#so I shouldn’t be saying this here but I must admit this chapter is taking long because of an injury I’m recovering from

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind

Pairing- Dave York x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and wants you all to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW,Angst,Fluff,Tension, Confrontation,Mechanical Bull riding ( it needs its own warning)

WK-4.2k

A/N- Thank you for being so patient with me. I love you all, this is the reason I wrote this series and I can’t wait for your reactions.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter V

Frankie’s fingers tap idly against the black phone screen. There were things he needed to do today but he couldn’t take his mind off the fact that he hadn’t heard from you. Or Dave. It doesn’t matter, he shouldn’t be angry or jealous, but he is. There’s an unsettling rage building inside him at the thought of not having you first. It’s not fair and at the same time it should be him. He told you himself you don’t belong to anyone but that’s not true. You belong to him and Dave may have stolen his opportunity. You and your perfect smile,your honey sweet demeanor and your soft hands. The perfume and scent of you that he hasn’t been able to rid himself of since that day he met you. Had Dave been anything other than what he was he wouldn't have blamed him. They’re no weak men, but when it comes to you it seems men make stupid decisions. 

The man is willing to risk his entire career and reputation to have you. He’ll gladly throw it all away and never help another soul just to say that he found someone that eases that ache in his chest, fills the gaps where the pain seeps through. Reminds them they still know how to smile and enjoy the sunset. 

  Worst of all Frankie admits that if the roles were reversed he would likely do the same thing. 

  Your name flashes on the Lock Screen and he immediately answers, cursing himself slightly for seeming desperate. 

  “One ring, that’s impressive.” You laugh as he groans on the other end. 

  “I was holding my phone and I must have accidentally…-you know what…I’m not gonna lie I was excited to see your name, I’ve been dying to talk to you since I left.”He’s definitely out of practice with this whole dating and flirting. 

  A brief pause and your voice comes in a little lower. “I wanted to call you last night.” 

  “You should have.” 

  He hopes you can hear the pride in his voice knowing you still thought about him despite your date. 

  “So…how was your date?” He shuffles uncomfortably on the couch trying to sound as supportive as possible. 

  You sigh deep contemplating. “Do you really want to know? Or are you just being the most polite man in the world.?” 

  “A mixture of both I guess.” 

  “Well, honestly I had a great time. I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear but he was a perfect gentleman.” You clear your throat like you want to say more as he grits his teeth thinking about Dave. “I’m not sure where to go from here.” 

  You mindlessly play with the stray fabric on Alicia’s quilt having slept in her empty bed last night. 

  “Tell me your thoughts hermosa, I’m all ears.” 

  Your stomach does a flip at the pet name and the thought of having to explain your unorthodox thoughts out loud to your soulmate. But he sounds like he really wants to know so you sit up crossing your legs underneath you and begin. 

  “I told him about you…and his words not mine, we’re that he was not afraid of a little friendly competition.” You think you hear a scoff but you can’t be sure so you continue. “You said I don’t belong to anyone so…I’d like to keep getting to know you both for now.”

  It’s silent and all you can hear is his soft breaths through the phone as you try to hold yours. You’re starting to panic that maybe you’ve said the wrong thing. 

  “Baby I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to.” He smiles as he hears your sigh of relief. Frankie decided the day he met you that he wasn’t going to stop going after what he wanted most. 

  You grin wide to yourself wondering how you got so lucky. “You’re killing me over here with the pet names.” 

  “I don’t fight fair sweetheart.” 

  “Ok mister, that's enough out of you.” You hear his infectious laugh, knowing how unserious you sound. 

  You hear the keys to the front door jingle and the tell tale sign of a hungover Alicia cursing her way through the flat. 

  “I was getting ready to send out a search party for my friend but she’s home in relatively one piece.” Frankie grunts on the other end as he’s sorely reminded of Santiago’s budding love life. 

  She makes her way into the room looking at you conspiratorially as she quickly gets under the warm covers. 

  “I guess I should let you go so you can talk about what a gentleman my friend was.” You can tell by his reluctance that he’s wanting to continue this just as badly as you. He hears you snicker as you catch a glimpse of a dark hickey forming on her neck. 

  You poke it gently with your finger as she swats your hand away. “Hardly a gentleman keeping her out all night.” 

  She rolls over close enough to your ear nuzzling into you. “Are you two having phone sex in my bed?” 

  “Oh my god no!” 

  “Bummer.” 

  Frankie’s bellowing laugh echoes through the receiver as she winks at you. 

  He hears you take in a deep breath and then a soft whine that he can’t think too much about. “I guess…we’ll talk later Frankie.” 

  “Looking forward to it hermosa.” You groan again and his hand drifts mindlessly to the front of his jeans. 

  “You and that mouth are gonna be the death of me.” You hang up before he has the chance to speak. To which he’s grateful because he couldn’t if he tried. 

  ****

  “What’s his mouth doing?” You narrow your eyes at her incessant teasing as she sits up to join you against the headboard. 

  “Enough about my complicated love life, how was your date with Santiago?” You raise your eyebrows at her while she stares back with a blank unreadable expression on her face. 

  She bites her lip and glances up to the ceiling. The silence stretches on for too long as you grab her hand in yours to force her to look at you again. 

  “Hon you can tell me anything, you know that?” 

  She squeezes your hand back. “I know, it just feels selfish with everything you’ve got going on.” 

  You level her with a look. “I’m being courted by two gorgeous men not having a root canal…spill the beans!” 

  She buries herself beneath the blanket. “I’m fucking head over heels, completely obsessed. He’s so kind and hot and we’re both messed up in the same ways. If  he asked me to marry him tomorrow I would.” Her muffled rambling stops for a moment as you hover over her and peel back the covers. “I think he’s equally as obsessed and that scares me.” 

  You laugh all light and airy. “Welcome to the club babe.” You plop back down against the pillow staring at the ceiling. 

  She sighs playfully. “Also he fucks like he’s trying to win the gold medal in the Olympics.” 

  “Oh my god don’t rub it in.” You groan as you roll over to face her. 

  She boops your nose. “Listen sweetie, no one said you can’t have a little fun.” 

  “Nuh uh…not until I make a choice.” You can see it as the words leave your mouth. The crazy glint in her eyes as the light bulb goes off in her head. “What’s that look?” 

  “You know where you love to go when you need to blow off a little steam.” 

  ****

  The floors are sticky and the room smells of cheap beer and sweaty bodies. It’s early in the night and there’s already several people on their way to being kicked out for being too drunk. Frankie narrowly avoided some drunk college girl about to spill her guts all over him as he maneuvered his way through the crowded country bar. He’s thankful for the loud twangy music from the jukebox and the shouts of overly intoxicated men trying to peacock their way into some poor girl's pants. At least it can drown out the thoughts he’s had since he and Dave exchanged quick instructions on where to meet so they could discuss things. 

  The conversation wasn’t long enough for him to gauge the tone. Dave deliberately said to meet here at this crazy horse type place. Every town seems to have one, a place where you could blend into the crowd if you wanted. Now he’s not so sure if the man knew what he was doing but he knows for certain it’s easy to get lost in here. 

  He knew Dave’s hotel would be too quiet of a place to meet in case things got too heated, they also wanted somewhere neutral where outside influence wouldn’t sway the conversation. Frankie’s never gone into a mission so blind and unprepared, all he knows is neither man has any plans to back down. 

  Frankie spots him in a booth in a far corner of the bar. He’s easy to see with his robotic stature, so much more out of place than Frankie with his relaxed tee and standard oil cap. He’s not sure what you see in him, or maybe he does and refuses to admit their similarities. Charming, disciplined, intelligent, conventionally attractive. It can’t be any of those things. 

  ****

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.” Dave pours Frankie a beer from a large pitcher and slides it’s towards him. 

  Frankie eyes it momentarily and tries to shove down the annoyance brewing between them. 

  “Poison is not my m.o. so it’s safe to drink.” Dave takes the glass and a huge swig as he pours into the empty one. 

  Frankie accepts, briefly relishing in the cool liquid. He needed something to calm his nerves and times like these would have had him reaching for something a little stronger. 

  Frankie smirks. “Funny you say that since I’ve thought of several ways to kill you.” He sets his beer down and Dave laughs a little, shaking his head. 

  Dave clears his throat and slides an envelope towards Frankie. “This is all Santiago’s money. I’m sure you don’t care but I don’t make a habit of this.”

  Frankie takes it, tucking it safely into his front flannel pocket. “I’m not sure what I expected.” He pauses briefly as he rubs his jaw. “I guess I thought you’d called me here to tell me you fucked up and you’re backing down.” 

  Dave shrugs with a self surprised look. “I expected you to tell her who I was. There must be a reason you didn’t or we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

  Frankie’s thought this over countless times. It never sounds right in his head. He’s hung up on the fairytale and something about hiring Dave doesn’t sound like a fairytale to him. 

  “She likes you.” Frankie says all matter of fact. “I could tell when she talked about you…it just didn’t feel right trying to get ahead by telling her who you were.” Dave watches as he takes his cap off running his fingers through his hair and places it back on. “Besides I don’t think it would’ve made a difference with us.” 

  Dave expected this conversation to go much worse, it’s oddly normal and under different circumstances he would probably be Frankie’s friend. It bothers him how much they’re getting along. He anticipated some yelling and maybe some choice words ending in a punch thrown. That was the younger version of him concocting a scenario that he now realizes would never unfold between these two grown men. He knows they’ve both seen too much violence for one lifetime to waste it on an equal counterpart. 

  After a few more beers and some unspoken agreement they actually come to terms with the situation. They already know about each other and you’ve made it clear you’re interested in both men so they’ll wait as long as they have to until you make a decision. The loser will recede without conflict and they can all go on living their lives.

  There’s definitely an air of false confidence coming from either side. Dave believes you’ll choose him because he met you first and established a bond. He’s always been cocky in every aspect of his life and to him this was no different. 

  Frankie plays along because in his mind how could you not choose your soulmate. You had an instant connection and his best friend is dating your best friend. There’s no way he could go wrong. 

  “I’d say we have ourselves a deal Francisco.” Dave holds his hand out, much larger than Frankie has realized as he shakes it across the table. 

  “You might as well call me Frankie.” He replies as Dave’s eyes linger for a moment on his lips. 

  A brief flicker that anyone would’ve missed and Frankie’s grasps that he hasn’t let go of his hand. 

A loud raucous laughter pulls them apart as they look out into the crowded bar. 

  “Would you ever be caught dead on one of those?” Dave gestures to the intoxicated man on the mechanical bull. 

  Frankie just shakes his head as they look on. “Santi dared me once when we were on leave. I was seeing double that night so I never even made it onto the damn thing.” 

  ****

  “Your names on the list babe.” Alicia plops down into the booth as you slide her drink towards her. She gives you a look as she peels the napkin from the top.

  You give her a stern face as you peel yours back and take a sip. “Don’t look at me like that. You can never be too careful.” 

  “You’re literally sitting here with our drinks.” 

  “What if I got distracted?” You laugh as she rolls her eyes. 

  You swear sometimes it was like an old married couple. 

  You both sit back scanning the room, people watching like you usually did. You loved coming to this bar, especially on college night. You got to watch the cat and mouse game like it was National Geographic. Reliving your college days and maybe helping a girl or two on the way to not make the same mistakes you did when it came to picking people up in seedy bars. 

  It seemed counterproductive to come to a loud, crowded bar full of hormonal twenty-somethings to talk about your love lives but this is where you accidentally agreed to meet Alicia when you first moved here. She suggested the place to meet you and make sure you weren’t a creep and you agreed not knowing anything about the place. 

  Amongst the noise and chaos you found your best friend and roommate and never looked back. So now this is where you come to reminisce and unwind when life is too complicated or in your case a modern day episode of the bachelorette. 

  “So.” She claps her hands pulling your attention back to the present. “Have you decided what you’re gonna do?” 

  “No…that’s why we’re here remember?” You tease as you gesture around the room. “All I know for certain is I really like them both.” 

  “Just fuck both of them.” She half mumbles into her drink as she takes another sip. 

  You playfully narrow your eyes at her “I heard that.” 

  “I meant you too.” She shrugs her shoulders and sighs. “You know I’m mostly joking…I know you want more than just sex, but I say you see where it goes with both of them. Leave the ball in their court.” 

  Her phone buzzes and she glances down at it smiling ear to ear. You eye her curiously as she sends a quick text and places it back face down on the table. 

  “I hope Santiago has a big house because I’m coming with you when you leave.” You say as she looks up at you. 

  “Oh he’s well aware, wherever I go you go.” 

  You both don’t speak for a moment as you revel in the background noise, the music, random roars of laughter and way too much squealing from drunk girls. The sound of a chair scratching and some machismo voices getting a little too loud before inevitably a bouncer has to come break it up. 

  A familiar laugh breaks through the clamor and you crane your neck to look at the other booths. 

  “Alicia, I think I’ve had too much to drink.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

  “You haven’t even finished your first one.” The laugh is on the tip of her tongue until she sees the concern etched across your face. 

  “Babe what’s-“

  “Wait here.” You don’t even recognize your own voice as the words leave your mouth. 

  She’s cut off by your abrupt exit from the table. You’re seeing red and your heart is pounding in your ears. 

  ****

  Frankie could’ve left a while ago but he’s actually enjoying himself. Trading horror stories and some stories that sound classified but Dave is opening up to him so he wants to reciprocate. His laugh reverberates through him with how infectious it is and his smile actually meeting his eyes makes him seem less robotic and a little more approachable. He’d even dare say that Dave is having just as good a time as him with the way he’s relaxed into the booth, his arm draped along the back while the other hand spins the empty glass on the table. 

  “What in the actual fuck is going on over here?” 

  You’re standing there with your arms crossed, a wretched look on your face as a few people look over to the table. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion as Dave’s happy demeanor morphs into a glass eyed stare. The moments feel like an eternity as both men wait for the other to respond and Frankie would soon rather the floor swallow him up than answer that question. 

  “It’s not what it looks like.” Frankie sounds unsure of his own voice as he dares to speak first. The look in your eyes has him regretting that before the words leave his mouth. 

  You throw your hands up sarcastically. “Next thing you’re gonna say is…please let me explain.” He just blinks again, running his hand across his neck nervously as a few girls snicker from behind you. 

  You point your finger at Dave. “And you.” Your voice drops an octave as you lean into the table. “I knew you were a fucking liar.” 

  That stings, more than you could ever know because his heart feels like it’s ripping in two. Despite the fact that he may have ruined the best thing to ever come into his life, he looks across the table and sees the revelation that he may have ruined it for Frankie as well. 

  You can faintly hear Alicia’s voice a few booths over spitting venom into her phone. You don’t feel too bad for Santiago at this moment but you hope for his sake he’s doing a better job at explaining than the two men in front of you. 

  Your name calls over the muffled loud speaker and you huff out in frustration. “Figures.” You reach  across the table grabbing the full beer in front of Dave as he closes his eyes, bracing for impact. 

  Unexpectedly you’re finishing the drink, slamming the glass on the table harder than you intended…but you’d frame the look on their faces if you could as you walk away and step into the ring in the middle of the bar that holds the mechanical bull. 

  The second time you came here with Alicia she had dared you to ride it. After  much encouragement from her and promise that she’d do it too you worked up the courage to get on. Much to your surprise you were very good at it and it was exhilarating having all these random eyes on you. It gave you a boost of confidence you’d never had before. 

  This feeling is reminiscent of the first time, your best friend leaning against the ring as you swing your leg over and mount the bull. You signal the controller with two fingers up as you grip the underside of the rope with your other hand. A bead of sweat trickles down your back as you take a deep breath. He starts out slow as the music cues up. You always let Alicia choose the song and you’re thankful right now as Genuines Pony starts playing over the loudspeakers, bringing all the attention to you. A few cheers from the crowd drown out the sound of your beating heart as you make direct eye contact with the two men seated nearby. 

  He jostles you slightly as your grip tightens on the reins and the laugh that erupts from Alicia is intoxicating as every part of your body shakes. He’s definitely taking it easy on you so you hold up three fingers signaling for him to take it up a notch. 

  ****

  “Jesus fucking Christ…” Dave half whispers from across the table as Frankie tries not to drool at the sight of you riding the bull, glancing up at them occasionally with a look of ‘this could’ve been you’. 

  It’s the most erotic, mesmerizing thing he’s ever seen and you look so confident up there that it has him thinking you’ve got a few more tricks up your sleeve. It’s like you’re trying to draw them in as your hips move in tandem, like you’ve done this a thousand times. 

  You bite your lip and smile at Alicia as he tries to buck you off, instinctively Frankie’s eyes are on the crowd of men that have gathered to watch you as they look on with predatory eyes. He can see Dave gripping the table as he watches the same and this possessive feeling washes over him. He knows it would be an all out brawl if one of them did or said anything to you and it’s not fair to think that way but he can’t help it. It’s carnal the way you make them feel and yet they’ve ruined any chance at being able to walk over to one of the brutes now and say that you belong to them. He doesn’t know when it switched from just him to them but right now he doesn’t care. 

  ****

  You use the bulls movement to your advantage as you gyrate your hips, picking up your ass slightly when it’s within their view. You can feel their eyes on you and your previous feeling of anger toward them is replaced with a much more confusing one. Both of them captivated by you with rapt attention has your mind wandering in circles of what if? Why choose? You crave them in a way you can’t describe and this filthy display you’re putting on is only making things harder for you. 

  The song is coming to a close, and despite your best efforts you feel yourself slipping. Sweat beads on your forehead as the bulls movements become more erratic. “Hold on babe, you’re almost there.” Alicia is jumping and yelling from the sidelines as you grit your teeth refusing to give up. With one final surge forward you summon all your strength and hold on for dear life, the crowd erupting into cheers as you rode out the last of the song. 

  You dismount as the adrenaline is coursing through your veins. You meet their eyes briefly and a mix of admiration and awe is etched across their faces. Though you may have been tossed around like a rag doll you surely left a lasting impression on the both of them. 

  You exit the ring as Alicia approaches you but your view of her is blocked as a tall, half drunk man crowds your space. He reeks of booze and he assuredly is seeing double. 

  “You did a pretty good job on that bull sweetheart-“ 

  “I’m gonna stop you there bud.” Alicia’s voice cuts in from behind him and he whips around nearly losing his balance. 

  There's a heavy presence looming behind you and you don’t dare turn around already having an idea of who it is. 

  “Two for the price of one, how nice.” The man spits at her and she’s seeing red. Frankie’s hand is on you as Dave steps forward to give this guy a piece of his mind, but he’s  much too slow for the spit fire as the man keels over holding his nose. 

  She shakes her hand violently as you step out of Frankie’s grip. “Sorry to ruin your knight in shining armor moment boys.” She gives a fake sorrowful look as she hooks her arm in yours, leaning into your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” 

  “I couldn’t agree more.” You say as you both hastily exit the bar, it’s better for both your sakes that you don’t turn around to see the stunned look on their faces. They can stay to deal with the aftermath. 

  ****

  You stand outside arm in arm as you wait for the car to pick you up, hoping Dave and Frankie are occupied or just too afraid to face you yet. You’re both reeling and you can tell she can’t decide who should speak first. 

  “I take it you talked to Santi.” 

“Mhmm.” She glances over at you knowingly. “We have a lot to talk about.” 

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[jayvikbrainrot]

I shouldn’t be starting another chapter fic, but maybe I could do a really long one shot?

👀👀👀👀💦

Basically I really really want to write about Viktor teaching Jayce the four relationship “F’s” and slowly falling in love with him, because I’m cheesy AF

Teach Me

He wasn’t sure how they got here. He and Jayce sitting on the floor, alcohol in hand and stomach. They were celebrating a successful pitch meeting that had finally resulted in an investor stamp of approval to start prototyping.

They had raided their meager stash for drinks and hadn't stopped at just one. His brain, a little fuzzy from the cocktail of whiskeys he’d had so far, heard something so unacceptable he was at a loss for words.

“Ehm what?” He asked, perhaps hearing it again it might start to make sense.

Jayce flashed a small smile around his beer bottle, “It’s true, I’ve never been kissed. Or I guess done the kissing either.” He looked away shyly before taking a swig.

“That’s…” his mind went through a quick succession of words all of which paled for how he felt. Eventually settling on… “wrong.”

Jayce chuckled, “Thats sweet. But still doesn’t change anything.”

Viktor’s mind, a constant churn of problem solving blurted out, “Ech I should just kiss you and get it over it.” Em, wait that wasn’t right, “…over with…”

Jayce was looking at him with a wary sort of awe, and then Viktor realized he must have said something odd. His ears caught up with his mouth and he could feel his face blush furiously. He and Jayce had only been partners for a little shy of a year. Definitely settled into a comfortable enough friendship, but not like this. He couldn’t look Jayce in the eyes.

“I mean… if you wanted to I wouldn’t stop you.” Jayce said slowly. “It’s actually something that weighs on me quite a bit.”

Viktor looked at his partner. What an odd predicament. He certainly thought Jayce was handsome enough, clever, and if he was being honest, totally adorable. He had that rare pure hearted optimism that had been quashed by so much of Zaun. And now he was saying, admitting, he wanted to be kissed by Viktor? Huh. Well, he could do that.

“Come on, then.” Viktor said, gesturing him over with a finger.

Jayce looked a little shocked, but put his beer aside and crawled over on hands and knees. He sat obediently in front of Viktor. A shy sort of excitement present on his face. Oh this beautiful boy, how had no one else been tempted?

He sat up, and because Jayce had still not moved close enough, grabbed his tie, and pulled him in. Up close Jayce was a little trepidatious, eyes roaming Viktor’s face, his tongue darting out to wet his very lovely lips.

He pulled Jayce the last bit forward, their lips unaligned, but easily fixed. His lips were warm and soft, and the barest hint of hops and bitterness clung to them. He stayed that way for just a moment longer before letting Jayce go. Done. Not perfect by any means, but at least Jayce was no longer hung up on something so trivial.

Jayce didn’t pull back right away, lingering, starry-eyed, and blushing. That felt like an accomplishment at least. Viktor leaned back, till his shoulders hit his desk with a thump. A giggle escaped him, here he was, in his late twenties acting just like a school boy. But then again Jayce had only just left university hadn’t he? School was school, so maybe not so strange. At least for one of them.

Jayce sat back, swiping a thumb over his lip, smiling. Jayce was a good one, maybe this would be good for him. Especially if his only references had been books and film, oh speaking of…

“So, have you finished that book I lent you?” Viktor ventured.

[t-0ne25]

“I can’t sleep until I feel your touch.” — Option B1.1: Amethyst

[Make sure to please read Chapter 25 of Red Lights first, before you continue.]

