#so it’s also just sincere curiosity over whether anyone’s looked into this

[gloamses]

you know, there are plenty of kids getting dental veneers. I’m trying to look up studies on the regret rate of dental veneers, for anybody, whether adults or minors, and if they exist it’s impossible to find them because the marketing around cosmetic dentistry is so aggressive. they may not exist at all, idk. but there are huge numbers of anecdotal accounts of people experiencing terrible regret over veneers. are there studies on this? veneers are permanent. I mean, not exactly, you pay thousands to get them and then they wear down in 10-15 years whereupon you have to pay thousands to replace them again. but you can’t un-get veneers. you can’t undo filing your teeth down to get them put in. things going wrong with your teeth is a quality of life disaster, vastly under-acknowledged in healthcare and especially US healthcare, so if you regret your veneers and you’re stuck with them, you could be really miserable. yet, again, the marketing is aggressive and I know people who have had dentists recommend they get veneers for things like minor staining. weirdly no widespread moral panic or attempts at legislation over this

[saintsenara]

12, 14, 16, and 22 for Snape asks please

I am most interested in your view of Lily as a character. To me, she never really seemed to live up to the hype I see? Like, I get the point that she's supposed to be Harry's mother and is supposed to be seen as the one who can't do any harm because of the sacrifice and all that. But I don't know whether JK purposely or intentionally put, like, the worst flashbacks to portray her as angelic(?). If I remember correctly, she wasn't even talked about as much as James by Remus or Sirius, they had to add things about her in the movies.

I can't ever see Lily as a good friend to Severus. To others, maybe, but I feel like it was different with Severus. More like a complicated one that was give-and-take, including Severus. Severus, an abused poor boy from Cokeworth, who knew about the wizarding world and Lily, a girl brought up in a happy family, who knew nothing about the wizarding world. Severus was able to get a friend while Lily gained knowledge of the wizarding world. But the one thing that cements this view of mine is the line where it says that Lily looks as if she was about to smile when Severus was being flipped over. Plus, I don't care if anyone says that she tried to defend him, but girl couldn't even use her wand or take points off as Prefect?? Girl was literally making a show, or whatever you want to call it.

Sorry about the rant, but I'm all for a good friend Lily in fics but when people say she was like that in canon? Maybe at times, but not when it mattered. I'd love to hear your opinion though.

thank you for the ask, @be-at-peace05!

[snape ask game here]

12. if you had to choose a golden trio era student to be snape's friend, who would it be and why?

while i don’t subscribe to the idea that he’s his godson, snape’s affection for draco malfoy does seem to be completely sincere. malfoy is also possessed of the sort of intellectual curiosity which snape obviously values (for example, how he figures out how to repair the vanishing cabinet - it’s genuinely impressive, and the fact that this is what he might be doing is certainly something which doesn’t occur to anyone in the order) and, while there’s no doubt that snape probably has as little interest in hearing him whine about everything as lucius does, i can see them having some genuinely fulfilling chats about potions. after all, malfoy gets an outstanding at owl, he must be good at the subject and he does seem to be interested in it.

14. what do you think is snape's favourite potion to prepare?

veritaserum. you just know he was chuckling to himself the whole time he was whipping that fake batch up for umbridge.

16. were you ever a snater? how and when did you become a snover?

i’m also extremely theatrical and fond of chemistry, so snape was always my boy.

i’m also capable of understanding the genre conventions which govern children’s literature and which require him to act as he does, so even when he was being a cock to various children we were chill.

22. do you think that lily was a good friend to snape?

well… this is the big one.

and the answer is no - but.

i always think it’s worth, before discussing lily, doing some quick acknowledgement of her narrative role in the story, which is a major contributing factor to why she feels a bit of a flop in person compared to the way she’s built up by other characters.

lily’s characterisation in canon is primarily hamstrung by two things. the first, as you note, is that her sacrificial role within the story requires a certain degree of perfection - not least because the harry potter series borrows heavily from the genre conventions of christian literature. lily is the analogy for the virgin mary - as we see when her purity of spirit succeeds in inflicting the first defeat on the satan-coded voldemort which will then be fulfilled by harry-as-the-resurrected-christ in the final stages of deathly hallows. obviously, a marian symbol is denied the complexity of other women - and that’s without even getting into the fact that the series has an extremely limited view of what ‘good’ motherhood is.

the second issue is that the text needs to keep lily’s centrality to the mystery hidden for as long as possible, not least because it needs to obscure snape’s true loyalties - and the role lily played in triggering them - until the very end of the seven-book series. this is the reason why sirius and lupin only speak about her once (after harry sees snape’s worst memory - and, even then, they’re mostly talking about james) and why harry’s self-conception is rooted entirely in his father - or in characters like sirius who are stand-ins for james - until half-blood prince, when the narrative begins to suggest that his mother is much more important than harry has previously given her credit for.

[the best way to illustrate this is to note that harry doesn’t give a shit in order of the phoenix that snape calls his mother a mudblood. his primary concern is that his father was a bully and that sirius aided and abetted him - when he thinks about lily, his concern is only that she doesn’t seem to like james, and his worry that his father forced her into a relationship. he doesn’t raise the fact that snape called lily a mudblood with sirius and lupin, and he doesn’t mention it to anyone else. but he cares - viscerally - about the slur at the end of half-blood prince, once the narrative is explicitly trying to convince the reader that snape is an unambiguous villain.]

these narrative necessities are a heavy burden for the canonical lily - and so i think she deserves some grace when it comes to how we analyse her behaviour in the snapshots of her as a real person we get in canon.

because of course she’s not perfect. why should she be? teenage girls are allowed to be less than flawless people - even towards their best friends.

[as an aside here, i think we have to be very careful - in our reading and our writing - not to replicate the contempt that jkr has for women who don’t fit her narrow view of ideal female behaviour. jkr loathes bitchy, girly, flighty, butch, rude, vapid, ugly women - just look at anything she’s ever said about pansy parkinson - and she tends to write her heroines - ginny and hermione chief among them - as that perfect not-like-other-girls storm of exactly pretty and clever and popular and brave enough to be worthy, but not so pretty as to be vain or clever as to be haughty or popular as to be slutty or brave as to be villainous. lily gets this treatment - and i think this drives the tendency of readers who dislike the way she behaves in canon to be hyper-critical of her characterisation. but the issue with this is that it’s also confining ‘good’ women to narrow boxes - while, all too often, allowing male characters a complexity their female counterparts are not permitted.]

which is to say: no, lily isn’t a good friend to snape. but he’s not a good friend to her either.

the issue that the two of them have is that they each relate to the other as though the other is the version of them that they’ve constructed in their head. they never take each other as they actually are.

it’s clear in canon that lily never moves beyond seeing snape as the child - devoted only to her - whose role was to teach her about the wonderful world of magic, and who acted primarily as a tool of her own self-actualisation. this is the reason why she can’t understand why snape is so concerned about fitting in at hogwarts - above all, why he wants to be friends with mulciber and avery - or why she never realises that he wants to be reassured of her affection for him versus the marauders, or why she doesn’t take what happens to him at the marauders’ hands seriously until she is made a part of it by james, or why she doesn’t understand snape’s relationship to his own social class and its role within slytherin. she simply doesn’t conceive of him as someone who exists for himself or who has a life of his own - he exists for her.

and snape thinks the same - he sees himself as the person who gave lily the wizarding world and, therefore, as the person who gets to dictate how she understands it. this is the reason why he can’t understand why she pushes back on his defence of mulciber’s use of dark magic (since he - in a very voldemort-ish move - clearly thinks that applying boundaries to what magic can and should be studied is gatekeeping), or why she doesn’t agree with him that the death eaters will help him, or why she’s upset when he’s rude to petunia, or why she leans into the performance of class expected from muggleborns (sucking up to slughorn, taking her pureblood husband’s name) in a time of increasing sectarian tension. she exists for him.

this assessment obviously makes them both sound incredibly cruel, but actually this is the way that childhood friendships often go. it’s very easy to see how the fact of being the only two magical children in cokeworth was validating for both snape and lily, and how this formed a tie between them which was very fierce but very brittle - which was never going to do anything other than shatter as they grew older, especially as they became aware of things like social structure, political affiliation, and sexual desire. it’s cruel of lily to laugh at snape’s poverty - absolutely - but it’s also the way that lots of teenagers who haven’t entirely grappled with their own relationship to society behave, and it’s also true that acting up in front of a boy you fancy is a time-honoured tradition which can also cause you to be quite cruel. lily isn’t nice by any means when snape is being attacked by james and sirius, but she doesn’t have to be. she just has to be human.

there are two final points which i think it’s worth being aware of:

the first is that snape evidently stands out as one of the few visibly working-class students in the castle [so much so that i have a meta in my drafts about whether or not hogwarts is a selective school] and the fact that he is obviously targeted for his poverty is cruel, and i understand why it makes many fans want to defend him - particularly given the fandom’s fondness for glorifying aristocracy and wealth.

but lily is also an other in wizarding society. i think it’s often not taken as seriously as it should be by snape fans just how terrified she must have been for her own safety, particularly from the later 1970s onwards, when all the evidence of canon is that voldemort is about to win. the wizarding world is set up to exclude her just as much as it is snape, and while we can and should be critical how her response to his poverty is unfair, we have to do the same for his outright refusal to acknowledge that she is subjected to discrimination on the basis of her blood status.

the second is that we don’t actually know if lily was a prefect - she was head girl, but james managed to become head boy without having been one. the person we do know was a prefect was remus lupin. if we’re criticising anyone for failing to intervene, it should be him.

[moodymisty]

How would the Horsemen react if their human s/o was secretly learning enchantment with Makers and presented them with a great enchanted item for them to wear as a gift?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Omg this is cute. Let's give it a shot. The Horsemen deserve lovingly handcrafted gifts. I made War's a knife just because I thought it fit, but the others are totally vague and can be whatever you wish.

Relationships: Fury/Gn!Reader, War/Gn!Reader, Strife/Gn!Reader, Death/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

✦ Death ✦

I think Death would be angry. At first, I should specify.

He knows magic is extremely dangerous and not something to be trifled with, and humans have an insatiable lust for curiosity. Death sees it as one of your race's greatest strengths, but he also knows that magic and curiosity has often lead one down a dark path.

So it isn't something he's fond of hearing you've been secretly messing around with at first.

Once he has enough time to cool down, and he feels the weight of your handmade trinket in his pocket, he sighs and calms on the idea.

Though, he insists in the future he either teach you himself, or at least be there when the Makers teach you the magics only they know. It's stifling, but from what little Death has told you it's hard to blame him for worrying. You have to remind yourself he's seen a lot more in his life than he'll ever explain to you.

After all of that blows over I think Death is extremely surprised you ever even considered giving him a gift. He struggles to think of a time in his life he's ever gotten one.

Just the thought of it, and of all the effort you put into it, he's extremely grateful even if he's incapable of expressing it.

He never takes it off his person. You'd sooner be able to rid him of an arm than your gift. To have something made just for him, not for battle but because you love him; He's a secret sap and even if he'll never admit it, nothing makes him happier that looking at it sometimes and realizing that all over again.

✦ War ✦

At first War instantly demands to know where you learned that sort of magic from. When you tell him the Makers, he calms significantly but you can still see he's clearly on edge.

They wouldn't have taught you anything dangerous, but War doesn't have a fond view of magic after having to battle it for so many years. He gets over it far more quickly than Death, however.

He's just so enamored by it when you place it in his hand.

You made this? For him? You spend all that time learning a skill (skills if you made the knife itself as well) that can take centuries to master just for him? He's in love. If he wasn't already, you now have a giant horsemen. Congratulations.

If anyone even dares to try and turn their nose up at it, whether it be the knife itself or your enchantment, War is on sight.

He will instantly suggest that they familiarize themselves with it via their throat, and no amount of you tugging on his arm and pleading for him to calm down is going to stop him from threatening them until they take back what they said.

You are War's little human; One of the first of your race to wield magic and you gave it to him as a gift. What is probably the only gift the youngest horsemen has ever gotten.

When you give it to him, if you're already in a relationship, he'll give you a kiss on the top of your head. If not, you'll see his face turn hot and red, looking away and muttering an unlike him soft but sincere 'thank you'.

✦ Strife ✦

In love. He is actually swooning if you ever gave him something.

And to know you learned something as skilled as magic for it? Strife knows that Death has spend thousands of years learning and while the two of you are no comparison, for a young human like you to even grasp the concept is incredible. And you did it all for him.

People don't 'do things' for them. Especially him. And for someone with massive attachment issues like Strife, this sticks him to you like glue. Hope you enjoy a snuggly Horsemen who's still on the high of you showing him that you love him. Expect plenty of hugs and kisses.

Once when he was on a mission with War and they had to split up he was nervous it would break, and so he had nervously handed it to War and forced him to vow nothing would happen to it. The Red Rider had returned it to him safe, but he didn't enjoy having his little reminder of you away from him.

He jokingly refers to it as his little guiding light, but it is to him in a way. He likes having it and knowing you're out there waiting for him. It's a reminder that he isn't doing all of this for no reason. That especially now, he has someone to fight for.

Will absolutely give you something back. Even if it's something silly like one of his old ratty scarves. If you wear said ratty old scarf, he won't know what to do. His heart wasn't ready for this.

✦ Fury ✦

She's the one who takes it the best externally.

She thanks you for such a sweet little gift, might give you a hug or kiss depending, but once she's out of your eyesight, she's just as bad at dealing with that sort of up front show of love as the rest of the Horsemen. Which is absolutely terrible.

Your little casual show of affection is, surprising. She assumes it's a human thing to show such affection so readily, which she's very much fond of.

After all, for centuries she's thought that she was no long allowed that sort of thing when she became a Horsemen.

She keeps it safe somewhere on her person. More than likely her belt, or wrist if it's some sort of jewelry. Making sure that there's absolutely no way she could loose it. Sometimes she may habitually check if it's there, especially if she hasn't seen you in awhile.

It's a good reminder for her, and helps keep her grounded. Magic feels and reacts different depending on who casts it, and since it feels uniquely you, Fury always thinks of you whenever it does.

Absolutely jokingly says you should've asked her to teach you the magic instead, even if it wasn't something she knew. She just enjoys the way it makes you roll your eyes.

