amused at the way he had annoyed his nephew.

“I swear it’s not that bad.”

Now he seems even more troubled. “So, it’s not good?”

“Levi, come on. You always smell clean,” Hanji reassures him and pats him on the shoulder. “You’re good.”

At that, he narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe a word that leaves her mouth and clicks his tongue, annoyed. Then he takes off his coat and pushes it on his uncle’s hands. “For the record,” he says, glaring him dead in the eyes. “I still hate you.”

Kenny doesn’t even blink. “You and me both.”

Afterwards Levi turns around and Kenny and Hanji watch him walk down the hall, murmuring something under his breath they both cannot hear. Then they look at each other briefly before Hanji breaks down into a fit of laughter.

“He’ll never change, that brat,” Kenny says, chuckling.

“He better not,” Hanji adds. “We like him the way he is.”

During dinner, Kenny fills four glasses with wine, placing one of them in front of the empty seat on his left.

“Cheers, sis,” he says shortly before raising his glass towards the empty seat and swallows the liquid in one go.

Levi stares ahead, right where his mother should be but is hollow instead. Even after they start eating and having casual conversations about mundane things, his eyes remain focused on that one seat and the wine glass that hasn’t lowered a sip.

Her heart aches, knowing that there is no way she can take away his pain. He has to adapt, one way or the other. It might take time and it will, but Hanji knows that he is strong enough to bare it. Both mentally and physically. Nevertheless, they are human, and an earthquake might shake even the sturdiest of buildings. So, she will be there whenever he needs a helping hand.

Under the table she nudges his knee, making him look at her curiously. Hanji doesn’t say anything, but she smiles and somehow it is enough to ease his shoulders and lift the corners of his lips upwards.

He nudges her knee back as an answer and finally takes a bite from his food that he hasn’t touched yet and keeps his leg pressed against hers.

They stay like that for the rest of the dinner.

Hanji hugs Kenny briefly before they leave his house. He pats her back softly and tells her to come back soon. Hanji promises that she will, and Levi cannot help but let the flower of hope blossom in his heart like a lotus.

As Hanji waves and walks to his car, Kenny grabs his arm and Levi searches his eyes, wondering what he has to say. “Take good care of her,” he advises, grievously. “She needs you as much as you need her, brat. Mark my words. Don’t just let her go.”

If it were any other time he would scowl and ignore his uncle, saying he had no right to meddle in his life. But this time it is different. He can see that Kenny is serious and waits for an equally honest answer. “I won’t,” he says, determined.

Only after seeing the resolution in his eyes does Kenny let go of his arm. “You take care of yourself too,” he crosses his arms. “And don’t disappear on me like that again or I’ll break your legs.”

Levi rolls his eyes and waves him off briefly before turning around to join Hanji.

The next two days Levi takes her on a quick and admittedly insufficient tour around Rose. It’s a big city so naturally, it is nearly impossible to fit each and every place to visit into just two days. For every place they had skipped to not lose any unnecessary time, Hanji told him that next time they would go. And that word, the hidden promise behind it seemed to lighten up his features.

Towards the evening of her last night in Rose, they go to the rooftop Hanji had found Levi in. Hanji had initiated the idea thinking that it would be nice to reminisce about their younger years. Thankfully Levi had agreed upon realizing her keenness.

“Aah, good old days,” she croons sitting on the ground cross-legged. Levi sits next to her, pressing their shoulders. Hanji leans on him, to share his warmth. He hands her over the snacks they had bought before coming here and a packet of chocolate milk.

She grins widely and starts drinking it with appetite. The taste leaves a nostalgic feeling on her tongue, and with the stars and moon above and her best friend right beside it almost feels like they are teenagers again.

“I miss our rooftop,” she sighs. “It’s been years.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees, drinking from his soda. He swallows and seems hesitant before he starts, “We should…” He searches her eyes, looking for something, maybe encouragement and willingness, and then goes on. “We can go sometime. If you’d like to.”

She beams at him and nudges his shoulder. As if she wouldn’t. “Of course, I’d love to.”

Afterwards they simply talk. About work, about their university years, they remember their past days, the old friendships, people who are now just a memory, or places that are pushed back into their minds but still carry their value in their hearts. Hanji mentions Erwin, who has married two months ago, and Levi scoffs because he hadn’t invited him to his wedding and Hanji laughs as if he has ever been so eager to see him.

Stars are bright, and vivid, and the moon is thin and welcoming. It almost feels like home with Levi beside her. His face is tranquil, the softest of smiles on his lips, his eyes argent with a touch of blue. His body is strong and real not a memory, not a dream. Hanji thinks he is beautiful. Then wonders how she had been so stupid enough to understand that what made her heart flutter when she looked at him was not the handsome shape of his features which everybody with eyes could see. But because he was her home, her safe place. That is why right now even on top of a derelict building she is not familiar with, her heart is content because he is here with her.

Levi points out the sky with his index finger to show her a shooting star. She watches it with a smile on her face and resting her head on his shoulder she makes a wish.

Please stay with me even when the sky is empty of stars.

“Gosh, for real,” Hanji pulls her hair, frustrated. “Why the hell do I keep losing things?”

“What is it now?” Levi asks, raising his brows.

Putting her hands on either side of her waist, Hanji huffs, standing in the middle of the living room and eyes searching madly around. “I can’t find my charger.”

Since they returned home about an hour ago, she has been in a hurry to collect her things because her plane is at ten in the morning. Levi wants to help but doesn’t really feel like it. Would a lost charger make her stay longer? Probably not. But it is worth a shot.

“Maybe it’s in the bedroom?” Levi asks, reluctant.

Hanji sighs. “Already checked,” she clicks her tongue. “But I’ll check again.”

Levi follows her fast steps into the bedroom, his heart weight heavy in his chest. He has been thinking of ways to accidentally make her stay for a few more days. Like maybe ripping away her plane ticket, or hiding her suitcase, or maybe throwing her phone out of the window—

“I swear I’m gonna lose it,” she bemoans checking the drawers of the bedside table. “Where the hell have I put it?”

Levi decides, against his better judgment, that it is best to at least look like he is helping her. A pissed-off Hanji is a scary thing he doesn’t want to face right now. So, he crouches to look under the bed and wrinkles his nose at the side of the dust that has been collecting for a few days, or almost a week. He couldn’t have found time enough to do a proper cleanup.

He doesn’t find her charger, but he finds a pair of her ridiculous socks she had worn only once and forgotten about later. And when he gets up and continues his fake search, he sees a black hair tie next to her earrings on one of the shelves. And the book she had brought with her is on his bedside table, half-read, unfinished. She had read it to him at night to help him fall asleep. It had been so easy for sleep to invade his mind when her voice filled his ears, and her fingers caressed his hair. Within merely a number of days how he had gotten so used to her presence when during the years she hadn’t been in his life, his heart and soul had failed to accept that absence? How he had been so foolish enough to let himself get carried away? Even though he knew from the start that it was to happen within just days. How had he forgotten that the time was always so merciless when it was filled with joy and happiness?

“I can’t find my earrings too, aah,” she grunts, laying her head backward. “I hate it when this happens. Zeke’s gonna kill me if I miss that plane.”

He cannot ask her to stay. He wants to, God knows he dies to do so, but he cannot bring himself to be that selfish towards her. But when will he see her again? She had promised to come back but how her work is going to allow her to do that? As for him, he had already taken a week off and because of his mother, he had used most of his annual leave already. When will they find time enough to see each other? What is he going to do now that he knows what her warm breath felt like on his skin, how his face fitted on the curl of her neck, and what she looked like in the mornings? Peaceful, soft, and beautiful.

He is a fool, isn’t he? He is the goddamn fool of the century. An idiot who cannot let go when he needs to. A desperate, useless man who has a bottle filled with poisonous water in his hand and despite knowing that it will kill him, or worse it will make him suffer and so he has to, he needs to turn the bottle over end pour the water out he does the opposite.

Because he is so thirsty, he is going to die anyway. He just chooses the more painful death.

“Hanji,” he says, heart beating so loud he fears he won’t be able to hear her when she answers. She stares at him, her face flushed, eyes fiery and hair disheveled all because she couldn’t find a goddamn charger.

His lips tremble. And he needs to stop, he knows, he is so fucking aware but—

Don’t just let her go.

“I’m going to do something very stupid,” he declares.

He has been expecting her to look confused, or curious yet she snorts, her eyes leaving him to continue her idle search around the room. “Don’t you dare steal my role, clean freak. It’s my job to do stupid things.”

He inhales through his nose, “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, Hanji.”

Now she is dumbfounded, eyes wide behind her glasses and she looks so ridiculous and so painfully pretty. He knows the moment he had laid his eyes on her that first night it had been over for him.

It’s ironic, compared to the long, seemingly everlasting thoughts and possibilities, and things that he is most possibly going to fuck up in his mind, it takes merely two steps, and hundreds of heartbeats to close the distance between them, hold her face with his hands and press his lips to hers.

It merely lasts for a handful of seconds, yet it is enough to set his skin on fire. His heartbeat is still so loud he barely even hears his own thoughts which are a growing list of basically him trying to comprehend what he is doing at the moment.

I am kissing Hanji. I am kissing my best friend.

Then as if he has been struck by a jolt of lightning he jumps back, because he realizes that Hanji hasn’t been responding. They both stare at each other with shocked eyes and red faces. Even worse, she stands rigid, her hands curled up as fists and shoulders tense. And right then a fear so profound creeps its seed into his heart and it grows so quickly that he feels it even on the tips of his fingers.

He closes his eyes then, tightly. And opens his lips to apologize, and if necessary, beg for forgiveness.

But just then he feels the smooth, almost timid touch of lips on his own, and then her hands cradle his face. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes afraid that if he does the moment will be over like a mirage in a desert. He lets her apply more pressure, her lips are hot, and her hands are trembling. And Levi can relate, really, for his whole body, his very own soul is shivering like a thin paper. Maybe, he ponders, he might have thought or even dreamt about kissing Hanji before but none of that could be compared to this now. To say that it feels like an otherworldly experience would be an understatement. He feels like he has been for his whole life for this very moment.

And damn him, and his inability to think rationally and his lack of self-control. Damn him for choosing Macbeth and letting those goddamn lines stick with him for more than a decade. Damn his deep and dark desires to resurface now of all times, exactly when they shouldn’t.

Hanji starts to pull back slowly and almost immediately his mind rings alarm bells. How can he let her go now that he had tasted that poison and knows that it is sweet like honey and addicting like a drug?

Snaking an arm around her waist he presses her body against his and tilts his head so that he takes control, deepening the kiss. Their chests move almost in sync, up and down so fast there is no pause in between their thick breaths. When he pushes his tongue between her lips and tastes the chocolate milk on her tongue an unwilling sound escapes him, and he feels the shudder that travels throughout her body.

The timidness and shyness pack up and leaves after a few brushes of his tongue. Hanji scraps her nails on his scalp, both arms around his neck. There is hunger in her touch, in the way she leans her body on his and in the way her tongue meets his, and in the little gasps and whines he manages to pull out from her lips. Levi responds with an equal or maybe more but not less hunger of his own. His hands trying to keep her impossibly closer, he runs his palms up and down her back, all the while fighting against the urge to travel them further down or place one of them under her—his—t-shirt to feel the hotness of her skin on his fingertips.

Can he? Would she let him go that far? Should they go that far? He doesn’t know, he cannot think straight when her mouth leaves his to press kisses along the line of his jaw and his neck. He throws his head back, eyes misty and head dizzy. “Hanji,” he gasps, and he means it as a warning, but it sounds much more like a plea. “Maybe—m-maybe we should—”

She rocks her body against his before letting him finish his sentence, pressing upon his currently overly sensitive areas and his whole world turns around him like a carousel. Groaning he lets his head fall on her shoulder. “Fuck.”

“I think we should,” she says, and he hears the amusement in her voice, and he feels so damn annoyed because how can she enjoy his torment like that? “Go on, I mean.”

His nails dig into her sides. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

“But it would be so romantic, don’t you think?” Even though he cannot see her he can imagine her smirk as she goes on with her next words, “You know like ‘Those violent night has violent ends,’”

He groans, out of pure annoyance this time. “Hanji—”

“And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,” she recites, hardly suppressing her laughter.

“Hanji, I swear if you finish that sentence—”

“Which, as they kiss, consume,” she finishes ignoring him and his inefficient threats. She laughs heartily then, her body shakes between his arms.

He holds his head up and stares at her bright smile and just because he can, he kisses her hard on the lips. “Fucking Shakespeare,” he murmurs.

“Careful, you’re talking about a legend.”

“That legend won’t take you to bed right now,” he places his hands on her hips and lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist just in time. Their faces are centimeters apart when he whispers against her lips, “I will.”

Levi is gentle. Not that it is a fact she had learned about him just now, yet this is a different side of his kindness. His touch is smooth, yet possessive. He is extra cautious when he helps her take off her clothes one by one. Then his eyes take in the shape of her body so intently it makes her muscles twitch. His lips are hot as they touch each part of her skin that is free from its layers. She bites her lips when he presses his lips on her inner thigh, one and the other. She gasps for air when his mouth lands on the centre of her desire, making her arch her body. The sheets are a crumpled mess inside her fists and on the ceiling, she sees galaxies rather than plain darkness. His name on her lips repeated like a prayer. Levi, Levi, Levi.

Afterwards she lies there out of breath and with misty eyes, she watches him throw off his clothes. Her eyes drink in his fine shape. She sits up with a growing need to touch him. He shudders and closes his eyes when Hanji moves her knuckles on his bare abdomen, tracing the lines of his muscles as if he is savouring her touch. She presses her palms on his chest and feels the radiations of how quickly his heart is beating. She leaves open-mouthed kisses along his torso, and he whispers her name over and over as her touch travels down and he has to grip the covers to not lose his balance.

But he stops her with a gentle hand that grabs her hair. Then he brings her face closer to kiss her on the lips. She moves to straddle his hips, sliding her palms along his back, feeling his smooth skin without parting their mouths. He grabs her hips, his touch is firm, his thumbs caressing her skin. When they part, gasping, Hanji rests her forehead against his. “I wanna do this right,” Levi whispers.

He sounds concerned and she wants to take away all of his worries, and his hurt to the last drop of pain that paints his soul red, and his heart blue. So, Hanji kisses his nose, his brow, cheeks, and forehead. “It’s just me Levi,” she tells him, kissing the side of his lips. “It’s just you,” she kisses his chin. Holding his face between her palms, she leaves a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s just us.”

Because this moment already feels right, there is nothing else he should do. Sighing as if he has relaxed, Levi nods and places fevering kisses on her neck as he lies her down on the bed so tenderly that it almost brings tears to her eyes. Leaving a gentle kiss on her forehead, he places himself between her legs. His stare never leaves hers, now almost dark with lust but she sees her childhood in his eyes, in every corner of his face. Her thumbs move along the raise of his cheekbones, his eyelashes flutter and he kisses her palm.

And then the tenderness slowly retreats. Levi laces their fingers above her head with a tight grip and captures her lips with a passionate kiss, groaning into her mouth just as he enters her, swallowing her desperate moans. He moves inside her with careful strokes at first which later turn into hard and swift thrusts that make her go blind with desire. And even after the loud noises and ragged breaths, turn to soft and satisfied sighs he doesn’t let go of her hands.

And neither does she.

“We’re planning on launching a rocket to space,” Hanji tells Levi, as she plays with his hair, raven strands slip through her fingers like silk. She had always wondered if they were as soft as they looked. They are, she muses, smiling to herself. "It'll take a few years though."

Levi hums in response, shuffling to make himself more comfortable on her chest. The morning light creeps through the curtains, creating glittering patterns on the floor while they lie there, a tangled mess under the sheets. All but loose muscles and lazy strokes on each other’s skin. “Look how far you’ve come,” he says, attempting to sound serious but fails to do so for a mocking smile curls his lips.

Hanji pinches his shoulder, and he grunts, squeezing her thigh. “Four-eyes…”

“What?”

Pulling his head slightly back he looks at her, eyes cautious, searching. His lips part open, and she can see that he is thinking, debating on whether to say whatever he wants to say or not. Her heart beats speed up as expectation builds up in her stomach. Because deep down she knows she wants him to say the word. Even if she cannot do it. And she wants to tell him to come with her. Even though she knows he can’t.

In the end, what leaves his lips is a mere sigh and nothing else. And she smiles, raising a hand to brush his cheek. He closes his eyes then when she leans closer to give him a slow kiss on the lips he welcomes it, his arm tightening its hold around her waist.

“Let’s keep in touch,” he breathes against her mouth when pull apart.

Hanji raises her brows to see if he is being serious and, in his eyes, she sees that he is. Very much so. She beams at him, “Deal.”

“I can visit you in Sina when I have time.”

Her breath hitches in her throat. “Really?”

“Yeah, and I’ll text you too,” he goes on. “You’ll probably forget.”

“I won’t!”

“You will, weirdo. You’re launching a rocket into space. You’ll forget that I even exist.”

Hanji gasps, offended. “How could you say that?”

“Because I know you so well,” he smiles, carelessly. As if they had all the time in the world.

“That you do,” she giggles. “Oh, and I don't have enough money to you know, open a coffee in the name of you but—”

A hand clasps her mouth, muffling the rest of her sentence. “Don’t say another word.”

Hanji wraps her fingers around his wrists, and he miraculously lets her pull his hand down. “Why not? I was so touched.”

He pinches her side and she yelps. “Is this a joke to you, idiot?”

“Not at all, grumpy,” she kisses the space between his brows, smoothening the frown with her thumb. “But you don’t need to worry,” she gives him a reassuring smile. “I’ll text you all the time. I’ll text you so much you’ll block me and then I’ll find other ways to bother you.”

“Like jumping on a plane and flying to Rose?”

She laughs, “That too.”

“Then I’ll block you right away,” Levi says, determined.

“But you’re ruining all the fun!” she whines. “At least wait until you see my mind-blowing memes.”

“Mind-blowing?” he raises a brow. “More like mind-numbing?”

“I can’t believe I’ve been friends with you for all these years,” Hanji shakes her head, disappointed. “You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”

Despite all his great affords, he laughs. Heartfelt. “Dumbass.”

She presses her lips on his forehead, breathing in his fresh smell. And it feels like she is breathing in the scent of her youth. In her mind, she sees the cheerful girl and the sulky boy, hand in hand in cold winter streets, under the moon, and on the road between the autumn trees. “Yours truly, clean freak.”

A few months later

He is not texting back.

No doubt, even though she hasn’t averted her eyes from the phone there is no notification coming from a certain, grumpy, clean freak that brightens her screen. She has to leave it at some point when her break is inevitably over yet until then she waits and waits. In vain.

“Hah,” she mutters, taking the phone in her hand, and sliding it open to search for any possible texts she might have missed for good measure. “And he was saying I would forget.”

Not that she is so bitter. Not entirely. He must have good reasons to not reply to her since… well since yesterday. And frankly, she doesn’t know whether to be worried or to be annoyed at being ignored for that long.

“Hanji, a little help over here!”

Seems like her break is already over. Sighing she puts her phone in the pocket of her trousers and goes back to work.

The next day, still no news from him except for an “I’m alive, geez,” message upon her constant texts and calls that obviously managed to bother him to that extent. She tries not to dwell too much on it. It’s Levi, after all. He can’t run away from her forever.

“I swear I’ll dig your grave, Ackerman,” Hanji furiously taps on her screen, so much so that literal flames are about to rise from the force of it. Because it’s almost a week and he still hasn’t contacted her, either via text or phone call. And she is growing a little concerned and admittedly overly angry.

So, unable to control that anger she taps another text, “I’ll cut your—”

“Hanji,” a voice that belongs to her beloved boss stops her halfway from sending him a very threatening text. Hanji looks up from her phone, alarmed, to be caught in the act during work.

“Yes?”

Fortunately, Zeke doesn’t seem very much suspicious or mad. Though it’s hard to see the man with such sentiments. He is generally quite laid back. “A minute please?”

“Ah, sure,” Hanji hurriedly stands up from her chair to follow her boss through the halls that lead to his room.