As soon as you take another glimpse at the amethyst necklace again, you get thrown back to last afternoon. The purple dress. How he told you about his feelings. The kiss the two of you shared. Nothing comes close to that moment you had together. Fuck. You could have and should have realised so much sooner.

He was the first one you chose on this show, so he for sure will be your choice in the end, too. You head towards the cash desk, bringing the amethyst jewellery with you.

“This one, please,” you tell Lia while reaching for your wallet.

“The colour suits you,” she compliments you, while letting you pay and carefully putting the necklace into a small paper bag.

“Chan said the same,” you say, not really thinking about it.

Lia chuckles, “Are you guys finally a couple?”

“W-What?”

She rolls her eyes, finding it adorable that you don’t quite catch what she means, “Come on, when you entered the store with that bridal attire I thought you were running away from a spontaneous wedding into the arms of Chan. You’ve always had this certain chemistry that you usually only see in movies.”

Is this a sign? This is for sure a sign, right?

You grab the paper bag and put your wallet back into your purse.

“You’re right. I have to go, thank you, Lia.”

Rushing out the store, you almost stumble over your own feet and the ridiculously long white dress.

“Uhm, yeah sure, have a nice day!”

Half an hour later, you find yourself at the company Chan works at, knowing he will be there. Your expectations turn out to be true, when one of the assistants allows you entrance. Opening the door to his studio, you see him inside of it, big headphones covering his ears.

Still, he notices your presence, as he lays them aside, “Y/N… is everything alright? Why are you here?”

“You’re gonna be a lucky husband one day, Chan,” you boldy announce.

He looks at you confused, “What do you mean?”

“As long as you make me your wife, of course,” you add, shrugging your shoulders.

Chan gets up from his seat, shaking his head in disbelief. Long strides bring him closer to you. He’s a little puzzled why you’re in a wedding dress but he guesses it must be because of the show. Shit—did you really come to the studio right after quitting? You didn’t stay there till the end, right? It’s way too early for that. You were supposed to come back to Seoul tomorrow.

“Are you playing with me?” he asks, blinking twice.

“I would never, baby,” you reply, tilting your head.

His mouth falls agape, “Fuck… How… Why?”

“I made the wrong decision,” you admit. “I shouldn’t have let you go. No, screw that—I shouldn’t have said some shit like ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ when our moment hasn’t left my heart since then.”

A bright smile appears on his face, when he listens to your words, simultaneously pulling you closer as he grabs you by the hips.

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

“Absolute idiots,” you giggle. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and his gaze does the same with yours. “Just kiss me, Christopher.”

His mouth crashes into your own then, when he starts kissing you. A thousand fireworks are shooting through your veins, when he’s with you like this. You wonder if you would have made different decisions if you allowed him to kiss you that night in Vegas, but this doesn’t matter now anymore. All that counts is that you’re together with him.

“It’s always been you, baby, all this time,” Chan says in between kisses. He guides you towards the sofa inside his studio, before he sinks down and pulls you with him. You land on his lap, your lips staying connected with his throughout all time.

“It’s always been you, too, even before that night,” you confess.

“If that stupid red car appeared at the first try, you’d already be my spouse, hm?”

You keep kissing him, when he has you in his hold like that. It feels good to be with him. It feels as if it’s meant to be, after all.

“We’ve got all time now, baby,” you reassure him.

Chan adores it when you use that pet name for him—it makes his heart melt and his knees all wobbly. Although, you manage to have that effect on him at all times, really.

He suddenly changes the course, when he picks you up by the hips and lays you onto the couch. Now hovering above you, his lips travel further down. The irony that you’re wearing what looks like a fucking wedding dress, is insane. When Chan pulls the fabric over your head, revealing the red lingerie underneath, another thing gets spotted by his eyes.

“Is that an amethyst?” he asks.

You giggle, placing the gemstone between two of your fingers, “Hm, same colour as the dress you chose for me.”

“You’re insane,” he lets out, once again in disbelief. This all feels like a dream except for the fact that it isn’t. It’s all real.

“Insane for you, yes,” you chuckle.

Chan helps you out of your bra next, before he hovers his black sweater over his head. The contrast is almost hilarious—the elegant white dress that’s by now discarded somewhere on the floor and his simple but comfy clothes on top of it. 

His kisses enlighten on your skin again and he wanders further south, brushing over your breasts, taking one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, while the other one is pinched between his fingers.

“Let me get a taste of you, yeah? How’s that sound, babygirl?” he asks.

“Fucking perfect,” you reply, parting your legs for him.

“Make yourself comfortable, hm?”

You nod, as you allow him to take your panties off of you. A whiff of your scents enters his nostrils and he feels himself drooling at the thought of finally having you under him like this. Oh, how much he wanted to eat you out that night. Do even more. And start right again when the two of you woke up the next day.

His fingers spread your pussy lips apart, giving his tongue better access to your clit. A string of saliva hits you, although this isn’t even necessary—you’re already drenched for him, absolutely soaking wet because he’s so close to you.

The kitten licks soon turn into Chan making out with your pussy, as two of his fingers gently push into your hole, all effortlessly. He stretches you out perfectly, scissoring you open. Shit—you’re not gonna last long, that’s for sure. You should have done this back then, should have waited for another stupid red car to drive around the corner and then spread your legs for your best friend in that hotel in Vegas.

When Chan curls his fingers unexpectedly, you already envision yourself seeing stars very soon and when a few more encouraging words leave his lips, you cum all over him, coating his fingers and tongue in your juices. Your best friend helps you through your high, before he takes his time to lick both your pussy and his fingers clean.

“That was… unbelievable,” you say in between heavy breaths, trying to calm down a little.

A gentle kiss gets placed on top of your forehead, before you watch Chan walk towards his backpack that’s at the other side of his room.

“What are you doing?” you ask, balancing yourself on your elbows.

“Grabbing a condom,” he lets you know.

You gulp, “Uhm… you know, we don’t have to use one. I’m on the pill.”

Chan knows you’re on birth control. He’s your best friend and usually has to remind you to take it on time thanks to how forgetful you can get, especially when being stressed. But this is insane. The fact you’re gonna let him fuck you raw, lets him fear that he might just cum in his pants.

“Alright then,” he says, before letting the wrapper fall somewhere on the ground, out of sight now. You chuckle because of his excitement, waiting for him to come back.

“Chan…” you whisper, while he’s busy getting rid of the rest of his clothes.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, back on the couch now.

“I need you… so much…”

“Sure, darling,” he chuckles. “Can you turn around for me?”

You do as you’re told, getting on all fours for him. Chan places a pillow between your head and the armrest for a little bit of comfort, before he aligns his hard cock with your entrance. He pushes himself inside, centimetre after centimetre. Due to his size, you’re glad he’s prepared you so well.

Chan starts with slow movements but once he hears you moaning his name, drooling all over the soft cushion underneath, he picks up his pace a little. One of his hands is placed on your ass cheek, spanking you whenever you clench around him. The other one is at your neck, keeping you in the position he wants you in.

“Fuck– Chan–“ is all you’re able to let out. His hand wanders away from your ass, sneaking between your legs from the front instead—he starts playing with your clit, chuckling right into your ear, when he feels you get closer so soon again.

“Come on, be a good girl and give me another one,” he whispers.

“Chan– I can’t it’s–“ your body feels possessed by the sensations he’s giving you. 

“Oh, you can. I know you can, darling,” he encourages you, while fucking ever deeper into you, railing you into oblivion.

You hastily nod, “Yes– okay, God, right there, please, please, please–“

A few seconds later, your second orgasm takes over you. You drown out your noises, when you scream right into the pillow. Chan has different plans, though, when he slowly pulls you away from it, wanting to listen to your sinful noises.

“Let me hear you, baby.”

He helps you through your high, feeling himself getting closer. Your name slips from his lips like a mantra, before he pulls out of you and his seeds land on your ass and lower back. He is quick to bring an old shirt to clean you, before he hands you some fresh clothes that he has at the studio as well as a bottle of water.

“Uhm… the… the microphone was still on,” Chan says, when he takes a look at all the equipment, seeing a little red light blinking.

“I think we’re used to that by now. Feel free to use it for one of your songs,” you tell him.

He’s gonna faint anytime soon, if you keep going like this.

“God, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Chan slips into his clothes, too. “Let me turn all the devices off and then I’ll take you out for a date, okay?”

“Okay.”

⬅️ GO BACK TO LEAVE FEEDBACK

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

[jiliansky-blog]

In the dark. Chapter 4. Through the fairy woods

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 2100

You were sitting in his bed. What have you done? Where did he go? You can’t sit there forever. You need to find him and undo the mistake. So you got up and left the room to find Lucienne. She was in the library as usual.

“Lucienne!” you said desperately. “I did the mistake”.

“Oh god”, she took out her glasses and sighed. “Did you try to see him?”

“Yes”, you said. “The curiosity took the best of me! I wanted to look just for a second, and then he disappeared. What happened?”

“Why can't you wait just till the end of this week?” she asked, tired. “He would explain to you everything. And now he is gone”.

“I’m so sorry!” you sighed. “But please, can you tell me where he is, so I can find him?”

“I guess I don’t have another choice”, the librarian replied. “But I doubt that you can save him now. He is in the realm of fairies”.

“Why?” you asked.

“He argued with Titania, the fairy queen”, she said. “She wanted him and said that no one is going to get attached to him if they don’t see him”.

“Oh, that is why he wanted to stay in the dark”, you said. “But it was almost like he didn’t want me to fall in love with him. He even told me a story about a princess who dumped a god. And said that he couldn’t be with mortals.

“I suppose the thought of your presence in the darkness would be enough”, she sighed. “Now we will never know. But you did get attached to him?”

“I did”, you said. "So, what is Titania going to do to him?”

“He must serve her for a hundred years or marry her”, she said.

“Oh no”, you replied. “I need to help him, even if he hates me after my mistake. I can’t leave him here for a hundred years”.

“What can you do against the Fairy queen?” Lucienne asked.

“I need to fix it”, you said. “Morpheus always says that they can’t be trusted. And I read about them a lot. You can also help me. You can give me serious books about fairies. The more I know, the more prepared I’m going to be”.

“If you say so”, she sighed. “He won’t be pleased”.

“I know, but I need to get him back”, you replied.

“If you insisted”, replied Lucienne, who brought you books.

You started to read, but eventually you woke up. Anyway, keep reading for the next few nights. You could still access the Dreaming. Perhaps, Morpheus wants you to stay here. And then you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer.

“I need to go”, you said. “I need to find him”.

“Very well”, Lucienne sighed. “It would be better for you if you went there from the Dreaming”.

“But it means I continue to sleep in the Waking world”, you admitted. “And I don’t know when I’m going to wake up”.

“I can give coordinates where the places you need are, but it won’t be safer”, she replied. “Imagine, would it be better if you disappeared instead of sleeping in your house?”

She made sense. Your friends or parents won’t find you for a few days. You hope you will return until they start panicking.

“Alright”, you said. “Where is the path?”

“You're better off pretending that you're just another lost mortal”, she said while taking you outside the castle. “God knows what they will do if you find out who you are”.

You stopped at the beginning of the forest. Morpheus once told you that you shouldn’t go there alone. So that is entrance of fairy realm.

“Our lord usually teleports there, but you can’t”, Lucienne explained. “You need to go there through the forest”.

“And pretend to be lost”, you admitted. “What do I need?”

“Courage and knowledge”, Lucienne said. “I’m afraid if I give you something, they won’t believe that you are just lost”.

“Right,”, you agreed.

“They won’t give him up without a challenge”, she said. “She probably doesn’t want to give him up at all. So you need to figure out the plan”.

“I will figure out something while going through the forest, you replied. “Thanks for your help, Lucienne. I will save him”.

“I wish you luck”, she said.

And you started your way through the woods. First, the forest was green and in bloom, like in the spring. You could hear the birds' songs and feel warm. Then it became hot. There was probably a summer. Lucienne didn’t tell you that there are seasonal changes. And after that, the leaves became yellow and red. Perhaps, it was already fall.

You started to wonder if you could feel hunger in the dream and in the fairy realm. Or tiresome? When you decided to take a little rest and sat on the fallen tree, you heard the voice.

“Human? What are you doing here?” The voice was female and sounded like a child's. Can it be a fairy somewhere nearby?

“I’m lost”, you replied. “Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you my name”, she said. “The name has the power. If someone finds out your true name, it gives him power over you.”.

“I see”, you only replied.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I don’t know," you said, remembering Lucienne’s warnings. You don’t need to tell anyone about your plans. “I am looking for the way out of the woods”.

“But you are on the right way to our queen’s castle”, she admitted. “Are you trying to tell me that you are not looking for the castle?”

“I… Can I actually go there?” You were playing a dangerous game.

“You can, but you shouldn’t”, the fairy replied. “You should be more careful”.

At that moment, you realized that vines and roots had started to entwine your legs. And you jumped up and tore them apart.

“Very funny”, you noticed.

“Well, you did that, did you?” she asked. “Now I know that you are smart enough to help me”.

“It is a funny way to ask someone for help”, you noticed. “You distracted me. And they could kill me or prevent me from going anywhere”.

"Oh, common”, she said. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t warn you. It was just a little fun. Now, please help me”.

"How can I help if I don’t see you”, you replied.

“You need to come on my voice”, she said. “One man trapped me in the tree. You need to find me in the forest”.

“There are plenty of trees”, you admitted. “Can’t you be more specific?”

“You will understand when you find out”, she said, very vaguely. “Just come on, my voice. You will hear it more clearly when you come closer”.

“In what direction?” you asked.

“I suppose it’s on your way to the winter forest”, she replied.” Hurry up before my captor returns! What are you waiting for?”

“You are so demanding”, you sighed, continuing your way. “How did he trap you?”

“He lures me in with sweets”, she replied. “But don’t try this on me. I won’t be caught twice with the same trick”.

“And how should I call you?” you asked.

“Call me Rose”, she said. “It’s a good name. And you?”

“Mara”, you smiled.

“You learned your lesson”, she admitted.

“Okay, if you want me to find you, then you should talk, so I won’t lose your signal”, you said.

“You see the tree and understand where I am”, she said.

And so, for the next hour, you let her lead you through the woods. And soon you will come to the winter forest. It was only mildly cold. You won’t freeze to death in your white dress.

“Here it is”, said Rose finally.

And you see the blooming magic tree. Yes, you can’t pass through it. And some iron things prevent the fairy from going out of the tree.

“Oh, finally,” said the tiny fairy with wings and pink hair. “I became weak. Now I own you a life dept. And I am going to pay when you need it.”.

“You shouldn’t”, you said, trying to decline the offer.

“No, I will pay”, she insisted. “Now, let me take you through this wood to the kingdom. You wanted it, did you?”

You should be careful now. Furthermore, you should not show a lot of interest in her offer. Because then they can find out why you are here.

“I can?” you asked hesitantly.

“I can take you here”, she said. “But then you will be on your own. I don’t know if they decide to make you a slave or something else”.

What an optimistic perspective, you think. It is too late to go back. I have knowledge. That will be my weapon.

“Alright”, you said. “I always want to see what the fairy kingdom is like. I just shouldn’t eat your food, right?”

"That's a little more complicated”, she laughed. “Alright, let’s go”.

“Your queen…” you began the conversation. “What is she like?”

"Oh, she is very beautiful”, she said. “What did you read in books about fairies? That we kidnap children and girls?”

“Mostly”, you agreed. “And that you can’t be trusted. And you have a specific kind of humor that can be deadly to us”.

 “You know a lot”, she laughed. “I will give a piece of advice. Don’t show them that you know something. Better be underestimated”.

“Thank you”, you smiled.

“How did it happen that you appeared in the fairy woods while dreaming”, she said. “Do you want to be there?”

“Maybe, but I didn’t realize it”, you said. “I didn’t even know that I could come there in my dreams”.

And it was true. Morpheus didn’t tell you about that.

“You are fortunate”, she said. “Or not. You won’t just dance and eat. They will make you do different tasks”.

Yes, you know. Like dancing all day long, solving riddles, or telling stories. Or maybe they just make you a slave, like Rose said.

“Are you not afraid?” she asked.

“A little”, you shrugged. “I suppose curiosity is bigger than fear”.

"We're almost there”, she admitted.

And she was right. You came to the beautiful meadow and the castle very quickly. You were very nervous. Likewise, you didn’t know what to expect or how to find Morpheus in a discreet way. You were planning to think about it on your way. But then you met Rose. Well, you need to improvise now.

“This castle is beautiful”, you admitted.

“It is”, the fairy confirmed.

You see a lot of fairies having fun outside the castle. They were all so different. And all of them were looking at you with hungry curiosity. You felt like a mouse surrounded by cats.

“Rose”, a tall, blonde, and handsome fairy, approached you. “Our queen was looking for you. Where were you? Hunting the human?”

“No, I was trapped”, she replied. “And that human helped me. She wanted to see our kingdom, so I took her here”.

The man looked at you with curiosity. You looked at me in response. You can’t be shy, but you pretend to be awed. Likewise, you do indeed see the handsome man for the first time.

“You are cute”, he smirked. “You can be mine”.

“No”, Rose replied instead of you. “She came with me, so she stays with me as well. You can find another mortal”.

“Anyway, the queen wants to see both of you”, he said. “Let’s go before she gets angry”.

And you followed them. Everyone was still looking at you. Titania was indeed beautiful. With her raven-black hair and white skin. She looked at Rose first.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “I was looking for you”.

“I’m sorry, my queen,”, Rose said, looking down. “I was trapped”.

“And what about this mortal?” asked Titania. “Did you finally find a toy ?”

“I helped her”, you said, and the fairy queen looked at you. “I found her in the woods, and she brought me here”.

“And what did you do in the fairy woods, mortal?” she asked.

“I was lost”, you replied. “So I think it’s fortunate that we found each other, your majesty. Your kingdom is beautiful”.

“Very well, you can stay here”, Titania said. “But she is her responsibility now, Rose. OR you know what you can do”.

You felt that you didn’t like what she meant. But suddenly, a big black cat appeared near Titania. And when you caught the glaze of his blue eyes, you felt something familiar. Can it be? But he hissed and tried to escape.

"Oh, darling, don’t be naughty to our guests”, Titania said in a sweet voice. “You have nothing to worry about”.

You were almost sure that it was Morpheus in the form of a cat.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[worldswithoutendings]

Eye for an eye [Michael Langdon] pt. 3

here i go, here i go, here i go again. what i my weakness? michael fucking langdon.

part 3! I've never published a series before so I am lowkey, highkey really nervous to continue this series. so I hope you all enjoy this part <3!

pairing: Michael Langdon x female!reader

warning: abuse (for a little bit, Michael doesn't hurt you btw)

summary: just, Michael being nice for a chapter I guess? but also sassy

AN: p/n means pseudonym, you're drunk alter ego.

Julie left at midnight, even though you begged her to stay at least 4 times. You really didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, the whole day felt like a haze. Up until Julie showed that Michael's number was out of order. After you brushed your teeth you watched how your new phone shined under the LED light in your bathroom no I should just text him, maybe it was a wrong digit she used?

Hey, are you up?

Maybe he’s asleep, who knows. Why were you feeling this way? Your breathing also becomes quicker as your heart starts to beat faster with fear. Buzz buzz

Now I am. Yes.

“oh thank god” you gasped out, cradling your phone like a newborn.

Shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s 3 in the morning y/n.

I can’t fall asleep, sorry. I have this weird feeling in my body

well, you can’t die now. I haven’t given you the link to my perfume yet.

you change into your pajamas and lay down in your bed as you look at the conversation you're having with Michael. Weirdly starting to feel attached already to this man but you sigh deeply “No, no, y/n. what if he is exactly like all the others? Just needing me for the apocalypse and then leaving me to die” you mumble towards yourself “damn why are you always so insecure” the laugh you let out echoes through your bedroom. Strangely falling asleep with your phone in your hand.

Waking up to the faint alarm of your phone you groan loudly. As you unlock your phone you see you have 3 unread messages from Michael

I hope you’re asleep and not dead

Oh, you’re asleep that’s good! Hope you have a nice sleep

Why don’t we go on a date today?

“such a weird dude” you sigh as you get out of bed to go downstairs and make breakfast

Can we meet up tonight? I have to work till 5.

You don’t have to work.

Yes, I do?

You double-check your agenda and it is indeed Monday and you still have an hour to make it to the office.

Take the day off, one day won’t hurt, right?

As much as I would love that, I have to take care of some documents today so I really can’t meet up till 5. Mr. Langdon

You really can’t skip today, you have to admit your final documents of research you’ve been doing for work and the documents are important to Mr. Robinson. He has been bickering about it, especially last week. After you get ready you walk to the car, only to see Michael waiting there “Good morning y/n” Michael smiles and you sigh “Mr. Langdon I really can’t meet with you right no-“ “-show me where you work” he says as he fidgets with the door handle “you really want that?” you snicker and he nods.

Walking into your office together with Michael felt both weird and empowering. You thought that it would be hard to get him into the office but a few glares from the spawn of Satan himself and he got in without a problem. He followed you like a shadow for the entire day “y/n? Do you have the documents for Mr. Robinson?” mr. Robinson's assistant May said when she arrived at your booth and you nodded “Yes, I will bring it to him immediately” you say as you stand up. May looks at Michael like a fresh piece of meat “Shoot it may” you glare and she immediately walks away with a huff. You crawl over Michaels's long legs that take up your entire booth and he smirks “Do I need to walk with you?” he asks and you gulp “Mr. Robinson can sometimes be an ass so n-“ Michael stands up immediately as he hears the word ass “let’s meet this Robinson figure” he says  

The walk to Mr. Robinsons' office felt extra long today, making your hands more clammy and your throat drier “damn this must be some figure” Michael says as he puts his hands on both sides of your arms and you nod “I hate him” you mutter under your breath when you stand in front of his door to knock “you’re late y/n” His screeching voice makes you bite your lip. You hear Michael sigh softly as he opens the door “Oh you took an intern with you as backup, how cute” “this is not backup sir, and here are your documents” You drop the documents on his desk and Mr. Robinsons grabs your wrist “smiling could get you a long way. y/n” Mr Robinson says as Michael takes a step forward. Flaring your nostrils as you try to get out of his grip “I would let her go immediately if I were you” Michaels's voice sounded strong through the office “Oh what are you? Her little tiny boyfriend. Cute” Mr. Robinson says as he only tightens it, hurting your skin and you gasp as you try to pry his fingers open “Mr. Robinson you’re hurting me!” panic courses through your body until Mr. Robinsons starts to gasp for air, loosening his grip on your wrist and Michael pushes you back towards his chest “she quits” Michael says to Mr. Robinson who just nods as his airway is still close to cut off.