[vikkirosko]

can I request Camp Camp platonic headcanons with Max, David with fem camper who always carries a music box with them everywhere they go even the first day when she first arrived and she sometimes even winds the handle and listens to the song the music box was playing and she's also shown to be protective of it not letting anyone touch it and one day they find her near the lake completely wet from head to toe and seeing her crying while desperately trying to get the water out of the music box and even shakily winding it but with no song playing then when she finally calm down, she reveals that the music box was a gift from her late mom and ever since her mom's passing her father has been working constantly and wasn't home as often making her feel very lonely and the music box acts as a comfort item for them to remind them that her mom is still here and when she accidentally drops it in the lake, she panicked and jumps into the lake to retrieve it and frantically to trying to get it work again not wanting to lose the last thing her mom gave her

Platonic headcanons Music Box

🏕 David x kid fem!Reader 🌲

From your first day at camp, David saw that you carried a music box with you. It was as if you were calmer when you held it in your hands and you didn't let anyone touch it, as if it was the main treasure for you. Several times, in the evenings, David heard you listening to the melody that the box was playing and he was sure that it was for you as a reminder of something pleasant. He didn't see any problem in this, so he didn't tell you anything except that the box was very beautiful, which caused your sincere smile

When David noticed that you were not with the other campers, he hurried to look for you, asking Gwen to look after the others. He was afraid you might be in trouble, and he found you by the lake. You were soaked to the skin, crying and desperately trying to make your music box play, but nothing worked. David hurried over to you, worried about whether you were okay, but you just cried harder. He hurried you to the counselor's house, where he gave you a towel, wrapped you in a warm blanket and made you tea to warm up and calm down

When you stopped crying, you told him that this box was given to you by your mother, who died more than a year ago. Since the day of her death, you have been very lonely, because your father has been constantly working, trying to give you the best and drown out his own pain of loss. This box was for you the little that comforted you. When you played the melody of this box, it seemed that your mother was there. You accidentally dropped the box into the lake and tried to save it, not wanting to lose the last thing that your mother gave you, but now the box was broken and you still lost such a valuable thing for you

David cried while you were telling him this story and promised to fix your music box. He had never done this before, but he was willing to try to make you smile. He couldn't let you spend the rest of the summer upset about losing a gift from your mom

💙 Max x kid fem!Reader 🧸

It didn't hide from Max's eyes that you were walking around with a music box all the time. It seemed strange to him, because you haven't even been to music camp. You never left the box unattended, you didn't let anyone touch it, and sometimes, at night, he could clearly hear the melody of the music box from your tent. It was strange and he was sure that it was some kind of strange feature of yours, but otherwise you were an ordinary camper and you even talked sometimes

One day when Max ran away from class and went to the lake, he saw you there. It was unexpected, but even more unexpected was that you were standing there wet from head to toe, crying and trying to pour water out of the music box. He'd never seen you cry and it was weird. Max approached you uncertainly, not knowing what he could have done and whether it was worth interfering at all, but curiosity got the better of him. It took him a while to calm you down. You tried to start the box with trembling hands, but nothing worked. Your music box was broken

You told him that your mother gave you this box and that she died a couple of weeks after that. After her death, you almost stopped seeing your father. He was at work all the time, leaving when you were still asleep and coming back when you were already asleep. You were alone with your grief and this music box helped you not to feel so lonely. When you listened to the melody that the box was playing, it seemed to you that your mother was with you again. It warmed your soul. And when you dropped it into the lake, you were seized with a burning panic. You didn't think when you jumped into the lake to save the box. You didn't want to lose your mom's last gift

Max was silent throughout your story, but he knew what it was like to be alone. Although your situations were different, but looking at you, so upset, he told you in a grumpy tone to go change into dry clothes, after which you go to Neil together so that he would fix your music box. Max didn't know for sure if he could do it, but he was sure that since he could make various scientific gizmos, he could also fix the music box

[duxhess-kryzewan]

Maybe Obi-Wan has been avoiding Satine lately and Satine wonders if maybe, just maybe there might be someone else... Ends with lots of fluff and cuddling. It's good to have you back, I really enjoyed your latest one-shot!

- Only You -

Satine considered herself many things. Strong willed, dedicated, peaceful, among many other attributes. 

Her adversaries would declare her naïve and perhaps delusional with her devotion to a peaceful Mandalore, but she's learned over the years not to pay any mind to what others think of her.

But, whether they be friend or foe, one thing Satine could never be classified as if a jealous woman. 

Jealousy was unbecoming of Nobility. From an early age she had learned to be grateful for the advantages she had in life, and that envy was a pointless emotion to dwell on. It would do her no good, and came off as pretentious, something no good leader of the people should be. 

Even as she got older and her feelings and life became more complicated she refrained from allowing herself to feel something she considered as shallow as jealousy. There were bigger problems to deal with; bounty hunters to escape and a planet to rebuild. Jealously had no place in the chaos of her life. 

Yet here she stood, gazing out at the Coruscant skyline, battling the pang of jealously that bubbled inside of her. 

It was ridiculous. Of course it was ridiculous. 

But there was something about Obi-Wan avoiding her so intentionally that stung in a way she did not anticipate.

They weren’t anything. Not really. Except that also wasn’t particularly true, because she knew they were something to each other even if there were no collection of words to quantify exactly what their relationship was.

She could accept the logical reasons behind his distance. It was dangerous interacting in any other manner other than diplomatic while being so close to the temple. She understood that. And yet, she suspects that is not the reason for his distance at all.

No, she had been suddenly gripped with the fear that there was perhaps another person that had captured Obi-Wans affection.

And that unforeseen fear had suddenly riddled her with with a newfound sense of both insecurity and jealously she hadn’t ever experienced.

Satine had seen them together the night before just outside of the Senate building, talking closely with one another, and she found it nearly impossible to ignore just how intently he was looking at her or how strikingly beautiful the young woman was.

“Who was that girl?” Satine asks Padme, “With Obi-Wan yesterday evening.”

She keeps her voice level, tone bridging on flippant. She wanted to maintain a sense of indifference while also fulfilling her curiosity.

Padme, gracious as always, doesn’t comment if she suspects Satine had an ulterior motive other than innocent curiosity.

“I believe her name is Nadira,” Padme tells her, “She was rescued by Obi-Wan and Luminara from a Separatist prison on Tokadana. I think she was the only survivor. Anakin said she has vital information on the Separatists and their movements.”

“How terrible.” Satine says sincerely, suddenly wracked with guilt for harboring anything other than sympathy for the girl.

“She’s very…” Padme hesitates for a moment, “Attached to Obi-Wan. I think he was the one who found her.”

“And probably the first person who wasn’t there to harm her.” Satine surmises, feeling more terrible for the girl by the minute.

“Anakin says she’s been very helpful, but is also very reluctant to speak to just anyone. I assume he and Luminara are probably the two she feels most comfortable with. You know, her rescuers and such.”

Yes, Satine certainly knew what having Obi-Wan as her rescuer was like.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Padme tells her, implication behind her words all too clear.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She replies, but she knows Padme understands. After all, she knew the burden of keeping that secret.

A day later she’s locked in a conversation with Mon Mothma when she sees him walking through the Senate building, Ahsoka and the girl by his side, and they make eye contact.

She tries not to let the pang of sadness become evident in her expression when he averts his gaze all too quickly.

The senate hearing that day is draining and drags on for too long with no real accomplishments at the end. She was no further in securing a position for the neutral systems in the senate than she was when she arrived.

All she wants to do is go back to her room and sleep. A rarity for her, because she almost never has the urge to forego more work in the evenings to relax, but being on Coruscant always had the affect on her.

She sees them just before she reaches her room, whispering to one another in the otherwise empty hallway.

Nadira is smiling, a far cry from the shy and tortured soul that Padme had described two days earlier, and it rattles her to the core when she catches sight of Obi-Wan doing the same.

Its a genuine one; not the fake grins he reserves for politicians, but a smile rooted in affection. She knows that smile.

She tells herself that it’s simply Obi-Wan being himself. Kind and caring, always doing what he can to help and comfort someone in need.

But another part of her breaks a little bit, because she knows that despite what he says, some part of him is willing to bend the code when it comes to attachments. She was the prime example of that.

And she has no real claim to him, because they are nothing. They weren’t together. They couldn’t be. And she’s a galaxy away, barely able to communicate with him without it crossing an unspoken boundary. And yet, she had always believed a small part of her unabashedly belonged to him, and him to her.

He looks up, catching her gaze. She doesn’t bother waiting to watch his expression fall, she simply turns on her heel and walks to her room.

Maybe Satine Kryze would describe herself as a jealous woman after all.

The next few days are too busy for her to dwell on him though. She’s too preoccupied with securing working relationships with Senators and speaking in front of sessions about neutrality to spend her time saddened about him. Personal turmoil or not, her duty will always be to her people.

But as her last few days on Coruscant approach she can’t help the dejection that creeps on her at the thought of not being able to steal a few measly moments of his time. Even if they were only able to exchange the formalities of old friends seeing one another and nothing more she would be satisfied.

Because even though she considered him the love of her life, she also considered him to be one of her closest friends, something she has very little of these days.

“He and Master Fisto have been away the last two days.” Padme tells her one evening, “I’m sure if he would have seen you by now if that weren’t the case.”

“Yes, it must be.”

She chooses to believe her, because the alternative saddens her in a way she’s unsure how to navigate.

Two days before she’s set to leave she has a meeting set up with Bail Organa to discuss trade routes when an emergency Senate hearing disrupts their plans, and she finds herself heading back to her suite without much motivation to do anything else.

Battling with the senate and the chancellor makes her so, so tired.

She drinks a glass of Alderaanian wine - an apology gift from Bail - and stares out the window, suddenly home sick.

The knock at her door surprises her, though she supposes it shouldn’t. Padme had been making her way to her suite more often than not when they were both alone.

But when she opens the door she finds Obi-Wan Kenobi standing in front of her.

“What are-“

She doesn’t get a chance to get the words out, he’s too fast for her, and suddenly she finds herself being pushed back into her room and enveloped in his arms.

“I am so sorry.”

His arms around wrapped tightly around her, one circling her waist and the other resting across her back, with his face burrowed into her neck. She feels him sigh against her, his grip never faltering.

She’s frozen for a moment, her mind unable to process the suddenness of it all.

But then she relaxes and hugs him back.

They stand like that for one, two, five minutes. She’s not really sure. All she knows is she suddenly doesn’t feel homesick anymore.

When they finally break apart he cups her face in his hands, thumbs stroking lightly over her cheek bones. It sends a shiver through her. When was the last time she had been touched with such tenderness?

“I wanted to see you sooner.” He tells her gently, “Believe me. If opportunity had allowed I would have been here the night you arrived.”

There’s such raw honestly in his eyes that she has no trouble believing what he’s telling her.

“You’re here now.” She soothes.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, lips lingering for just a bit longer than strictly necessary.

“I had tried to find a moment to slip away,” He tells her, “But I’ve had a shadow following me around for the better part of your visit, which complicated things.”

Satine thinks of Nadira, with her dark hair and fair skin.

“Padme had mentioned so,” She says evenly, “I had guessed you were rather tied up.”

He nods, “The girl is kind, but reluctant to speak to just anyone. I believe her months long imprisonment made it difficult for her to trust strangers.”

Satine’s heart breaks for her.

“I can only imagine so.”

“The council order I stay with her for a few days,” He continues, “I suppose I gained her trust when I rescued her, and they were hoping she would feel more comfortable discussing what she knows with me. It took longer than expected for her to feel safe enough to do so, thus taking more of my time.”

She can’t even blame the girl.

“I’m glad you were able to help.” Satine says, voice full of sincerity yet she hears the slight undercurrent of sadness.

His hands are on her waist now, hers resting on his forearms.

“I hadn’t intended to neglect what time we have.” He tells her, voice soft yet sure.

“I had thought perhaps…” She begins, though she can’t bring herself to finish the sentence. It was ridiculous to have ever thought it in the first place.

She can see it in his eyes though; the pure understanding of what she meant.

“Satine,” He whispers, expression suddenly saddened, “You couldn’t possibly think…”

He trails off too, and she feels foolish to have ever fathomed any of it.

“She’s very lovely,” Satine says carefully, “I thought that perhaps you were distancing yourself to avoid telling me that your feelings have since changed from our last interaction.”

Finally he kisses her. Softly, almost apologetically and it feels like coming home.

“There is no one else I would ever risk the code for, Satine.” He grabs one of her hands and raises it to his lips, “Only you. And I’m sorry that I cannot be there to remind you of that.”

“We made our choices.”

He kisses her knuckles, “All you have to do is say the word.”

She shakes her head, “I could never.”

Because as much as she wants to live out the rest of her days with him at her side, she could never make him walk away from the order he holds so dear.

“Very well,” He concedes, “But please never doubt my devotion to you, Satine. There isn’t a soul in galaxy that I could ever posses the same depth of feelings for that I do you.”

She doesn’t know how to begin articulating what he means to her, so she doesn’t speak at all. She simply presses her lips against his and hopes he understands.

Hours later they lay in her bed, she curled into his side, fingertips running along a fresh scar on his rib cage. This is what their relationship consisted of; stolen moments.

His lips brush against her cheek, a ghost of a promise and she knows deep in the confines of her soul that he was hers, just as she was his.

[taetaespeaches]

“When I say I love you forever, that’s what I mean.”

yoongi x reader (oc)

genre: fluff; smut (just barely at the end)

word count: 2.8K

a/n: Hi lovelies! It’s Yoongi day!!!! This is the night Yoongi starts working on People for his mixtape and he and Kid/reader have a long conversation about life, people, and the meaning of everything. Idek if the conversations make full sense but that’s kind of what I like about them, these two are just bullshitting and getting to know each other even more and I think it’s sweet. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :))

And happy birthday to our favorite honey boy 🍯💛

Seated on Yoongi’s studio couch, your eyes scanned over the words of the paperback novel in your hands as the sounds of the beats from the man’s computer started and stopped at random, filling the room with evidence of his genius and artistry. As you turned the page, the man sat back against his chair with a small huff, your gaze lifting from the book to your boyfriend.

You waited a moment, seeing if he was going to initiate conversation or if he was simply taking a quick moment to himself. However, when his head turned to peer behind him, sneaking a glance at you, you couldn’t help the upward curve of your lips.

“Hey,” he chuckled lightly, your smile growing.

“What’s up, Honey Boy?”

He appeared bashful, as if he was embarrassed and almost guilty for interrupting your reading. Lowering the book to the cushion next to you, holding your place with your finger, you cocked your head.

“Would you mind giving this a listen real quick?” He asked shyly, your eyes widening in slight surprise. Yoongi asking for your opinion on his music wasn’t new or even rare, but the tentativeness in his demeanor certainly was. The man could be bashful when sharing his work, but rarely hesitant.

Nodding at him, he sat back up and pressed play on the track. It was different than anything he’d ever shown you before, the slow melodic flow of the song, paired with interesting xylophone-type of sound, immediately capturing you. Your eyebrows pulling together as you listened, a focus overtaking you.

It was just the instrumental, but it felt comforting; calming.

“This is from,” he thought out loud, “2016 probably.”

“It’s amazing, Yoon,” you complimented sincerely. “I’m actually kind of offended you’ve had this all this time just hiding in your hard drive,” you teased with a smile, Yoongi chuckling as he spun his chair around to face you.

“You think I should use it for the mixtape?” He asked, already knowing he should, but seeking your opinion anyway.

“Definitely,” you told him as you lifted the book, only to fold the corner of the page down. Dropping the novel onto the couch, you stood and easily approached the man, his gaze following you intently as you neared him. Leaning against his desk, Yoongi spun in his chair so he continued to face you. “It’s really good.”

Giving you a single appreciative nod, he held back a grin. “Thank you,” he whispered, the shyness in his gratitude adorable, making you smile. “I love your smile,” he told you suddenly, a small breathy chuckle escaping your lips.

“Thanks,” you told him quickly, trying to brush over the compliment, feeling bashful under his gaze. You both simply stared at one another, both of your minds trying to decipher each other’s expressions.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked you, clueless as to what was going on in your mind, but knowing there was something weighing on it.

With a small sigh, you flashed him a small smile. “Do you think I’m a good person?” You asked him, the man’s eyebrows pulling together.

“I do,” he replied simply, though his expression remained the same. “Why?”

“I saw an old friend today,” you told him as you lifted yourself onto the desk so you were seated atop it, your feet dangling above the floor.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, his hands coming to rest on your knees.  

“She’s changed so much, I barely recognized her,” you continued. “We used to be so close in school and now, it’s like I hardly know her,” you told him, the fragility of your voice apparent to your own ears, so you knew Yoongi heard it too. “She has a baby I had no idea about.”

Yoongi stared at you thoughtfully, locking his eyes with yours, a rare occurrence for him. “Why is that making you concerned about your goodness as a person?”

“I just-” you paused thoughtfully. “I let that relationship fade away. You know, I was the one who stopped communicating, I was the one who cancelled plans, I just pulled away and withdrew.”

“That doesn’t make you bad, that makes you human,” he informed you, his thumbs soothing along the insides of your thighs, just above your knee caps. “People change.”