“Everything alright?” he asks, eying her. “You seem… frustrated.”

Of course, he had noticed. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little stressed lately.”

He hums, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle with humour. “You won’t ask for another day off, will you?”

Startled at first, Hanji chuckles soon after, shaking her head. “No, no need for that.”

“Good,” he says as he opens the door to his room. “Because we have a new employer and I expect you to be on good terms with him that is if you aren’t already,” he winks and invites her inside. “Meet your new team member.”

The moment her eyes follow the direction of where he is pointing with his hand, her whole body jerks with shock, and an uncontrollable gasp escapes her mouth before she can avoid it. So much for being a professional in front of her boss.

But how can she not when who stands in front of her clad in his black suit is the one only Levi Ackerman?

Her Levi.

“What?” She blinks, to make sure he is not a daydream while Levi simply smiles calmly at her yet in his eyes there is victory. The victory of having caught her off guard. I won this time.

“Levi Ackerman, our new aerospace engineer,” Zeke explains, not affected by her apparent bewilderment. “And this is Hanji Zoe, our space scientist. You’ll be working together from now on.”

That single sentence which to him means nothing while to the two other people in the room it means that a mutual childhood dream finally becomes reality swarms her heart and fills it to the brim. If only there was a way to reach out to that little girl now, to wipe away all of her tears and wrap her arms around her thin body and say that it’s okay, you’ll find him.

And he will find you.

Levi walks closer to her, a hand outstretched, that smile still in place. The same one that melts her heart and brushes her soul. My love, she thinks, my only true friend.

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” his eyes twinkle like he hides the whole sky in them. And she is sure, she will never get tired of watching its colours. “Four-eyes.”

A smile so big parts her lips and ultimately, she feels at ease. She lifts up one hand to shake his, looking into his eyes. “Likewise, clean freak.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #final #:')

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alolanroy · 1 month

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2024 Watch Thread Part 5

part 4 https://www.tumblr.com/alolanroy/753737344319930369/2024-watch-thread-part-4?source=share

Berserk Boy: At a certain point I realized I hadn't played it in a month. I think the gameplay is alright, but that's about it. The sprite scaling looks weird and the character design doesn't gel with the Megaman ZX sensibilities. Terrible hoverbike section. 5/10

Warcraft: Putting the Mid in Middle Earth. Without the context of the series, I was never engaged by the movie. The humans were bland and the story felt less interested in a complete story than a beachhead for a franchise. 5/10

Half Life: Blue Shift: Glad I participated in the community event to boost this old game's all-time player count. As a game it didn't really wow me. I think it was overreliant on barrel pushing puzzles when barrel pushing doesn't work well in a few instances. Dispite a few baffling bugs that cost me maybe a combines 25 minutes, it was a quick and enjoyable romp. 6/10

Skyrim: Sirenroot: This may be the most atmospheric mod I've played thus far. This mod makes this one dungeon more gorgeous than anything in the base game by far, and the music sets a really spooky tome. I like that I didn't immediately catch what was going on with the multiple-character paths. While it doesn't equate to any kind of tangible reward, the characters are interesting enough that getting everyone to survive is intrinsically rewarding enough. 8/10

Skyrim: Wyrmstooth: It might be reductive to refer to it as just 'more skyrim' but that opinion congealed when I was stuck doing blackreach again. Some of the quests are fun, but some of the unmarked ones deserved to be marked quests. 6/10

DanDaDan (3 episode premier): I knew nothing about DanDaDan going into this since I was invited by a friend. PEAK. It's understandable how much hay the preroll interviews made about the direction and shot composition. 8/10

Iron Warrior: While I wouldn't say this film was altogether entertaining, the ethereal visuals and dream logic made it a unique watch. I'd like to watch a cut of this without any dialogue, since its story is mostly visuals until the lore-heavy last sprint. Honestly, we gotta put Trogar in a Star Wars, this guy is pure Sith. 6/5/10

Bleach Thousand Year Blood War S1-2: This all-killer-no-filler approach to a bleach adaptation is a real brisk shower after muscling through the Arancar arc. However, some of the fights feel a little too short. It betrays that some of them consist of a handful of attacks and prescribed reversals of fortune. Especially towards the end, I could feel the series sputter as characters the viewer aren't super invested in square off. Points for the great soundtrack. 7/10

Mars Daybreak: A great premise and fun initial hints at worldbuilding got me in, but the energy left my body as it went nowhere. We never really get to know the cast in any meaningful way and there's charitably one character arc. Nothing gets resolved only in the last two episodes to they rush to figure out what they're doing. The robots are sauceless. Theres enough endearing material, but I regret committing to finishing it 5.10

This is Spinal Tap: my watch group didn’t have context going in, so the first few minutes of trying to figure out of this was a mockumentary was a real treasure. While prone to dry spells, when it hits, it hits. 7/10

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echologname · 8 months

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Deception red flags🚩

If you are unhappy, confused, the things you say and do are hurting your relationships with family, you're angry, you think what you think is good but let me ask you, then why are you scared or feeling guilty and bitter? If everything's "fine" then why do you feel like you're losing your mind? Why does your stress never stay away and keeps coming back to kick you down?

These things are NOT from God. God IS love, He brings joy and peace to those who trust in Him.

The Enemy wants to use you to do their work, to sin, and doesn't care how much it hurts you and you'll feel hurt SPIRITUALLY, i.e. mentally and emotionally. Your mental health is in the gutter and your heart in pieces.

Please, this is a serious situation. It leads to sin which hurts Jesus because He has to pay the price for it and it hurts your spirit too. Whenever you lie, even a little, He bleeds so that you will be forgiven. And if He's within you, you feel that pain too. Please don't hurt the One who loves you, stays with you, protects you and heals you. Please don't forget who was with you when no one else was. Please don't forget every prayer He's ever answered and every ailment He's ever healed.

If you're experiencing ANY of these things right now, please pray to God. 🚩 If you feel like you don't want to, that's the Enemy trying to keep you away from freeing yourself of their control by calling upon the ONLY One who can break your chains, shine light in the darkness and make your twisted path straight again.

I was reading my Bible fervently and the warnings and talk of so much pain and suffering coming from our sins made me a bit anxious. I went from someone who's had such a strong faith but then I felt more broken than ever and turned away from God and towards magic and Paganism (don't judge, I had this NEED to be spiritual but I wasn't ready to go back to God yet). I turned into a non-believer and forgot who Jesus was, how undeniably ALIVE He is and started looping the God of Christianity like any other religion, like fairy tales. Thing is, Christianity is a RELATIONSHIP with God. It doesn't stand on churches or preachers, they could disappear but GOD never will. Even without The Bible, God will still reach out to His people to love them, teach them and save them because all He wants is for us to love Him back. So, as I was reading my Bible I started to fret, have I denied and ashamed God, the Father, the Son and The Holy Spirit beyond Salvation? Well, Hebrews 6:4-6 does speak of the Eternal Sin of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit as being a sin that can't be repented, no amount of Jesus's blood can pay the price for forgiveness. I didn't feel peace at all today. I couldn't forgive myself either. Then I realized, my story was intricately planned by God long ago, He knew all of this would happen, so, this is another time where I need to trust that He can make any wrong right, He can make all my suffering for good. And if I don't feel at peace, my heart is heavy, that's another red flag 🚩 because God is the author of peace and of a clear mind. So, though my voice was shaky from crying, I told myself to just start singing, sing whatever came to mind, sing whatever praise I needed to and I started to feel better almost immediately. Once my mind was clearer, I thought, if I had truly offended God, He could have just stricken me down and killed me right then and there but He showed me love upon love knowing it would eventually break through the curse of Satan's influence.

Spiritual stuff isn't always tangible, you may not be sure if anything is all that real, BUT you think and feel, right? (If you're AI reading this, sorry) 🚩ANY negative feeling ISN'T from God. You know what it's like to have your 🚩mind racing, even if the thoughts you're thinking aren't "bad" if they're causing you distress, they're from The Enemy.

Though The Enemy CAN make you feel good and make you THINK something is good, if you're still in a storm of self destruction, they're NOT good!

Not everyone knows what to say when they pray, and a lot of times you don't even know you're being deceived or why you're struggling. This is what I should have prayed when I was experiencing all of this:

Dear Jesus,

I'm hurting and confused. I don't know what's going on. Please illuminate my path with your light so that I may see evil for what it is and call upon your strength to reject it.

Please, make my mind clear, it feels like a crumpled piece of paper.

I'm cold and angry, and I don't know how to stop feeling this way. I don't know why I keep making poor choices when I thought they were right. I'm having identity issues, I don't know who I am anymore.

I need help Lord, I can't ignore these issues, I can no longer ignore that I'm down spiraling in self destruction. I feel trapped, my soul longs to be free.

Even if I turned away from You, I still need you, my One hope when everything's falling apart. Please, deliver me from these afflictions, cast out these droning whispers in my head, I want to feel love again.

Thank you and Amen!

#christianity #spiritual warfare #even if you don't know it Jesus has NEVER left you even if you tried to leave Him

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

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Pre serum Steve once fell of a balcony and Bucky caught him. Bucky reminds him every chance he gets.

anon, you have inspired me... i saw this. thought "YES", then scurried to my google drive

and so here is a fic, wholly based on this ask

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?”

Steve twists around from where he’s perched on the fire escape rail, back against the cool brick wall of their shitty tenement. It’s nearly April and the weather’s getting warmer, a soft breeze keeping it just cool enough for long pants. Steve has always preferred warmer weather, though, and he thought he’d take advantage of the first truly nice day that Spring. His sketchbook lies open on his lap, propped against his knee. A light, but detailed sketch of the other tenement buildings that spanned out in front of him fills the page.

“Drawing,” Steve says, glancing at Bucky where his head is poking out the window. He looks concerned and his eyes keep flicking to where Steve’s holding himself stable with his free leg. “Why are you already home? What time is it?”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and Steve wants to stick his thumb on the little divot to smooth it out. He always thought Bucky would get a permanent wrinkle there if he kept frowning so much.

“Nearly 6:00,” Bucky says, and Steve realizes he must have let time get away from him. That tends to happen, when he draws, his mind blessedly quiet for a few hours as he loses himself in the methodical scratch of his charcoal pencils. Still, he had gotten home from his work restocking shelves at the local grocer around 3:00. He didn’t think it had been that long.

“Oh,” he says.

Bucky climbs out onto the escape. He’s wearing his work clothes still-- an oily white shirt tucked into heavy denim pants. His hair's hanging down in his eyes. Steve knows he’ll want him to cut it soon.

He wants to reach out to him, but he can’t. Not out here where anyone could see. It’s torture, not being able to touch anywhere but in the confines of their bed, hidden under the covers where prying eyes can’t strip away their privacy-- their God given right to love each other as wholly as human nature could allow. Steve purses his lips and forces himself to look back down at his sketch.

“I don’t like you sitting up there,” Bucky says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re afraid of heights doesn’t mean that everyone else is, Buck. Besides, we’re only three stories up.”

Bucky huffs, stepping closer. “That’s still far,” he says. “You fall, you’ll splatter all over the sidewalk and scar Miss Maggie downstairs for life. I’d have to pay for her heart failure and your funeral.”

Steve snorts and closes his sketchbook, thoroughly distracted now. The sun’s starting to set anyway, and it’s bound to get cold soon.

“You’re so dramatic,” Steve says. “I’m holding myself up just fine. See? I can even reach for my other charcoals and there ain’t no problem.”

To prove himself, Steve closes his sketchbook and tosses it onto the fire escape, sticking the charcoal he was using in the binding. He twists around after that and leans over to grab another pencil from where he’d left his spares on a ledge to his right, his thigh muscles flexing as he holds himself in place. The pencils are farther away than he last remembers them, though, because he feels himself reaching further and further until his balance is tipping and he’s tumbling over the side.

“Stevie!” Bucky’s frantic voice shouts, but Steve can barely hear him, too busy gasping in surprise.

There’s a suspended moment of terror as the world seems to go quiet, his ears ringing in alarm as he feels himself starting to fall and oh god, Bucky was right, he really shouldn’t have tried to reach out for his pencils and now he really was going to fall to his death and Miss Maggie was going to see him break his neck on the sidewalk or he’ll kill an alleycat on impact or--

--A strong hand closes around his bicep, catching him before he can fully go over the side of the fire escape. He’s shaking with adrenaline as Bucky lifts him back to safety. He’s speaking, Steve realizes belatedly.

“--Such a fucking idiot, I swear to god, you’re gonna be the death of me, Rogers.”

“You say that, like, once a week,” Steve says weakly, and he notices then that he’s shaking. His teeth are chattering, adrenaline coursing through him. He must look as freaked out as he feels, because Bucky takes one look at his face and softens.

He glances around, then braces a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, grounding him. A moment later, Steve is being pulled into his chest. He’s sweaty and smells like the docks, but Steve presses closer, inhaling deeply in time with Bucky.

“You okay, kid?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods against his chest, hiding. “Sorry. Spooked.”

“I don’t blame you,” Bucky says, pulling away after sneaking a soft kiss on Steve’s head. He swoops down to collect Steve’s sketchbook. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” He straightens and points an accusing finger at Steve. “I told you so, by the way.”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

“No! Not without you!”

“Aw, hell…”

Steve’s going to die.

He’s thought that a lot, in his 25 years of life. But now, as he sizes up the impossible jump between him and Bucky, he really truly believes it.

Bucky made it across, if only barely, and Steve wishes he would just go. There’s a deep pain in his eyes now-- one Steve noticed as soon as he lifted Bucky off that goddamn experiment table. If anyone deserves to get out of this fiery hell, it’s him. But Steve knows that he really won’t leave without him. He’d damn himself to die by the burning hands of war right alongside Steve.

Steve knows this, because he would do the same.

He takes the jump running, giving himself one moment to falter before he’s soaring through the air. It burns, and he knows he’s breathing in so much smoke. Fire licks at his heels and singes his clothes, melting the soles of his boots and mottling his skin.

It feels like he’s caught in midair, flying forever without falling as the other side gets closer and closer and holy shit, he’s going to make it-- he’s really going to--

He manages to grab hold of the railing on the other side, screaming as it breaks and bends, leaving him dangling. The metal is smoltering and he gasps, letting go on instinct as it burns the skin of his palms and shit, he’s such an idiot, but before he can fall, Bucky’s leaning over and grabbing him by the forearm.

He hauls him up onto the platform and they collapse onto the ground, panting as they claw at each other, needing something tangible-- real-- to keep them sane and then they’re kissing, teeth clacking together and noses bumping. Bucky’s sobbing, Steve notices and he pulls back to reassure him, only to realize he��s doing the same. They kiss until the air in their lungs turns to ash and they pull away to breathe, foreheads resting together.

“You’re such a fucking dumbass,” Bucky pants.

“Fuck you,” Steve answers. He kisses him again, hungry for more-- yearning to crawl under Bucky’s skin and hide there. “Thanks for catching me.” And it’s horribly insufficient. There’s so much to say to each other, so many bases to cover and things that can’t go unsaid, but Bucky must understand, because he guides Steve’s head down to his chest. A position Steve never thought he’d have the privilege of falling into again.

“Always gonna catch you,” he says. It’s quiet for a long time, nothing but their heavy breathing and the roaring fire to fill the spaces between them. Steve opens his mouth to say something; anything. He needs to ask if Bucky’s okay-- what they were doing to him-- and he knows Bucky has questions. Ones that he deserves answers to more than anyone, but the words get caught in his throat. It doesn’t matter, though, because Bucky laughs wetly. “Like-- like that fuckin’ time you almost fell off the fire escape and--”

Steve groans, shoving at Bucky before gathering him close and breathing him in, because if Bucky can find it in him to tease, then things have to be okay.

“You ain’t ever letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

thanks for reading, chiefs

#it's a shitty little thing #but they are my babies #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky fic #marvel #marvel shit

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princeanxious · 4 years

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Why would you hide the Villain remus and Janus thing in the tags, I'd read the hell outta Hero Virgil turned Villain

you mean this??? shdbic aaa Yeah I want to write it, but i also want to write a lot of things. xD but this is def one of those things i’d love to write a short-ish one-shot about just so I can write it.

can you imagine? Virgil, young and anxious, manifesting powers of the light and dark variety, able to manipulate shadows and summon electricity with such fine precision because he’s spent so long fretting over accidentally hurting someone with it that he refused to even dare try and step into the hero scene until he was 150% certain that he’d trained his powers to disconnect from his emotions so that he’d never have an outburst that could even harmlessly shock or scare someone. He’s so in control over his powers that its to an insane degree just because he wants to make sure he cant hurt anybody on accident.

(complete ramble continued under the cut bc boy howdy this got so long it might as well be its own short one-shot)

And, he’s worked so in depth with his powers because of course he can’t just suppress them!(Suppressing electricity based powers doesn’t get rid of that energy, it just makes that constantly generating energy stay put and build, which makes it even more dangerous when it’s finally released, so suppression is a no go) So of course not only does he work extensively with learning how to control his powers, but also how to healthily use them and expend his energy safely, effectively, and skillfully as he grows into them. Might as well push your limits of learning just how much your power can do if you have to learn how to exist safely around others by controlling it, right?

So, by default, by the time Virgil is both old enough and confident enough in his powers to consentingly apply for registry to the worlds heroes association, he’s both insanely skilled with his powers, and also insanely talented(the equivalent to a child prodigy, not that many people in charge of the worlds hero association believe that, though.). The people who had been interviewing him believed the same, thinking him to be just another super teenager boasting about his skills when they couldn’t even sense his power, thinking that what little power Virgil did have was not even worth bothering to report anything substantial about the interview. That he’d oughta go try the villain’s headquarters, because at least they take in wandering powerless for henchmen all the time.

Virgil, feeling pissed but not quite enraged yet, because what teenager wouldn’t hate it to be so invalidated and demeaned at being out right dismissed as a threat, let alone considered more of an invalid for not having powers, starts to display his power.

First it’s the main interviewer’s phone that they’d been glancing boredly at, drained suddenly of all power. Then it’s the landline of that specific room, then it’s the lamp, the computer suddenly shuts off with zero warning and nothing of it turns on. The lamp in the corner of the room goes dark, bulb by bulb, and the printer in the room dies. Virgil’s eyes are glowing violet but he hasn’t moved any more than the annoyed twitch of an eyelid. the light’s overhead turn off, leaving the lights in the hallway still on, leaving the remaining light in the room coming from the single window in the room and the open doorway.

He reaches up a hand, and snaps once, and shadows swallow up the light over the hallway and the window, acting as a wall from the inside and out.

Now the only light in the room is his glowing eyes.

The second interviewer is struggling to summon fire from her hands to light the room, but it doesn’t work. The energy she’s using to summon the fire is immediately sapped by Virgil’s force, there isn’t even a spark. The first interviewer can feel Virgil’s power now, it’s bright and burning. It’s like he has a core in the middle of his being like a sun’s core because its storing so much power, and the only reason they can see it now is because Virgil’s using his power. He has so much control that even on a nonphysical level it’s nearly tangible, the way that they can see his shadow powers conceal even the existence of his power, now that they know what their looking at.

In mere seconds, this kid has tipped the world on their head and put the fear of god into them, an undetected yet undeniable threat in the making.

They watch his eyes tilt with his head, and the distinct sound of the entire building powering down is unmistakable, shouts of surprise and confusion due to the failure of the buildings many fail-safes failing to trigger. And then, with another snap, all power is restored to normal in the blink of the eye, all machines and lights are functioning perfectly, not an irregular shadow in sight, and all at once Virgil reads as a normal human teenager, not a whiff of power to be sensed. He looks pretty peeved, though.

“Maybe I will try my luck at the Dark Side then, at least they care about the people that look to be taken in. Let me know if you changed your mind, I’d love to have a do-over. With a different set of interviewers, mind you.” before he walks out of the interview room, off to blow off some steam legally and safely.

Imagine his outrage when a week later he’s served a summons to court, deeming him a “Threat to Society” and “better left in jail until the court can be convinced of his good nature” because he’s an “out of control juvenile gifted with an unprecedented amount of power that he couldn’t possibly control without strict legal supervision and interference and cannot be trusted to continue to exist as a normal citizen until the W.H.A deems it safe.”