Shakingly you walk back to your booth with Michael behind you as he holds your wrist. You put your stuff in a box and May comes running to you “Did you fail?” she smiles “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. May” you sneer at her, making her actually scared “You can get my booth, whatever. I won’t come back” Michael grabs the box when it’s full and you walk with him out of the office. Only then realize what happened in the office “How the fuck will I get a job now?!” you gasp as tears start to flood your eyes. Michael puts the box in your car and turns towards you as you sit down on the curb “I need to pay rent, I need to get myself food. I-“ Michael shushes you as he holds you close and you start to cry.

Thankfully he holds you till you’re crying out and says nothing, it’s just you, him, and your ocean of tears “Sorry” you mumble as you wipe your tears away with your sleeve and Michael shakes his head “you’ll be fine, I can get you a job at Kineros. No more documenting, it’s an artificial intelligence cooperation run by me. You’ll be fine y/n” he puts his hand on your warm, reddened cheek as you sniff “now, let’s go home and get you some food okay? Take a nice walk or something” Michael helps you stand up and you furrow your brows why is he so nice to me all of a sudden “Hey, you’re going to be my future wife probably. I need to be nice to you” he winks making you laugh “yeah, you wish” this time, Michael brings you home in your car. First, you were very sceptic of him driving but he is actually pretty good “Wait, if you are not a, like you stated ´tech guy” why do you own an artificial intelligence corporation?” “I’m just the owner, the rest is run by Mutt and Jeff. That’s it” You nod once as you see your house in the distance and you sigh happily, happy to be home after all this mess.

Michael made you throw out all of the clothing you had just for your office job “You don’t need to wear those ugly grey pencil skirts anymore, they also don’t flatter you” Michael says as he throws them all in a bag so you can donate them “jeez, thanks for the compliment mr. antichrist” you blow and Michael takes one look at you as your standing in jeans and an oversized sweater “you wear this daily?” “If it’s cold, like today. Then yes” “I need to give you a whole new wardrobe” he sighs and you frown “A Versace, Dior, prada-filled wardrobe?” you laugh and he nods immediately “Yes! Exactly! Like what you wore to the cooperative meeting” Michael roams through your closet to find the black dress you wore that night. he holds it out and looks at it to also immediately get your size in his head.

An unknown ringtone filled your bedroom as you checked your phone, but it wasn’t yours. It was Michael, he hung the dress back into your closet as he picked it up “Michael, Rosalie.. yes.. no.. no I can’t meet you for dinner tonight I have plans… no…..okay…sure” he hung up and you can’t help but feel jealous, you almost totally forgot about Rosalie’s existence till the phone call “hey, you can meet up with her if you want to I mean.. you’re in a relationship with her” your voice gets a bit croaky at the end but Michael shakes his head “she’s not my priority now” he puts his phone back in his blazer as you play with your sleeves “here, wear this tonight. It looks pretty” he puts a red glittery dress in your bed making you giggle as you get filled with memories “what’s so funny?” “Nothing, this is actually my going out dress, so this is drunk y/n,” you say as you put the dress in front of you “Well more like p/n, she comes out when I’m drunk” you mumble oh stop acting like a fucking idiot in front of him please.

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Eleven

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, threesome, double penetration, poly negotiations, angst

length: 9,263

summary: you explore the house of the watchers

<-previous || next–>

The House of the Watchers must be endless. The halls wind in infinite paths, the odd clinking and clanging sounds echo from a distance no matter how quickly you walk towards them. Even when you, Mark, and WinWin reach the main corridor of the ground floor, it extends in either direction as far as you can see. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” Mark says, raking his fingers through his hair. Instinctively you reach for his hand, pulling it away from his hair like you’d done several times over the past stressful week. “How can something this big even exist?”

“Have you seen the underground of Hell City?” WinWin asks rhetorically. “That place is fucking huge too. It shouldn’t make sense either. All of this, everything in our world is made by magic. It doesn’t have to make sense.” He glances quickly down at your fingers tangled with Mark’s. 

You quickly loosen your hold, stepping away from both of them to figure out which direction you want to go. 

You’re almost certain that heading to the right will eventually spit you back out in the entrance hall, so heading left will take you even deeper into this maze-like manor. You feel the cold almost-brush of Mark’s arm beside yours, radiating a chill from his skin as he steps up beside you. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks. 

“I think we should go that way.” You point to the left. 

“And what exactly are we looking for?” WinWin keeps his voice low, glancing around even though you can’t even see any Watchers along this long stretch of hallway, though to be fair there could be hundreds of them tucked behind the many doors that lead off of this single hall. 

You shrug. “We’re just looking. To see what we can see.”

Behind you, on the stairs that the three of you descended just a moment ago, comes the whisper of footsteps. 

A pair of Watchers in white robes appear. Both have their hoods drawn up over their heads, and one carries a stack of books while the other has his arms full with an odd assortment of metal scraps, a bag of broken glass, a couple precariously perched beakers filled with oddly colored solutions, and a single potted plant with tendrils that have wound their way over the Watcher’s shoulders and neck like a child holding on. The pair of them don’t spare your trio a glance. They just immediately turn off the stairs and head left, exactly as you’d intended to do. 

“Should we follow them?” Mark asks, whispering now. 

“It’s not following. We happen to be going that direction too,” WinWin says, and immediately he marches off behind the Watchers. 

You must admit, if this little adventure you’re on to explore the Watchers’ House is meant to sate your curiosity, following these two Watchers seems like a good place to start. 

They’re quietly conversing as they walk a short distance ahead of the three of you. You can’t make out anything more than the low rumble of their voices. It doesn’t help that Mark has begun nervously talking beside you, commenting on the tapestries and portraits that fill the walls in between the doorways here. WinWin is just ahead of you, his head cocked slightly to the side, his gaze trained on the two Watchers in front of him, so maybe he is eavesdropping on them. 

They take a sudden right turn, climbing up a narrow staircase that emerges in a corridor that is filled with sunlight, bright enough to cast its light down to the hallway you’re standing in. The burbling sound of voices comes down with the light. 

WinWin turns at the base of the stairs, checking to make sure that you and Mark are still behind him. “Do we go that way?”

You shrug. “Sure, let’s see what they’re up to.”

You take the lead now, though WinWin sticks as close as your shadow, Mark trailing behind. The sunlight is warm against your skin, reminding you of a blazing summer day. You recall late spring and early summer days during middle school; the way the light would pour in through the big windows in the classroom to stretch like a lazy cat over your desk, pulling you inevitably towards sleepiness. That’s what this feels like. The same still air of your schooldays, filled with drowsy-making elements. 

You blink as you emerge fully, stepping up into the corridor. Clear panes of glass run along the wall ahead of you in either direction. The windows here almost all look out over the forest and a section of the gardens you’d passed through on your intrusion into the House. Some of them look out over grassy green plains of tall grass waving in the breeze. Others look out on a regular university campus caught in the midst of autumn colors — all burnished reds, bronzes, and muddy grays. You walk closer to the window right in front of you, one looking out on a grassy plain. 

In the distance you can see shadowy mountains, hazy from the distance. Closer at hand, a group of people ride on horses, though they’re still too far away to actually make out any features. You watch their progress until a bird soaring overhead distracts you, soaring from one edge of the window pane to the next before it vanishes, the sight of it swallowed by the change in view of the next window back to the forest outside the House of the Watchers. 

“What are you looking at?” WinWin asks, “Come on, before we lose sight of them.”

You pull your gaze away from the spectacle of the windows back to the sunlit corridor. The two Watchers have joined a group of a few more white-robed men, all of them carrying a variety of objects. They’re vanishing beneath an archway some distance down the way, after which the corridor shifts into a darker, woodier style, almost gothic. 

Mark walks closer to the wall, squinting against the brightness of the pure sunlight. 

That’s something you forget about. The sunlight-sensitivity aspect of his vampirism. It doesn’t burn him or make him sparkle (which is just a ridiculous twist on the legend, you think), but his eyes are sensitive in unfiltered total daylight. Dawn and dusk are fine, since he’d clearly enjoyed the sunrise just this morning. 

“Here,” you say, manifesting quickly a pair of sunglasses for Mark. You pass them over to him. “These should help; they’ll adjust to the light levels for you.”

Mark accepts them, turning them over in his hands to get a look at them before he quickly slips them on. The lenses in the round black frames have already darkened to a near-blackout tint. “That’s perfect.” Mark pushes them up his nose, adjusting them against his ears slightly. “You manifest some insane shit, you know that?” 

Is it really that impressive? They’re transition lenses; you knew people from your hometown who wore those all the time. 

“Yeah, well, they look good on you.” You watch for a moment as Mark fidgets with them again as the three of you pass beneath the archway into the darker section of the corridor. The lenses in his glasses smoothly transition from black to clear, and he looks just like he’s wearing a pair of regular glasses.

“You look like a dork, don’t let her lie to you like that.” WinWin brushes between you and Mark, knocking into the vampire slightly. His arm swings around your shoulder, bringing you along with him as he keeps walking forward, following the sound of the Watchers’ voices. Mark hisses something under his breath that you can’t understand, and WinWin only tightens his arm around you in response.

You pass by several open doorways as you follow the voices. There’s a rectangular wood-paneled room with a roaring fireplace, a billiards table, armchairs, and air with the lingering scent of cigars. One room is just filled with plants, and a couple white-robed Watchers roam between the luscious greenery. Several of the rooms just appear dusty and dim and otherwise empty. 

It’s only when you finally catch up with the small group of Watchers you’ve been trailing that you find a room that is truly occupied.

This open door leads into a large room with lofty ceilings and windows that pour more of that clear golden sunlight into the room. There are tables positioned in a semicircle around a podium, white-robed Watchers fill in around the tables as a black-robed Watcher stands behind the podium. As you, WinWin, and Mark gather in the doorway, you realize that what you’re looking at is a classroom. Likely, it’s some sort of a lab.

The Watchers drop their hoods, revealing youthful faces around the classroom. Books are piled on the tables, the odd metal scraps and glass fragments and plants and such are laid out carefully. They’re clearly students, you realize.

The black-robed Watcher begins to speak, getting out only the words, “Today, brothers, we will be—” before he cuts himself short. His still-hooded head turns toward the doorway. You don’t have to be able to see his face to imagine the twist of his facial features, particularly since his tone gets the point across clear enough as he says, “Begone, vermin. These lessons aren’t for the likes of you.”

A force presses against your chest, forcing you and the men on either side of you, back out through the doorway. The heavy wooden door slams shut in your face. 

“That was rude.” WinWin looks like he’s ready to reach for the doorknob and force his way back into the room, but you quickly grab his hand, pulling it back down, holding it between both of yours. 

“Maybe we should move on. If this is a school too, then there’s definitely got to be a library, right? Maybe we’ll find some stuff there, information on whatever deal Yuta and Ten broke.” You look down the corridor, noticing that it opens up ahead into a separate space. “That way.”

WinWin clasps your hand in his, and you can feel the pulsing heat of his temper, the twitching of his muscles. He stalks along angrily beside you, his long legs carrying him faster than you can almost keep up with, so you’re racing along beside him. He’s irritated, on edge around the Watchers. Not that you can blame him. That one had just referred to the three of you as vermin.

You begin to realize that many of the doors you’re passing by are classrooms, either the empty dim ones, or the ones with closed doors that you can actually hear muffled voices behind if you listen closely. Once you reach the end of the corridor, a staircase winds around the square space, rising high up above you and down several floors even though you’re fairly certain that you should only be on the first or second floor up from the ground. Here, too, is evidence of this being a school. 

A directory stands on the wall, arrows pointing back down the corridor you’ve just come from, more pointing up the next flight of stairs, some pointing down, and a few more pointing towards the continuation of the corridor ahead. 

“Why can’t they have signposts like this all over this place?” WinWin asks, studying the sign. “It would help to not get lost in the maze.”

Even as you’re watching, the words and arrows begin to shuffle. The arrow beside the words ‘Portal Science’ spins in a wild circle; it began pointing right, back the direction you’ve come from but when it at last comes to a halt, it’s pointing upwards. The ‘Language Studies’ arrow now points right, the ‘Combat Training’ arrow points down, and the ‘Library’ arrow points upwards. 

Mark snorts. “That would just be too easy if they had them everywhere.” He taps the arrow beside Library. “Are we going up?”

Of course you’re going up.

It isn’t just the pursuit of knowledge that leads you upwards seeking the library. You’re curious about the entirety of the House of the Watchers. The architectural style is fascinating, especially the way that the different styles seem to blend seamlessly, shifting from gothic to Victorian to almost modern in some places. As you climb the staircase to the next floor, your feet tread in the dips of the well-traveled stone stairs, your fingers run along the marble balustrade, which is discolored and worn in spots from the hands of the many passersby over the ages. This at least is a sign that even here time passes, even where the immortal Watchers reside, there is something that wears away over time.

“It makes sense that this is a school,” WinWin says as he climbs the stairs right behind you. “If all the Watchers are here, isn’t this where they would train the young ones? But how do they even have young ones? Aren’t they all men?”

Mark clears his throat. “The encyclopedia had an explanation for that, but you never wanted to read it.”

WinWin growls softly. 

“Watchers aren’t born,” Mark explains. “They’re made.”

You vaguely recall reading that part of the passage. It had been at the very beginning, and all of the more interesting stuff had been listed deeper inside the columns dedicated to the Watchers, so you’d focused more of your attention there. You’re pretty sure the encyclopedia hadn’t gone into much deeper detail than that, so maybe that’s something else you’ll be able to learn in the library.

It takes climbing up another two levels before the signpost’s arrow for the library points to the left instead of up. 

You feel the pull – the lure of the library, quickening your pace as you turn down the hallway to the left of the landing. 

“Wait up,” WinWin calls, but you’re rushing ahead.

Eager to find the treasury of Watcher knowledge, you turn another corner, and you run headlong into someone, bowling them over completely. You’re sprawled over this person, all tangled up together in limbs and too-flowy clothing, when Mark and WinWin catch up. 

You’re struggling, truthfully, to detach yourself from this other person. WinWin hooks his fingers into the back of your shirt, and with a careful yank, he hauls you up, sitting you back down flat on your feet. He keeps his one hand safely twisted in the back of your shirt, his other arm circles around your waist like an iron bar. Mark steps halfway in front of you.

Renjun, demure as ever, still lies sprawled on the ground where you’d knocked him. His strange eyes flicker back and forth between silver and hazel as his emotions fly. 

“You again,” WinWin complains through gritted teeth. 

Mark doesn’t speak, but his stance says it all. Teeth slightly bared, one arm stretched out towards you, and he’s hunched forward over Renjun partially. 

“Both of you, stop.” You shove at WinWin’s arm around your waist, which he drops, but he doesn’t let go of your shirt. “I ran into him, it’s not like he attacked me or anything. Back off.”

Mark and WinWin both continue eyeing the odd silvery-eyed young man with suspicion. 

You reach down, holding out your hand in peace to Renjun. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. Renjun clasps your proffered hand, accepting the help in getting to his feet with a kind smile. You smile in return, releasing his hand once he’s upright, and you continue with, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I shouldn’t have been running.”

“Where were you running to, if you don’t mind me asking?�� Renjun asks, brushing the dust off his clothes. He glances between your face, WinWin’s, and Mark’s.

“We were looking for the library.”

WinWin pinches your arm, hissing a quiet, “Don’t!”

“Oh, stop it, would you?” You twist around to face WinWin. “What does it hurt for him to know that we’re looking for the library? It’s not illegal, we’re doing nothing wrong, and even if we were, do you think he would tattle on us to a Watcher?”

WinWin folds his arms across his chest, staring down at you, and then glaring over at Renjun. “I don’t know what he would do. But I don’t like the idea of any of them knowing what we’re doing.”

At that, Renjun snorts out a laugh. “Sorry, but they definitely do have someone keeping an eye on the three of you. You’re strangers in the House. A vampire? A werewolf? They don’t trust you or even like you.” He points back over his shoulder. “But if you’re looking for the library, it’s right there, the double doors down the hall. I won’t stop you. Or inform on you.” The last part he directs at WinWin, stepping out of the way.

Mark makes a small disgruntled noise, but he walks around Renjun, heading in the direction of the library. WinWin follows too, though he loops his fingers around your wrist and attempts to pull you along after him. 

You do your best to linger behind a moment. “Thank you, Renjun. And, again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no problem. And if you need any help with anything else, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He smiles, a sweet expression that makes you smile too. 

You appreciate the offer of help, but of course, finding him would be the difficult part of that. Renjun waves goodbye, and then he disappears down the hallway towards the stairs. You catch up with WinWin, who only shakes his head at your friendliness with the young man that he doesn’t trust. Mark is already several feet ahead, pushing open the double doors that lead into the library.

As a child your parents had tried their very best to steer you clear of media that contained magic, but for a little girl Disney movies were almost inevitable. Sleepovers, school, good-intentioned babysitters had introduced Disney princesses into your life. Beauty and the Beast had been your favorite. The fantastic castle with its living furniture, the Beast trying to show human manners, Belle with her beautiful yellow gown, you’d been enchanted by the story and the animation. There had been no part of the movie that you loved more than the library reveal. 

That library had shown up in your dreams several times when you were in a reading phase, devouring books like it was your job. The library in the movie was enormous, decorative, everything that you could want. 

Stepping in through the doors of the Watchers’ library makes you feel like you’re in the Beast’s library at last. It is absolutely enormous; soaring ceilings at least forty feet high, massive floor to ceiling windows that flood the room with that absurdly pure sunlight. There’s a roaring fireplace big enough to probably fit your entire apartment back in your hometown, and there are a variety of cushiony chairs and sofas, reading tables and a table for books that need to be reshelved sitting in front of the fire. Narrow staircases and balconies and sliding ladders are visible all around the room. There’s a globe, which at the present moment has several Watchers surrounding it, observing small glowing marks that move across its surface. The floors are polished so well that it makes the library seem even larger, as if it extends downwards too, reflected so perfectly. 

Your awe-filled gasp captures Mark’s attention. He turns to look at you with worry, mistaking your awe-filled gasp as a reason for panic before he sees the starry way you’re drinking in the room. 

To the left and the right, the library has wings filled with shelves on the floor as well as rising up towards the ceiling. You can see Watchers milling through the rows and around on the stairs above. 

“Where do we even begin?” You sigh, stepping into the room. The scent of the books, of the fire, of something sweet and romantic, swells around you, drawing you even further into the room. “Maybe we should split up?”

You don’t even realize you’ve been whispering until Mark touches your elbow, and while pointing towards the left wing of the library, he also whispers, “I’ll look over here. Anything interesting I’ll bring to, uh, this table.” He points towards an unoccupied table in front of the fireplace. “But we might be here for….”

“Forever,” WinWin finishes for him. 

Eagerly, you nearly skip across the gleaming floor towards the right wing. You’re unsurprised when WinWin follows. 

“I don’t know what we’re looking for exactly,” he murmurs when you twist to look at him. “So I figure, I’ll just stick with you.”

You reach for WinWin’s hand, and you lace your fingers through his. “I’m not exactly sure what we’re looking for either,” you admit, “But I’ll know it when I see it.” 

What you want to find is answers. Why are Yuta and Ten really being imprisoned? What was the accord? How did they break it? Maybe you’ll find a history of the Watchers book, or a demon history book. Something like that that will clearly lay out the answers for you. 

WinWin quietly walks alongside you, holding your hand, glancing at the shelves as they rise up around you and him. You’re dwarfed by the sheer size and amount of books around you, and you think even WinWin must feel the oppressive weight of all of that knowledge around you. He clears his throat, lifting your entwined hands up so he can kiss the back of yours. You halfway ignore him, though your heart flutters as you face the shelves, scanning the titles on the spines of all of these books. 

“You know I’ve never spent much time in libraries.” WinWin’s words are soft, meant only for your ears, not for the Watcher who enters this aisle behind you. “In Hell City, I visited the library there maybe a handful of times over my whole life, never for very long. Books don’t hold a whole lot of interest for me, especially not ones like I’m sure you find here, the research, boring ones. But there was one day when I was passing by the HELP (Hell on Earth Library of the Public), shortly after you came back to the city, and I — this is kinda embarrassing to admit, honestly — I caught your scent heading inside, so I went in. At this point, I already knew how I feel about you, but you were with Yuta and Ten, wanting nothing to do with me. But I, uh, watched you.” 

That pulls your attention away from the books. You glance sideways at him, still trying to look like you’re browsing, but that’s a bit difficult because you also want to just look at him. 

WinWin looks surprisingly sheepish as he admits this. He lifts a hand to touch the back of his head, throwing a surreptitious look at you from beneath his eyelashes. “It sounds creepier than it is. You just looked pretty there among all the books, browsing the shelves. And you had this little line right here.” He touches a finger to the spot between your eyebrows. “And you kept biting your lip.” The finger drops down to brush over your bottom lip. “Your hair kept falling in front of your face and you would blow a bit of air out the side of your mouth to try to shift the hair away. It was cute, you were pretty, and I was so jealous that you weren’t mine.

“Damn,” WinWin sighs, “I’m still jealous. “I really, really like you. I feel like I deserve to have something good in my life, and I desperately want that something good to be you. Even with Yuta and Ten because they’re something good too, just in a different way.”

You’ve abandoned your browsing of the shelves entirely. Your gaze is locked on WinWin’s face. His fingers still linger at your lips, his other hand is twisted with yours.  You’ve turned to face him, taken a half step closer to him. 

“I already told you that the three of us already agreed that you’re welcome to join.” You whisper, leaning up on your toes a little. WinWin is so tall, which you’ve noticed before but right now, as you’re trying to keep your voice low, you notice it even more. You press a hand to his shoulders, lifting onto your toes as he dips his head so when you whisper your lips are closer to his ear. “I want to be good for you, WinWin.” 

“Fuck.” His fingers on your lip slip, dipping along your jaw, curling beneath your chin. You press up on your toes just that little bit more, turning your head to kiss WinWin. 

His hand previously entwined with yours falls away, instead he wraps his arm around your waist, his fingers pressing against your hip. 

It’s not a big kiss. Not dramatic. It’s hardly more than a press of your lips, but you swear WinWin is about to lose it over the kiss. You can imagine it now: him pressing you back against one of these shelves, hiking your legs up around his waist, his lips and tongue working magic against yours until you’re whimpering and moaning loud enough that every Watcher and Mark in this library can hear you. You think of getting fucked here like that, and it brings you back to the last time you got fucked — an alley in the underside of Hell City, Yuta first, Ten after. 

In the present, you fall back flat into your feet, putting a little space between you and WinWin. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, turning your back to him, running a hand over your face, pushing back a few loose hairs that tickle against your suddenly very warm face. “We need to be looking at the books. Focus.”