Nodding in understanding, you directed a small tight smile at him. “You know, as happy as I am with my life and the people in it,” you scrunched your nose, poking his hand with your finger to emphasize his important role among those people, Yoongi letting a small smile grace his features, “I feel nostalgic for something,” you finished. Lifting his hand from your leg, he wrapped it around your own hand, holding it comfortingly in his grasp. His palm was as warm as his considerate gaze, and you realized for the hundredth time that Yoongi was warmth embodied. “Does everyone feel like this or is there something wrong with me?” You scoffed lightly at yourself.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He teased, making a small giggle leave your lips as you softly jerked your knee up to bump his arm in light-hearted complaint. “I can’t speak for everyone, but sometimes I think I miss the person I was before,” he looked around the studio, “you know, all this,” he admitted, referring to his career.

Leaning toward him, you listened intently, your orbs scanning his features as he pondered over the thoughts within his mind.

“Maybe not even the person, but the life,” he elaborated, you humming in understanding.

“Do you find that it was a simpler time?” You asked, intrigued by his words.

“Not so much simpler but just different, I guess,” he thought out loud. “It feels like I sacrificed the ordinary for the extraordinary,” he added, latching his gaze onto your legs as you stared down at him. “And now the ordinary becomes extraordinary,” he said, lowering his chin to your knees as his fingers picked at the fraying around the hole in your jeans.

Your free hand that wasn’t being held by his found its way to his hair, your fingers digging into his soft strands.

“I sound ungrateful,” he chuckled dryly against your legs, you shaking your head despite him not seeing it, his eyes still glued to the hole in your clothing.

“No, just human,” you spoke up. “It’s natural to long for those realities that belong to some but not to us,” you assured him, the man rotating his face so his cheek rested against your leg, his orbs gazing up at you.

“People dream of having my life though,” he mumbled, his lips slightly pouted making him look precious despite the negative thoughts swirling around his head and leaving that adorable pout. “And here I am just wishing I could walk down the street without a care in the world,” he smiled a bit. “Am I even a good person? I feel greedy.”

Brushing your fingers through his hair, you pouted, watching him for a moment before responding. “I’m biased, but I think you are.”

“You sure?” He quipped, a teasing glint in his eyes that made you smile as a breathy chuckle left your lips.  

“You’re a good person, Yoongi, I won’t have you thinking otherwise,” you insisted with a glare, Yoongi’s lips curving into a grin in response.

“My life isn’t any more special than anyone else’s,” he suddenly decided. “Just different.”

Nodding at him, you agreed. “You’re just a person.” Yoongi’s eyebrows raised, preparing to tease you for the lackluster conclusion, your mouth already shaping into a knowing smile. “But my favorite person,” you added. “So that’s something.”

Placing a kiss to your jean adorned knee, he grinned. “It’s everything.”

“I think it has meaning,” you noted, your and Yoongi’s conversation taking several different paths throughout the past forty-five minutes or so. You were now talking about the meaning of life, and whether there was a meaning at all. “I just don’t know what,” you added with a shy smile.

Yoongi’s gummy grin beamed up at you as he squeezed your thigh playfully. “I go back and forth. Like, we’re here by chance, right? Maybe life is no deeper than that,” he explained, you nodding in understanding. “But also, I found music and BTS, and here I am with you, and all of that feels meaningful,” he added thoughtfully.

“Do you believe in fate?” You questioned curiously.

“Maybe,” he responded, his voice sliding up slightly in pitch.

“I find myself thinking that same thing. Like maybe we don’t have a purpose as living beings except to just, be here, and live. And maybe it’s the people we know and the experiences we have that give it all meaning,” you thought aloud, Yoongi humming as he peered up at you.

“Yeah, I like that,” he settled with a small close-mouthed smile that pushed his fluffy cheeks up adorably. Moving your hand from his hair, you poked his cheek, Yoongi giving you a feigned grimace in reply.

“Ok, so question for you,” you started, Yoongi’s eyes widening in anticipation. “If your life wasn’t so extraordinary, what would you do?”

“Like, without the fame?” He asked.

“Yeah, let’s say for a day, no one knew who Min Yoongi, Suga, Agust D was, what would you do?” You asked with a small smile, feeling giddy to hear his answer.  

“I would take you out on the most normal run of the mill date,” he answered easily.

“That’s what you’d do?!” You asked in disbelief, Yoongi smiling cutely. “What like to the movies?”

“To the movies and to dinner and to get ice cream and we’d walk around Seoul without a care in the world about who could see us,” he grinned.

“We’ve done all those things though,” you pointed out.

“I mean, yeah, we have our spots that feel safe, and we venture out on occasion, but we could go anywhere without the stress of being seen,” he explained. “No worries, just us.”

Flashing him a fond smile, you pushed his hair off his forehead gently. “I didn’t realize you had so much stress when we go out,” you noted, a softness evident in your tone.

“I’m just- hyperaware,” he clarified.

“Would you hold my hand in the street, Honey Boy?” You asked with a wide grin, Yoongi chuckling at you.

“I wouldn’t let go of your hand,” he told you, his thumb running along the side of your hand as he spoke the words. “You know what else I would do?” He asked happily.

“What?” You whispered through your beaming grin.

“I’d kiss you in front of everyone,” he returned your smile. “And I’d post a cheesy photo of us on my pubic instagram to brag about how beautiful my girlfriend is.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, Yoongi giggling as his chin rested on top of your knee.

“It would be nice,” he hummed thoughtfully, as if he was losing himself in a day dream where he could live so carelessly.

Moving your hand to the side of his face, you pulled his attention back to you as you cocked your head at him and smiled at him. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older, and we wouldn’t have to wait so long,” you stared to sing playfully, Yoongi dropping his forehead to your knee as he laughed at you.

Sitting back in his chair, he looked back up to you with his gummy grin, his eyes bright and full of adoration. “I love that song,” he noted, you giggling.

“Me too,” you replied in a whisper.

A pause in the conversation took place as Yoongi’s eyes scanned over your features, yours following the movement of his gaze. When his eyes met yours, he slowly pushed his chair away from the desk and stood in front of you, his hands finding your waist as his face hovered close to yours.

Placing a kiss to the side of your mouth, you breathed out slowly, the intimacy between you both blossoming more stunningly than it ever had before.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours as your hands found his neck, your fingers greedily but gently exploring the soft skin of his neck and jaw, grazing over his throat.

“I love you too,” you told him. “Forever.”

Pressing your lips to his, he brought his body as close to yours as he could, wanting you as close as possible. As he deepened the kiss, your mouth moving in synchronization with his own, his hands found the bottom of your shirt.

Tugging up, you removed your hands from him to allow him to pull the clothing from your frame. Dropping the shirt onto the desk next to your bodies, his eyes glanced down at your chest to see the flimsy lace bra. As one of his hands moved behind you to feel your back, sliding down to grasp the top of your ass, he dragged the finger of his opposite hand along the edge of your bra cup.

“What does forever mean?” He suddenly asked in a low timbre, just before pressing a lingering peck to your mouth. “You never know what the future holds,” he said realistically, though his tone was still seductive and light.

“I think the intent behind the word is what matters,” you told him, trailing kisses along his neck, Yoongi tilting his head to the side to allow you more access. “What a person feels when they speak the word.”

“So what do you feel? What do you mean when you say forever?” He questioned, your head raising to look him in the eyes.

Scooting off the desk, you stood in front of Yoongi, your gaze locked on his. “When I say forever,” you started, your hands finding the sides of his face as his held your waist. “I mean it literally. For always, evermore, in this lifetime and the next. Maybe even past lifetimes. The future is unpredictable, but when I say I love you forever, that’s what I mean,” you assured him as the man stared at you with a surety you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before.

Leaning in to kiss him again, you began pushing him backward, you both stumbling as he bumped into the chair. Your lips curved upward into the kiss, you both chuckling as you continued your clumsy ministrations.

Finding your way to the couch, you dropped onto it, sliding across it so you could recline, Yoongi standing above you watching you intently. As you stared up at him with a smirk, he shed himself of his shirt. Crawling atop you, your hands grabbed onto his hips, your fingers digging underneath the waistband.

He kissed you passionately, pouring his feelings and emotions into the action, causing you to moan, the sound melting against the man’s mouth, making him smirk. Sitting up on his knees, he undid the zipper on his own jeans before reaching for your own. His eyes left your legs for just a moment as he reached for the book shoved against the back of the sofa.

“This any good?” He asked, you quirking your eyebrow.

“It is, want me to read it to you?” You asked, Yoongi scoffing as he tossed it onto the table, you giggled as he went back to pulling your clothes from your body.

As he removed his clothing, you reached for your bag on the floor next to you, pulling a condom out, Yoongi smirking at you.

Once your clothing was removed, giggles flooding the room as you both struggled to wiggle out of your jeans and your bra flung somewhere across the studio, it was a matter of seconds until his skin was against yours, your body caged by his arms. 

He kissed you passionately, a hand on your waist as his other arm supported his weight over you. Slipping inside you, you groaned out at the sensation, Yoongi breathing lowly at the feeling of you. 

As you clasped a leg around his, your hand grasping at his ass, he placed delicate kisses across you face, giving special attention to your cheeks as he began dragging his hips. 

“I love you,” he whispered before pushing his mouth to yours, swallowing your breaths and whimpers. He moved slowly, savoring every moment of being together, wanting this night to last, forever. 

Your hands clutched his back, clinging to him as he moved in and out of you with a passionate force that had you moaning out near his ear. And he reveled in your sounds, knowing he was the cause, knowing you were his. Forever.

Leaving a kiss to his earlobe, you confessed your love for him once more. And then again. And again.

“Forever,” you repeated, the word coated in intention and meaning. You’d be loving him forever.  

[free-pancakes]

Hänge angry because Levi hides his injuries and when he went to the infirmary they didn't treat him fast because he was so good at hiding it

sorry it took forever!!

warning: very angst with a happy ending

-------

“Wow, look at Hange-san go!”

The newest group of Scouts watched in awe during their first expedition, as newly promoted Squad Leader Hange blasted herself around the forest, slashing up titans left and right. It really was quite impressive. Whispers amongst the Scouts praised her, knowing that her titan kill count would reach a record high.

But it didn’t fool Moblit.

Hange was unhinged, laughing crazily into the wind with each fall of a titan, suppressing how she felt so deeply that she was essentially numb. Moblit noticed how she was careless with the amount of gas she was using, her movements just a little too carefree. It was not the Hange he knew.

Nifa praised Hange and she kept going at it. But Moblit was worried.

He called out to her, telling her to be cognizant of the amount of gas she was using. She gave him a subtle look, and he saw it—an extra tube of gas on her just in case.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and focused more on the titans for the meantime.

The Scouts fought and after sometime, the tides turned unexpectedly. A group of larger titans appeared, and a few of the newer Scouts were...lost. Yells to retreat began and they all started making their way back.

Squads reconvened to make sure all were accounted for.

Hange’s squad gathered, but their eyes widened fear. Moblit felt his heart drop in a panic.

Where was Hange?

The squad made their way back into the forest—Moblit happened to catch the eyes of his closest comrades.

Erwin, Mike, Nanaba watched him pass. They saw a panicked look in his eyes, much more concerning than his usual worried look as Hange’s right hand man. The three nodded at each other, headed back with him, commanding the rest of the Scouts to continue in retreat as they went back to search for Hange.

The group of them sped deeper into the forest, titan steam heading from all directions, several large bodies on the ground. Hange really was impressive, though. She must have taken out almost all of them singlehandedly.

“Looks like she might have taken them all out, I don’t think we should worry!” Nanaba called out, trying to reassure everyone’s trust in Hange.

But Moblit pushed forward faster at the sound of that. He had a horrible feeling churning around in his stomach. Memories of the past week flashed through his mind.

Just one week ago from now, they had gone on an expedition, one that produced more injuries amongst the Scouts than the usual. He and Hange and brought Levi to the infirmary—he seemed okay but Hange wanted to make sure that he got checked out. Erwin had called the two of them to help with some matters in the meantime, so they left Levi, saying they’d find his room and check up on him later.

The tasks took a bit longer than expected, but Hange made sure to come back to check on Levi, and Moblit tagged along. They searched through infirmary rooms, many doubled up with people since so many were injured. But they couldn’t find Levi anywhere. They wandered back into the triage area to find Levi sitting in the same spot they left him in hours ago. Hange smiled and head over to him, but suddenly, Levi’s face turned a ghostly white.

“Levi?” Hange asked.

And Moblit stood, watching Levi fall to the floor, the Hange’s scout hoodie falling from his hands, revealing the other side—sopped with blood.

Moblit stood, dumbstruck as Hange rushed in to help Levi. He must have waited, letting all the younger Scouts get checked and tended to first, likely downplaying his injuries to the infirmary staff. But clearly, he lost a lot of blood.

Moblit watched, ears ringing in worry, so much so that he barely made out Hange’s yelling. She had gone absolutely berserk, clearly in anguish and rage that no one had checked on Levi.

It was all a blur of yelling, Levi being tended to quickly, and Moblit having to hold Hange back from severely injuring anyone within reach.

Levi was in critical state, and Moblit checked on him and Hange everyday. She fell asleep sitting next to Levi’s bed each night, but slept so lightly to make sure he was taken care of properly, that at any time he stirred, she was ready to act. Moblit urged her to rest and that he’d take over watching Levi, but she refused.

Moblit and the rest of them knew how much Levi and Hange cared for each other, but this was the first time any of them saw Hange so outward about his protection, wearing so clearly the fierceness of a mother animal protecting its young from predators. To anyone else, Hange had it together. But Moblit knew she experienced such severe turmoil within. There was a chance Levi wouldn’t survive, and Moblit saw through Hange’s facade, and how much she was collapsing within.

Moblit pressed on hurriedly in the forest, slight relief as he finally found Hange standing over a dead titan. He called out to her and she turned, a blank look in her eyes, sending shivers up Moblit’s spine. He beckoned her to come, but as she blasted up towards him, her gas finally ran out. She hit the ground hard, but quickly began replacing it with the extra tube she had.

But out of nowhere, a large titan hand struck at Hange’s side, knocking the tube out of her hand, rolling away, lost under the foliage of the forest floor. She moved slowly, as if she didn’t care that she’d get grabbed, and just that happened. The titan grabbed Hange and she barely put up a struggle. Moblit dashed forward, Erwin and Mike charging out of nowhere to detach the titan’s hand, Nanaba slashed at the nape, and Moblit grabbed Hange as she fell from the grip of the maimed hand.

Together they rushed out of the forest, and all the way back to the walls. The rest of the Scouts had returned long ago, and they arrived at the wall, the sun already setting in the bright orange sky.

As they set up the horses to be brought up the wall, the group heard a rustle of gear.

Moblit had grabbed Hange by the collar, staring straight into her face, and began yelling.

Hange’s squad, Erwin, Mike, and Nanaba stared, completely shocked to see the normally quiet and hesitant Moblit make such a rash move against his superior, and person he respected the most.

“Moblit!” Nifa yelled, followed by the rest of Hange’s squad to separate the two.

But Erwin and Mike silently held out their arms, stopping them. Whether it was out of curiosity of what would come of the situation, or out of shock at Moblit’s actions, they all stood and watched, figuring Moblit should get to say what he wanted to say.

Hange was just as surprised as the rest of them, warmth slowly returning to her eyes after the cold numbness they all witnessed this whole week.

“Moblit?” Hange let out in a detached, cool tone.

And Moblit yelled.

He yelled and yelled into her face. Bits of the conversation drilling painfully into everyone’s ears as they watched Moblit release a repressed rage onto Hange.

“You can’t just throw your life away like that!” Moblit yelled, his words echoing heavily through the air.

“If Levi dies, do you think you could just choose to die too? Do you really think that would help?!” he yelled, tears welling in his eyes.

“The world doesn’t just revolve around you, Hange! To lose Levi would be horrible, but to then lose you too?!”

Hange stared back at Moblit, and then her eyes wandered to everyone around her. She saw the sadness in everyone else. Moblit yelling at her for the first time, and the tears in everyone else’s eyes was basically a slap to her face.