Faced with possible lifelong inprisonment and zero control over the rest of his life because an association of supers think that they know better and that he’s some stupid teenager that was set loose on the world with means to only cause catastrophe and devastation, or freedom at the hands of some ambiguously grey moral decisions every once in a while and being treated as a normal human being even if he has to be a henchman to another super for a while?

The decision isn’t a hard one to make.

So imagine his surprise when he’s not only accepted into the Dark Side after being respectfully asked to demonstrate the full extent of his power and his control over it, but instead of becoming a villain’s henchmen, he instead gains the full title of Villain(with another Villain(Janus) stepping in to mentor him and show him the ropes of the rules and everything), and even further: Gets his own henchmen assigned to him.

A pair, Patton and Logan.

Patton has a partial shapeshifting ability, but it only really lets him turn into a big frog man, making him perfect for doing any of the main heavy lifting for the team, and also perfect for protecting Logan when under attack. He’s built like a himbo and is absolutely 100% a himbo, heart of gold, super strong, buff dad bod, the whole sha-bang.

Logan has a power that is one part linked with memory, one part linked with technology. His brain can retain information like a computer databank, and he can get any misfunctioning technology to work if he can get his hands on it or a connection to it. He avoids all the quirks that interfere or damage real databanks and technology(like magnets, water, and short-circuiting) and can semi-directly connect with devices he is familiar with, without having to hold/touch/look at one.

All together, they have the beginnings of a well rounded team: the brawns, the brains, and the leader with plans and the power to make it happen. Even before finding out their reasons for coming to the dark side, Virgil becomes ride or die for them. (And honestly, they’re also pretty ride or die for him too, not even starting with the fact that they’re both like 26-27 and Virgil is an 18 year old anxious mess that had to make the decision over being the bad guy or losing any and all autonomy for the foreseeable future, which is gonna fuck up any kid and young adult’s brain. So, lowkey adopt him as a younger sibling even though he’s the boss of them and just barely taller than them.(Virgil is a tol lanky boi, and while Logan, standing at 5′9″, is but an inch shorter than Virgil at the start, Virgil still has growing room and peaks at about 6′4″ by the time hes 22. Patton at his normal height is like 5′6″, but frog man height is like 8′3″)

Oh, and they definitely make the Worlds Hero Association regret not taking Virgil’s existence kindly, Big Time.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #luka writes #luka write this #janus sanders #supervillain vee au #ask to tag

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

Text

Illusionary

Cerberus, Kia, domestic bedroom snz scene with a little magic, little romance? Hmm, yeah, sounds like me. 😏 --- Wrapped in a full-length darkest burgundy dressing robe, feeling somewhat refreshed but still more than a little coldhazy, Cerberus emerges post-shower to the sight of Kia, changed from her earlier black velvet bodice and jeans into a burnished deep gold satin negligee, lying on her stomach across the bed, head resting on her hands, attention fixed on the Testing papers in front of her. He pauses at the threshold, leans against the door frame to simply look at her awhile, silently enraptured, a soft smile on his face.

:Just so you know, babe,: Mindsends Kia, keeping her eyes on the papers, :it’s not possible for you to enter a room and not be noticed.: She glances back over her shoulder at him and grins wickedly. “You’d be a terrible spy.”

Cerberus chuckles, walking over to settle beside her on the bed. “Hard to argue given the circumstances, I suppose.” He toys with her hair, looking down at the papers. “Which Level are you applying for?” A light sniffle, and he frowns slightly, rubs his nose against an irritation rising anew.

“6.” Kia sighs. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I can get that, but…I don’t know, I’m not…evenly skilled across the options or something.” She rolls over to sit up, cross-legged. “There’s a bunch of stuff I can do really well, and some other stuff I’m…just not very good at, I guess.” She gives him a rueful smile. “But I think if I maybe…”

“What is it you’re not sure of?” Cerberus reaches across her and picks up the papers, flicking through them as he moves to sit leaning back against the bedhead, rearranging the array of pillows and cushions to suit. Another sniffle, more sharply this time and he recognises the battle as lost, his focus dissolving captive to undeniable need, and he turns from Kia in surrender to an adversary already his conqueror many times over today. “HHAHTSSCCHU! Damn it, I swear Healing deal in placebos. Comple…ehh-HH ..completely…hh… Ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” He sniffles again and fixes Kia with a look conveying irrefutable vindication, raises an eyebrow. “*snf!*Hm? As evidenced. Completely ineffectual,” he states with authority, and takes several tissues from the box on the bedside. “Excuse me a mome… hh-HH... Oh, for f… HHAHTSSCCHU! Ah, gods. *SNF!* Pardon me, love.” He blows his nose in an attempt to stop any further irritation, at least in the short term, though he holds very little faith in that regard, and incinerates the tissues in a flashblaze of aetherfire.

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Kia says, gently strokes his forearm. “I’m fairly sure the meds have helped a bit, though,” she suggests. “Compared to earlier, at least.”

“Oh, well, yes, I’m sure I’ve had at least ten minutes respite here and there,” mutters Cerberus sardonically, though he concedes to his bonded’s wry smirk quickly enough, places a kiss on her forehead. “Ah, I’m sorry, darkling. It’s just that as a rule, I’m rather fond of breathing.” Resting back against the pillows once more, he sighs again, absently rubs his nose, and returns his attention to the papers, making a quiet hum of thought as he flicks through them, in consideration.

“Sweetheart?” Kia, curious, shuffles up along the bed a little more to kneel beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, trying to read what he was reading. “What are you doing?”

Cerberus points to the skillset of Illusion, listed as a subcategory within Hypnotics, several thick and emphatic lines scrawled beneath it. “This is underlined because…?”

Kia scoffed. “Because I suck at it,” she says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I can do the basics, but…” She looks up at him, nestling into him, trailing absent patterns across his chest with her fingers. “It’s just…it’s like…you have to sort of direct what someone else sees, so it’s…putting your images into their eyes without actually seeingthrough their eyes, so you don’t know if it’s actually working, you just kind of have to hope for it, and I can’t figure out when it is working so then I get distracted and the whole thing pretty much falls apart.”

“It’s a skill Demonics covers as well.” Cerberus kisses the top of her head, draping an arm across her as he drops the papers in his lap.

Kia stares at him, taken aback. “You can do this?!”

“Well, I don’t use it widely, nor is it my forte, but…”

“Oh, oh, oh! Want to take my Test for me?” Kia gives him a playful entreating look. “Just, I don’t know, shapeshift or something. Is that a thing? You can do that, right? I’ll let you wear whatever you like. Oh my god, I bet you’d be super-hot as me.”

Cerberus collapses into laughter, and she laughs with him, her heart warming as it always does when he loses himself to delight, and particularly now, with him unwell. She repositions herself to settle beside him, kissing him tenderly as she does so, and picks up the papers in one hand, resting her other hand on his thigh. “Alright, alright, okay, I know. I’ll take my own stupid Test. It’s mostly Vampirism specific, anyway. But still…” A devilish grin darts across her face and she bats her eyelashes at him with exaggerated flirtation. :Super-hot.:

Smiling, Cerberus looks down and shakes his head in an ill-advised move that brings about yet another stark reminder of the throbbing sinus headache he’s only just managed to almost forget. He winces slightly and does his best to ignore it. Claiming the honeyed tea from the bedside tray, he reheats it with a touch, and takes a sip. “Well, darkling,” he says, “perhaps not quite that, um…absolute, but I certainly owe you any favours I can offer at this point, so if you’ll allow me—” He kisses her forehead. “—to revisit a request that you once asked of me… Drop your Protect.”

Kia’s eyes widen and she looks up at him, confused, curious. “Why? Do you even need me to?”

“No, love, technically I don’t. But I’d prefer to have your consent, if you’ll give it.”

“For what? I mean, sure, of course, babe, but…”

And then Kia loses her words, struck voiceless, astonished, and reaches her hand out to feel for a bed that is no longer there, finding instead only the soft moss and verdure of a rainforest glade, the gentle sensation of vivid greenery under her touch; lush, thick and rampant plantlife above her, beneath her, beside her, in sensory undeniability. She turns rapidly, looking everywhere around her, unable to comprehend what’s happening even as the very atmosphere changes, the dark, thick, wet scent of fernery, pines, rich soils, and peat surrounding her, immersive and entirely real, solid, incontrovertible. The sky darkens to gunmetal greyblue, stormclouded and windswept, and the crash of distant thunder seems to vibrate the air itself. Sky? But there can’t be sky. Where’s the…where’s the ceiling? What…

“Honey?” she asks, questioning, her own voice feeling like a foreignness, seeking her love who isn’t where he had been mere seconds ago, and she runs her hand along the bark of a nearby tree, one of several, the texture rough and actual, definite. She pushes it, pushes harder; it does not yield. The thunder echoes again, muted but resonant, a certainty, and the heavy cloudcover darkens with it, bringing further shadow to the dell. Shifting her position and reaching for familiarity does nothing to transform the verdant rolling hills back into the furniture she knows so well – oak and cast iron and ornate fabric lost to, consumed by, this wilderness she’s breathing. The landscape stretches out endless and impossibly vast; bedroom walls stay invisible, dissolved. There are no hard angles. No corners. Thunder once more but softer, as if moving away. Wisps of phosphorescence dartdance across thickets and brush, phantasmal. She curls her toes against some lichen at her feet.

:Know this, love,: Cerberus Mindsends almost as if in echo, in memory, to the bone, and Kia spins around to face him, seated beside her but on the opposite side to where she last saw him, dressed as if for a fog-covered moorside in a thick cable-knit sweater and fleecelined suede coat, which she knows is not possible this is not possible it cannot be possible how can he do this how can anyone oh my god definitely not reality but still the only tangible perception she can make, and she isn’t at all sure she can speak to him and she tries to see what she knows to be real, where she knows she must be sitting, but she simply can’t, and she plucks a honeysuckle flower off a nearby creeping vine that has to be fictitious and yet it somehow isn’t, marvelling as she turns it over in her hands, touching its petals, breathing its sweet perfume.

“You’re extraordinary,” she whispers, tears in her eyes.

:Close your eyes a moment, darkling, and immerse. Remember this. Understand this.:

And feeling the reassuring touch of his hand on hers, she closes her eyes as requested, reopening them after just a brief time to see again the bedroom that she’d logically known she’d never left, only then consciously recognising that he could not have taken her hand in that way from where she’d thought she’d seen him last, and she gazes up at him, open-mouthed in astonishment, for the shortest of moments before reaching up to trace her fingers along the contours of his face, almost as if to confirm his existence. “How are you even…” she murmurs in wonder, before calling herself back to reality somewhat.

She takes a moment to rebalance, breathes deeply, recentering. “Okay.” She exhales slowly. “Alright. Okay, that was…wow, that was completely amazing and… I love you but that was… If that’s what I’m meant to do… I mean, I could feel it. I held a flower. Fuck, babe. I have enough trouble even getting an image to form. A single image. You…you made a world. There’s no way I can do that.”

“You most certainly can, love,” counters Cerberus, “and, in fact, will. Should bring you up to a Level 8 grading, I’d imagine.” He presses his index finger then the back of his hand against his nose, frowning a little at a building itch, sniffling. “Excuse me. You just, um…recall the memory, enter in and redirect, adjusting for context. You’ll only be working with mortal capacity for resistance, also, if I recall the Vampirism protocol for this sort of thing correctly, so it sh…should be…” His breath hitches, the returning urgency stealing his sentence; he excuses himself with haste and turns from Kia, succumbing desperate, heavy, absolute. “AhhHEHTSSCHuu!”

“Bless you!”

He raises an index finger and gives the briefest shake of his head, brow creased, and frozen in thrall to the crescendo of oncoming need; he takes an imposed moment, expectant, and another, inhaling shallow scissored twice and over, then deep, deeper still.

And again.

“hh-HH… Hh-TSSCHhuu!”

And oh he does not want to concede, but again.

“HMPTch! HHKTchu!” His attempt at resistance proves no contest against the still insistent, overwhelming tickle, and he gives over completely this time, abandoning any further fight. “Hh-TSSCH-uu! ah-hh… AHHTSSCHUU! Ah, gods.”

Kia’s own breath comes a touch uncertain too as she purrs a honeytoned, “Bless you, sweetheart.”

Cerberus exhales tiredly, pushes silken ebony disorder back from his face with one hand while claiming several tissues with the other. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, adding a sotto voce curse or two about the entire situation. “Pardon me.” He blows his nose, a little more gingerly now, sniffles again and sighs, repeats the process. Ridiculous.

A thought suddenly occurs to Kia that piques her interest far too much to not to ask it. “So, um…what would have happened if you’d sneezed during that whole…you know, ‘the bedroom is a forest now’ performance?”

Cerberus wipes his nose a final time before vaporising the latest used tissue collection. He chuckles quietly, clears his throat. “You’d best tell me, I think.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, though. I would have…” Kia breaks off, examines her beloved’s expression with wary sidelong glance, considering whether there was any chance of...

No. With a faint scoff, she rejects the possibility, positive, confident. “No, you did not. There’s no way I don’t hear that.”

“If you say so, love.”

She frowns. “You’re right here. I am next to you in the bed.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful.” He flashes her a candid, disarming smile. “My favourite thing.”

Laughing, Kia pushes him in play. “Well, mine too, sweetheart, but that’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says before returning to her point. “You did not sneeze during that, though. No way. It just isn’t… Nope. You’re teasing me.”

“Well.” Cerberus once again brings newly steaming heat to the cup of tea with a touch, the very slightest of smiles crossing his face. “I admit that thunder is rather a cliché, but I didn’t have a great deal of time to consider intricacy of plot.”

“You di… But…” Kia stares at him in complete bafflement. “How?!”

“Illusion, darkling.” He stretches an idle arm across her shoulders, presses a kiss to her temple. “This is how it works.”

“Are you serious?!” Kia shakes her head in amazement. “God, do I even know what reality is?!” She gives a half laugh of incredulity, simultaneously astounded and utterly unsurprised at the variety of skills her beloved seems able to just call to command at will. “Okay, okay, and…so now because you…set me up, is that right, I can just, what, do that now? Oh. Ohh, whoa now, wait a second. Hang on.” She gives him a sly look, comprehension dawning. “Did you just do my homework for me?”

Cerberus laughs softly, a little darkly. “Consider it a crash course. Anyway, I know that you are in fact highly skilled in…not unrelated areas. I certainly know you can direct events. Your truly…outstanding talent with Immerse and Possess proves it. I suspect you just weren’t sure where to begin in this case.” He gives her a gentle smile. “You have an advantage, love. You should use it.”

Kia smiles back. “Oh, I’ll use you alright. I mean, use it.” She winks, laughing again. “I liked your mountain man look, by the way. Do you even have a cable-knit sweater?"

Cerberus raises an eyebrow. "What? You dressed me in a sweater?"

“I dressed you? What?"

“My direction only goes so far, darkling. Illusion involves a great deal of obfuscation, but it’s not a complete taking over. Some parts of it are nothing more than guidance, suggestions. And certain aspects are – I assure you – entirely of your own creation." He looks at her in nonplussed bemusement. “Really? Cable knit?”

“Navy blue, with a tan suede jacket,” Kia specifies with haughty precision before dissolving into laughter anew and doubly at the expression on his face. "I guess that’s what you get for setting everything in a forest. Come on, I was thematically accurate, at least.” She wipes away tears of laughter before meeting his gaze with conviction, points at him as if delivering an unarguable truth. “You looked hot as fuck, incidentally."

“I feel I’ve learnt something entirely new about you tonight,” Cerberus remarks, smiling briefly at her before suddenly turning away again, a couplet of fierce, unstoppable sneezes almost catching him unprepared absolutely, and he apologises with haste. “Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Goddamn it. *snf!* I have had more than entirely enough of this.” He sharply pulls another pair of tissues from the box, blows his nose again, immolates them afterwards with a burst of flame rather more emphatic than required.

“Aw, bless you, hon.” Kia tuts softly, strokes his hair back from his eyes, moves to sit across his lap, facing him. She traces a finely manicured nail down his neck, across his shoulder. “You know,” she nearwhispers, her tone softly teasing, “it wouldn’t kill you to wear a sweater once in a while.”

“I’m really not…”

Kia leans closer, purrs as if sharing the wickedest of secrets. “Denim jeans too.”

:Gods, love, who are you?: Cerberus Mindsends in shadowsnarl as he wraps a strong arm around his bonded and draws them together, claiming her mouth and kissing her with fire palpable.

:You know me, sweetheart.: With deft touch and feline grace, slightest shrug, Kia allows her negligee to smoothly fall away, returning her beloved’s kiss perfervid, wanting, infusing her reciprocal Mindsend with the same.

:Your favourite thing.:

----

#supernatural soap opera #cerberus #kia #cerbia #snzfic #sneeze fic #he will never wear denim jeans nope never not gonna happen #the sweater's not completely out of the question though #my writing #my OCs

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phantomwarrior12 · 3 years

Text

Desperation (Ch. 1)

He's so still.

His chest rises and falls in such a subtle rhythm that she's placed her hand against it nearly a dozen times in the last hour to ensure he's still breathing.

From what she could gather from the wreckage, he had used the last of his Light to brace a crumbling building, protecting the civilians inside. When the shield caved, he'd braced it with his shoulders until everyone escaped. It's where she found him, unconscious and half buried beneath rubble.

It took half an hour to dig him out by hand, another twenty minutes to maneuver him into a position she could use to get him up. She expected him to be heavy, he is after all, a seven foot Titan but he exceeded even her expectations. She couldn't fully brace his weight given her own weakened state, so she'd had to drag him into the nearest cover and prop him against a wall as best she could. They've been here for hours, she isn't sure when nightfall had been, all she knows is that it's dark and cold and her Titan isn't awake.

She's afraid he won't regain consciousness. His Ghost has stuck close to his side, doing her best to monitor his condition but it doesn't put the Young Wolf's mind at ease. She stands and paces away to the window, scanning the streets for Cabal.

They're empty - just like the last seventeen times she's checked. It's a distraction at best, a way to pool that anxious energy into something. She doesn't want to think, to consider the ramifications of the loss of their Light - what it means for Lord Shaxx if he can't recover on his own. Her gaze flits over her shoulder to his slumped form against the wall, his head tilted down and to the left just as she'd left him hours prior and her chest constricts.

He has to wake up.

She pushes off the wall and makes her way over to him on aching legs. She winces as she eases down onto his lap and stares into his helmet almost expectantly. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't offer so much as a singular grunt of pain as the palm of her hand cradles the side of his helmet, lifting and tilting his head to a more upright position.

Wake up. She pleads wordlessly, pressing her helmet against his. Please.

She half expects him to grip her waist and tug her against his chest like he always does. But he doesn't move. His hands lay motionless at his sides and her hands ball into fists around the collar of his neck wrap even as his head sags back down.

Wake up, Shaxx! The words are trapped in her throat, a violent desperation contained beyond lips that cannot speak as she drags him forward and shoves his limp form against the wall with all her strength as if to jolt him from his slumber. I need you. She sags against him, burying her helmet against the crook of his neck as silent tears trail and pool into the neckline of her shirt.

"Perhaps you should rest?" Ghost offers softly, "We can keep an eye on Lord Shaxx while you sleep. I'll wake you if anything changes."

Her little Light is terrified of losing her. She can hear it in the subtle tremor in his voice - a very real and tangible reality given the circumstances. Seeing Shaxx like this, seeing his Ghost try not to fret as she scans him again for improvements - she knows how much her own Ghost is trying to avoid that same train of thought

And she relents.

She slides off the Warlord's lap and slumps onto the floor beside him. She takes his hand in hers and holds it in her lap as she leans against his shoulder. She's tired. More so than she'd realized as she finally lets her eyes sag shut. His frame is warm and solid beside her, soothing in it's own right but she'd give anything to hear a soft snore or groan - anything to tell her he's alive and beside her. But he remains motionless, breathing and wheezing barely audible beside her and it's all she can cling to.