WinWin laughs softly, a gentle hand touching the small of your back. “Focus, right.”

That’s hard to do. You’re being hit on two sides with distractions — the memory of Yuta and Ten in the alley, paired with the sadness and panic that had followed, and on the other side are your fantasies and hot-blooded desire for WinWin. 

“Focus,” you repeat, shaking your head and walking away from him a little bit. 

WinWin stays at the section of the aisle where you left him. He tips his head back to scan the book titles on the higher shelves. You move a short distance away, close enough that if either of you spoke the other would hear it. A Watcher still stands at the end of the aisle, his black hood obscuring his face, his fingers run along the book spines. He occasionally pulls one off a shelf, flipping it open to search for something. His search appears as fruitless as your own. 

Long after you’ve gotten sucked deep into your focused search, the three of you remain in this aisle. You’ve found a few titles that seemed interesting if not promising, and they’re stacked together midway down the aisle. WinWin has a smaller stack beside himself. 

“Should we go find Mark?” WinWin asks after a long while. He’s holding his stack along with half of yours. “Maybe actually check through these books?” 

You agree, carefully lifting your stack of books. Some of them seem fragile and ancient, the binding crumbling where you touch it. You leave that aisle behind, heading for the table beside the fireplace where Mark is already sitting behind a barrier of open books. He’s still wearing the glasses you gave him earlier, and they do give him a studious look, but you like it. 

As you place your books down on the table alongside his, you glance over your shoulder, and realize that the Watcher from the aisle has followed you out of it. He’s not trailing you to the table, but he is standing several feet away, trying to look nonchalant as he studies a star map that decorates the end of one row of shelves. It’s definitely the same one; you can just tell, and it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that he followed you and WinWin into the aisle and out of it as well. 

A few of the white-cloaked, young Watchers sit at the other tables and in the comfy chairs surrounding this massive fireplace. You notice some of them throwing strange looks in the direction of your table, but none of them say anything. There are more of the Watchers in black sitting around here as well, and they also occasionally twitch their hoods in your direction. For the most part, you’re left alone and ignored as you and the two men begin digging through the tomes you’ve gathered. 

At the opposite end of the fireplace, there’s a table of the young Watchers in their white cloaks. They’ve been whispering and quietly laughing the whole time you’ve been sitting here, reminding you a lot of university-aged boys who spend more time goofing off than actually studying. You do your best to ignore them until suddenly a few of them are standing, the laughter a little louder. 

You lift your gaze from a page about a Watcher treatise with sirens to see that the boys are walking towards your table. And boys is an apt description; these Watchers are smooth-cheeked and bright-eyed, their faces are still a little round and soft, glowing with youth. They have a mischievous look, which should have been your first tip off.

Just as you open your mouth to say something to Mark and WinWin, the young Watcher in the lead, reaches out. 

His hand catches fast in the collar of Mark’s shirt. He hauls Mark out of his seat, throwing him down onto the ground, planting a foot on Mark’s chest. 

Immediately, you and WinWin are both on your feet. WinWin’s growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating an echo around the room. Your flames burst to the surface, flickering just across your skin — enough to be a threat, but not enough to let an errant spark set the whole library ablaze. 

“What do you think you’re doing touching our books, leech?” The Watcher sneers down at Mark, grinding his heel down against Mark’s chest. 

“We’re reading them, you dolt,” WinWin growls, a snarl ripping out from behind his teeth. “What the fuck do you think we’re doing with them?”

One of the others steps around where Mark is pinned to the ground, eyes red and burning with fury. This new big-headed Watcher slaps his hands down on the table, leering at WinWin as he brings his face dangerously close to the werewolf’s. “Didn’t know a dog could read. What other tricks can you do, mongrel?”

Mark hisses, his fingers twisting in the clean fabric of the Watcher’s robe, trying to shift the foot off his chest. WinWin’s fingers twist into claws, digging against the polished mahogany of the table, looking as if he’s about to leap across the table at the Watcher. 

You let your flames fan a little higher, finally drawing the attention of the small group to you now. You can see your flames flickering, reflected in their eyes. There is fear and awe and contempt in equally confusing measures displayed on their faces. A wave of heat pushes out from you, fluttering the thin pages of the books displayed in front of you. One particularly fragile book’s pages even curl and blacken slightly on the edges.  

“And you–” The one pinning Mark to the ground sneers at you now, his ugly face twisting. “You demon-loving, twisted little bitch.”

The next few seconds are a total blur in response to his insolence.

You can’t decide if the roaring in your ears is a result of your pulse and shock, if it’s actually the sound coming from Mark and WinWin together, or if it’s the sound of your flames growing and stretching out their blazing tendrils to sock the bastard right in his ugly face. 

All you know is that when the furious haze clears from in front of your eyes a few seconds later, the Watcher is the one on his back, his hands covering his face as he writhes in pain. Mark stands above him, bloody eyed and his fangs out. WinWin has knocked over the chair behind him, and the Watcher who had been in his face is crouching beneath the table. 

A black-robed Watcher stands beside you, his hand outstretched. Neither Mark nor WinWin so much as twitches, and it’s then that you realize the Watcher has somehow spelled them into stillness. You can almost see the invisible paralytic tendrils stretching from the Watcher’s fingertips towards the vampire and the werewolf. The way he stands and holds himself, you can once again tell it’s the same Watcher that had been in the aisle with you and WinWin. 

“Get up,” he says sharply. The two young Watchers scramble to their feet, running back off to their table, to the safety of their friends. With a wave of one hand, the Watcher sends all of the books that you had piled on your table off now to the table meant for reshelving. With his other hand, he gestures back towards the doors of the library. “Please, remove yourselves.”

“We didn’t start it,” you argue, bristling with anger since neither WinWin nor Mark seem able to. “Those ones over there –”

“I’m well aware. Please, leave.” He gestures again towards the door. 

Mark straightens, fangs still fully on display as he looks around at the other Watchers who still stare at the three of you. WinWin stalks away without a backwards glance, his hands clenched into fists, and his whole body trembles with barely restrained rage. You know that he wants to tear the Watchers limb from limb, not for them ridiculing him as a dog, but for what they said about you, how they treated Mark. 

“Let’s go, Mark.” He doesn’t budge from his spot, not until you walk around the table and grab his shirtsleeve, pulling at it. Even as you walk away from the table, from the Watchers before the fireplace, and the cluster of Watchers who turn and stare from their positions around the globe display, Mark glares at all of them, pacing along behind you, looking backwards. 

It’s only once the double doors of the library have closed behind you, thrown back out into the less glamorous state of the hallway that you feel like you can breathe again. 

WinWin stands with his back against the wall opposite the doors, arms folded across his chest, and a sour look on his face. 

Mark shakes your hand off, and immediately he walks away. 

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“I don’t know. Away.”

 He spits over his shoulder, and he keeps going, heading deeper down the hallway instead of back the way you’ve come. 

WinWin steps forward to stop you following him. “Let him be for a bit. He’s angry and just needs some time to cool off,” he explains. 

“We’re all angry, WinWin. They were being dickbags in there.” You throw a hand up, gesturing back towards the library doors. You hope your voice is loud enough to carry through the thick wood and echo around the vast library for all of them to hear. 

That draws a smirk from WinWin, amused even as he tells you, “I think he’s a little more than angry too. Mark might be embarrassed.” At your puzzled expression, he says, “Mark’s a tough guy. Head of his coven, boss of half of the Hell City underground. He doesn’t usually experience anyone besting him in anything, not like that. Not picked up, thrown down, and pinned to the ground while being ridiculed. Especially not in front of you. So he’s probably a little embarrassed. I know I would be.”

Oh. 

“Right. Maybe we should let him cool off for a while.” You feel your shoulders relax, though you didn’t realize how tense you were holding them. You exhale, bringing your hands up to your hair to just massage your scalp a little in an attempt to ease the slight headache that’s suddenly taken root. Your hands and arms still tingle from your flames, and for the first time you look down at yourself. 

The sleeves of your top are burnt, singed in some places and completely gone in others. “Damn it,” you grumble. “I ruined it already.”

“I kinda like it.” WinWin steps up to your side, sliding a hand against your waist. “A little sexy, a little dangerous.”

You bump him away with your hip. “Stop. I look ragged.”

“No, you don’t. You’re always pretty.” WinWin drapes his arm over your shoulders, spinning you around with him to head back down the hallway towards the stairs. “Trust me, princess, I’ve seen you in a lot worse of a state than you are right now, and you were still insanely attractive.” He looks down at you, gaze slipping down your frame. 

You know he’s talking about you during his rut, when you’d been dick-drunk, sweaty and naked, covered in hickeys and some minor bruising, both of you wearing scratches from the other. Your face goes a bit warm at the memory, and a slumbering beast in your belly stirs a little. 

Deciding that changing the subject is probably the safest route, you say, “How’s Mark going to find his way back to us? Or how are we going to find him?”

“I’ll be able to track him if he doesn’t show up in a bit.” WinWin taps his nose. You open your mouth, and WinWin cuts you off quickly. “No, I can’t smell them here. Before you ask. Yuta and Ten’s scents were out in the garden, but here in the house it’s too muddled, too old. I can’t tell where they are, but I think you were right last night for sure. They’re somewhere in this house, but I can’t tell exactly where.”

“Do you think if we got close, you’d be able to tell?” Suddenly, you have a hope like a tiny spark in the desolate darkness of the past several days. 

WinWin shrugs. “Maybe. But we can try.”

Truly, the House of the Watchers is absolutely massive and fully nonsensical in terms of architecture and continuity and obeying the laws of space. You and WinWin descend the series of stairs. You find the intersecting hallway that you and Renjun had passed through just this morning, the one filled with rainbow light, although two of the halls branching off of it are different than they’d been earlier. You pass workshop rooms that give off vapors and odd scents and light. You climb up towers with so many stairs that your calves ache. Through some the windows you can see far away over the forest and the garden of the Watchers’ estate, and through others you catch glimpses of many other places – a raging sea caught in the midst of a storm, a snowy peak in a mountain range, the view from a highrise in Shanghai.

WinWin doesn’t catch any scent or indication that you’re any closer to finding where the Watchers are hiding Yuta and Ten, but through your wandering, you do cross Mark’s scent a few times.

“I can’t tell if it’s from today or last night,” WinWin remarks the first time. And though he tells you each time that he detects Mark’s trail, you don’t come across him. 

You pass handfuls of Watchers. Some are by themselves, some are in pairs or other small groups. You do rediscover the vestibule that you’d passed on your way to the court room with the Watchers this morning, but it too has already moved. The courtyard doesn’t sit outside the doors of the vestibule, but rather a terrace dappled with sunlight through viney trellises. The courtroom isn’t located there anymore either.

It’s after you’ve been exploring with WinWin for at least an hour, possibly longer, that he stops in his tracks, nose lifted as he breathes in. His hand on your wrist tugs slightly, and you slow, swinging around to face him. 

“What?” You come closer as soon as you see the look on his face. Confusion. Excitement. He’s sniffing, turning his head from side to side as he catches the scent. “What, WinWin? Is it them?”

The seconds tick by painfully, anticipation and hope beating through you with every pulse of your heart. If he’s found them then all of this can be over! As soon as you’ve got Ten and Yuta back in your arms, you’re out of here. Fuck the Watchers. Fuck whatever accord they’re accusing Yuta and Ten of having broken. You’re taking your boyfriends and you’re escaping from here.

WinWin turns his head sharply, and then he snaps back around to look down at you.

“I smell… food. A lot of it.” 

Your wrist jerks almost painfully as he sets off down a staircase, around a sharp corner, he dips quickly down a narrow stairwell that’s nearly hidden in a niche, and then you’re stumbling out into glowing torchlight. Wall sconces line a richly carpeted hallway. Dark wood paneling lines the walls halfway up at which point fancy red wallpaper takes over. And there, a few short feet away from you, is a pair of doors with circular windows set in them at eye-level. 

From behind the doors you can hear sizzling, clanging, cursing, a rhythmic thudding, dicing, slicing, and chatter. The doors are kicked open, and a young woman hurries out carrying a covered platter. 

“The kitchen.” WinWin says, taking a few steps closer. He presses his nose up against one of the windows set into the doors. “Oh, damn, I’m hungry.”

The sound of a ringing bell sounds from behind the doors, followed shortly after by another. 

You stand beside WinWin, forced to stretch up on your toes slightly to see properly through the window. 

The room beyond is a blend of a modern kitchen, one that you would expect to see during the early 1900s in a fancy European house, and one even older than that. The floor and walls are both made of stone, all tightly packed together, large brown stones that give the space a cozy sort of feel. There’s a row of shiny cabinets and pots and pans and blades. There’s a wide fireplace with a big fire roasting small birds on a spit over half of it, and a large pot of some sort of stew on the other half. A cloud of steam bursts from a massive oven which one of the cooks pulls a rolling rack out of, and the rest of the kitchen is lost behind the steam. 

The wafting scent of freshly baked bread reaches you. 

WinWin pushes in through the doors before you even have the chance to fully appreciate the aroma. Naturally, you step inside right behind him. 

The action in the kitchen doesn’t quite screech to a halt, but half of the workers do pause in their jobs to look over at the two of you — the intruders in their midst. And it’s then that you actually do look at them. 

They’re elves. All of them. 

Pointed ears peek out from beneath hats, shining eyes dart between your face and WinWin’s and the door swinging back shut behind you. They’re beautiful and fine-featured, glowing in the heat of the kitchen. 

One elfin woman steps out of the cloud of steam. Her black hair is tied back, a couple curling strands escape the scarf that she wears to hold the rest back. Her eyes are bright gold, fixed on the pair of you, and she wipes her hands off on a towel at the waist of her apron before she curls her hands into fists against each hip. You can tell by her stance and the leveled gaze that she’s very likely the one running the kitchen. She’s also likely to be the one that’s about to kick you and WinWin out of the kitchen. 

“You’re not them.” She says, melodic voice carrying clear over to you. “What are you?”

Not who, but what. 

She looks away from the pair of you only long enough to sweep her piercing gaze around the room at the other elfin workers. “Get back to work. We’ve got a dinner to finish, everyone!” 

The others all burst back into motion. Noise resumes at once. The elfin woman strides closer until she’s standing just before you and WinWin. Her pointed ears glisten with small jewels, pierced all along the lobe and up to the point. She scrutinizes you even as you do her, and after a second she repeats her previous question. “What are you?”

“Sorry, miss.” WinWin dips his head, apologizing. “I'm WinWin. We’re guests, I guess, of the Watchers.”

She snorts. “Guests? That’s a new one. Usually there’s only the prisoners. And you?” Her gaze is surprisingly cold for being such a warm color. 

You manage to stutter out your name to her, intimidated by her absolute beauty. “Did — Did you say prisoners?” Your nerves can’t hold that question back from being asked aloud. The elf nods. “Do you know where they’re keeping the prisoners?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That information is worth my life, which I would rather keep, if you don’t mind.” She wraps her hands in the towel at her waist. “We don’t get free reign of the House, generally speaking. Mostly we stay here in the kitchen or the apartments, right through there.” She points a thumb back over her shoulder towards a recessed doorway beside the fireplace. “Occasionally we run up meals when requested, but other than that, this is where we are. They keep their secrets close, you know. Is that the reason why you’ve found your way in here?”

WinWin shakes his head quickly. “No, miss. I caught a scent of the food, and, if it would be alright, I am a bit hungry.” He glances over at you, then back at her. “I’m a werewolf, so my appetite is bigger than just two meals a day.”

She makes a slight expression of disgust. “High metabolism. Typical. Follow me, I’ll get something started for you. I’m Boa, by the way.” 

Boa is graceful, floating through the workers as they hustle about, effortlessly clearing a path for you and WinWin to follow her towards the back of the kitchen. You pass the fireplace and the large oven, a rack of drying herbs, a small cool dark room that Boa tells you holds cheeses and fruits and vegetables. All the way in the back of the kitchen, snug up against the wall with windows just at the top edge, are several tables and chairs. 

“Take a seat.” Boa gestures at the tables before she turns on her heel and walks away again. 

Not all of the seats are empty. An older elfin man sits in one corner. He wears age well, with a gray beard and silver hair. His eyes are a warm shade of blue that makes you think of the ocean. If he were in the human world, you have no doubt that he would have the world swooning over him, calling him a silver fox and all sorts of less appropriate things. Yet here he sits instead, in the dim kitchen of a mythical labyrinthine manor house in Purgatory, elf ears tapering to a fine point, and he smokes a pipe. 

The old elf watches you and WinWin closely as you choose a table at the opposite end of this small dining area. WinWin pulls out a chair for you, and once you’ve sat down, he pushes it in for you like a proper gentleman. He takes the seat right beside yours at this small round table, and takes hold of your hand once more. 

“You’re still so clingy, you know that, right?” You mumble at WinWin even as you hold his hand tighter. You like the comfort of his warm hand surrounding yours. 

“It’s my job to keep you safe.” WinWin replies. “Mark and I are both fully aware of what it would mean for us if you were in anything less than perfect condition when Yuta and Ten are returned to us.” 

Boa returns a moment later, bringing with her a tray of fresh baked bread, some kind of jam, butter, a selection of cheeses and a small teapot and cups. She deposits them on the table, and then, to your surprise, she seats herself across from you. 

WinWin immediately dives into the food, ignoring the way that Boa rests her elbows on the table, tucking her folded hands beneath her chin to observe you and him with her curious golden gaze. “So he’s a werewolf,” she says, “And what are you?”

The gold of her eyes is molten, burning into you for an answer. You readily give it. “I’m human. Well, I’m a tiny bit demon too. It’s complicated, a long, confusing story.” You wave your hand, hoping she disregards that and doesn’t try to ask you for any more details. Instead, you pick up a slice of the fresh bread — still warm from the oven — and you slather it with butter. 

Boa hums, still just watching you both with an unreadable expression. “And what brings a werewolf and a not-totally-human here? As guests of the Watchers?”

You really don’t want to rehash the whole history that’s led to this moment. You pour yourself some of the tea. You smear jam across the slice of bread you’ve taken for yourself. You avoid eye contact. 

Finally WinWin speaks up for you. “They’re holding a pair of demons. The Watchers came and took them, and they refuse to tell us the actual truth of the charges, but there’s a trial set in four days. Since we came all this way, they told us to stay for the trial.” He stuffs a bite of cheese into his mouth, then continues, “The demons are her boyfriends, and they’re good friends of mine and of our vampire friend who’s with us also.”

Boa’s eyebrows lift in surprise at the mention of Mark. “Oh, now there’s a vampire too? And where is the vampire?” She scans the area as if she thinks you’re making him up or that he can turn invisible, neither of which are the case. 

“He’s wandering around.” WinWin stuffs another slice of bread into his mouth. “We’ll probably need to go find him after we’re finished here.” 

“A werewolf, a vampire, two demons, and a not-totally-human.” Boa shakes her head. “Strange. I hope the trial goes well for your demons, dear.” She stretches a hand out to lay it comfortingly over yours. “I witnessed a trial once for a friend, and the result was guilt, tragically. I never want to witness a trial like that again. We elves think of ourselves as immortal because it can take so long to age. Look at our old elf over there,” she says, gesturing behind her at the man at the table. “He’s old as we come, pretty much. A few decades shy of ninety thousand years old.”

It feels dramatic, but you can’t prevent spitting your mouthful of tea out at this new information. “Did you just say ninety thousand?”

Boa nods. “Yes. We originated around the same time as Homo sapiens, but we developed slowly over the next hundred thousand years or so, stretching out our lifespans until we have achieved this. As near to immortal as anyone could ever hope to be. He has seen it all. Lived every tragedy and great fortune of the ages. Only the Watchers predate us, and even then, it’s only the High Watcher and a few others.” 

Her tone shifts as she brings up the Watchers, filling with a less than pleased tone, and it’s increasingly obvious that although she may work here in their kitchen, she doesn’t like the Watchers. 

She doesn’t have much more to say after that, nor more to ask. Boa sits quietly while you and WinWin gorge yourselves on the bread, jam, cheeses, and tea until the arrival of a few other elves from the door Boa had earlier indicated led to apartments. She leaves you then, once more wishing you luck with the fates of your boyfriends. 

Navigating your way from the kitchen, attempting to locate Mark, somehow proves less difficult than you’d imagined. Maybe because now that WinWin’s belly is full he can concentrate more on locating Mark’s scent, or perhaps while you both sat in the kitchen, Mark wandered closer. Either way, it only takes around ten minutes of looking for Mark after you and WinWin leave the kitchen to find your missing vampire. 

He’s standing alone in a hallway, staring curiously at a portrait hanging opposite a mirror of equal size. At first when you and WinWin approach, Mark doesn’t say anything. He just continues squinting at the portrait, moving slightly to get a different angle. 

“Its eyes follow you,” he tells WinWin. “Look.” 

WinWin stands beside Mark, trying to see what he sees. 

You stand back, looking around. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see movement. There’s nothing there when you turn your head, and you tell yourself that it was just a trick of shadow and light from the window at the other end of the hall. You would have believed it too, if not for you seeing it again before your head is even fully turned back around. You turn away as much as you possibly can while still able to slightly see out of the edge of your sight. 

A black cloaked figure lingers at the corner of the hallway, hovering just there, ready to duck out of sight again. You swear it’s the same one that had been in the library earlier, but that’s been hours ago now. 

You say nothing to either Mark or WinWin, just walking along with them, leaving that portrait behind. You find it’s actually rather easy to navigate your way back to your room, using the view from the windows to attempt to orient yourself. 

Mark and WinWin are too busy talking about the things they’ve seen while Mark was separated from the two of you, so neither of them notice that you’re still being followed. The Watcher makes sure to keep his distance, trying to be stealthy in tucking himself around corners, behind statues and doorways. You can feel him watching you in addition to the occasional glimpses you catch of him.

Only once you reach the landing on the spiral staircase, heading for the door to your rooms do you notice him walking blatantly up the stairs behind you.

You turn your head, looking at him over your shoulder, but the Watcher neither slows or speeds up, doesn’t show any sign of having been caught. He just quietly and steadily climbs the steps. You speed up, though. Your arm bumps against WinWin’s as you slot your hand into his, and he only pauses in talking to Mark for a moment to smile down at you.

Mark pushes open the door to your suite of rooms, WinWin follows him inside, and you look back at the Watcher just to find that he’s standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall with his hands folded in front of him. Waiting. Or standing on guard. Either way, he’s been following you, and as you step safely into the room and close the door behind you, there’s only one thing on your mind.

Why is he following you?

<-previous || next–>

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Fifteen

Dean immediately throws his hands up in the air as if he thinks I’m about to whip out a gun on him. “Woah woah hey, wait a second…”

“What are you doing here?” I demand, shocked by the invasion of my personal space. “You can’t just come to my house.”