How could she have been so stupid?

How could she forget that Levi meant something to all of them too? That this week was painful to them as well?

And how could she also forget...that all of them loved her too?

——————

Levi woke up groggily, feeling a warm hand in his. He looked down and as his vision came to focus, he saw Hange holding his hand, her head lying on the bed, clearly deeply asleep. He lifted his hand, carefully moving the messy strands of hair behind her ear.

“Welcome back, Captain.”

He looked up to see Moblit standing at the foot of his bed.

Levi listened to Moblit explain all that had happened, and stared back down at Hange, running his hands through Hange’s hair.

“Thanks, Moblit,” Levi said softly. He couldn’t thank Moblit enough, really.

Moblit carefully scooped up Hange in his arms, and gingerly laid her on the bed next to Levi. She was so tired, she didn’t even stir.

Moblit walked to the door to let himself out. As he turned around to close it, he stole a glance at the two—Levi closed his eyes as he fit Hange’s head perfectly under his chin, hugging her close, holding her like he never wanted to let go.

Moblit felt a sincere smile fall upon his lips, and he closed the door quietly behind him.

[inknopewetrust]

smallest joys (Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader)

Summary: the tree in the Holmes’ backyard as a place of great peace and laughter of all, and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

A/N: thanks so much for reading and always remember that authors love to hear any feedback on stories, so don’t be shy to share your opinions. Requests are still closed, but I’m working on getting them up and running hopefully soon! xoxo (gif not mine)

Enola was perched high above the ground in the great gray tree that sat far from the house she had grown to resent without her mother there. It was difficult, the constant want of adventure and thrill that was often smothered because of Mycroft’s inability to have a semblance of joy in his life.

Throwing the shading pencil in her sketchbook and closing it with a huff, Enola heard a set of angered footsteps make their way towards the tree in which she inhabited and she balled her fists against a branch. Half expecting it to be Mycroft yelling at her for leaving the study and half expecting it to be Sherlock doing their eldest brother’s bidding in a kinder manner, one they always hoped she’d fall for.

But it wasn’t. Y/n L/n, Sherlock’s feisty assistant from London was irate with her cheeks as red as apples storming toward the tree. Without noticing Enola above, Y/n leaned against its trunk and her head fell into her hands in embarrassment.

“Did you do something stupid?” Enola inquired and you jumped ever so slightly, looking up with great haste at Enola above. The young girl was smiling down on you kindly but also with such an inquisitive mind, you weren’t sure if she truly cared or just wanted manor gossip to share with the housemaid.

“And why would you ask such a thing, young lady?” You shoved your hands on your hips and narrowed fine eyes at Enola, trying to forget why you stormed out in the first place, though that was practically impossible because you knew he would follow after an argument.

“I asked you first, Y/n. And I’m not a young lady, you sound like Mycroft.” Enola swung her feet off a branch and rested her head in her intertwined hands that laid on top of another arm of the great tree.

“What happened? Did Sherlock finally recognize your talents for discovery or did you say something stupid that angered him?” Enola asked again, more in depth than before and her eyes narrowed now at the woman she had grown to admire very much.

Y/n was always someone who Enola could depend upon. Whether it be for new books from London or a simple lesson on dust particles, she knew Y/n had many of the answers. But as of late, with her mother gone and the tension in the home only growing, Sherlock appeared to be easily angered or upset by small comments, jokes or jabs at him that were not unusual from his assistant and Enola took notice. She saw the way Y/n’s eyes fell or how she would storm out of the room, angered at either herself or his reaction to her little joys and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was always her he was getting angry at. It had never happened before they had come to stay at his childhood home to help with Enola.

“Enola, I do not want to burden you with the petty arguments of adults. It is no concern of yours.”

“If it is my brother’s fault I consider it my concern.”

You pursed her lips at the girl before indulging in your frustrations.

“Every little comment I make he gets angry at. I am not use to being yelled at by him and I certainly do not understand why he is so uptight ever since we arrived. I try to help with his inquiries about your mother but even then, my input seems to go in one ear and sails out the other! Enola, I mean nothing by this, truly, I am simply frustrated by always being second fiddle to a man who appears to need no help at all.” You managed to mutter out in a moments time and Enola understood. Mycroft was the one treating Enola the same way at the moment and she wanted nothing more than to place a metal helmet on his head and bang a stick against it to set his mind straight. The men just do not appear to respect the intelligence of the women in the house.

“I am not meant for a life of domesticity, Enola. I am sure you can tell by the way I stir a pot or fold the laundry, I like adventure and I enjoy mystery very much. I simply want Sherlock to see that too. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend over one little spat.”

Enola smiled down at you and jumped down, meeting the grass with a thud and wiped off the shards that managed to catch themselves on her stockings.

“And that is why I admire you, very much, if I may add. And are you sure you don’t love him? If friends act the way you two do, I would have to choose my friends wisely.” You chuckled, reassured her you were simply just friends and embraced Enola in a some-what motherly manner, though Enola saw it as what she’d imagined would be a best friend, or sister.

“I would tell him how you feel. Make him understand you better and believe me when I say he will listen.” Enola retracted from the embrace and shot off towards the house, leaving you in state of bewilderment and confusion but when you turned around yourself intending to watch Enola run toward the house, you were met with the man you had no more than ten minutes ago stormed away from.

Sherlock stood with one hand in a pocket and the other clutching a book to his chest and a small pout on his face. The pout wasn’t one of sadness or disappointment, but of wonder and curiosity, already trying to decipher the situation before him.

“She was quick to run away.” Sherlock observed and moved toward the tree, leaning his back against it and looking over to you, just slightly to the side of him but facing him, not the land surrounding the tree.

“Well if she knew your temper as well as I do, I would run away too but obviously that has proven to not be an option.”

“I came here to apologize.” Your eyes, ears, and heart managed to perk up at the sound of Sherlock saying the word “apologize” because it wasn’t one he had ever said before, certainly not to you or anyone else he interacted with.

“An apology? From the great Sherlock Holmes? What ever shall I do with this honor?” You faked a gasp and held a hand to your forehead in a manner that only suggested a maiden swooning. Sherlock enrolled his eyes at the joke, seeming to understand that it was simply that, and as your hand made its way down from your forehead, he captured it softly in his empty one and held it gently, yet firm and your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I would like to be serious about this, Y/n. My actions towards you the last few days have been unlike me and I am sorry for making you feel as if your opinion doesn’t matter, because it most certainly does.”

So he had heard you short conversation with Enola.

“Your opinion I value more than anyone in this world and I am frustrated I have gotten nowhere with my mother’s case in several days. I want her to return safely and with every passing day that outcome becomes less likely.”

“If you spoke to me about your concerns earlier we may have found a middle ground Sherlock. I accept your apology but I will not forgo my jokes in any situation so enjoy the humor while I still walk this earth.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace his face at the comment. He knew you always took your work seriously, but humor helped with the difficulties some cases can bring and he often failed to recognize the importance of laughter and enjoyment even in the darkest times. He still held your hand in his, in which he then brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your palm. It was personal, intimate, and apologetic.

“I am sorry you have to put up with me. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you’re trying to brighten the darkest days.”

“If I want to leave I can, but I seek thrill too much to let you or these cases disappear from my life.”

Sherlock actually smiled and sat down against the trunk, leading you to sit beside him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulders pulling you close. Ever since you arrived at his home, intimate interactions were seldom as Mycroft would have a million harsh words about how you were not a “proper lady to Sherlock”, but it wasn’t like Sherlock would have cared anyway.

“Shall we return to this story?” Sherlock said in a low, “fancy” voice in your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his attempt to be regal.

“I sincerely hope Elizabeth slaps Mr. Darcy across the face after what he said about her family. If that does not happen, the story dies there.”

“Would you slap every man who offends you? Because if so I’ll brace for one now.” Sherlock was actually joking for once but you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and let it fall, playing with a button on his waist coat. He looked down at you, a curl from the top of his head falling onto his forehead with a spring and you smiled at the handsome man you curled up against. 

“Perhaps.”

Sherlock laid a lingering kiss on your forehead and opened the book, removing the leaf that served at the bookmark and began reading in total comfort with you beside him. It was perfect until a rumble came from the bush and Enola shot up with sticks in her hair.

“So you ARE together!?”

[tenkasato]

It’s a Start

Scenario:  As a humble store owner in Marley, you get the surprise of your life when the nightmare from Paradis, the one acclaimed as their strongest soldier, drops by to buy tea leaves. Needless to say, you were equally surprised he was strangely mesmerizing. Post-rumbling.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x reader

There he was.

The strongest known menace from the formerly thought home of devils, Paradis Island. The indestructible soldier who cut through the wonder boy Zeke like he was cutting butter. The unforgiving soul who personally took down numbers of Marleyan men and women. Now an acclaimed hero of this war.

You expected differently. 

Of course, you've heard of his condition. He was not exactly crippled, but not exactly in his top shape either. The man looked quite docile in his wheelchair. Quietly, he examined each tea canister from your shop with a scrutinizing eye. 

From where you were standing by the counter, you could make out the barely perceptible downward curve of his lips. He returned the tea leaves before he moved to the next shelf. 

From the friends you had from the military, you've heard countless horror stories about this man. Versions after the other, a few more grisly than the other. You supposed you should be terrified that a former enemy had come into your store, even if he was unarmed and injured. 

Commonsense told you to keep your distance, but curiosity is one enticing lady who relentlessly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

When he seemed to be having a hard time reaching for the Ceylon tea, you decided to silence these voices and make your approach.

Levi Ackerman immediately bristled when he sensed you coming. You eyed him for a second before grabbing the said canister and handing it over. 

"This one's harvested from Ludwig Orchard," you told him. "If you like strong tea, then this is a good choice."

Levi considered you, one eye clouded over while the other layered with intensity unlike you've ever seen before. Scars decorated his face. One long one stretched from his forehead down to his chin. Even so, he was beautifully flawed. These were such odd words to describe him, but at the moment, you couldn’t think of any other fitting description.

You tried not to be rude by staring, so you shifted your gaze to the canister in his hand. 

"I do like strong tea."

You were mildly surprised he had a smooth voice. It was nowhere near gentle, but neither was it gruff like you imagined. In fact, it was nice to listen to. 

"But I've bought too many of those types already," he continued, weighing the can in his hand. "I’m trying to look for a milder one and appealing to the taste of most people.”

“I see.”

Giving you a small nod, he handed the Ceylon back to you. 

“Are you opening a tea shop around?” you asked.

Levi took another canister from the lower shelf and brought it in front of his face. “You can say that.”

You let him scan the descriptions written behind each choice, wondering whether you should just leave him be. But it wasn’t often that a man like him dropped by in a measly store like yours. 

“Why are you still here?” you dropped the bomb.

His hand froze midway in the air. He cast you one wary glance before proceeding on returning the tea. “Care to elaborate?”

“Levi Ackerman, the notorious Eldian captain. Once our sworn enemy. I don’t understand why someone like you would want to stay in Marley after all that’s happened.”

He was left in silent contemplation. You could tell he was weighing the words in his mind. Was it safe to speak to a seemingly harmless store owner like you? Or were you a spy? You knew the volatile situation his people were still in. The aftermath of Eren Jaeger’s rumbling was still fresh in the minds of many.

You sighed, “I’m sorry. That was very intrusive of me.”

“I can't go home,” he said, surprising you with an honest reply. “The unrest in Eldia remains unresolved. In my state, I’d probably be more of a liability than an asset.”

You nodded, crossing your arms and leaning towards the shelf. “I understand. Must be rough staying in enemies’ territories, huh?”

“You could say that,” he shrugged, “Although technically, we aren’t enemies anymore.”

“Do you really mean that?” you said before you could stop yourself.

He raised a brow at you. “What makes you think I don’t.”

“Well… it’s obvious, right? There’s no way we could be friends after just one night.”

“I never said we were.”

“You killed many of my people,” you spat, suddenly feeling the lividity that enraptured your heart just a few years ago. “Bombed Liberio. Slit the throat of my friends. Took many innocent lives of your own.”

A glare crossed his face. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t at all terrifying. Levi placed both hands on the handle of his wheelchair and supported himself up. Eyes widening, you backpedal a few steps when he started limping towards you.

Handicapped or not, you knew he could still effortlessly snap your spine into two.

He stopped a few inches from you, staring you down with a mixture of coldness and despair. You didn’t think anyone could ever stare with such strong emotions. Your blood froze and your heart roared at his proximity, but despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from this enigma.

“Mister Ackerman---”

“Levi,” he corrected you.

“Levi,” you swallowed. “I apologize. I did not intend to antagonize you.”

“What you’re telling me is valid,” he said. “I’m not about to beg for forgiveness because I believe I can never atone for all the things I’ve done, but I’m asking for understanding. Your people tried to annihilate us, and we had no other choice but to fight back for our own survival. Regardless, I apologize. For all the lives I’ve taken.”

You took in his bowed head, closed fists and tightly shut eyes. The sincerity in his voice was hard to miss, but so was the still blazing rage he had for the spilled blood. You doubted the scars in his face and body were the only scars he had. 

Such a strong man. Such fragility he also held. 

You took in some air and exhaled, “Please raise your head.”

When he did, your eyes connected. With pursed lips, you took a canister of Oolong tea and shoved it in his palm. He looked at it and shot you a questioning glance. 

“A peace offering,” you blurted out bashfully, “It’s on the house. I bet people would love drinking this one. It’s a classic favorite around here after all.”

“Are you sure? For all I know, you could be sabotaging my business,” he muttered.

“Business is business!” you gasped, accidentally slapping his arm purely out of reflexes. “I don’t take things personally, besides…”

You flashed him an accepting, genuine smile, “I understand what you’re saying, Levi. I can’t forgive you or your people. The same for you towards us. But this is a start.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He didn’t open his mouth to reply. However, the mere softening of his eyes washed you with warmth. Levi tucked the canister under his arm and ambled back to his wheelchair. He was about to turn when you both heard footsteps approaching.

“Levi-san! I’ve been looking all over for you! Gabi said one moment you were beside her, the next moment you vanished.” The young man frowned deeply at Levi, one hand on his hip. “Please tell us next time if you wanted to go somewhere.”

Levi clicked his tongue, “I did, but she was so busy choosing rings at the stall.”

“Rings?” the kid gasped, blushing. He started wheeling Levi to the direction of the exit when he placed a hand on the kid’s arm and turned to you.

He held your gaze, delicately, surprisingly so, “What’s your name?”

Your heart skipped a beat. When you’ve recovered, you laughed, dazed with everything that’s just happened. 

“Go out of the store and check the sign. You’ll see my name.”

“Alright.”

“Levi,” you said, “Come again.”

[slashbitch2]

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[kyberphilosopher]

Atonement

Requested: yes. 

Word Count: 4193 Cal must deal with the consequences of his comrades deception and injuries, while they must deal with what this means for their relationship. 

Atonement is the concept of a person taking action to correct previous wrongdoing on their part, either through direct action to undo the consequences of that act, equivalent action to do good for others, or some other expression of feelings of remorse.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

Once upon a time, Anakin wasn’t all bad. But maybe that was why he died. After that, there wouldn’t have been competition for someone that was all bad, or at least somewhat worse than Anakin was alone. 

Not that Anakin was a complete and utter angel. You knew, not better than anyone but still enough, that Anakin wasn’t all good either. And sure, most people aren’t, but your Master wasn’t most people. Far more talented and powerful was he than the other Jedi Knights, but far more unhinged was he who could not control himself. Anakin was the latter. 

The other Jedi seemed to pity you. It wasn’t as if Anakin Skywalker was always inherently kind on you. You weren’t funny like Ahsoka, or respectable like Obi-Wan. In fact, Anakin had a suspicion that there was something inside of you that reminded him of his mother. Thus, he was cold. And he rarely bothered to teach in the way that people deserved to be taught. 