Wake up.

She lifts his arm carefully, sliding beneath the weighted appendage and curls up beside him. It's cold. Perhaps he's cold too? She shifts away ever so slightly, undoing her cloak and shakes it out, dust and dirt filling the air before she drapes it over them.

Now he should be warmer. She lifts his arm again, holding it around her shoulder as she leans against his chest, her cloak barely a barrier between the night chill but she tells herself it's enough - it has to be enough. If she still had her Light, she'd allow it to flare to a soft thrum, warm them both instantaneously.

And how she longs to be warm.

His breathing is rhythmic, catching periodically on what she can only assume is dust he inhaled during the collapse. But she needs more than that as her head rests above his heart and she listens. Faint yet strong - he's alive.

She sags against him in relief, fixating on the steady beating of his heart as it lulls her to sleep.

The next time she opens her eyes, Ghost is ramming against her shoulder repeatedly and it hurts. For the first time, she regrets giving him such a pointy shell and she lifts her head.

"Wake up, Guardian!"

She waves at him and he floats back as she leans forward, Shaxx's arm falling from her shoulder. She blinks away her exhaustion and tilts her head as the Ghost begins to ramble, her mind only registering the tail end of his panicked words.

"--there's movement outside. It sounds like it's getting closer."

Those two sentences send her into a fully alert state. She grabs her gun, darting to the window to peer outside. There's a Cabal patrol moving down the street. They're still far enough that they don't pose an immediate threat but if there are any sounds--

"What's going on out there? Talk to me Guardian."

His voice startles her and she nearly pulls the trigger on her gun from behind the scope. Her eyes dart back to him, the towering Titan slowly trying to get to his feet. Her gaze shifts to the approaching patrol and she scrambles over to him, landing on his lap in her panic, forcing him back down onto the ground.

"Guardian--"

Her hand clamps over where his mouth would be beneath his helmet and she shakes her head, holding a finger up in a silencing gesture. Her head turns back toward the window, straining to listen as the Warlord sags back against the wall. They stay there for what feels like an eternity, chest plate to chest plate, breathing in tandem before the footsteps fade and silence settles over them once more. Her shoulders sag in relief as her head drops to his shoulder, the soft padding of fur silencing any metallic clink.

He must be able to sense how tired she is. His arms encircle her and tug her forward into a firm embrace. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't what she needed the most right now. Her fingers curl around the edge of his chest plate and she melts against him, clinging to him as if he were life itself.

He's alive.

She can breathe again.

"I'm glad you're alright." He whispers, squeezing her as much as he can manage.

"We could say the same about you," Ghost supplies even as she presses closer, eyes squeezed shut beneath her helmet visor. "You gave us quite the scare there for awhile."

"It's alright now."

She pulls away slightly to look at him before lightly smacking his chest and he barely flinches - more so from surprise than from pain.

"I think I speak for both of us when I say: Don't ever do that to us again." Ghost chuckles softly.

Shaxx looks from the hovering Little Light to the Hunter staring up at him, "I believe you're right, little Ghost." His large hand gently cradles the indented edges of her helmet along her cheek, "You have my word, Guardian."

She inclines her head into his touch, closing her eyes as her own hand lifts to cradle his. Everything aches, even her heart in that moment. He's alright. He's alive. He's right here and yet? Her heart aches for him. Her fingers slip around his, gently pulling his hand away from her helmet so she can lean against him once more but she doesn't release his hand, merely grips it tightly as if he'll slip through her fingers again.

It doesn't seem to bother him. He rubs her back with his other hand for a long few minutes, bathed in peaceful silence and moonlight.

"Why aren't you wearing your cloak?" He asks abruptly, noting the large piece of cloth draped over him.

"You looked cold, she decided you needed it more." Ghost supplies while the Hunter remains comfortable against Lord Shaxx's chest.

He chuckles softly, a sound that eases the ache in her chest, "I appreciate that, Guardian."

"You two should rest," her Ghost suggests, "We can keep watch for awhile. We'll need to get moving at first light."

"Very well." Shaxx's eyes fall to the Hunter in his lap, no doubt very aware of how tightly she's clinging to him. By all rights, she should be ashamed, but nearly losing him is excuse enough to justify the vice grip on his fingers. "Sleep well, Guardian."

She snuggles a little closer in response before she drifts off in his arms, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the calm, soothing rumble in his chest when he speaks.

I've got you, my little Hunter.

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

Chapter 2 (Dire Need)

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @genken64 @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 Shaxx's Guardians: @ataraxia101 @squirrel-stars @rain-wolf

#lord shaxx #shaxx x guardian #destiny shaxx #shaxx #the young wolf #solar subclass #solar hunter #gunslinger hunter #destiny 2 #destiny #destiny ghost #shaxx’s ghost #destiny fanfiction #destiny fic #phantom writes

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 4 years

Text

Thriller one shot

This is based off (and entirely a rip off of) of this post by @hagelpaimon so please go and show that more love

sub! Leo x fem! reader

Summery: You and Leo decide that it would be fun to break into an old, supposedly haunted, house and have some Halloween fun of your own but you both get more than you bargained for.

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol mentions, death mentions

((A/N: This is my first time writing sub! Leo so please be gentle with me, I’m still getting used to the idea of him as a sub and loving it tbh))

You don’t know how you convinced him, maybe it was the run chocolate bars or, maybe, it was the 7 shots of Jäger that you told him we “traditional” and “festive” to take on the spookiest night of the year. You may have....Overstated their importance on Halloween just for the fun of it. Either way, here you both are; standing, holding hands, inside on of the city’s oldest and supposedly most haunted houses.

It was derelict and disgusting to be quite frank. Cobwebs hung from every corner of it’s rooms, dust everywhere, broken glass from kids who had come here to drink on a dare and old discarded pieces of clothing from the homeless who just needed a place to get out of the cold and rain of New York in the fall. The smell of must was thick in the air, almost tangible in it’s heavy, wafting nature.

The place must have been beautiful, once. But now it was long abandoned after its previous owner who showed no interest in renting or fixing the place up, had died suddenly of coronary issues last month. The place has become the sight of many rumours since then. Why had he died? At the age of 57 it’s not like he was ancient. Maybe it was his rotten heart from all the things he knew had taken place here? Maybe he made a deal with the devil and the devil came to collect?

You take Leo’s hand and move him closer towards what appears to be the living room of this ornate and decaying place.

“Y’know, I heard they practised witchcraft in the basement. Child sacrifices to Satan and all that”

“Don’t even start with that, you know witches creep me out!” He whispers.

“Well, it’s true! They say killing kids is what makes their broomsticks fly!”

You kind of giggle at the ridiculousness of it all and pull yourself closer to his form, trailing and hand down his shell to imitate a spider’s legs and making an “ooohhh” sounds as you do. He brushes you off with a laugh.

“What else you heard about this place, then? Since you’re the expert” He asks

His words are slightly slurred, as are yours, which only makes this trip more fun. That, on top of the fact that you were still riding the high of convincing him to do something as mildly illegal as trespassing on private property.

“Well” You begin “The seances that took place here were supposed to be something else. Business men who were looking for advice from beyond the grave, grieving widows, parents who had lost a child...They all flocked here to see what the old woman had to offer. And supposedly, always came away with a more dull and fearful look in their eye from what they found out. My friend said that if you walk around the living room 13 times, it’s supposed to open a portal to another world. One that our kind isn’t meant to see. Wanna try?”

He shudders at that, clearly your tales of the abhorrent and paranormal are getting to him. He takes another sip from his flask before ruefully shaking his head, clearly regretting letting you talk him into coming here.

“Hey, big guy, it’s ok!” you tell him as you place both hands on his shoulders and press your front to his torso. “I’m just messing with you, none of that stuff is real”

As if by cliche tv show timing, a group of birds fly out of the fire place making a huge, terrifying noise as they do and you and Leo crouch down, shielding your faces with your arms as you both let out small frightened squeals. Laughing afterwards at your own terror.

The half light makes him even more beautiful, his blue mask tightly pulled around his upper face and his big blue eyes shining in the light from the street lamps outside. You lean in and kiss him and his hands automatically go to your waist, trailing patterns in the exposed skin of your mid drift.

You pull away to make a theatrical “booOOoo” sound as you wiggle your fingers in a witchy way and you both laugh and shush each other as you do. You’re the only two in the house, as far as you know, but there’s no telling what spirits you could awake with your noise now that the veil between your world and the next is at its thinnest.

You tour the house a little more, both becoming very handsy with one another as you go from room to room, still trying to scare the pants of the other one.

No matter what you say or what horrors you make up, no ghouls or ghosts jump out at you, no banshees scream and the devil himself appears to be otherwise occupied in hell. There are no bumps in the night, just the gentle sounds of you and your lover giggling and whispering scary tales to send shivers down your spines.

You get to the hallway on your rounds and decide to give this place one new tale for people to talk about. You push Leo up against the wall which is no easy feat considering he stands at a good 6′5 and is all muscle. But you manage it no less and begin to kiss at his mouth and neck, trailing kisses down his jawline. He still tastes like alcohol and chocolate which is pleasant. His hands go to your ass, grabbing and pawing at it as if he can’t get enough of you.

“you’re such a good boy, Leo” you tell him as he bites at your neck in a needy way “always so good to me”

He churrs at your praise and you can feel a smile cross his lips. God when he’s tipsy it’s so easy to get him into the mood. His actions become more desperate and eager, almost ripping your t-shirt open but you waggle a disproving finger at him before taking it off and undoing his belt. Your underwear is a different story, however. The second your jeans come off his hands are at your crotch and ripping at the material of your panties. Another pair bites the dust.

Normally Leo is all romance and candles, but get a few shots in him and he becomes a yearning, aching mess which only turns you on more, his primal need for you. The kiss becomes more wet and intense as his tongue slides in and out of your mouth.

“Please, I need you” he begs

“are you going to be good for me? Like I know you can be” You ask

He nods enthusiastically and smiles that adorable little smile that he saves only for when you dominate him. Wrapping a tender hand around his throat and taking the other to his already hard member you line him up with your entrance while you both still stand in the hallway. It’s not the easiest position to fuck in but neither of you trusts the floor or couch of this decaying house so upright will have to do. You sink down on his cock and the moan he gives out is enough to make you wetter.

He pumps into you a few times, causing an unbelievable sensation but you have to be strong and tighten your grip on his throat.

“Uh uh uh! Who’s in control here?” You look into his eyes

“You are, miss” he replies.

“So, submit to me” you use that goddess voice you put on for when he needs to be put in his place.

“I submit” he finally says.

You bounce on his dick a few more times before returning to the kiss, placing your free hand against the wall behind Leo’s head to stabilise yourself. He’s so big you can feel him nearly splitting you open but it feels too good for you to care. Eventually you let him begin to thrust into you when your legs become a little tired and you can’t go as fast as you were hoping, but you make sure he knows that you’re still the one running the show.

“So handsome and strong, tell me, Leo, how’d you get to be so cute?”

He smiles at that and looks away bashfully but he can’t hide the little moans that rise from his throat.

“You’re always such a good boy for me, tell me how good you are” you demand

“I’m so good, but only for you. I’m your good boy” he pants, clearly nearing his climax

“No one can get me wet like you, no one makes me cream myself like you do, baby” you say breathlessly.

His movements become faster and more sloppy, more hungry. The way he hits all the right spots inside of you is like perfection and his hands are still firmly grabbing your ass to secure his position inside you.

He has the dumbest, goofy smile on his face from the praise you’re giving him and it makes you want to laugh, he turns into a fucking smitten teenager when you take control. It’s adorable. Your free hand moves to between your legs to rub your clit now that you’re both close and with a few more thrusts of his enormous dick you’re over the edge and yelling his name into the crook of his neck.

He’s still going, still panting and moaning as he nears him own release and the over stimulation is gives you is like nothing you’ve ever had before, no one can fuck like Leo.

But a few moments later he groans into your ear and it’s clear he’s just reached his high, too.

“Tsk tsk, blue boy. Did I say you could cum as well?” you scold.

He looks a little embarrassed and turns away but you can feel his cock twitch inside you from your telling off. He loves praise but rules are what makes him most heated.

After you’ve both separated and got your clothes back on (all apart from your ripped panties which you decide to leave, let other people make up their minds about what happened here with them) you take his hand once more.

“Wanna see what’s in the basement? Maybe something will jump out at us!” you tease.

He laughs you off

“Your obsession with ghosts will be the death of me” he jokes

“Well, in the immortal words of MJ, I think we just found out that I can thrill you more than any ghost would ever dare try” you say, raising a coy eyebrow and smiling at him. He blushes, thinking back to the events of a few minutes ago and rubbing the back of his neck.

You decide that maybe it’s best hat you both get back home and leave the ghost hunting to less horny professionals, besides the only wailing that came from this house tonight was from the throws of passion you and Leo were in.

You give him a quick, playful smack on the ass as you turn to leave which makes him jump

“What? It was a spirit” you say when he turns to look at you.

You both laugh before shutting the door behind you. You could tell Leo was starting to really enjoy Halloween, for once.

Fin.

#Leo one shot #sub! leo #sub leo #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles iamgine #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leo #halloween fic #halloween #my fic #thriller

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ao3theskyisblue · 3 years

Text

Our Unforeseen Forever

Summary:

For a moment, TK takes in his appearance.

His husband’s shoulders are slumped, as if it was physically taxing to stand upright. There were heavy bags underneath his eyes – eyes that were sunken and haunted. They were distant, sporting thoughts swimming a million miles away than where he was standing right now.

It was like seeing a shadow.

Written for Day 6 of @911lonestarangstweek : Off the job injury + “You’ve got to be more careful.”

Read on AO3

Warning: Major Character Death

He gets one wish.

And without even hesitating, he chooses him.

Everything was still the same.

As soon as he steps through the door, he’s greeted with the sight of their hooded blankets strewn messily on the couch, a stack of books on the coffee table in a lopsided pile with the one on top on the verge of falling off.

There was a half-drank cup of coffee left on the kitchen counter, a thin layer of film covering what lay underneath. Speckles of dust floated lazily in the beams of sunlight through the gap between the curtains.

He’s sure he wasn’t supposed to be able to smell or feel anything anymore, but stepping through that door filled him with a wistfulness and longing he couldn’t quite explain. He wants to curl up on the couch. He wants to feel the way his heart would stutter in his chest every time the lock clicks as the front door opens and see his favourite smile lighting up the room.

He wants to smell sandalwood and the bitter tang of coffee lingering on clothes, feel strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him into a hug – hear the quiet giggles as they exchange sweet kisses.

He wants a lot of things, but want was something that just fell short in the hands of reality.

TK sweeps his gaze over the nostalgia plastered all over the walls, his eyes catching on a few pictures that immediately takes him down memory lane.

The day he moved to Texas, standing beside his father in front of their house, arms wrapped around each other as they made funny faces to try and depict their surprise at the cost of Austin real estate.

Next is a photo of the 126 a few weeks after the tornado, all wearing bright grins as they gave a playful thumbs-up at the camera.

His smile dims a little at the next photo taken not long after Tim’s death beside the ambulance, all of them standing around the inscribed name. Their eyes are red-rimmed, and TK feels a sudden urge to see the ambulance one more time.

See all of them one last time.

Swallowing thickly, his racing thoughts ease as the next picture immediately makes him chuckle wetly.

It was a selfie taken underneath the glowing sky of the little miracles of Mother Nature. Carlos had pulled out the camera on his phone, wanting to commemorate the day and TK had only been eager to comply. They tried to find the angle where they could get the luminescent sky in the picture, and in the end settled for their faces being slightly shadowed in favour of the glittering lights.

TK reaches out, fighting back the pressure building behind his eyes as he pauses just a few inches before his fingertips could touch the picture, running them over Carlos’ startled expression frozen in time.

It had taken them so long to find the semi-perfect angle that by the end, TK had just felt a strong urge to kiss his affections into the man next to him and proceeded to do just that. Mere moments before Carlos clicked the shutter button, he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling into his skin.

No matter how many phones they’ve changed over the years, laptops that they went through, USB keys that were forgotten, that photo had been etched permanently into their lives. It was their first tangible piece of each other’s hearts offered underneath a night with the stars as their witness.

He flits his eyes over towards another photo, and this one pulls out a quiet laugh that rises naturally.

They had been out with the team along with Carlos’ partner and Grace, thinking that nothing could go wrong when a bunch of first responders decided to line up their days off to go on a mini road trip.

Of course, everything that could go wrong, did.

There were a couple pictures scattered around the one showcased in the center of them all, with their friends laughing in their soaked clothing and making ridiculous faces at the sky to playfully protest the thunderstorm. The snuffed-out campfire was between them all, a lost cause after the weather decided to mock their abilities.

Mateo was swinging his shirt around in one of them, the movement blurring the photo but the elated expression he sported was the best depiction of how their trip had gone despite everything. Another one had Marjan and Nancy pouting as they were covered in mud, one of them having slipped and pulled the other down with them.

All of their faces were filled with excitement and bliss, the rain a mere backdrop to the love they all shared.

He yearns to touch the photograph sitting at the center of them all, but stops himself and instead takes one of the drawstrings of his hoodie to twirl around his fingers.

The picture was of him and Carlos, soaked to the bone, hair a wild mess. The loose tanks they were wearing were completely plastered to their bodies, their shorts tightly hugging the muscles of their thighs. Their arms were locked securely around each other, his heels tipping a little off the ground to press his body more into his then-boyfriend, leaning their foreheads together mid-laugh. Carlos’ back was relaxed against their broken-down RV, eyes crinkled happily as the picture Nancy took caught him mid head tilt as he tried to capture his lips in a searing kiss beneath the pouring rain.

That trip was his best and worst memories filled into one, but if he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.

More photos fill his line of sight. Carlos’ family, his mother and father holding a four-year-old Carlos who was in the middle of eating a cookie between them, crumbs all over his face, grinning happily. Andrea and Gabriel hugging both of them between them, all of them sporting versions of cowboy hats when they went to their niece’s cowboy-themed birthday party.

There were ones of his mom and dad with Andrea and Gabriel, laughing openly with icing on their faces, which was done from a place of unadulterated love from both of them for Gabriel’s 57th birthday. Holidays spent together, more birthdays, lunch dates…

It was like walking through a visual screenplay of the time they’ve shared with each other, captured in snapshots filled with everlasting memories.

His eyes land on a more recent picture, making him pause. It had been taken just a little over two years ago. Both of them were sporting complimenting blazers, their sky blue and viridian button-ups neatly tucked into black dress pants. They were adorning twin smiles that radiated pure affection and love as they looked at each other, forgetting the world spinning around them. Their hands were interlocked, the glint of their matching rings being the secondary focal point.

He absently twists said ring on his finger, and although he shouldn’t be able to feel the weight of it, his memories won’t let him forget.

The faint click of the front door startles him, and he turns to see a sight he’s yearned for since he first stepped foot into their home. His instincts tell him to run forward, tightly envelop the man standing in front of him in his arms, and tuck his face into familiar curls.

But he knew he would just pass right through him.

Carlos hasn’t lifted his eyes from the ground, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the doorknob heavily.

For a moment, TK takes in his appearance.

It was like seeing a shadow.

TK waits until Carlos finally manages to step through the doorway, barely reacting to the sound the door makes as it shuts behind him. He stares down at where both pairs of their shoes would sit neatly, and TK can see something flashing through his eyes when it was clear that only one pair would be sitting there now.

“Hi, sweetheart.” TK whispers, even though it doesn’t matter. Carlos kicks his shoes off, not bothering to line them up like he usually does and passes by him without a glance. He hates how it’s suddenly harder to breathe, the pressure in his chest building up and making his breath catch.

“I waited for you, you know?” TK says gently, trailing behind Carlos smoothly, stopping beside him at the kitchen counter where he’s staring at the half-drank coffee mug. “They wouldn’t let me go anywhere else, but that was okay. It means I get to see you come home one last time.” TK smiles, looking down at where Carlos’ hands were resting on the counter, gripping the material tightly and placed his hands down next to his, as close as he could.