“Okay, look, you weren’t texting back, I wanted to check that you were okay.”

I stand across from him with my arms crossed. “Well, here I am, I’m fine. What do you want?”

He gives me this loping smile that I’m sure he thinks is very charming and no doubt has practised in the mirror. He leans back against the iron railings. “I thought your housemate was lying when she said you weren’t home.”

“You rang the bell?”

“Yeah and she told me to go away.”

“I’m telling you to go away too.” I snip. “Don’t come to my house.”

He adopts a very concerned expression, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Evie, am I after doing something wrong? You just stopped talking to me after last weekend.”

“You got thrown out of my birthday party for being so fucked up, I didn’t feel comfortable texting you after seeing you like that.”

He sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I know, I know, I messed up, I’ve just been going through a lot lately. I shouldn’t have gone to the party, I just really wanted to be there for you.”

I arch my eyebrow. “Did you.”

“Yes of course! And I know, I know that the present I got you was shite, in fact, it was an insult of a present and like, I got in trouble for stealing it from work and all, it just really wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Well you can have the whiskey back if you want it. I never drank it.”

“Nah you can keep it. I deserved the trouble I got into.” His eyes get really big and soulful. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to put up with me, or with anybody, who acts like that around you.”

I shift from one foot to the other and try to keep my chin up, hoping that I have the kind of look in my eye that might turn him into stone.

“I have your real present with me, if it’s any consolation.” He says, and I watch him dig through his backpack to produce something flat and square, wrapped in paper. He holds it out to me. “I should have given you this instead of the whiskey, and also, I should have come to the party sober. I won’t ever be like that around you again.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not really, you can tell me I’m a dickhead if you want.”

I don’t want to tell him that. Reluctantly I take the present. It’s heavy. “Will I open it in front of you or should I do it later?”

“Whatever suits you.”

So I flip it over and peel the sellotape at the back. He’s done a very neat job of it, like, it’s as though he actually sat down at a table and spent time cutting the paper straight, folding all of the corners into neat, perfect little points. “I have no idea what this might be” I admit. 

“Well I hope that you like it.”

I fold open the paper to reveal a large, square book. “The Art of Mulan.” I read aloud, and then my eyes flick to his. “This is my favourite movie.”

“I know, you told me before.”

“I did tell you… but it must have been ages ago.”

“Yeah it was but I remembered.” His eyes are steady on my face, watchful, even.

I smooth my hand over the cover, bright red with Mulan and her horse Khan in the centre painted in striking black ink, the letters of the title beautifully embossed with gold. Despite myself, I feel my animosity toward Dean begin to thaw, I’ve never been very good at staying angry with anybody. “Thank you.” I say. “This was really nice of you.” 

He shrugs and looks away bashfully. “Ah, well, you know, it was nothing really. When I saw it in the bookshop I thought of you straight away.” 

His words strike an immediate chord with me. He thought of me… But still, I’m on edge around him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this. I tuck the book under my arm and start throwing glances at the door. “Well.” I begin. “I suppose I should go-”

“So I don’t suppose you want to talk more.” He interjects. “I feel like I have some serious explaining to do.”

I hesitate. “Well, Claire, my housemate and her boyfriend are upstairs. I don’t think they’d be very pleased if I showed up with you.”

A sigh. “Why? Did I make a fool out of myself in front of them too?”

I shrug and he puts his face in his hands. “Oh Christ. I’m actually such a bloody mess sometimes, that’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s alright, it wasn’t that bad, they’re just… a bit protective of me.” He keeps his face buried and I reach out to touch his arm in a stilted gesture of comfort. “Don’t worry about it Dean, honestly, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No, like not at all. It’s whatever. I was probably just being too sensitive.” 

He drops his hands and makes a sad face. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“Really. We can hang out, I just can’t really let you come in. Why don’t we go to the park instead?”

“Okay.” He says. “As long as you don’t mind the cold too much.”

“I don’t mind.” I promise. “Let’s do that, come on.” As we head down the snowy streets together I steal a quick glance up at the windows of the apartment, just in case somebody might be watching us go. 

Prev // Next

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 2 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings | Mature content | 18+ only [WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 4.8k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 2 -  Dark Blue World

You haven’t taken your eyes off Rooster for a second. Leaning against the opposite wall of the barn, a mere five meters or so between you, you avert your gaze for a just second as you bring the lit match up to your cigarette.

Meanwhile, Rooster hasn’t moved from his spot, languidly smoking his own cigarette, his legs stretched out in front of him, free hand stuffed in the pocket of his jacket.

He looks too relaxed. Like crashing behind enemy lines is nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. You almost wish you had his confidence. Or ignorance.

He must be putting up a front, you decide. 

“Here, catch.” You send the pack of Lucky’s sailing through the air. As he snatches the carton out of the air one-handed—which you hate you’re kind of impressed by—you notice him flinch slightly. If he’s so hurt he has difficulty making relatively small movements, he’s masking his discomfort a little too well. 

You don’t trust him.

Forget the stupid name. You are still not convinced he is who he says he is—so he has a pack of American cigarettes? He could have swiped those off a POW. 

On the other hand, you’re not exactly holding him at gun-point anymore. You half-expect him to suddenly get up and overpower you. In hindsight, you should not have probably taken your handgun, because you can’t fire the rifle with one hand unless you want the recoil to break your wrist.

But Rooster has made no move.

“So, what’s the plan, Anna?” He asks, putting out his cigarette on the floor next to him. “Are we going to stare at each other until one of us freezes to death?” 

You hate to admit you don’t really know what to do now. But you’re not going to tell him that.

“I don’t trust you -” You say tersely.

“Good girl.” He interrupts you chuckling. “You probably shouldn’t.” 

It reeks of that same arrogance—condescension, almost. You bristle, your face twisting into a scowl.

“You’ve given me no reason to trust you.” You cut back at him, voice louder than before, trying to establish some authority. 

“You’re the one holding the gun here, Anna, so you tell me what you need me to do to gain your trust.” He shrugs. 

He’s fucking with you. He must be. You’ve had enough of this.

“Get up.” You command him, as you take a final drag of your cigarette before dropping it at your feet, rifle at the ready. Finally, something that catches Rooster off guard. With a frown, he starts pushing himself up from the floor. His gloves slide off his legs and flop onto the ground. You can see him wince again as he leans on the wall with one hand, trying to inconspicuously keep his weight off his left foot.

“Can you prove to me you say who you are, lieutenant Rooster?” You demand, voice hard. “American naval pilot that crashed in Bohemian mountains?”

Bradley tries to keep the pain from reaching his face. His chest and ribs are killing him—they must be bruised worse than he thought. His ankle is fucked to boot.

Sure, he can prove it to you. But that also means he’d have to reveal his real name to you. It doesn’t look like he had much of a choice now.

“Hold on.” He grinds out. Bradley leans his back against the wall, so he has both hands free. His head is pounding again. Pulling up his right sleeve, his fingers fumble around his wrist. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to keep his wits about him.

You are apprehensively watching Rooster struggle. You don’t trust him, but it doesn’t bring you any joy or satisfaction to see him in obvious pain. He’s cursing under his breath until his eyes finally snap open. He extends his arm out to you, a small chain dangling from his fingers.

“Here.” He’s breathing heavily, his light tone turned to acid. Before you can react, he flicks his wrist, flinging the silver chain in your direction. For a second, it twinkles in the air.

It feels so deliberate, you break out in a cold sweat. He’s trying to distract you. He knows you can’t catch it, so you’ll have to take your eyes off him, leaving you wide open for attack. 

With a soft ding, the chain lands at your feet. You force yourself to keep looking at Rooster, waiting to recognize any sign that he’s gearing up to lunge at you. But he just braces himself against the wall again, eyeing you venomously.

You count to thirty. People get impatient, and that’s how they betray themselves. 

And you’re right.

Rooster’s free hand starts creeping to his back. 

Getting up, he felt that familiar weight. He still has his sidearm. Right now, Bradley knows he’s functionally useless, and hurt a lot worse than he anticipated. He can’t run. He has no idea where he is. So he’s going to have to gamble on the fact that you haven’t shot him yet or marched him to the nearest Gestapo station.

“Don’t do it.” You tell him levelly. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m doing this for your comfort.” He grinds out. “Keep a cool head for a few seconds and don’t go trigger-happy on me, yeah, doll face?”

Your index finger is resting against the trigger. You thought you’d be scared or nervous as you watch Rooster reach behind him for what you assume will be a weapon. But you feel completely calm with one singular focus, no distractions. You are in control.

Bradley pulls out his sidearm, dangling it upside down between his fingers by the grip, showing it to you almost sarcastically. Making sure the safety is on, he lays it on the ground, grunting from pain. He pushes it in your direction with effort, the gun skidding over the dirty ground.

“There. I’m unarmed now.” He looks back at you, sweat forming on his brow from exertion. “Happy?” 

Finally, you allow your eyes to travel to the ground at your feet.

A silver bracelet.

Keeping your eyes on Rooster, you hang the rifle over your shoulder, bend down and grab the bracelet and handgun. You stuff the chain in your coat pocket, before inspecting the gun. It’s in good shape and loaded too. You weigh it in your hand, before switching the safety off and pointing it back at Rooster. He looks tired, eyes glassy.

The concussion is real and pretty bad, that’s for sure.

“Maybe you should sit back down.” You tell him, keeping your voice neutral.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again if I do, Anna.” His voice is strained. You shrug in response. It’s making you uncomfortable how much pain Rooster seems to be in. He looks like he might pass out.

With one last look, to make sure he’s not keeling over, you pull the bracelet out of your pocket. It’s a simple silver chain with a small silver plate. One side has a winged shield with an anchor. Looking a bit closer, you notice the Stars and Stripes on the shield—okay, so that checks out. It’s American. 

“Lieutenant Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw.” You read out loud. 

“A pleasure, I’m sure.” Rooster drawls, but his words lack any edge.

“So your parents liked alliteration?”

Rooster guffaws, but curses right after. He looks downright pallid now. You stuff the bracelet back in your pocket but keep the gun aimed at him.

“Anna, I’m not going to lie to you,” He meets your gaze. “But if that did nothing to convince you, just shoot me right now.”

Before you can open your mouth to respond, he continues in an irreverent tone: “And make it quick, yeah? Shoot me in the head properly. I’m in enough pain as it is.” 

You can’t tell for the life of you if he’s joking, it’s the concussion talking, or he’s just insane. Maybe all three.

This might be the singularly most stupid thing you’ve done to date, but if you turn out to be wrong, you just hope your death will be swift. But if he’s truly an American fighter pilot, you have to help him.

You click the safety back on, before putting the gun away in your other pocket. Grabbing the rifle from the floor, you step in Rooster’s direction.

He’s eyeing you cautiously. 

“Let me help you.” You start. “You need medical attention.”

“Are you asking me to trust you now, Anna?” There’s a teasing tinge to his tone again. Where does he get the energy?

“We’re on the same side here.” You reply levelly, but a lot more kindly than you have spoken before.

“And how are you going to prove that to me?” There’s a glint in his eye. He’s fucking with you again.

“I can always just shoot you anyway, you know?” You shrug. Something tells you Rooster is going to be a handful to deal with. 

You walk up to him, only now truly realizing how tall he is. The man’s the size of fucking a tree. 

“Okay, lean on me.” You instruct as you come to stand next to him, putting your arm around his waist. Rooster easily wraps his heavy arm around your neck, pulling you close to him. You are pressed into his side now, and so close you can hear his heavy breathing and smell the leather of his jacket. It feels strange. Intimate. 

Especially considering you’ve been holding him at gunpoint until a couple of minutes ago.

As you try to take the first step together, you think your knees might buckle under his weight, but you steel yourself. You need to get him and yourself out of this barn before you both catch your death.

“It’s not far.” You urge him. “But you can’t stay here.”

Bradley just nods, needing every last scrap of energy to keep his body moving. His head is spinning widely from exertion now, but he has to keep himself from going down. There is no way you can hold his full weight, and getting injured even worse from an uncontrolled fall is very far down his current list of priorities. Not to mention, he would probably crush you.

When you finally make it outside, Bradley is surprised to see the cabin so close. He had no idea it was there. Although, you would have probably straight-up shot him if he knocked on your door at night.

“We should try to hurry.” You comment, eyes moving up to the sky. Dark clouds are rolling in. There is a snowstorm coming, and even a mere fifty paces can become an insurmountable task in bad weather with an injured person. Rooster grunts in response.

By the time you finally reach the cabin, you are both sweating and panting. The wind has picked up again, lashing your skin with cold ice.

You help Rooster into one of the chairs, setting him down heavily. He moans in agony as his shoulder hits the back of the chair. Rooster’s eyes are closed, still breathing heavily. As long as he doesn’t fall out of the chair, this is a fine place for now. You mumble an apology, trying to think about what to do first.

Make a fire. You are high enough up the mountain right now that they won’t see the chimney smoke in the valley through the snowstorm. 

You get to work, stuffing the wood stove with dry pine twigs to get a flame going. Grabbing a big pot, you quickly slip outside to scoop fresh snow into it, so you can boil water. He’ll need his wounds cleaned. There is a first aid kit stashed somewhere if you remember correctly.

Your brain is running a mile a minute. Shit. You should also really get changed. You’re still only wearing your nightgown under your coat. Looking back at Rooster, who is now heavily leaning his head on his hand, you decide it’s a fine moment to grab your rifle and slip away into the bedroom.

You wonder if you should barricade the door. There’s nothing really in here, short from pulling the massive dresser or the whole bed in front of the door. You shift on your feet for a moment, unsure what to do. Should you just risk it? Rooster is barely capable of walking. 

At least, seems to be. There’s still a niggling voice in the back of your head that he might turn on you at any moment.

But the longer you stand here, the more time you’re giving him to regain some strength again. And he might be exaggerating him pain. You can’t ever really trust anyone in times like these.

Taking Rooster’s sidearm from your pocket, and leaving it on the bed, you grab your clothes from the dresser. Slipping into clean underwear, you hop into your only pair of pants, soft loose gray slacks. Tucking your white camisole into the waistband, you tighten the belt, before shrugging on a knitted maroon cardigan.

Your friend Eva made it for you—she is so much better at these things than you, your lumpy socks being your most utilitarian creation to date. Pulling your boots back on, and tucking the gun in the back of your waistband, a sudden realization strikes you.

It feels like a bucket of ice-cold water is dumped over you. 

You left your own gun on the table.

Your hands are shaking as you undo your messy braid. Maybe he didn’t notice. 

It takes you three tries to simply pin your hair away from your face. Brushing stray strands behind your ears, you lick your lips nervously. 

Stuffing your nightgown into the dresser, you grab the gun off the bed and move across the room swiftly. Holding your breath, you press your ear against the door. 

Nothing.

You swallow dryly, clicking the safety off. Closing your eyes for a second, you try to push your panicked thoughts out of your head. Rooster lying in wait with your own loaded gun, shooting you the moment you walk through the door. Torturing information from you. Setting up an ambush for the others with your weapons and supplies.

No, you chastise yourself. And no matter how it stands, you can’t stay here in the bedroom anyway. Better to find out now than to wait.

Willing your fingers to stop shaking, you pull the door open a fraction. No movement or sound from the other side, only the soft crackling of the fire in the wood stove.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you notice Rooster is still sitting in the same position you left him. You spy your gun on the far end of the table. It’s still within his reach, but realistically you’d be dead by now if he wanted to kill you.

Swinging the bedroom door open, keeping your gun pointed at Rooster’s motionless form, you pad over to the table, heart beating in your throat, swiping the other gun away.

Okay. That was painless, right?

You stuff Rooster’s sidearm into one of the kitchen cupboards, behind a few mismatched mugs, electing to trust your own gun. The snow in the big pot has melted, although it’s not quite steaming yet. As you look back, you notice he still hasn’t stirred, like he hasn’t even noticed you coming back in. 

The air in the cabin is warming up rapidly. You sigh. You haven’t actually felt warm since you got here two days ago—the weather being too clear to safely light the stove, the smoke from the chimney might attract unwanted attention. Opening a cabinet, you dig around for the first aid kit that should be stashed somewhere. It’s small, but it should suffice.

Many pass by this cabin, usually leaving something for the next visitor. You brought two jars of strawberry preserve that you got from the black market.

It’s not exactly a safe house, more a rest stop for… well, whoever is left these days. Partisan groups out on maneuvers, smugglers, paratroopers being dropped into the Protectorate to support the resistance, and people on the run. And crashed American pilots now.  

Most of the time it sits empty. You are only here because of the unpredictable weather— you can’t afford to miss your rendezvous.

Filling a bowl with warm water, and grabbing a clean cloth and the first aid kit, you make your way to the table. 

“Hey. Wake up.” Putting everything down and pulling out the other chair, you carefully nudge Rooster against his shoulder. He responds only with a grunt, dangerously swaying in his chair. You grab him by the shoulder, forcing him to sit upright. If he keels out of the chair, you’re not sure if you can actually get him up from the floor.

Finally, his eyes open a fraction—he’s looking at you, but you’re not actually sure he can see you. His cheeks are dusted red, sweat beading near his hairline. Shit. Gently putting your hand over his damp forehead, you confirm your suspicion. He’s burning up.

No wonder, he spent the better part of the night in that barn. It’s probably not helping that he’s wearing his thick outer clothes in the rapidly heating cabin.

Tugging the zipper of his jacket open, you focus on pushing the thick fabric of his shoulders. It doesn’t really give, and Rooster sitting there like a dead weight is really not conducive to the effort either. His eyes are following you.

“Hey Rooster.” You implore him softly, looking up at him. “I need your help here. You need to take the jacket off.” 

To your surprise, he nods. His face contorts in pain as he moves his torso, slowly shrugging off the jacket. You help him by pulling the sleeves over his hands. 

“You should feel a bit more comfortable now.” You add.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds tired and distant. You unwrap the white scarf around his neck—it’s bloody from his wounds. He’s still wearing his boots and a flight suit. But it’ll do for now.

Pulling up the other chair closer, your knees almost touching his, you dip the cloth in the cooled water, wring it out, and gently dab it over his forehead. Rooster sighs and closes his eyes again.

“I’m just going to clean the cuts on your face and head.” You supply gently. He just nods in understanding. In silence, you rub the dried blood off his cheek, chin, near his hairline and neck, the water in the bowl slowly turning a sickly shade of pink. Outside it’s storming, the view from the windows completely obscured by the whiteout. The wind is howling eerily, rattling the door. 

But it’s strangely calm inside. Warm. Almost cozy. The crackle of the wood, Rooster’s soft, even breathing, and the slosh of water in the bowl are the only sounds in your little bubble.

Bradley is grappling with staying conscious. Everything hurts, every limb is heavy. The moment the final remnants of his adrenaline rush left him, the fever took its place. He can barely focus on what you are saying to him, only feeling the soft press of a damp cloth against his face. The cuts burn at the contact, but the brush of your fingers feels cool against his heated skin.

“This might sting a bit.” Your voice sounds so far away to Bradley, like the words are floating past on a gust of wind. Your fingers are on his face again, gently holding him as you press alcohol-soaked gauze against his wounds. Involuntarily, he sucks in a breath between his teeth, jerking his head a little. 

You shush him gently, steering his head back against the gauze. Finally, Bradley opens his eyes again, the sting and smell of alcohol pulling his consciousness back into the present. Your face is close, as you sit bent forward in your chair, and even through the haze of his brain being scrambled by impact and fever, Bradley finally has a moment to study you. 

Your eyes look so much softer now, but that little crease between your eyebrows is still there, as you focus on your task. Your hair is pinned back somewhat messily, rogue strands falling around your face. He can’t help but notice how your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you work. He also can’t help but notice you are anything but hard on the eyes.

There is an innocence about you, a soft youthfulness, that is at odds with how confidently you had been handling that gun before, but also how pragmatically you are treating his wounds. 

Suddenly you pull your hands back. It leaves Bradley feeling strangely empty.

“There.” A small smile tugs at your lips. Bradley’s eyes follow you as you move back. “You should eat and drink something.”

He tunes out what you are saying, having a hard time focusing on your voice as you move away to the stove. He is parched. And the last time he ate must be over a day ago.

Time is behaving strangely, it’s like you’ve only just spoken and in the next moment you are putting a bowl of steaming oatmeal in front of him, topped with red jam. You hand him a glass of water, which he drinks greedily. It hurts his chest as he swallows, but it’s the best drink of water he’s ever had. You refill his glass.

Slowly, Bradley eats. It’s giving him some energy back, helping the world come back into focus. When you move into his line of vision again, he can finally speak without feeling he’s going to black out.

“Thanks.” He nods at you. There is that ghost of a smile playing on your lips again, but it’s like you won’t allow it to actually break through.

“Ready for the next part?” You ask him diplomatically, instead.

“What’s that?”

“I should check your ribs.” You supply easily, tucking your hands in your pockets as you stand in front of him. Rooster is looking up at you, some life back in his soft brown eyes. Sitting down across from him again, scooting forward in your seat, you ignore how your knee brushes against his.

Guiding Rooster by his shoulder to sit up straight, you brush your fingers down his sides. He flinches lightly under your touch.

“I can’t really feel anything through your clothes.” 

“I feel plenty.” Rooster replies, somewhat strained. Your hands are already on the zipper of his flight suit, tugging it down.

“Are you a nurse?” He suddenly asks. You stop, looking at him questionably. He seems genuinely curious. You shake your head.

“Well, normally you’d need to at least buy me a drink first—I’m not that easy,” A devilish grin replaces his genuine expression. “But I suppose I can make an exception for you.”

You send him a withering look. His grin broadens. Of course the first thing he would do when he regains energy is to start fucking with you again.

You drag the zipper down far enough that he should be able to slip his arms out of the suit. Standing up, you lightly start tugging his collar, moving it down his shoulders. 

Bradley is trying not to notice how close you are, standing between his legs, hands brushing against the skin of his neck as you are undressing him.

Too soon you sit back down again, gently pulling his arms out of the sleeves. He hisses in pain. His white skivvy shirt clings to him. You don’t give him a moment to recover—the faster you do this, the fast it will be over.

The tips of your fingers are dancing over his sides again, poking and prodding lightly. Your eyes flash up to meet his for a mere second. You can see clearly how the muscles in his neck are taut, his jaw clenched. 

“I’ll be done quickly.” You tell him apologetically. “But we see a lot of cracked ribs after parachute landings. In forests especially.”

“Who is we?” Bradley grinds out.

“Those who would see the independent, democratic Czechoslovak Republic restored.” You reply evasively. “By any means necessary.”

“Ah, so you’re resistance?” Bradley groans, as your fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot.

You shrug, before softly admitting: “What’s left of it.”