He doesn’t like me, you remember thinking. He never will. 

You had been the perfect padawan. You were certain you had done everything right. And yet, Anakin’s stare was icy, when he bothered to look your way at all. Where had your Master gone after the Purge anyway?

Your eyes open slowly. 

Light peels across your vision, smeared from the art of being tired. Once your lids are widened, the back of your right hand lays across your forehead lazily. You had been dreaming, hadn’t you? But what had it been about? And why did it seem so hard to remember?

Maybe it was about your Master again, you realize as you exhale. No- ex Master now. But maybe it had been about him. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

You’re a Clone Killer. 

Eyebrows crease with a twitch. You’ve laid in bed with too much comfort now. It’s time to get up. Stars, but the bed is warm and your legs are tangled in your comforter just right. When’s the next time you’ll get to feel this relaxed and sleepy?

Must’ve been the worst Padawan in history. 

“Shit,” you whisper with closed eyes. Yes, now you’re more than certain that it’s time to get up. Comfort doesn’t matter today. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The restroom door hisses to a close behind you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you begin your sluggish march to the ships deck. You can already smell Greez’s cooking wafting from around the corner. What is that? Sausage and... is that eggs?

Your pants scuff against each other, sweatshirt twisting with the reach of your arm. As the floor transitions from metal to stiff rug, you pull your chair out. 

“Ah, good morning sleepyhead,” you hear Greez’s voice call out to you. Your eyes remain sleepy, gazing down at the table. Doesn’t even look present, Cal observes as his eyes flick over your face. 

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sun today,” Dritus continues from the stove. One of his four hands flick the pan over the stove up with an explosive sizzle. “Be careful you don’t make me feel bad, so I don’t feel inclined to give you more of my food.”

“I slept in too late,” you mutter, half to yourself. 

At the other side of the table, Cal’s stocky form is hunched over. One of his hands is wrapped around a cup on the table, which is covered in cold perspiration. Soft ginger hair falls back as he looks over you. You could feel his pretty, kaleidoscope eyes from the other side of the universe. He doesn’t say anything, though, and you’re too tired to play the “What’s He Thinking About?” game right now. 

“You’re damn right you did,” the Latero says. “Cal here was just about to go and check in on you.”

You swallow quickly, glancing up at the man parallel to you. Cal is looking over at Greez, given you a clear view of his jaw and the scar that stretches over his neck. He’s beautiful. He always has been. You can feel your ears start to burn, and you look away almost immediately. 

“Thanks,” you say instead, finally pulling your hand away from your neck. Without even realizing it, your intelligent orbs look to Cal again. This time, however, your eyes meet. Electric pulses run through you, tickling from your neck to your pelvis. And, true to your nature, you brake gazes immediately. “I think I’ll skip out on breakfast today.”

“Seriously?” Greez whirls around, dumbfounded. “But... breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

That’s true. Ever since you gained the privilege of having Greez Dritus the wanted Latero to cook for you, breakfast had been far more likeable. He always knows how to add the perfect amount of spice and flavor without coming off as overbearing. But there’s something in the back of your throat, crawling up to the tip of your tongue. A name of an old master, and the dream that you can’t remember. 

“I’m just not hungry,” you push yourself out of your stool and slide it back under the table. Cal watches your form jog down the steps and disappear into the cockpit, his lips parted and near pulling into a frown. 

“Wonder what her problem is,” Greez’s raspy voice calls into the air. 

“Let her be,” a mature female voice breaks as it rounds the corner. Cere emerges from the hallway by the stares, her watchful eyes also glued on the cockpit archway. “She’ll come around.”

Will you? Cal wonders. You’ve always been a bit tight lipped in the grand scheme of things, but today the anguish is peeling off of you like steam. You seem pale in the way that conveys sickness. The dark circles under your eyes are wise, but tired. Maybe you’re just ill. 

It’s not that far off. As you flip switches around on the console pointlessly, all you have to think about are these hands that disappointed your Master. Calloused, rough fingers. Raw palms from holding your saber. Clever, but never enough. 

You exhale through your nose, your shoulders sinking. 

Oh, that’s right. That’s what happened to your Master.

How could you have forgotten that?

“Rough night?”

You perk up at the sound of his voice, but don’t turn around. It’s not that you don’t want to look at Cal, it’s that you feel to ashamed of yourself to even try it. You don’t deserve to look upon him. 

“Just feeling sick,” you mutter so hoarse he can barely hear. 

“Is that the truth?”

Your eyes widen stiffly. One heel at a time, your feet turn around until you are facing your companion. 

Time slows as you look at Cal. His soft orange hair billows in the air conditioning, kaleidoscope eyes twinkling with wonder. The freckles, the jaw, the chapped pink lips. He is beautiful. The way he looks at you now makes you feel guiltier than usual. 

Why don’t you just tell him? Tell him you know the person who’s responsible for that scar on his stomach. Tell him you were trained by him. Tell him about your nightmare last night, how you woke up in cold sweats. But you can’t. You just can’t. 

“Yeah,” you say hoarsely, eyes glued to his. 

Cal steps forward suddenly, almost losing his balance. His soft, pink lips come dangerously close to yours. You can smell his scent, turning your jaw to meet him instinctively. But it was just an accident. 

He steps away to regain his balance. The only sound in the room is that of the air vents. 

He wasn’t going to kiss you. 

Cal stays still, firm. “I hope you feel better,” he says in the same tone as before, though far more sincere. 

And he turns away and walks out of the room, leaving you alone with only the air to comfort you.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The leaves crunch under boots as they do. Twigs snap, pebbles crumble. Dirt scuffs against each shoe. 

Above you, the Kashyyyk trees whisper in the wind, allowing pools of sunlight to fall in between the loose spaces of green. The breeze tickles at the skin on your arms. It’s a nice day. But this is still not enough to improve the sick feeling in your stomach. 

Maybe you really were just a failure of a padawan after all. 

“Hey,” the boy beside you calls. “Look up there.”

You raise your head, squinting through the thin, rainbow rays of sun. Up ahead of you, over a steep drop that could be anything from a river to an abyss, is a great mechanical building. It’s sleek and gray, standing out against the natural beauty. This itself is enough proof of Imperial presence. 

“I thought they would’ve left by now,” you mutter, slightly in awe. Birds fly over the fort as if it didn’t bother them for a second, and the waterfall nearby doesn’t cease its babbling. “Why haven’t they left by now?”

“Only one way to find out,” Cal tells you after some seconds of silence. 

Something rushes through the air then- a gust of wind that only you seem to feel. It’s haunting and low, like it has it’s own voice or musical theme of doom. It’s almost impossible to tell whether it’s a warning, a promise, or some kind of mockery, but it feels dark. More importantly, it feels like a message. But Cal doesn’t move a muscle. Only his orange locks billow in time with his lashes, which close slowly. 

“Wait,” you break the quiet. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

The boys eyes are furrowed when his head turns to you. His pale green eyes flash briefly in the sunlight, but the twinkle of confusion and curiosity remain after the flash disappears. “Why not?”

The rush of wind slows until you can barely feel it anymore. The words are on the tip of your dried up tongue, but you’re not even sure what they are. What can you say to explain your... your fear? It’s more than just intuition or a gut feeling. It’s something you know for a fact, and you have the evidence, but you can’t even hold it. 

“It’s dangerous,” you decide, your bottom lip shaking too quick to notice. You say it almost casually, almost as if it were obvious. And of course, it is. Thus the flaw in your attempt. 

“Most things are,” Cal replies. 

Just then, the pitter pattering of little metal feet tap against the dirt and mulch comes to life. It completely cuts away what little presence the ominous air had left, only allowing BD-1′s happy little whirs to clearly ring through. 

Cal���s hands rest on his hips as he turns his head to look at his partner. He squats to the ground with his little calm smile. “Would it make you feel better if I sent BD to scout ahead?”

It wouldn’t at all. All you can think about instead is your little scrapped friend getting his sliced clean off with a long, red blade. Cal wouldn’t even be able to fix him. 

“BD, go on ahead,” Cal tells the machine. He scratches along BD’s head for encouragement, and the creature doesn’t even seemed miffed before hopping off into the leaves and trees until he’s completely out of sight. 

“I don’t- I don’t think-” your hands ball to fists at your sides. A lump forms in your throat like an invisible bubble, or a heavy ball clogging your airway. 

“Y/N?” Cal’s brows furrow once more as he twists and stands again. “You look pale.”

Another wave of wind flows through. It’s the same as before- cold, threatening, filled with something angry and sad and warning you to never have to feel it for real. However, your partner feels it this time too. 

His eyes leave yours and drop to the ground behind him as he twists in concern, looking around for whatever could be the cause. Subconsciously, his right hand lifts from his side to the right side of his ribs. Your eyes widen in understanding, but you wish so badly it was anything but that. 

“Do you feel that?” Cal calls out to you, still trying to locate the presence that doesn’t even exist. 

Yes, you think as you watch the boys other hand slip over his saber. I feel it. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Anakin wasn’t always evil. Whether or not he’s even evil now is up for debate. But for as long as you knew him, in your eyes at least, he was your hero. Not because he helped you, which he didn’t, or because he wanted the best for you, which he didn’t care about. But because he was strong, and someone to look up to. He’s the knight in shining armor that every little boy wants to be like when they grow up, and the warrior every feminist wants to be equal to. Anakin Skywalker was, by all means, a dream. 

So then why is this the worst you’ve ever felt?

“Master?” your voice wheezes out. There’s a storm all around you, a personal tornado for the three of you that makes everything but roaring hard to hear. Rapid blinking helps to keep the dust from your eyes every few seconds, but not enough. It’s starting to sting.

“Stop,” you hear another voice say, but it’s muffled with chokes. “Stop...”

This isn’t Anakin. This is a man of metal- obsidian and iron and cooled magma. There’s not a single inch of flesh showing. The cape, whipping wildly in the wind, is the closest thing to organic. It’s tattered, and the wind gives the illusion of it bleeding away like inky smoke.

“Join me,” False Anakin calls. His fist clenched with determination, a red glow brightening up the area. “Serve your master.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

And from Cal’s position, you just look plain pretty. Kind of distraught, with faded eyes and slightly knitted brows paired with a frown. Your hair is sort of billowing in time with the storm around you, along side that weapon on your belt. Really, you look sad. 

Cal’s fingers dig into the dirt and sand beneath his body. His whole form feels like it’s going to rip away into dust, like Vader doesn’t want him there. And of course, he doesn’t. He hasn’t even given Cal a glance. That being said, his whole stomach feels entirely enflamed. Especially that one special place where he’d felt Vader’s touch before. Now Cal knows that you must’ve been touched by him as well. It’s the worst feeling in the world. 

“Don’t,” he chokes. Cal gets a mouthful of dirt in the process, but he doesn’t even register it. “Y/N-”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“-will come back from this.”

Your eyes open. They feel stiff and dry, like how you imagine a mummy’s would. The light over head is blinding and white, with flecks of rainbow bouncing off it at the sharper edges. You do not react in any way. 

Internal bleeding of the stomach, one impalement scar on your right side. There is a long, long series of blisters and torn skin across your shoulder from being tossed and dragged across the ground. Then there’s the slit over your left eye which makes it impossible to open. You might as well have lost it. 

Some people would’ve been happy to just be alive. Fighting Darth Vader? Fighting Anakin Skywalker? And surviving it? Well, not everyone gets that privilege. But for some reason the appreciation isn’t coming to you. Maybe you should’ve died back then as some kind of last apology. 

“I know they will.”

You hear footsteps from beyond the doorway become more and more faint, until you can’t even hear them at all. The metal door hisses open. There’s a few footsteps against the floor, then a sharp pause. 

Your head rolls to your right lazily. A young man stands before you. A cute redhead with a broad chest and wide, shocked pale green eyes. Underneath them are mauve rings- dark circles and bags- and chapped pink lips. 

Cal opens his mouth to speak, and then spins around. With the flick of your wounded fingers, the entrance to the room closes and seals itself shut with a click. The cute redhead is still, his back away from you. 

Maybe because of the loss of some other senses, your Jedi one’s have heightened. The intuition inside of you is reading his color- his entire aura- something you could’ve sworn you weren’t able to do before. There’s so much anxiety from him. Enough to make up from the lack of anxiety you have right about now. 

“You’re awake,” he speaks. You can sense his voice about to crack. “I should tell the others.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cal,” your raspy voice croaks. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

He turns around to look at you, one foot at a time. His eyes are downturned tiredly, but mostly from sadness. The corners of his lips are annoyed from your words. “You’ve been asleep for two weeks,” Cal says. “Didn’t know if you were coming back.”

You don’t say anything.

His use of the words ‘coming back’ sting. Just two simple words, which to you feel like they mean something far more deep and sinister. Almost as sinister as yourself. 

“Are you okay?” he proceeds to question, though you both know it’s just out of politeness. 

“I can’t see out of my eye.”

“Do you know why?”

You don’t move. You’re quiet yet again. 

Cal’s voice raises frustratingly. “Do you know why? You let someone put a lightsaber to your face just so you could smash in their helmet!”

“I don’t remember that.”

“He stabbed you in your stomach!”

Cal’s never raised his voice at you before. You wish you were more upset about it. His tone alone is enough to make a sinking weight appear in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t cry. You can barely feel anything but both relief and emptiness. Not once in those two weeks did you dream about either Anakin, or Vader. 

“I watched him pick you up and slam you on the ground! I watched you die about a million times out there!”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” you mutter hoarsely. And you mean that, too. 

“I thought that...”

Don’t. Don’t tell him. 

“I thought that I was going to hurt you.”

Silence fills the room from corner to corner. Even whatever air that once came from the vents has come to a complete halt. Maybe every system in the galaxy has stopped its turn. 

“What?” Cal asks, now much softer. He takes a gentle step towards you, his eyes desperately locked to your own.

You glance down before back to him. “I was his apprentice before the purge. Don’t ask Cere about it- he never talked about me. I doubt there was even paperwork to confirm it. I thought this was coming but... I wasn’t sure.”

Cal takes another step forward. 

“He never liked me. And then on Kashyyyk... he...” You swallow down the shame for a moment. “He told me he wanted me to be his apprentice again. For real this time.”

“So you fought him,” Cal partially pieces together. 

You swallow again and look down to your hands. 

“Cal, I fought him because I wanted to go with him. I saw my- I saw the future he was talking about. It was good for me. I was happy... sort of.”

He’s finally close enough to sit on the end of the bench that you didn’t even process lying on. There’s concern in his eyes as he listens, and he doesn’t dare take them off your face. It makes you feel like even more of a coward. 

“But I didn’t see you there, too. I didn’t see anyone there. I thought maybe I... I thought maybe I had killed you.”

Cal opens his parched lips slightly, and then closes them. 

“And I really don’t want to kill you.”

Cal looks away. From here, sitting up slightly so you didn’t choke in your sleep, you can make out freckles on his neck. They stretch over his tendons, across his jawline. They’ll no doubt stretch over that scar from his jaw down on the other side. His long lashes move as he blinks. His hair looks softer than ever. 

“After the battle I carried you away. After it was done you just... looked at me. And then you collapsed, and I had to carry you.”

Silence. 

Cal gets up. 

“Cal?” you call, louder than you meant. 

The boy turns back to look at you. 

“I...”

Is he prettier than before?

“Do you hate me?”

Cal creases his brows. 

“Do you... are you going to talk to me again?”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him speak. 

“Don’t say it, if you don’t mean it. I was trained by the most dangerous person in the galaxy. By your biggest enemy. I... lied to you about it. I almost killed you, Cal. You can hate me.”

“Do you think I hate you?”

Your eye squints, and finally it glosses over as it wells with tears. “Yeah.”