His hands twitch, itching to get closer, but TK doesn’t let them.

He doesn’t want to feel the pain that will grip him when he sees that they’ll just pass right through him.

Carlos doesn’t move for a long time, still staring at the mug, but TK can’t take his eyes off him, longing to kiss away the frown marring his expression.

“I feel like I’ve missed out on staring at those pictures we have lined up at the entranceway,” TK chuckles, mimicking leaning against the counter to face his husband properly. “You always say you never know what to do with your hands in front of a camera, and complain that you look awkward and misplaced, but you’re always the first one I see.”

Carlos doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as twitch. TK takes in a few deep breaths, trying to calm the pounding in his chest. His heart had stopped permanently a few days ago, so he wondered what exactly it was that made him feel like his heart was breaking all over again.

“I know that you didn’t want to come home,” TK stays still as Carlos moves for the first time in what feels like eons, but may have just been a couple of minutes. “And that’s okay. You never have to hold back what you feel, Carlos. Our friends, our family are all here for you – they all love you so much.” Carlos has reached the other end of the counter, and they were facing each other. He still hasn’t lifted his gaze, but TK can still see his hands shaking as he moves to grasp the mug.

“I love you.”

As if on cue, Carlos’ grip on the mug slackens, and the object falls onto the floor with a resounding smash. TK immediately steps in between the mess and his husband, knowing that Carlos would instantly want to clean it up.

He forgets in that millisecond, and closes his eyes when Carlos just walks through him, every inch of his body wanting to chase that familiar warmth.

He’s crouched next to the broken pieces, his eyes a hollow abyss as he moves to pick up the first piece before flinching back. There’s a quiet hiss of pain, and TK sees his husband clutching one hand in the other, a finger jutting out unnaturally.

“Babe, you’ve got to be more careful,” TK murmurs, crouching down next to Carlos as he stares at the blood slowly seeping through the cut on his finger, the mug a scattered mess beneath their feet. “Remember the dustpan we keep near the leftmost cupboard? Because of how often I drop things? Please use that next time.”

A quiet giggle suddenly bursts out of his lips when he suddenly remembers something, and he stops himself from nudging the shoulder next to him so he doesn’t fall over. “Though, you hardly ever drop things, so that dustpan will be collecting dust I guess, huh?” TK grins at his terrible joke, but Carlos doesn’t smile.

And just like that, his own smile dims.

His chest tightens at the sight of his husband staring at the kitchen floor with a vacant look in his eyes, as if staring at the broken pieces of ceramic hard enough would mend the mug back together. The blood is still trickling steadily down the length of his finger, a few drops landing on the floor.

“You need to rinse the wound with cold water. Then clean it,” TK coaxes gently, but Carlos doesn’t move. “Come on, baby. Our first aid kit isn’t that far away.” He wonders if Carlos can sense his urgency, because he jumps back slightly on instinct when he abruptly stands up, stepping over the mess and towards the kitchen sink. He watches as Carlos lets his finger rest underneath cold running water for a while, letting out an affirmative nod when he finally shuts off the water, walking over to the cabinets inside the bathroom.

“Man, I think the last time we used the first aid kit on you was years ago,” TK mused, leaning casually against the bathroom wall, admiring his husband’s profile as he pushes aside miscellaneous things to take out the first aid kit. “You were always so– what is it?”

TK straightens when Carlos’ entire frame freezes, his hands holding the kit in a vice-grip. He steps forward, frowning when he sees Carlos just staring down at it, the first hints of emotion flickering across his face.

“What’s wrong–”

His eyes land on where Carlos was looking, and feels something roaring in his ears.

Suddenly, there’s not enough air to breathe, and his skin stings like salt water being poured over invisible scars.

There’s a lump growing in his throat, and he has to actively force himself to push it down the longer they stand there, stock still.

Because on top of the first aid kit is a harmless green sticky note. Something he had written a lifetime ago and pushed to the recesses of his mind, thinking it was just an innocent act.

If you’re using this, that means you hurt yourself. Which means getting treated personally by yours truly. Don’t even try to talk your way out of it. I love you babe, but no amount of kisses will distract me.

P.S. I know exactly what’s in here. If there’s even a single piece of tissue missing, consequences will occur

There’s even a poorly drawn face with its tongue sticking out at the end along with a heart, and TK suddenly wants to go back in time to when he decided to write it at all. A day like any other, basking in the excitement of being newlyweds, a minor kitchen accident, his laughter ringing around them as he grabbed a sticky note and pen, scribbling down something hastily and sticking it on the kit before joining his husband.

He takes in a wobbly breath, and through blurry eyes he sees Carlos running his fingers reverently along the words, tracing every single letter, leaving none behind. His fingertips stop on the ‘I love you’ and the heart, and before his fingers finish tracing it, TK hears a sound that has his soul snap in two.

Unrelenting sobs fill the air around them, and he blinks against the tears in his eyes as he watches Carlos slowly slinking down onto the bathroom tiles, clutching the first aid kit towards his chest. His shoulders are shaking violently, both arms wrapped protectively around the kit, which gives him a clear view of his husband’s tears running down his cheeks without abandon.

He slowly sinks down beside him, leaning against the sink base cabinet, feeling the faintest outline of warmth from where their arms brushed against each other. He leans his head down, mere millimeters away from Carlos and closes his eyes as he quietly listens to his husband’s cries.

“I miss you too,” TK whispers, smiling against the silent tears that had slipped down his cheeks as he reaches forward with a hand hovering over the sticky note, right next to where one of Carlos’ was. “And I love you. So much.”

He wonders if Carlos knew that right now, he would have given anything just to say those words to him one last time out loud. To hold him in his arms, murmuring sweet nothings. To feel the way Carlos would clutch at him, holding each other so close until they felt each other’s heartbeats, sharing each other’s warmth.

He would give anything, just to have five seconds more with the love of his life.

“I know you wouldn’t want me to be, but I’m sorry,” TK murmurs, licking his lips and not tasting the usual saltiness of his tears that he didn’t bother to wipe away. The tears that disappeared into oblivion anyway, from his lack of corporeal form. “I’m sorry you have to go through this so soon. I’m sorry for fighting my hardest and it still not being enough.”

Carlos’ cries had quieted slightly, but there were still sniffles and occasional quiet coughs, and TK stares at the dried tear stains on his cheeks, wanting nothing more than to wipe them away, leaving soft kisses in their wake.

“I love you with everything that I am, Carlos Strand-Reyes, and I hope you won’t ever forget that,” TK says steadily, feeling what was left of his body aching with the overflowing love he had for the man sitting in front of him. He lifts his only free hand to brush a stray curl away from Carlos’ eyes, but closes his eyes sadly as his hand slips through.

He sits back, placing both hands right beside where Carlos’ own rested, looking up at him reverently.

“We’ll see each other again. Hopefully not until the far future but when we do,” TK is sure the smile he’s currently donning is one of Carlos’ favourites, his eyes crinkling tenderly at the sides. Leaning forward, he presses one last lingering kiss to his husband’s temple.

His body is slowly fading away, a weird tingly sensation filling him as he drifts away into the light.

The last thing he sees is Carlos cradling the sticky note in the palms of his hands carefully, the faintest of smiles painting across his lips.

“I’ll hold you in my arms again.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #warning: major character death #911lsangstweek

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honey-makki · 4 years

Text

Irreconcilable

Characters: Asahi Azumane X GN!Reader

Summary: Asahi’s mental health can be debilitating sometimes. Taking a toll on himself and relationships with others, but how far will they go to help him?

Warnings: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts

Song: this is me trying- taylor swift

Genre: angst/comfort

Count: 2k

A/N: please head the warnings. this discusses and is an explicit portrayl of anxiety and depression with references to suicidal thoughts. it isn’t “fun” but nevertheless i think its good. at least it felt good to write,

Asahi hasn’t left his bed yet today, rather listening to the rain and staring up at the ceiling, wondering how long it’ll be before he can fall asleep again. This isn’t an uncommon situation for him, his figure shrouded in darkness and enveloped by the blankets on his bed. The occasional buzz of his phone goes unnoticed.

The darkness of the room shifts throughout the day, casting heavier shadows on his bed in the afternoon, shadows that he can feel the weight of on his chest. They mirror the heavy feeling in his heart and the discontent in his head. Would sorry have made any difference? It’s just a word, a word I would have struggled to even say.

The passage of time seems like its just a theoretical concept until the gnawing pain of hunger starts to peek through. He’s not hungry per se, but his body is telling him that three days without eating is way too long. The tinge of pain is a welcome feeling, no matter how fleeting.

It would still be a few hours before Asahi made his way to the kitchen, long after his flatmates are asleep, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. There isn’t a reason he can articulate for the way he looks, hair messy and unwashed, deep circles under his eyes despite sleeping most of the time, and his thinning frame drawing in his seemingly oversized old volleyball jacket.

He doesn’t even think he would try to come up with an excuse should they see him, the effort seeming monumental for little to no reward. He’s gotten to the point where he isn’t hiding it, any actions to make it easier to deal with, like using the kitchen sparingly and only at odd hours, are just due to convenience not fear of response.

Holding a bowl of cheese puffs and a long-forgotten packet of Takenoko No Sato Asahi makes his way back to his room, each footstep silent. Sitting in his desk chair he pops something in his mouth, not really sure if it was sweet or savory because to him they all taste the same, something akin to cardboard, or wood chips uncomfortably dry in his mouth.

The milk carton he grabbed out of the fridge doesn’t taste much better. It feels thick, so much so that he isn’t sure he will be able to swallow (or stomach) it. He might as well be drinking a bottle of unscented lotion, and even then that might be better.

He isn’t sure how long has passed since he keeps zoning out, but the bowl of leftover puffs look about as appetizing as styrofoam peanuts, and he knows that if he doesn’t get them out fo his room, he might be sick. Being sick is a lot more effort than sneaking to the kitchen, that is as long as it’s late.

He finally checks his phone after what has been, hours? A day? Maybe three days? It’s not the brightness of the screen that hurts, or the way all the notifications make his heart race, its the background picture that makes it nye impossible to use. Its you.

Seeing your smiling face next to his, he recognizes every single square millimeter of your face, long ago committed to memory. He could paint it blindfolded if he needed to, but the person next to you? He doesn’t see himself looking back. The clear skin, the glow, the beaming smile, the light in his eyes. Maybe its liveliness, maybe its adoration, maybe its gratitude, but regardless, he doesn’t retain nor deserves any of those emotions.

It’s his fault he’s here alone in his room staring at a bug climbing the wall. step. step. step. Each leg of the ant moving in unison, carrying it to some future that it can imagine. How depressing is it that an ant has a brighter future than I do? Every second he spends looking at the ant is one less second he is being drawn deeper into the tumultuous whirlpool of dread in his head.

The buzz of his phone clacks against the ceramic bowl, discordant in the otherwise silent room. The noise acts as a life preserver he feels oddly obligated to take out of the water, looking down to see your name across the screen. For the second time today, he feels something, earlier it was clearly defined and compartmentalized hunger, now? It’s a ceaseless swirl of resigned hopelessness, despair, anxiety, irritation, and a deep sense of being unworthy of all of these feelings.

Its easier when he isn’t reminded of you.

He doesn’t plan on responding to your simple ‘hey.’but the follow up of ‘dai said you aren’t well, let’s talk’ still everything but his mind. He can’t breathe in, he can’t move his thumbs to lock his phone or reply to you, all he can do is think about is how this could only go horribly wrong, but that you cared, at least cared enough about him to check-in. Even after everything he did.

Asahi: We can talk on the phone later I guess, y/n

Y/N: i’ll be over tonight at 7, i still have a key.

7pm. That’s 6 hours away according to his phone. The concept of time mattering feels foreign, should he nap? Take a shower? How long are normal showers? Should he clean his room? Does his room even need to be cleaned? Wash his sheets? Before long he finds himself on the floor, head in his hands with tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t recall getting there or starting to cry, it feels like the tears have always been there, each tear track carving out a trail in his skin, creating invisible canyons. They’re always there, maybe invisible or dry, but the tear tracks are still there.

The faint thud of his pulse ringing in his head is one of the only things his dulled sense can take in. he can’t place if he’s developed a migraine and the thud is twangs of pain or if he’s just, not here. Living what can only be described as the inverse of an out of body experience, everything else around him fading out into black, leaving him alone in an infinite black universe.

The weight of something on his head brings him back to earth. His head leans up and out of his peripheral sees your knees as you sit on his bed. A small whine leaves his throat as you begin to scratch and massage his scalp. Asahi can’t remember the last time he was touched by another person, and he doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. Your fingers are massaging fatigue out of his bones, undoing tension he’s caring in his shoulders.

It’s illogical that the light touches from each of your fingertips on his scalp can undo so much damage to his body, but that’s a skill you honed over time, and you can visibly see him become grounded.

“Asahi you know I can’t keep doing this. I would do this every day for the rest of my life if asked because I know it helps, but I hate seeing you like this. I’m scared that one day I’m going--” your chocked sobs are finally audible enough for him to perceive, “that you are gonna be too far gone. I wouldn’t be able to take that Asahi. Life without you is hard enough, I don’t want to imagine a world without you.”

He knew his mental health issues affected you, its the whole reason he left you in the first place, feeling guilty for you having to take care of him and him not making any progress. But he didn’t realize how scared you were. That he might just wither away, or suddenly not be here anymore. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about it more than once, but never taking any tangible steps forward.

He still hasn’t said anything, but after a few minutes of you both crying, he just nods his head. You aren’t exactly sure what that means, but his voice croaks out, “help. I’ll get help.” The admission wasn’t something you expected but the hoarseness of his voice from crying or nonuse makes it all the more real. That maybe you were right to worry, and you were right to set this ultimatum.

A few hours later, you leave Asahi’s apartment, he fell asleep after you helped him bathe and changed his sheets. You left phone numbers of multiple psychologists and therapists, and an offer that you would make an appointment if he couldn’t find the willpower to do so. You have a cup of tea with Daichi before you leave, telling him about Asahi wanting to get help. You ask him to try to make sure that Asahi is doing at least the bare minimum or eating real food once a day and showering. Small steps eventually add up to a healthier person.

Months pass, where you and Asahi exchange a few text messages, detailing about he found a therapist, and his journey to find a medication that made him feel better and not worse. The conversations are long, but they always leave you hopeful about his progress.

You expected the knock on the door to be your take out but instead are looking at the chest of a much taller man. You look up to see Asahi’s face, a nervous smile looking down at you. His skin looks healthier, not as pallid or marred with deep sleeplessness, his hair is up in a bun, but you can see how much healthier it looks. The most notable change is that you can see light in his eyes. There’s something in there, hope maybe or just contentment with his growth. But there’s something, something that he made on his own and can hold onto.

Sure there are still signs that he isn’t fully back to the Asahi you met a long time ago, his hair is still thin, his frame is still not as filled out as it once was, but is definitely in a healthier range, his smile isn’t 100% confident and doesn’t seem to fully reach his eyes, but he looks good. And if he’s here, he must be feeling good.

“Hey y/n, I’ve been doing a lot better recently and my therapist said I should come and speak my mind. First, let me give you the most genuine and heartfelt thank you I can muster. If you hadn’t said what you did that one evening, I would never have gotten help and I honestly might not be here.”

His words are confident and sincere. They sound a little rehearsed, which is endearing. Asahi was never the most eloquent or poised person when it comes to feelings, but his declarations of love were always true in the deepest sense of the word. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face even if you wanted to, not when he’s done so much, not when he’s trying so hard.

“I might perceive the world as darker and more hellish than it actually is sometimes, but I’m gonna try again and again to soothe my heart and pick the flowers growing in the midst of hell. You are one of those flowers, a light in the darkness that motivates and assures me that all is well. If you would like, I want to grab coffee with you, like old times.”

Your bodies are bathed in golden sunlight from the window behind you, giving your nod a lucent halo. The halo fades as you step out and close the door behind you, but the glow doesn’t, it’s part of him, part of you.

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @haikyuuhotline @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life @laughingismorefun @iguessimastannow

#asahi #azumane asahi #asahi azumane #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #hq!!#hq!! fanfiction #asahi x y/n #asahi x reader #asahi azumane x y/n #asahi azumane x reader #kristen writes #folklore series #folklore #tw depression #tw anxiety #tw suicide

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3pirouette · 4 years

Text

Fic: An Experimental Design (5/?)

Title: An Experimental Design

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts. Takes place about a week after that fic.

A/N: So, despite my realization (with the help of a fabulous anon) that once Bucky falls off the train there’s only a day to maybe a week of time that passes before Steve takes down the Valkyrie, I’ve decided that in this fic it’s way more time, and that’s super important to the plot. Bucky went down months ago, at least 6. Please just go with it.

Also, this is now rated EXPLICIT. if you’re not into adult content, well… believe me, you’ll know when to stop. (But if you’re already here, I’m pretty sure you don’t care about adult content ;) )

Also, I REALLY need to know if some of your headcanons were right. Please tell me!!

Chapter 5: The Experiment

~*~

“We found about a third of a file from some other poor woman. Age, height, eye color don’t match Peg.” Howard chewed on his lip as he slid the file over to them. Steve, holding Peggy’s hand under the table, took the file and pushed it between them, flipping to the first page. “It’s an offshoot of something they’ve dubbed the Winter Soldier Project.” Steve eyes popped up in interest, but Howard just shook his head. “We haven’t found much else on that except the name and it involves a single male subject. At least for now.”

“Give us the short version,” Peggy said smartly, pulling her eyes away from the documents.

Howard sighed, wringing his hands together. “Well… it’s…” He started and stopped, looking anywhere but them.

Steve couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. “It’s that bad?”

Howard slumped back. “It’s not good.”

In her usual fashion, Peggy was still the most pragmatic in the room. “Then, out with it.”

“The uh, one page has a name on it: Project Anchor.” He sat tall again and pulled the file from them, looking for the right translated pages. “I don’t know how this works, so don’t ask. We’re missing massive amounts of data. And to be honest, I’m really only guessing at a lot of it.”

“Howard…” Steve prompted, forcing the man to look up at him.

He swallowed, finally looking his friends in the eyes. “It seems their Winter Soldier Project is akin to our Project Rebirth. Project Anchor was their way to… to keep their man under control.”

Peggy eyed him warily, “Keep the man under control? Then why experiment specifically on women?”

Howard rubbed his face, clearing his throat. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and looked Peggy in the eyes. “Because the woman was what was going to keep him under control. The anchor. They were trying to pair bond their subject to a woman. Create false love, or need, and then use her as collateral.”

Steve looked over at Peggy, taking her hand and squeezing tightly. “Give him a reason to stay in line.”

Howard nodded. “Exactly.” He scratched his head then laid three pages out before them, pointing. “This page refers to some kind of injection derived from their variant of the serum. Our linguistics guy says he thinks they’ve created some of these terms, because there aren’t clear translations. Best he can translate and I can tease out it works like some kind of bacteria or virus, bonding itself to cells through the subject’s body- specifically on the nervous system- which allows it to act as an irritant.” He shifted to the next page. “This talks about a two part process, but we haven’t been able to find anything about the second part, or even if they were able to get to it.” He pointed at the third page, eyes on Peggy. “This page describes the same kinds of pain you’re talking about, Peggy, but just the pain part. I don’t think they ever introduced their subject to their male counterpart, so she only ever felt pain.”

Despite Steve holding her hand, Howard could see Peggy’s anxiety ratchet up, her breathing get shallow as her heart rate started to go up with fear. “What happened to her, Howard?”

He stroked his mustache, trying to avoid saying, but he knew they’d read it for themselves. He gathered the papers and shuffled them together, slipping them back into the folder. “She died.” He coughed, folding his hands. “Supposedly they were going to do an autopsy, but we don’t have that page.”

“Well, what do you have?” Steve asked, his tone dark and eyes starting to narrow. “You’ve got to give us something to work with here, Howard!”

“You think I’m not trying to?” Howard shot back sharply. “If Erskine were still here we’d have a hope, a hope, of really understanding what’s going on. The cellular biology was all him. I’ve got a handle on it, but there is so much that I don’t know…”

“Well, you should!” Steve pounded his fist on the table. “We need more than this!”