Suddenly you pull back, clasping your hands in front of your chest, that ghost of a smile on your lips again. “Well, it doesn’t look like you broke anything as far as I can tell.”

“Smalls blessings.” Rooster breathes out, waiting for the burning pain his torso to dull again.

Sitting back in your chair, you regard Rooster for a moment before getting up. His chocolate brown eyes seem more in focus than they were before, and are following your every move. “I’ll make us some tea.”

When you sit back down, carrying two mismatched mugs and an old pot, Rooster is leaning his elbow on the table again, eyes gradually fluttering close again. It’s warm in the cabin now, and he should probably rest. He already fell asleep concussed, so it’s probably enough to check some basics.

“What year is it?” You ask suddenly.

“1943, January.” His gaze meets yours again. “The 25th by my estimation.”

You nod. “And who’s the president?”

“Hitler.”

You almost spill the tea you’re pouring into the red polka-dot mug. Not because you think it’s particularly funny, and it isn’t true either. But something about Rooster’s joking way is—you hate to admit it—kind of disarming.

“The American president, Rooster.” You specify, like you would if you were talking to a child, pushing the mug his way. You start filling your own, which is painted with blue cornflowers. The earthy herbal smell of the tea filling the air.

“Oh. Yeah, in that case, Roosevelt.” He looks almost sheepish like he expected you to laugh at his joke. You nod.

“I suppose that’s good enough.” You get up, your knee once again brushing against his. Try not to think about it. “You need rest. I’ll prepare a place to sleep. Drink your tea in the meantime.”

And with that, you disappear through the door. Bradley sighs. After crashing, there are worse fates than ending up in a cabin with a cute girl connected to the resistance, he supposes. You haven’t shot him, but his charm doesn’t seem to work on you much either. Or you just don’t think he’s funny. 

He’d like to think it’s a language barrier, but despite you speaking like some sounds are ill at ease in your mouth, you, unfortunately, have a pretty solid grasp of English. You’re just quite serious, he surmises.

A challenge then. 

Bradley would kind of like to see you laugh, not that mirage of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips—but a real one. You’re probably even cuter then.

He likes girls that laugh, and he likes it even more when he is the one making them laugh. And most girls like him for making them laugh.

When you come back, he ties the sleeves of his flight suits around his waist before you help him up. His arm is around your neck again. Of course you noticed the thick, defined muscles of his arm when you took off his flight suit. You just chose not to dwell on it. And course his bare skin feels hot against the skin of your neck. You’re trying to ignore it. His side is pressed against yours, your hands resting on his waist. Of course you are aware of how his muscles are moving against your palm under the thin cotton. But you’re only trying to help him.

You set him on the freshly made bed. “Do you need help with your boots?”

“Would much appreciate it, Anna.” 

Kneeling down, you easily slip the zipper of his right boot down, pulling it off his foot. When you lift his left heel, you take care to pull the zipper down gently, as not to jostle his foot too much. Your fingers wrap around his calf to steady his leg as you carefully shimmy off his boot. Bradley appreciates your soft touch, and how you anticipate what to do to keep it from hurting more.

“Your ankle seems pretty swollen.” You comment, palming the area gently. Even through the thick sock, you can feel the swelling. Best not to jostle it further.

“It hurts like it is.” Bradley retorts dryly. He looks at you for a reaction, but your face stays neutral. Your expression is still soft, but there is neither a smile nor a frown on your face right now. You help him lie down, propping up his left foot with an extra pillow. Bradley feels his eyes fall shut the moment his head hits the fluffy pillow.

“You’re not going to read me a bedtime story, Anna?” He can’t help but needle you one last time. He likes to think that the corners of your mouth quirk up for a second in the dim light of the closed curtains.

“Sleep well, Rooster.” You reply lightly as you click the door shut behind you.

***

note | I'm just really enjoying writing this. I promise I'm still finishing Wish You Were Here too, it's about half-way done.

taglist | @ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 | @turningtoclown | @mell-bell | @mak-32 | @avis15 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut | @notroosterbradshaw | @eli2447 | @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog | @m-1234

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, sad!noah. | Word count: 1.2k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“I thought we agreed on going to the movies tonight,” I said, my voice tinged with a simmering anger as I locked eyes with her. 

“Yeah,” she replied, her tone hushed. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “But Mitch wants to take me out for dinner. He insisted it has to be today because he’ll be out of town for two weeks. Something came up.”

I could see the struggle in her eyes. She’d probably been battling herself about deciding between our plans or going out with Mitch. 

Clearly, Mitch had won. 

“Two weeks,” I repeated, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. “Can’t you meet him then? We planned on going to the cinema tonight. We decided it last month, Lia.”

“I know. I know and I’m sorry,” she insisted, raising her voice a little, her features still marked with her apprehension. “But I don’t want to disappoint him.”

I made a face, not particularly concerned about whether Mitch would be disappointed or not. 

“And what about me?” I shot back.  

“Noah, I really like him,” she was begging now, demanding understanding from me. Her eyes locked onto mine from across the room. 

“Yeah, I can see that…” I muttered. 

I let my shoulders fall and turned around, busying myself with the coffee machine. 

“You know what? Whatever,” I concluded. “Go hang out with Mitch. It’s all you’ve been doing lately, anyway. I’ll call Matt and give him your movie ticket.”

My response caught her off guard, and the room filled with an unexpected stillness, silence.

“I’m not doing anything wrong, Noah,” she said. Her tone had changed. She knew she had lost a battle against me, so there was no point in keeping up the never-broken-a-plate-princess façade. “And what do you mean with that? If you weren’t my friend, I’d say you’re jealous.”

That’s the fucking problem, I thought bitterly. I’m your best friend. I shouldn’t feel like this.

“And what if I am?” I turned to face her again, holding an empty cup of coffee in my hand. “I feel like a barely see you these days. With your side jobs and this guy there are days in which I don’t even know if you’re here or on the other side of the country.”

“Well, that’s how life is, isn’t it?” She gestured broadly, a bit of exasperation tinging her voice and features. “We have things to do, and it’s the first time I feel like I really like someone. Mitch is funny and interesting, and I can tell he likes me. I want to give it a chance, see where this is going. Maybe… Maybe he’s the one. At some point we have to move on, don’t you think?”

I didn’t like where that conversation was going. Not one bit. 

She must have sensed my unease, just as I could sense her emotions, because her following words came out from her mouth with a tenderness that I couldn’t fight against, “and being busy doesn’t mean that you will stop being my best friend and the person I care for most in the world.”

There it was, that look again. Those captivating brown eyes of hers had a way of bringing me to my knees. 

I slumped my shoulders again. 

“I’m sorry,” I admitted, vulnerability in my voice. “I just… I don’t like it. I don’t like… not seeing you that often.”

“I know,” she said softly, extending her hand over the kitchen isle until it reached me. I lay my hand on hers, and her fingers wrapped around my skin, the coolness of her rings spreading to me. “I feel upset about that, too, but didn’t we have a similar talk when I decided to move into my own apartment? You thought that not leaving under the same roof, not seeing each other for breakfast and then before going to bed, would strain our relationship. Has that happened? I’ve had my own place for over a year now. Have we steered away from each other?”

The opposite. As the years went by, I felt more attached and connected to her.. The more restricted time to talk had helped to create a secret language between us that was based on looks and… Sensations? Yeah, I could feel when she was extremely happy about something or whenever something was off. Our bond intensified during this time that we had spent living in separate spaces, which only solidified my belief that we needed each other.  

“I agree with all you say. Maybe I’m just scared that at some point our lives will follow different paths and eventually, we’ll just forget each other.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” she reassured me, her thumb gently stroking my hand. A small, reassuring smile graced her lips. “It doesn’t matter if I end up moving to the other side of the world, or if you… I don’t know, get married and have kids. You’ve had that dream since forever, haven’t you? We’re supposed to pursue our dreams at some point, but you have always been the only constant in my life. I’m never forgetting that, and I’m definitely not throwing it away.” 

Her words stirred confusion within me. The mention of me getting married and having kids suddenly felt like an unwelcome intrusion into the life we had built together – a life that felt practically perfect.

Something tugged at my heart. I wanted to be honest with her. 

“I don’t want you to stop needing m—.”

Then, the doorbell rang. 

“That must be Mitch,” Lia said, both of us turning to face the interruption. 

Damn it. 

She sent another reassuring look my way, removing her hand from mine as she headed to the entrance and opened the door. I watched her smile widen as Mitch appeared into vision, wearing a worn jeans jacet and denim of the same color. He kissed the cheek she offered him, his eyes catching mine as Lia welcomed him inside. 

“You spend more time in this house than in your own apartment,” Mitch said, making his way in. He hid his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, and I noticed he didn’t seem quite comfortable there, not even when he glanced at me and sent me a friendly smile. 

“Noah doesn’t think quite the same,” Lia replied, her voice joyful. 

She was so lovely, her tone, her attitude. I could tell Mitch made that comment with a tinge of annoyance, and a minute earlier I had been pestering her about spending too much time away. Yet, she managed to focus on her own excitement and joy and not let any of the two men affect her mood. 

I had no choice but to let her go. 

Mitch shook my hand and pointed out at the empty coffee cup I was uninterestedly holding. I had forgotten about coffee. I wanted something else. 

“I’ll grab my things and we can go,” Lia said, ushering towards the studio at the back of the house. 

“Sure,” Mitch said, following her figure until she disappeared in the dark. “Has she been here all day?” He asked me. 

“We had work to do,” I replied, and ignored him as I put the coffee cup back in its place. 

Lia came back a moment later, all pretty and radiant. She kissed me on the cheek before leaving, squeezed my hand and gifted me a beautiful smile, and I was left standing there with two cinema tickets and a bittersweet feeling. I was happy for her; I wanted her happy, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I had always been the one to make her happy. 

[donotlookaway]

You all can download it if from here I just start reading it, it sets its focus in americans and europeans. I was jumping around and some lines are chilling. This is from Chapter 6 SECTION 1: ISRAEL’S RIGHT TO DEFEND ITSELF FROM ROCKET ATTACK "... even though Americans agree that Hamas’ control of Gaza makes Israel less secure, they still expect Israel to act with regard for the Palestinian people."

"You simply must frame this whole issue in terms of mutuality of empathy. And we mean frame it." The one I'll put next it is prefaced with this: "This next portion of language may be hard for some of you to say, but every result of research confirms that an approach like this is the best way for an Israeli spokesperson to truly be heard and therefore make a difference."... you read that all right "This next portion of language may be hard for you to say..." do you know what that language is? Here it is: "WORDS THAT WORK Our goal must be nothing short of this: for Jewish children to go to school in Israel and Palestinian children in a Palestinian nation without fear for their safety. We must achieve a peace where no parent is faced with a day-in, day-out worry about the safety of their family. We must have a mutual concern for the security of both peoples. Israel should not be bombing Gaza. I will repeat that. Israel should not be forced into a situation where they have to bomb Gaza. Likewise, Hamas should not be deliberately firing rockets into civilian areas of Israel. If the rockets stop, we can achieve that peace where Palestinian and Israeli children live in safety"

A bit more: "So, use rhetorical questions to gain permission from the audience for Israel’s actions. When presented with the facts and questions, Americans and many Europeans will come to the right conclusions."

Then it jumps to the: Israel has a RIGHT to defend itself against rocket attacks.

"When put to a choice, Americans believe by almost a three to one margin that Israel has the right to root out rockets if Hamas chooses to hide those rockets among civilian territory. However, we need to caution you against making the assumption that this excuses Israel for civilian casualties. Americans still place the burden on the Israeli military to use great care to avoid innocent deaths." They have charts with americans' answers!

So the solutions for the Americans limits are: 4"Renew your commitment to peace even in spite of continued deliberate rocket attacks." and 5"Take some time to talk about Israel’s efforts to prevent civilian casualties." it expands that last point: "So here is the five-step approach to talking about civilian casualties in Gaza: -- STEP 1 – Empathy: “All human life is precious. We understand that the loss of one innocent Palestinian life is every bit as tragic as the loss of an Israeli life.” -- STEP 2 – Admission: “We admit that Israel isn’t always successful at preventing civilian casualties…” -- STEP 3 -- Effort: “We remain committed to doing everything in our power to preventing civilian casualties.” -- STEP 4 – Examples: “Let me tell you how our armed forces are trained, tasked, and operate to ensure that Palestinian civilians remain safe.” ‐‐ STEP 5 – Turn Tables: “It is a great tragedy that Iran‐backed Hamas shoots rockets at our civilians while hiding in their own. This causes tragic deaths on BOTH sides. What would you do if you were in this situation?”

6"Have you spent time where the rocket attacks occur? If you haven’t, then you shouldn’t be fielding questions on television about this issue. Palestinian spokespersons have been very effective by saying they have been to the locations of the attacks and therefore can more accurately report on what’s really going on.

You simply must be prepared to respond to this question with “Yes, I have been there, and let me tell you how terrifying it is…”

So I guess if you were not there when attack occur then you just lie?

SECTION 2: ISRAEL’S RIGHT TO DEFENSIBLE BORDERS

1-"First, recognize and embrace the differing American perceptions between Hamas in Gaza and the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank." American perceptions people... American! Not Israeli.

2-"Americans agree that Israel “has a right to defensible borders.” But it does you no good to define exactly what those borders should be. Avoid talking about borders in terms of pre- or post-1967, because it only serves to remind Americans of Israel’s military history. Particularly on the left, this does you harm."

3-"In fact, when you talk about land in terms of 1967, you can completely flip public sentiment against you. But if you call into question the danger of terrorists shooting down planes, you shore up support." HOLY SHIT!

I'll keep reading later, this is... I don't have words, checking Chatper 8 and already I can't believe how deliverate everything is for Israel.

I love this at the end of every page "Property of The Israel Project. Not for distribution or publication. 2009." It was leaked on July 9 of 2009! [X]

[ashboy-3]

To Know Your Family Chapter 2

Summary: The bats have travelled to New York and now it's time to meet the one and only Tony Stark, their uncle.

May 9, 20XX 

Peter was chillin' in the lounge of the Stark Tower, also known as Stark Industries,  relaxing on his nice Saturday off. He already went out as Spiderman earlier that day and his dad also gave him the day off from working at SI. He completed all his homework and had no athletic decathlon to study for. It truly was a lazy day. To make everything better the Avengers even gave him the day off training. He didn’t have to go meet Ned or MJ so he choose the best option possible. He chooses to lounge on the couch all day.

The other Avengers were still around the tower, waiting for the official Avengers Compound to be built. Pepper and Tony have been making good progress on the building, making sure that everyone had everything they needed while making room for anyone else who might need a place to stay such as the guardians or Wakandians.

"Mini Boss there is a small group of people asking to see Boss," Friday’s voice interrupted Peter’s lazy Saturday. In all honesty, Peter will admit that he did give an overdramatic groan as he got up from the couch, but other than that he didn’t complain. He knows his dad won’t leave the lab for anything unless he was forced out

"Dad there's a group of people here to see you," Peter said as he put his head in the lab. Seeing Tony just wave him off, he knew that he was going to have to be the one to take care of them. They must have some kind of important pass for Friday to let them up to the penthouse, but if his dad wasn’t bothered by it, then he wouldn’t be either.

When he opened the door the last thing he expected to see was four boys, teenagers mostly, and an elderly gentleman, but he still kept his manners and was polite.

"Yo. I told Dad that there was a group who came to see him," Peter explained as he looked at the group, trying to figure out who they could possibly be. He saw the red and gold pass around the older man’s neck so Tony had to have given it to him personally, but for the life of him, Peter could not figure out who these people were.

There was a small flash of recognition at seeing the boys as if Peter should recognize them, but nothing came up

"May we come in? We can wait," the elderly gentleman man asked politely, shaking Peter out of his thoughts.

Peter, always the awkward one, didn't know how to respond, but he agreed and led them to the lounge, where he previously was lazing about, telling them to make themselves home. The boys immediately got on the couch and relaxed. The elderly man however just stood with a perfect posture, not bothered at all.

"Oh pardon my manners. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. These four are my charges, Master Richard Grayson." "Dick." "Master Jason Todd, Timothy Drake." "Tim." "and Master Damian Wayne," Alfred introduced everyone while the person would interrupt to say what they would prefer to be called.

"I'm Peter. Parker. I'm Peter Parker," he said awkwardly, "I'll go get Dad." He told Alfred as he ran off to do as he said he was going to do. Maybe he shouldn’t have left the strange group alone in the private quarters of Stark Industries, but he really needed to get his dad, and knowing him he blocked Friday from interrupting him, not that Peter blames him cause lab time is fun, but he’s needed now!

“Hey, Dad. Remember that group that wanted to see you?” Peter asked, poking his head in the lab, Friday shutting off the loud music the second Peter opened the door.

“Yeah. You turned them away right?” Tony asked, putting his blowtorch down and taking off the safety gear.

“Not exactly. They're in the lounge now. This old man had a red and gold pass and last I checked no one can get those unless you personally hand them to them,” Peter scratched his neck, seeing Tony’s eyes widen.

Peter had never seen his dad move so fast for a complete stranger. Wiping the grease off his face and running out the door, grabbing Peter’s arm as he passed him, making sure his kid didn’t get left behind.

"Alfred! How've ya been," Tony greeted the elder man, stars in his eyes, as he gave the British man a hug. Alfred got out of the hug and positioned Tony in front of him. "Master Tony. Look how much you've grown." The batboys could swear that there were tears in his eyes, although they would never mention it.

"What makes you come out of the doom and gloom that is Gotham to come here," Tony asked him, easily finding the tea set he keeps in the kitchen that’s connected just for this purpose.

"I'm afraid it is not under good circumstances. Master Tony, I am afraid to tell you that Master Bruce has died," as Alfred said this the two adults and Peter could see the four teens flinch. It didn’t stop Tony from placing a cup of tea in front of the older man, the other boy’s denying. "Master Bruce has left his four kids in your custody," Alfred informed him as he moved out of Tony's line of sight to show him the four boys Tony's face gained a surprised expression. 

Peter saw many emotions running through Tony’s mind at just the idea of taking in more kids. Peter didn’t blame him. It took Tony a long time to accept all the Avengers into his tower. There are still days when he doesn’t enjoy it. Peter had to hide from Rogers, Bucky, and Natasha for the longest time because Tony didn’t trust them and at the time they were staying in different hotel rooms.

After a beat of silence, the two drinking their tea, Tony spoke up, "Alfred I can't. I barely know what to do with Peter half the time. Pepper does all of the work. 

“Do you really think I would leave you to raise four apparently five boys by yourself? I may be old, but I am not going crazy," Alfred said with a kind smile, grabbing Tony’s hand and Peter was shocked that his dad was letting this stranger touch him. His dad! The one who refuses to have anything handed to him unless it’s by himself or Pepper.

Peter also noticed something else, something he doesn’t see in his father very often, a genuine smile. It made Peter happy. He might not know who these people are, but if his dad trusts him then so can he. The two ended up talking for a while which led to Tony having to get up and show each boy where they would be sleeping. Easily placing Alfred in a room that was close to all of them. Tony left the boys and Alfred to get settled in and at seeing Peter’s questioning glare easily led him back to the lounge where he got some hot chocolate ready for Peter.

“So who are Alfred and Bruce?” Peter finally asked after taking a few sips of his hot chocolate, waiting for Tony to sit next to him.

“Something that the public doesn’t know about me is that I am not actually Howard’s son. He never called me his son and now he never will, but that is because he isn’t my father. When I was younger I had a loving mother and father and an older brother,” Tony looked down into his coffee, hoping the memories wouldn’t hurt, but that was only wishful thinking. “When I was seven my parents were murdered. I use to live in Gotham so it’s not that surprising, but as I got older Bruce and I grew distant I guess. I tried to keep in contact with him, tried to visit him, but the longer he stayed in Gotham the less our contact grew. When I got older Howard found me, took me in, and tried to teach me everything he knew. He didn’t have an heir to his company. So he took me in. I had a big fight with Alfred about it before I left but in the end, I still left. I think I still hurt my brother and Alfred when I did that. When I was eighteen Howard died and I took over the company. Everything else became public,” Tony explained. Peter could tell that he was leaving a lot out, but that was okay, he didn’t have to tell him everything.

“Thanks for telling me Dad,” Peter hugged him.

“Thanks for listening bud. You’re not too angry I didn’t tell you?” Tony asked him.

“No, or at least I don’t think I am. I wish I would have known my uncle and my cousin’s before they showed up out of the blue, but nothing can change that,” Peter shrugged, going back to his hot chocolate.

“You are the absolute best kid I could have asked for. Want to hang out in the lab?” Tony asked, easily changing the subject.

“Absolutely! Can I-”

“No, you can not use the blowtorch”

“Damn!”

“Peter!”

“Sorry!” the spider mutant laughed, at seeing Tony’s face, which the man couldn’t hold for long as he delved into laughter.

It was around Dinner time when the rest of the residents soon discovered their five new house guests. Clint, Steve, and Natasha walked in on Tony sitting at a counter as an elderly man was cooking.

"Master Tony you really need to get a better kitchen. All of your fancy tools and this is the best you have," Alfred told him as he continued cooking.

"Sorry Alfred. Really wasn't one of the main things I was thinking about when designing this place," Tony said with a smile, happily eating his food. He almost forgot what Alfred's cooking was like.

Now for the three that wasn't the most confusing part. The confusing part was a boy with blue eyes and dark hair suddenly came down from the ceiling.

"Hey, Alfie when are we supposed to go back to Gotham? I know you said that you would figure it out but," the boy trailed off, as another boy walked in heading for the coffee machine.

"I can assure you Master Dick that we will spend some time here before heading back to the manor. Now will you please get off the roof! Master Tim touch that coffee maker and you can forget about coffee privileges for the week. I swear we leave Gotham once and it’s like you all act like wild animals," Alfred threatened.

By that time the rest, Bruce and Thor, were in the kitchen as well and were now looking at the group in confusion.

“It’s because they are animals,” a small boy of eleven rolled his eyes. Tony just couldn’t get over how much this kid really looked like Bruce.

“No one asked you demon brat,” Tim rolled his eyss.

"Um Tony," Clint asked, waiting till he got the other guy's attention. "Who are these people?”

All of the Avengers could see his eyes light up as he started to explain, "This is Alfred. He was the one who took care of and raised me as a child. These two boys are Dick and Tim. The small one over here is Damian. There's one more around here somewhere, his name is Jason and he has a white stripe in his hair. They’re my Nephew and new residents of our home," Tony spread his arms as he happily explained, a genuine smile on his face. He was not going to let any of them ruin this for him.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Dick and asked him a question, " If I may. Why were you hanging on the ceiling and why are you staying with us and not your father." Dick was only able to shrug as Alfred, the lifesaver, butted in, "Now. Let's not talk about all of that doom and gloom right now. Master Tony show me the dining room so everyone can be fed." 