Cal Kestis. Man of your dreams. Hero of everything. Angel of infinity. Please, don’t hate me. You have every right to, I know. But please- please don’t. 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he finally whispers, looking down at the floor. “Maybe you should’ve told me, but... I think deep down I already knew.”

A questioning look appears over your features, but Cal answers before you can ask. “You’d been acting off for weeks, Y/N. Those nightmares were about Vader, weren’t they.”

“Yeah. They were... Do you... think of me any differently?”

Please. 

“...No. I don’t know if I could ever do that to you.”

“I couldn’t think of you differently either,” you say after a moment. You throat is getting scratchy, but it’s hard to care. 

“I care about you, Y/N,” he tells you, sincere but calm. “You know that don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t have carried me if you didn’t care, Cal.”

“Y/N on the morning of this whole thing I wanted to kiss you,” he snaps, his hands limply swinging with urgency. “I should’ve kissed you.”

So many emotions in one conversation. 

“You can still kiss me now that I’m clean with you.”

Cal looks at you for a long time, his tired, bright eyes searching for something in your stillness. Then he looks down. 

“It’s okay, Cal. It’s part of my atonement.”

He looks at you for a long time again. The corner of his lips twitch upwards for just a second. It puts you at ease somewhat, with a warm feeling spreading in your stomach finally. 

“You’ve got nothing to atone for,” Cal says. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N.”

You have nothing to say. No words come to your dry tongue, although your lips hang open like something will come out. Nothing does. You just look at your redhead, who’s tired and distraught, but has more clarity and love than he ever has in his entire life. He won’t raise his voice to you again. 

Your palm dances again as you look to away. The door finally opens again, and Cal forgot that you had initially even caged him in here. 

“You can go now.”

It’s quiet. You can hear shuffling, slow footsteps like maybe he doesn’t want to leave. “Can I kiss you when I get back?”

Even while looking at the wall right next to you, your face goes hot and pink. 

“Maybe,” your husky voice answers. And when you turn to look back at him, he’s already looking at you with a genuine smile like a little boy getting a big present that they can’t believe. That’s how he sees it, anyway. 

“I don’t hate you, Y/N,” he suddenly says. “I could never hate you.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Idk if I’m happy with this or not? I ran into a bunch of writers block with this I don’t know why. Sorry it took so long to put out anyway. I also might change it to better fit the request because that’s really the most important thing to me and with finishing it after literal months I might’ve lost sight of the whole point. Idk though. Cal is a cutie. 

TAGLIST: @omg-we-really-doo @chokemeanakin @anakinswhore @haztory @fanficsforheartandsoul @kit-jpg @ahsokatano-thetogruta

[animatedarchives]

Can I request an imagine where midoriya cheats on the reader and bakugo finds her crying in the halls and is there for her and they grow a romantic relationship? Lots of angst and fluff pls! Thank u!

author’s note: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! i love soft katsuki and i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted but i hope you like it!! <3

TRUST FALL

— 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

genre: angst at first, fluff at the end :>

warnings: mentions of cheating

word count: 1.2k words

“Izuku… Why?”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”

“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”

You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.

Why? Why did you leave me?

The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.

You leaned your head back against the wall, desperately trying to pull yourself together. You felt and looked like an absolute wreck. Your hair that was perfectly styled this morning was now disheveled, acting as a curtain that attempted to shield you from the hurts of the world. The trails on your cheeks held traces of all the tears you had shed. Your throat was parched for water and your eyes burned from the overproduction of saline.

Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-

“Oi.”

Crap.

“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”

You have got to be joking. The universe just had to give you someone you knew. You shifted your body so that your back was facing him and swiftly wiped your eyes in a pitiful attempt to hide your misery.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.

“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.

You’ve never been very close to Bakugo and usually just tried to avoid him. It wasn’t because you hated him - because you didn’t - but you weren’t exactly very fond of him either. You just never appreciated the way he treated your now ex-boyfriend. Being fiercely protective of him, you were always the first one to come to Izuku’s defence and never backed down from a fight - whether verbal or physical - even if it was against Bakugo, one of the strongest, most hot-headed people in class. After multiple scoldings from Iida and your teachers, you decided it would be best to just avoid him altogether.

Eventually, as time went on and your relationship with Izuku began to get more serious, Bakugo’s bullying began to cease and he also started to keep his distance from the two of you. You found it slightly unusual at first, given he had years to stop picking on Izuku but chose not to until now. You weren’t complaining though. Whenever you and Izuku were together, you would also catch him glaring daggers at the two of you, more so at Izuku, but he never approached. You knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of you - he was hardly afraid of anything. Could it be that he possibly respected you for standing up to him? Your curiosity reaped no answers. Not that you cared much, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t interested in knowing the reason for his change in behaviour.

After your outburst, Bakugo’s footsteps stopped about three metres away from your curled up body, letting a tense silence settle between you. Even with your back turned, you could feel his eyes locked on your frame, watching your every move.

“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.

Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.

“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT BAKUGO,” you snapped, standing up and finally facing him. Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face, but he didn’t look away. “YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE THAT REALLY IS WHAT I AM. WEAK AND PATHETIC.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“I’m constantly there for others and I always try to give everyone my all but in the end, who’s there for me? No one! I’m always the one that’s suffering, but people don’t notice because no one actually stops to think about me!”

“But Deku-”

“IZUKU CHEATED ON ME!” your cries echoed down the empty hallway. Hearing yourself say it out loud finally cemented the reality you were denying for so long. A lump started to form in your throat and you could feel your eyes starting to well up with tears again.

Bakugo’s body became stiff, a million thoughts running through his mind. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flash with anger, but you couldn’t see clearly through the thin film impairing your vision.

You choked out a sob. “I thought that someone had finally accepted me, finally acknowledged that I was worthy of being loved. But in the end, even the person I gave my everything to thought I wasn’t good enough.” You inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t. A wave of exhaustion finally hit you and you slid back down against the wall, curling into a ball and resting your chin on your knees. You were just so tired of everything.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s not like you even care anyway.” You watched as an ant crawled across the space between you and Bakugo. Even ants had a colony, others they could depend on. And you? You had nobody.

“I do.”

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt as his words reached your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed and you raised your head to look up at him through your wet lashes. You had been here for so long that the sun was beginning to set, bathing Bakugo in a soft peachy glow.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.

“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”

You blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the last person in the world you thought you would be pouring your heart out to, just said he cared about you.

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.

“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.

Well, how could you? Words were just words after all. Izuku consistently told you that he loved you and still he shattered your heart. Trusting people just wouldn’t be so easy anymore. Your disbelief became apparent when you broke his gaze and pulled your knees closer to your chest.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You never let me finish, by the way,” he said. You made no move to respond, but you were listening to every word he was saying, weighing the sincerity of each one.

“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.

“You have never backed down when it came to protecting Deku against me. You weren’t afraid to stand up and challenge me. In fact, you are always at the frontlines, defending people you care so deeply about. That doesn’t make you weak. It shows that you’re strong. Putting others before yourself is a trait that every great hero has. And I admired you for that. A lot.”

Your mind was whirring. Not only were the things he was saying difficult to believe, but the words coming out of Bakugo's own mouth being anything but foul was so terrifyingly uncharacteristic of him that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true.

“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Which is why…?” you urged him to continue. You weren’t sure if it was the radiant sun that gave a reddish tint to his cheeks or if you were actually witnessing the infamously brash Bakugo Katsuki blushing.

“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.

“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

He groaned loudly.

“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.

Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.

But the more you mulled it over, the more it started to make sense. The explanation for Bakugo’s behaviour towards you and Izuku could finally be explained: he was jealous. Seeing you with anyone but himself infuriated him, especially if it was the boy who was effortlessly gaining everything he had ever wanted. That was why Bakugo continued tormenting Izuku, only he never expected it would be you that he would end up fighting as you stepped in to defend your boyfriend. As your relationship became more serious, Bakugo was forced to step back out of respect, but he never stopped glowering whenever he saw you two together. The reason he stopped tormenting Izuku was not because he was afraid of you, nor was it because he respected your determination to defend the boy you loved. It was because it would break his heart to be the cause of your distress. Everything he did… was because of you.

“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.

Part of you felt relieved to see Bakugo return to his familiar aggressive self, but another part somehow knew that he was only doing it to cover up the fact that he was deeply embarrassed. The thought made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. You valued the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down.

And you wanted to trust him too. But with everything that had happened, you just weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to form a coherent string of words that could accurately express everything you thought and felt.

He watched intently as you bit your lower lip and fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. Although the suspense was eating him alive, he respected the fact that you needed to collect your thoughts and waited patiently for your answer. Besides, it meant that you were seriously considering his confession, which was all he could have hoped for. Finally, you got to your feet and made your way over to him, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.

“I really appreciate your honesty but… I’m just really unsure. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but…” you exhaled shakily. “I’m just scared. I can’t just keep giving my heart to people I’m not sure would treasure it… I just can’t. I need to protect myself too. I don’t want my heart to get broken again. I-”

He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours, cutting you off. Caught by surprise, you weren’t sure how to respond. But as he kissed you, you could feel how much he meant every single thing he said. Suddenly, they weren’t just words anymore.

The kiss was soft and gentle as if he were afraid to hurt you, especially when you were already in so much pain. Yet, he never lacked passion, because he wanted to prove how true his feelings were for you. But above all, the kiss… his love…

It was sincere.

Genuine.

Honest.

You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but slowly willing to give love another try.

Bakugo broke the kiss and leaned back to admire the face he thought was so beautiful. His strong hands traced down your face to your shoulders and finally came to a rest at your arms, rubbing your skin soothingly.

“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.

You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.

“Which is why,” he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up to look at him. For the first time, you saw his eyes up close. They weren’t the blazing hot embers everyone associated with his rageful and dangerous behaviour. Right now, under the warmth of the setting sun, they were the soft comfort of red satin that whispered a love so pure, you couldn’t help but feel enraptured by them. His eyes burned, but it was far from malicious. They burned with desire for one thing alone.

You.

“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”

© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.

[invincibleinck]

Rose Thorns

More Beclawed!Rinzler. Fic below the break. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31470140

Rinzler dragged himself to shore, waterlogged and shivering. He slumped into the sand, left hand twitching, claws plunging through the grains. For a while he just laid in the surf, wheezing on water and on the verge of shut down mode. His helmet split open and he gasped his first free breath in cycles.

When he'd finally mustered the strength to lift his head, he saw the portal looming above him, half floating in the gloom. It was dimmed, indicating that the gateway was closed. He could only hope that the other User had made it out beforehand.

It was too late for the older Flynn.

With a great, trembling effort, he heaved himself to his feet, his one hand leaving deep gashes in the ground. He looked at the shape in the pixels, then at the hand that'd caused it, and finally, at the deadened portal. Though the surrounding Grid had been decimated by the explosion, the island itself remained relatively intact. Flawed, somehow, but intact. Like someone had clumsily copied it, atomized it, and then reassembled everything from the pieces.

It struck him that this was a monument to a bygone era. Never again would Users grace the Grid with their presence. Or, at least, not in the same way. Certainly not Flynn. He'd felt the force of Reintegration beneath the waves, had known in an instant that his friend was gone.

How fitting that he'd end up here, too late to help him.

...

Cycles passed without incident. Rinzler settled near the portal, camping in caves and ranging the island during the day-cycle. He nursed his wounds and suckled energy in quiet corners. It was a monotonous, lonely existence.

Still, there were worse locations to land.

The islet had a little spring of energy and plenty of places to shelter. It was a pretty place, with sweeping structures, graceful arches, and shimmering walkways. There were flying buttresses, twisting colonnades, and hollow, hexagonal facades, all lined with light. Best of all, it was isolated from the rest of the Grid, ideal for avoiding his fellow programs.

The only downside was the memories.

It was a problem with which Rinzler frequently grappled. The portal was both his sanctuary and his hell. Every light line evoked Flynn's voice, whether that be witty remarks or sincere farewells. He was plagued by memories that were not entirely his. It felt like it'd all happened to some other person, like his life was divided into two halves—pre-rectification and post-rectification, Tron and Rinzler.

But which half was he in now? Who was he now?

More often than not, he found himself in the shadow of a crumbling edifice, cradling his claws in contemplation.

Perhaps it was for the best that Flynn couldn't see him now. Not like this.

...

A beam of blinding light broke his solitude.

In defiance of all expectations, the portal was lit once more. He'd been huddling in an antre at the time, but upon seeing it, he scrambled to the top shelf of the alcove.

Two figures emerged from its rays. Usually Flynn rezzed at the Arcade entrance in the city, but not these two. They must've found him from the Outside, then reprogrammed the portal to send them here, where he was closest.

He recognized them immediately.

"I'm Quorra, and this is Sam," said the first figure.

"We've met," Sam-Flynn said tersely.

Guarding his expression, Tron regarded the two visitants. Sam still bore his father's face and still carried the wounds from their last encounter. Tron's eyes traced the deep nicks along his cheek and jaw, like a mirror to the scars on Tron's left. An uncomfortable guilt began to claw at his insides.

The woman, on the other hand, was more puzzling. He'd seen her once before, but she was different now. Her shorn hair was a little longer, though no less uneven. Her light lines seemed brighter and her face shone with newfound confidence. There was something else as well, something that Tron couldn't quite classify.

User? ISO? His scans kept sending back conflicting information.

She approached him with an arm stretched out, not to ward him away, but in invitation. The act threw him completely off-kilter. No one ever wanted to touch him, and when they did, it was usually because he'd done something wrong. Touch meant pain.

A horrible growl tore from Rinzler's ruined throat. At the same time, his circuits flashed crimson. His eyes measured the distance between them and he took two steps back to compensate for the loss. The distance made him feel safer, if only slightly.

"Quorra-" Fast as sparks, Sam put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's just go. It's not worth it."

Reluctantly, Quorra rolled back on her heels, and Rinzler's snarls died down. Her eyes softened but Rinzler balked at the sadness inside them. He didn't need anyone's sympathy, nor did he want it.

"Another time, maybe," she ventured, allowing Sam to steer her away.

"Another time," Sam agreed.

Neither one of them turned their backs until they were almost directly under the code stream. Tron watched as each loosened their discs and held them into the beam.

Over her shoulder, Quorra said, "I'm sorry if I startled you-!" The words were only half out of her mouth before she was swept up through the funnel. One nano there was a body, and the next there was nothing. Only light was left behind.

Sam-Flynn also paused just before passing into the portal's light. The relief building in Tron at their departure stuttered in his chest. Unbidden, he felt the hackles rising along his neck. Sam seemed to sense his unease, because his gaze never quite moved above Tron's neck and his heels scuffed against the plateau.

"For the record, that thing I said earlier- it didn't come out right." Eyes flashing, he drew himself up and set his shoulders. In that moment, he'd never looked more like a Flynn. "You are worth it... Maybe not the scratches, though. Those hurt like a bitch."

...

The second time Sam-Flynn and Quorra visited, they brought gifts.

"It's called a rose," said Quorra, extending the flower like it was a peace offering. "They grow in the User world, and Users keep them around because they're pretty.

Tron stood like a statue, flummoxed by this otherworldly bloom. Despite his attempts at aloofness, a prickle of interest coursed through his code. He cocked his head to the side but did not approach. Quorra took the gesture as an invitation and moved boldly forward, heedless to Sam sputtering behind her. Step by step, she closed the expanse between them.

At last, Tron's curiosity got the better of him. He met Quorra halfway and stretched forth his dominant hand. Out of reflex, the claws came out, and he held back for fear of cutting her. He swallowed, counting the nanos until the prongs retracted, hyper-aware of the woman's patient scrutiny.

He gripped the 'rose' by its stem, just under the bud, and balanced it precariously between the pads of two fingers. Somewhere in the background Sam made a noise and Rinzler reacted without thinking. He tore back his hand like it'd been scalded, taking the rose with him. Quorra didn't flinch.