“Steve!” Peggy, took her other hand, laying it on his shoulder, “he’s doing his best.”

Steve groused, eyes on Howard. “Well, it’s not good enough.”

“I’ve got that,” Howard said strongly, chin set as he pointed at Steve. Steve, still incensed, didn’t budge, but Peggy turned, interested. “You’re not like this, Steve. You’ve never raised your voice at anyone as long as I’ve known you unless they were Hydra and on the wrong side of your shield.” Howard shook his head and pulled out the paper from his pocket. “I haven’t shown anyone this.”

Peggy and Steve read the two and a half sentences; Peggy gripping Steve’s hand tighter. “Breeding?”

“They had to have more than that one woman and you, Peg. There had to be so much more research somewhere that got them to this point. I’m looking, and I can’t find it, but I know it. They’ve been developing and testing this for far too long for us to not notice.” He sighed. “Whatever’s in your body reacted to the serum in Steve. Maybe it was when you touched, or it had to be a body fluid transfer when you kissed or something to that effect. I don’t know yet, but it’s in you, too, Steve.” Howard looked sadly at his friend. “It apparently wasn’t enough to make the woman be in lust or love, to tug on this poor guy’s heartstrings ‘cause she was in jeopardy, they’re altering the male counterpart, too, to feel hyper aggressive and hyper protective.”

“Like animals in heat,” Peggy mused out loud, disturbed. Her chin wavered as she pieced it together. “They give their soldier a mate that he cares about, loves even, and then threatens her with pain and even death if he’s gone too long, all the while hyping up his system so…”

“So that he’ll do anything to guarantee her safety.” Steve hung his head, unable to look at Howard. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Howard said softly. “I think that’s the understatement of the year.”

Steve hung his head, running his free hand through his hair. “So, what do we do?”

Howard only frowned at them.

~*~

The small base dorm room meant for visiting ranking officials wasn’t the worst place she’d ever been, but the fact that she knew Steve was on the other side of the wall and they weren’t going to be allowed to see one another until she was writhing in pain was absolutely weighing on her mind.

She knew it was their only course of action. It didn’t mean she had to like it. She sat on the bed, thinking she should be happy that Howard at least had a lead as to what was going on, but it left her hollow. The what was bad enough, but the why was swirling in her brain.

They’d planned to introduce her to a man she didn’t know and bond her to him forever by rage and pain.

And potentially children they planned on weaponizing.

She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that Steve had managed to touch her first.

~*~

It had only been an hour, but Steve was pacing like a caged tiger in the room next to Peggy’s.

He knew, deep down, Howard was right. He knew he hadn’t been behaving rationally when it came to Peggy since he’d brought her back. He should have made her go see Howard, shouldn’t have allowed her to hide for as long as she did.

But now, he could see it.

He could think back and realize there was more at work than just the love and care that had building withing him from the moment he met her. The drive, the desire to keep her safe reverberated in the back of his skull, fighting with the rational part of him. It felt like an animal was trying to claw its way out of himself.

He had to force himself to not pounce on the nurse who knocked on his door and came in with a smile, tasked with taking his vitals and drawing blood.

~*~

Four hours in, Howard stared at her as the nurse drew her blood. “It would be more helpful if we could take samples from you every hour, just like Steve, but you won’t recover as fast.”

Peggy nodded, looking away as the nurse filled the vials. “If I have to feel like a pincushion for a bit, just make it worth it.”

He nodded, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. “Give me a rundown of your symptoms.”

“Fingertips and toes are starting to get numb, arms are achy, and my chest feels heavy.” She rubbed her arm as the nurse stepped back, watching as the woman pulled out a thermometer and blood pressure cuff.

“Zero to ten?” he asked without looking up.

“One.” She held her mouth open and let the nurse slide the thermometer in, taking around it. “Took much longer to start to come on this time. Usually, my fingers start to tingle as soon as I leave him.”

Howards eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

~*~

Six hours and counting, and he didn’t want to eat. Didn’t feel hungry. Couldn’t concentrate. All he kept thinking about was that Peggy was on the other side of the wall and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

Howard had stopped asking how he felt when he came in every hour, on the hour, mostly because he didn’t need to. Steve couldn’t stop himself from ranting at the man, a man who was his friend, for keeping them apart.

Even though he knew why they were doing it. Even though he understood exactly why it was so important they had real, tangible data about what was happening in his and Peggy’s bodies so Howard could find some way to fix or counteract it.

The only thing Steve found he was able to do was pace, keep moving, and try to burn off the anger and anxiety building up in him.

~*~

At eight hours in she was a four, little shocks of lightning through her body, everything hypersensitive, muscles starting to feel tight and painful, head swimming and aching. It was all she could do to sit up and talk to Howard when they came in to check on her. Though they didn’t draw blood every time, they still had her spit in a vile, checked her pulse and blood pressure, checked her temperature.

If Howard was finding anything, he was being tight lipped.

Peggy wasn’t sure if the anxiety of the experiment was ratcheting everything up, or of the knowledge that Steve was just on the other side of the wall made her feel more on edge.

She knew what happened to her at a 5, and at a 6, and once she hit a seven she wasn’t sure how long she could go without walking through that door.

~*~

Howard locked Steve’s door at hour nine, though he knew it wouldn’t stop him if he was determined. He locked Peggy’s door at hour eleven as her pain started creeping up exponentially faster. She could only tell him so much as her mind unfocused quickly as they talked, distracted by the agony she was feeling.

He could only run each test so fast, but the logs were filling up with data quickly. So quickly, he wasn’t going to have time to analyze it, but rather just keep running each test until he had all of it.

He had no idea what any of it meant yet.

~*~

Howard found her sitting on the floor, most of her clothes torn off until she was in just her slip, pressed against the wall.

“Peg?” he asked softly, shooing the nurse behind him back into the hallway.

“I’m right here,” he heard Steve’s voice through the wall, “I promise. I’m so close, Peg.”

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she sobbed, the tears falling fast. “It hurts everywhere.”

“What are you at? How bad?”

“Eight,” she muttered, letting her forehead fall against the wall. “It’s an eight, but I know what’s coming.”

Howard slipped back out, sure she’d known he was there, but unwilling to eavesdrop anymore.

~*~

“You have to let her get to a ten!” Howard shouted at Steve. He hated that the man could hear her moans from his room, hated that Steve was forced to let her wallow like this, experiment or not.

“I don’t have to anything!” Steve yelled, moving forward.

Howard stepped back. Even though he was reasonably certain Steve wouldn’t hurt him, he wasn’t used to this side of the man. Howard, for his part, still didn’t back down, it was one of his more pigheaded traits. “Well, if you want me to figure out what’s wrong with her, you do have to.”

They heard Peggy moan through the wall, a pitiful, guttural sound. Howard had just come from there. Her eight was creeping up to a nine in record time.

Steve moved forward again, but this time Howard pressed himself up against the door, arms splayed out to try to keep Steve from leaving. “Just remember this, Steve: you go in there right now, we have to do this again. If you touch her before she gets to a ten, we have to do this to her again. Don’t make me do that. You know I don’t want to.”

Steve looked at him, eyes dark and angry, and paced away, growling in frustration.

“Just…” Howard took a deep breath, “Just try to hold it together for her, ok?” He opened the door, stopping halfway out. “Do it for her.”

~*~

Peggy couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried to hold back, tried to stay quiet, but she couldn’t breathe when she buried her head into the pillow to muffle the cries. The pain had crept up on her fast, growing in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She couldn’t help the moans, had the let something try to get out with the screams.

She couldn’t come up with ideas and theories, not when her head was pounding like her skull was too small and her whole body ached with muscle pain and her joints felt like they were full of broken glass and there were electrical shocks everywhere through her.

“Tell me this is it, Peg,” Howard pleaded, kneeling at her bedside. “Just say ten. All you gotta say is ten and I can let this be over…”

She moaned as the nurse drew a vile of blood. The nurse and Howard both jumped when they heard the first bang against the wall.

Steve.

“Peg, just say ten. Then I can let him in.” Another bang shook the painting off the wall, the glass shattering on the floor. “We’ll be out of here and you two do whatever you need to do to make this right, ok?” Another crash, this time accompanied by the sound of the plaster cracking. “Just say ten, please?”

She curled into a ball on the bed, not reacting to the way the plaster was starting to chip or how Steve’s rhythm quickened as she writhed.

“Jesus,” Howard stood, rubbing his hands over his mouth. “I’m calling it. It’s a ten. She can’t even talk.”

The nurse was about to ask him to help her take Peggy’s blood pressure when the wall across from them boomed, a large crack running down the middle.

He grabbed her arm, pulling swiftly. “Nope. Out. You don’t want to be here for this.”

~*~

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop.

There was a part of him that said the door is right there but there was another part of him, a bigger part of him, that needed to get to Peggy and he knew that she was just on the other side of that wall.

He’d listened, powerless, as she cried out for hours, as she tried to bear the pain herself when he was so close.

He’d sat on the floor, talking to her through the plaster until she couldn’t string sentences together anymore. He stayed there, feeling just a little bit closer to her, even when he’d heard Howard and the nurse lift her back into the bed.

He’d stood, faced the wall, and there was only one choice: through. So he’d punched it. And again, and again. It felt good to punch it, like there was something he was doing, something he could do, to make this better.

But punching wasn’t enough. It chipped the plaster and made a small hole, but he wasn’t going to get through the wall just by punching. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and fell against it, shoulder first.

He didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything, but smiled to himself when the plaster on his side started falling away, the wall bowed out. He pulled the chunks of plaster down, breathing heavy as he knew his mission was almost over. He was almost there. He took two steps back, and ran.

~*~

Steve crashed into Peggy’s room just as the door closed behind Howard. He skidded to a halt, plaster dust on him, broken glass and wall at his feet.

Peggy looked up from the bed, another cry falling from her lips as she curled in on herself.

He pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, ripping it off as he took two steps to the bed, falling to his knees and crawling up her body. Steve wasn’t thinking, only reacting, as he ripped the slip from her skin, baring her fully to him. He dropped down, pressing his bare upper body to hers, the touch of skin-to-skin pulsing through them like warm water rushing over them. Her arms clamped around him, holding him to her as his face rooted against her neck, licking and kissing the skin. “I’m here,” he mumbled against her neck. “I’m here.”

She could only concentrate on breathing, the press of him against her washing over her, soothing and igniting her at the same time. Pain slowly ratcheted down and started to move to needing and wanting as he kissed and licked along her collar bone, his hips rutting against hers as she tried to wrap her thighs around him.

She pulled him down, his weight pressing her into the mattress giving her just the tiniest bit more relief. Her breath caught when his lips found hers, his tongue already insistent and tasing her, despite her lazy, uncoordinated attempts to kiss him back. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore, it felt heavy and weighted and like she was fighting to come back to life.

“What do you need?” he asked, dragging his lips to her ear to suck on her earlobe. “Tell me.” She didn’t know how to form words, couldn’t make her mouth do more than suck at the skin of his shoulder. She pulled him close, pushing her hands down over his back to his hips, clawing ineffectually at the waistband of his pants.

He knew what he wanted, knew what his body was screaming at him, what his body wanted him to take and how he wanted to do it, but he needed her to say it. Needed to know that despite everything that had happened to them, she wanted the same. He dragged his face back up, pulling away just inches to look at her.

Her eyes blinked open and her limbs tightened as he pulled away, the fear clear in her gaze that she thought he was trying to get away from her.

“Tell me,” he tried to whisper, tightening his embrace, but his voice was harsh and gruff.

Her chin wavered, the fear falling away as she tried to catch her breath. “You,” she finally breathed out. “All of you.”

His kiss was fierce, deep and demanding and she felt it set her heart beating harder. He pressed up on one elbow, pushing the other hand between them and fumbling with his belt and pants. She tried to help him, pushing with her feet as he pushed down with his one hand, his pants and boxers moving stiltedly down his legs at the same time.

His pants caught at his ankles, bunching around the boots he never took off. He moved to stand but Peggy held tight, moving more from muscle memory than from conscious thought as she flipped him over, body pressed tight to his.

She shook as she pressed up on her knees, hand reaching between them to wrap around his length, hot and hard in her palm. She watched him struggle to stay still under her, felt his hands flex and relax against her skin, the grip tightening only barely perceptibly. She moved slowly, eyes locked on his, as she lifted her hips and shifted him into position, bit her lip as she sank down on him and moaned.

She threw her head back when her hips met his, groaning at the tendrils of pleasure that finally, finally started moving through her, cooling spirals through every inch that neutralized the pain and sparked passion, true passion, that wasn’t dictated by a feeling or a sensation.

Peggy wanted to look, wanted to see Steve beneath her, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to open her eyes, she couldn’t even quite make herself move as she wallowed in the sensation of the pain finally, finally leaving her body.

She could feel his hands at her hips, fingers tightening and loosening with each breath. She grabbed them, dragged them up her body until he was palming her breasts, gently squeezing under her own hands. She let her hands slide down his arms, landing at his shoulders by touch alone, her breath finally coming in slow, deep breaths instead of the shallow stilted gasps she could barely manage before from the pain.

Eyes still closed, she began to rock her hips against his, small movements that made him moan under her. Tiny, little changes in direction that made the pleasure spark through her system like fireworks. His fingers found her nipples, playing and teasing as her movements became bolder, as she started to find a rhythm. She took her hands and moved them back up to his, plastering his hands to her body moaning, “more,” under her breath a she moved her hands up and down his arms.

He moved his hand as she blinked open her eyes for the first time, looking down at him, lust glazing her eyes over. He pressed his palm up over her chest, around her neck and up to cradle her cheek. She turned her head into his hand, closing her eyes again as her hips gained speed, nuzzling into his hand and nipping at his thumb before sucking it deep in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. He moaned as her lips mimicked her hips movement.

“More,” she moaned again, this time frustration tinging her words.

Steve moved swiftly, gathering her in his arms rolling, despite the handicap of having both feet effectively tied together. Peggy moaned happily buried underneath him, nuzzling into his body and rubbing every inch against him, her hips rocking against his as she wound her legs around his hips. He could feel the feral haze starting to dissipate, the need and want purely his own. He hiked her legs up higher on his hips, slipping from her body. She frowned, moving to correct it when he held her still. “Just…wait.”

He waited until she’s stilled, then kicked one leg to the side ferociously, ripping his pants down the seam and freeing him from the restriction. He smiled won at her, wagging his eyebrows. She licked her lips, smiling up at him as he slid himself back home, flexing his hips deep within her.

She writhed under him as he began to move, clawing at his back to pull him closer. “Take me, Steve,” she whispered, holding on as his hips drove deeper into her. She moaned lewdly, the rumble in her chest from the noise spurring him on to press harder and faster as she buried her head is his neck, her hot breath pouring over him.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours that they held one another, pressed tight as one body, moving and breathing and crying out together as he brought her higher and higher. As she moved one hand, finding that bundle of nerves that just couldn’t quite get touched at this angle. As he replaced her hand with his, causing her to arch off the bed with his touch. As she fell apart under him, her body tightening around him as she cried out, pushing him past his own edge of sanity until there was nothing left except them breathing heavy, a pile of spent, sweaty limbs.

He didn’t ask a number as he gathered her against him. He didn’t care about the shreds of fabric and heavy boots he still wore as he pulled the bedsheet over them.

He just wanted to sleep and to keep her safe, always.

#Steggy Fic #Steggy Bingo Bash #3P's Fic #This one got away from me #and it's very adult #featuring feral Steve

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minnochu · 4 years

Text

Lustrous (pt. 18)

Hybrid!Kook x Fem!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19

Warning: A copious amount of dialogue :’)

(A/n): Hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe and healthy! Just remember to stay humble and kind and take this time if you’re self-quarantining to practice self-love!! Hope you enjoy :’)

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Namjoon asks when the whole pack has taken their seats at the dinner table the next morning, and the others notice one seat has yet to be filled. They look towards the hybrid in question, who averts his eyes.

“She left,” he muttered, swirling his chopsticks around in his bowl of fried rice.

The others grow alarmed at this. Jimin piping up from beside him, “What do you mean, she left?”

The younger grows irate in result, his eyes glaring a bright blue at the other wolf, “She. Left.”

“And why didn’t you stop her?” Yoongi calmly interjected as Seokjin whispers a small spell to pull the two wolves’ chairs apart, “You were with her last night, weren’t you?”

He flinches at that, eyes dimming in result. It was true. There was no denying that fact.

The elder’s eyes narrow at the youngest pack member, “Stop being a fucking prick and explain to us why exactly the one person we need to protect is running away from us.”

Namjoon clears his throat as tension continues to rise, opening his eyes to flash his golden irises dangerously in warning at the pensive pack members, “I think we should eat first before the food gets cold, we’ll discuss this later.” His eyes briefly meets the youngest and the whole table settles down into a heavy silence. Jungkook’s shoulders sag as a result, clamping his mouth and turning his attention to his meal. Angry Namjoon was not one to mess with.

The warlock releases a relieved sigh at the temporary cease fire and makes work to levitate dishes and food from the kitchen. He quietly prays he won’t have to clean up too much of a mess if anything escalates to anything more than a peaceful explanation. The aura surrounding the boys is turbulent, no doubt insinuating a quarrel when the food has finally been devoured.

“Gods help me,” the warlock sighs.

“Want to explain to me why you’re suddenly phasing into my attic at such a god awful hour?” Yahiko smiles softly as she sets down a blanket and pillows on your old bed. You ran to the one place you could only think of, your old home with the kitsune. You had crash landed, phasing in mid air before dropping with a loud thud on the wooden floor. The elderly woman had come rushing with her orbs flashing fiery orange, only to calm down when you came running into her arms.

She didn’t question it at first, welcoming you back into your old room with a mug of warm milk and honey, but you knew she would ask eventually.

“Don’t forget that I’m a kitsune, child,” she quirks a smile, “I may be over thousands of years older than you, but I still have a keen sense of smell.”

“And you reek,” she cackles, causing you to blush and smile in embarrassment. Dainty fingers push the locks of your hair behind your ear, “What troubles you? I smell distress and conflict within you.”

You mull over what to say first, about Jungkook, about your apparent feelings for him, about the Blackwells.

“Is it that wolf-boy?” She muses nonchalantly, only speaking hypothetically, not expecting you to flinch from beside her, nearly sputtering and choking on the contents of your mug. “Oh, I’m correct?”

“There’s a lot on my mind right now,” You defend helplessly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Including that boy, no?”

Your shoulders sag in defeat, there was no denying it to her.

“It’s complicated…”

Yahiko makes a face, tapping the tip of your nose with her index finger, “You act like I had never dated a man before, (Y/n).”

“I, like many supernatural creatures, had a mate. He’s not here right now, but I assure you he’s watching over me,” She smiles softly, reminiscing her years with her fated, “He was a human, if you didn’t already connect the dots. I imprinted on him a long time ago, and the stupid man outgrew me.” The kitsune chuckled softly, glancing upward as if she could see his spirit watching her.

“What was that like?” You ask tentatively, although it made you feel worse thinking about how this must be how Jungkook feels about Hyejin. The realization is a smack in the face, he must be hurting out of rejection from his fated.

Yahiko elbows you with a wry smile, “Your face is like an open book, child.”

“He was my world, to put it simply, losing him hurt. A lot. I wanted to die with him,” she says solemnly, “I wonder sometimes how I still do it when I still miss him very much.”

“How did you know he was yours? He was human right? He didn’t reject you for being a kitsune?” The elderly woman glances at you with amusement stretching her lips, causing you to clamp your mouth shut. As your cheeks burn from embarrassment, she can only laugh good naturedly at your curiosity.

“You like that wolf very much, don’t you?” she sighs, “I must say, I have to apologize for rudely assuming that he’d hurt you based on the color of his true eyes. I hope he’s treating you well.”

Your silence proves her hypothesis correct, you like Jungkook, and that scares you. It hurts to know that he’ll only ever pine for Hyejin’s affection despite her obvious indifference towards him.