One look from Tony and the man of iron knew he was in trouble. "No dining room. Honestly Master Tony you would think that I raised a rabid animal. We will have to fix that. In the meantime, Master Dick do go and fetch you Master Jason for me. Master Tim and Master Damian please place yourselves away from each other and eat your dinner without a confrontation,” Alfred ordered as he placed two plates in front of the boys. Looking at them Tony noticed instantly that the younger boy’s had no meat on his plate.

Dick gave Alfred a salute as he aced his landing and easily walked off toward the hallway to go and find his brother, preferably before he got them into trouble with Alfred.

<<< Part 1 || Part 3 >>>

[minkyumami]

Okay I rlyyyy want to post the latest chapter (5) of my spirk fic to ao3 but. It’s literally not done 😟. So instead I’m posting a little excerpt here…..

Spock sits at Jim’s desk with his hands folded, noticeably restless, while they wait for the promised transmission.

“Okay. Out with it Spock,” Jim says, peering up at him. Previously, he’d been content sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, fighting off the wave of nausea that threatens to grip him, thinking that he’d give anything to be cured of human anxiety. But now the silence from Spock disturbs him more than anything else.

“I admit that our current situation is one that I find somewhat unusual. Therefore, I highly anticipate this upcoming communication from Starfleet Command.”

Jim shakes his head a bit. “Opinion about our guests, Spock.”

Spock fidgets in his chair, not sure what the Captain wants him to say.

“Opinion on what I’ve done, Spock.”

Spock shakes his head as he responds, “I have none, sir.”

“It isn’t like you to keep your analyses to yourself.”

“It is, when I have considered it unproductive to share my thoughts…”

Illogical, he means.

“But if you insist,” Spock continues readily, “I do wish that you had consulted me before allowing Ms. Hamsa to enter your mind.”

Spock? Jealous? Jim wonders. It shouldn’t be possible. Jealousy is as offensive to a Vulcan as love.

“I believe I would have been better suited to handle the telepathic communication than yourself,” Spock says, “and I could have then shared my knowledge with you through a meld, if it needed to remain classified.”

Oh.

Jealousy isn’t ruled out then. But this is more like the much more logical concern. And maybe just a hint of Vulcan superiority.

“I got enough of that from Dr. McCoy,” Jim says. “I am the captain. I must accept the consequences of being the captain.” But the words sound hollow. Every word sounds hollow.

In an instant, Spock is on the bed, at his side, watching him closely. There’s no psychic ringing, no echoes or reflections — maybe Hamsa’s interference has disrupted whatever it is they had before. There’s just the quiet, noble presence of Spock’s outer consciousness slowly bleeding into his. Less all consuming than the resonance, but also calmer and more pleasant. “Dr. McCoy should have insisted on holding you for observation.”

Now Jim chuckles softly, trying slightly to turn on the charm, to show that he’s fine. Better than fine. “Can’t you do that yourself? You’re… better equipped than Dr. McCoy, afterall, in this regard.”

“I’m surprised that he did not insist. It is in his nature to show excess concern.”

“Well, he’s a bit distracted. Tamara, the patient, is a human clone.”

“Interesting,” Spock says in a faraway voice, invested, it seems, in a distraction of his own. He takes Jim’s arm, one hand supporting his elbow, the other firmly grasping his bare wrist — and there it is again, the burning need for closeness, opening up inside him. Spock turns Jim’s hand palm up, knowing that he understands what this is — it is the same implicit knowledge that forces us to understand what a kiss is. The meeting of lips and tongue, the implication of teeth — of incisors — so close to the skin. Organs used for the first stages of consuming organic matter, or for the last stages of converting thoughts into sound waves, can also be used for this. That’s what it’s like, the feeling of Spock’s hand guiding his. As a mouth can be intimate, so can a finger.

“…What is?” Interesting. That’s the statement he’s trying to respond to. “That Tamara is a clone?”

“Yes… Her presence should provide the Doctor with an opportunity to broaden his medical horizons.” But he says it like he doesn’t care one bit about her presence, or the Doctor’s medical horizons.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Tethered

Part III- Chapter 27: Friends Again

Mentions of: Amnesia, Arguments, Joey being a baby, Manipulation, Frank being a brat, etc.

A/N: I totally forgot to post this 😭😭 so here it is

Tags: @prettycutebunny @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup

“So, this is your place? It’s cool.” You asked as you entered the lobby of the ski lodge. “Yeah, we usually just used it as our hang out spot before The Entity took us and all. And now, we pretty much live here.”

Susie replied, sitting down on the couch beside Joey. You took a seat across from them, feeling a little apprehensive. “But you’re sure I can stay here? Your other friends aren’t going to have a problem with it?”

“Frank and Julie are out right now. By the time either one of them get back, you’ll probably be gone.” Susie reassured you.

“They do care, and they’d probably be pissed if they saw you here.” Joey remarked, making you feel even worse. Susie told him not to be a jerk, elbowing him in the side. “Sorry, just ignore him.”

“Uh- anyways, where are you guys from?“ You changed the topic to something a little more comfortable.

“We’re from a little town in Canada called Ormond. Frank’s from somewhere else in Canada, though. I’m not sure where. What about you? Where are you from?” She questioned.

“About that..I don’t really remember where I’m from. I think before I got here, I got into some sort of accident that gave me amnesia, and I’ve been having a really hard time remembering things. All I remember is my name, and a few other things.” You admitted.

“Wait, seriously? You don’t remember anything? That must suck.”

“Well I do remember some things…just not clearly. Like, when I was dancing with Jake, I had a memory and was trying to act it out. I heard it helps you remember things better.” You explained.

She smirked at you, giving you a skeptical look. “Mhm, sure.”

“You don’t have to believe me, but that’s the main reason.” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. She just narrowed her eyes at you, not saying another word.

“Anyways, you guys wanna do something?”

–

You stared at Joey, trying to figure him out. He gave you a blank look in reply. He was really hard to read. With a frown, you set your cards down on the table.

“I think you’re bluffing.” He shook his head, a small grin crossing his lips. “Pick them up.”

“Bullshit!” You exclaimed, flipping the cards over and finding that it was two sixes, just like he had claimed. You groaned in frustration, taking the small stack and adding it to your deck.

“I told you that we shouldn’t play this with him. He always cheats!” Susie remarked. Joey just laughed in response.

“It’s not my fault you guys suck. And the game is literally called ‘Cheat.’ It’s kind of the point, Suz. Not to mention I have a great poker face.” He bragged.

Susie rolled her eyes at him, before looking over at you. “You know what? I think it’s time for an alliance. Your streak needs to be put to an end, Joey.”

“No, don’t do that. It always ruins the fun.” He said. “Well it’s not fun when you’re winning all the time.” She shot back.

He got up from the table, storming off and up to his room. “Oh c’mon, Joey, don’t be like that! We were just kidding!”

She frowned at you, letting out a long sigh. “I told you we shouldn’t play it.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but got interrupted when someone walked through the door. It was Frank. His face was concealed by his mask, so you couldn’t see his expression, but he went completely still, as if he was a statue or something.

“You should g-” Susie started to say, before being interrupted by Frank. “What is she doing here?”

You could tell that things were getting tense. It seemed like Joey was right. So, before anything could escalate any further, you spoke. “I was just leaving. But you’re Frank, right? I’m _______, and I just wanted to say…thanks. I’ll get out of your hair now. Bye.”

You waved at Susie. She didn’t wave back. Then, you slipped out of the lodge, leaving, and hoping you can somehow find your way back to the campfire. You could probably just walk back the way you came..right?

–

Frank felt his heart race as he stood in place, not moving from where he first saw you. You talked to him. You smiled at him. You thanked him..There was no way you recognized him. You couldn’t have.

He snapped himself out of his daze, pulling his mask off and tossing it on the couch in frustration. “Susie, why the hell was there a survivor here? And why were you talking with her?”

“She’s my friend. She helped me and I thought it would be nice to hang out with her. What’s the big deal?” She remarked.

“The big deal is she’s not one of us. She’s not Legion. She’s not like us, and she doesn’t belong here.” He told her.

“I know she’s not a part of our group, but lately, staying around here has been pretty shitty. I mean, you and Julie are constantly fighting and things have been horrible. Is it really that wrong for me to want to make other friends?”

“How can you trust her? How do you know she’s not using you? That she’s not taking advantage of you?”

They were lies. He knew it. All he wanted was for Susie to doubt her relationship with you, and for you to stay away. Having you near was already making him feel things he shouldn’t, and he couldn’t bear it. He needed you far away from both him and his friends.

“(Y/n)’s not like that. What would she even try to take from me? If anything, I would be the one taking advantage of her.” She remarked.

“How do you know she’s not trying to get revenge and get you back for killing her?” Frank pushed.

“Because she saw me vulnerable once, and she helped me..When I first met her, I was walking around the woods and got caught in one of Trapper’s bear trap things. She could’ve hurt me more. She could’ve left me, but she didn’t. She helped me. She helped me, leaned up my wound and talked to me. She’s a kind person, and to be honest, I don’t even know why she’s here. Someone like her would never deserve this.”

Frank knew exactly what she meant. You hadn’t changed one bit. He let out a long sigh. “Just…don’t bring her around here again.”

[aeoki]

White Brim - Battle Royal: Chapter 7

Location: Forest (night) Characters: Touri, Tsukasa & Hiyori

Touri: ………!?

Tsukasa: Oh, you dodged that. You have quick reflexes, I’ll give you that. How cocky of you, Touri-kun.

Touri: O–O–O–Of course I’d dodge~! I’ll die if I get sliced with a sword!

Tsukasa: Only in terms of the Game, of course.

As Tenshouin Onii-sama explained, the weapons we’re given do not have the capacity to inflict injury – they’re just toys.

I’m skilled in using the sword, but this one is far too light so it’s throwing me off. There are also many trees here, so using a sword here is most difficult.

But nonetheless, it’s as heavy as the props we use in our performances and I hail from a Japanese military family – I have no issues using such tools.

You were thrown off balance after dodging that shot, but I shan’t miss the next.

Touri Himemiya – my sworn enemy – you are dead.

Touri: ………!

Tsukasa: (Oh? He jumped in front of Onee-sama in an instant to protect her! I see you’re not rotten down to your core, my lifelong rival, Touri-kun ♪)

(But! This is my win! I shall put an end to our long feud…!)

Hiyori: Get down, everyone! Don’t look up!

Tsukasa: ………!?

Hiyori: Well, sorry for the interruption! Ahaha, sounds like a line straight from a historical play, doesn’t it? ♪

Tsukasa: ……!? ……!?

Tomoe Onii-sama? Why!? You were supposed to be a “prey (fish)”!

Why did you shoot at me…!? “Prey (fish)” shouldn’t have weapons.

Tomoe: Ahaha! You’re brilliant and earnest – a very good child, but that’s precisely why you were too tied up by the rules!

Tsukasa: ……! So you’re saying I’m outwitted by those who break the Rules? Just like those “Crazy:B” outlaws!

And that’s exactly why we lost to them at “SS”. Is that what you’re trying to say…!?

Hiyori: Naturally, one should praise your way of life – it’s one that even the sun would be proud of! It’s not a matter of winning or losing. It’s about the good or bad!

But right now, we’re in the middle of a fun game where we destroy one another! And during such games, it’s not about good or bad – it’s about winning…!

Tsukasa: (Ugh…! Tomoe Onii-sama is quite the smooth-talker but he’s also aiming at me quite accurately!)

(What happens when a “hunter (fisherman)” gets shot?)

(Will they still be disqualified from the game? Does that mean I will be disqualified before Touri-kun…?)

(I had thought that wouldn’t be possible but I did not properly confirm the Rules regarding that!)

(Defeat once more! No, perhaps that is exactly what I’m currently lacking.)

I have learnt my lesson! Tomoe Onii-sama! I shall admit defeat here!

Hiyori: Very well! Your decisions are swift and appropriate – you’re far more suited for a nobleman than a common foot soldier ♪

Tsukasa: I was raised that way! Then, I shall excuse myself!

Hiyori: …Aha! He’s still courteous even when he’s running away ♪

Touri: H–H–Hiyori-samaaaa ☆

Thank you so much! I love you to pieces…! You came to save me, right?

Hiyori: Hehe. Not exactly.

But it’s only because Eichi-kun is doing nothing to help you.

Touri: Hey, don’t badmouth Eichi-sama like that! You’ve treated me very well, but that doesn’t mean you can get away with that, Hiyori-sama…

Hiyori: Hehe. If you truly and completely see Eichi-kun in a positive light, then you should be able to remain calm even if others badmouth him.

If you’re anxious and talking back at me, then that must mean you feel the same as I do somewhere in your heart, right? Feeling discomposed is a sign that I’ve hit the nail on the head!

Touri: ………!

Hiyori: I’m just kidding – that would be mean and not very honourable. What foul weather.

You don’t particularly take after Eichi-kun yet I can’t help but tease you. Sorry.

Touri: Ehehe… Maybe that’s why Eichi-sama can be oddly cold to Tsukasa sometimes. He must be seeing a small Hiyori-sama within Tsukasa.

Hiyori: What? Are you trying to say me and Eichi-kun are alike? I’ve said this numerous times already, but that’s the worst insult I could ever hear!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[cowboybrunch]

in my outline this scene is labeled "reckless flirting"

from chapter nine of Burden of the Reluctant Death:

I doubt that whatever bookshelf he owns has plenty of room, but I don’t doubt that he’d shuffle his own belongings around to make space for mine. Deciding not to open that particular can of worms, I instead say, “Uh uh. No, we’re not brushing past the whole mind reading thing.”

He sighs with his entire body like he actually was planning on brushing past the whole mind reading thing. “I do try not to eavesdrop. I’m dead, not immoral. And it’s not reading, not really. It’s more like… looking at the stars and finding constellations. Patterns.”

I sit facing him with my legs tucked underneath me. There’s a lightness in the crease of his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I don’t believe you.”

“Try me. Think about something. Not too hard, though. Don’t strain yourself.”

I smack his arm lightly. His answering laugh is like the glittering sun on a river, the kind of light that warms water to just the right temperature, the kind of light that makes you tilt your head back and hum a song you haven’t thought of in ages. I’d make a proper fool of myself to hear it again.

“If you want me to laugh,” he says, “I’ll laugh. You want me to dance? I’ll dance. You want me to juggle? Swallow a flaming sword? Say the word.” My tongue darts out to wet my lower lip. His eyes follow it, and his voice drops an octave, huskier than I’ve heard it. “Let me perform for you, petal.”

He must be able to hear my heart ricocheting against its cage. “I’ve only know you for a month,” I say, too breathless to be convincing. I clear my throat and try again. “You’ve been around for— how long have you been…” Alive isn’t the right word, but my hesitation doesn’t faze him.

“Three hundred years,” he answers casually, flicking his gaze back up to meet mine and offering a cool, familiar smile— not the one I crave, but part of the mask. “Give or take a decade. I lost count for a while.”

“Three hundred—! Okay, don’t think we’re not going to talk about that later because we absolutely are, but,” I inhale sharply, “my point is, a month to you is nothing. A drop in the bucket. You shouldn’t say such outlandish things.”

“Outlandish?”

“You know what I mean. The things you’ve seen, the people you’ve met…” I shake my head. “A month is nothing.”

He runs a thumb over his chin and makes the low sound deep in his chest, almost a groan, that means something heinous is about to come out of his damn mouth. Something like, “I would suffer through three centuries of silence so long as I could hear my name from your lips at the end of it."

The words hit me in a way that is wholly irrational and despicably thrilling. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

He leans towards me. A strand of hair falls into his eyes. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. “Do I frighten you, Rosalie?”

This is not a conversation we should be having, not with his face this close to mine, not in the middle of the night, and definitely not with Henry sleeping a room away. Still, I can’t bring myself to pull away, to widen the distance, to take my eyes off of his. “Not in the way you should,” I admit.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, now tinged pink. He exhales slowly and pulls back. “Right. This is not why I came here. You’re very distracting.”

[sixpennydame]

North Star✶Chapter 5

A Levi Ackerman x oc slow burn

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

Read in AO3

You and Levi travel to Fort Salta, where you hope to find some answers, and maybe some peace.

A/N: A huge thank you goes to my bestie, @youre-ackermine who created a mood board of Fort Salta for me and helped me to imagine that world after The Rumbling. ilysm!! &lt;3

After that confrontation, things were not the same between you two. You were still cordial and would visit the stables to ride with Levi from time to time, but now you were cold and distant. Levi told himself he shouldn’t be bothered by it.

But he was.

He cannot for the life of him figure out what made you so upset about that night. He hadn’t said or done anything to make you angry, that he can recall. And he’s thought about the night several times since it happened. Probably thought about you too much, if he’s being honest with himself.

Because as much as he hates to admit it, he’s grown fond of your company. You’d become a part of his new life, and had even called him a friend; in fact, you were the first friend he’d made in the last three years. 

Shit, Levi thought to himself, in a few days, it’ll be three years since The Rumbling and the Battle of Heaven and Earth. The day your husband died and you had a miscarriage. He’d tried to put such anniversaries for those he’d lost out of his mind long ago - there were too many for him to remember now; but he can imagine how painful this must be for you.

That evening as he’s walking to his room after dinner, he looks across the hall and sees you packing a suitcase.

“Going somewhere?”

You look up to see Levi leaning against the doorframe of your room. “I’m going to Fort Salta. I’ll be gone for a few days, but I’m sure you all can fend for yourself while I’m away.” 

Levi watches as you take clothes from your chest of drawers and put them in your suitcase, then his eyes wander to a shelf next to your bed. On the shelf is a picture of you and Martin, he assumes from your wedding day as you’re wearing a white dress and veil and Martin is in his dress uniform. Next to the picture is a tiny pair of baby booties, along with a small vase of flowers and a candle burning. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t noticed it when he’d brought you to your bed during your drunken state. He guesses he’d just been too focused on you at that moment.

You notice Levi looking at your altar for Martin and the baby. “It’ll be three years this week. I need to go and..” you waver for a moment, not knowing how much to tell him, “say goodbye.”

There’s silence between the two of you, only the sound of your footsteps on the wood floor as you walk to and from the chest to your bed. 

“I’m going with you,” Levi finally says.

You look up, surprised. “What? Why? I’m a grown woman, Levi. I don’t need a chaperone. It’s just a one-day train ride and I’m perfectly capable of going myself.”

“I have my own reasons for going there.”

“And those would be?”

He hasn’t told you yet that he was there at Fort Salta that fateful day. That he was the one beside you when you discovered your world had fallen apart. 

That he’s an Eldian from Paradis.

He’s thought many times of telling you, but is unsure of how you’ll react. It was his people who brought all this pain and destruction into the world. Even though he and the others were actively fighting against Eren, he wonders if you’ll see it that way.

Silence again fills the room and you sigh. “You know, Levi, you’ve barely told me anything about yourself since you got here. All I know is that you were once a soldier. I know nothing about where you’re from, if you have any family, or why you’re here in Mursa. I really thought you and I were becoming friends -” 

You stop. You think about the days you and Levi spent together. When you put your hand on his and thanked him for being your friend. When you would ramble on and on about your life during those late autumn afternoon rides. You thought you were starting to understand him; even more dangerous, you were beginning to care for him.

But you realize that in the months he’s been here he’s said very little about himself. How can you care for someone you barely know?

“You know what, forget it. Your life is none of my business.”

You walk over to him and he straightens his posture. Then you grab the doorknob and slowly start closing the door, pushing him into the hallway.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish packing.”

A few seconds pass, and then you hear Levi’s footsteps as he walks into his room and closes the door.

——- ✶ ——-

That night, you have a dream about Martin and the baby. You are in a large park on a beautiful, sunny spring day. In the distance, you see Martin holding your child and you wave to him; he sees you and begins to wave enthusiastically as he takes your child’s hand and waves it as well. You start walking towards them when suddenly, there’s a fog that spreads all over the park. It’s hard to breathe and you realize it’s not fog - it’s steam. The earth begins to shake and you run faster towards Martin, but no matter how fast you run, you can’t seem to reach him. You can hear him calling out to you and soon his screams are muffled by the rumbling of a thousand giant footsteps. You yell out to Martin, the steam becoming thicker and thicker, until you are no longer able to see them. You feel like you are drowning and so you claw through the steam, hoping to feel anybody - anything that can help you. 

“Catherine, LIVE.”

You wake up in a cold sweat. You’ve been having these dreams more and more the closer it gets to three years. You wonder if it’s Martin trying to communicate with you. Perhaps he’s getting ready to move on.

You look over at the picture of you and Martin. “Why won’t you talk to me, Martin? I need you…where are you?”

Unable to sleep, you decide to go to the kitchen and make some tea to calm your nerves. As you sit down with your mug of chamomile tea, you hear footsteps coming toward the kitchen.

You’re not surprised when you see Levi pass through the doorway. You often hear him late at night doing the same thing you are doing right now. You gesture to the tea kettle.

“The water’s still hot.”

Levi takes the kettle and pours the hot water over the dried chamomile flowers. Then he sits at the table across from you. 

You break the silence first. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Yeah..another habit I can’t seem to break, but at this point in my life, I guess it’s meaningless to try.” He takes the tea strainer out of his mug and places it on the table.

You stare down at your tea, not knowing what to say. You feel bad that you basically slammed your door in his face earlier, but his silence makes you so frustrated. Even now, there’s a dozen questions you want to ask him, but you know it’s pointless.

Levi takes a sip of his tea then places the mug down. He shifts a bit in his chair and clears his throat. “Look, Catherine, it’s not easy for me to talk about my past. Honestly, it’s something I want to forget. That’s why I came here,” he looks at you, “But you have been a good friend to me these few months, and you deserve to know more.”

“Levi, you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable talking abou~”

He puts up a hand. “No..Catherine..I want to, because you’re a part of the story.”

At this, your ears perk up. “What do you mean?”

Levi takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “I was there, at the Battle of Heaven and Earth.”

“So.. you were part of the remnant of Marleyan soldiers who survived that horrible day.”

He shakes his head. “No, not quite,” he pauses, gathering his thoughts, “I’m from Paradis, Catherine. I knew Eren Yeager. In fact, I was his superior officer when he was serving for a branch of our military called the Survey Corps. I was a Captain.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You knew Levi was different, but this is not what you were expecting. 

“That day, the last remnants of the Survey Corps banded together with the Marleyan Warriors in order to bring down Zeke and Eren Yeager. It’s a long story, but you know how it ends - the whole world does.” He looks down. “In the process, my knee was badly injured and I ended up in the infirmary that was set up in the hangar bay at Fort Salta…” he pauses, “where I met you.”