Gently, Tron examined his new prize. He brushed the bulb with an index claw before plucking a single petal, marvelling at its colour. Red, like his old circuits. Red, like the blood shed by Sam-Flynn in that arena.

His finger moved downward, dislodging the petal in the process. It fluttered to the floor as he caressed the spiked stalk. Every movement was met with a bump as his nail travelled over tiny thorns embedded in the stem. Barbs, so much like the talons gracing his left hand. Next to the rose, they almost looked... elegant, more like an adornment than a disfigurement.

So many pretty things in the User World...

Over time his growl softened into a sort of chirring. He cradled the small sprig to his chest, oblivious to the thorns plucking at his circuits or the stares from his guests. Sam's forced verve vanished in the face of a genuine smile, which was mirrored tenfold by his companion.

Quorra spoke softly, "If you'd like, we can come back and bring some more...? Would you like that?"

Rinzler's silence was all the assent she needed.

[sweeethinny]

This is random, but I wanted to say how much I enjoy that you wrote Al as gay but didn't make him in love with Scorpius! It's a friendship I love. Any chance you'd write more about them? :)

Mah, I took too long with this, I'm so sorry!

but i finally wrote it, and i hope you like it <3

AO3

------

Because that's what friends do

"You're an idiot. She doesn't care about you."

"How do you know?"

"Because she likes my brother." Albus said, rolling his eyes at the fact that his friend is the only one denying it. Even Lily noticed, when last week they saw the two of them in the garden in the afternoon, she was sitting against a tree with a book in her hand, and he was lying on her lap sleeping.

It was obvious that they had long since stopped being friends.

"Well, you could be wrong," Scorpius shrugged, sitting at the Slytherin table but his eyes focused on the table in front of them, where hair as blond as his stood out.

It was early, there weren't many people there, Albus didn't even want to be up so much before their class time, but they had to study and he had promised he would go this time. He almost always preferred to stay asleep, even if he had to study late into the night afterwards.

Albus worked best at night.

"Man, she probably sees you as her boyfriend's younger brother, as she sees me,"

"They don’t date." Scorpius stared at Albus like a hungry owl. He sighed, giving up on trying to help.

They had already had that conversation many times, and they always ended up falling out because to Albus it was obvious that Mira didn't even remember Scorpius' existence, but his friend always said that he had never liked someone so much to understand what he felt.

"All I have is hope, you don't know what it's like."

Which was true.

Albus had never liked anyone, at least not in a loving way, but it was because he was… afraid.

The first time he realized he had found a man too handsome, much more so than his classmates, that's when Ben Johnson was revealed as a new player for Puddlemere and appeared shirtless on the cover of Witch Weekly magazine.

The image of him smiling with that beautiful face of his, and his body all tanned, strong and sweaty, stayed in his mind for much longer than it should have. And Albus still had his poster because his arms looked huge in that uniform and heavens, how could anyone be so handsome?

But of course no one knew that, because it seemed wrong that Albus should spend so much time liking a man when his friends seemed to be obsessed with the newest Harpies. Okay, they were pretty, Albus would never deny that, but not… that pretty. The Puddlemere guys were much more interesting to him, and Albus decided that was very wrong.

And he wouldn't even get into the fact that Elio, the new Hufflepuff chaser, was probably the prettiest boy Albus had ever seen at Hogwarts.

Elio was a year older than them, he was in his fourth year, and he was so kind it was irritating. Albus and he ended up meeting in the library at night when he went there to study, the Hufflepuff also seemed to agree that night was the best time to read and do the things that needed to be done, and whether for lack of friends or because he really wanted, Elio invited Albus to sit with him.

It was just the two of them there, and it was almost close to curfew, so not even the nerds were in the library, and as much as Albus didn't want to raise expectations, on other days, Elio also invited him to study. Which made it a very difficult situation for his poor heart.

"Are you listening to me?" Scorpius complained, glaring at Albus like he was crazy. "I asked you if you want to go to the gardens?"

''Why would you- oh…'' Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Albus saw James arriving at the Gryffindor table, waving to him before taking a seat next to Mira, who laid her head on his shoulder as he passed his arm around her waist.

Albus wanted to have James' confidence.

"Come on, it should be nicer out there." He tucked the books into his bag, wanting to tell Scorpius that he'd warned, but not thinking it would be very kind of him. He wouldn't like it if he did that.

''Where were you yesterday, by the way?'' Scorpius eyed him with a smirk, walking beside him out of the hall, looking as if he hadn't just seen the girl he liked showing affection to another guy. "You're full of secrets lately, should I be jealous?"

"Don't be an idiot," Albus pushed him away, chuckling softly and feeling his cheeks flush. ''I was studying.''

"You seem to have become quite fond of potions all of a sudden, Freya said there's probably someone involved in this… You'd tell me if it was true, wouldn't you?"

''Of course.'' Albus looked away, not because he didn't trust Scorpius to keep his secret, but because... if he spoke it out loud, it would come true, and he didn't quite know how to handle it yet. It was weird.

For years he had envied James his confidence and how extroverted Lily was, thinking that if it was them there, they would have no problem with just taking it on for the whole world and not caring what others thought about it.

Albus wished he could talk to his dad about it, because Harry would probably know how to handle it, but it would be hard to ask for advice without telling him that he liked boys.

"Hm… I wasn't so confident in that answer." The two sat down behind one of the greenhouses, like they used to.

‘’Where is Freya? I thought she was going to be here.'

‘’Don't change the subject, Potter... So, are you liking someone? Is that why you've come to love potions now and go to the library to study every night?'' Scorpius dropped his own bag on the floor, turning to him with eyes wide with curiosity, looking excited at the prospect of him having a date.

“There's no one.” Albus opened his bag, not wanting him to see his expression because he knew he wasn't a good liar.

‘’Come on, Al, please tell me. I promise I won't laugh.”

“Why would you laugh?” He grimaced.

‘’I don't know, maybe you're liking a hateful person and that's why you don't want to tell? Or… I don't know Albus, but it doesn't matter, please tell me. I told you about Mira, and she's your brother's girlfriend.” Scorpius shrugged.

‘’Aha! So you admit she's his girlfriend.”

‘’Okay, yes, I admit it. So, will this encourage you to tell me? Is it someone I know?'' Albus didn't quite know what to say, but he was spared that, because before he even opened his mouth, a group of Hufflepuffs passed by, probably heading to their morning Quidditch training, and in the midst of that jumble of voices and laughter was Elio, with his perfect brown hair in a bun, his uniform highlighting everything that was best in his body, and that smile that made Albus sleep smiling - even though he thought that was the dumbest thing of all.

His tanned skin seemed to glow against the yellow of his uniform, and Merlin helped him, he looked like a Sun God.

Albus was pathetic.

"Hey, Potter!" He greeted him, for the first time, in front of other people - but Albus usually flinched from him when he saw he was with his friends.

He thought it would combust.

"Hey, Perlman!" Albus nodded, trying not to smile too much.

Scorpius didn't say anything as the group walked away, it hadn't been a big deal, Elio hadn't declared himself to him or kissed him in front of everyone, but even so Albus felt close to screaming with happiness.

"Oh…" Scorpius was still looking in the direction where the group had gone, blinking nonstop. Albus was ready to say it wasn't at all what he was thinking and came up with some female name to say it was who he was in love with, but Scorpius wouldn't let him. ‘’Elio?! Why didn't you tell me before?” Was he…smiling?

‘’Scorpius, it's nothing-’’

''Change of plans, we're not going to study, we're going to go watch them train.'' Scorpius didn't even seem to think before throwing their books back into his bag, soon getting up and pulling Albus along with him, who was still a little mortified.

He wasn't going to the field.

''We will not go.''

‘’Of course we will! By Merlin's beard, why didn't you tell me? Elio is the nicest guy I've ever met, of course you'd fall in love with him, and I can't deny he's handsome.” Scorpius shrugged. ‘’Have you ever kissed?

"No!" Albus blushed, because he didn't want to admit that he'd thought about this much more than acceptable. "Are you… are you okay with that?"

"With what?" Scorpius blinked in confusion, pulling him toward the field.

‘’With me liking a boy... I mean... you don't have to pretend it's okay-’’

‘’Why would I need to lie? Look, Al, I'll be honest with you, I already suspected, you didn't hide the Ben poster so well,” Albus blushed even more, but Scorpius continued. ‘’But it's okay to like guys, you know? You're free to kiss whoever you want, and if you don't, that's okay too, it's your life…” He shrugged. "I'm your best friend, you don't need to hide these things from me." Scorpius' smile faltered. ‘’I'm still your best friend, am I not? Or has Elio already taken my place?’’

"Don't be an idiot." Albus pushed him again, laughing along with him. "You're still my best friend, even if you wake me up early to study."

‘’Well, now we found a new hobby for you to do; Watching Elio being hot in the air.” He said all dramatic, hands up, as if showing the title of a movie in the air. ‘’Much better than studying History, be honest.’’

"Much better." Albus smiled. "Thank you," he said sincerely, because that burden seemed less heavy now that he was sharing it with someone.

''Is nothing. That's what friends do, isn't it?” Scorpius smiled, pulling Albus into a hug, not seeming to mind the people passing by and looking at them suggestively. "Come on, you still need to tell me if you've ever flirted with him."

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 10:  Reparations

AN:  Yaaaaaayyyyy I got this one done.  For some reason I’ve been in a weird spot where I write more on my phone and my focus is better when I write on my phone, but I’m also super vulnerable to typos because AUTOCORRECT and its just harder for me to spot on the smaller screen with the tiny text, so excuse any typos.

Characters:  Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader, Erwin, Petra, Oluo (Mentioned), Eld (Mentioned)

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings:  Language.  Ikr, we just got super tame after a wiiild ride.

Word Count:  5124

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

“I’ll admit, it would have been nice to know ahead of time that you were going to hijack the interrogation like that to antagonize her.”

Levi ignored the pointed jab at his actions down in the dungeons, gaze instead roaming around and taking stock of the people they past in a surveillance instinct too ingrained into his being by now for him to shut it off even going down the street towards a tea shop.

Considering L/N could hear so far out, even when she wasn’t paying attention, Erwin and Levi had decided to leave headquarters entirely to have this conversation.  Which was why they were now headed for a tea shop instead of Erwin’s office to discuss something so confidential.  Or at least their opinions on the situation, not necessarily the information itself.

"Did you at least get what you wanted out of it?" Erwin asked as they took seats at one of the outside tables.

"I did.  Mostly.  You?"

"I was skeptical when you told me, but after that little display of hers, she's clearly not human.  Not anymore."  Erwin leaned back in his seat and appraised Levi, their conversation pausing momentarily as they placed their order with the waitress that came outside to check on them.  Once she went back inside, Erwin continued.  "If you have more questions, why didn't you ask them before we left?"

"It had nothing to do with why we were there.  Personal curiosity. And it didn't seem like the time to ask."

Especially after he'd goaded her like that, making jabs at painful memories for her until she reacted, throwing harsh accusations at her semi-blindly and seeing if anything stuck.  The last thing she would want to do would be to give clarifying details about her past traumas to satiate his curiosity.

Her tale made her origins make more sense, but there were a few details that still weren't so clear to him.

The way she explained it, she was attacked and turned by a vampire the night before--for reasons unknown, he noticed.  She hadn't said why she was turned, or by who.  She'd actually glossed over that part and moved on--and then went home, not knowing what happened to her, thinking she was sick.  Her friend came to visit her, Y/N lost control, attacked and killed her, then fled.  He was sure there were details to make the tale far more gruesome, but this was what he knew for sure without letting his imagination run wild.

But then she'd shown up dead a few days later as well.  That was the part he was trying to figure out.

“Some deaths, okay, fine, I'll come back from it.”

So, she ran away after the initial panic, and then came back solely to fake her death so they wouldn't keep looking for her.

And by fake her death, she went for a...temporary death, something she would come back from.

But why go so far as to let herself be buried?  It was a closed casket funeral, so she could have snuck out before they sealed the casket and no one would have known.  Why wait?

He hadn't forgotten the fear and trauma in her eyes when she'd mentioned being buried alive was one of her deepest fears.  And now the mental image in his mind of a woman clawing desperately at a coffin, screaming for help while no one could hear her had a face to go with it, the face of someone he knew, no less.

It was humanly impossible to break out of a grave and crawl your way out.  But if you had vampire strength, and every time you suffocated from the lack of oxygen or the dirt crushing down on you and maybe even getting into your lungs...then it was possible. So long as you died a few times on the way up.

Shit...something like that had to do some damage to a person.

Not to mention what came after.  Forty years living in the Underground, roughly.  He'd only been down there a little over half the time she had.  And he hadn't spent it like she had--skulking in the shadows killing people because what she was demanded she kill to survive no matter where she was, and she couldn't go above ground not because it was denied to her, but because if she did she would literally die.  Yeah, he'd killed plenty of people in the Underground as well, but far less, and for a reason that was entirely different even if it could be worded the same.  He killed in fights because the Underground was that dangerous, or he was protecting people he cared about.  She had to actively hunt and kill people to...feed.

If she'd been in the Underground before he was even born...he wondered if they had ever crossed paths, and he just didn't remember.

Hell, with her criteria for who she hunted and killed, he was surprised she hadn't killed Kenny in all that time with him Underground.

Or maybe she had, after Kenny left.  It wasn't like Levi would know.  Though he was fairly certain the man had gone topside, which would mean out of her reach and away from her hunting grounds.

If only there was an alternative to her diet.  She’d laid out why it couldn’t be helped, and he understood that, they were good reasons.  But still, if there was another way...

“You're thinking about something rather hard over there, Levi,” Erwin commented, and Levi realized he’d been staring intently at the table and had even failed to notice that the waitress was in the process of delivering their tea.  Erwin was also watching him, though his hands were still in motion, his analytical gaze fixated on Levi’s still form.  Shaken out of his thoughts, Levi leaned back so he wasn’t leaning forward intently anymore, picking up his teacup to start drinking before it got cold.  Erwin waited until the waitress left to continue talking.  “Is it something I should know about her?  Another hunch, maybe?  The last one was mostly right.”

Levi snorted softly at that.  Mostly right his ass.  He’d been thinking murder and treason and assassinations, someone out to get them, someone seeking to harm people in the Scouts.  Ulterior motives and selfishness, malice.

Maybe the murder hadn’t been that far off, considering her body count, if he did the math right in his head.  And maybe she had been hiding a secret.  Perhaps she was dangerous, but so was Levi.  It didn’t mean she was an enemy.

“No,” he said curtly, putting an end to Erwin thinking Levi might be holding out on him regarding his suspicions after how off they’d both been about this situation.  “Like I said, it doesn't have to do with whether or not she's trustworthy and if she should be in the Scouts.  Just personal curiosity.”

“So you believe her?  About her intentions?” Erwin asked casually before taking a sip from his cup, eyes cast down as he spoke but flickering up to gauge Levi’s reaction once he finished speaking.

Levi eyed him because of the look on his face, but answered nonetheless.  “...I do.  She was sincere down there, some would say too honest.  Most people try to hide the fact they’ve killed hundreds--thousands--of people, or that they could kill the people who didn’t trust them without blinking an eye, but she was upfront about it.  She didn’t have to be.  She’s dangerous, that’s a reality no matter how you look at it, but she’s attempting to channel that into helping instead of just causing damage.”  Levi sighed, setting down his cup.  “I assumed a lot about her intentions and where she came from, and it's going to bite me in the ass.”