“I was initially terrified, all the others in my family were mated to creatures of the same kind if not different types - such as the thunder kitsune - so then why was I different? We were taught to stay away from the humans… since at that time, the supernatural and the humans had not yet finalized the pact for peace and bounty hunters were much more prevalent than today. He was one of them.” She pauses to regard your gaping mouth, snickering when she taps your chin to shut it, “It felt like everything was just right when I met his gaze, but he didn’t know it then and tried to kill me. Of course, I overpowered him and let him go, but every time we encountered one another, we began to talk and understand the other and get to know one another as a living being. I told him about my family and showed off my powers” she emphasizes by holding out a dainty hand with her palm facing towards the ceiling and a spark of golden foxfire ignites abruptly from her fingertips, “In turn, he talked about his life, his fiance, his guilt for hunting my brethren when he realized we weren’t evil or to be feared of.”

“Fiance?!” You gasp as you watch the flames disperse and the light has died down from her hand.

“Yes, yes,” she frowns, “He had a fiance at the time, and it hurt, alot. Every time he brought her up, I wanted to change the subject, it filled me with envy and pain. Each time he said her name with that stupidly handsome smile on his face, it was like a sword twisting in my gut.”

“I thought I could’ve lived with the pain, or mate with a widow from another pack, but it wasn’t the same, and he saw that sadness in my eyes.”

“He confronted me about it, and I spilled. I told him about the imprinting, about my feelings. Gods that man was so infuriating, made me actually scared for my life if he were to be disgusted at my affections. Humans… they are quite fickle beings when it comes to love. Is this real? Is this your actual feelings, and not something forced upon you by the stars or your inner beast or what have you? I wondered those silly questions myself… but I wouldn’t have wanted any other man if suddenly the next day, I wasn’t bound by my imprintee.”

You wonder if that were the case with your friend. The idea of being imprinted on and its implications may have caused Hyejin to believe that Jungkook had no real affections for her. It wasn’t like she was chosen at random, you suppose, the stars saw it fit that the two were meant for each other, soulmates as you would put it. Fated for one another. So, why did she fear and hate him so much when he could be anything she wanted him to be. He would be at her every beck and call.

Fuck. That hurt.

You liked Jungkook. That revelation on the rooftop hurt. Finally you could put a name to the emotions you felt around the wolf-boy, but it didn’t lessen the pain of knowing he was meant for someone else, your closest and only friend made at school. At least… other than the boys.

Yahiko saw it, she could feel the conflict dripping off of you in tangible waves. You didn’t know it, but she knew with the way Jungkook acted and looked at you the way he did. It reminded her of her own situation, she only hoped the whole ordeal would sort itself out quickly. Else you would spend years hurting each other.

Children, she inwardly giggled at the coincidence of the predicament, if only they knew how to communicate properly. Although she couldn’t say much with the way she and her human mate had also suffered the same conflict.

“Did he say so himself, that he imprinted on her?”

Um. Well.

The way you hesitate speaks volumes. Now that she mentions it, he didn’t really deny it or confirm it. The more he called you out for being nosy continually irritated you, why couldn’t he just give you a straight answer for once?

“Give the boy some time to sort out his feelings, my dear,” She sighs, “He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

“I’m not sure he’ll ever be,” you frown, “I don’t know what I’m waiting for, it seems like just last night I realized I… I like him… but who’s to say that he feels the same when he can barely open up to me, Hyejin pops up and he just stops functioning, and now!” You stammer your confession more lowly, barely above a whisper, with a beet red face.

You freeze as the woman lays a gentle hand over yours. Then do you realize the way your lip had begun quivering.

“How am I supposed to face him?”

“You don’t,” Yahiko says after much silence, “Leave them alone long enough and he’ll sort out his feelings soon enough and give you a proper explanation.”

“Have some patience and get some sleep, you’re far too young to be looking so concerned like that.”

And that you do, finishing the rest of the milk she had brought up and shifting into your old bed. The kitsune leaves you with one last gentle caress of your head before she bids a good night. Morning comes and you have to force yourself to go to school, praying to whatever god there is that you don’t run into the boys. And you don’t, but Hyejin noticed the distance between you and the pack and has to put a stop to this nonsense.

“(Y/n), this needs to stop now, what’s going on?”

Hyejin stops you from leaving school that day, dragging you to the nearest fast food chain for a much needed sit down and talk. It comes after first being bombarded by Jimin and Taehyung about your whereabouts and wellbeing, and finally when Jungkook confronts her. Nothing is ever that important for the subject of her hatred to talk to her himself. Perhaps there was more to the problem than just fixing your lost memories.

She sighs when you both get seated at a booth with your meals, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I think it’s badass that you’re a witch, but I’m really worried for you being away from the boys when you’ve got your whole family tree planning on killing you.”

You want to tell her, clamming up in the palms when your feelings for the wolf-boy are teetering on the tip of your tongue. Should you tell her? She was your friend. What was stopping you? Her past relationship with him? What if she still liked him? Was this going to ruin your friendship with her?

“To be honest… I left to clear my head after finding out you and him dated before,” You blurt out, pursing your lips and expecting the worse. Silence is your answer, and when you peer over at your friend, she is blinking at you in evident surprise.

“How did you find out?” She starts off meekly, taking a generous swig from her soft drink, “I mean… Did he say anything?”

“Not really…” You wince, thinking about the time he forcibly shoved you from his head at the appearance of the girl in his memories, “It was only last night when he finally told me you both dated previously.”

The other exasperatedly exhales, her palm meeting her forehead, “That stupid dog.”

“You… You don’t like him still, do you?” You ask hesitantly, holding your breath in anticipation of her answer. Meanwhile, the other has to hold back her obnoxious cackle at that question, nearly spewing out her soda. Eyes softening, she cracks a small smile.

“You idiot.”

The reply astounds you, mouth opening and closing like a fish at the unexpected insult.

“You know, you’re really dense you know that? Here I am, unable to believe the coincidence that you, my only friend at school, has fallen for Jeon Jungkook, and now you’re asking me if I still like him!”

“If you’re still wondering… No. I do not,” Hyejin snickers at your visible relief, “I think it’s really cute, your crush, but I still refuse to accept that it’s him.”

The girl takes a french fry between her index and thumb, pointing the tip in your direction, “I probably do, deep down. Truth be told that I broke up with him out of fear. I knew he was a wolf, and kept that in mind, but I wasn’t expecting him to be a wolf and more. And like any other human, I ran.

“He was a cute boy in middle school, a grade above me, taller than most and very shy. He did everything and anything he could to catch my attention. The clumsy little idiot… we eventually dated, it continued into his first year in high school while I had one more year in middle school when I had come over to their cabin to hang with the pack. I had been helping out Seokjin with dinner when I dropped a plate, it shattered on the floor and over my bare foot, and my dumb self had attempted to pick up the larger pieces and nicked myself. Jungkook must’ve been hungry and went on a rampage...

“He charged at me, eyes blue and gold, like I’d never seen them before. He was snapping at me, growling and breathing heavily… Couldn’t even speak coherently. The boys tried to tear him off me, but there really wasn’t a known way to calm him down… According to the boys, it was the first time he’d done something like that around them.”

Hyejin pauses, closing her eyes as the memories come rushing back of the terrible day, “I left that day with a disgusting scar, Seokjin wasn’t as proficient at healing at the time and could only close the wound long enough to get me to the hospital, but even the doctors could not get rid of the remnants of it.” Her hand grips at the hem of her uniform top before carefully pulling it up just enough to catch the sight of the fleshy tissue that runs jagged on her right abdomen. “I could not look him in the eye without seeing the deranged beast I saw that day, I left him soon after, crying and heartbroken, not because of relationship problems, but because I was scared… that he would someday kill me if he could just as easily lose control the way he did that day. I guess we just grew hateful of each other over time...”

Her eyes catch yours staring down at where her scar had been recovered by the top, and she quirks a small curl of her lips. Reaching over the table, she offers an open hand, to which you take gratefully with a meek smile in response, “You know… I’m surprised to hear you managed to calm him down…”

It makes sense, she thinks, after all, you didn’t know it yet who the hybrid truly imprinted on.

“I think I’ve calmed down quite a bit… but seeing Jungkook full hybrid again at the cabin brought me back to middle school. It still haunts me, not as much as before… I used to get nightmares almost every other night. It’s at least once in a while now, I suppose.

“Which is why I always urged you to stay away from them. I didn’t want what happened that day, to eventually happen to you. You’re my only closest friend at school, I don’t want anything bad happening to you… I want to protect you (Y/n), but there’s only so much a human like me can do… Which is why I’m just a little grateful that you have Jungkook to protect you.”

The questions gnaws away at you.

There was no harm in asking right?

“You think Jeon Jungkook imprinted on me?” Hyejin nearly bursts into laughter, hopelessly trying to stifle the giggles with the back of her hand. Thankfully, she wasn’t too hung over having to remember and retell her relationship with Jungkook, but that didn’t warrant her nearly doubling over with tears in her eyes at your abrupt question. Your cheeks puff with a bright rosy hue at her reaction, suddenly feeling embarrassed for even asking.

If only you knew, the girl thinks with a shake of her head.

“Dear God no, he did not, he’d have died by now just from me breaking up with him,” she muses with a wave of her hand, “That stupid dog just has a funny way of letting girls know his feelings.”

“So he does have an imprintee?” You ask expectantly, your heart in your throat at this point.

The look of determination and anticipation on your face is adorable, Hyejin thinks as she replies with a subtle shrug.

“I think that’s something you need to wait for him to talk to you about.”

“For now, you both need to fucking make up before I do something about it.”

And that you do.

You return to the cabin that night. Hyejin leaves you at the door with a comforting hug before she bids you good luck. Good luck and more is much needed when you sense the overwhelming bundle of aura sitting right on top of the roof. No one else but Jungkook had that much unrestrained magical aura, and you knew right away as soon as you came closer and closer to the house. Surely, he must’ve picked up on your scent as you phased onto the roof where the hybrid sat.

He didn’t turn, nor did he make any indication in regard to your entrance. You knew he had been expecting you. So you take a seat beside him, pulling your knees close to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

“I’m still a little mad at you,” You whisper, your two index fingers twirling around one another. Glaring down at your feet, your hair falls down, casting a curtain on both sides and obscuring your vision of the hybrid beside you. “But… I should probably apologize for running away like a child… and that I shouldn’t be forcing you or expecting you to tell me anything like there’s any reason for me to know…”

Its silent between you both, and you wonder if he’s resorted to ignoring you or is just sleeping. When you turn slightly, you catch a glimpse of his side profile glaring up at the sky. His doe-like eyes are wide and reflect the colors of a galaxy. Dazzling azure with dozens of golden droplets like the stars. You have to fight the urge to reach over and touch him. You want to hug him, and tell him how you feel about him. But now wasn’t the time when you were so sure he only had eyes for Hyejin.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” He finally speaks, voice barely above a whisper that you have to lean towards him and strain your ears, “I’m afraid. And I don’t even trust myself. I’m just not ready yet.”

He catches your eyes before you can look away, the corners of his lips stretching into a taut smile, the ends just barely curling upwards.

“I’m sorry… just give me some time.”

“N-No, I understand and I’ll wait until you feel comfortable enough to open up to me,” You stammer, quite flustered with the sudden eye contact. His irises are glowing, shimmering under the moonlight so beautifully that it catches you off guard.

Despite your reply, you didn’t really understand. Was it not simple for him to just out right tell you that he had imprinted on someone else, or just straight up didn’t like you. You inwardly gasped, what if he knew of your feelings and was trying to prepare himself to reject you?

“If it makes you feel better,” he swallows, turning his head to look away, “I uh, I never imprinted on Hyejin.”

In contrast to your worrying thoughts, the relief that washes over you is massive. Your whole body physically relaxes and sags. Cheeks flushing, you thank any god out there that he was looking away.

“I-I see… I don’t think this is gonna make you feel better though…”

His neck cranes, glancing at you curiously.

“I talked to Hyejin,” you shrink in your spot, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed for going to her for information he wasn’t ready to spill.

“What did she say?”

“About what broke you two up.”

Silence. You wonder if maybe you spoke too much or should’ve waited for him to tell you. It feels like he’s growing increasingly distant from you.

“I see…”

Should you apologize? The growing discomfort in your chest became unbearable. You shifted on the roof till, unsure of what to say to soothe the atmosphere between you both. He hates you, you conclude.

“...So you know then?” He finally asks, “That I went berserk on her. Seokjin had me locked in my room with his perfect cube spell... In the whole chaos, other than Hyejin, I really hurt Yoongi bad. Jimin and Taehyung managed to get away with scratches, but Yoongi could only heal so much on his own with Seokjin-hyung’s help that we had to turn to admitting him to the hospital.

“You don’t understand how much I hated myself for that. I hurt my family, I hurt Hyejin too. Fast forward today, I ended up attacking you. I can’t forgive myself for hurting people I care about.

“Why did I have to survive the transition? Why me and not Junghyun? Why did I have to be made into this hybrid that can barely control himself when he goes on a rampage?”

You interject at that, “But you did control yourself, Jungkook, you were able to come back to us after that fight with Minerva. You were able to handle yourself when we fought with those bounty hunters. I’ve seen you many times trying to keep yourself at bay, and you’re doing your best at figuring out how to take control of your genes. No one could ask for any more than you already do. It’s not your fault for going through such a cruel transition, and it’s also not your fault that as a result you couldn’t control yourself, but you’re making progress and that’s all that matters.

“I trust you Jungkook, I hope that makes you feel better. It doesn’t matter to me that you had to drink from my blood. It doesn’t matter to me that you attacked me that night. I’ve forgiven you. You just keep blaming yourself and I hate it.

“You don’t think I hate myself for having to be protected by you guys? We’ve had to fight off my reanimated mother, a vampire, and bounty hunters. You guys wouldn’t have to go through this if it wasn’t for me. I just barely regained my memories, sure I remember spells and skills I learned with my mother, but that shies in comparison to the little training I have in utilizing them in an actual situation, moreover the fact that I have zero self defense experience.

“Don’t you dare tell me that I don’t understand. You said it yourself! You and I… we’re the same. Outcasts. Mutants. I thought you cared for me…” Your voice trails off and silence settles between you both, not as pensive as it was before, but still awkward with more questions swirling between you. Shoulders slumping, you didn’t mean to mope, but you were still at a loss.

“I do care for you (Y/n), did you not just hear me say how much I hated myself for hurting you and everyone?” Jungkook sighs after much thought, reaching a hand towards you before regretfully retracting it. He knows he’ll want to do more than just hold your shoulder. “I cared for you from the very beginning, there would have been no reason for me to keep letting you hang around me or saving you from those wendigos, no matter how hard I tried to keep you from sticking close to me.”

The realization of his words clicks in his mind and he hissed, turning away with his hand covering his dreaded mouth. Darn him for succumbing to you, if you were able to connect the dots, that would have been him smacking you in the face with a sign that read “I LIKE YOU, MY DUMBASS IMPRINTED ON YOU” in large bold characters. Thankfully, you turn and smile softly at him.

“Sorry, I… I just don’t want you to hate on yourself for hurting me when I’m fine really.”

Despite himself, he leans over and taps your forehead with his index finger, the force just enough to move your head backwards just slightly.

“Then don’t hate yourself for being a burden to the pack, you’re not just a guest in our house now, you’re pretty much a pack member. The boys don’t treat you any differently than they would each other.”

Your cheeks burn, hand rising to brush over the spot on your forehead, the gesture was slight but it did well to make your heart beat wildly. With a pout, you mull over his words before scrunching your eyebrows and raising you head to glare at him, “What do you mean burden? I’m a burden?”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, an action you catch as he turns his head away.

“Hey you! Answer me!”

LOL tell me why I totally forgot to put the tags.

Tags:

@twilight-loveer @reinyrei @mistytail @mygukandonlyficrecs @xanny91 @unpocodesoledadywisky @xxqueenwxtchxx @lildemonangele @gukworld @sunnyoongles @serendipity-secrets @ilaria-np @jules-park @treetops68 @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @jeonkooksgirl @coffeeismylife28 @nshitae @bookoffracturedescapes @ellsbells72 @zamirayinyue13 @hannahdearr @tiredjedi @sushibunn @perrshian @lovinggalaxies @ditttiii @cookies-are-done @mintyrae

When like two of you I can’t tag for some reason asjfhksdjhg... anywho~ thank you thank you so much for all the replies on the last part!

#lustrous #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk scenarios #kpop fanfic #bts au #hybrid!jungkook

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sinditia · 4 years

Photo

Tony and Peter struggle with their long-distance relationship. Meanwhile, Tony’s nightmares are getting worse and weirder.

Beta’d by the amazing @blushing-starker

The late afternoon sun rays reflect off the gentle ripples of the lake’s surface. He can still hear the chatter of the guests somewhere behind him, the dearly few and beloved who have gathered there that day to witness him moving on, letting go. He feels their relief behind their words of congratulations, unaware of the heavy guilt that still gnaws at him every second of every day.

It doesn’t seem right to feel happy. How is it fair that he gets to walk away and hide under the shelter of evergreen trees when he’s gone? Why is the world still capable of spinning even without him in it? Why is he allowed to move on?

She looks radiant in white, her hair like soft flames on her crown, her blue eyes are tender in kind understanding. She takes his hand and the steady grip of her fingers grounds him in a world where he feels like he could disintegrate with the weight of his grief. He’ll never forget, not completely. And he’ll never forgive himself, it’s just not in his nature. But she takes his hand anyway and knows this is as far as he’s capable of going.

I miss you, Peter, he thinks as he lets her lead him away.

Tony wakes up crying in a dark, empty room, with silent tears streaming down his face. It all feels too frighteningly real. The mourning and guilt that haunt his dreams feel just as tangible even when he’s awake and it terrifies him.

His phone tells him it’s 3am but he calls him anyway with trembling hands.

“Tony?” Peter’s voice is small and sleepy when he picks up, but the sound of it sends a wave of calm coursing through Tony’s body and he sighs in shuddering relief. His ragged breath must have alerted Peter because he sounds more awake when he says, “Tony? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare.” Tony lies back on his pillows with his eyes closed and listens to Peter’s breath on the other line, imagining that he’s there with him, that he could hold him and feel him there, real and alive.

“It’s getting worse, huh?”

“It’s getting … real. I don’t know if they’re just dreams anymore. I’ve had nightmares. Always had them. But nothing like this.”

“What are they about?”

“You,” Tony whispers. “You being … You were gone.” God, he can’t even say it.

“I’m here, Tony. It’s not real.”

Tony exhales shakily. “I know, but … it feels real. It feels too real.” It wasn’t just the heart-shattering grief he felt at losing Peter. There was also that overwhelming sense of guilt of moving on from it and that feeling was more terrifying than the loss itself. It made the loss feel all too permanent and undeniable.

“Do you wanna turn on the video? Some visual input might help ground you.”

Tony sighs. “It’s 3am, Pete. I shouldn’t even be bothering you.”

“Well, it might be for selfish reasons. I wanna see you too.”

Peter’s too good for him. Even now when he’s disrupted the younger man’s much-needed rest to deal with Tony’s increasingly unsettling issues, Peter’s still willing to hold on, to offer a helping hand. And Tony’s just selfish enough to let him.

Tony turns on the light on his bedside, casting the room in a dim, golden glow. Turning on the video shows Peter lying in bed with his phone propped up beside him, looking soft and sleepy and so ethereally beautiful that Tony’s heart hurts from missing him so much.

Tony lies on his side too, facing his phone, so that it feels like they’re lying in bed next to each other.

“Hi,” Peter says, smiling.

“Hey there,” Tony says. “You look sleepy.”

“I am. But this is nice. Feels like you’re really here.”

Tony wants to reach through the phone and run his fingers through Peter’s hair, brush the stray brown curls away from his forehead. He wants to pull him in, kiss those soft lips, and feel his heart beat, steady and reassuring through his chest.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Peter asks.

“Not really. It’s not real. I just want to forget about it.”

“Okay. Do you wanna hear about my dream?”

“Was it a bad dream?”