You sit there, dumbfounded. How did you not notice before? “You were the bandaged man in the bed next to mine..” you say, a million thoughts running through your head. “And you’ve known this whole time? You recognized me?”

“I knew you instantly. You haven’t changed much.”

“Why? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I guess…I didn’t want to bring up any painful memories for you. That, and I didn’t want anyone to know about my past. But you deserve the truth.”

“Paradis.” You’ve never met anyone from there before. You’d heard rumors that they were ruthless, unfeeling savages. “Why did you not return there after the war was over?”

Levi looks down. “Because there’s nothing left for me there. All my friends and comrades are dead and I’m left to carry on their memory. But sometimes I…” Levi looks at you.

“You feel guilty that you’re still alive.”

Your words shine a light on something Levi has never wanted to admit, but when he hears it come from your mouth, he knows it’s true. He’s not used to acknowledging or talking about this part of himself - it makes him feel weak and vulnerable, so he becomes silent once again.

You nod your head. You know that feeling all too well. 

“When someone dies, we Mursians believe that they don’t immediately leave our world. Their spirits live on in this space between worlds; they watch over us and guide us. We set up altars in our homes and this is where we can communicate with them.”

Levi remembers the shelf in your room with Martin’s picture. 

“On the third year of their death, the spirit is prepared to pass to the next world, and you are ready to let them go. That’s the idea, anyway. You’ve had ample time to process their absence, and they’ve given you instruction on how to carry on with your life.”

You look at Levi, your eyes glassy. “But in the years since Martin passed, I’ve not heard from him once. Not felt his presence. Nothing.” A single tear falls down your cheek. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s stuck in some other world because I’ve done something wrong?”

“That’s why I need to go back to Fort Salta. I need to communicate with Martin before the bridge to the next world opens. I need to know he’s ok….that my child is ok..before they’re both gone forever.”

Levi thinks about his final battle and seeing his comrades' faces. So much of what you’re feeling resonates with his own emptiness. 

“I know you were against it earlier, Catherine, but I’d like to go with you to Fort Salta. I have my own questions that I’d like to get answered, and maybe going back to that place will help.”

You think for a moment. You suppose it wouldn’t be all that bad for Levi to join. You’re just two people who happen to be going to the same destination. And from the looks of him, it seems like he needs this closure as much as you do.

“Alright. The train leaves from the station at 6:00 AM. We’ll leave here at 5:40”

You both drink your tea in silence until you decide to go back to your room.

——- ✶ ——-

The next morning, you meet Levi and the others in the foyer. 

“Don’t worry, Catherine, we’ll take care of the place and the animals while you’re away,” Luka assures.

“Yeah, I promise we won’t burn the place down in those three days,” Max teases as he comes down the stairs to see you off. 

While you talk to Luka, Max walks over to Levi. “You lucky bastard..you keep getting all these opportunities to be with Catherine.” 

“We’re just friends. Nothing romantic is going on.”

“Not right now, but when the three years of mourning is over, she’ll be free to love someone else,” Lars glares, “not that it’s gonna be you or anything.”

“Like I said, just friends,” Levi replies, but he wonders if you’re even that anymore.

You pick up your suitcase. “We’re off. See you in three days.”

Mathieu offered to take you both to the train station, which is on the opposite side of town. He was waiting in his wagon when you walked outside. 

The mornings were cold now and frost was forming on the remaining flowers in the garden. Winter is beginning to creep into the valley and you can feel that snow will be making its entrance soon. The way Levi is already bristling at the cold, blowing his hot breath into his cupped hands, you can tell that this is not his favorite weather.

Mathieu notices as well. “I reckon it’ll be a lot warmer in Fort Salta. It’s amazing what being just a little more southwest will do.”

Mathieu drops you off in front of the station building. It’s small, but the red brick building gleams in the dawn light. Inside, there are wooden benches and a few travelers sitting and waiting for the early morning train. You and  Levi buy your tickets then go to the platform to wait.

Your breath is visible as you take a long sigh. “This is the first time I’ve been on a train since that day, three years ago. I haven’t even been outside of Mursa since I left the fort,” you look at Levi, “what’s the outside world like now?”

Levi looks away, as if in thought. “It’s still a mess, and it’ll probably be that way for a while. But things are slowly being rebuilt - cities, bridges, roads. It all takes time after such a tragedy.”

“And Paradis..do you ever want to go back?”

“No,” his answer comes quickly, “it’s not the same place I knew.” 

The train slowly arrives at the platform, steam releasing from its engine. Levi grabs your suitcase and his duffle bag as you both get on the train. Most of the cars are already full, and you have to find seats separate from each other. It’s for the best, you think. The purpose of this trip isn’t to get closer to Levi, although him finally telling you a little about his past was a welcome bit of information. To think: he was the one telling you to eat when you were in so much pain, the one who told you to keep pushing forward. You smile as you think about what a coincidence it is that he would come to your town, to your home, out of all the places in the world. News scarcely made its way into Mursa these past few years, so you didn’t know anything about Paradis or the “Survey Corps”, as Levi called it. He said he was a captain. You wonder how long he’d been fighting, or how he felt now that the war was over. 

No, stop thinking about him, you say to yourself. This time is for Martin, and preparing for the end of your mourning period. But what does that even mean anyway…the end of mourning. As if three years go by and you don’t miss them anymore. As if that emptiness in your heart just magically goes away. It used to infuriate you, when people would ask you how you were doing. It was impossible to describe the pain you felt at having lost a husband and child, so you’d only reply with a general, “I’m getting better everyday.” Besides, it wasn’t like they really wanted to know how you were - it was just politeness. 

Now, nobody even mentions Martin. It’s as if he never existed to anyone else but you. Will he disappear from your mind and heart as well one day? That terrifies you.

Amid your troubling thoughts, you eventually fall into a deep sleep for the next few hours, not even waking up when the train pauses for each stop and passengers get on and off. When you wake up, you see Levi sitting next to you.

You rub your eyes and massage your neck. “When did you move over here?”

“A couple hours ago. You were sleeping hard. It was like you were dead to the world,” he sees you wince, “Sorry - that was a shitty choice of words.”

You look up and then out the window. “It’s fine,” you want to change the subject. “I’m starving. Did I miss the food cart?”

“You did, but I grabbed something for you,” Levi takes out a small loaf of bread and some slices of ham from a paper bag under his seat. “It’s not very good, but it should tide you over until we reach the city.

You take the food from Levi and smile. As crude and awkward as Levi could be, he was also incredibly thoughtful. You’d known this about him for a while, yet it never ceased to surprise you.

The few hours left in the journey were spent mostly in silence. You didn’t feel like talking and Levi wasn’t really the type of person to start or carry a conversation. The train finally arrived in Salta late in the evening.

You were surprised at what you saw when you left the station. The area around Fort Salta was becoming a growing city, named after the fort. In the vastness of the arid desert, there were now brick buildings and paved streets, even electric street lights. A few military trucks drove by, their exhaust making you cough.

“Is this what the rest of the world looks like now?” You ask, not really talking to Levi, just expressing your surprise.

“Not everywhere, but places funded and supported by the Marley military have grown particularly fast. There’s not many other organizations that can handle such huge building projects, and I think people feel safer right now being close to forts and military bases like this. It’s what I was involved with before I moved to Mursa.”

Even in the darkness of the evening, you could see Fort Salta, looming in the distance. Going there will be tomorrow’s goal. “We should probably find somewhere to sleep for the night, then head to the fort in the morning,” Levi says as he grabs both of your bags. “It looks like there’s a hotel just down the street.”

You enter the hotel and both walk up to the front desk. Because it’s so late, the lobby area is quiet, with only one man working.

“I’m sorry, but with the aviation academy graduation this week, most hotels are completely booked. I only have one room available right now with one bed,” the man at the desk informs.

Levi picks up the luggage. “Then we’ll just go somewhere else~”

You put a hand on Levi’s arm. “It’s fine. It’s just two nights and I’m exhausted. I don’t want to walk all around town trying to find someone who can accommodate us.”

Levi pauses for a moment, thinking about your words. He’s exhausted too. “Fine..we’ll take it then.”

You both get into the elevator and the busboy turns the crank for it to go up. It starts with a jolt, and it makes you grab onto the railing that runs along the elevator walls. 

“People don’t use stairs anymore?” You joke to hide your nervousness.

Your room is on the fourth floor of the building. You turn the key and both step inside to find a cozy space with a washing area and bed big enough for both of you to sleep in. You both stare at it awkwardly.

Levi grabs a pillow and the throw blanket draped over the foot of the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, no - you paid for half of this room, you shouldn’t have to sleep on the ground,” you protest.

“It’s fine, really. I’m used to it.”

You look at him, feeling guilty. “Well at least take the quilt too. I can manage with a top sheet.” You hand him the heavy quilt.

He hesitates at first, then decides to take it. “Thanks,” he says, as he lays the quilt down on the floor, his back facing you and the bed. “Goodnight.”

“…goodnight.” 

You wait a few moments, and when it doesn’t seem that Levi is going to move, you start to unbutton your blouse and take off your skirt. In only your silk slip, you unclip your hosiery from the garter straps, roll them off your legs, then slip under the covers. 

It’s hard for you to go to sleep at first, but when you hear Levi’s steady, heavy breathing, you eventually nod off.

——- ✶ ——-

When you wake the next morning, Levi is already up. He’s changed into a new shirt and is washing his face in the washbasin. You sit up from bed, then quickly realize you’re only in your slip, so you pull the sheets up higher. 

“Good morning,” you say with a slight blush.

Levi pretends that he didn’t see you in your undergarments just now in the mirror, and he grabs a towel to dry his face. “‘Morning,” he says as he takes his suspenders that are hanging down off his pants and pulls them up over his shoulders. “I’ll go downstairs and ask about places to eat breakfast so you can get ready.” He doesn’t make eye contact with you as he opens the door to leave. 

You now know why this room was the only one left, as it doesn’t have a private washroom and toilet. You make a note to see if Salta has a public bathhouse so you can have a proper washing up later. You know you’ll need it after visiting the fort.

For now, a clean dress will suffice, so you take one from your luggage, wash your face, and pin up your hair before finally putting on your hat. You meet Levi downstairs.

“That was faster than I thought it would take,” he remarks, “but your eyes look tired.”

You put your hand up to your cheek. Your mind instantly interprets his words as you looking terrible, even if that wasn’t Levi’s intention. “Well..I had some trouble sleeping. But it’s not like I’m going to a beauty pageant,” you reply curtly. “Let’s go eat breakfast,” you say as you look quickly into a mirror before you’re both out the door. 

Levi can tell he said something to offend you. He knows he can be blunt and often says what’s on his mind without thinking about how that might affect someone. 

Or maybe he’s overthinking it. He’s been doing more of that when he interacts with you - wondering if he said the right thing or how you’ll react. He’s beginning to realize that how you feel matters to him. 

After you both eat breakfast at a small cafe, you start walking toward the train station again. The fort is built on a gigantic mesa and is only accessible by a train, which winds around the landform. You tell Levi it’s not exactly the fort that you want to go to, but the field nearby where The Rumbling took place. 

“I’m fairly sure that the field is now fenced in to deter curious travelers. We’ll have to go to the fort first and ask permission. I think I’ll be able to make that work.”

The heavily armored train speeds through the desert landscape, and you marvel at the juxtaposition of rebirth and destruction. Evidence of industry and rebuilding in the city slowly changes the closer you get to Fort Salta. As it goes higher, you get a better view of where thousands of titans marched across the landscape. It’s still flat and desolate, but there are signs of life returning. Prairie grasses and sage brush mingle among the footprints. 

You feel yourself getting nervous the closer you get to the fort. So many memories start rushing back from that terrible day.

The train comes to a halt once it arrives at the top of the mesa. There are soldiers guarding the main gate, but Levi seems to have no problem walking up to them.

“We need access to the battlefield below the mesa. It’s for research purposes.”

The two young men look at you and Levi with serious faces. “I’m sorry, but that field is for authorized access only.”

Levi becomes serious and authoritative. “I’m Levi Ackerman, and I have that authorization.”

The two guards look at each other. “Levi Ackerman?” One of them says. They both stand up a little straighter. “Yes, sir. We just need to make a call,” the other replies as he goes to a telephone in the guard station.

You look at Levi, confused. “How do they know you?”

One of the guards hears you and speaks up. “Ma’am, everyone knows Levi Ackerman. He’s one of the heroes of the Battle of Heaven and Earth.” He salutes Levi. “It’s an honor to actually meet you, sir.”

“Tch, you don’t have to salute me. Just…get me the access.”

The guard at the telephone nods, and the other opens the large, iron gate. 

“Welcome back to Fort Salta, Captain Levi.”

Levi clicks his tongue as he passes by the guard on the phone. “Base Commander Ross would like to see you, Captain.”

“I’m not a Cap~, never mind,” he sighs, “where is his office?”

You remember walking through these very gates when you were looking for Martin, but not much else is recognizable. As you and Levi walk through the fort you see the hangar bays for the airships and you stop. This was the last place you saw Martin alive.

“Hey, you ok?”

Levi’s question breaks you out of your train of thought. “Yeah…I’m just ready to get to the battlefield.

“There’s a gondola that’ll take you down there. I’ll take you to it, then meet you after I speak with Base Commander Ross. We can meet over there” Levi says, as he points to a large rock formation.” 

You nod, and he takes you to the gondola. “Do you have enough water? It can get hot here in the afternoon.”

You reach into your bag. “Yes, I think so.” You’d be more touched by the concern Levi has had for you today if your mind wasn’t buzzing with other thoughts. “I’ll see you later, then,” is all you can think to say as you enter the metal pod.

Once he sees you make it to ground level safely, Levi walks to the administrative building and up to the second floor to Commander Ross’ office.

“Levi Ackerman. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Base Commander Ross says, giving Levi a firm handshake then inviting him into his office.

“Yeah, well, that was the plan.”

“And what brings you out here? The guards said you’re doing research?”

“My companion is the widow of a pilot who died during the Battle of Heaven and Earth. She wanted to go to the battlefield, so I figured I could pull some strings for her.”

“I see. Of course it’s no problem,” Ross sits down at his desk. “You’re certainly a long way from Lira. Your comrades were quite surprised with your sudden disappearance.”

“And I’d rather they not know I’m here today.” Levi becomes contemplative. “How are the brats? They still planning to go to Paradis?”

“Kirstein, Springer, and Arlert? They are, along with Braun, Finger, and Leonhart. The peace talks are planned for the beginning of the new year.”

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Levi says as he sits down. His knee is starting to throb.

“Who the hell knows, Levi. But Arlert seems convinced that their visit could make a difference, and the top brass seem to have faith in him.” 

Levi's thoughts flash to Shiganshina, when he had to make the choice between saving Erwin or Armin. “I’d say the whole world can put their trust in Armin. In all of them. But it’s Paradis’ rapid militarization I’m worried about.”

“It’s what we’re all worried about. Because if a world war happens with Paradis, then what the hell was the point of saving this world in the first place?”

Levi spends the rest of the afternoon talking with Ross and getting updates on current military issues and the rebuilding efforts. Even though the last few months had given him more peace than he’d felt ever in his life, the worries of the state of the world were never far from his thoughts. Ross’ words still echoed in his mind as he rode the gondola down to the battlefield, because it was the same question he frequently asked himself:

If the world goes to war with Paradis, then were all his sacrifices, all the deaths of his comrades, for nothing?

He looks out over the field, which spreads well past the horizon. You don’t yet seem to be anywhere in the vicinity, so you’re probably still trying to communicate with Martin. To be able to talk to those you’ve lost the first three years after their death; he doesn’t know if there’s really any truth behind it, but what if…

What if they really could hear him?

Levi sits down on a rock formation, massaging his knee. “Hange... It was worth it, right? This world that you dedicated your heart and sacrificed your life for.”

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but it looks like the world’s leaning toward war again. I’m so tired of fighting…not that I can fight anymore, anyway.”

Your face comes to his mind, as it often does. “I’ve found..a great place to live. It’s peaceful,” he pauses, “but I don’t know if I deserve that kind of peace. I don’t even know how to live a simple life.”

“Anyway, if there is something after all this, I hope that I see you, Erwin, and the others there.”

It’s such a small thing, saying the words Levi feels in his heart out loud, and it gives him a contentment he wasn’t expecting. He hopes you’re also finding what you’re looking for, here in this desolate place.

——- ✶ ——-

The field is vast and empty and only the sound of the breeze can be heard as it moves over the flat land. For a while, you walk aimlessly, trying to imagine Martin’s final moments. Did he even realize what was happening? Was it fast and painless? 

You close your eyes and remember your own final moments with him, when he held you close and told you to keep living. You can almost feel his arms around you.

“Martin..are you here?” you ask out loud. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

You sit in a crevice made by one of the titan’s footsteps. “You were my best friend, my companion. Without you here, I don’t know what to do with my life. I feel so…empty. You’re supposed to guide me, but I feel lost. What’s my purpose without my family?”

Your frustration grows. “I thought that if I came here, to your final place in this world, that maybe I would find you here, still wandering. Are you here?”

There’s only silence as you sit there and wait - for what, you’re not sure. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This can’t be how it ends,” you think to yourself, desperate to hear anything, feel anything from Martin. But still, nothing.

The discouragement and pain that’s been building up for the last three years is suddenly released as you stand and scream into the void. You’ve stayed strong for so long, but you just can’t do it anymore. You put your face in your hands and sob. “Why did you leave me? I don’t want to be alone…” 

You clutch your heart as your sobs turn into deep gasps for breath. The pain you feel is the same as you felt that day when the doctor told you that Martin and the baby were dead; as if your heart is physically breaking. Slowly, you regain control over your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you say, in the softest whisper, “I’m not strong enough.”

 As you’re getting ready to leave and go find Levi, a young hawk flies overhead and lands on a dead branch. He’s so close, you can see the details on his beautiful brown and black feathers. He looks at you, his head cocked to the side, as if he’s trying to figure you out.

You hear a voice from inside your head, but it’s not yours: “Catherine, LIVE.”

In the old traditions, hawks were seen as messengers to and from the spirit worlds. Perhaps this is the sign you’ve been waiting for; the chance to communicate with Martin on the other side. He doesn’t move as you cautiously walk towards him and soon you’re only a few feet from him.

“You’ll give Martin a message for me, won’t you?” You step a bit closer, unafraid. “Tell him I love him - that I’m never going to stop loving him. I’ll be there when the bridge opens and it’s time for him to cross over, and I’ll keep his memory alive in this world. I want to be strong for him.”

As if on cue, the hawk screeches and then flies away, into the horizon.

——- ✶ ——-

It’s late in the afternoon when you start walking back. By the time you finally find Levi, the sun has set in the horizon and the yellows, pinks, and oranges in the sky turn to blues and purples.

“Did you get what you were searching for?” Levi asks.

“I think so. It’s a start anyway,” you look at him. “How about you? Did you get those questions you had answered?”

Levi takes off his hat and runs his hand through his hair. “I guess..I don’t know. My belief in death and the afterlife is very different from yours,” he says, looking out into the distance. “But yeah…I’m trying to make peace with it all.”

“Me too.” You look up as the crescent moon becomes visible in the sky. “Do you see that bright star, just to the right of the moon?” you point, “that’s the North Star. Martin’s father told me that it never changes its position in the sky and sailors and mariners used it as a beacon to guide them home. He said that if I were to ever get lost, I should look for it in the night sky. He’d say, ‘A traveler can always rely on it to help them find their way.’”

“Martin was my North Star. He gave me direction and meaning to my life. Now that he’s gone…I feel like I’m floating in the sea without knowing the direction home,” you stifle a laugh, “hell, I don’t even know where home is anymore.”

Levi looks up at the North Star, his mind returning to memories and faces long buried. “I had someone like that in my life once too. A person who gave me purpose. He’s gone now, like so many others.”

You both stand in the field silently for a while. A breeze begins to blow and you shiver with the drop in temperature. Levi takes off his jacket and hands it to you. You thank him as you drape it over your shoulders.

“Do you think the world will ever fully recover from all this?” You ask.

“It will. Humanity is resilient. But the world will be forever changed, in some aspect or another.”

 You swallow hard to hold back tears. “Do you think I will ever recover from all this? Or am I forever changed too?”

“Recovery doesn’t mean you forget those you’ve lost. They’re still a part of you, in one way or another.” He changes his tone. “And I hate to break it to you, but it’s still going to hurt, even after three years.”

Shit, he did it again. Why does he sound like such an asshole sometimes?

“I know. Sometimes..I don’t want it to stop hurting. Because that will mean I’m forgetting, won’t it?”

Levi has asked himself this question countless times. “Or maybe, it means you’re healing.”

You both look at each other, then realizing that it’s getting late, you rush to catch the last train back to Salta.

——- ✶ ——-

Arriving back in town, you and Levi make a quick stop to a bathhouse before returning to your hotel room. Levi once again takes a pillow and blankets, says a quick goodnight, and lies on the floor beside you. Getting into the bed, you look up at the ceiling. You’re glad Levi came with you and that you weren’t alone through all this. Maybe you can just be friends with Levi after all. Eventually, your eyelids become heavy and you soon drift off to sleep.

You’re up early the next morning to catch the first train to Mursa. This time, you welcome having Levi sit next to you. You wonder if after this experience, he’ll be more open with you.

“You said you had someone in your life who’d given you purpose. What were they like?” you decide to be brave and ask.

Levi looks at you and you expect to get the usual silent treatment, but his eyes become soft and contemplative. “His name was Erwin Smith, and he was the Commander of the Survey Corps.”

The next few hours, Levi tells you all about his time in the Survey Corps: how he met Erwin, his experience fighting titans, and stories about his comrades. You listen, enthralled. Finally, finally, you’re able to understand why Levi is the way that he is. He’s been through so much. 

“I’ve spent my whole life fighting, in one way or another. I’ve been put in countless impossible situations and laid my life on the line more than I can count, but I’m still here,” he looks out the window. “I need to know why I’m still here.”

You see Levi with different eyes; not merely a stoic, mysterious soldier, but a deeply wounded man just trying to find his way in the world. His North Star. Just like you.

You place a hand on his arm and offer a warm smile. “Like you told me three years ago, we just gotta keep pushing forward.” 

 A few more hours in, your head begins to bob forward as you fall asleep. It keeps jostling you awake, but eventually, your exhaustion sets in and your head falls to the side, gently landing on Levi’s shoulder. 

Levi almost wakes you up so you’ll move, but decides to allow you a few moments of peace. He watches as your chest slowly rises and falls, before he’s lulled to sleep by your steady, heavy breathing and the sounds of the train.

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