And he was probably going to have to put some effort into making amends after all this--especially with how he’d antagonized her down there and clearly crossed a boundary.  Several boundaries, actually.  And now that the moment had passed, the guilt was starting to settle in.  He’d accused her about some harsh stuff, some of which she was sensitive about, given her reactions.  She was the one who had to live with what she was, so he doubted someone going after the very things you might cling to in order to retain your humanity was something anyone would take kindly to.  After she saved his life--even if it had also been her that had almost killed him to begin with--after she protected him from herself and other vampires, even if he wasn’t aware, after she’d gone out of her way to learn from and appease the entire squad, after going through years of training to get where she was now, after putting so much at risk when she could have stayed safely in the shadows, after trying so hard to find a place topside, he’d jabbed at pretty much everything.  Her basic motives, her humanity, her intentions, her personality, everything.

He had a lot of damage control to do moving forward if they were going to keep working together.  He sincerely hoped he’d only damaged the well and hadn’t poisoned the water.  A damaged well he could fix, but a poisoned water supply…

Levi’s gaze narrowed at Erwin as he realized the other man still hadn’t said anything, his suspicions solidifying.

“What about you?  Do you think she’s a risk you’re willing to take?” Levi asked, echoing her words from down in the dungeon Levi had immediately known would catch Erwin’s attention.

“I am a man who likes a good gamble,” Erwin said with a bittersweet smile, resting his cheek on his fist as he considered the situation before them.  “As long as she’s not attacking other Scouts, she’s trying to keep her bloodlust under control, she’s not causing problems for or bringing more danger upon the Scouts...I don’t see why we shouldn’t let her stay.  From the sounds of it, having a vampire willingly join our ranks wanting to use all those abilities to help our cause is a once in a lifetime chance.  She’s offering it on a silver platter.  As long as she can keep herself under control, which she’s been able to do so far, I say we take her up on her offer.”

“And if she can’t?  If something happens and she loses control?” Levi asked, eyebrows raised.  She’d said it herself, she was a threat, there was always a chance something could happen, and that shouldn’t be forgotten.  But what would they do if she did slip up with no sign of being able to correct herself before it got out of hand?

“Then she’ll be our responsibility to take care of,” Erwin said evenly, gazing at Levi in a way that made him believe Levi would be the one to take care of her if she stepped out of line.  He had the best chance, yes, but it would still be risky.  “Hopefully we won’t have to kill her if anything goes wrong, she’s valuable, and it would be a huge setback to lose her vampire abilities...but if it ever comes to that…”

“It won’t be a problem,” Levi said flatly.  He meant that in the matter of conflict of interest, not that killing her if it ever came to that wouldn’t be difficult.

Erwin nodded.  “She stays in the Scouts, then.  I’ll have to factor in all this new information about where best to put her.  She probably shouldn’t be anywhere near medical, for her sanity’s sake.  And Levi?”  Levi fixed him with a stare as if to ask what the hell was up with his change of tone, which Erwin ignored.  “Considering the strangling tension between the two of you down in the dungeon, are you going to ease up now that you have the story--for the most part--or do I need to switch her to a different squad?”

Levi scoffed.  “I’m not going to apologize for being angry about the fact that she kills people, Erwin.”

“It's not like she has much of a choice, from the sound of it.  And she’s doing rather well, given her situation.  A lot of thought had to have gone into coming topside and joining the Scouts, how to pull it off.  She was ready with those questions, and considering she wasn’t planning on us figuring out what she was, that means she already went over those questions herself.  She’s going with what she believes to be the best route, and considering she’s more of an expert on the subject than we’ll probably ever be…”

Levi waved him off--he didn’t need this explanation, he already knew this.  She wasn’t going to prey on innocent people, she couldn’t afford to downgrade her diet too much considering she needed to be in peak health and control fighting in the Scouts, and she couldn’t just stop unless she wanted to die a slow and agonizing death.

Starvation over decades, maybe even centuries…

Regular starvation was bad enough, he knew that from personal experience.  He couldn’t imagine going out like that--he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.  Especially self-inflicted.

Levi’s gaze wandered to the few people in the street, moving idly from one person to the next, not really paying them any attention beyond basic people watching as he brought himself to his decision.

While he understood her position, that didn’t mean he was entirely comfortable with it.  But was he willing to try and make this work, to keep her on his squad--this time as his decision, not a decision Erwin made in the name of surveillance--and see if things could still work out despite the mess this entire ordeal had turned into that almost ended in his death.

Was it a damaged well, or poisoned water?

Was he going to cut his losses, or try to fix this?

“...Don’t put her on another squad,” he finally told Erwin.  “She’ll still have her skills put to the best use with my Squad.  I’ll figure out how to deal with...everything.”

He was going to try and make this work, despite the current friction between them.

The only question now, was how?

Erwin was the one to tell L/N that she was staying in the Scouts, of course, and by extension he was also the one to tell her she'd remain on Levi's squad, and that it was Levi's job to keep an eye on her and make sure she stayed in line.  As for Levi, it was back to business as usual while Erwin handled speaking with L/N.

And two days later, Levi abruptly decided that everyone was going to do a deep clean of HQ, assigning everyone at least one room, with L/N having two considering how fast and how well she cleaned, and himself having three so that he had plenty of time to think while he was cleaning.

Now that his concerns about betrayal and deceit had been assuaged, he could finally allow the softer sides of her he’d glimpsed to settle in his mind, too.  Between the darker side he now had a better picture of and the person he’d been seeing since she joined the Scouts, he could finally form a more complete picture of the new person on his squad and start to decide what he thought of her.

Any lingering concepts in his mind that she wasn’t up to the job went out the window--except for a general concern about her being around too much blood.  She hadn’t been in the middle of a truly hairy expedition with people dying left and right.  She’d been struggling when he was bleeding out in front of her--what would it be like when there were people dying bloody all around her?

Then again, she’d already pointed out that his blood was particularly alluring.

That was still an odd thing to think about--he was probably going to do his best not to think about it.

He wasn’t too worried about her being able to hand the more...psychological stresses of being a Scout.  If she could handle being directly responsible for death, and being around it so much after living in and hunting in the Underground, she might fare better than most in the environment.

If it hadn't been the sharper, harder edge he'd seen to her personality in the dungeon, the knowledge of the things she'd already seen and been through, he'd be worried she had too soft of a temperament and personality for the Scouts.  It had been what he'd seen from her before the whole vampire thing came out.

She was the woman who went out of her way to comfort the horses and make sure they knew they could trust her.  Who sat in the field with the horses and simply soaked in the sun's rays while drawing whatever she could see--namely horses, at least once the man who had been watching her, yet she never said a word.  She was the woman with a tea garden in a hidden corner of the Scout’s headquarters so that she could save more of her salary...and use it to shelter and provide for the parents who didn't know, and would probably never know, they're daughter was still alive.   The woman who snuck treats out to the horses from her own plate, who'd gotten at least half of Levi’s squad drinking their tea with a bit of white sage for health purposes--only Levi aware of just how much it was actually doing for them.  The one who had asked for a different kind of lesson or tutoring from each squad member so they wouldn’t feel like she was some air-headed newbie that thought she was better than everyone because she was put on a fast track to Levi’s squad fresh out of the cadets, so that they could feel like they were still teaching her something, that she was learning from them.  She was the kind of person who made little gestures like covering him with her cloak when she saw him asleep at the table without a second thought, or timing a fresh cup of black tea almost perfectly to help keep him alert when despite his insomnia he would start to feel tired in the middle of the day, who'd risked the loss of a leg to make sure Eld wouldn't get hurt even after Levi killed the Titan, and who had saved his life even though, at the time, doing so was a great risk to her, because he could put a swift end to the life she'd been trying to build above ground.

She was a good person at heart.  Complicated as hell, still dangerous and a risk, and she had her skeletons, her demons and dark secrets, her flaws...but still, a good person at heart.

He’d been watching her closely long enough to pick up on all of that and then some, even if he’d tucked most of it away for later evaluation considering at the time he was worried it might be a front for some insidious ulterior motive.

And he had to do something to try and mend the relationship they had.  They couldn't function as part of a squad with all this tension and friction, let alone as captain and subordinate, definitely not as a team.  There had to be some level of trust if they were going to be working together in the future, and right now, there was pretty much none, mostly because of him.  And he had to be the one to make a first step towards repairing the damage that he had inflicted so that they could start building at least the groundwork of a working trust in one another.  They would need it when they went out in the field, because all that raw ability meant nothing if they couldn’t function with each other.

Levi scrubbed harder at the stone floor, seeing his fingertips turn pale with the rest of his hands red from the hot soapy water and the pressure he was putting on the brush.

"Captain?"

Levi sighed, leaning back and putting the brush back into the water, turning and lowering the cloth over his face to look over at Petra standing in the doorway with a broom in hand.

"Oluo says he's done with his room, he's just waiting for your inspection," she informed him, though the look on her face was enough to tell him he'd be telling Oluo to do it all over again as soon as he saw it.

"I'll do it when I'm finished," Levi answered, raising the cloth over his face and pulling out the brush to start scrubbing again.  "Tell him to make sure he's finished while he waits."

"Yes, Captain," Petra said with a small nod, turning to leave.

"Has L/N finished with her two rooms?" Levi asked before she could leave entirely, focused on a new spot of stone as he spoke instead of looking up at her.

"Yes, sir.  She actually went outside, out front, to do some extra cleaning while she waited for you to be ready to inspect the rooms."

She was also really good at cleaning.  She had to be, right?  She'd lived below ground longer than he had, and her senses were extra sensitive.  One bad smell must be torture for her, the dust probably setting off her sensitive nose with the slightest buildup, her sight probably making it easier to pick out grime, and her speed making her a faster cleaner than anyone here--when she didn't have to slow down because she was being watched by someone who didn't know what she was.  No wonder she was so damn good at cleaning, why he hadn't found any flaws with it to date.

It almost felt like cheating to him, for some reason.

He pressed unnecessarily hard down on the brush again, feeling the bristles bend and strain slightly in the brush, his fingertips turning pale again.

"Tell her when she's finished with whatever she's doing right now to come up here," Levi told Petra, offering no more explanation as he continued scrubbing at the floor.

“Yes, sir.”

Petra left after that, and Levi focused on the room around him--his third room, mind you, and he was almost done.  His hands were red, a little raw, too, but it wasn’t anything serious.  He just kept getting lost in his thoughts while he was cleaning, and instead of calming down like he normally did when he cleaned, he’d tense up at those moments where he got lost in his thoughts.  He was going over his attempt at a peace offering over and over again, well aware that he wasn’t the best...people person, that communication on a social or emotional level was not his strong suit.  But he was hoping the intention behind the gesture would be clear.  She wasn’t an idiot--she was smart.  There was a decent chance she’d be able to see what he was trying to do.

Hopefully.

Levi was just starting to finish up, finishing with a bit of polish on the metal in the room when L/N finally made her appearance, standing in the doorway with similar cleaning additions to her uniform as him, though she had an apron on that was currently tucked up and into her straps to keep any dirt from falling onto the floor while she walked.

She must have been doing some garden and yard work, then.  Pulling weeds or something like that out front.  At least she wasn’t tracking dirt everywhere, from what he could see--and his eyes were scanning her and her surroundings carefully to make sure she wasn’t about to ruin his hard work.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” she asked formerly, keeping her gaze fixed on him instead of letting it wander around the room at anything other than him.

That was a start, at least.  He’d be worried this entire rebuilding the bridge thing wouldn’t work out well if she couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

But the tension was still there, thick and uncomfortable, enough to put even him on edge.  There was a distance in her posture, a different kind of guarded than when he’d been snooping around and watching her every move.  Like she was hyper-aware of what he was going to think of her moving forward.

He was still coming to a decision about that one, honestly.

“You’re going to start training with me,” Levi said with no lead up, causing her eyebrows to raise in surprise, opening her mouth like she was about to ask questions before she quickly closed it again, since he continued to talk as if her reaction didn’t phase him in the slightest or give him any kind of pause.  “You’ve got some things to work on before the next expedition.  Two lessons a day, sparring and ODM gear.  Make sure you make the time for it.”

“Ah, Captain...I’m not sure if I...should…” she said hesitantly, caught between obeying what was close to a command from her Captain and a reluctance to take him up on the lessons because...what, was the tension that bad for her that she didn’t think she could train with him?  Did she not want to be anywhere near him any more than she already was?  Did she think she would make him uncomfortable?  Did she not like the thought of being alone with him?

That was a viable concern, actually.

Or maybe she just thought there wasn’t anything he could teach her.

On the contrary--she’d said herself that she was having trouble with the ODM gear.  She’d said one of her risks was that she reacted too fast for the gear to keep up with her, sometimes.  That was a problem, especially in a situation where one needed to rely on instincts--how could you rely on instincts while also trying to muffle them to lower to the level of the gear, or nearby people?

She needed help finding the middle ground, or at least training herself to instinctually pace herself so she didn’t outpace the gear in an emergency.  Like she’d pointed out herself, that kind of mistake could be the difference between life and death, even for her.

As for the sparring...well, the only people here that came close to matching their skills was each other.  Who else were they going to spar besides each other?  Besides, it would be refreshing to have someone he could actually go all out on that would be a challenge for him.  He was sure the same applied for her, now that she didn’t have to hold back to keep her secret hidden.

If that had been the reason she’d thrown the fight the first time they’d sparred.

Plus, all that raw strength and speed meant nothing if she didn’t know how to use it.  He could still teach her things, show her some techniques she could use in a fight, that kind of thing.

Is offer to teach her was his way of offering an olive branch to her...and he didn’t take too kindly to her starting to turn down the offer.

Levi narrowed his eyes slightly at her as she continued to cast about for a solid excuse to turn him down.  Most people here would kill for one on one lessons from him--a fact he was well aware of.  Yet here she was, proving just how out of the ordinary she was as she seemed to be beyond just the vampire thing, trying to weasel out of it.  “What?  Don’t think you have anything to learn because you’re so naturally gifted?” he asked in a jab much softer than his accusations during their interrogation.

“No, it’s just…” she started to say with a frustrated sigh, looking over her shoulder like she was looking at someone, even though no one was there.  “Eld’s already giving me ODM gear lessons…”

Was that really it?  He doubted it.  Yes, Eld was teaching her a few things, Levi was aware, but it wasn’t the same as what Levi was offering to teach her.  And it wasn’t a reason to turn him down in the first place.  Just another excuse.  Unless she was really worried about what the others would think if she got not only one daily private lesson with Levi, but two.  As much as Levi was usually of the opinion “To hell what other people think,” this one he could see where she was coming from if it was the case.  She’d just gotten the others to warm up to her despite their grumbling and cold shoulders after the extremely green rookie got sped through all the tape and obstacles right into Levi’s Squad while they put in hard work and were hand picked by Levi after some time in the Scouts after displaying their own strengths and skills over a period of time.  It must have looked like favoritism--and Levi giving her double private lessons wasn’t going to help anything.

It didn’t change the fact that she still needed them or could benefit from them.  And that it was a way for them to start making amends...in a roundabout way.

“ODM techniques.  Special maneuvers:  team and solo, correct?” Levi asked, mostly rhetorically, though she still nodded in confirmation.  Levi moved over to the table he was keeping his cleaning supplies on, starting to pack up his things so he could leave to start doing inspections of everyone’s designated rooms.  “I’m not going to be teaching you what Eld is.  You said you were having problems with reacting too fast for the gear, right?”

Levi spoke pointedly, giving her a sidelong glance so he could gauge her reaction and she could see he was serious about this--and that he didn’t have any ulterior motives.  She didn’t protest again.  She still looked a little uncomfortable, possibly because of the bump this could cause with the others once they found out, maybe because it meant the two of them were going to be spending more time with one another and they were going to have to get over this tension between them really quickly if they didn’t want to end up at each other’s throats trying to kill each other, but she didn’t protest anymore.

“Four a.m. in the woods for hand to hand.  Two hours before dinner on the training grounds for the ODM gear.  Don’t be late,” Levi told her, taking his supplies and leaving her behind in the room as his way of dismissing her.

Now to go yell at Oluo for not getting his cleaning job done properly, most likely.

Next Chapter---->

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