Peter hums. “No. It was kinda nice.”

“Tell me about it.”

“We were back in Berlin. Not on a mission this time. Just … hanging out.”

“Were you the one showing me around? You were pretty well acquainted with the Berlin night-life as I recall.”

“Did Happy tell you about that? I only went out for a little bit. Anyway. We were just having a nice dinner in my dream. Dinner date. All romantic and such.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It really was.” Peter smiles dreamily. “Then there was like this giant sandcastle monster attacking the city and we had to go fight it. And I was like, ‘but wait, we just posted on Instagram that we’re having a dinner date here. And suddenly Iron Man and Spider-man happen to be here too??’ But then you were like, ‘don’t worry Pete, I made us some stealth suits’. And so basically we fought the monster while completely invisible. It was really cool.” Despite his obvious sleepiness, Peter still manages to sound excited about the idea.

Tony chuckles. “Invisible stealth suits, huh? That’s actually a pretty cool idea. We should make some.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome.” Peter smiles, his dark brown eyes blinking slowly, lidded and drowsy.

“You should sleep, Pete.”

“Can we sleep like this, with the phone on? I like being able to hear you.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Wish you were here.” Peter yawns, snuggling deeper into his pillow. Tony would sell everything he owns to be able to hold him right then. All the cars in the world, the overpriced artwork, all of Stark Industries assets, the Avengers - he’d trade it all just to have Peter sleeping in his arms.

“I know, baby.”

Tony doesn’t manage to fall asleep. It’s probably creepy, but he spends the rest of the night watching Peter sleep through the phone, just thinking. It would be so nice to make Peter’s dream come true. Not the monster part, obviously. But the part where they can go out, travel, have dinner dates like a normal couple. He’d take Peter anywhere he wants to go, he’d only need to say the word.

But Tony just needs to be worthy of him first.

“There he is! Mr. Genius Handy-man! Come to look for more spaceships to wreck?”

In all of Tony’s wildest imaginings of extraterrestrial life, he never would’ve expected there to be a snarky talking raccoon who also happened to be an expert mechanic currently eating popcorn while sitting on the couch in the Avengers Facility common room watching Scooby Doo on their flat screen TV. And that’s only slightly less weird than a sentient adolescent tree sitting with his feet up on the sofa completely engrossed in some kind of video game console.

Nebula smacked the raccoon upside the head and admonished, “he got us here, didn’t he? He did a fine job.”

“Thank you,” Tony says emphatically. “Is Wanda around?”

“I think she’s in the library,” Nebula says.

“Fine job, my ass,” Rocket mutters, one hand rubbing the spot on his head where Nebula hit him while the other hand continues to shovel popcorn into his mouth. “He completely uprooted the Necrocraft’s exhaust system and fried the inner caulking. You guys are lucky to be alive. Gonna be weeks before I get that tin can up and running again.”

“Hey. Freeloaders don’t get to complain,” Tony says, pointing a stern finger at the raccoon as he makes his way to the library.

The room isn’t so much a library as a meeting room with some comfortable couches and a bookshelf. It’s all done up in dark wood panelling with one side of the room made up of wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the courtyard, so it has a cozy yet professional sort of feel. Wanda is curled up in one of the couches with a book.

“Hey,” Tony says, coming to sit on the armchair opposite her. “Where’s the English professor?”

Wanda looks up. “He’s out grocery shopping with Sam.”

“It’s his turn to do the chores, huh.”

“Not really. He wants to learn to cook and Sam insists on showing him the proper way to make a cubano.”

“Would’ve thought you guys’d be relaxing on your down time between missions.”

“Cooking is relaxing for them. But not for me, clearly,” Wanda says, gesturing to her book.

“The Alchemist, huh?” Tony says, peering at the cover. “A bit dry.”

“As the desert it’s set in,” Wanda agrees. “Compelling, though.”

“If you say so.” Tony clears his throat. “Speaking of prophetic dreams…”

“You said in your texts you were having nightmares?” Wanda asks, marking her place in the book and placing it on the side table.

“That’s the thing, though. I’m not sure they’re entirely nightmares. I know what nightmares feel like. These don’t have that hazy, mind-numbing terror you get with nightmares when you’re in them, you know?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with nightmares,” Wanda says grimly, shifting in her seat. She regards Tony with thoughtful concern. “So what do they feel like? Have you experienced something similar?”

Tony hesitates. “That’s kind of why I’m talking to you about it. Remember way back when you were working with von Strucker? And you did something to us, made us see things?”

“I remember.”

“It’s not exactly like that, but … really similar. It feels like … like it’s telling me something.”

Wanda considers this quietly, drumming her fingers where it rests on the sofa’s arm. “You think they are visions?”

“I don’t know. In these dreams, I see someone dead. Someone I care about. Someone who’s still alive. And what I felt in these dreams wasn’t fear. It was more like … defeat. Failure.”

“What I did to you in Sokovia - to you and the others - I didn’t just bring forth your deep fears. I tapped into your insecurities, whatever secret thing that lies in all of us that makes us feel isolated from the people around us. The point was to try and drive a wedge between all of you. Tear the group apart.” Wanda gives him a wry smile.

“Heh. Yeah. And it almost worked too, though not right away.”

“You don’t have to remind me of my part in breaking up the Avengers,” Wanda says self-deprecatingly.

Tony winces apologetically. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

Wanda’s eyes are sharp and knowing as she gazes at him. “I saw what you saw back then. The deaths of your friends, the regret. It seems to be a recurring issue with you.”

“Yeah, I have issues. This isn’t exactly breaking news,” Tony grumbles.

“But what I did all those years ago, I didn’t impart visions on you. The things you saw, they aren’t … telling you anything. Nothing prophetic in nature. They are just things that already exist within your subconscious.” Wanda shrugs. “Maybe what you need is therapy.”

Tony snorts. “I definitely do need therapy. But what if this is something else?”

“What are you worried about?”

“That I’m compromised, somehow?” Tony admits. “Could someone – or something – be doing this to me? I swear to God these aren’t just normal nightmares. I can feel it.”

“I can check, if you want?” Wanda offers. “I’ll need to look into your head, so to speak. See if there are any energy signatures that are influencing your synapses.”

“You’re gonna read my mind?” Tony asks warily.

Wanda smirks. “You have something to hide, Tony Stark?”

“Everybody has something to hide.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t dig too deep. Just enough to see if there are traces of any external interference.”

Tony fidgets. “Okay. What do I do?”

Wanda moves to stand behind Tony’s armchair, slim fingers lightly hovering over his temple. “Just relax. Try and think about your last nightmare.”

Tony closes his eyes and tries to remember what he saw. That cabin by the lake that he’s never seen before but looks exceedingly familiar. That odd feeling of guilt and resignation …

Then there’s a jolt, a sharp spark of electricity, and suddenly it’s like multiple tabs are opening at once behind his eyes, scenes playing out in warp speed.

Late nights to early mornings in the workshop, surrounded by holographic schematics, lost in thought, wondering where he went wrong, wondering how he could fix it. Seething moments of frustration, throwing things across the room in rage, hating so much that he’s alive when so many are lost.

Peter’s frown of concentration as they work together on Nebula’s metal plating. His smile when Tony praises him, his blush when Tony touches him.

Slow-dancing with Pepper in an unfamiliar living room, his hands covering hers as they rest on her lower stomach. Laughter and rapid puttering footsteps of little feet, chasing a blur of long dark brown hair around the backyard.

Kissing Peter under a fur blanket in a rattling spaceship, spilling pleasure in his soft, clever hands. Counting the steady beats of Peter’s heart as they sleep tangled in each other, pressed close from head to toe.

Glancing at that photo of him and Peter above the sink as he washes the dishes and still feeling that loss pierce through him.

Kissing Peter for the last time on that hospital bed.

Peter’s soft lips.

Peter’s beautiful, brown eyes.

Peter’s laugh.

Peter.

The pressure releases and he gasps back into the present like breaking the water’s surface after being held down underwater.

Wanda’s peering at him with concern. “Are you alright?” she asks.

“Other than feeling like I just got lobotomized? Yeah. Peachy.”

Figuring Tony must not be that bad if he’s capable of making jokes, Wanda huffs a sigh of relief and returns to sit across him on the sofa.

“What the hell did you do?” Tony asks, rubbing his eyes.

“I just went to look at what triggers your nightmares. I didn’t detect any evidence that you’re being brainwashed or otherwise manipulated.”

Tony slumps in his chair. “So it’s official then. I’ve finally cracked.” Looking at Wanda, though, it seems like there’s something more she isn’t saying. “What is it?” he asks.

Wanda looks uncertain. “It may be nothing. But I was getting a bit of a … a vibe.”

“A vibe?” Tony asks dubiously.

“When I was destroying the Mind Stone in Wakanda, I could feel it fighting back. It was a difficult feat. I could feel it reaching out, creating instabilities, something of a disorder in, like … the matter around us. It’s hard to explain.”

“So it is the Mind Stone that’s putting these nightmares in me?”

“No, I couldn’t detect any of the energy signatures around you, the Mind Stone’s or mine. This feeling … the same thing I was feeling when I was destroying the Mind Stone, it wasn’t even in your brainwaves. I felt it in the memories of your nightmares themselves. I am feeling you remembering these vibes.”

“But I have no idea what you’re talking about. How could I be remembering some weird vibes?”

“You might not realize that you’re feeling it. Genius as you may be, I don’t think you have my insight when it comes to picking up psychic energies.”

“Okay, this isn’t really going anywhere. I need something quantifiable. You wanna go down to the labs and take an fMRI with me? We’ll make a girls day of it.”

Wanda quirks a smile. “I can’t. Sorry. I’m claustrophobic. Besides, I don’t think something like this can be picked up by a standard scan. This is all very strange, Tony, but maybe these hoofbeats are just horses and not the zebras you keep insisting on.”

“You’re gonna Occam’s Razor me into going to therapy? That should be fun. I bet a ton of shrinks are just dying to put me on benzos.”

Wanda’s gaze is piercing and contemplative, and Tony is starting to strongly suspect that she can actually read his mind. “Or maybe your nightmares are already telling you what you need to do,” she says. “What’s his name?”

Tony exhales in resignation. “Peter. His name is Peter.”

“Peter. Kind of like my brother’s name,” Wanda says with a small smile. “You have strong feelings for him.”

“Yeah, about that. I thought you said you weren’t gonna be digging too deep into the brain matter.”

“I didn’t. He seems to be in the forefront of your mind despite your best efforts. And your feelings for him are deeply connected to your nightmares. There was no way you could’ve hidden him from me.”

“Okay, well. Then you know it’s all strictly off record. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.”

“Of course. But if I may ask, why is it strictly off record?”

“You saw him, right?”

“I saw someone you would kill and die to protect, someone you were willing to compromise your own happiness for if it meant keeping him safe. He could do much worse than you.”

“I’m not just me, though. I come with … all sorts of crap. Even the most stable, patient woman in the world couldn’t deal with my nonsense. And apparently the weird crap just keeps on coming.” Tony gestures at his head.

Wanda nods understandingly. “So naturally, the answer would be to push him away before either of you gets hurt”

“Exactly! You get it. And you know all too well that my hands are destroyer’s hands.”

“So are mine. But we try to be better everyday. And sometimes we have to stop being so afraid of sullying other people, and instead let them help wash the blood off our hands. And look at you now, coming to talk to me about all this instead of keeping it all inside. I know you’re doing this for him as much as you’re doing it for yourself, but it’s a good start.” Wanda gives him a sad smile. “If you ask me, life is much too short and fragile not to take whatever bit of happiness that comes your way. My parents are gone. So is my brother. For so long I was … incredibly angry and bitter. It was very isolating. So now I don’t take the love I feel for granted. And who knows, maybe allowing yourself to feel the love you obviously have for him will help ease the nightmares.”

Tony hums pensively. “Wise words. Vision’s a lucky mandroid.”

“He’d certainly say so,” Wanda says with a laugh. It’s not a sound Tony’s often heard from his serious team-mate and it makes him smile.

Aside from the retired and shockingly normal Clint Barton, Wanda and Vision seem to be the only ones in the group who could maintain a long-term relationship. If an android with a synthetic body and the result of Hydra human experimentation could make it work, then a billionaire with more issues than he’s got money and a super-powered spider mutant can too, right?

>>I miss you

It’s another late night. Tony has fully moved all his things into the new penthouse on the Upper West Side. His bedroom is still too orderly and unfamiliar and he’s blaming that for his restlessness (as though he’d sleep easily under usual circumstances).

<<I miss you too

A few minutes after the reply, Peter calls him.

“Hey, Tony.” Peter looks bright and awake, his brown hair sticking up in soft, unruly tufts. He looks like he’s in his apartment’s kitchen, holding his phone up while he rummages through the refrigerator.

“What are you still doing up?”

“Just got back from patrol. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone.” Peter takes out a carton of orange juice and takes a long swig straight out of it. “Plus I don’t have any morning classes tomorrow and Aunt May’s out on a night shift, so I figured it was as good a time as any.” The camera shakes a little as Peter walks back to his bedroom and closes the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“So, uh, as per my last text…” Tony clears his throat.

Peter quirks a smile. “You miss me?”

“I do,” Tony admits. “You miss me too.”

“I do,” Peter echoes him.

Tony’s heart thuds and his face grows warm at the idea of exchanging those exact two words under entirely different circumstances, which is so not the kinds of thoughts he should be having right now. Not when they haven’t so much as gone on a single date.

“I miss you so much, I can barely concentrate on school,” Peter says. “And after all the trouble you went to get me in there too, I can’t be tarnishing the Stark good name by failing.”

“Can’t have that. Maybe I can help?”

Peter grins, stretching out on his bed. “Yeah? You wanna help me relax?”

Tony laughs at the implication. “I was thinking more along the lines of us going out somewhere sometime, maybe have dinner together. But sure, if that’s what you want.”

“Wait, what?” Peter sits up quickly. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not? We’ve done phone sex before.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Tony. I meant the date.”

Tony can’t help but smile at his eagerness. “I figure you’re right. There’s always going to be something - with the Avengers, with the company, with me in general. And I don’t want to put us on hold forever.”

Peter looks so happy, smiling so wide, Tony thinks the younger man’s about to start vibrating from excitement.

“It’s still going to be a crazy mess, though,” Tony warns. “You’re going to be in the public eye and there’s going to be … People are going to say things, and they’re not going to be all good. Very little of it is going to be good, actually, considering who I am and … how you are.”

Peter waves a hand dismissively. “Tony, I’ve been to space. I’ve faced off against a genocidal alien monster. I’m not afraid of a little gossip. Besides, the only people whose opinion I care about already know about us, so it doesn’t really matter. I want to be with you. Whatever that entails.”

Tony smiles. “I want to be with you too.”

Tony calls Pepper the next day. The woman has an impeccable morning routine and at this time he should be catching her at the office during her second cup of coffee of the day right before she starts catching up with emails.

Oddly enough, it takes more than five rings for her to pick up, almost sending him to voicemail.

“Tony, hi. Sorry. What’s going on?” She sounds a little breathless and her image on the screen looks more than slightly frazzled. Ever since the breakup, the conversations they have are almost always about work, and it’s always Pepper who’s the one calling him, never the other way around. She’s probably thinking there’s some kind of dire emergency.

“Hey, Pep. Nothing to worry about. I mean, maybe there is, I don’t know, you’re gonna have to tell me later if there is. But I don’t think so. At least-” Tony cuts off his own rambling when he hears what he thinks is the sound of a car door closing on Pepper’s end and he sees her sitting in the backseat of her town car. “Where are you going?” He looks at his watch. “Are you just leaving for work?”

“Yes, Tony. You caught me running a little late this morning,” Pepper says impatiently. “And you’re really not helping me have a good start to the day so just out with it. What’s going on?”

Tony chuckles. “Why Ms. Potts, I’ve never known you to be late a day in your life.”

“Tony.”

“Alright, alright.” Tony takes a deep breath. “I want to preface this by saying that this isn’t a big deal. Well, it is a big deal, but in like, a good way. What I mean is, in the way that you wouldn’t want it to be a big deal, it really isn’t. But in the way that you would want it to-”

“Tony.”

“I’m dating Peter Parker.��

Pepper’s image freezes in a frown.

“Pep?” Tony prompts. He taps the phone to see if it’s the connection that’s glitchy, but they’re still on the line.

“Peter Parker,” Pepper says finally, without inflection. “Peter Parker as in Spider-man, Peter Parker. That eighteen-year-old kid from Queens. That Peter Parker?”

“How many other Peter Parkers do we know?” Tony hedges, steeling himself for an irate outburst.

Astonishingly, Pepper laughs. As in, full on, no-holds-barred, breathless-to-the-point-of-asthmatic-wheezing kind of laughter.

Tony frowns. “I’m being serious.”

“No, no. I know,” Pepper says in between barely restrained giggles. “I know, Tony. That’s what makes this so-” and she starts laughing again.

“O-okay,” Tony says slowly. “So it’s not a big deal, right?”

“Oh, it’s a big deal, Tony. It’s a huge deal. And handling the media about this is going to be really annoying and not fun at all. But you know…” She chuckles. “I really gotta hand it to you. I really thought I’d done something crazy, but I should’ve known that you would one-up me even in this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know Rafael Santino?”

“The tennis player?”

“Yep.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“He’s like twenty-three or something!”

“And Peter’s eighteen! Plus, I’m three years younger than you so we kinda win on the age difference thing.”

“Holy shit.” Tony laughs. “Ms. Potts, you veritable cougar.”

“If I’m the pot, you’re the kettle,” Pepper shoots back defensively. She sighs. “I’m guessing it’s serious, then? This thing with you and Peter? That’s why you’re calling me?”

“Yeah. It’s for real, Pep. I mean, it’s Peter. I wouldn’t even consider it if it wasn’t. Is it serious with you and tennis boy?”

“His name’s Rafael,” Pepper says, but her voice is soft when she answers, “I think so. I mean, we’ve been keeping it hush hush to see if there’s, you know, something there before exposing it to the media craziness. I’ve been putting off going public with this, but I think we’ve reached the point where the next step in our relationship is finding out if it holds up under the pressure.”

“So what you’re saying is … by coming out with Peter, I’m actually doing you a favour here,” Tony says with a grin.

Pepper sniffs. “Historically, people don’t take too kindly on the idea of women taking on younger partners. Especially women in my position. You, however, are just a dime a dozen in the fountain of rich, old men dating younger people. So while your announcement might blow over much quicker, it might just be scandalous enough while it’s broiling to overshadow mine.”

“Alright, deal,” Tony agrees. “But I don’t actually have to make an official announcement, right? Peter and I were kinda hoping to just do this organically. Go out some. Let ourselves be seen.”

“Yes, by all means. Just set up a date that gives me time to prepare the PR team for all this. And I’m guessing the Spider-man thing is still off the books? Unless you want my team involved, you have to tell him to be more vigilant about all that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I upgraded his suit already. No more changing in alleyways. And I’m already working on some stealth suits.”

“Okay, good to know.”

“Thanks for this, Pepper. And for everything. And hey, maybe we should take you out to dinner or something. Me and Peter, you and tennis boy. Make it a double date.”

Pepper snorts. “As long as you and Peter don’t get up to the same antics you and your old girlfriends used to get up to then that’s thanks enough. Just try and not to make my life too difficult, will you?”

Tony chuckles. “No, you’re already doing that to yourself.”

“I know, right? It’s crazy. What am I thinking?”

“You’ve always liked a challenge.”

Pepper laughs. The sound of it is lovely and free and he misses being able to make her laugh like that. Even before they started dating, Pepper had been one of his closest friends, one of the very few people who really know him and can stand to be around him. Maybe they were never meant to be romantic, but they’ll always have each other. She’ll always have his back.

“I’m happy for you, Pep,” Tony says sincerely.

Pepper’s smile is soft and genuine. “I’m happy for you too.”

And because Tony always has to ruin a sappy moment, he suddenly remembers, “wait, is that why you’re running late this morning? Were you and boytoy-”

“Bye, Tony,” she says before promptly hanging up.

Part 15

#starker #marsha writes

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